Punishment That Fits The Crime

He didn’t mind being held for a little while, in this bland gray cell with its bed and toilet, but he had been there for two weeks following the trial. The only contact was with the female guards, who fed him, brought him an occasional book to read, and took him for a shower once a week. They teased him then, stripping him and playing with his body. He didn’t like that, the bitches were like the others, thinking they were better than he.

For millennium women had a place, their natural place in nature, he felt. But in the early 21st century, the females had slowly gained more and more power until they now ran the country; all important or high paying jobs were filled with women, all lawmakers and police were women, and men were relegated to physical labor and serving women in the home. Technically, they had equal rights. But of course… some rights are more equal than others.

So he had begun to take down a few of these girls, putting them in their place. He found them in a dark alley, or behind a store, or where ever a pretty girl seemed to be alone. He was good looking, and well built. He played the submissive role well, drawing them in, until the right time.

Then he raped them.  Forced them down, pushed and shoved and erupted inside of them, leaving his seed inside their bodies, violating them.  For that small moment, justice was served and they had been put in their natural place.

Until he was caught. A silly girl, a young one, had been able to scream for help, and the police had caught him before he was finished.  What an abomination, hauled away in wrist and ankle cuffs by two girls younger than he was.

The trial was quick. Perfunctory. Rapid and with little fuss. He was convicted and sentenced in a matter of 20 minutes. His lawyer (a woman) had not even explained his punishment to him. He still wondered how long he would be locked up in this gray, empty hole.

This time when the guards came, it was a little different. For one thing, there were three of them. The additional one was a tall silky haired brunette, 6 feet tall if she was an inch. Shapely, with good boobs and a nice ass and a really cute face that made her look younger than she probably was. Under the guard’s coveralls he imagined a muscular body, thin and well toned. The kind he liked, the kind that gave him special pleasure by defiling with his body fluids.

“Get up, remove your clothes,” the lead guard barked at him. What was this? She was perhaps the cutest guard he had ever confronted, but she also had that mean glint in her eye. Her delicate hand rested on a nightstick, long fingers curled around its handle, at the ready.

“Why? It isn’t time – uugghh” he grunted when the nightstick slid out from her belt and plowed into his stomach. He bent over, clutching his stomach as the nausea rolled over him.

“Remove your clothes or we will cut them off,” the brunette said quietly.

As soon as he got control, he complied. Unzipping the front of his orange unisex prisoner jumper, he climbed out of it, removing his jailhouse slippers as he did. The lead guard smirked a little as he reached down to pull his underwear over his legs, exposing his male genitals.

It was OK, he thought. They could gawk and wish they had him. He knew he was big, his cock larger than most, hanging well over his balls, swinging heavily as he stood. The brunette moved her nightstick slowly over to his naked body and let the end of it slide up the inside of his thigh until it came in contact with his balls, lifting them slightly. He shuddered with a sudden feeling of vulnerability.  She then pushed his cock to the left, and then the right, as if appraising him.

He started to become erect. The bitch guard was so fucking sweet, he started dreaming what it would be like to slide her out of her outfit and start exploring what was underneath…  until with a soft but painful rap on his balls, she said “OK, let’s go. It’s time.”

Time for what? He thought as they exited his cell and strode down the corridor. Two of the guards walked on either side of him, holding his upper arms to guide him. He knew better than to struggle or run, they were inside several layers of electronically controlled doors which would be impossible to get past. He walked along, feeling the brunette’s presence behind him, his cock still somewhat erect just thinking of her.

They stopped in front of a solid door with no window, but with a heavy lock. With a buzz and a loud clack it opened, and he was taken inside.  A perfectly square, gray room presented itself, barren except for a few basic items.  A small table stood in the middle of the room, containing a couple of items he didn’t recognize. To the side was a flat stretcher, not unlike the backboards paramedics used to immobilize back injury patients (lots of straps on the thing). This stretcher seemed to be bolted to the wall in an upright or standing position. The other wall held a large mirror of the type that made it obvious there were people on the other side, watching him.

“Hey. What’s going on? Does my lawyer – ” his protests didn’t get far, the brunette bitch swung her nightstick hard against the back of his knees, causing him to drop and moan in pain.

“Anthony Pelligro, having been convicted and sentenced by the high court of justice in the southwest district, I hereby carry out said assigned punishment.  Restrain him,” this last she spoke to the other guards, who lifted him up and began strapping him to the hard wooden stretcher. Leather wrapped around his upper arms, wrists and elbows, across his chest, over his hips and each of his thighs, then ankles… and finally his neck. The straps seemed endless, and when they were finished, he was standing upright but unable to move.

