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Blessed are the Crucified

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Okay, folks, things start getting a little more lurid in this chapter.

Chapter Three

On the appointed day, he arrived at Jennifer’s grand mansion at the agreed-upon hour. Jennifer introduced him to the the humble servant woman whose name was Jane. She explained that her conscience was bothering her because she had helped Jane avoid punishment for her treachery and therefore allowed her to continue her criminal ways in the home of a neighbor. Jane stood silent with her eyes fixed on the floor. Jennifer hardly looked at her, directing her comments to Jack. She suggested that the only solution was for her to be punished.

Jack took it from there. He escorted Jane into the room set aside for his plan. He had earlier set it up with devices that might be used for her punishment. Once they were in the room he quizzed Jane about her religious beliefs. She professed to be an honest woman and that the one indiscretion stood in complete contrast to her steadfast and honest work. She said she prayed to Jesus for strength and forgiveness.

He then spoke about the sufferings of Jesus and his death on the cross. He elaborated the diabolical tortures that the Romans had inflicted on the body of the savior. He described in detail what happens when someone is scourged, how the skin is ripped by the metal pieces attached to the tails and how the victim is essentially flayed as the scourging continues. She cringed in horror as he related more gruesome details. He told her how the horrible whip even tears into the muscle beneath the skin, sometimes exposing bone. Jane put her hands over her eyes as if his graphic description had created an image of the gory scene right before her.

He spoke of the crown of thorns shoved down mercilessly on his head. He spoke of the long walk to Golgotha and the nailing of his hands and feet once there. He spoke of the long suffering Jesus had while hanging there on that device designed to slowly torture a person to death.
Jane sobbed and held her hands to her face as he spoke. Then he grabbed her by the wrists and stared into her tear-filled eyes.

“What suffering have you ever done compared to that of our Lord?” he asked.

“None,” she answered.

“So, you come here before me with the mark of sin still on you having failed to compensate for your crime?”

“What can I do?”

“Ah, it is good that you ask, for I have the means here for you to inflict punishment on yourself. You may do so knowing that God in heaven is watching you and approving of your voluntary efforts to pay for your sins, which include, by the way, not just the theft, but the deception and the long weeks spent in comfort, giving no thought to what Jesus had done to atone for the sins of mankind.

He then had her stand and pull down the top of her gown. Her ample breasts were still firm and he saw that she was, indeed, a bit stocky, and strong enough to endure heavy punishment. He then handed her a flogging whip and told her that she must do to herself what the Romans had done to Jesus.

She hesitated a moment and then flung the lash over her left shoulder. The tips of the several leather strands fell with a smack on the middle of her back just below the shoulder blade. Jack walked around to have a look at the brightening red welt. Then he told her to continue.

She whipped herself thoroughly with one hand and then the other so that soon her back was full of welts and weals. A few small rivulets of blood made their way down from wounds on her shoulders. Finally, her knees trembled and gave out, leaving her prostrate on the floor. Jack wanted to take the whip and thrash her hard, but he held himself back. He bent down and spoke to her.

“Remember that they whipped Jesus with thongs designed to lacerate his skin,” he said in a near whisper. “This whip is simply leather tails, much softer than whips generally used for punishment. But even those used in prisons are nothing compared to what the Romans used on Jesus. Do you think you have suffered even a small part of what he had to endure?”

She shook her head and then brought herself up off the floor. Jack now brought a metal beam of about a meter in length and set it on the floor. On top of the beam were teeth like those of a saw, only spaced out a bit more. He then pulled her over before it and brought down a rope that had been run through an iron ring secured in a beam above them. An equal length hung from each side. He grabbed one end and wrapped the rope tightly around her wrists, but did not tie the loose ends into a knot. He placed them in her hands.

“You can end this punishment anytime you want, as you can see you are not tied. You can quickly undo these binds. The rope is here mainly to support you and allow you to pull yourself up now and then to alleviate the pain in your feet.”

With these words, he pulled the other end of the rope, which traveled through the ring above, dropping frayed bits of hemp on the area below. He then tied the end of the rope to a ring set into the wall. He could see that she was now standing on her soles, her heels slightly raised off the floor. He pushed the beam over to her and set it so that the row of teeth was just below each foot. Standing on her toes, the sharp barbs did not touch her, but if she lowered herself a little the blades would prick her skin in the area of the instep, between the sole and heel. If she fully lowered herself the blades would cut into her flesh painfully.

