Repression 3: Revenge!
by John Savage
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 John Savage
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Prologue
“She’s fainted again.”
The Mother Superior was about to shove the electrical prod up against Dawn’s flank again when that news came. She cursed and ordered smelling salts or a bucket of cold water brought. She wanted this woman to talk, and fast. So far she had jerked around, screamed a lot and cursed vividly, but not answered any questions.
She looked down at the unconscious woman. Shame, she thought, to mark up such a lovely body. The prod left small burn marks everyplace it touched. Small marks that would heal but still an ugliness upon that beautiful body. The girl’s resistance surprised even the experienced Mother Superior. She held her tongue very well, save, of course, for the screams, curses and pleading.
A small vial of smelling salts, ammonia actually, was held under her nose. The head jerked back and the eyes flew open. Pure hatred shone out of them.
“I have shown you how much this prod can hurt you, have I not?” No reply, so she continued, looking down at the legs, flanks, and breasts covered with the small dark red spots, “I can continue all night. We have many fresh batteries for this.”
She jammed the prod into her breast again, catching her nipple between the prongs. Dawn screamed so nicely. There was sweat running down her face and body, and dark patches forming under her eyes. How much more could she take?
The Mother Superior rammed the prod against her stomach, watching as the muscles there jerked. Then she placed it a little lower. And lower again. “You see a pattern to this,” she asked. “Very soon I will be shoving this in a very, very sensitive place. One you will not like at all.”
Dawn looked up with weary eyes and said, “Fuck you.”
The prod was jammed into that very sensitive place and the scream was very loud.
Chapter I
Bishop Takes Queen
“How can we get Dawn out?” pleaded Jane. The slender former nun was teary-eyed as she looked around the room, from Matt to Tom and back. Although the girl was nineteen years old, she looked much younger and that apparent youth made her plea all the more heart-rending. She pushed aside a strand of her ebony hair and added, “We have to save her. We have to! I love her.”
“We all want to get Dawn out of there,” Matt said firmly. “But how? She managed to sneak into Saint Secundina’s using that nun’s uniform. We don’t have any uniform anymore.”
“We don’t even know where she’s being held,” added Tom. Beside him, Karen was holding on to his arm. She was an old friend of Dawn’s from their school days. Dawn had gone to Karen to enlist aid in finding the underground resistance movement. That had gotten Karen arrested and hauled off to Saint Secundina’s for questioning and a life of sexual slavery. Dawn had rescued her from that lifetime of torture and she was grateful.
“But we can find out,” Jane said. “We still have that tap into their computer network, don’t we?”
Matt and Tom looked at each other in surprise. “Sure we do,” agreed Matt. “Assuming they haven’t found it. They might have.”
“Only one way to find out,” Tom said, looking at the faces around him. “And the sooner, the better.”
It would have been easier had they still the use of the underground cave attached to the sewer system. But when Dawn was captured, they had to abandon that location for fear she had told about it. The Church has ways of making anyone tell all they knew.
Their new headquarters was in the basement of a brewery. The smell of hops and fermenting beer constantly filled the air, but the men did not seem to mind it. The owner was highly sympathetic to the resistance movement and allowed them not only to use his basement but also to take whatever sample of the product they wanted.
There was a connection from that basement into the network of tunnels under the city used to supply the electricity, water and other services to the downtown buildings. It was an easy matter for them to pack up a laptop and find the entrance from their building. It was necessary to persuade the door to unlock, but that was a minor problem for Tom, who enjoyed kicking down doors.
Once in the tunnel system, they used flashlights and an old set of maps that, while not up to date, should be good enough to guide them. It was confusing down there, and their compass did not work with all that metal around them, but they managed to find a passage that led to the vault where they had tapped into the Church’s network. The tap was still there, apparently not discovered by the Guards or the Church. Jane set to work plugging in their laptop.
Having not only been a nun herself, but the one in charge of the computer system for Saint Dorina’s in England, she was the logical one to conduct their attempt to find the location of Dawn. With a worried look on her youthful face, she typed her way through menu after menu until she found the arrest report.
“She was taken to Saint Secundina’s,” she told her companions. “Let me follow up if I can get into Saint Secundina’s data files.” More typing and worrying. “Here it is. What!? She was taken from Saint Secundina’s by Bishop Diana Crofton. But it doesn’t say where she was taken to!”
Jane looked around with panic on her face. “Bishop Crofton has a terrible reputation! They call her the Executioner. She’s famous for the vicious ways in which she executes sinners. She was the one who conceived of Saint Dorina’s and established it. Even my mother was afraid of her.”
Matt took her by the shoulders to steady her. “Where is the Bishop located?”
Jane took a couple quick breaths then said, “She lives at the top of the Church building. She turned it into a penthouse suite for herself. She and her staff also occupy the next three floors down from the top.”
