Those Who Resisted - Part 14: Stephen Brandon Bridgers

She went behind Flynn and he heard water running for a while, then the fridge open and shut. She reappeared chugging gatorade. She tossed the bottle, belched and sighed to him. The last man to be castrated beheld her up and down, feet to hair to feet to puffy pussy, then craned back to see Flynn. The man did not seem scared at all.

"You want another?"

Flynn shrugged. "Well, I'm not thirsty, but...I think I'm gonna need it." She nodded and brought him a thirty-two ounce bottle from the fridge.

The man in the cage spoke while she held it to Flynn's lips, "Can I have one?" He was a baritone. She turned and said, "I cannot begin to express to you how little you should be talking right now." He blinked down at the floor and did not look up again. She turned back to Flynn, who finished drinking, and she tossed the bottle behind him. "Good?"

He nodded with a little smile, then belched. Her padding steps echoed dank around the room as she walked through puddles of water, blood and her cum, took the chair and her tools from behind Hammond and set them in front of Flynn. He gasped and looked at her with wide eyes but she did not return his gaze, just walked over and took the clipboard from the cage of the man to Flynn's left and read, "Stephen Brandon Bridgers! AKA! The North Hollywood Wrangler! AKA! Johnny Six Hundred! AKA! King No One!"

"Holy shit!" Flynn said and looked him over. Bridgers did not raise his head, just stared blankly into his drain.

"Thirty-five years old! Five feet nine inches! Hair brown! Eyes brown! Crimes! Sedition! One! Rape! Six hundred sixteen!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Flynn murmured. Bridgers did not react.

She flipped the page and cleared her throat. "Detailed! Sedition! Infantry! Rape! Suspect raped at least six hundred sixteen different females ranging in age from eight years to sixty-one years, over the course of seven years! Suspect was apprehended in the act of raping a seventeen-year-old girl!" She tossed the clipboard clattering behind her and said to Flynn, "That seventeen-year-old's name is Sarah. She's now nineteen and one of my best friends."

Flynn glared down at Bridgers, who did not look up or move. "I'm not even sorry for you, man! Fucking eight-year-olds!? EIGHT-year-olds, dude?! God!" He shook his head as he looked away.

"Yeah, really!" Cassandra said as she walked around to Bridgers's left and knelt. He looked up at her dripping pussy. "Mr. Bridgers? Up here, please?"

"Fuck you!" he muttered.

"Fuck me?" She laughed through her nose and rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I just told you to keep your mouth shut!"

"I'm enjoying this as much as I can, bitch! You're gonna torture me regardless, so why the fuck not?! Huh?"

She waited but he didn't look up, just watched her pussy drip. "I'll tell you why the fuck not! Because I can always make it worse!" Bridgers finally reacted: he gulped. "Are you so Goddamn dumb that you couldn't hear the despair? The - the frantic, overwhelming horror that pain caused most of these men? And you've never felt anything that bad! Right?" He only breathed calmly, gazing at her trickling pussy. It occurred to him that she was actually cumming from the anticipation of what she was about to do to him. But he still refused to show fear. "So I'll tell you what! I am going to make it worse! But before I do! Mr. Bridgers?" He didn't flinch. He just stared at her pussy. She yanked his head up by his hair but he still didn't look away from it. "If you don't look at me I will stick red-hot needles into your eyes and they will explode!"

He looked at her. She smirked. "I see no fear in them! I am impressed! Because you know in your predicament you should be afraid! I think you refuse to show it because you really want to convey how remorseless you are! You refuse to feel bad about what you've done! That right?"

He glared at her for a moment, then whispered, "Yes."

