Susan Strict
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School for Torture is a BDSM novel by John Savage, published by Strict Publishing International
The extract below is from the first chapter. I’ll post more, if anyone likes it – it’s NOT the usual Femdom stuff!
All the characters are, of course, over the age of 18.
Sunlight awoke Angel. She took a deep breath and went to stretch. It was then that she realized she could not move her arms. Her eyes popped open.
She was not in the same room. This one was much smaller. Gone were the fine windows with the lace draperies, replaced by a single high window set into the bare stone of the wall. It was through that narrow slit a single beam of bright sun light had come to illuminate her face. All the walls were of stone, looking ancient and harsh. There was a door, of wood and open at that moment, although all she could see through it was a corridor made of the same stone as her walls. The only furniture was the bed she lay upon, and that was both a far cry from the comfortable bed she had gone to sleep upon the night before, and from most normal beds.
With growing concern, she tugged at her arms only to discover that they were held solidly above her head. She looked up to see her bare arms disappear into holes cut in wood. Across the top of the bed were two lengths of solid wood with small half circles cut so as to form two holes just the size of her wrists. She tugged hard and was rewarded with pain as the edge of the wood cut into her wrists, and the slight rattle of a large padlock set into the hasp at one end of the two boards.
“I don’t believe it!” she said out loud. “A stock! A god damned, mother-humping wooden stock.”
Angel tried to turn to see it better, only to discover that her legs would not move either. Lifting her head and looking down, she saw that her ankles were similarly locked in a tight wooden embrace. But more importantly, she also saw that she was naked!
Her lovely breasts rose and fell with each aggravated breath, and she knew that her pubic patch was also uncovered. The bottom stocks held her feet about a foot apart, which allowed her to almost close her thighs but not quite. She tugged at her feet but the wood was quite solid.
It was then that she noted the bedding under her was not quite what one would expect. The frame of the bed was wood, thick boards and quite solid, but the part she lay on was wire mesh. The wire was thick gauge and the diamond pattern with each hole only an inch or so across so that she was supported by the wires with her flesh pushing into the diamonds.
Angel’s mind was in turmoil. The only possible explanation that came was a prank, a joke or initiation played upon her by the other students. Somehow they had snuck into her room, carried her down to the basement and attached her to this strange bed. Maybe they were just around the corner, waiting to laugh themselves silly when she began screaming for help.
But even as she tried to make that theory work, she knew it was wrong. Older girls at a school might play tricks on a new girl, but she had never seen or heard of one so elaborate. And how had they gotten her out of her bed and room with awakening her?
Then she remembered the hazy dream of a man’s voice and a woman with a black cowl. That must have been real. And the terrible smell and taste in her mouth. But what did it mean?
As she debated with herself calling out, a girl walked passed the door. “Hey,” called Angel automatically. The girl returned and entered the room.
She was a little younger than Angel, perhaps a year. Angel tried to take in a series of strange features all at once. First, the girl was wearing a strange bathing suit, a bikini, or that was what it looked like. As she approached the bed, Angel could see that it was made of black leather. It showed most of the girl’s rather nice figure, but seemed to Angel to be a couple of sizes too small. The leather pressed very tightly into the girl’s flesh, and was so tight across the bottom of the bra part that it seemed to be trying to squash her breasts. They looked as if they were going to pop out of the top of the leather covering.
Then there was the pair of handcuffs the girl wore on her wrists. The steel shone in the sunlight, and the cuffs had been tightened down until almost nothing showed between the metal bands and the tender flesh of the young woman.
After that, she noticed that the girl had lovely, wavy blonde hair and a pleasant smile.
“So you’re awake,” she said in perfectly good English, tinged by only the slightest French accent. “You needn’t try to get your hands out; you won’t be able to.”
Angel only then realized that she was still tugging and trying to work her wrists out of the wood. The girl was right, the wood was far too snug against her skin and far stronger than she.
“My name is Natalie. What’s yours?”
