Three years following my training, I'm firmly
entrenched as the Lead Disciplinarian--the Pain
Boss--in title and by virtue of my talents. Jim had
retired which allowed Susan to become my second in
command. Together we managed a total cadre of 13
disciplinarians. They included four other women, two
white and two black. The seven remaining men equaled
four white and three black. Our customers rarely
expressed a desire for a disciplinarian based on sex
or color; technique application was normally the
discerning factor. We were all accomplished with tying
the gamut of knots and applying whips as well as
thoroughly schooled on the duration of allowable
suspension and application of heat. Susan was
absolutely straight and preferred to work on
well-built men. Another woman, Julie, was admittedly
gay and often helped me torture women. Our two black
ladies, Jana and Sadie, were twins and always worked
together. They had no preferences as to whom they
abused. I'd hate to have been their victim as their
techniques were devastating which I'll soon describe.
Our women were all fairly tall and well muscled.
Susan, being the oldest, had recently had her breasts
reduced as they were beginning to sag. She had a lot
of pride and wanted to look good when stripped to the
waist and oiled up to conduct a session.
Our men ranged in size from a hair under six feet,
Carl, to Jason who stood at six foot eight inches and
weighed 425 pounds. He looked like a monster; however,
as is so often the case, Jason was one of the nicest
people I'd ever met--as well as the most powerful. He
met his match though during his initial training when
he was worked on by the twins. They reduced him to a
crying mass in 52 hours. He was in the infirmary for
six days and still limps to this day. Our lone male
homosexual was Buddy. He was in his late thirties and
loosing his hair. He kept his head shaved to hide that
fact. Buddy often assisted Jason when a member would
contract for a particularly long session. Buddy would
be the good cop to Jason's bad. Buddy enjoyed
nurturing the tortured victim and was an accomplished
healer. His therapeutic massage allowed Jason to apply
pain for days on end. I often got Buddy to rub me down
following an intense session.
We were all certainly professional acquaintances but
not what you'd call good friends. Dana Simpson, my
recruiter and boss, and I enjoyed each other's
platonic company when I was on break but we barely saw
each other except at occasional gathers in the lounge.
I was really enjoying my new life and my retirement
fund was growing rapidly. I was investing nearly all
my pay and had assets valued at nearly four million
dollars in the Cooper Organization's financial
headquarters in the Cayman Islands. I had free room
and board and access to the infirmary. What little
spending money I needed came out of my military
retirement check that was directly deposited to a
local bank in Frederick. My free time was spent
roaming the countryside on a black Harley-Davidson
I'd just returned from such a two-wheeled excursion
and found Julie, our gay lady, waiting in my villa.
Julie ran to hug me.
"Glad to see you missed me," I said.
"I did but that's not why I need to hug you," she
replied and began sobbing. "Travis, I had a victim die
I eased Julie to the couch and urged her to tell me
what happened. She explained that she was working on
one of my regulars and was unable to bring the woman
to orgasm. Julie explained that she took the woman to
the Agony Chair and followed the proper procedures but
the woman's heart stopped anyway. She tried for a long
time to revive her including injecting adrenaline
directly into the heart but nothing worked. I asked
Julie who the woman was.
"Yvette Johnson," she answered. "It just happened,
she's still strapped in the chair."
I paged Dana to meet us in room ten and Julie and I
hustled for the punishment room that held the dead
Yvette. When we entered, Phil was kneeling holding his
dead wife's hand as she sat rigid in the black metal
chair. Phil bellowed at Julie when he looked up.
"That queer cunt killed my wife!"
He lunged towards us until I stopped him clutching him
close while he continued to rant and blubber. Julie
shrank back out the door and had to be pushed aside as
"Oh Christ Phil," Dana said. "I'm so sorry, What
"It was an accident," I explained to both Dana and
Phil. "Julie is one of our best and Yvette liked it
rough. I'm sure her heart just gave out."
"She didn't monitor her," Phil yelled. "She just kept
pumping the volts to her and never checked her once!"
"That's not true," Julie retorted. "I watched her eyes
Travis and listened hard to her breathing..."
Dana appealed to Phil, "Please, let's go to my office.
This is a terrible tragedy Phil. We all loved
Yvette...and you as well. We need to get out of this
room and let our orderlies help Yvette."
"What can they fucking do for her now?" hollered Phil
to nobody in particular. He allowed Dana and I to
escort him from the area and away from his beloved
Several hours later, Dana and I sat alone in her
office sharing a bottle of brandy. Dana explained that
the orderlies would clean Yvette up and get her home.
A designated Cooper Organization board member would
escort Phil home as well. Once there, Yvette would be
put in bed and Phil would be instructed to call 911
and report that he was unable to wake his wife. The
police and rescue squad would respond and Yvette
rushed to the Frederick Hospital where she would be
pronounced dead on arrival with an annotated cause of
Dana said Julie would be put on extended leave of
absence with scheduled appointment with the
Organization's shrink to help her deal with the events
of the day. Dana was worried about Phil in that he
blamed Julie totally for Yvette's death and not his
wife's high tolerance for pain.
"The board will work with him Travis," Dana explained.
"He'll be okay with the event eventually and accept it
as an accident."
I felt sorry for Phil and Julie. I felt worse for
myself; I'd miss Yvette.
On to Chapter 12