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Flynn now alternated between standing and hanging by his arms. His legs were tired but hanging was uncomfortable.
Cassandra replaced Sean Smith's clipboard and set the chair behind the next man at the opposite wall. There were five men left to be punished facing this wall. She sat and that man was whispering, "...d be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven give us this day our daily b..."
She glanced around at him then shook her head a little and took his clipboard.
"Whatever you do to me, I'm gonna fucking enjoy it!" His voice was a guttural bass.
She looked over and he was craning his neck to glare at her. She shrugged and eyed him a moment. "Well...maybe you like pain, maybe not."
He shut his eyes with anger as he barked, "You can make this as hellishly horrific as you fucking can!! Crush my balls flat!! I don't give a shit!! Even when they pop!! I'm still gonna fucking love it!! I'm gonna fucking love every fucking second of this! And you know what that means?!"
"What's it mean, honeybunny?" she asked with a blink.
"It means you're not punishing me!!! You may refuse to consider the truth, but the truth is you're rewarding me for everything I did!! You know what THAT means!?"
She gazed blankly at his angry eyes.
"It means the worse you do me!?!? The more deliciously I'm gonna fucking enjoy every second of it!!! So do your absolute fucking worst!!!"
She arched an eyebrow at him. She didn't look any more likely to worsen his punishment. Her expression told him what she herself told him just then, "Are you fucking stupid?"
He swallowed but did not blink or look away. He glared bravely at her.
She rolled her eyes. "As I told Mr. Bradley, it's quite a common fetish, so I've heard it all before. I'll take your word for it, Mr....uh...Partsch. That being said, the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. As Jesus would say. Every body has its limits and we're about to find yours. And once we've done that, you won't enjoy it anymore." He was about to speak but she suddenly stooped down toward him and he licked his lips and gulped again. "I wonder though...are you sorry for what you did?"
He growled, "No!"
She waited with a blank face but he did not flinch or speak. "No remorse at all? For any of your crimes? I've read this already! I know what you did! You don't feel bad about any of it?"
He snarled, "I'd do it all again right now!!"
She laughed once through her nose, then frowned and shook her head. "Then why pray to Jesus? Why now at the bitter end?" He swallowed and his lips quivered, but he controlled them quite well and glared defiantly. "Do you think he's going to say, 'Well, shit. He just prayed my prayer. Now I have to make the pain not happen ever. I'm hoist by my own petard'?" She waited but his expression did not change. He was breathing faster now. "I mean, why not quote Shakespeare? Hamlet? 'My words fly up, my thoughts remain below? Words without thoughts never to Heaven go?' At least that's more apropos! Ha! That rhymed!" There was a slight dimple at the corner of his mouth. He was trying not to show fear. She suddenly lurched forward and snatched his hair, jerked his face up to hers and said, "I'm going to make you beg me to cut them off!! I swear to God!!!" His lips shivered with his breathing. His eyes did not falter. He still glared at her. He was fighting the good fight. But he was losing. "I've dealt with a thousand guys like you!! You like to beat on women?! Yeah!?" She grinned unadulterated ferocity. His eyes drew tighter at their corners. Fear was beginning to overwhelm his bravery. "Well, now a woman's gonna make you her bitch, motherfucker!!" Her eyes widened and she snarled, "Welcome to Hell!! The Great Equalizer!!"
She stood from him and walked to the center of the room and read loudly, "Jarek Partsch!! Who is about to be taught just how much farther pain can go than he thinks he can!! 24 years old! Five feet ten inches! Hair brown! Eyes brown! Crimes! Sedition! One! Assault and battery! Twenty-six!" He heard the page flip. "Detailed! Sedition! Infantry! Assault and battery! Twelve different women complained of abusive relationships with suspect, who would slap, punch, and kick them in drunken rages! Nine women had to be taken to hospitals!" He heard the clipboard clatter. "Jarek Partsch!! It makes you feel good to beat on women, doesn't it?!" He could hear that she was turning around as she spoke, telling the whole room. "My!" she purred in sonorous bloodlust. "How the tables have turned!"
"Let me out of this fucking cage and fight me like a man!!!" he shouted. Once his echoes rang away there was dead silence in the room. The men at that wall could hear each other's breaths faltering.
Then they heard a fast whiff, a loud meaty smack, and Jarek Partsch grunted out a long growl. His thighs quivered and he raised his head, panting fast, lowered it and belched. "As much as I'd love to show you how a Master Instructor in Krav Maga fights, Jarek, your helplessness makes this all just...so much more fun!" She snapped her right foot up against his nuts and smashed them flat across it from thigh to thigh. The smack was followed by a barking yelp and his head flopped up just like the rear of his cage, then the cage crashed, and he belched again. "Your juicy nuts are hanging nice and low so I could do this all day and they're not gonna pop, Jarek!"
