Thecia’s Iron bucket

My name is thecia and I’m a 31-year-old "Cutter."

Last Friday I received a phone call from Dr. Pann. Dr. Pann is a female MD who operates a woman’s support group. I’ve done contract "cuttings" for her in the past. Usually, when I do this for her, it’s on rapists and child molesters.

This time we were speaking of a rapist who was at large near Virginia Beach, VA. His M O was to rape a younger woman in her home. He would push in, If the woman didn’t yield, he would beat her into submission, rape her, make her take a shower and finally, using a razor, he would cut a notch out of the woman’s ear.

The police were at a loss, but Dr. Pann’s people had tracked the rapist and were watching him. Rather than simply turn him over to the police, Dr. Pann wanted a permanent rehabilitation, in her words "chop his nuts off."

That’s where I come in, chopping nuts off is my specialty.

With the help of Dr. Pann’s operatives we knew where he lived and where he looked for his victims. My friend and sidekick, Jill was there to help. As usual in these "trap" things, poor Jill was again to be the bait. She wore a conservative business suit that was cut to show her near perfect boobs and her tight ass.

She walked past the doorway where we knew he was waiting, she carried two large paper grocery bags. Our bait trick seemed to be working. He stepped out behind her, about 50 feet from her. He followed silently because of his rubber-soled shoes. He slowly closed the gap. She turned to the apartment that was rented by Dr. Pann for our plan and fumbled for her keys. It was ground floor and only about three steps up from the street.

As she finally got the key in the door and it opened, Mr. Rapist vaulted the three steps and pushed her into the apartment. She dropped the bags as he confronted her with a straight razor. He said, "drop to your knees and blow me you cunt." Jill did as she was told. But for the razor, Jill would have laughed at his puny little cock, but she just put her mouth around it and began a blowjob. He said, "don’t make me cum, I’m still going to fuck you." We had oiled the bathroom door hinges and it opened silently as I pushed on it. Even though he didn’t want to cum, he didn’t have much choice, Jill is a professional and just brought him to the edge when she wanted to. I saw his balls tighten and his ass begin to buck. I counted and on the second squirt of cum the twin needles of my tazer hit him square in the ass. He fell to the floor screaming. His little cock still spurting cum. As he lay there writhing, Jill walked up to him and kicked him hard in the balls several times. I had to stop her before she scrambled his nuts and ended our fun. His balls were pretty big but next to his little cock they looked immense.

Dr. Pann had installed two shelves high on the wall. Each shelf had an extra heavy bracket securely fastened to the wall studs. These were designed for my use.

With Jill’s help I dragged the still dazed man to the wall and using steel reinforced leather wrist cuffs we hung him from the shelf supports.

We tied his ankles to a broomstick to keep them wide apart. We also ran straps under his butt up to the supports, we didn’t want to damage his wrists. From the bathroom I retrieved my 10-gallon cast Iron bucket. I bought this bucket at a flea market with exactly this use in mind.

I used a similar leather cuff, securing it around the neck of his ballsack. This one had four attachment points to keep from twisting his balls when we applied weight to them. Jill and I lifted the bucket and attached the four chains on it to the ball cuff. It took both of us to lift it, as it weighed slightly over 40 lbs. When we let the weight of it down on the hangers the man (we later learned that his name was troy) began to scream. His balls held the burden, but I’m sure it hurt. I had a one gallon milk bottle to use as a measure. As I poured the first quart in, he begged, "No more, Please!) The forth quart made it 48 pounds total. I had once seen a man support 52 pounds with his ball sack (a record as far as I know, Some set of balls, I was impressed,) so I knew that this guy could handle it. When we reached three gallons (54total pounds) his screaming was so loud that we had to gag him lest the neighbors call the cops. His sack was pulled down at least six inches. And the iron vessel was beginning to touch the ground. With great effort Jill and I lifted it and shortened the chains to the cuff. Troy tried to scream into the gag, but he only mumbled. We let him hang there for a while and had a cup of coffee. He had stopped screaming and was just sobbing. I removed his gag, his first words were, "cut them off, cut my balls off, Please!!.) I took his own razor and placed the blunt side against his ballsack, he jerked at the feel of the cold steel. I laughed and told him that it was not over yet. His big balls were bright red and his scrotum looked like it belonged in a bad sex cartoon.

Quart after quart we poured into the iron torture device. When we reached six gallons (total weight =96#) he passed out. We let him hand like that for a few minutes before reviving him. As he hung there with tears running down his cheek, we taunted him. Things like, " How does it feel rapist?" and "Would you like another blow job?" As anyone who has read my stories knows, I don’t like pain, not giving nor receiving. This time was different. Again, using his own razor, I cut a notch out of his right ear. As the blood began to run from it, I calmly notched his left ear, all this with almost a hundred pounds hanging from his tortured balls. I was enjoying this.

We added gallon after gallon until the vessel was full. Somehow his ballsack and cords held over one hundred and twenty pounds. About my weight. He had passed out and been revived several times during this filling process.

I was at a loss now, I could simply press down on the pot and surely his balls would rip off. But I wanted to do it one quart at a time, very slowly. Finally my impatience got the best of me. I took his razor and used it like a machete across the neck of his ball sack. The rope that was his nut sack split like a rubber band. The Iron bucket hit the floor with a bang and both of his big balls. , the leather cuff and his sack hit the water with a sploosh sound. Blood was running from his severed cords.

I quickly tied off the blood vessels and stemmed the bleeding. I collected the now dead balls and the remains of his nutsack. I washed them in alcohol and put them in the preservative.

We left him hanging there. We called 911 from a payphone and told the police where to find their rapist.

We drove all the way to Richmond for a flight back. We stayed over night there. There were closer airports but it seemed smarter to get further away. We had a couple of hours before our 1 PM plane, so Jill and I found a great seafood restaurant. We had all you can eat king crab legs and great oyster stew. Just a great end to a productive trip.

Respectfully submitted,

Thecia