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Chapter 13 Retribution
“You didn’t boil their tits, did you Sean,” I asked as Sean O’Boyle of Somerville’s Winter Hill gang inserted a DVD in the player? We were in my bedroom. Nikki was in school and Darlene was working the mid day shift at the Squires Club.
It had been five days since my unfortunate brush with castration at Cynthia Rose’s condo. According to Doctor Pope, my testicles were not destroyed merely badly damaged. Megan and Austin had failed to make me into a eunuch. Each ball was still swollen and the slightest movement hurt. On the other hand I was horny and thinking of calling Paget to see if she wanted to come over and play nurse.
Sean and I went way back to when I walked a beat that included his Dad’s bar. I’d helped old man O’Boyle handle some sticky situations during which I became friends with his son who was about my age.
“No, of course not, Simon, I just showed them this video as a warming what would happen if they went to the cops or gave you any further grief. I thought you might like to see it,” said Simon carefully lying on the bed beside me.
Simon fancied himself a movie director or auteur as he called it. He’d been making films since he was in high school and was a graduate of the New York Academy of Film Arts.
However, his subject matter tended to be cinema verite of rape, torture, and murder which meant he was unwisely creating evidence that could be used in a court of law. It wasn’t my job to act as his legal counsel so I kept my mouth shut.
Over the years, I collected several Sean O’Boyle productions including his first that involved the gang rape of a lesbian nun on a pool table in his dad’s bar. The sister had seduced a number of girls at Bishop Fenwick’s school including two who were daughters of bosses in the local Irish mafia. Even on that early effort, he showed a penchant for the non conventional. He tied the nun’s wrists and ankles with razor wire making it a gore fest. After the rape, they wrapped her naked body in wire and dropped her off at the nunnery
Sean’s films were enjoyable to watch with a girl because they were authentic. His role as an enforcer and torturer for the Irish mob provided him the necessary income to pursue his dreams.
I’d asked Sean to kidnap the pair and accomplish two things. First priority was to retrieve all video of me screwing Megan’s siblings. That shit could put me in prison for the rest of my days.
Second priority was retribution for attempting to blackmail and castrate me. I’d cautioned him to make them endure all the pangs of hell but not to do anything too permanent or obvious. There were to be no broken bones, missing teeth, or gouged out eyes. Boiling the skin of their breasts was off the table; however it was common practice among Boston’s IRA-related Irish community and I worried Sean might have gotten carried away.
“You fucking Irish, boiled potatoes and tits,” I said as the screen flickered to life. The title read, “A Winter Hill Production of a Sean O’Boyle Film.” A second screen announced that Maryanne Baumgartner, lawyer, community activist, and mother of four was the star.
Boston PD had an arrangement with the Irish mob, also known as the Winter Hill gang. In return for looking the other way concerning the gang’s participation in prostitution, extortion, human trafficking, and drugs, the police received large sums of cash and the occasional favor. We also provided the names of snitches and informers who the gang justly punished with an excruciating death. Nobody likes a squealer. It was quid pro quo of cops and robbers that had endured for decades and out lived several FBI investigations.
In my criminal justice career, I’d accumulated several favors owed so when I was discharged from Mass General I put in a call to Sean and explained I sought retribution from Megan and Austin and the return of certain incriminating videos.
Plus no one and I mean no one can get away with fucking Boston PD. That’s a tradition that goes back to the founding of the nation’s oldest paid constabulary. The general rule was that whoever screwed with Boston PD had to suffer harm by a factor of three. You kill a cop it means you and two of your closest relatives die. If that meant your wife and kid, so be it.
“Mission accomplished, the original and two copies,” said Sean placing three discs on my night stand. “It got my motor running watching you with those two kids, especially the boy he was a cutie.”
“Are you sure that’s everything,” I asked looking at the discs marked with my name and the date. There was the possibility that Sean had retained a copy in case he had a problem with me in the future; but I discarded the idea. There is honor among thieves and furthermore Sean had a thing for me or rather my cock. When I used to drop by his Dad’s place, he would blow me in the back room for starters then bend over and take it like a good Irishman. Buggery and the Irish go together.