“Do you wish a gag or blindfold?”

“No! What are you doing to me? What is this? What is this punishment?” He was angry now, secured as he was, unable to move, his naked body observed by the women guards as well as whomever was on the other side of the mirror in front of him. He could see himself in the mirror, his strong body and large manhood clearly visible. It didn’t give him as much comfort or pride as it once did, strapped on display like this.

The three guards stood back and observed him writhe in his bonds for a moment, and then left the room. He was alone, though he knew someone was watching him through the one-way mirror. He waited, occasionally shifting slightly, trying to get more comfortable. The room grew quiet, silent except for the sound of his steady breathing.

With a loud clack, the door unlocked and opened, and someone entered. Another girl entered, this one a medium sized pretty girl with sandy blond hair, freckles and cute blue eyes. She was not dressed as a guard, but wore a short skirt that exposed long, muscular, smooth legs, and a loose top that buttoned up the front.  The top was unbuttoned, revealing cleavage from smallish but well formed breasts. The overall effect was that of a very cute college student.

The blond smiled at him and approached, stopping by the table. She must not be more than 20 years old, he thought as he scowled at her, hating that he was naked and vulnerable to the whims of the young girl. She was fiddling with something at the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” she said in a soft, pleasant voice. For the first time, he felt a chill of fear run through his body as she stepped over to him.

She stood on her toes for a moment, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He smelled a tiny whiff of perfume and her soft hair brushed his naked shoulder. He found himself thinking about what it would be like to take this girl, be inside her, on top of her, feeling her struggle and gasp below him as he plunged into her and ejaculated his sperm deep into her womb.

He felt her take hold of his cock, which had begun to grow erect at the closeness of her body. One of her hands unbuttoned her top, opening to reveal her naked breasts. The other pulled his cock, encouraging it to grow in her soft hands.

The whole experience was eerie, surreal. He was bound and motionless, being observed by unknown persons through a one way mirror while a beautiful young girl stroked him to an erection, stimulating him expertly. It became even more weird when he felt lube or oil being applied to his cock, making her stimulation of him even more effective.

She was giving him a hand job.

Was this his punishment? He wanted to resist, he hated the idea of being forced to erection by this woman, of having his sperm forced from his body without his taking her. She was taking him, sucking the juices from him. His moans of pleasure were half moans of frustration, as he resisted her expert stimulation. His body was responding to her against his will. And she was good… really good… he could already feel his sperm moving through the channels between his legs, preparing itself, gathering for climax and ejaculation from his body into her hands.

She rubbed his slippery cock against her breasts, the underside of his cock head sliding over her nipple. He almost came right then, but he was still resisting. She continued the hand job, smiling up at him, encouraging him. When he could stand it no longer, the sperm deep down gathered pressure, his muscles contracted, and he began pushing, thrusting, the climax building… he was imagining the force of his orgasm spewing his fluid over her face and breasts…

With a hard, cruel force, she grasped his balls firmly in one hand, and in a single practiced motion squeezed them hard and pulled them down, away from his body. Pain shot through his balls and into his hips, and he yelped loudly. With her other hand she pressed hard, pushing and compressing the base of his cock, preventing any ejaculation.

Between the pain in his balls and the pressure squeezing his cock, his orgasm was ruined. He cried out in pain and frustration, a long, loud, bellow. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuccckkk….” he cried out.

The cute blond giggled and released his genitals. She went over to the table, and obtained something else, something long, thin and shiny.  He was writhing against his restraints, angry, aroused, and swearing. But he was aware enough to look carefully at what she brought over to him.

It was a simple thin glass rod, or probe. Smiling, she brought her pretty face to his again, and kissed him on the cheek. Taking his cock in her hand once more she stroked it lovingly, bringing it back to its full engorgement.  He moaned, feeling his arousal return, knowing that he could and would come to climax quickly if she allowed it. His cock was still quite slippery from the lube, and he felt her rub the glass rod over his cock, getting it slippery as it did.

His cock was hard, really hard. Stone hard, straining to reach orgasm as she fingered the glans. At his cock’s maximum distention, she took the glass rod and positioned it against the hole at the end, pressing it slowly in. It slid in easily, and stimulated him in a most unnatural way. Her continued delicate stimulation kept him hard as a rock as the glass slid in, until it was inserted to the full length of his cock.

