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She strode over John Fulp's cage and sat behind Hurlbut. He was breathing deep and slow. "See? Pain's almost completely gone, right?"
He sniffed and nodded.
"Good! Well, I'm gonna have to staple your sack up now. These are some nasty pinches, but it won't last long." Clack clack clack clack clack. Clack. He groaned loudly when she started and whimpered up high by the fourth fiery pinch. Then she was done and the fire quickly dwindled to a hot afterglow. "Alright! You're all done! You're a eunuch!"
"Uh, can I - can I have a footjob, too?"
"You absolutely may not." And she stood. "Oh, fuck! I forgot your ribs! Alright, let's do it fast! You ready?"
He hitched in a long gasp, swallowed, and nodded. She held the side of his cage with both hands, raised her left knee to his left side and set her right foot. "I'm breaking both of them on this side. Your liver's on the other side and I don't want to puncture it. Besides which the pain would make you black out." She lowered her left foot to the floor then fired it up as hard as she could, burying it deep into his side and he barked a roaring yelp, gritted his teeth and panted rapid whimpers. Her toes touched the floor and she fired it up again into exactly the same spot and Paul Hurlbut's seventh rib cracked. He screamed like a little girl and then the scream stopped and he sipped little gasps in and out between his teeth.
"This one ought to get the job done, Paul! Hope you like it!" She pounded her knee into him and his sixth and seventh ribs snapped apart. If he hadn't screamed even higher and louder than before he would have heard a muffled thump. He writhed to his right as best he could, trying to get away from them, blowing snot and spitting his breaths. "Oh, no!" she said and quickly went to Fulp's cage, took the towel and gently set his head on the floor. He did not wake. She returned and wiped Paul Hurlbut's nose and mouth. His eyes were shut tight. "You need to be able to breathe or you'll die." His gagging sips of breath groaned on. "That's how Marie felt, Paul!" She tossed the towel behind her. "And this is to make sure you remember that!" She pressed her left fist against the spot she had kneed and rolled her knuckles around. Paul Hurlbut's head flew up with a howling squelch and he repeated the howl with every rapid breath. It sounded just like a chair scraped over tile, but with frantic despair thrown in, and so loud that every man in the room who was still conscious and sane shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. John Fulp woke and winced his shut. Paul Hurlbut sounded a little like the world's largest turkey gobbling.
She took her fist away and his howls slowly subsided into keening whines. "Enjoy breathing for the next three months!" She patted his ass, found and replaced his clipboard. She happened to see John Fulp had turned his head and was watching. She looked around, retrieved the towel and folded it, then placed it behind his head. "Go to sleep," she whispered with a smile and winked at him. He showed no emotion, just fatigue, as she turned and walked away. He could still feel the glow of his orgasm and in a few minutes he would be asleep again.
She grinned gloriously wide as she stepped up to Flynn and shook her head slowly at his cock. It stood straight up and throbbed against his abs. The tip reached to about an inch below his diaphragm. She looked up and said, "Have you ever sucked it yourself?"
He sighed and blinked a nod. She smirked. "All the way?"
"Yeah." He almost smiled a little.
"Spit or swallow?"
"I uh...I didn't like the taste so I spat."
She smiled as she looked it over, then squeezed her hands around it just below the glans. She couldn't get her middle fingertips to touch her thumbs. "Holy shit!" she laughed. "It's like warm marble!" She let go and squeezed it hard at the hilt. "Jesus!" She looked up at him. "You know, I really didn't think you could do it!" Then she slowly bent over, not leaving his gaze until her mouth was less than an inch from the tip. She looked down, opened her mouth wide and stuffed in the head of his dick, lolling her head around to engulf it, and slathered her tongue around, turning her head to lick firm and fast over his glans and he whimpered and shivered, closed his eyes and turned his head up, mouth wide. Immediate electrified euphoria. He panted fast and deep, but then she sucked away with a slurp and stood. He moaned his eyes open and looked down to her. She widened her eyes and what he saw in them was delighted lechery. "Bet you never sucked it that well!"
He gulped and shook his head, then quivered up a grin. He didn't dare say it, but he actually had. Years of practice.
"You can think of that as a thank-you kiss for being able to get it all the way up, rock fucking hard, all by yourself!" She stroked it once with her right hand, from the middle of the shaft to the tip, squeezed her grip off and he sighed a groan through his nose as she turned around. That ass. His cock throbbed so hard it looked like it was hiccupping.
She took the chair from Hurlbut and set it behind the second man at the left wall. There were two men at this wall yet to be punished. The last was still glaring from Flynn to his dick and back. Flynn looked to see if she was watching. She wasn't. Flynn winked at the man who would be punished last. That man sighed and looked down.