“Well, at least we know where she is,” said Matt.
“But she’s going to be killed! I just know it!”
Matt shook Jane to try and prevent her going to pieces. Then he hugged her as she cried. Over her head he was looking from Tom to Karen. All of them seemed to be in shock.
“Let’s pack up for now and get back,” Matt told them. “Then we can see what we can come up with.”
Jane cried all the way back to the brewery basement.
* * * * *
Dawn could barely walk from both the pain between her legs and weakness. A nun on each arm held her up and nearly dragged her along the corridor of Saint Secundina’s. Her arms were joined behind her with handcuffs on both the wrists and above the elbows. Her naked body was covered with small burns that the Mother Superior of Saint Secundina’s, Helena, had inflicted with an electrical prod. She had replaced the batteries in the unit twice before she could no longer revive the naked woman when she fainted from pain and exhaustion. The session had lasted over three hours. By the end, Dawn had screamed herself hoarse and told everything she knew.
Mother Superior Helena wanted to continue but it was no fun shocking an unconscious woman. Usually a very mean woman, she was, this time, exceeding all prior limits on cruelty. The reason for her anger was the discovery that not only had Dawn been part of the team that invaded and stole what had to be valuable documents, but she was also the only sinner ever to escape from Saint Secundina’s, a fact that the Mother Superior could never forgive her for.
She had extracted the names of those on that team, the location of their headquarters, and the fact that the encrypted papers stolen were important because they told of a weapon that might be used against the Church and the One World government. But, fortunately for the resistance, and unfortunately for her, she did not know what that weapon was nor anything else the documents said.
The Mother Superior had been formulating plans for a particularly nasty death for this rebel sinner, something that would serve as a wonderfully effective and highly visual lesson to the other sinners imprisoned in her abbey. But an order came down from the Bishop herself. Dawn was to be transferred to the Bishop’s headquarters immediately and no further harm was to be done to her. Mother Superior Helena screamed her vindictive curses at the walls but, in the end, had to obey. She gave curt orders for Dawn to be taken down to the transportation department and shipped out. Then she went to whip some innocent sinners to vent her frustration.
The transportation department was the only part of Saint Secundina’s that was run by male guards. Since the behind-the-scenes take over of all levels of power by females, males served only in menial positions or as figureheads within the Church.
The orders were handed over to the sergeant on duty. He sighed and looked over the paperwork. “High priority, high security transport to Church Headquarters. Shit!” He was not happy. High security took extra time and his shift was about to end. He would have left the job to the next shift but the priority forbade that. He sighed again, and glared at the naked female. Damned nice body, he noted, too bad she’s got those burns all over her. And too bad for that damned priority. Without it, he would have had time to maybe sneak in a quick screwing. They were not supposed to do that, but what the nuns don’t know will not hurt them, the Guards usually figured.
He called his assistant back from the lounge, cursed him a bit and then told him to get the ropes and a high security crate.
It was obvious that this sinner was in no condition to give him problems, so he simply unlocked her handcuffs and sat her on a preparation table. She leaned over onto her side. The assistant came pushing a cart with a metal box on it and another smaller box containing the restraints they would need.
First were the mittens. These were leather bags that fitted around a clenched feminine fist. Each one laced up, and also had a thin strap that went around the wrist and was locked in place. When those were on her, she was stood up and while one held her, the other began binding her arms. It was the usual elbows tightly together, wrists also bound, and an extra binding just below the elbows, all applied quite tightly. They knew they had to do a good job. Their work was going to be seen by someone at the Church Headquarters and had better be of the highest quality.
More ropes were wrapped around her arms and body in three places: at the level of the wrists, just below and just above the breasts. Those ropes were pulled quite firmly, the individual strands cutting into her flesh deeply. She was then put back up on the table and her legs bound, also in three places. The usual ankles, of course, but also just above and below the knees.
The lid of the metal box was lifted to gain access to the inside that was hardly large enough to hold woman even if she were scrunched up into a ball. They lifted Dawn and set her down in the box on her knees. Then they pushed down to get her bottom down by her heels. The top part of her body was then pushed over so she bent at the waist and her face was near her knees. The whole procedure took considerable effort on the men’s part.
“I think we made the ropes a little too tight around her knees,” the sergeant said. “You know that when the legs are doubled up, the part around the knees expands. Maybe we should take her out and retie them.”
“No way,” said the assistant with one eye on the clock. “We just need to push her down harder.”
He followed his words with action, and between the two of them, they managed to force the naked woman into the box. The lid did not want to close, but they managed to force that also, simply by one of them sitting on it. The lid was locked in two places with big padlocks.
