Chapter two

In my line of work, utilizing castration is pretty much a surefire means of gathering information from men. It's a technique a few bold women have been employing against opposing warriors or other enemies for eons, and one I was especially passionate about using against the latest crop of terrorist invaders of my generation. I had read the tales of Moorish women performing a slow and painful castration on captured Templar knights to extract their secrets during their crusade against the Moors, and I had even used several of their techniques in a couple of my interrogations. Such brutally painful and extreme practices were generally not called for, but more than fun to employ in any case. If my current prisoner was about to prove as difficult to obtain information from as a Christian knight of old, and I suspected he would, I had the necessary equipment in my valise to assure he would have an unforgettable experience that was sure to loosen his lips. I was almost hoping he would be difficult as I turned toward the door of the other room.

“Tomlinson, I need more water in here,” I snapped as I opened the door and reentered the room containing the agents. I'm sure that they would have been a little more excited about seeing my still bared left breast with a nipple as puckered and hard as a raisin tossed in the heat of the desert, but when they saw the streaks of semen stains running up the slightly rolled up sleeves of my blouse to just above the upper cuffs of the latex gloves I was wearing, they knew what was in store for the prisoner, and I thought I detected a couple of them reaching to cover their groins with both hands.

“Now don't go barging in there under any circumstances Tomlinson, no matter what you hear,” I snapped as I took another two liter bottle of the tepid water from him. “No matter what!”

I reentered the interrogation room and closed the door behind me. I opened the bottle of water and took a good long sip before walking up to the prisoner and dousing his limp cock and sagging balls with a good flush of water. This was all the antiseptic he was going to get, as well as anything to dull the pain.

As I picked up a scalpel and turned toward the prisoner, I said coldly, “Omar, Abdullah, or whatever you name is, I am going to castrate you right where you sit unless you tell me right fucking now where your friend might be with all that stuff you fuckers stole from that cargo ship. Right now. I want an answer right now!”

I could see a glimmer of fear, and then a return to the stoic gaze of a man that was well trained in keeping his mouth shut.

Without a moments hesitation I moved right up to the prisoner, leaned down, and grabbed his left testicle with a firm squeeze and began to cut.

Every man I have ever castrated has reacted to the searing burn of the stainless blade slicing into sensitive scrotal skin, and this prisoner was no different. He cried out and bucked in the chair as I continued cutting and opening the slit in his bag, and not being all that careful about nicking the really sensitive testicle either. I had the huge testicle almost out of the wrinkling bag when the prisoner fought even harder. Using a technique I read from the journals of a Moorish woman on how to castrate a lightly restrained man, I touched the razor tip of the scalpel against the tough testicular membrane at the blunt tip of his testicle. I had noticed a small area not covered with either a vein or arterial capillary, and that is where I pressed the blade.. As keen as the scalpel was, it took a firm push before the protective sheath parted, and the blade sank into the soft and nerve rich core. The instantaneous severity of the sudden and numbing agony exploding in the prisoner's testicle caught him totally unaware, and quickly sent him into a state of near shock. The pain had an immediate calming effect, and the prisoner simply moaned and shuddered as I went back to cutting the testicle free of the scrotum, nicking away at the connective tissues gripping the thick attaching cord until I had it completely free of the quickly shriveling and tightening scrotum. I left it hanging to continue to send the surge of pain to calm the prisoner as I began cutting on the opposite testicle.

The prisoner tensed every muscle and sinew in his entire body, but remained quite still as I cut his right testicle free of the scrotal sack. I had it dangling and completely freed up as the scrotum wrinkled and tightened around the cord before the dying nerves in his right testicle began to wane and die. The prisoner began babbling and struggling slightly as the intensity of the pain subsided just a little.

“Now before I cut your nuts completely off, if you tell me where your friends are, I will simply put your balls back where they belong and stitch you back up. That way you will still be able to thrill the girls with that big cock of yours. Are you going to tell me where your friends are?”