She shrugged a little. "Well. You're adamant about your decision! I can respect that!" His breathing hastened slightly as he saw the barbaric rage in her beautiful eyes. She grinned her beautiful teeth at him and purred, "Before I make your punishment even worse, allow me to tell you just how I'm going to remove your manhood!" She looked under him, then back with a smirk. "What little of it you have!" He scowled as she dropped his head and walked behind Flynn. "It's the simplest methods that work the best! I try to bring a little irony to each punishment! Hence why I ass rape men who are rapists! Most of them absolutely don't like it in their own asses!" Flynn and Stephen Bridgers heard metal clanging. She padded back, saying, "I came up with most of these punishments myself! And this one I'm going to inflict on you?" She knelt before him. He was staring at the floor again. "I think it's my personal fave! Look up!"

Stephen Bridgers sighed and looked up. She held two red bricks before him. Each was wrapped in sandpaper. "I've done this enough times to know that 100-grit causes the maximum amount of pain over the course of twenty minutes! Because it doesn't destroy the tunica albugineas until about the end of that time! Now, Stephen?" He looked her in the eyes. She purred in her sonorous contralto, "This punishment actually hurts so much, I've observed, that your cocktail of drugs will be insufficient to save you from first blacking out and then a heart attack or shock! Unless! I also upend you! So that your head is the lowest part of your body! Okay? And in that position? You won't be able to bleed to death via your testicles? For about twenty to twenty-five minutes! So! I'm going to raise you upside down! Crush your balls between these bricks! And then do this!" She scraped the bricks back and forth. "To them!" Her eyes never left his as he glanced down at them then back up to her. Now she was smiling wide, lips shut, and her eyes flared a wide, emerald blaze. Stephen Bridgers gulped and she saw him steel himself again as he glared right back at her. She stopped scraping and sniffed a little laugh. "You're about to experience the agony of your balls exploding! Non-stop! For twenty minutes!"

He blinked away back into his drain. "After the first three or so?" she said. "You will be completely and permanently insane from the pain! But your brain will still be able to perceive it!" She stood. "But first things first!" He felt the weight of the bricks on his back and she disappeared. Flynn watched her take the blowtorch and squeeze sparker from the bench, the chair and her tools and set them at Bridgers's left side. She padded behind Flynn and returned with another tool. It looked like the burdizzo.

She knelt on both knees and said, "This is an elastrator! It stretches a tiny, very strong rubber band wide enough for it to be fitted around a scrotum." She began gently, slowly jerking Stephen Bridgers off. His cock plumped quickly and his breathing hastened. "Then the band is left there for a few days until the balls rot. They're dead after about four hours and the pain is quite terrible, men have said, until they are." His cock was rock-hard. She burst into bright, merry laughter. "Fucking four inches, Stephen!? Jesus! That explains a lot! Well, at least you didn't hurt any of those eight-year-olds! Not physically!"

"Bitch, fuck you!" he barked.

"Fuck me? No, you fuck this!" and Bridgers bellowed up into a scream at the top of his falsetto voice as he felt a razor blade slicing lengthwise into the slit of his urethra. He shook and rattled mightily side to side as slow Hell-fire sawed down the center of his cock. She gripped it tight at the base in her right hand so it couldn't soften and blood erupted first, then blood mixed with piss. His scream tore into a raucous screech as the blade sliced its way down, filleting his dick apart. She reached her fist, sawed the blade once more back out and laid it on the floor. His screaming quickly began subsiding, then whimpered out like a candle flame. He moaned as the afterburn seared and blood poured from his dick. Then he grunted as she pinched the splayed sides of his cock together, and felt something slowly slide around his glans, slowly back, farther.

She released him with her right hand and settled the rubber band at the base of his cock, slipped it from the elastrator's prongs and it squeezed his cock tight. His bleeding stopped almost immediately.

She held his cock together and he growled as he felt the slow slice of the blade across just in front of the band and just behind where his cock was sliced open. It didn't hurt nearly as much but his growl rose as she slowly sawed deeper and when she reached his urethra, his growl reluctantly yiped into screaming. His mouth was wide open as he felt the blade snip through the bottom of his urethra. Then she laid the blade under his head and yanked his cock off, tearing the last shred of flesh. He howled and it quickly waned to falsetto whimpering.