“You know,” began the sergeant, “there are times I don’t understand these nuns. I mean, why go to all this trouble just to haul this dame a couple miles? Why can’t they simply lock some handcuffs on her and shove her in the back seat of a Guard car. But no, we have to go to all this extra effort. And heaven help us if we don’t do it right. Just don’t make sense.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the other Guard said, “I think it’s kinda fun.” He was grinning as he said it. He had also been grabbing a handful of naked flesh here and there were he could.
“Ahhhh, you’re just as perverted as these damned nuns,” his partner growled.
Just then two more guards walked in.
“We did all the dirty work,” one sergeant said to one of them. “You just have to call for a van and get rid of her.”
“This one a good looker?” asked one of the new men.
“Nah!” he was told by the sergeant. “She’s got small tits and a fat ass.”
“Glad you got her into the box for us then,” was the reply.
The first two men went away, the sergeant winking to the other.
The orders were examined, then placed in a plastic folder attached to the side of the metal crate. A valve was turned at one corner. Inside a small tank of oxygen fed a trickle of life-giving gas to the unconscious woman. A van was then called for and Dawn left Saint Secundina’s for the last time.
Chapter II
The Lair of the Executioner
A suddenly shock and bright light intruded upon the darkness, dragging Dawn back from the blessed relief of unconsciousness into the real world of pain and suffering. With a moan she opened her eyes but could not see anything beyond a bright white haze.
A second shock jolted her head and evoked a cry of pain as a nun’s hand slapped her hard on the face. “Wake up, bitch! You’ve slept long enough.”
Dawn was groggy as her mind began to form thoughts once again. Along with the ability to think came the memories; memories of hours of unendurable pain that left her body exhausted and burning all over. Dawn’s eyes opened expecting to see that evil Mother Superior and her electrical prod. There was a nun before her but this one was different and held no prod. A hand slapped her face again, but this time only a mild slap that stung but did not rock her head back as the others had.
“Come on, bitch, stand up!” came an order after the slap.
Dawn was more awake now, and beginning to become aware of her circumstances. The last she remembered she was bound to a chair totally unable to move while that Mother Superior poked her with the electrical prod and asked questions. Dawn vaguely remembered finally telling all she knew because the prolonged agony was more than any woman could take. She also remembered that the pain continued even after she had spat out everything she knew about the resistance. She could feel that her arms were still bound tightly, but she was not in a chair, rather lying on some kind of metal table. Her legs were being pulled around by hands and her body rotated until she was in a sitting position. It was then she noted that her legs were not bound in any way, although her arms were tightly bound behind her with the elbows together as they normally were, and many ropes binding her arms to her body. She tried to flex her fingers only to find that she could not unclench her fist. Something encased her hands and prevented her fingers from moving. She had no idea what that might be.
“Stand, bitch, or we’ll see if you like the taste of the whip.”
Weakly she slid off the table and almost fell because her legs were too weak to hold her up. Again those hands held her leaning against the table while strength slowly came back to her legs. She looked over to see another nun standing there with one hand on her bound elbows and the other on her hip. This nun was dressed in the usual nun’s uniform of a black leather catsuit, very tightly hugging her curves, high heeled boots that laced up the front and went all the way up to just below the knees. The catsuit showed very little skin but still made the woman look more sexy than if she were totally naked.
“Can she walk yet?” asked the nun who liked to slap and call sinners “bitch.”
The one asking questions was dressed differently. There was the usual black leather but this time the front had an oval shaped opening that framed her big breasts. There was no bra, but nuns never wore one anyway. Besides it appeared that the tight leather of the catsuit provided support enough. The breasts protruded straight out, pointing at Dawn like twin cannons.
“She’ll be able to in a minute,” the other nun replied. “You can see that she really had a rough time over at Saint Secundian’s.”
The first nun grunted but said nothing more. Dawn looked to the woman who had shown her the only kindness any nun ever had. She was a young woman, maybe twenty-three or four. Her features were vaguely oriental, with just the slightest slant to her eyes and shading of her smooth skin. Her hair was jet black and done up in the usual ponytail.
Looking back at the first nun, Dawn could see beyond the two huge bare breasts to a face looking as if the owner had been a prizefighter. The nose was bent a bit one way then the other as if broken more than once. Her hair was a dirty blonde and her lips unusually large. The hazel eyes were hard as they glared at her. Having considerable experience with nuns, Dawn knew this was one who would gladly hurt her, often and for long periods. She would enjoy every second of it.
Dawn tried standing up. The legs were shaking but held her, along with the help of the other nun. She took a step forward, then another.
“Good, bring her along. The Boss wants to see her.” The larger nun picked up the short black leather whip that most of them carried from the table next to Dawn and stomped off, expecting the other two to follow. They did, but unsteadily.
