Melissa (Part 3)

Melissa was again on her knees between her father's legs. She had his soft penis in her right hand. His testicles now formed  a large mound, swollen to almost three times their normal size.

She had to disarm him. She wanted to break his club.

She grabbed the head of his penis with her right hand and wrapped her left palm on its shaft. She bent his penis, then straightened it out. She did this several times but she could see that she was not hurting it at all. It was too soft, almost malleable.

She let go of her father's penis and decided to change tactics. She grabbed the base his penis with the thumb and forefinger of each hand and squeezed hard attempting to cut its blood supply. She held his penis this way for about 5 minutes. His penis appeared to tolerate this assault, flopping around with her every effort.

She heard her father groan. He was starting to move. His arms attempted to grab his aching balls but were stopped short by the handcuffs. His hips started to buck up and down slightly.

In frustration, she grabbed her father's penis at its base, wrapping her palm around the shaft. The distal end of his penis rested on top of her thumb. She squeezed.

He inhaled deeply and held his breath. He stopped moving his arms but started to gyrate his hips.

She was puzzled by this. His penis now stood up in attention, poking from her grasp, and appeared to reach up. It also started to widen. She felt it lose its sponginess, replaced by a firm width.

She let go of his penis. On his shaft she could see where she left marks from where she grasped. His penis was now completely erect, even longer than the eight inches she saw earlier. It stood at a 45 degree angle with its head pointing northwards.

He exhaled with a grunt. His lifted his hips above the bed, his penis bobbing stiffly.

"It's looking for something, " she thought.

She realized that she can control and beat men not only through pain but also pleasure. She thought her next act vulgar, but decided to do it anyway. People do dirty jobs, she thought. This was her war against men and their weapons. She quickly and permanently lost the queasiness in her belly.

Meanwhile, Paul was in a half awake, half asleep state. His balls felt like heavy lead, tingling between pain and numbness. His mind was led to dreams of women pleasuring him with their mouths and hands. He tried to grab his manhood. His reach only extended to where his shackles allowed it.

Melissa knew his goal.

"The dog wishes to jerk off..." she whispered. In her head, he became an object, not her father.

She grabbed the head of his penis with fingertips of her right hand. She lightly squeezed it and started to knead it starting from the neck up to the tip.

This elicited a strong response from him. He started to breath more heavily. He relaxed his arms and let them rest where they lay. He appeared to enjoy this too much.

She rubbed his penis this way for about a minute then let it go.

He grunted in frustration and bucked his hips, fucking the air. His arms again pulled on their restraints.

She smiled in satisfaction."Animal..." she thought.

She grabbed his penis mid-shaft with one hand and started stroking it up and down. His penis felt heavy in her hand. She varied the pressure in her grip as she pumped his penis. She then stroked it faster.

"Yes!" he growled.

Melissa saw clear fluid ooze out from the opening of her father's penis. It ran the length of his shaft, down her grip, lubricating her every stroke.

She saw his body tense up. His buttocks stiffened, his thighs and legs stretched out, his feet pointed out, his arms hardened in mid flexion. He appeared to prepare himself for what he hoped would happen soon.

She let go of his penis and stood back.

He groaned as if in pain. His arms started to rattle the bed by his cuffs. He again pumped his hips up and down, lifting his buttocks and thighs completely of the bed, supported by his folded knees. His testicles bounced heavily.

Paul had mixture of anger and lust in his head. In his delirious state, he imagined his wife cowering over his figure. He blamed her for all his failures. He started to beat her towards the end of their marriage. He would regularly rape his wife especially after two bottles of liquor.

"Suck me, you bitch!" he ordered an imaginary whore. He spat. In his head, he saw his phlegm connect with his wife's face.

This startled Melissa.

She always suspected her father beating her mom. She frequently saw her sobbing, nursing a fat lip one day, a black eye the next.

She vaguely recollected hearing her mother's voice one night. She was pleading for someone to stop. She peeked into their bedroom and saw two figures in the dark. Although she couldn't see the assault, she saw her father's shadow on top of her mom's. He appeared to be slapping her as he pumped his lower body into hers. This lasted a few minutes when she heard her father's voice "Fuck...I'm close!"

The bed shook faster. She saw his shadow move faster like a piston. Within 30 seconds he let out a loud "URRR! URRR! URRR!"

She then saw the two forms disconnect. Her father's figure dropped on one side of the bed, her mom's appeared to hunch over to one side. She heard her father's fast and heavy breathing turn eventually to snores. Her mom sounded like a mewling cat.

This brought her to the present. Her memories justified her decision.

She grabbed her father's penis with her left hand. This instantly calmed his body. His penis jutted up from her grasp. It was veiny and purple. She started to stroke his shaft firmly. Pre-cum now drizzled from it's tip. His penis looked like an oily snake going in and out of a hole that is her left hand.

His balls appear to roll up towards his shaft. His scrotum was stretch by blue and purple edema. With her right hand she inspected her father's balls. She found the left one. It was still round and smooth. The right one was harder to find. As she was pushing her fingers deep into his sack, her father yelped in a mixture of pain and lust.

The right one felt different. It's once smooth texture was replaced by something with consistency of soft steak.

She knew she didn't complete her task.

"Fuck...I'm close!" her father groaned.

She changed her grip, wrapping her left hand around the head of her father's penis. She continued stroking this up and down. This gave her a target as the lower five inches of her father's shaft came in and out of her view.

She pumped his penis feverishly, holding it perpendicular to his body.

His whole body started to quake. She was ready.