“Angel. Angel Martin.” She was unable to keep her eyes off the handcuffs the other girl wore with seeming nonchalance, as if she were unaware of their restriction of her hands.
“Glad to meet you,” said Natalie.
“Glad to meet you,” replied Angel without thinking. “And what the hell is going on here?! Did you lock me in this bed thing?”
Natalie laughed sweetly. “Of course not. We’re prisoners here, just like you.” She frowned at Angel’s puzzled look. And the fear that was coming over the girl’s face.
Just then a third girl entered the door. “Hi,” she offered. “I see you’re awake now. I’m Colleen.”
The newcomer looked like a Colleen. She was tall, filled out that leather bathing suit costume much better than Natalie, and had long, rich red hair to match her emerald green eyes. Her nose had a slight up turn and her eyes twinkled.
She also had her wrists locked before her in shining steel handcuffs.
“Would you two get me out of this thing?” asked Angel, trying to keep her voice calm.
“Oh, we can’t do that,” said Natalie immediately with some alarm. “We would be punished terribly if we did that.”
“Then can you at least tell me what is happening?”
“Why don’t you, Colleen,” suggested Natalie, “you’ve been here longer than I have.”
Colleen sat on the wooden edge of the bed as if settling down for a long story. “We’re all prisoners here at Saint Horrible’s.”
“What?”
“That’s what we call the place. Actually the name is Saint Hortense’s. A long, long time ago this place was a monastery. Then it was empty, and then a group of nuns took it over and named it Saint Hortense’s. We just call it Saint Horrible’s because that fits much better.”
“Nuns?” Angel was confused.
Colleen sighed. “This place is run by a strange order of nuns. You’ll meet the sisters soon enough. Just remember to be meek and don’t give them any trouble. They have ways of making you very sorry you even thought of sinning. That’s what they call any infraction of their rules: sinning. And we’re always getting punished for our sins. See?” She stood and turned her back. Upon the flesh now covered by the tiny hip-hugging leather were scores of fading dark marks.
“What are those?” asked Angel, afraid of the answer.
“Whipmarks,” said Colleen casually.
“You can’t mean that! No way!”
“I do mean it. You’ll find out soon enough.” Colleen sat back down. “Those are about a week old. I got them for being late to a class. About one minute late, actually.”
Angel shook her head. This was becoming a nightmare and she wished she would wake up from it. “I’m supposed to be at the Monitarie Academy for Girls.”
“We all were. Originally,” said Natalie. “But we were brought here. In the middle of the night and all tied up.”
This was getting harder to believe. “I’ve heard that Catholic schools were tough,” Angel said, “but whippings?”
Colleen leaned close after looking around to make sure that they were alone. “Listen,” she whispered. “I don’t think that these women are real nuns. They couldn’t be. But don’t let on that you know. They keep a very big pretence of holy righteousness, and you’ll find yourself in plenty of hot water if you challenge that.”
Colleen turned to Natalie. “Would you watch the hall?” The younger girl immediately went to stand by the door where she could see both ways down the corridor. Colleen returned to the naked girl on the bed.
“I’ll bet there is someone who would like to see you out of the way, right?”
“Well...” Angel suddenly had sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Yes.”
“Thought so. Every girl here had parents or guardians or someone who would benefit if she were to disappear and never show up again. So the girl is enrolled in the Monitarie Academy. Then she has an accident. A car accident, a boating accident, even a plane crash. Of course, the girl doesn’t really get killed. She becomes officially dead but really she’s brought here. Who was it that wanted you out of the way?”
“My stepfather,” said Angel quietly. She knew that her mother was not part of this crime, but that made little difference. “He found out that I get all the money when I turn twenty. Three lousy months away.”
“That’s it,” said Colleen brightly. “They pay the Academy enough money and you disappear. The courts will turn your money over to your grieving parents, or parent and stepparent here, and you’re officially dead. They’ve even got their own crooked doctor to sign the papers.”
“But... But that means...” muttered Angel, not quite able to form words for the thought.
“That’s right, Angel Martin, they will have to hold you a prisoner the rest of your life. Just like the rest of the girls here.”
