This is the lock of the chastity belt that El Cid Campeador put on his wife Doña Jimena when he left her in the care of the monks of the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña in Burgos, when he went, together with his retinue, into exile by mandate of their king.
“Take the key and guard the chest of my beloved wife, and take care of your dick and that of your monks,” the Cid begged the abbot of the Monastery. “Don’t forget that I also left my two daughters in your hands.”
“They are in good hands,” answered the abbot. “Go with God.”
Pissed off and angry about the nine days the king gave him to leave Castile, leaving his daughters and his wife, the Cid went into exile promising the king that he would roll as many Moorish heads as he found on the way. Like so he did. Among the blackberries, before delivering them to his retinue, he fucked the best ones. The Moors that he apprehended, he cut off their heads.
Meanwhile, in the Monastery, the monks, on days of spiritual exercises, were tempted to visit Doña Jimena in her room, especially while she slept, to see if they could get their cocks through the keyhole and open her chastity belt.
Because of their erect and mushy cocks, they couldn’t get it in, settling for looking through the keyhole, seeing nothing, and saying:
“It looks dark and smells like cheese.”
Doña Jimena, while she slept, dreamed of her beloved and outraged husband, an inveterate mercenary fucker, who still didn’t have her well-seasoned or satisfied, rubbing her tits, begging her to give him more and more.
The Cid’s daughters, Doña Elvira and Doña Sol, who were twins, ignored the monks’ services and prayers like shit, asking the cook monk what there was to eat, what was for dinner.
Upon returning from his exile, the monks say that the meeting with Jimena was a joke. El Cid doubted the safety of the chastity belt because he noticed a lock, some grass, with urine stains on the artistic lock.
The abbot, smiling, who noticed him, said to him:
“My Lord Cid, your wife has been very well guarded. When I opened her chastity belt, she, being freed from restraint, defecated and urinated like a she-donkey.”
“But why don’t you stop smiling?” the Cid asked the Abbot.
He replied:
“Because I remember that, when I opened the lock, I laughed at what I saw.”
Daniel de Culla is a writer, poet, painter and photographer. He’s a member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, Friends of the Blake Society, and others. Daniel is the director of Gallo Tricolor Review and Robespierre Review. He participated in many festivals of poetry and theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover, and Genève.
