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While he’s distracted by us, Bree moves over to the hospital trays and begins uncovering them. Once we reach the side of the bed, Whitlock is almost frantic. “What the hell is going on here?”
Bree moves beside him to reply, but McKenna holds her hand out to stop her. With a shaky voice, she lets him know exactly what we plan to do.
“No matter who you pretend to be, the mask you show the rest of the world, we know the truth about who you really are. You are a sick, twisted pervert, and you are a danger to the public. Even though you have a preference for underaged girls, you have no problems harming or selling boys and women too. Idon’t think we even know the true number of people whose lives you have ruined, but we can take a guess.
“We know that you destroyed your own daughter’s childhood, and made her life a living hell. You were willing to have sex with Shayla, even though you thought she was underage. You bought and sold Teigan like she was nothing more than a piece of meat, and you helped your wife kidnap and assault me.
“You’ve ruined so many lives, and we don’t trust that if we let you go, you won’t be a danger to others. We can’t risk you going out and hurting another young girl, just to fill your own sick sexual fantasies. But as Bree said, we have to honour the promises we made, which is how you find yourself here,” McKenna explains, her voice getting stronger the more she speaks.
Her hand in mine tightens, and I give her a squeeze, letting her know she has my full support.
“What are you talking about? What are you going to do?!” Whitlock snaps, his frantic eyes flicking around the room.
This time, Bree steps forward with a twisted grin on her face. “Well, after some discussion, we’ve decided that the only way we will feel comfortable releasing you is if we know you won’t be a danger to anyone ever again.
“In case you didn’t already know, Belle here is training to be a doctor. She’s in her second to last year of medical school. McKenna is a qualified nurse, who worked in the accident and emergency department for a while before specialising in palliative care. And Teigan, well, she’s a forensic psychiatrist with a speciality in counselling, but she also did some nurse training as part of that degree,” Bree explains, but Whitlock looks just as confused as he did before.
“And…?” he asks, sounding frantic and sarcastic.
“And…it means they are all very well qualified to help me cut off your cock. We will do it professionally, so you will survive,but you won’t ever be a sexual threat to others again,” Bree explains, the smile on her face growing.
Whitlock begins screaming loudly, thrashing around. Bree can barely be heard when she continues talking over all his shouting.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have anyone in the family trained in anaesthetic, but Belle informs me you will pass out from the pain fairly quickly anyway, so I’m not too worried.”
How Bree manages to cut off his trousers while he’s trying to throw himself around is astounding. I guess the guys must have tied him down really tight.
Once he’s exposed in front of us, we all get to work, just like we spent all of yesterday afternoon practising.
I use the term practising loosely, as it’s not like we had a dummy penis to cut off, but we researched and studied the procedure together, allocating roles, so we all knew who would do what during the surgery.
We need to make sure he survives, and ideally, we’d like him to be able to piss normally afterwards, but if he ends up with a permanent catheter, none of us are all that bothered. We see it as an acceptable complication.
Belle and McKenna have been going over the specifics of the procedure for a few weeks now, making sure they could do it without killing him. It wasn’t until they were certain that Bree knew she could put the plan into action.
Although I had to do a few months of nurse training as part of my degree, it wasn’t anything like this. I’ve never seen so much blood. And I’ve never been more grateful that the screaming stopped when he finally passed out.
Belle had lopped of an entire ball before he eventually dropped unconscious, lasting a lot fucking longer than we thought he would.
Between the four of us, we work swiftly and efficiently, making sure we keep him alive while we butcher him. Belle does a great job, with the help of Bree, who enjoys using a scalpel much more than a girl like her should.
Belle doesn’t bother too much with precision when she’s suturing, stating she wants him to have scars, as a reminder of all the pain he’s caused.
When it’s finally over, I’m actually a little fucking relieved he’s not dead. Despite going over the plan extensively, I still wasn't convinced we could pull something like this off, and have him leave here alive at the end of it.
Bree has agreed to give him some painkillers for the next few days, and Belle will monitor his recovery, though he will still be confined to his cell.
She thinks he will be fully recovered enough to travel in two weeks, and so Bree is counting down to when we can finally get rid of him.
When he’s all stitched up, and we’re sure he’s stable, the man who brought him here earlier with Kian—I now know he’s a security guard called Ethan—wheels him back to his cell. The guys flood in from the other room, taking in our very bloody appearance.
They’re all wearing matching expressions on their faces, and it’s a mixture of awe and fear. Liam steps up to Bree and swipes a strand of red hair off her face and tucks it behind her ear.
“Fuck, Princess. That was hot,” he growls, before capturing her lips with his.
Bree chuckles into his mouth as she lifts her hand to his cheek, smearing blood across his face. “Take me home,” she mutters against him, and Liam does as he’s told.
He picks Bree up, her legs circling around his waist as he carries her out of the room, Kian holding the door open for them, chuckling as they pass.