"I'm fucking loving it, bitch!" he croaked in a clotted snarl.
"Yeah, I think maybe you are!" He felt her stride over his back and sit on his cage. She pulled his balls up and squeezed them hard, one in each hand, fingernails digging in deep and his growl returned louder and higher, now filled with despair. "But believe me, honey, you won't be for much longer, so enjoy this all you can!" She sang the last few words brightly, almost in a squeal, and jiggled her nails around, digging in deeper. Jarek Partsch finally screamed, not much of one, but his growl rose until he could no longer keep it in his chest voice and his falsetto rose into a timbre mostly of anger as he defied her as long as he could. She yanked up hard and held them, stretching, squeezing and rolling her nails around in his testicular walls. Jarek Partsch's scream burst into a ragged screeching howl straight at the ceiling, eyes shut tight, tears pearling down his cheeks, and then she opened her grips just enough to let his nuts squirt out and flop down. His howl shot up into a squealing shriek, as piercing as a banshee's.
She strode off his cage and his shriek died down quickly into light, retching whimpers. She heard his spit spattering the floor, spattering again, again. He moaned in louder gasps then as the searing misery twisted and squeezed around in his belly. He belched and the belch turned into a wave, hauling up from his legs to his jaw, but he didn't puke, just growled a loud dry-heave into the drain. Nothing but saliva.
"See?! How easy was that, Jarek!? You said you love the pain, but we've already reached your threshold! Nothing to it! From here on, you won't love anything I do to you! For example!" She leaned over his right side and waited but he didn't look back, just lolled his head, moaning and shivering as his balls spewed agony up into his guts. He felt her hand pat his right side. "Right here? This is your liver!" And she reared back her right fist toward the next man's cage and that man watched with wide eyes as she swung her fist as hard as she could, smacked it into Jarek Partsch's side and Partsch snarled up a long yelp, higher, higher, face tilting to the ceiling, and then his yelp slipped into falsetto, shut off and Jarek Partsch flexed like a board, vomited a full stomach of food into the drain, and shit sprayed six feet behind him in a long bubbly gurgle across the floor.
His gasps came in shuddering heaves as the pain ravaged all over him. He coughed and spat slimy drool. "I can throw a pretty mean punch, huh, baby? Bet you never thought a shot to the liver could hurt so much!" He only gasped his pants in quick whimpers. Then he felt warm water on his ass and thighs. When she was done, she dropped the hose and knelt with a sigh at his left, pulled his head up by his hair and mocked him. "Mm-hmm!" He gasped and retched a little, spat more vomit, and beheld her with tired terror in his eyes. "Ooh! Ooh! They ache so much! Don't they?"
He quivered his lips together and mumbled, "P-p-pleassse..."
She grinned. "Please? Please! Please what? More? You want more?" He shook his head a little with a whine. "You said you love this! You want more?" She let his head down and he retched at the floor. "You got it, honeybunny!" She stood and walked behind him. "A LOT more!" She walked past Flynn and returned with a wood stick about a yard long and perhaps a fourth of an inch thick. She bent it back and forth as she rounded Jarek Partsch's cage and held it before his eyes. He looked from it to her. "This is a rattan cane. Nice and flexible. It's used on the ass and gives a much more painful spanking than a paddle. The legal limit in Malaysia is twenty-four strikes, whereupon most people pass out." She grinned her beautiful teeth at him and widened her eyes. "There's no legal limit in the States! And I think you know your ass is not what I'm going to focus on!" She winked and disappeared.
His writhing intensified as much as it could in his sling and his groaning rose in pitch and volume. "Please!" he said and retched a belch. "Please!! Just - please just cut them off!! Please don't do this!!" He felt his balls lift and gasped in through his teeth as the agony shot up fresh. He heard something tear and then felt tape wrap around his balls. They were held in the bottom of his sack and then he felt her press tape firmly across his ass, around his thighs and then her fingertips gently pat his balls. They were taped up against his ass, directly over his anus.
She tossed the tape, stood and he watched her move the chair out of the way. "Please! Please!" It was a squeal now, weak and thin. She turned to him, smiled, set her feet and raised the cane high in her right hand, never looking from his eyes. He started shaking with hard sobs. "Pleheeheeeassse!! Plleeheeheeasse!!"
She widened and narrowed her eyes and he opened his mouth and eyes wider then in mortal horror. Flynn whispered, "Holy shit!" The next man to be punished was watching with eyes like dinner plates.
