TORTURED TEACHER Chapter 27 - prolonged torture session
"Well," the matron said gaily, while she cleaned Susie up after the
Chief's visit, "that's the last customer for the night." Susie let herself
draw a long breath of relief, even though the job of removing the pins
was still causing her pain -- pain which the matron seemed to enjoy, and
tried to prolong. "Now it's time to meet the club's Manager," she went
on. "He always likes to interview the new employees. Good personnel
relations you know," she added archly.
So I'm finally going to meet the bastard responsible for all this, Susie
thought vindictively. Well, I'll give him a piece of my mind, Manager or no.
And then the matron twisted Susie's arm painfully behind her back, started
strapping her onto the torture frame. Oh God! Susie thought. Was this what
that shadowy "Manager" meant by "interview"?
It sure was, she soon discovered. When Susie was entirely helpless, with
her nakedness exposed for whatever satanic things the Manager might want
to do, the matron spoke again. "The Manager is someone you know, Sweetie,"
she grinned. "In fact, in a small town like this, you'll probably find that
you already know most of your lovers. But the Manager has a special
interest in keep you guessing, so . . ."
Susie felt more helpless than ever as the matron taped the blindfold over
her eyes. She knew that her torturers had, so far, gotten a special
pleasure out of letting her know in advance just what they were going to
do to her -- and to what part of her; to let her savor ahead of time each
new pain or indignity they were going to inflict. Like the poet who had
said that the coward dies a thousand times. And it was a horribly
effective psychology -- as these sadists well knew.
But this was even worse. To lie there helpless, not knowing -- not
knowing who was looking at her nakedness, who was preparing to invade
her privacy, to torment the intimate parts of her body, to subject her
to normal and perverted rape -- this was a hundred times worse.
And then the matron fastened that telemetering cuff on her, and Susie
knew that the Manager was one of those demons who wanted to make her
agony last as long as possible, without the "inconvenience" of her losing consciousness.
And one more indignity, perhaps worse than all the others.
"The Manager knows that you're a little upset at being fucked by other men
than your husband," the matron said sweetly. And that was the understatement
of the year, Susie thought bitterly. "So," she went on, "he's going to
let you pretend that he is your husband, while he makes love to you in
his own special ways. So make sure you address him as 'darling', and
whatever else you call your husband. And call him 'Jim'", she taunted.
That was surely the ultimate indignity. To have to pretend that the man
raping and torturing her, and subjecting her to the vile perversions that
she knew would be her fate -- to have to pretend that he was her husband,
whom she loved -- that was a new extreme in torment. And she knew that
she would have to go along with the perverted suggestion, or else . . .
Isolated as she was from reality, Susie had no concept of time. Each
minute of agony seemed like years, but she had no way of knowing how
many of those minutes there were. She didn't know how many men -- or
women -- tortured and defiled her during that interminable period. Or
they might even have set the machine on automatic for some of the time,
and just watched -- or gone off to play cards, or to have sex with
somebody else, or something.
She did know that at least two men were involved, though, because more
than once she was raped simultaneously by two torturers (or was one of
them a dildo?), giving her the chance to demonstrate once more the
proficiency she had developed at "sandwich" fucking.