“Very sure, by the time, I was done with them, they were far beyond lying,” said Sean. “Let me see them. Do they still function?”
“See what,” I asked but I knew what he meant.
“Your nuts, I understand they’re damaged,” said Sean.
“Oh what the hell,” I said throwing back the cover to reveal the world’s largest testicles.
“Wow, they’re still swollen. Let me give it a kiss. Those cunts deserved everything they got,” said Sean reaching for my cock. Sean had his own castration fantasies.
“Be very gentle or I’ll scream,” I said grabbing his hand for a moment. “So what are we watching?”
I watched as Sean gently kissed the tip of my pecker. I felt a stirring which I took as a sign of recovery. “You should remember this one. Maryanne was a lawyer and community activist in Dorchester who decided the relationship between street whores and the police was too cozy. It was disturbing the ambiance of her newly gentrified neighborhood; so she surreptitiously videoed the police and the girls interacting then turned it over to a buddy at Channel 5,” said Sean unzipping his slacks and exposing his cock. “Mind if I jerk off while we watch?”
“Feel free,” I said reaching for his cock. “Wish I could. Now, I remember. It was three, no four years ago. WBZ was filled with grainy scenes of hookers getting into cop cars then disappearing for a blow job or a fuck.”
Several patrolmen and a watch supervisor were suspended and reprimanded ending their chances of promotion. A lot of good cops were hurt and retribution was called for. The word went out that Maryanne had to be taken down in a way that was untraceable back to Boston PD.
Sean’s video opened in a warehouse where a dozen Irish goons were ripping the clothes off a screaming female I assumed was Maryanne. She looked to be in her forties and about thirty pounds overweight. She was a grandmotherly type with wide hips and a big hairy bush the guys delighted in yanking.
Before they got down to serious business, the boys engaged in verbal humiliation reducing the terrified woman to tears. They’d spit in her face and tell her how fat and disgusting she was. The thugs made her stand with her feet spread wide then bend over and spread her cellulite dimpled cheeks exposing damage from hemorrhoids. As the cameras rolled, the guys fingered her ass and pussy as they informed her what an ugly pig she was. After that, things got painful.
Two guys tuned her upside down and held her legs apart while another ape wailed on her exposed vagina with a radiator hose. When your pussy is repeatedly smashed, there is no way you are going to enjoy your rape.
And it was a true rape video full of lust, energy and brutality not the fake shit you see on the Web even the Russian stuff they did with the Chechnyan woman. After they beat her senseless with rubber hoses, she was thrown on a dirty mattress and repeatedly raped in all three orifices. Sean had edited the action to eighteen minutes from what must have taken several hours to complete. According to Sean, a good director allows ninety percent of the video he shoots to wind up on the editing room floor.
Sean’s crew was given to violence. Act One ended with Maryanne lying there covered in piss and semen. A facial close up revealed both eyes swollen shut, nose smashed to one side, and missing front teeth. It was the signature Winter Hill beating for a female. They had a different approach for males that included putting the guy’s testicles in a vise and very slowly crushing them. At least, what Megan and Austin did was quick.
Act Two opened with Maryanne hung from the ceiling by her wrists and ankles in a reverse suspension, back to the ceiling and belly to the floor. I’ve been suspended that way once when I got drunk at the Ramrod and allowed a pair of CBT freaks to attach forty pounds of weights to my balls and jerk me off. It hurts like hell but I shot a load I would never forget. You feel like your shoulder and hip joints are being dislocated. Maryanne’s breasts hung straight down. She appeared to be unconscious. What’s more she was bald.
“You shaved her head,” I commented slowly stroking Sean’s cock.
“It’s traditional,” said Sean. “I shaved your two, nothing uglier than a bald woman and it is psychologically devastating to females. You’ll see in a minute.”
It struck me as going beyond my instructions but since I hadn’t specifically forbade it, I let it pass. Megan and Austin could afford a wig until their hair grew back.