Dawn was being led down a hallway in what could have passed for an office building. There were open areas with numerous cubicles, closed offices and all the trappings of a business including computer terminals, stacks of books and piles of paperwork. Only a few of the cubicles were attended by nuns, none of whom looked up as they passed.
At the elevator, the first nun paused to let them catch up. “I’ll take her now, Sister Lijuan. You can go.”
“Yes, Sister Freida.”
Freida took Dawn’s arm and practically dragged her into the elevator. As she punched the button, Dawn noted that they were on the sixteenth floor with three more above them. Freida had punched the button for the top floor.
When the door opened and she was pulled out, it was as if she had stepped into a different world. Gone were the harsh but practical business cubicles and filing cabinets and computer consoles. Instead there was deep blue wall hangings, a very plush pale blue carpet beneath her bare feet, and a wide panoramic view out over the city. It was night and many of the buildings showed lighted windows. Beyond the downtown buildings there stretched long lines of light fading into the distance. They were boulevards and avenues with their streetlights illuminating the city.
As she became more aware of details, she found very soft looking sofas facing the fascinating view. There were also several opening in the wall coverings were niches revealed statues lit from above. Most were of jade and oriental in style, but one was a statue of a horse done in a very Chinese style and of tan stone. Off to the left was the only practical item of furnishings, a desk. It was a very large and thick glass slab set upon two silver metal supports that took the shape of sawhorses. On the surface was a simple computer display and keyboard, two phones and a small glass vase with a single red rose.
No one seemed to be present.
Frieda held her arm in an iron grip as they waited. It was when a woman walked into the room from an opening hidden in the wall drapes, Dawn noticed Sister Frieda tensed. Without letting go of her arm, the nun bowed her head low to the newcomer.
“You may approach,” the woman said in a precise, educated husky voice that held a hint of Asia.
Sister Frieda tugged at Dawn’s arm. As they approached, Dawn had a few moments to study this woman who was obviously someone of importance. She was dressed in a deep red cheongsam, or “long dress”, but of a semi-transparent material that almost revealed the body beneath but managed to not quite. The woman was in her late thirties, had long black tresses that hung down to her waist. Her eyes were so dark that they looked totally black. As Dawn approached closer, it was as if she were looking into two bottomless black holes. Her thin lips and small nose made the eyes much more prominent. Yet she lacked the epicanthic fold that would have cast her as Oriental. Perhaps, thought Dawn, she’s Eurasian, some mixture of the Orient and the West.
“You may leave us, Sister Frieda,” this woman said. The tone of voice and casual manner in which the order was given, clearly indicated that she was used to being obeyed. Sister Frieda bowed and left. Dawn had the impression she was glad to be out of there.
“I am Bishop Diana Crofton. This is my office and home,” she said with a wave of her hand around the room that included the city view. “It is given to me to care for several states of the old United States as my diocese.”
She paused as if expecting some recognition of her status. When Dawn said nothing, she went on, “You were brought before me because your case is rather special. It has taken some time, but we have tracked your exploits. First you escaped from Saint Secundina’s, something that no other sinner has ever done. You really must tell me how you did that some day. And you came back into that worthy organization, forged some passes and took away one of my sinners from their custody. Then you snuck into Saint Dorina’s. Under questioning you said it was because you had to get information from one of the sinners there. And you admit to having gotten that information and passed it along to this stupid, feeble resistance movement.”
She paused again, this time to look Dawn over from head to toes. “And you snuck into this very building and stole some papers taken from a rebel. But you claim you do not understand what is on those papers. Is that true?”
Dawn considered remaining quite but was too tired for mental fencing. “Yes,” she simply said.
“You have done quite a lot for a simple girl from humble parents. I wonder if you realize how much trouble you’ve put us to.”
“A great deal, I hope,” she said weakly, lacking the heat she wished she could feel right then.
“You’re not repentant? You are not sorry you violated state laws and Church rules?”
“No, I am not.”
Inside, Dawn was sure they would not let her live much longer. She had, as this “Bishop” said, hurt them too much. She could only hope that they ended the torture and simply let her die. She held out no hope for rescue. She was in the stronghold of the enemy and in their iron-fisted grasp.
“It is strange that you are so casual about admitting guilt and lack of repentance. You do know, do you not, that I have supreme power here? With a single word I can have you put to death or allowed to live.”
Dawn said nothing.
“Why are you not down on your knees, begging and pleading for your life? Is life of so little value to you?”
Again Dawn said nothing.
Diana moved slowly around Dawn, examining her from every side, from the bare feet up to the tousled hair, and all the burnt marks in between.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where does it hurt the most?”
“Inside.”
“Emotionally?”
“No. Inside my vagina.”
“Ah, I see. Mother Superior Helena has been getting carried away with her electrical prod, hasn’t she?”
Dawn said nothing.
