by John Savage
The third book in the “Repression” series.
Dawn, who had already suffered greatly and risked all in rebellion against the evil nuns, was once more a prisoner. She was having electrical prods shoved in very sensitive places, with even worse acts being promised by wicked, sadistic nuns, a group who really knew how to deliver unendurable pain and did so enjoy their work.
The resistance movement now had knowledge of a weapon that could mean the downfall of the hated One World government and the return of the Church to an organization of hope and love in place of the perversion it had become.
The mission: to rescue Dawn and to save the world.
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.”