She dangled his severed cock under his eyes and squealed, "Woo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!!! She danced it around and wiped it bloody across his mouth. Stephen Bridgers, rapist of over six hundred women, started sobbing like a little girl. "Yeah!" she snarled. "That's regret, Stephen! I would've let you keep this if you had kept your fucking mouth shut!" She flopped it onto the floor beneath his face and Stephen Bridgers heard a hollow hiss behind him.

Then he shrieked as the blowtorch flame seared over the stump of his cock, shrieked faster and faster until his breath screeched out of him in electric falsetto, raucous and strident. It didn't stop for fifteen seconds.

Then Flynn heard the echoes begin and they lasted for seven seconds. She turned the blowtorch off and set it on the floor behind her, stood and walked behind Flynn and returned with a larger dildo than the one smeared with blood and shit, lying in the middle of the room.

She held it under his eyes as his breathing calmed. Hard, black rubber. "Don't worry, Stephen! I didn't seal your urethra! You can still piss! I just cauterized around it! Now this?" She turned it around for him to see. It had a handle in the hilt. "This is sixteen inches long and three inches thick, Stephen! And I'm gonna shove it so far up your ass that it rips a hole through your colon!"

She stepped around and knelt behind him, grabbed his ass with her left hand and set the dildo on the floor. "But first! I need the whole prison to know what you did!"

He shrieked as he felt a vertical slice in his left ass cheek. She drew the razor down slowly, then a horizontal slice carving around and his shrieking fluttered up like maniacal giggling. She had just cut the letter "P" in his ass and began cutting "E."

His howling resounded for forty seconds as she carved "PEDO" on his left cheek and "PHILE" on his right. His ass streamed red down his thighs as she set the razor on the floor.

"Hang on a sec!" she shouted over his dwindling scream and disappeared behind Flynn, then reappeared unscrewing the lid from a salt shaker. She knelt, dropped the lid and poured salt into her palm, then smeared it over the letters and Stephen Bridgers's scream fluttered up again like a jagged bolt of lightning around the dungeon.

She bared her teeth in a snarl as she emptied the shaker and smeared every letter across, twisting her hands and grinding it in. His writhing undulated just like his voice, fast up and down as the acid fire consumed him.

She sat in the chair and waited for ninety seconds, until he was quiet enough to hear her. Then she sniffed and knelt behind him, grabbed his ass with her left hand and set the tip of the dildo at his anus.

"This is what it feels like to be raped, Stephen!" His moaning was rapid and deep. "To be violated!" She squeezed his ass. "To have your fucking innocence snatched from you at the Goddamned age of eight!" She snarled, "You shit-spackled sack of cunt mange!!"

She shoved the dildo in and Flynn watched her back and right shoulder ripple with muscle. Stephen Bridgers groaned loudly, louder, growling through clenched teeth as it plunged all the way in past the hilt until her fist was halfway inside his ass, and Bridgers' growl yiped up into a ragged wail as he felt something deep inside his guts tear apart from right to left.

His shaking erupted into shivering vibrations and she shoved it deeper, twisted it, and his wailing shot up to the highest pitch yet heard in the room that day. She wrenched the dildo left, then right, then in a wide circle around his ass and his scream rose in a flutter impossibly higher and now Flynn couldn't be sure what pitch it was.

She stood and left the dildo in his ass, turned and shouted, "I'll make him shut up! Hang on!" then began dragging Stephen Bridgers's cage out into the center of the room. Now Flynn could see Bridgers's hideous facial contortions as he lolled his head, tongue curled out, eyes clenched tight, both cheeks glossed with tears.

She took the bricks from his back and set them on the floor. Then his cage began to rise at the other end. She lifted him upside down, settled the cage, and then started turning it around. When she stopped, Stephen Bridgers was facing Flynn ten feet away, still screaming in a high, fluttery falsetto, no weaker or feebler.

Flynn saw her bright teeth open in a grin as she chuckled past him and brought the chair back to Bridgers's side. She stood in it, pulled up his balls and Flynn saw that she had cut off his dick. Flynn nodded. He approved of this one.