“If it is any consolation to you, those burn marks will heal, even the ones inside. You will once again be the beautiful woman you were. I can see that you were - and will be again - quite exceptional.”
Diana walked to her desk, each movement offering tantalizing hints of the very fine body almost hidden by that sheer garment. She sat down behind the desk, crossed her legs and made a steeple of her fingers before her.
“The question is: what should I do with you? You have most definitely earned a painful and prolonged death. Or even worse. I see your eyes open a little wider. Don’t you believe me? That there can be fates worse than death? There can and are, I assure you.
“You think you had it bad at Saint Secundina’s? Or Saint Dorina’s? I assure you that there is a place I can send you that will make those two seem like paradise. I call it the Chapel. Why? Because once you’re there, you’ll be constantly praying - praying for death to save you from the pain.”
She put her hands palms down flat on the glass table. “But I will keep you here for now. There is something about you that fascinates me. But before you get your hopes up, remember I can change my mind on a whim and have you dragged off to the Chapel.” She laughed. “Someday I will show you the place. Then you will believe me that there is hell on this Earth.”
She picked up one of the phones and spoke a few words in a voice too low for Dawn to hear. A moment later a different nun came into the room, bowed to Bishop Diana and awaited orders. This nun, like Sister Frieda had large bare breasts showing through the opening in the black leather.
“We are going to keep this sinner here for a while. Please see that she is secured. But do not make it too uncomfortable. She has been through a lot recently, as you can see from the marks all over her body.”
Without a further word, she turned and left the room. The nun came to Dawn and put a firm hand on her arm. “Come with me,” she said.
Dawn followed as she was led back to the elevator. This time they went down only one floor. When the doors opened, she had the feeling she was back at Saint Secundina’s. There were bare metal walls, a couple tables, cabinets and faintly visible down a corridor what looked to be steel barred doors to cells. Another nun stood from behind one of the table. The first nun relayed the orders and together they led her down the corridor to her own cell. Most of the dozen cells they passed were empty, but three held naked women in various states of restraints. One had been hogtied cruelly tight and hung by her wrists and ankles in the middle of the cell. She could not have been any older than Dawn’s eighteen years and looked to be unconscious.
The second was chained with numerous wrappings of heavy chains secured by large padlocks. There was even a metal band around her head and mouth. Dawn assumed that there was something inside the band that filled her mouth and acted as a gag. The third woman had most of her bondage hidden from sight. All Dawn could see was a head sticking out of a small hole atop a metal box. From the size and shape of the box, she had to be bundled up into a ball inside. The head that stuck out was mid-twenties, had long blonde hair and was gagged with a regular ball gag. She looked as if she had been crying.
Dawn’s cell was different from the others. It was a little larger and had no bench. Instead the floor was made of steel with a series of holes in it. To the side was a pile of metal bars shaped into “U’s”. Each of the ends of the “U” had notches. Dawn had never seen anything like that before.
The nuns removed the ropes from Dawn’s body, having to peel some of them from her flesh and leaving vivid red indentations. As often happened, she cried out when the circulation began seriously awakening nerves. The two of them did not wait for her to recover the use of her arms, however. Without delay they pushed her down to the floor and spread her out on the pattern of holes. One nun picked up a U and positioned Dawn’s wrist between two holes. She put the U over her wrist and pushed down. Dawn could hear clicking sounds as the U sank into the metal floor until it was snug against her wrist. Dawn was pretty sure that she would find it was impossible to lift the U. A small test confirmed this. The U’s were like the notched end of a pair of handcuffs, once it clicked into place, it would not back out.
The rest of the U’s went on her other wrist, her ankles, and arms above the elbows. A larger set went over her legs above the knees and a really large one went over her waist. All pushed down until they were snug and there was no change of her pulling them out. There was also no chance of her moving. The U shaped clamps held her firmly down to the floor, her legs slightly spread and her arms straight out to the side, bent at the elbows, and with the wrists on either side of her head.
The final U went in over her neck and held her head in place.
“Have a good night’s sleep,” one nun told her. “What there is left of it.”
They left. Dawn tested the bonds and found all unmovable, as she had expected. The metal beneath her was both cool and hard when she was laid upon it. It could have been warmer in the cell area for the naked women contained within, but it could also have been far worse. She was sore all over, but especially in her vagina where she feared serious damage had been done. She was cold, hungry, hurting and afraid of what the future would bring. The only thing she could be certain of was that it would not be good.
Chapter III
How Do You Get into a Fortress?
“I have been doing some research,” Matt told the group, “and it doesn’t look good.”
Around the table in the basement of the brewery the next morning were Tom, Karen, Jane and Matt, along with another man, Bret Holiday.