"Sean Smith!" she read. "29 years old! Six feet four inches! Hair light brown! Eyes hazel brown! Crimes! Sedition! One! Bestiality! Two hundred twelve!" Flynn scrunched his nose and frowned at Sean Smith, who looked straight ahead at the wall, breathing deep and quite calmly. She flipped the page and he swallowed and bared his teeth a little. He looked furious. "Detailed! Sedition! Special Operations! Oh, you're a commando, huh?" She didn't look up. "Bestiality! Suspect trespassed onto the property of a nearby rancher, sneaked into his stables and engaged in sexual congress with stallions, mares, and geldings! Owner suspected activity based on strange behavior of several horses! Installed security cameras! After returning from a vacation, owner had recorded two hundred twelve separate acts of sexual intercourse involving anuses, vaginas, and receiving anal and oral penetration from stallions!"
"What the fuck, dude?!" Flynn muttered. She turned with a smirk and he was slowly shaking his head in disgust. Sean Smith attempted to see who had said this, but could not.
"Yeah, really!" another man said from the right wall. He was next if she returned to that wall. "I mean, I think the rest of us deserve at least a little mercy compared to that guy."
"I'll decide!" she called merrily. She leaned over and Sean Smith sighed and met her gaze with a glower. She glared right back, blazing green eyes widening. "Wipe that fucking look off your face right now or I'll make you beg me to kill you!" He gulped and sighed his eyes back down to the floor. "At what point do you tell yourself, 'Hmm. Maybe I have a problem...maybe I should seek counseling.'"
"I never hurt any of those horses!" he said, almost looking at her. He had a strong bass voice like Flynn's. She glanced under him and snorted. "Well, not with a dick like that. I guess you're telling the truth there!"
"Fffff...uck you!" he whispered.
"Well, that there is one thing that's not gonna happen."
"Uh! You're just as fucking bad a person as I am!" Then he glared at her but there were tears in his eyes. "You hear me?!"
"I'm just as bad as you why? I would love to hear this!"
"You're cutting these guys' nuts off just for the fucking fun! That's why!" His voice broke into falsetto but he didn't hesitate. "This isn't - it has nothing to do with the fucking law! You're doing it because you fucking -njo- t!" His throat seized, his chin quivered and he looked down.
"I am fucking enjoying it!" she growled. "But the law is the law!" He wouldn't look up again. "If you hadn't run afoul of it you wouldn't be in here about to go through a SHITLOAD of fucking pain, motherfucker!" He whimpered into heaves of weeping. "If I passed you on the sidewalk, I wouldn't give a fuck about your nuts! If you haven't done anything to deserve castration, then they're your nuts! Enjoy 'em! Fuck whoever all you want! Feminists Against Male Domination would never try to take that freedom away from you!" She paused. All he could do was whine. "You raped horses! Maybe they didn't understand or care! Maybe you didn't hurt them! But that's a legal infraction punishable by prison time! Sedition is the reason I'm about to remove your nuts! But if you were guilty of nothing else, I'd slice them off quickly! I'd cause you the least amount of pain possible! Two hundred and twelve counts of bestiality require that the punishment be more severe!" She bellowed, "MUCH! More severe!" He shuddered his face away crying heavily now. "I love horses! But I can't fathom what's going on in your brain when you think about them!"
He wept, "I love them! Too!"
"No, you just lust after them! You wanna know why people love animals? The basest reason is because the fur feels good against your skin! That's as far as you take it! The majority of people love them because of that but also because a pet is a warm, trusting, loving companion! A member of the family! So all you did was violate a rancher's friends! And most horse lovers love their horses more than they love most people! Two hundred and twelve fucking counts of bestiality, Sean Smith! How fucking furious do you think that rancher is!? And that fury has to be answered according to the law!"
She tossed his clipboard, stood and walked past Flynn. She didn't look quite so angry as she had before, say, at David Andersen. Her expression seemed more one of having a bad day at the office, work beckons. She had a job to do and must be sure she did it properly. Flynn heard a hollow bonk, then the sink run. Then she stopped it and reappeared with a sauce pot maybe 8 inches deep, a small white jar the size of the black one with the lube in it, a small gray plastic box, and latex gloves under her arm. She set it all down on the low bench behind Sean Smith and the next man, opened the gray box and unfolded a portable camp stove. Flynn had made Eagle Scout so he knew one when he saw it. She assembled it then muttered, "Shit," and returned past him, reappeared with a blow torch and flint spark torch igniter, what Flynn called a "squeeze sparker."