She purred, "I'll bet you wish you hadn't beaten up those women now!" and swiped the cane in a foreswing as hard as she could across the center of his nuts. He didn't scream. He gasped and his breath shuddered up with the explosion of agony until he set his voice to it, a feathery warbling wail, rising with his head until he stared wide at the ceiling and his wail rose and fell, interrupted by quick pants. WHACK! It danced up and down rapidly like an opera soprano singing arpeggios. WHACK! His balls deformed around the cane and he shrieked up and down, high and low. His voice was the music of his pain as it radiated from his balls into his belly, gnawing and knotting up his bowels. WHACK! His shriek shivered up and down two full octaves now. He sounded exactly like a peacock's call, and his body wasn't shaking from the pain. It was vibrating. Jarek Partsch had not known he could feel this much pain all at once. It was ecstatically intolerable. The hairs of his arms and legs stood on end. The awful nausea raged throughout him but his anguish had pushed him beyond throwing up. The drugs forced him to keep breathing but his pants were fluttering too irregularly to allow him time to dry-heave. He farted then but there was nothing in his bowels.
WHACK! His warbling flutters of wailing shot up into a full chest-voiced soprano screech of rapid heaving breaths. It sounded like the maniacal shriek-laughter of an evil clown. "THAT'S FIVE, JAREK!! TWENTY-ONE TO GO!!" WHACK! His balls ballooned dark purple around the cane and Jarek Partsch's shrieking rise and fall of undulating howls rang around the dungeon like a siren. "I'LL DO THE LAST TWENTY AS FAST AS I CAN SWING ACCURATELY!!!" she bellowed over him.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Now his shriek stopped warbling and bloomed into a mighty cackling roar of screams, each one falling neatly in between the fleshy smacks of the cane. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Jarek Partsch's cock plumped in between the last two WHACKS from limp to rock-hard and ejaculated in time with his barking falsetto screams, in between the strikes. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Six thick ropes of cum sprayed all over the underside of his sling and spurted all the way to the wall. He was vibrating so strongly his shackles were jingling as loudly as the impacts of the cane. Jarek Partsch was a musical instrument of agony, misery, and anguish, three very different sensations of pain, and all three had overwhelmed him in three different ways: his body, his mind, and his will to go on living. He would not die in this dungeon but he wanted to. His ejaculation had not been an orgasm. He had felt no euphoria. It was a reaction ordered by what little of his brain was functioning. 'This amount of pain has confused me,' his brain was screaming. 'It is in no way pleasant but is some terrible kind of ecstasy, so cum. Cumming must be what you're supposed to do now. And then maybe the ecstasy will die down?'
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! She was swinging the cane so hard she was pivoting on her feet like a baseball player and even amid this movement, Flynn could count her heart rate at 120 beats per minute by watching her clit throb. Each swing smashed Partsch's nuts flat in the middle and their tops and bottoms squished around it, a swirl of deep purples and blues, but as long as they could seek slight refuge in his crack and the cushion of his cheeks they simply would not pop.
She administered the last four strikes while backing up a few steps and walking forward for extra momentum. WHACK!!! Partsch unleashed the loudest, purest, most piercing squeal of a scream yet heard in the room. John Fulp jolted awake and shouted as he shut his eyes. It was as pristine as a bell but did not diminish as a bell does when struck. It reminded Flynn of Sirius the Dog Star, if its light made noise, and it continued unwavering, the same pitch as the shortest string on a harp and Flynn knew because he had perfect pitch. Jarek Partsch was screaming a B-flat so mightily strident that he sounded like a harp string struck and set on fire by a bolt of lightning. WHACK!!! Partsch had not stopped screaming before the third-to-last strike but it made him snort in a quick gasp and blast the same pitch out again, just as powerfully brilliant as before.
She grinned as she swung. WHACK!!! He blasted it out again, cage thumping soundlessly as the pain quaked and thundered throughout his balls and belly. There were goosebumps all over him. WHACK!!! He blasted it out again, that very same electrified bell tone. His balls had swollen to twice their normal size, almost as large as Flynn's, and looked like blackened oranges. Flynn could see them throbbing. She smiled as she sat on Paul Hurlbut's cage, crossed her arms and held the cane aloft.
Jarek Partsch did not stop screaming that pure, unwavering pluck of a harp string for ninety seconds. Only then did he suck in a heaving breath and it fluttered out in a very weak warble, falling more than rising - his head lolling down with it - frail and feathery again, like laughter for about sixty more seconds, and then he croaked into retching growls as the misery was finally able to hit home. She smiled wider, leaned forward and pulled his head up. His eyes wept at her what his brain was roaring: "This level of of pain has bewildered me."
The man to Partsch's right murmured, "Jesus!"