He yelled "URR!" A geyser of white semen shot up between her grasp shooting up and landing on his chest.

In split second, she executed her move. With her left hand holding on to the head of her father's penis, keeping it pointed up, stabilizing it in this position, she whipped her right hand stiffened like a blade around and down towards her father's shaft.

The leading edge of her hand hit its target perfectly, mid-shaft of her father's eight inch cock.. She saw everything in slow motion. Her father's stiff penis bent 90 degrees from its straight line. She heard a soft crack.

She let go of his penis and noted his once straight shaft now flail around crooked in the middle. The club was broken.

Her father continued to spurt massive amounts of semen. It sprayed everywhere. Most landed on his belly but some found their way on her hands and arms.

There was a second delay to his reaction.

"What the fuck!" He screamed over and over. This time he was completely awake.

He started to panic when he realized he could not open his eyes. He was blindfolded. He strained against his bindings. His arms and  legs shook the bed violently. She heard the bedposts simultaneously creak from the pressure. A loud crack was then followed by his right leg kicking up hitting her chest.

She flew from the bed and landed on her bottom. She quickly got up and saw her father still fighting his bindings. His right leg was blindly kicking the air.

Paul thought he was abducted. He still couldn't see through his blindfold. He struggled for about 5 minutes then stopped because of fatigue.

Her pain angered her. Her father's strength angered her. She saw his naked form. His muscles looked even more powerful.

She then looked at his genitals. She formed an evil smile with what she saw. Her father's penis looked like an upside down "L." Dark bruising collected in the middle of his shaft where it was bent. His penis was still large, but now more from swelling than lust.

She softly whispered "Punisher."

She then got on the bed between his legs, jumped up, her knees landing on his thighs, pinning them down.

"Fuck you...get away from me!" Paul yelled.

She picked her father's penis up by the tip and pulled it up attempting to straighten it out. She wanted to inspect the damage closely. She grabbed his penis from its base and squeezed. Imagining a toothpaste tube, she milked his penis from the base. In the middle of his shaft where the fracture occurred, she saw a large bruise starting to form a ring around her father's penis. She continued to squeeze upwards. From her father's penis came semen mixed with blood.

He yelped in pain. "AWRRR! AWRRR! AWRRR!"

A dog needing to be neutered, she thought.

"Get off me, you bitch!" he again yelled.

She raised her right hand and made a fist. She repeatedly punched him in the balls, targeting the left.

He screamed with each contact.

His penis flailed around spraying blood and semen. Her gloved fists were now dripping in blood.

She stood up and looked down. She then lifted her leg and brought it down violently. She stomped down on his balls. She felt his balls flatten. She again did this, each time screaming "Yaaa!" her martial arts training becoming obvious.

The kicking became frenzied. She stomped down dozens of times. She connected with his thighs, belly, one time his right knee. But her targets, his balls and penis, received most of her anger. Her foot was now soaked in blood.

His protestations turned in soft barks. He made choking noises. He made one last guttural sound and vomited. His breaths then became labored as rattling noises came from his throat.

She only stopped kicking her father's genitals when she realized he stopped breathing.

She went down on her knees and did one final inspection. Her father's penis had an unnatural shape. It maintained its 8-inch length but was now bent into a sharp curve, like an upside down "U." She must have stomped down on it head on, fracturing it further. Blood and semen dripped from its opening. The shaft was now completely black.

His balls were mangled. It was covered with bright red blood. She gathered a part of the bedspread and wiped away the red from his balls. She broke skin!

She screamed in delight!

His scrotum was split almost in the middle exposing its contents. There was an orb hanging from the right side of his sack. She grabbed this and pulled it out...it was his right testicle! It was still connected to his body by strands of tissue. She tugged on it several times finally separating it from his body.

She set his right orb down on the bed and started to look for his left testicle. She grabbed on to his sack and started to squeeze. His left orb appeared in sight. She grabbed it and pulled, this time, the ball offered little resistance.

She inspected her new trophies. Her father's testicles were large like eggs, there was whitish film covering the balls almost all around except in areas where it split revealing mushy pulp inside.

She jumped out of the bed and fished something out her tool bag. In it was a pickling jar, She dropped both testicles in the jar and closed the lid.

She triumphantly walked to the camera, lifting up the jar in front of the lens, before stating, "Punisher number 1."

The only thing she regretted that day was she didn't collect her father's penis.
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The days after proved to be laborious. She was able to wrap her father's body in garbage bags and stuff it in the trunk of a junk car scheduled for the compactor.

She cleaned after herself well. This, she thought was part of the training.

Her family never gave it a second thought when she cried, telling them her father may have abandoned her.

They offered her support. They thought her father was a drunk bum. They thought she was better off.
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Over the next decades, Melissa was able to perfect her craft. She has more than 50 hours of footage documenting her war against men and their weapons. She has collected 17 pairs of balls, 13 penises, and 16 scrotal bags.

She also has found kindred spirits, like sisters, all rape victims, in a network, sharing information and names of prospects.

She occasionally will share a man with one or two women. They traded techniques, secrets, and shared experiences.

The news occasionally mentioned the names of the missing men. Only three bodies were found by the police. There was talk of a serial killer when they discovered each men had their genitals removed or crushed.

She never considered herself a serial killer. She was at war. She was an executioner.
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Her daughter Kendra will soon turn 13. She felt she was ready for the sisterhood. It was time to teach her about men. She intended to show her the videos she made. She also started to hunt down a man that would be her daughter's first specimen.