Chapter 7: Castration for Beginners

Back at the shop, it was now after midnight, so Mike decided he was as ready as he could be to start on Gordon. He wasn’t looking forward to the first bit, for even though he had hurt Danny so much, inflicting pain on someone was not Mikes forte’ so he would think of Danny and the other youngsters with each thrust.

He took the tool he had prepared over to Gordon, pushing half a handkerchief that he had cut earlier into his mouth to alter the sound of his voice. Kneeling down at the side of his head, he spoke into his ear saying, ‘Gordon Jones listen carefully, I will not repeat what I have to tell you. First of all, I am going to put something in your hand, I want you to feel it and try to picture what it is, then I will speak again.’ Mike put the piece of brush handle in between Gordons tied hands and watched as he managed to feel it all over before dropping it.

Speaking into his ear once more, Mike said, ‘What you have just felt is a brush handle. It has sandpaper stuck around it at the rounded end. When you first came in here, I measured the length of your cock, then I added two inches to allow for its size when you are erect. That length is marked on the handle. In a short while I am going to shove that up your bum, right up to that mark. ‘Gordon struggled in his bonds and made a lot of noises trying to speak. Mike waited until he gave up and quietened down.

‘Now I’m going to tell you why,’ he continued. ‘Over the past few years, you have forcibly and viciously raped at least ten young boys, making them suffer extreme pain, not only when you did it, but for at least a month afterwards. Your selfish and disgusting act left them with physical and psychological scars which will remain with them the rest of their life.

Relatives of some of your victims got together and decided not to go to the police, but to deal with you themselves. That is why you are here.’

‘You have been sentenced to two punishments for your crime. For the act of rape and the fear and pain inflicted, you have been sentenced to have this brush handle shoved up your bum ten times for each of the rapes that we know about, that is a total of one hundred times. Although this is smaller than your erect cock was, it is more rigid so you will feel at the very least the same pain that you inflicted on them. You will be extremely sore inside for at least a month and having a poo with be excruciatingly painful, just as they experienced.’

This brought on more noises and struggling. Mike again waited in silence until it subsided.

Once he had stopped, Mike resumed, ‘In a moment I am going to put a small tube in the side of your mouth. I suggest you co-operate with this as it is attached to a bottle of whiskey. Each time you suck on it, you will get a tiny amount of whiskey, which if you take enough of it, will mean you will get drunk and feel less pain. If you don’t co-operate, I’ll just leave it out and let you suffer in full. I’m going to set that up now, then we’ll talk again.’

Mike had already tied the whiskey bottle to the table leg above Gordon’s head, with the crocodile grips closing off the pipe six inches below the mouth of the bottle. He took the other end of the pipe and slid it into Gordon’s mouth, realising as he did so that because of the gag being between his teeth, he couldn’t close his mouth enough to stop the pipe going in, even if he had wanted to.

Once it was in place, Mike tied a piece of string around the pipe near Gordon’s mouth, then put the ends around his head and tied them together. Carefully releasing the crocodile grips, he allowed a slight flow, so regardless of Gordon sucking, there would now be a continuous drip of Whiskey into his mouth, which he would swallow automatically.

That done, he returned to Gordon’s ear, he decided there was no purpose in saying anything about the second part of the sentence yet, so he just said, ‘soon I will ram that handle up your bum, then I will pull it out again. Then I will ram it in every five minutes, until I have done the first ten. After that it will go in and out continuously until it’s finished. I hope for your sake that you will be well and truly drunk long before then.’

‘Oh, by the way,’ he added, ‘I almost forgot to tell you, your punishment is being recorded so that highlights can be shown to your victims. If you ever make contact with any of your victims or their families ever again, that video will be released to the press. You will also see

a set of them on your phone too, just in case you want to re-live the experience or remind yourself of what happens when you are a naughty boy.’

There was more struggling and muffled cursing for several minutes, until he gave up realising there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Mike wanted to inflict enough damage to his bowel that it would give him pain for weeks afterwards, but he didn’t want to do major damage to his insides. So given that even a rock-hard cock has a slight degree of flexibility, whereas the brush handle was totally inflexible, he decided to oil Gordon’s bum first.

He pulled the blanket off him and knelt in front of his bum. Putting the nozzle of his olive oil container right by his bum, he gave a quick squeeze which made Gordon Jump and no doubt he thought this was the first insertion. Next Mike pushed the tiny nozzle in about six inches, then squeezed it several times as he drew it out.

Going back to Gordon’s ear, he said, ‘I have just oiled your bum to make it easier for me. Just remember when you feel the pain of the brush handle going in, it would have been a lot worse unoiled. Like when you thrust your bone-dry cock up into your young victims.’

Mike sat back on the settee and let the suspense build up. He looked over at the whiskey bottle, seeing bubbles of air rising as whiskey drained out. So far it had only gone down a few millimetres, probably the equivalent of one standard measure.

Once five minutes had passed, Mike returned to kneel in front of Gordons bum, he had the brush handle in his hand which he aimed at the opening. He moved it slowly nearer until he was about an inch away. He held it with one hand around the shaft, his thumb and forefinger level with the distance mark. His other hand was over the far end. He would push with that hand until his hand around the pole touched Gordon’s bum.

He was ready to go. Gordon had no idea it was about to begin. He hesitated, not liking what he was about to do. Then he thought of Danny and thrust it forward. It slid straight in, so his hand hit Gordon’s cheeks almost immediately. Gordon’s whole body went absolutely rigid. Mike assumed that he must have screamed from the volume of the muffled noise. Mike waited a moment, then pulled it out. Gordons body went rigid once more, but there was a bit less noise this time.

Mike noted the time, then he adjusted the crocodile grips slightly to increase the whiskey flow before sitting back down on the settee. Gordon was making a strange noise, so he got up and went closer. He realised he was crying. He felt sorry for him for a moment, then he remembered that Danny had gone to the park and cried for ages with the pain. He went back to his seat and left him to it.

Just before Mike got into position for the next thrust, he noticed that the whiskey level had dropped another couple of millimetres, so Gordon had now had another standard measure. Probably not a lot for a hardened drinker, but even so, it would already be dulling the senses.

He knelt down in position with the same grip, this time ramming it in without hesitation and pulling it out straight away. Gordon went rigid again, and made the same amount of noise, then carried on crying. Mike examined the sandpaper, seeing no sign of any blood so he put it down and returned to the settee.

By the time he had done the fifth thrust, the whiskey level had gone down nearly twenty millimetres. With no sign of any leakage from Gordon’s mouth, or no sign of any choking, it was safe to assume that Gordon was drinking it. He increased the flow slightly, then resumed his seat. Gordon’s crying was now only lasting for about a minute after each thrust.

After four more thrusts, there was still no sign of any blood and Gordon’s reaction each time had reduced. The whiskey level continued to drop. By the time he did the tenth thrust, there was only a whimper from Gordon and his body only tensed slightly. Pulling it out and inspecting it, Mike still saw no blood.

He marked the whiskey level on the bottle, then watched until it dropped another ten millimetres. Then he thrust it in and pulled it almost out, then immediately back in until he had done it five times. He pulled it out and checked. Still no blood. He felt sure that Gordon’s insides must be red raw by now.