I was lying of course. I had never had any intention of doing anything remotely like that, and one way or the other this prisoner was going to be castrated before I left this room. He would be just one less terrorist or criminal out of the gene pool as far as I was concerned. Besides, a girl doesn't get to cut a man with balls this big more than possibly once in a lifetime, and I sure as hell wasn't about to pass that up either.

“Nobu...my name is Nobu,” the prisoner gasped. “Please stop....Please!!!”

“Well I've stopped for now Nobu, but I need to know right fucking now where your friends are,” I said calmly while holding up the scalpel in my bloody gloved hand.

“Obbia,” The prisoner managed to gasp, “My friends are in Obbia.”

I knew that was a port city not all that far from our current location, but I needed to know far more than just that. I doubted if the President would sign off on vaporizing an entire Somali city, and time was of the essence.

“Nobu, I need to know exactly where in Obbia. I need a street address. You better tell me right away too, since your left testicle isn't looking so good right now, and if I don't act right away, I may not be able to save it. ”

“No...please save it...please,” The prisoner managed to beg.

I could see him starting to tear up, and reached into the valise and took out a small package of gauze pads.

“Ok, let me have a look at that testicle Nobu. I really don't want anything to happen to it ok.”

He looked upwards and shuddered as I gently held the badly damaged testicle and made a couple cursory dabs to the punctured tip to check just how sensitive and painful the gash still was. The blood oozing from the open wound in his scrotum was already beginning to stop, and I swiped the pad through the little liquid pool and held it up for Nobu to see. Just for effect.

“Your testicle is really bleeding badly Nobu. I need to stitch it up right away, so please tell me where exactly your friends are so I can do that. I don't want a handsome young man like you to have to go through life with only one testicle.”

“Please save my balls,” he pleaded. “I'll tell you everything, just save them...please.”

I quickly moved to open the door and snapped, “Tomlinson! I need a paper and pen pronto!”

Tomlinson knew the routine and handed me a writing pad and a pen, and I quickly slammed the door and returned to the prisoner.

“Tell me the address quickly Nobu. I need to know that before I can help you. Tell me.”

Nobu was sweating profusely from both the heat and the intense pain, and he started to babble and rattle off numbers.

I had no idea what the hell he was saying until it suddenly struck me. This wasn't any code or anything, it was GPS coordinates. Danko had already gotten the prisoner to talk. He just didn't recognize what he was hearing.

I wrote everything down as fast as I could, listening intently to the constant stream of repetitious numbers the prisoner was rattling off. Five, twenty two, forty two, forty eight, thirty two, zero five. Over and over in an almost delirious voice the prisoner repeated the chain of numbers. I wrote them on the paper as 5-22-42 and 48-32-05 without the designation of degrees, minutes, and seconds. It would put us close enough that special forces and the Seals would certainly be able to take the pirates out and recover the radioactive materials.

I immediately ran to the door and tossed the writing pad to Tomlinson as I snapped, “Here are the coordinates where they have the package. Call it in pronto!”

I then closed the door behind me as I walked back toward the prisoner.

There comes a time in every interrogation like this where the male prisoner always talks. Once that has occurred, well then the rest of the interrogation is just for my pleasure, and Nobu or whoever he really was, would soon know just how I take my pleasures with a man like him. The poor miserable bastard.

“Please save me now!, he pleaded. “Please!”

“Of course I will Nobu. Of course I will.”

I think he actually believed me when I reached into the valise and pulled out a roll of tape. White duct tape, and reinforced with Kevlar strands. You could restrain a wild bull elephant with this stuff.

I quickly ripped off a piece about four inches long and slapped it over the mouth of the stunned prisoner. Now there was some serious fear in those bugged out eyes of his.