“We know that Dawn was transferred from Saint Secundina’s late last night and taken to the Church Headquarters on specific orders from Bishop Diana Crofton. Jane tells us that this woman has a reputation throughout the church for cruelty above and beyond anyone else.”
Jane lowered her head so the others would not see the tears forming in her eyes.
“What is with this name?” asked Tom. “I mean, isn’t a Bishop always a man?”
“Not always. In 2015 the Anglican Church of England ordained the first female bishop of recent times. And there have been cases of that title used for females in history. When the Catholic Church was restructured right after the war, the practice became more widespread as women took over positions of power from the males. In fact, you will find that all the male bishops today are old men with no real power; more figureheads than anything else. It’s really a unisex title, but traditionally associated with men because the church wanted it that way.
“I’ve asked Bret here to tell us about the layout of that building. Bret?”
Bret was an older man, late sixties, heavy-set with a gray ragged beard and long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, and a face full of lines, toughened by years of hard work. All through the meeting he had just sat there, looking like his best friend had just died.
“I was one of the workers who converted the top part of the Church Headquarters when Bishop Crofton took over. A real bitch, that one. Not that any of the sisters were exactly pleasant people, but she went out of her way to be harsh. And it wasn’t just the men working there, it was everyone. Once I saw her whip one of her nuns real hard just because the woman only nodded instead of bowing to her.
“Well, as I said, I worked on the top three floors during the conversion. The top floor is her personal living quarters. About all I can tell you of that, is that there are three bedrooms, one being quite large, a very large center room, a kitchen, many closets and several small rooms that might have been closets but were built kinda funny. I mean, they were the size of very small walk-in closets but were lined with steel plates. Walls, ceiling and floor, all thick metal plates. And the doors were steel also. Didn’t lock like normal door, neither. Had three hasps on the outside. You close them and lock them with padlocks.
“After we finished building those, another crew came in and did some special modifications to them. I didn’t see what those were, and it wasn’t considered safe to ask too many questions. Hell, maybe she just wants to store special stuff in there. Did you know in the kitchen there’s a wine cooler big enough to walk in, and holds hundreds of bottles of wine?
“Well, the floor below that was set up mostly as a holding area. We built twelve cells, several to special size and shape, and some storage places. Didn’t see what she wanted that for, there bein’ many jail cells lower in the building. And constantly used, I can tell you.
“The floor below that was partly offices for her staff, and a large area with nothing in it. I mean, it was half the size of the whole floor, but we didn’t put anything in there! I wondered if maybe another crew came in later and added something, but we ain’t seen that.”
“What about access to those floors?” asked Matt.
“There is only one elevator that goes up to those three floors. There are stairs, but they have security doors at the entrance on the floor below and into each of the three top floors. We had to make those out of reinforced steel panels. The doors into there looked more like bank vault doors than regular doors, you know. I don’t think you could blow your way in with dynamite, if that’s what you’re thinking ‘bout doing.”
“We don’t know what we’re going to do, Bret,” Matt told him. “We’re just trying to figure out what we can do.”
“Well, it ain’t gonna be easy gettin’ into that place, I can tell you.”
“Is there access to the roof from there?” Tom suddenly asked.
“Yeah. The stairs go up to the roof, but that door’s as thick as the others.”
“You’ve never been back there since it was built?” asked Matt. “I mean, like to fix something?”
“Nope. Ain’t been back.”
“Thank you very much, Bret. You’ve been a help.”
“You planning something there?” Bret asked, leaning forward attentively.
“Maybe. Like I said, we’re just in the planning stages.”
“Well, I hope you do somethin’; somethin’ really big. Wouldn’t bother me none if you was to blow up that whole damned building. Would serve them right. They took my granddaughter last year and we ain’t seen her since.”
Matt refrained from telling him they were very unlike to ever see her again. He thanked Bret again and showed him the way out. When he returned, he sat down with a dejected look on his face.
“Well, what now? Anyone figure a way to get into there?” His questions were answered with disconsolate looks. “Well, I don’t have any ideas. It would take an army to get into that place. That building is one of the best guarded buildings in the whole city. There’s a detachment of Guards stationed permanently in the ground floor, plus they are almost next door to the Guard Headquarters.”
“Any chance of our sneaking in through the access tunnels, like we did before?” asked Tom.
“I doubt it. They saw us leaving through that basement access, and I’m sure we would find it considerably more fortified now. You won’t be able to kick down the door.”
“I tried the city records office, but there are no plans on file for that part of the building. So I had Bret draw this layout for us.” He spread three sheets of paper out on the table. Each was a rough approximation of the rooms on the top three floors. “So, assuming his memory is good, and they haven’t made any changes, this is what we have to go on. Let’s get to work.”
