by John Savage
Once, there was a private school for young ladies. Only it wasn’t really a school, but more of a prison. Those who had a young woman they wanted out of the way (and the money to pay for it), enrolled their problem in Saint Hortense’s and never have to worry about that problem again. After a while, there would either be an unfortunate accident or the girl would simply disappear. End of problem.
One such young lady was Angel Martin. Sent to that place of eternal torment and pain, she managed to turn the tables and free the other “students”. The school was shut down and all the Satan-worshipping, sadistic nuns were arrested and put away in prisons of a different type. End of that problem.
Wrong. Angel and Darla, a former nun who turned against them, were enjoying freedom and their own unique form of love when a detective steps into their lives and informs them that Saint Hortense’s is again in operation and that only they can help shut it down. Highly unpleasant memories of the torment they both endured are pushed aside as they depart for France and the dangers of plunging again into that cesspool of evil.
Danger lurks around every corner and the evil nuns are always looking for a fresh, young female for their Dark Lord.
Torment, extreme restraints, imprisonment, sexual pain… Just a typical John Savage novel. This book is a sequel to “School for Torture.”
“Let me tell you a little story,” said Bartholomew Braiden as he handed a very dry martini to his wife. “A story that I heard from one of my golf partners at the Nineteenth Hole the other day.”
Shara Braiden crossed her legs, did not bother to push down the hem of a rather short dress as it rose up, and took the offered glass. “Oh, and what story it that?”
Bart settled down with his own drink, took a sip, sighed, and then continued. Outside the den, an obnoxious bird warbled a monotonous song. “About fifteen years ago there was a group of nuns in France who devised a way of making money while indulging themselves in vices no church would ever condone. Well, truth is no one was certain if they really were nuns or not. But no matter. They purchased an old girl’s school that was failing, upgraded the facilities, and got it on its financial feet. Monitarie Academy for Girls, he said it was called.
“Well, it was just a front. What they had really done was devise a way for people to get rid of young women. All the parents or whomever had to do was enroll the girl in that school. A short time later, there would come word that the student had unfortunately died in a car crash or some such tragedy. In reality, the female was taken away during the night and ‘enrolled’ in a different school, a school from which she would never graduate.”
He paused to take another drink. “That school was called Saint Hortense’s and purported to be a convent school. Truth was it was a prison. The girls were kept in cells and treated terribly. When the story finally came out, it seems there was more than just illegal detainment going on there. There was the most painful bondage, all manner of bizarre sexual torment, and even Satan worship!
“Well, there was this one student, a girl named Angel Martin, I believe he said her name was. She rebelled and managed to get her hands on a gun, freed the students, and managed to capture all the nuns. The students took their revenge on the nuns but eventually tired of that and notified the police.
“Well, the place was shut down, the nuns hauled off and the supposedly dead students returned to their former lives.”
He paused to finish off his martini.
“An interesting story,” Sara said as she picked out the olive with gold painted fingernails. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Ah, you shall see. The nuns went to prison and the schools were shut down. But here’s the best part. According to Bill Williams, the school has reopened. And, also according to him, they are up to their old tricks.”
“Hmmm…” Sara said as she smiled wickedly. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
He smiled back at her. “It think it’s time for our little Cindy to further her education. Perhaps in a foreign school…. An exclusive foreign school. Maybe in France.”
“Oh, Bartie, you’re so deliciously cruel! I love it!”