Chapter 9: Weight Reduction Program

Chapter 9: Weight Reduction Program

If nothing else, the Resistance had plenty of room in their headquarters. The sewer and utilities tunnels ran for miles in all directions under the city. They had access to the underground power lines, telephone and data communication optic fiber lines, and more. They also had plenty of space in the form of small vaults they found and cleared out. These vaults, as the utility companies called them, were small rooms with a door and nothing else save for electrical and communications switch boxes and such. Tom and Rene commandeered one of these rooms as a prison and torture chamber. They were quite ready to resort to physical torture to learn what they wanted to know.

Natasha, still bound to the chair, was carried into that vault and set down in the middle. A single overhead light bulb provided all the illumination. She was glaring at them, a lot of hatred in her eyes but still a slight smirk as if she did not take them seriously. Perhaps she expected to be rescued by Guards and Nuns at any minute. That attitude puzzled Rene. This woman was simply not as scared as she should be. Then Rene realized what might be the reason for it. At her orders, Tom began removing the woman’s clothing. Rene pulled her .45 and kept Natasha covered as he unwound the rope from around her, unlocked the handcuffs, pulled down the top of her leather catsuit, and then locked her wrists again. He had to do the same where they had tied her ankles to the chair legs. When he was finished, the woman was completely naked and again bound to the chair. The hatred in her eyes was much stronger now. Rene noted that she glanced now and then at the pile of clothing lying on the floor.

It only took a minute for her to find the tracking device, a small, black capsule fitted into the catsuit itself. Rene threw it on the floor and Tom smashed it beneath his boot. Rene finished going over the clothing to assure herself that there was nothing additional. Then she folded the catsuit and put it in the area where she had a cot and a few personal things.

Then the questioning of the assistant bishop began.

“I want to know all that you do about Saint Susan’s,” Rene began.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” sneered Natasha. Her Russian accent made sneering easier.

“Please don’t bother to lie. I’m sure you do know a lot about Saint Susan’s. In fact, I’ll wager that you had something to do with the sending to two women there recently.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We may not be as skilled as you Nuns, but I think we can make you talk,” Tom chipped in with.

“Go ahead. I cannot tell you what I do not know.”

Rene had a moment of doubt. Was it possible that his woman did not know the details of the secret prison where Dawn and Jane had been sent? But she shook that idea out of her head. Leaning forward, she put her hands on the back of the chair and brought her face up close to Natasha’s. “Then,” she told her in a quiet, cold voice, “I hope you like pain.”

For just a second she thought she saw a flicker of fear dart across the woman’s face. Then the sneer was back.

Rene stood up and began the psychological portion of the interrogation. “I could slap you around, whip you with a belt, even let Tom here use you as a punching bag. But I don’t want to waste time with that amateur stuff. I’m going to go right for the serious pain.”

Again there was that flash of fear. Good. Natasha did not like the way this young woman was talking.

“How about we start by cutting off your nipples? Tom would, I’m sure, be glad to do it. Would be a shame, too; you do have a very nice pair of breasts. I would hate to slice them all up – speaking as one woman to another.”

From the almost casual statements, her voice turned very cold. “I will do it. I’ll remove your breasts, one small piece at a time.”

There was silence in the room, save for the breathing of three people, one of whom was sweating and breathing harder.

“Tom, get me the sharpest knife you can find. Or maybe a razor blade. Yes, that would be good; a nice sharp razor blade.”

Tom left on his assigned task.

“You can stop this, you know. Just talk. But wait until I’ve cut off a nipple. I want you to know that I’m serious. Then you’ll have your chance to talk before I begin taking slices out of that very nice breast right here.” Rene poked the woman’s left breast with a stiff forefinger.

Tom came back in with a pocketknife that he handed to Rene. She opened it, tested the blade against her palm and grimaced. “Dull. This is going to be messy work. Tom, go see if Lance has anything sharper. With this I’ll be more hacking than cutting.”

After Tom left again, Rene took the open knife and ran the blade edge over a piece of concrete to sharpen it. When she tested it again, she still frowned. “Better, but still pretty dull. Oh, well…”

She took a nipple already stiff with fear between her forefinger and thumb, pulled it out as much as she could, then put the knife blade up against the distended flesh behind the nipple. Very slowly, she drew the blade downward, leaving a thin red line on the skin. The blade, it seemed, was sharp enough to easily cut the flesh. When she finished, there was an inch long cut oozing a few drops of blood.

“Just the beginning,” Rene told her prisoner. “I’ll cut all around the nipple, removing small strips of skin. Then, I’ll cut off the end. I know that this little cut didn’t hurt much, but it’ll be when I slice off the nipple, you’ll scream.”

Natasha was looking down at the red line and blood on her breast. Rene squeezed the nipple harder, digging her fingernails into the flesh. The pain registered on Natasha’s face but she did not utter a word.

“I know you figure you can stand a lot of pain. Maybe you can. But can you take the permanent removal of more and more of your breasts until you’re as flat-chested as a man?”

Natasha was sweating. Her eyes were wider as she watched Rene place the blade up against her skin again and draw it down on the other side of her nipple. There were now two red lines. Rene put the blade to the underside of the stretched out flesh and pulled it sideways. Two small drops of blood fell onto Natasha’s bare thigh.

The forth cut completed the encircling of that nipple. The cuts were not deep but when Rene went back over the first one again, drawing the knife deeper this time, Natasha cried out.

Rene smiled inside herself. This was going as she planned. And she was right; this woman could probably take a lot of pain in the normal fashion of whipping and beating. But the psychological effect of losing her breasts, painfully, a bit at a time, was getting to her.

Rene did not like the idea of actually slicing off the nipple. After all, she had two of them herself that she was proud of and would hate to lose, but she reminded herself of all the torture Dawn and other friends of hers had undergone at the hands of the Church, and she was ready to actually do the deed.

“After I’ve removed your breasts, which, by the way, the pieces will be fed to the stray dogs outside, I’m going to remove your clitoris. I’m sure that will be quite painful, what with this dull knife and all, but do you know what it will do? Ah, I see by your eyes that you do. With that little part of you gone, you can never have an orgasm again. Imagine going through the rest of your life horny as hell but unable to get satisfaction. Never again to enjoy the greatest pleasure a woman can.”

Natasha was looking pale.

Rene deepened another of the cuts until more blood was dripping down. There was physical pain, but it was the games she was playing in Natasha’s mind that hurt the most.

She positioned the knife over the third cut, ready to slice down deeper, when Natasha blurted out: “Stop! I’ll tell you what you want.”

Rene held the knife with the blade in the third cut. “Talk,” she growled.

“It will do you no good,” Natasha began, “but I’ll tell you. Saint Susan’s is an underwater facility in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It’s about a hundred feet under the surface and cannot even be seen if you’re right over it.”

“What is the location?”

“I don’t know the coordinates,” Natasha said.

Rene pushed the knife harder into the flesh.

“But I can find out for you,” Natasha hurriedly said.

Rene looked up to see that Tom and Lance were both standing at the doorway, looking on. Tom had a sick look on his face as he stared at the pulled out nipple and the cuts. Lance wore no expression that could be read.

“Tom, get paper and pencil. Take notes,” said Rene. “Now, we’re going to have a discussion. You keep answering truthfully and you might save your breasts.”

“How do I know that you won’t kill me after you get what you want?” she asked.

“You don’t. But I can tell you that I will keep you alive for long enough to confirm all that you tell us. If any of it is false, then we’ll begin this session again. And I won’t stop until you’re a lot lighter in weight.”

They got all the woman knew about Saint Susan’s.