She turned the blow torch on, sparked it to flame, and ignited the camp stove, a small gas burner. She turned the torch off and set the pot on the burner, then stretched on the gloves, intertwined her knuckles and opened the white jar. "This is Tizanidine, Sean Smith! Also called Zanaflex! A topical super-strength muscle relaxant! Now this first part is going to feel great and it's your last ride, so enjoy it!" She scooped a huge glop onto her fingers and smeared it all over his scrotum, firmly kneading it into his taint around the base, then massaging downward, tugging, pulling hard, rubbing both hands around his balls. He grunted as she pulled and held down. His balls started lengthening. They had been hanging about an inch loose. Now they hung at least three inches. She scooped another fingerful and applied, stroking his sack up and down between his taint and his balls, then rapidly slid her hands back and forth with his sack in between. His balls were descending on their own now and his cock had swelled as big as it was going to, six inches or a shade under.
She stretched his sack at the very bottom, not his nuts, pulling hard and long, then released him and carefully removed her gloves, folding one over the other, then folding the second over the first, and discarded them behind her. She sighed and scraped her chair back, pulled the bench to her and sat back. His balls lowered and lowered and lowered. She crossed her legs. Sean Smith just breathed silently and did not move. Three minutes later he heard a bubbly whirring noise and craned his head to see but all he saw was a wide bench some five inches high slide to his right. Then he felt his balls raise by his elongated sack and she said, "I love adding irony to punishment. Two hundred twelve counts, Sean? Can you guess where I'm going?"
He swallowed. "Just fucking do it, cunt! I have no idea! I don't fucking care anymore! Goddammit!"
"Well, you should because this is going to take about twelve to thirteen minutes. Okay? And when that's over? You're going to think nothing could ever possibly hurt again! Not after that much pain! You'll beg me to kill you or cut them off, whichever...and...then I'm going to crush them! With my feet against this bench! You're right. I fucking love this shit! My favorite part is feeling a nut squish in my hand or under my foot! Oh, yeah! But then after it's over? I won't have to cut them off! They'll be dead! No blood flow...and yet...your tunica albugineas are still going to let you know ALL about my feet!" She giggled.
"JUST FUCKING DO IT!!!" he roared.
"Wish...granted!" She slid the stove and pot under his crotch, growled, "Two hundred and twelve...Fahrenheit," and dropped his balls into boiling water. He didn't scream in that instant. He groaned loudly through his teeth. And one second later he realized what it was that he was feeling and then he screamed. A yipping scrape of rapid falsetto gasps that sounded like laughter. Five seconds later, his shaking and writhing suddenly increased and his head flew up and his scream rose in pitch to a ragged warble, an irregular rise and fall, and then he howled, "MAKE IT STOP!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!" and the ragged warble resumed.
She stood with a smile, stepped over the bench, and walked between his and the next cage, sat at the head of the next cage, facing away from Flynn, and leaned back with her hands grasping the far side. She reclined and enjoyed the sight of Sean Smith's facial expression contorted into a hideous guffaw of agony. She looked back and bellowed to Flynn over his scream, "ABOUT TEN!! TO TWELVE MINUTES!!!! LISTEN FOR HIS VOICE TO CHANGE!!!!"
Flynn watched Sean Smith's head flop up again, eyes shut tight, lips sucked over his teeth, screeching at the ceiling, shuddering and squirming as the pain scampered all over his body. It was already intolerable, but three minutes into it, his voice rocketed up - and his eyes opened wide with it - to a curdly squeal, very much like a pig, but with tones of despair, terror, horror, and a plea mixed in. Sean Smith did not want his balls to be a part of him anymore. "NOW THE BLOOD IN HIS SCROTUM IS BOILING HIS TESTICLES!!!!!" she roared back to Flynn. Sean Smith's head lolled fast in every direction. His body was vibrating from pain. He was no longer in any way squirming or writhing to get free. The agony had taken over all his senses. Sean Smith's existence had become pain.
Six minutes into it Flynn stood shaking his head in horrified disbelief as Sean Smith still had not blacked out and was still somehow breathing well enough to scream at the absolute height of his lungs, their full volume, his voice long since destroyed and torn into a serrated rasp. It had taken on the texture of a ball-razored mountainside. The boiling continued and he wept with wide, red eyes at the ceiling, mouth as wide as it could stretch. She turned to Flynn with a bright grin and shouted, "WON TON SOUP!!!!!" then chuckled as she turned back. Flynn laughed once through his nose.