When it was in all the way, the cute girl smiled once again, and repositioned her fingers. Both hands, index finger and thumb squeezing his cock; next to each other.  With a slight but firm force, her fingers bent his cock slightly, breaking off the exposed end of the glass probe. The external part she removed, the rest remained inside his cock.

It hurt; he yelled. The ragged end of the glass tube, stuck deep inside his cock, had poked and penetrated the flesh of his urethra. His cock began to lose its turgid erection, and the slight contraction pressed the urethra against the glass rod even more, causing more pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck what have you done to me bitch!?” he cried out in pain. Rapidly, she swung one hand back and then slapped him with a surprising force that almost knocked him unconscious.

She then took his still-hard cock, positioned her fingers a little lower down, and bent the flesh once more. The glass probe broke again, and he screamed this time from the pain.

Over and over again, she felt for pieces of the glass rod that were still long enough to break inside his cock. She then took it firmly, squeezed hard, bent the flesh and cracked it in two. When she was done, the glass rod stuck in his cock was in shattered pieces, sharp points and glass shards embedding in his urethral walls, causing him to cry, curse and scream in pain.

His erection was long gone. The remains of the glass probe kept his cock somewhat distended, though it was no longer engorged with blood. A few small drops of blood had oozed from the opening at the end. His shrinking cock had caused more pain, as the flesh shifted and moved against the glass shards inside.

The cruel girl smiled when she completed her work, slapped him once more, hard, and then kissed him goodbye. As she left the room, the guards re-entered and immediately unstrapped his sweaty and pain wracked body. He fell to the ground, curled up in a fetal position, trying to protect what was left of his genitals.

He was dragged back to his cell, sobbing all the way. The pain in his cock was terrible, and felt like it was invading his hips and stomach. When thrown onto his cell floor, he once again curled up, trying to protect what was already damaged beyond recovery.

The tall brunette stood in the doorway, looked down at him, and spoke when he was calm enough to listen.

“Your penis, the tool by which you attacked innocent women, has been irretrievably damaged. The glass inside has torn the flesh, which is becoming infected even as we speak. With both the smashed glass and the swelling from infection blocking your urinary tract, you will not be able to urinate.  This will cause increasing pain over the next two days, and a bladder and kidney infection will set in. This can not be reversed.”

She leaned down, her long, silky brown hair brushing his face and the tears that flowed across his face.

“Listen to me carefully. You now have two options.  You can wait to die from very painful secondary infections of your internal organs. This will take about four or five days. During this time your agony will increase until you pray for death to take you.”

With one hand, she reached down and squeezed his cock, bringing a renewed set of screams. When he quieted, she continued.

“Your other option is simple. Cut off your penis. Stop the bleeding, heal, and you will be able urinate, and maybe even live a normal life. You can work, date, live and love… well… maybe not love. But you can still be a good member of society.  One without a penis of course, unable to rape any more women.”

She took a small knife with a blade about one inch long and placed it on the floor next to his head. “Here is the instrument you can use. It is up to you. We will check on you periodically, and when you choose to remove your cock,” here she made a face of disgust, “we will help you heal.”

The door clanged shut behind her. He lay on the floor, curled up and feeling the sharp pains inside. If he didn't move, it didn't feel too bad. It hurt, and there was some minor bleeding, but he could take it. When he moved, the glass shards poked and penetrated deeper into his flesh, and he cried out with the agony.

Two hours later, the pain in his bladder was as bad as the pain in his cock. He had tried to pee, to release the urine that bloated his belly, but it refused to pass. The glass and swollen flesh prevented it. He rocked on the edge of his bed, wondering if he would have the courage to actually cut off his member. He wondered how much pain it would take for him to do it.

Kidney pain is back pain, he knew this. It hit him the next morning. The pain in his cock was no longer terrible. It simply throbbed and ached. However, he had not urinated in about 20 hours, and the pain in his bladder was excruciating. When the agony extended to his lower back, along with waves of nausea, he knew he had to do something.  The knife lay on the floor, untouched, speaking to him. He stared at it, unable to face what he knew he had to do.

Later that day, the guards checked on him. “Well, well,” said the tall brunette that had supervised his punishment. “He figured out the third option.”

She looked down on his still form laying on the floor of his cell, a large pool of blood already congealing around the open wound in his neck. The bloody knife lay on the floor next to his limp hand. His eyes stared lifelessly at nothing.