The extract below is from the first chapter. I’ll post more, if anyone likes it – it’s NOT the usual Femdom stuff!
All the characters are, of course, over the age of 18.
Sunlight awoke Angel. She took a deep breath and went to stretch. It was then that she realized she could not move her arms. Her eyes popped open.
She was not in the same room. This one was much smaller. Gone were the fine windows with the lace draperies, replaced by a single high window set into the bare stone of the wall. It was through that narrow slit a single beam of bright sun light had come to illuminate her face. All the walls were of stone, looking ancient and harsh. There was a door, of wood and open at that moment, although all she could see through it was a corridor made of the same stone as her walls. The only furniture was the bed she lay upon, and that was both a far cry from the comfortable bed she had gone to sleep upon the night before, and from most normal beds.
With growing concern, she tugged at her arms only to discover that they were held solidly above her head. She looked up to see her bare arms disappear into holes cut in wood. Across the top of the bed were two lengths of solid wood with small half circles cut so as to form two holes just the size of her wrists. She tugged hard and was rewarded with pain as the edge of the wood cut into her wrists, and the slight rattle of a large padlock set into the hasp at one end of the two boards.
“I don’t believe it!” she said out loud. “A stock! A god damned, mother-humping wooden stock.”
Angel tried to turn to see it better, only to discover that her legs would not move either. Lifting her head and looking down, she saw that her ankles were similarly locked in a tight wooden embrace. But more importantly, she also saw that she was naked!
Her lovely breasts rose and fell with each aggravated breath, and she knew that her pubic patch was also uncovered. The bottom stocks held her feet about a foot apart, which allowed her to almost close her thighs but not quite. She tugged at her feet but the wood was quite solid.
It was then that she noted the bedding under her was not quite what one would expect. The frame of the bed was wood, thick boards and quite solid, but the part she lay on was wire mesh. The wire was thick gauge and the diamond pattern with each hole only an inch or so across so that she was supported by the wires with her flesh pushing into the diamonds.
Angel’s mind was in turmoil. The only possible explanation that came was a prank, a joke or initiation played upon her by the other students. Somehow they had snuck into her room, carried her down to the basement and attached her to this strange bed. Maybe they were just around the corner, waiting to laugh themselves silly when she began screaming for help.
But even as she tried to make that theory work, she knew it was wrong. Older girls at a school might play tricks on a new girl, but she had never seen or heard of one so elaborate. And how had they gotten her out of her bed and room with awakening her?
Then she remembered the hazy dream of a man’s voice and a woman with a black cowl. That must have been real. And the terrible smell and taste in her mouth. But what did it mean?
As she debated with herself calling out, a girl walked passed the door. “Hey,” called Angel automatically. The girl returned and entered the room.
She was a little younger than Angel, perhaps a year. Angel tried to take in a series of strange features all at once. First, the girl was wearing a strange bathing suit, a bikini, or that was what it looked like. As she approached the bed, Angel could see that it was made of black leather. It showed most of the girl’s rather nice figure, but seemed to Angel to be a couple of sizes too small. The leather pressed very tightly into the girl’s flesh, and was so tight across the bottom of the bra part that it seemed to be trying to squash her breasts. They looked as if they were going to pop out of the top of the leather covering.
Then there was the pair of handcuffs the girl wore on her wrists. The steel shone in the sunlight, and the cuffs had been tightened down until almost nothing showed between the metal bands and the tender flesh of the young woman.
After that, she noticed that the girl had lovely, wavy blonde hair and a pleasant smile.
“So you’re awake,” she said in perfectly good English, tinged by only the slightest French accent. “You needn’t try to get your hands out; you won’t be able to.”
Angel only then realized that she was still tugging and trying to work her wrists out of the wood. The girl was right, the wood was far too snug against her skin and far stronger than she.
“My name is Natalie. What’s yours?”
“Angel. Angel Martin.” She was unable to keep her eyes off the handcuffs the other girl wore with seeming nonchalance, as if she were unaware of their restriction of her hands.