* * * * *
Not far away, work of a different type was beginning. After a surprisingly refreshing six hours of sleep, Dawn was released from her pinned-down position and allowed to take a shower and have a meal. Both were under the watchful eye of two nuns but without restraints of any kind, a most unusual circumstance for prisoners of the Church. During her shower, one nun gave her a disposable razor and told her to shave off her pubic hair. Since her original escape from Saint Secundina’s, she had allowed it to grow back. She did not want to do it, not because she really minded, but because they wanted her to. But the unspoken threat was there: you do it, or we will do it for you. She carefully shaved herself smooth.
The meal was a quality meal of chicken pot pie, large and filled with chunks of meat and vegetables. It reminded Dawn of the good food at Saint Secundina’s. Which made her remember how puzzling it was that the sinners there could be treated so harshly and yet fed so well.
After the meal, she was given a brush and allowed to attend to her long hair with the aid of a mirror. Her skin was still sore from the numerous electrical burns, but she felt better than she had since she was captured. After that, she was given a pair of high heel shoes to put on. They were the usual shoes worn at Saint Secundina’s, with five inch heels and secured on with an ankle strap that prevented kicking them off. Having had a lot of practice during her months as a guest of Saint Secundina’s, she had little trouble standing and later walking in them.
Her arms were pulled behind her back and secured with a device she had not seen before. It was a short metal pole, only as long as the distance between her wrists and her elbows. Attached to each end was a set of cuffs, the same as handcuffs but without the chain. When these were locked about her wrists and above her elbows, it was much like she was bound the night before, elbows pulled together and forearms parallel, only not nearly as tight. The top cuffs bit in as they forced her elbows together, but the overall effect was more comfortable than tight ropes would have been.
Dawn had to sit for half an hour in a small cell near the guard desk. The summons came and she was taken out and up the elevator to Bishop Crofton’s private suite.
The view out the windows was as impressive as it had been the night before. The city lay spread out at their feet all the way to the distant mountains. Off in the distance, there was the thin blue band of the river. One could even see aircraft taking off and landing at the airport.
Bishop Crofton was wearing a one piece catsuit but not of the black leather her nuns wore. Hers was made of some kind of metallic green stretch fabric that hugged each curve of her body intimately. So snugly in fact, that it was immediately obvious that she wore no bra or panties underneath. She lounged on a sofa facing the windows.
“Bring her here,” came the command.
The nun walked Dawn around the sofa to stand before the Bishop. Diana nodded and pointed with her eyes to a spot on the floor a couple feet from her. The nun immediately pushed Dawn to her knees at that spot and forced her head into a bow.
“You may leave us.”
The nun bowed and left silently.
“So, Dawn, did you have a nice sleep?” Diana asked.
“Yes, in fact I did.”
“And they fed you?”
“Yes, they did.”
“You do look a lot better than last night. Once your skin had healed, you will again be a beautiful woman.”
Dawn did not know what to say.
“You may lift your head. I want you to look at me when we talk. I will have to decide today what to do with you. Mother Superior Helena has petitioned for you to be turned over to her. She intends to make your punishment and eventual execution both long and painful, and an example to the inmates of her institution.”
“I’m surprised you use the word inmates,” Dawn heard herself saying. “That implies they are prisoners, not repentant sinners.”
“Oh, they are prisoners!” said Diana with a smile. “Let us not mince words. A rose is a rose, and a prisoner is a prisoner. Just as you are here.
“I should consider her request. It was her institution that you hurt the most. She certainly deserves to be the one who punishes you.” She sighed dramatically, “But she is so unsophisticated when it comes to executions. Did I tell you that I have made a specialty out of particularly gruesome executions? She’ll probably just hang you or chop off your head, something plebeian. I can do much better.
“On the other hand, you have engaged in rebellion against the Church. I am inclined to send you to the Chapel for a lifetime of suffering.”
Diana leaned back against the cushions and stretched like a cat. The body stocking like fabric made it a very sensual display.
“I think, however, that you should be kept around for a while. I want to have my options open. To put it bluntly, I want to keep you available in case that document you stole from the Church turns out to be important. You would be no good to me if you are dead or damaged at the Chapel.”
Just then another figure came into the room. “Mother…” she started to say but halted when she saw the naked Dawn kneeling before her mother.
“Come on in, Julie. I’m just deciding the fate of a very bad sinner.”
The girl walked over to the sofa and stood there, looking down at Dawn.
“I’m thinking of sending her to the Chapel,” Diana said.
“Oh, Mom, what could she have done that is so terrible as to deserve that place?”
“Long story, Julie, my dear. Believe me, she deserves it.”
“No one deserves that place,” Julie replied with some heat. “I’m sorry you ever took me there. It was horrible.”
“It is supposed to be horrible,” Diana said with sudden viciousness in her voice. “They are supposed to suffer.”
Julie looked back to Dawn with genuine sorrow on her face. For a few seconds, nothing was said in the room.