Ten minutes into it, Sean Smith's scream croaked suddenly down into a powerfully rattling, exhaled vibration of his epiglottis, and then he puked a full stomach's worth of prison lunch into his drain - retched, heaved - the whir of the boil continued - snarled stomach acid in a slathery line from his lips, and then his scream whined back up to the same pitch and warbled now with a plaintive air in it. *Have I not suffered enough?* it seemed to say now. Cassandra suddenly laid her head back between her shoulders, shivering, bucking, and unleashed a spurt of cum four inches wide - Flynn could judge its width based on the distance - in a high arc all the way to the wall opposite him. It was a solid thirty-five feet and glossed the wall in a rough circular spot.
Flynn grinned openly as her ecstasy undulated her, legs kicking a little, waving up and down, rocking her whole body, toes curled as her feet twitched. Then it began to subside. Another massive spurt of cum across the room - this one landed across Steve Alexander's back - and her body slowly relaxed, legs lowering in hefts of her pulse. Flynn saw no more cum. Her feet rocked to the floor, found it, and she sat up.
It had now been twelve minutes and Sean Smith's screeching scream lowered to a begging falsetto, almost a contralto, warbling mightily with each pulse, mightily, mightily, and his pulse was telling Cassandra what she needed to know: this was the end. His pulse was saying, "CUT them away!!! CUT them away!!!" She staggered up, locked her knees and strode over the bench. Cum streamed glossy down her left thigh to her calf and she walked behind him, slid the bench back toward Flynn and held his nuts aloft out of the pot, sat with a huff, and turned a handle on the stove. The burner died and the water slowly calmed to steam. Sean Smith's warbling whine slowly descended over the course of a full minute. Sixty seconds is a long time to be in intolerable agony. Sean Smith had just suffered it for about twelve minutes.
Cassandra let his nuts down and his sack, to an inch above them, was the very same red as a boiled lobster. Sean Smith finally stopped screaming. Now he whined like a dog, as thin as a thread. Pure submission. She turned off the stove, took it from the bench and set it all on the floor to her left. His whine panted down to a pathetic mewl.
She stood and just as she did, Sean Smith's bowels finally released in a flood of watery shit over the floor. She held up her right foot, the one she was stepping with, and then backed away. His abdomen shuddered, hiccupped, and then lay still. She hosed him off quickly, rinsed the floor behind him and tossed the hose. "Here comes the best part, Sean!" she sang and pulled his nuts up, laid them on the bench, then hopped up behind him. She picked up her right foot and he whimpered, "Cut 'em off please! Please! Fucking cut 'em off!"
She wheezed a hard laugh and set her toes over his right testicle. He yiped quietly. She set her left toes over his left testicle. Another yipe and now he sobbed silently. "Your balls are hard-boiled now. Just like eggs. They don't produce sperm anymore and there's no blood flow to them. But unfortunately, one aspect of them still works perfectly, Sean! Your tunica albugineas, the testicle walls? They're extremely tough! Resilient! Their only job is to transmit pain signals to your brain! And they're about to do so!" She snarled, "A LOT!"
She slowly rocked her weight onto her toes. His whine returned, frail and quiet but steadily, terribly rising in volume first, then, ten seconds later, pitch as well. She bounced up and down, calves flexing and his whine burst into a full-voiced scream of horrified panic. It was the highest pitch Flynn had yet heard in this room and there was no dismay in it. Sean Smith no longer hoped to preserve his manhood. He wanted his balls to be taken from him. His scream halted then while she bounced with a grin and he dry-heaved a loud retch of nothing. She chuckled, then gasped and squealed as her toes descended to the bench with sputtery *thrumps*.
Sean Smith bawled out a weak screech, heaving with retches as the awful anguish ground and churned away in his guts. She opened her mouth wide in a grin of intense delight, leaned forward a bit and his scrotum ripped open in squirts of reddish orange meat between her toes. She laughed brightly in giddy, snorting mania and twisted her toes around as his screech weakened, thinned, and finally silenced into fast, shallow gasps. She breathed deep, shook her fluffy brown hair behind her, face to the ceiling, then licked her lips and stepped down. She picked up the hose and rinsed her feet, then set it down and pulled the bench away from him. His tattered sack flopped under him, swinging about seven inches from the floor. It was not bleeding.
She walked between the cages and sat on that of the next man, leaned forward and mocked him, "Aw! Aw! Aw! They ache so bad, don't they!? Ooohh! I bet you want me to cut them off, hmm? Well, as much as I'd love to crush your cords, there's no need to, Sean! So I'm just going to leave your poor splattered balls attached! Oh, no!! Ooey gooey agony! Aw!" She stood and walked out behind him. "But don't worry, babe! The pain will stop in about an hour. Plenty of time for you think about those horses."
Sean Smith would not suffer nearly as much as the man next to him.