“Glad to meet you,” said Natalie.
“Glad to meet you,” replied Angel without thinking. “And what the hell is going on here?! Did you lock me in this bed thing?”
Natalie laughed sweetly. “Of course not. We’re prisoners here, just like you.” She frowned at Angel’s puzzled look. And the fear that was coming over the girl’s face.
Just then a third girl entered the door. “Hi,” she offered. “I see you’re awake now. I’m Colleen.”
The newcomer looked like a Colleen. She was tall, filled out that leather bathing suit costume much better than Natalie, and had long, rich red hair to match her emerald green eyes. Her nose had a slight up turn and her eyes twinkled.
She also had her wrists locked before her in shining steel handcuffs.
“Would you two get me out of this thing?” asked Angel, trying to keep her voice calm.
“Oh, we can’t do that,” said Natalie immediately with some alarm. “We would be punished terribly if we did that.”
“Then can you at least tell me what is happening?”
“Why don’t you, Colleen,” suggested Natalie, “you’ve been here longer than I have.”
Colleen sat on the wooden edge of the bed as if settling down for a long story. “We’re all prisoners here at Saint Horrible’s.”
“What?”
“That’s what we call the place. Actually the name is Saint Hortense’s. A long, long time ago this place was a monastery. Then it was empty, and then a group of nuns took it over and named it Saint Hortense’s. We just call it Saint Horrible’s because that fits much better.”
“Nuns?” Angel was confused.
Colleen sighed. “This place is run by a strange order of nuns. You’ll meet the sisters soon enough. Just remember to be meek and don’t give them any trouble. They have ways of making you very sorry you even thought of sinning. That’s what they call any infraction of their rules: sinning. And we’re always getting punished for our sins. See?” She stood and turned her back. Upon the flesh now covered by the tiny hip-hugging leather were scores of fading dark marks.
“What are those?” asked Angel, afraid of the answer.
“Whipmarks,” said Colleen casually.
“You can’t mean that! No way!”
“I do mean it. You’ll find out soon enough.” Colleen sat back down. “Those are about a week old. I got them for being late to a class. About one minute late, actually.”
Angel shook her head. This was becoming a nightmare and she wished she would wake up from it. “I’m supposed to be at the Monitarie Academy for Girls.”
“We all were. Originally,” said Natalie. “But we were brought here. In the middle of the night and all tied up.”
This was getting harder to believe. “I’ve heard that Catholic schools were tough,” Angel said, “but whippings?”
Colleen leaned close after looking around to make sure that they were alone. “Listen,” she whispered. “I don’t think that these women are real nuns. They couldn’t be. But don’t let on that you know. They keep a very big pretence of holy righteousness, and you’ll find yourself in plenty of hot water if you challenge that.”
Colleen turned to Natalie. “Would you watch the hall?” The younger girl immediately went to stand by the door where she could see both ways down the corridor. Colleen returned to the naked girl on the bed.
“I’ll bet there is someone who would like to see you out of the way, right?”
“Well...” Angel suddenly had sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Yes.”
“Thought so. Every girl here had parents or guardians or someone who would benefit if she were to disappear and never show up again. So the girl is enrolled in the Monitarie Academy. Then she has an accident. A car accident, a boating accident, even a plane crash. Of course, the girl doesn’t really get killed. She becomes officially dead but really she’s brought here. Who was it that wanted you out of the way?”
“My stepfather,” said Angel quietly. She knew that her mother was not part of this crime, but that made little difference. “He found out that I get all the money when I turn twenty. Three lousy months away.”
“That’s it,” said Colleen brightly. “They pay the Academy enough money and you disappear. The courts will turn your money over to your grieving parents, or parent and stepparent here, and you’re officially dead. They’ve even got their own crooked doctor to sign the papers.”
“But... But that means...” muttered Angel, not quite able to form words for the thought.
“That’s right, Angel Martin, they will have to hold you a prisoner the rest of your life. Just like the rest of the girls here.”
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