“You are getting soft again, Julie. Just like your father, the wimpy faggot.”
“Oh, Mom, don’t talk about father like that.”
“Julie!” cried Diana, standing up quickly. She marched to the glass-topped desk and picked up one of those short leather whips the nuns carry. She was back and standing before her daughter before Dawn realized what was happening.
Julie, however, knew exactly what was happening. She turned, bent over, and lifted her skirt up to display a bare ass. Her mother swung with all her might, striking the youthful skin very hard. The girl cried out, fell forward and lay there, clutching her hurt bottom with both hands. She began sobbing.
Dawn knew what the girl felt, having been the recipient of such blows many, many times.
The injured girl struggled to her feet, smoothed down her skirt, then bowed to her mother and left the room with tears flowing down her face.
“Sometimes I wonder about her,” muttered Diana. “Takes too much after her father.”
Diana looked down at the whip in her hand as if surprised to find it there. Suddenly she struck out, cutting the whip across Dawn’s thigh. It was Dawn’s turn to cry out in surprise and pain, and fall over onto her side.
For one brief moment, the anger and hate on that woman’s face had been as startling as her actions. Then it was gone and she was calmly placing the whip back on the desk, and returning to her place on the sofa.
“Get up, sinner,” she said calmly, “I didn’t give you permission to lie down.”
Dawn struggled to regain her kneeling position, a difficult task with her arms joined behind her.
“Now, as I was saying, I think I’ll keep you around until this whole matter of those documents is cleared up. I’m sure the guards will find your co-conspirators soon and we’ll all find out what is in those documents.”
She smoothed her long black hair with one hand. For a long time she gazed out the window, lost in some kind of thought. When her mind came back to that room, she looked down at Dawn as if wondering what that girl was doing kneeling there.
“Do you know how to make love to another woman?” she asked.
“Yes,” Dawn replied with mixed feelings. She hated being forced to perform oral sex on another woman, but some of the best sex she had ever had in her young life was with other women.
“Good. Then I’ll keep you for a while.”
That said, the Bishop rose and called out, “Guard!”
Instantly one of the nuns came rushing in.
“Take this sinner back to her cell. Make sure she is comfortable… No, wait a minute. Make her uncomfortable but not extremely so. She’s not really a guest you know. Sinners should be kept constantly reminded of their status.”
With a wave of her hand, both of them were dismissed.
Dawn as taken back down to the detention level and left for the rest of the day in a cell, that handcuff rod still on her arms, and one ankle tied with rope and pulled up towards the ceiling until her bottom was off the floor.
Chapter IV
A Dinner for Two
“You have to include me!” Jane declared emphatically.
“No I won’t!” said Matt, equally as emphatic. “They catch you and heaven only knows what they will do to you. You are a former nun who turned traitor.”
“But I also have the best chance of helping,” she pleaded. “I know the Church better than you do.”
“You know the part of the Church you were associated with. Were you ever at the Bishop level? Have you ever been in the Church Headquarters here? I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can help, and the danger is too great.”
For all her youthful appearance, Jane could glare pretty fiercely.
“As I was saying, Tom,” Matt continued, “you’ll be in charge of trying to save Dawn. Call on whoever you need to help, but get her out. And don’t let Jane push her way in. Tie her up in the stockroom, if you have to.”
Matt turned to the other man present, a scholarly looking gentlemen of middle age. His features made him look like a college professor until you looked closer and saw passed the beard and wire framed glasses. The dark eyes behind the lens were hard, not the forgetful or passive eyes of a professor. Then you noticed that body in that business suit was both solid and trim, and there was a scar along his jaw line.
“Lance, you and I will work on the Russian angle. I’ll tell you more later but there is something in Russia that we have to get - something very valuable.”
Never being a man of many words, Lance just nodded.
“Okay, that’s about it.” Matt handed the drawings of the Church Headquarters to Tom then brought out the laptop. “Here’s the translation of a document Dawn risked her life to get for us. Professor Resnick made an important discovery. There is a weapon left over from the cold war. The Russian built an EMF generator and hid it in a communications satellite. If you have the controls for this weapon, you can direct an EMF pulse of great strength to any spot on the Earth.”
“And what does that do?” Lance asked.
“It will totally mess up anything electrical or electronic. The energy of this weapon overloads electronics and burns them out. That means anything that runs on electricity: computers, automobiles, toasters, anything. It would bring a technological society to a grinding halt. It used to be the only way to get this much energy was a nuclear explosion. In fact, some of the EMF effects were noted during the recent war when nukes went off near cities. But the Russian found another way, one without using a nuke.”
“How can you be sure it will still work? The cold war was a long time ago.”
“The communications satellite was nuclear powered. It is still working, so we assume the weapon will also work.”