"Would you like me to cut them off?" she asked Partsch. Tears poured down both cheeks and streamed from his chin. He spat them as his eyes drew tight and he blubbered, "P-p-plee-hee-heeeasse!" He gasped and gulped as he breathed in, "Fffuck - c-c-cut 'em!! Pppleease..." he belched and retched stomach acid, then wept back up to her eyes. "Goddamn! Fuck! Jesus! Please! Cut 'emm off! Please cut 'em off!"
She grinned and said, "No!"
His eyes and mouth opened wide as she stood and disappeared. "Please!" he mewled. "Cut 'em off! Cut 'em off! They hurt too much! Goddammit cut 'em off! Please!"
She walked past Flynn and returned with a large blue mat about three inches thick, flopped it down behind Partsch, retrieved her razor from behind Walter Palmer and knelt behind Partsch. She yanked the tape off. His skin looked brighter where it had been. It had taken his hair with it. He yiped as his balls flopped down. She unwrapped the tape from them and his voice fluttered up again. She tossed the tape, then pulled the blade across the back of his sack and where it passed, his sack seeped bright red. Partsch did not react. He was suffering too much ball and gut pain to notice. She opened the slit, stuck in her fingers and fished out his spermatic cords, bright bluish white. She drew the blade across his right one and he gasped and shook but made no noise. She sliced his left cord, just a tiny nick. He gasped again.
She laid the razor on the chair, then sat on the mat, leaned back and raised her beautiful feet flat to his asscheeks. "That was to make sure I still have something to crush!" She grabbed his swollen nuts in both hands and he warbled up a thin howl. "And this is so you remember, Jarek Partsch, that a woman once kicked your ass!" She yanked back on his balls and he shrieked but the shriek cut short into guttural gargles of heaving retches.
Harder and harder she pulled back until her ass left the mat and Flynn muttered, "Fuck me!" Jarek Partsch's scrotum and balls were now the only things supporting her full weight and the slit she had cut stretched wider, wider, and Flynn watched until he heard the flesh tearing, then he gagged, heaved a little and shut his eyes. He moaned loudly so he wouldn't have to listen. She glanced at him, grinned, then back to Partsch's nuts. He was groaning his dry-heaves, lolling his head in every direction. The pain had exhausted his strength to scream, but his groans rose smoothly to a keening pule as she growled, dead lifting backward, farther, flesh tearing louder, longer, farther back, and then she squeezed both his nuts as hard as she could and they burst in muffled *thrups*. His voice did not change. Just a weak mewling bleat interrupted by retches.
Then his scrotum tore apart exposing his cords in a spiraling, ragged gash all the way around, the cords snapped apart where she had nicked them, and she fell back on the mat, rolled forward and sat watching his squirming ass and thighs jingling his chains. She sighed into bright, hefty chuckles, stood and walked around, sat on Hurlbut's cage and lightly kicked Partsch's face. He belched and puked in heaving retch after retch. She kicked him again and he spat gurgling slime as he lolled his head up. She showed him his tattered scrotum, balls pinched inside like a pouch, them dumped them into her palm, tossed his sack into his face and dropped both his mangled nuts into her mouth. Their contents had extruded and were bright orange like a pumpkin. She set them between her molars and chomped down with her lips apart, cords trailing out of her mouth, squelching his nuts flat. Blood flowed over her lip, and then she closed her lips, chewed his balls up, ground her teeth together and he heard the testicle walls popping and crackling. He swallowed and looked at her with a quivering chin the way a pet looks at its master when yelled at. The pain had already noticeably subsided, no longer so severe that he had to heave over and retch stomach acid.
She swallowed and slurped his cords in like noodles, swallowed again and smiled down at him with wild, wide eyes. She smacked her lips, then said, "They're very tender after you've caned them!" He cringed his eyes clenched and tears squirted down his cheeks as he wept into the drain. "Give it about twenty minutes, honeybunny!" Then she stood and disappeared. He sniffled and whimpered weakly like an old woman, then gasped in and blew out a piercing howl as she crunched his right cord. Then again. Crunch. He howled and finally, for the first time, Jarek Partsch began sobbing in great heaves of sorrow. Crunch. His sobbing howled and intensified. Crunch. His sobbing quieted to hard chucks interspersed by snorts. Crunch. He heaved hard over but didn't puke. It was a full chest voice of forlorn despondency. Crunch. His sobbing did not change. Clack clack clack clack clack clack. He growled at the pinches, then his sobs silenced into heavy wheezes. She set her tools in her chair, stooped next to his left ear and purred, "I guess Jesus said, 'No,'" then rose and stood behind him a moment, admiring him with a smile.
Then she looked at the man to Jarek Partsch's right. That man immediately burst into tears.