Those Who Resisted - Part 12: Phillip Martin

She replaced Joseph Gaines's clipboard, stood and set the chair behind the next man, sat and took his. He started whimpering in and out through his nose as he watched her. His eyes welled up. "Phillip Martin! 34 years old! Five feet eleven inches! Hair brown! Eyes hazel brown! Crimes! Sedition! One! Animal Cruelty! Numerous!" She slowly turned and looked him in the eyes and his tears spilled over down his cheeks from narrow eyes. He mumbled, "-m - sssorry!" It was barely a whisper. Her countenance was one of angry disgust.

Then she lowered her face without leaving his gaze and glared at him almost through her eyebrows. He gasped in a whimper and heaved it out in loud, quaking sobs and his head fell limp under him. Tears and drool streamed into the drain. She flipped the page and shouted over him, "Detailed! Sedition! Sniper! Animal Cruelty! Suspect was a professional fur trapper for approximately ten years before joining the Resistance! Equipment used! Noose snares! Spring leg traps! Species! Including, but not limited to! Beaver! Fox! Ferret! Mink! Skunk! Bear! Deer! Cat! Dog!" She replaced his clipboard while he sobbed his terror, then knelt at his head, waited a moment, and when his crying didn't subside, snatched his head up by his hair and shoved his jaw shut with her left hand.

He moaned through his nose and his eyes widened as he beheld the fury in hers. She growled, "I think you know exactly what I'm about to do to you! But if you don't, let me just say that a spring leg trap is despicably inhumane, Phillip Martin! The animal's leg is broken but it can't get away for hours or days at a time before you return to put it out of its misery! They go mad from the pain!! Some animals gnaw their legs off to get away!!" She rumbled in a clotted snarl, "And you're going to wish you could gnaw your balls off!!" She let him go and disappeared as his sobbing rose fresh and louder, frantic and desperate.

She padded past Flynn, he heard the fridge open and shut, and she returned with an apple in her left hand and a large rat trap in her right, like a mouse trap but much more powerful. She knelt at Phillip Martin's head, set the trap and carefully laid it on the floor, then held the apple before his eyes with a smile. He stopped crying long enough to look from it to the trap and back up to her. She dropped the apple onto the trap and the bar snapped with a muffled crunch through the center of the apple. Phillip Martin gasped as his eyes flew wide and white. Then he grimaced in mortified terror up at her eyes.

Her eyes widened and she disappeared behind him with the trap. She left the apple halves beneath him and he roared, "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" She sat and pulled the trap's bar back where Martin could watch, and he did, roared, "PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!" with wide, red eyes, and she cocked her head at him, widened and narrowed her eyes with a grin, then reached behind him, and until his punishment began, he roared, "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" in a mighty baritone voice. Phillip Martin had the second largest balls in the room and he felt her grasp his left one, hold it by its cord just above his epididymis, push the right away, and settle the left on the edge of the trap.

Then she began his punishment by releasing the bar from beneath her thumb. Flynn couldn't hear what it sounded like smashing into Martin's testicle, but it shut off his roar in an instant and Martin's head flopped up. Flynn's ears were ringing. The bar had sunken in to about half of his testicle's girth and Martin coughed out a desperate, mid-voiced moan, shaking and kicking at his chains. She set her thumbs on either end of the bar and rocked it back and forth in the crevice it had dug in his ball. Phillip Martin's moan shuddered into rapid, baritone whimpers both in and out. The pain was rocketing and flurrying around in his guts and playing his breaths out of him. She pressed the bar down some more and his baritone whimpers became falsetto mezzo-soprano whimpers, faster in and out as he tried to catch his breath long enough to swallow and belch so he could throw up. The nausea thrashed throughout him in an unbridled seethe.

Then she slowly began rocking the bar lower and lower like a pendulum blade in a horror story. Now Flynn could hear the disgusting sound of Phillip Martin's ball slowly rending apart, a tearing, squicking noise, almost like crunching an insect, but with a more protracted ripping quality, like rubbery cloth. Flynn shied away, clenching his teeth and eyes as Phillip Martin's mezzo-soprano whimpers fluttered up to coloratura soprano and he lolled his head, screaming up the wall, across the ceiling in inhalations as much as exhalations, and then she clenched the bar all the way down and his left testicle split apart in the center, top from bottom.

Phillip Martin's head lowered, and his moan with it into a bestial growl, his body flexed like a board, and he vomited in a bellowing snarl into the drain, a full stomach of food, then he groaned and farted. Cassandra quickly slid the chair back out of the way and he shit in a low arc, pure, watery diarrhea streaming into the drain, dry-heaving six times fast and powerfully before it trickled to an end. His splattering retching continued as he felt warm water up and down his ass crack, his thighs.

She tossed the hose, replaced the chair and sat. "Do you think you've suffered enough to account for those animals, Phillip?" She opened the bar out of his testicle, bent it back and held it with her thumb. Phillip Martin craned his neck, eyes blearily half-open and tried to speak, but only spit slime and nodded into another hard flex of his body, and he grimaced as the misery raged in him. He puked everything he could puke.

She smirked and he felt her hold his left testicle by the cord again, whined weakly and shook his head at the floor, then gasped and stopped breathing as the bar snapped into the center of his testicle, but this time it struck lengthwise, crossing the first rupture. It deformed his nut to just under halfway and his body vibrated like a jackhammer as the pain soared up from his nut into his belly and he shit thin gruel. She took her hands away and it dribbled down his sack. She rinsed him and sat back with a grin while he trembled in ecstatic agony. He found his breath and moaned in low hitches of nausea, hiccups of retching, spitting stomach acid. His body was bouncing up and down, rocking side to side from the pitiless power of the pain.