“Wake up, Maryanne,” said one of Sean’s crew rolling in a table containing two large beakers of cooking oil sitting on Bunsen burners, the kind I remembered from chemistry class.
“What kind of oil do you use,” I asked. I was being sociable by showing an interest in his work.
“Only fancy grade extra virgin olive oil from Spain, it’s first pressing from the best of the olive crop,” said Sean who paid attention to details.
I suppose torturers have their quirks. I doubted whether Maryanne cared whether it was a gourmet oil or 10W-30. When Maryanne didn’t respond, he walked over to a sink, filled it with cold water then threw it in her face. She woke up sputtering and moaning then passed out again.
“Wake up, bitch,” screamed the Mick taking a cattle prod off the table. The sadist placed it on her swollen sex bridging the labia and pushed the trigger. Maryanne woke with a full throated scream. He repeated the act to make sure she was fully awake then shocked her nipples. He seemed to get a big kick out of watching her flop around mid air.
The Mick moved the table under Maryanne managing to position each boob in a beaker without spilling a drop. He lit the burners and adjusted the flame.
“I can always count on Tommy,” said Sean. “He’s the most reliable of my crew.”
Tommy took a seat in a near by chair and pulled out a copy of The American Racing Forum. He studied the paper making occasional markings as he chose his nag for the afternoon’s races at Suffolk Downs. Apparently, he was not only a torturer but a handicapper.
Sean’s camera focused on Maryanne’s face as she came to realize the liquid her knockers were immersed in was becoming warmer.
“I never get tired of watching this,” said Sean as we stroked his cock to hardness.
“How long does it take to boil a tit,” I asked?
“Fifteen minutes on medium heat,” said Sean sharing his closely held knowledge of torture methods developed by the IRA during the time of troubles. “But I edited the video down to six minutes.”
“How come they don’t pass out,” I asked noting that Maryanne was going nuts with the pain.
“Don’t know but they never do. Must have something to do with the way the nerves work,” said Sean his hand now a blur.
“Jesus, they look like overripe strawberries,” I said as Tommy moved the table from under Maryanne and turned off the flame. She was still screaming like a banshee.
“More like raspberries, the entire epidermis comes right off after ten minutes,” said Sean.
Sensing he was about to blow his load, I gingery leaned over and took his cock in my mouth. He spewed as the camera provided a close up of how breasts looked without their skin. They were blood red with bright blue veins. Nipple and areola were missing.
“So you showed this to Megan and Austin,” I asked wiping my chin.
“Yes, and told them they would get the same if they had any additional copies of your video or gave you any further trouble,”
“So what do you boil if it’s a male,” I asked.
“Cock and balls, that was standard in the old sod for an informer,” said Sean.
“God that must have hurt,” I said recalling an old Japanese Yakusa film where they stuck a guy’s package in a pot of boiling oil. The Japs scare me.
“I haven’t finished the final edit so this is a little rough,” said Sean jumping off the bed to insert a new DVD in the player.
It opened with a shot out a car window in front of Megan and Austin’s condo building. It was semi dark but as the girl’s emerged from Megan’s two seat Mercedes, a white van pulled up and out jumped Sean’s crew. Blue lights crackled in the darkness as tasers disabled the girls. In five seconds total, they were tossed in the van and it roared off. One of the guys followed in the Mercedes. No doubt he was headed to a chop shop the gang operates of Central Square in Somerville.
The screen cut to the arrival of the van in Sean’s warehouse. Two naked females tumbled out onto the concrete floor. Their hands were secured behind their backs with plastic cable ties, the same ones used by Boston PD when mass arrests were in order and regular cuffs were insufficient in number. Both girls’ knockers were sporting decorations I thought I recognized.
“Are those Kelly Forceps,” I asked referring to the scissor like objects flopping around their tits?
“Yes, that’s standard for a punishment rape. First used to gang rape any Irish colleen caught sleeping with a British Tommy,” said Sean who knew something of the history of his profession.