Taking my time, I wrapped several layers of tape very tight around the prisoner's slim waist and rugged chest to hold him absolutely secure in the chair. Two wraps just below his knees took care of any leg movement too. The finale though was using tape around his head and neck to keep his head from any sort of movement, and of course positioned so he was looking down at his bloodied crotch and exposed balls. He would watch as I completed his emasculation.

I moved the other chair with my valise right beside the prisoner, and I then knelt down in front of him. This was going to be the highlight of my entire day, and despite the insufferable heat.

I began with the left testicle, and using the scalpel, I inserted the tip right in the slit I had previously put in it, and let the blade slowly part the tough outer shell right down the length of it to the thick knot of the connecting cord. The prisoner's screams were audible right through the tape, only muted. I looked up into his face, and I could see his eyes rolling back into his head in a fluttering motion. The pain was so intense he was on the verge of passing out, or dying. I really didn't care, but I reached for a small emasculator to crush the cord before he did either. Positioning the jaws around the hefty testicular cord, I slid the small jaws right into the slit in his scrotum and squeezed hard. I heard a slight crunch as the cord began to separate, and I noticed the blood from one of the severed capillaries in the split testicle immediately stopped flowing. I twisted and rocked the emasculator as I squeezed with both hands to finally sever the tough cord completely. I set the emasculators back down and placed the oversized testicle in a small clear plastic bag.

I gave the prisoner a moment, and it wasn't long before he snapped out of his pain induced stupor. I poured a little of the piss-warm water into my hand and splashed it onto his face with my bloody gloved hand. Warm as it was, it still helped to revive him somewhat.

During a couple of my interrogations I had actually crushed a man's testicle with pliers. It was certainly effective enough, but so painful that both times the prisoner had passed out before talking. Well since this particular little prick had already talked, I decided a severe crush might be fun. Well fun for me anyway.

Rifling through my valise, I came up with a curved pair of adjustable pliers. The beauty of them were that you could adjust the amount of space between the jaws, so you could in theory crush a testicle to the absolute point of exploding, but just shy of it. I maneuvered the handles and made what I thought was a pretty close estimation, and reached for the prisoners last testicle.

Muted by the tape or not, the prisoner emitted a high pitched yell as I applied considerable pressure on the handles. I wasn't sure which was abut to burst first, the crushed testicle, or the bulging veins in the prisoners neck. I backed off the pressure when his eyes were once again fluttering to roll backwards.

Twice more I squeezed and had him on the verge of passing out. I decided to stop when he began to look more than a little weary. I think I had taken him to the very edge of endurance one time too many. Besides, I had enough of this damn heat.

I grabbed the emasculator, ran the jaws deep into the open gash in the scrotum, and with a two handed squeeze I finalized his castration.

As I tossed the testicle into the plastic bag with it's companion, I had a sudden thought. A quick check of my valise and I found exactly what I was looking for.

Grabbing the scalpel again, I turned to the prisoner and grabbed his withered and badly shrunken cock by the now wilted head, and pulled it directly away from his crotch with considerable force. When stretched to as thin a tube as possible, I quickly sliced right through the soft shaft about an inch from his belly. I dropped the severed cock in the plastic bag along with the severed balls, and sealed the top. I then opened a large packet of Quikclot powder and dumped the whole thing in the prisoners crotch. There was enough powder to stanch a bullet wound the size of your thumb, and the bloody nub of cock and the two oozing gashes in the empty scrotum began to seal almost immediately. I wanted this little prick to live out the rest of his life with a heavy dose of regret for what he had done, and with the knowledge a mere wisp of a girl had totally emasculated him.

I tossed the bloody gloves, slipped into my jacket, and grabbing my valise I walked out of the room. I tossed the plastic bag of severed balls and cock right on the table in front of the agents as I passed them on my way toward the outer door. The slap of the bag of dead flesh landing on the tabletop had all the seated men rearing back in their chairs in stunned disbelief, and I gave a little laugh a moment before saying, “He's all yours now boys.”

The last words I heard as the door was closing behind me was “Holy fucking Jesus!”