She held Bridgers's balls between the sandpapered bricks, looked to him and smiled. Flynn wasn't sure he should, but he finally smiled back, just a little spread of the right corner of his mouth. Then he looked down at Stephen Bridgers's clenched eyes, mouth wide and wailing, and then his eyes opened wide, red, white, and brown, and his wail shut off into silent, shivering breaths as she crushed both his balls fast between the bricks.

Blood and orange nut mush sprayed all over her face and she lolled her head around with a grin as if she were taking a shower. Stephen Bridgers flexed like a board and she held the bricks together with her right hand, reached over and yanked his head up backward. He heaved hard and growled loudly as he vomited across the floor, food and blood for eight seconds. Then he started dry-heaving and she let his head flop down.

She shook with laughter in the sudden silence, gasped, and said, "Here's your last ride, Stephen! Twenty minutes of Hell! Hold on tight!" And she began scraping the bricks back and forth as fast as she could, arms and shoulders flexing beautifully, larger, larger.

For twenty minutes, all anyone in the room heard was the rapid scratch-scratch of the bricks. They ground Stephen Bridgers's balls into paste and rent his tattered tunica albugineas into shreds. And yet his tunicas, his testicular walls, were tough enough to take it and let his brain know he was suffering the purest, most severely exquisite pain he had ever felt.

Thirty seconds after she began, Stephen Bridgers, AKA The North Hollywood Wrangler, AKA Johnny Six Hundred, AKA King No One, was no longer a serial rapist, a psychopath, or a sociopath. One has to be human first. And in those thirty seconds, Cassandra had destroyed his humanity, his sense of ethics, and she laughed a clotted growl through her teeth as she avenged the six hundred and sixteen women and little girls, whose psychological and emotional health he had permanently scarred.

Flynn beheld nothing at all in Stephen Bridgers's facial expression except pain. He did not see horror, or terror, or regret. Bridgers's eyes and mouth gaped wide, he drooled vomit and snot trailed from both nostrils. His tears had soaked his eyebrows and his body vibrated all over, chains jingling slightly. The pain had paralyzed him and the only thing he could move was his diaphragm as he breathed in shivering hitches.

Blood erupted over the bricks and her hands, down her forearms as she sanded his balls to rags. "Fifteen minutes to go, Stephen! How do they feel!?" Stephen Bridgers heard this but did not understand it. He would live in ADX Florence, "The Alcatraz of the Rockies," in twenty-three hour lockdown for the next fifty-two years and die at the age of eighty-seven.

"Ten minutes!" she growled.

His one hour per day of exercise would be spent drooling and twitching on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Other prisoners would be given more television and video game time as rewards for wiping his ass and dressing him. He would be fed through a tube inserted into his stomach because he would no longer understand how to chew and swallow.

"Five minutes!" Flynn couldn't take his eyes off her arms. They were massive from the effort but still perfectly feminine. The blue veins stood out thick down the centers of her biceps. "If there's anything left of you in there, Stephen!" There was not. "Keep in mind! They're gonna have to do surgery to repair your transverse colon where I perforated it! And guess what!? No fucking anesthesia!!"

She snarled as she ground away even faster, then shouted, "Done!!" and released what was left of his mangled manhood. His facial expression and vibrating, his shivering pants did not change as she stepped down and dropped the bricks. She returned to his upturned ass with the burdizzo, razor, and stapler. Flynn counted six crunches per cord. Stephen Bridgers's wide-eyed, wide-mouthed gape did not change. He had become pain.

She tossed the burdizzo, sliced his sack neatly off, tossed the razor and clacked his scrotum shut, stepped down and pulled his cage over toward her, away from Flynn, set it down and walked around to Bridgers's right. He now lay on his back, still gaping his silent grimace. She lifted his cage and rolled him over once so he lay on his left side, then sat heavily on the cage and panted.

She looked up at Flynn.