I’d seen girls go nuts when a guy captures a good solid inch of tit flesh in the business end of the forceps and clamps it in place. The pain is indescribable as the cold steel crushes the capillaries. In hospitals, a Kelley Forceps or Clamp is used on patients under general anesthesia undergoing surgery. That doesn’t hurt, but use a pair on a fully awake girl then twist and pull them while your cock is inside her pussy or ass and you have yourself a first class rape the Marquis de Sade would appreciate.
“I’ve seen it used before. A medical student I knew put them on his girl friend after he caught her in bed with his best friend. He arranged for six of us to gang rape her. She didn’t have a good time,” I said.
Served the bitch right,” said Sean. “My guys stripped and clamped them on the ride. They got caught in traffic so they raped them twice to save time.”
“Your guys couldn’t wait,” I said wishing the video included the initial rape.
“No, they’re an impatient lot. They get the rape started if it’s a long drive and they’re horny,” said Sean.
On screen it was bastinado time. A rubber hose hurts like all hell but does not leave marks, at least not serious ones. Sean’s crew was professional and well trained. Two guys wishboned Austin upside down while a third bruiser went to work on her pussy and asshole with three feet of rubber hose. Both girls had their clitoral hood removed by a plastic surgeon so the little man in the boat had zero protection. They made Megan watch so she knew what she had coming.
Each loud whap was followed by an ear piercing shriek. For good measure, they applied the hose to armpits, knee pits, and soles of feet. The bruiser was a big, well muscled man and he put his shoulder into it. Megan became hysterical watching them work on her friend.
Megan proved she could scream louder than Austin during her beating.
“Cyrus loved to beat a girl more than fuck her,” said Sean watching a close up of the hose flattening Megan’s clit.
“I’d say it will be a while before she enjoys a fuck,” I said. Megan’s clit looked pulverized.
“There’s a loss of sensation that takes months to get over if ever. Sometimes the nerve endings are so traumatized they never recover,” said Sean. “In Belfast, they used to fix a girl caught sleeping with the Brits so she could never enjoy sex.”
“How did they do that,” I asked?
“Cut her clit off and made her eat it,” said Sean once more stroking his cock.
“Let me suck it while we watch,” I said carefully leaning over to take him in my mouth.
On screen, a good two dozen men had gathered and the gang rape commenced. They worked the forceps back and forth to make sure it was anything but enjoyable.
“Those two sluts would probably enjoy their rape if you weren’t torturing them at the same time,” I said watching a close up of a large cock slamming into Austin’s bleeding asshole.
“That’s just for starters of course, something to soften them up,” said Sean.
I felt my cock stir as I watched a dozen young men brutally gang rape Megan and Austin. When the men finally ran out of jism, they made the girls kneel with their mouths open for a piss session.
“Give me a little squirt, Sean,” I requested as I took his cock head into my gullet. He obliged me with a short burst of power yellow that trickled down my throat.
After the rape, the girls were strapped into chair and made to watch Maryanne Baumgartner having the skin boiled off the tits. The scene faded to black as Megan and Austin promised to provide all the video of my indiscretion.
Sean triggered the remote to pause the DVD as I got serious about sucking his cock. It wasn’t long before I enjoyed a second mouthful of warm semen, further proof I was on the mend.
Sean went and got us a beer after I sucked him off. I had a question when he returned. “Were there any problems in forcing them to return these,” I asked pointing to the three DVDs on my bed table?
“None, I followed my Uncle Angus’ playbook and sealed an M-32 grenade and remote igniter in their vaginas. To make it real I showed her a video of a Unionist bitch running down the street screaming toward a squad of Tommys. Right as she reaches them, the IRA corporal presses the remote exploding her cunt. Somehow they got a shot of her lying on the pavement with her pussy blown out,” said Sean.
“A picture is worth a thousand words,” I said.
“They yelped quite a bit when I sealed up their hole with surgical staples to keep everything in place,” said Sean.
“That must have hurt,” I said.
“Yes, but it convinces the cunt there’s no way she can get the booger out of her snatch before I trigger the remote. They were good as gold on the trip to the banks to retrieve your DVDs from their safety deposit boxes,” said Sean.