Then he felt the bar seesawing in the crevice and his pain found his voice for him, a maniacal flickering wail, just like a butterfly's wings, up high or down low but one never knows where it's going next. The bar sank deeper and his voice shot higher, weaker, now a thin fluttery whine. He pissed into the drain but was no longer dry-heaving. The anguish had progressed into a realm he had not known was possible, and he believed his higher brain functions were dying away. He wanted to keep them, but just then she destroyed that thought by squeezing the bar down all the way through a crackling squick. Flynn was sure now that it sounded like slowly stepping on an insect.

Phillip Martin's head flopped back up but now he could not voice his breaths, only pant fast and shallow, his cage thumping the floor from his bucking kicks, chains jingling. She released his testicle from the trap and leaned to her left. "That's what it feels like for an animal's ankle to be caught in a trap, Phillip! Only they can't get away as quickly as you!" Phillip Martin's head flopped under him but his quaking shivers danced on. "They have to take the pain for hours or days or more! You don't! That is my mercy for you! Now your right nut's going to join the show! Hold on tight!"

His breathing was ragged moans as she held his right nut by the cord at the epididymis, rested its center where the bar would strike, and released the bar. It struck and buried just under halfway deep into the firm flesh of his nut and he panted up rapid squeaks, shuddering as if he were being tazed and then shouted his squeaks louder, higher, more desperate as she rocked the bar back and forth in the crevice it had plunged, deeper, deeper. Then his squeaky voice calmed a little. She had let up a little. Then she pressed the bar all the way through and his ball rent apart and his voice shut off as his head flew up. His shuddering was now hard kicking and flopping, his cage thumping the floor.

She opened the trap, pulled the bar back all the way and held it with her thumb and centered his nut lengthwise on the base and said, "Ready, baby?" His head raised and lowered, raised and lowered as the pain exploded throughout him, overwhelming levels of agony and misery mixed, spicing his hair on end, and then she let the bar go, thumping in deep across the first crevice. Phillip Martin's rapid panting found a low, rumbling voice and he moaned in and moaned out, five or six breaths per second, shaking and trying to turn to one side or the other in his sling. Cassandra would tell Flynn at her home that the only thing she missed in punishment cells was leaving the prisoners free to drop to the floor and roll around in agony. She loved to watch them. She grinned as Martin almost managed to do so.

She rocked the bar back and forth and his bass moaning rose smoothly into falsetto. "Do they hurt, baby girl?" she mocked him, then pressed the bar all the way down, and his right nut squished into four chunks. His falsetto moaning shot into a thin whine and his cage rattled loudly. She opened the trap and tossed it aside, stood with a purr and walked around, sat on Joseph Gaines's cage and grinned beautifully wide - Flynn grinned with her - as she watched Phillip Martin's face contort hideously as the pain flooded throughout him.

"Guess what, Phillip!" she sang. His grimace did not change. He only lolled his head around, shaking and drooling. "Now the real pain begins!" She walked out, sat, and cradled his balls. His shaking and coughing whines did not change. She grasped a ball in each hand, set her thumbs where the crevices crossed. "This is every animal's 'Fuck you,' Phillip!" she squealed and dug in hard. Phillip Martin's coughing whine flurried up into ragged falsetto howls, arpeggios and scales intertwined as she kneaded into his wounds, stretching them, squeezing them apart. Flynn couldn't see her hands but he could hear in Phillip Martin's voice what she was doing and winced away. He shook his head and shivered as Martin's head raised as far as it would go, sweaty brown hair draping his shoulders, wagging slowly side to side, his whole body bouncing in every direction in his sling, chains rattling like sleigh bells.

She swirled her thumbs hard all around, up and down, in circles, side to side, squeezing into fists. Phillip Martin's howling pinched into whining mewls now and then, blasting into full falsetto voice now and then, always fluttering up high and down low. Then, just as he had sucked in a deep breath, he screamed and flexed stiff, a perfect C-Sharp and Flynn blinked away at its fiery volume. She was squeezing his balls as hard as she could and they weren't balls anymore. They were jelly.

She released them and his scream quickly dwindled to a rapid keening wail of sobs, his head swung under him and his drool slimed the floor. She walked around and knelt before him, pulled up his head and slapped him hard. She slapped him again. Again. Then shoved his jaw shut with her left hand and said, "Would you like me to cut them off, Phillip? Say 'please' and I will!" Phillip Martin quivered his lips together, beholding her through tight, red eyes, tears sheeting glossy over both cheeks, but no word came out. She smiled. "No, no, no! You have to say 'please' or they just keep hurting you!"

Phillip Martin mumbled, "Pppplease," in a shuddering, voiceless whisper. She winked at him, let his head flop down and sat behind him. She took her tools from behind Joseph Gaines and set them in her lap. She grabbed Phillip Martin's mushy nuts together in her left hand and he gasped and shrieked in a long breath. She squeezed hard and his shriek rocketed higher. Then she sliced the razor across his nutsack and his shriek began to subside. Phillip Martin was not completely insane, and what little of him was left inside was truly happy that he now had no balls. She turned her left hand over and they fell out of his sack and splashed into the drain. She dropped the flesh in after them, set the razor on the floor and reached with the burdizzo up into his scrotum and he yiped into silence at the first crunch.

Five crunches later and he had made no more noises but shallow breaths. Clack clack clack clack clack clack. His shuddering rattled louder, louder. Then slowly began to soften. "All done, honey! Enjoy your new life!" She tossed the burdizzo and stapler to the floor and spanked him as she stood, squeezed his right ass cheek and patted it. Flynn saw her smile over Phillip Martin as he shook and moaned.

Then she turned to the next man. He was looking her in the eyes and screamed, "PLEEEEEEASE!!!!!!!!!!!"