“Sounds very effective,” I said.
“Never had a problem, of course if it’s a guy, we staple the grenade to the base of his balls,” said Sean restarting the video to show me the retribution phase.
“I got to hand it to you, Sean. So far this has been very impressive.” The scene had changed. The girls were strapped into a gynecological exam tables. I recognized it because we had one in my frat house in college. One of the tests for being the frat’s little sister was to allow all the frat brothers to perform a pelvic.
“Got those for practically nothing at an auction of obsolete medical equipment, they come in handy since it puts the gal’s bits right out there,” said Sean.
Their legs were spread wide and strapped into the stirrups. Their arms were restrained to the side of the table and there was a metal contraption between their teeth that held their mouth open and prevented speech. They could however babble and whimper which added to the eroticism of the performance.
“Excellent idea,” I said. I’d always understood that torturers for the most part adapts the tools of others.
“Any chance you could handle some oral. I’d feeling a bit randy,” said Sean eyeing my cock which had grown since we started watching.
“We could give it a try but be very careful of my balls, I said.
“Your whang is gorgeous,” said Sean leaning over to give my cock head a lick.
“Who’s that,” I asked as an attractive red head arrived on scene?
“That’s my cousin Cathleen. She has her own salon in Davis Square,” said Sean who was doing an excellent job of bringing the dead back to life.
“Pretty girl,” I said relaxing somewhat after days of worrying if I would ever fuck again.
“I’d set you up with her but she’s strictly into girls. Which is odd because when she was a little kid Uncle Pat fucked her every night after he read her a story? My cousins tapped her after school and bragged about how much she loved to fuck. You would have thought she would grown up to be a cock lover but she strictly munches rug.”
“Nature often surprises us,” I said watching Colleen cut off their hair with an electric shear. Behind the sound of the shears, you could hear Colleen humming some Celtic ballad. Megan and Austin appeared very distraught. Once again, Sean collapsed the time and the final frames showed Colleen passing a razor over the bare scalp of both girls.
After she wiped off the excess lather, she applied some sort of ointment to their bald pate. Colleen gave their bare skulls a loving kiss then held a mirror to each girl’s face so they could admire their new do.
“Shave a girl’s head and tears flow like water,” said Sean as the screen provided a close up of the bald sobbing women. Mindful of what the bitches did to my testicles, I didn’t feel any pity.
“What’s next,” I asked watching Colleen leave and the dependable Tommy appear on scene rolling a molded plastic luggage.
“Since you specified nothing permanent, we had limited options. Normally, I would have cut their ears and nipples off and branded them in a couple of strategic places,” said Sean between attempts to force my cock head into his throat.
From somewhere I recalled seeing a formerly attractive female in the ER missing her ears and nipples with, “Erin Go Bragh,” branded across her chest.
“You stretched their holes,” I said as Tommy inserted a lubricated inflatable dildo in Megan’s vagina and pumped it up to the max causing her to protest loudly in spite of the gag. Unmindful of Megan’s objections, Tommy inserted an inflatable butt plug in her anus. When he finished inflating the plug, he did the same to Austin.
“It can be difficult in film to depict the passage of time,” said Sean drawing my attention to the digital clock in the corner of the screen. It started at noon then moved rapidly to six o’clock when Tommy once again appeared with his rolling box. One assumed six hours had passed and the walls of their orifices were permanently changed.
Tommy replaced the vaginal and anal inflatables with larger ones then left. Six more hours passed in thirty seconds and Tommy returned. At this point, it is becoming obvious that their orifices are stretched possibly beyond the point of return.
For the final round, the plugs had the diameter of a bowling ball.
“No more fucking for those two for quite a while, maybe never,” said Sean gently licking my balls.
On screen, Tommy had removed the fourth and final set of stretchers. He demonstrated the effect by easily inserting both fists in Austin’s cunt and asshole.
“Ready to take my load, Sean,” I asked as the credits rolled?
“Give it to me,” said Sean wrapping his lips around my cock head and going deep.
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