He then sat in a chair in front of her with a glass of wine and watched her struggle. She valiantly tried not to lower her feet, but the muscles in her calves cramped and burned, demanding relief. Each time she came down, the pain in her legs lessened, but the flesh on the bottoms of her feet sunk into the waiting barbs and she let out a cry of anguish.

“Remember how long Jesus hung on his cross,” Jack shouted. “He had nails through his feet, not little teeth that merely prick your soles. He also suffered from nails through his hands. Imagine what it must have felt like to pull yourself up on the cross under those conditions.”

Jane moaned and squirmed and let out a deep breath and then went down again. The only thing that kept the blades from driving deeper into her feet was that the height of her suspension would not allow her heels to fully reach the ground. Still, blood was now oozing from her wounds and tears were flowing down her cheeks. Jack stood up and walked back and forth in front of her. In his mind he was whipping her hard as she hung there.. It was a sublime image, but he knew he dared not fall to that temptation. As much pain as this woman was feeling, he thought, she is bringing it on herself. Her devotion to Jesus has caused her to inflict torture on her own body. I am merely providing her guidance and some devices to assist her in her spiritual journey.

A moment later, Jane collapsed and the blades tore her feet again. He saw that the ropes were coming loose and realized that she had fainted and would soon fall. He rushed over and took her in his arms. He could feel the raised welts on her back as he guided her away from the beam with its threatening teeth. With one hand he loosened the rope wound around her wrists and then, grasping her tightly with his other hand, he lowered her to the floor. He then took some water from a bowl and splashed it in her face. She gasped and shuttered as she sat up, her eyes looking about like a wild creature trapped in a cage.

“You have done well today,” he said. “But I fear there is a lot more punishment required. Perhaps we can wait until next week for that.”
She shook her head in agreement and rubbed her feet with her hands. Her wrists were red from the rope that had rubbed against the flesh while she was suspended. Her back had stopped bleeding and Jack came over with a small towel which he had dipped in the water. He gently applied it to the wounds on her back and she winced whenever he touched a particularly painful welt. He felt compassion for her at this moment and wanted to kiss her. He wanted to bandage her torn feet and put ointment on her back. He also wanted to rape her. But now Jennifer entered the room and walked over to look at the results of the session. She nodded with approval as she examined Jane’s back and then Jack showed her the bloody feet.

“I already told her she will need at least a few more session to fully pay for her sins,” he told Jennifer loud enough to make sure Jane also heard.

“That will be fine,” said Jennifer. “I want to help her achieve salvation and I know she is fervent enough and strong enough to do it.”

Jane then dressed herself, thanked both of them for their help and then walked slowly and painfully out the door. It would be a long walk back to the house where she was employed and given a bed to sleep in. Her shoes protected her from the rocks on the rough road, but every time she put her weight on them it felt as if she were walking on flames.

Back at the room that had now been inaugurated as the torture chamber, Jack and Jennifer were embraced on a mattress that had been placed on the floor in a far corner. Both of them had been thrilled by Jane’s agony and the sight of her blood. They rolled together as two animals in a death struggle might, intoxicated by the sight of another person’s suffering.
 
Mark Kee said:
Thank you. I think what you are seeking is a more modern approach to the story, using the style used in thrillers and crime stories. I, however, was seeking to imitate to some extent the gothic novels of the 19th Century. It is also a somewhat dreamy fantasy and I don't expect anyone to find it realistic, even for a strange society in a past century. Nonetheless, in an effort to please my readers, I shall try to employ a little more crispiness in the narratives. As for directness of communication, I am not quite sure what that means. Would that be the communication between the characters?
Click to expand...

By "directness" I meant direct speech as opposed to indirect or reported speech. I can see that you are attempting to imitate Victorian fiction. But have a look at the works of those Victorian novelists considered highly readable today - Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, Oscar Wilde, Robert Louis Stevenson, etc.etc. - and you will find a preponderance of direct speech and physical description of characters. Your writing has virtually no physical description, and I regard that as a serious defect in erotic writing.

People read erotica because they want to visualize characters in the flesh. We learn a lot in your story about the mental processes of the protagonist, but I have no idea what he looks like. I like to know what male characters look like because I like to imagine myself seduced or abused by them. I also want to know what the women look like because I like to project myself into the story, and identify with them. There is a plethora of amateur erotic writing on the web, and unless you grab the readers' attention from the outset, they will simply click away.
 
CruxGirl said:
By "directness" I meant direct speech as opposed to indirect or reported speech. I can see that you are attempting to imitate Victorian fiction. But have a look at the works of those Victorian novelists considered highly readable today - Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, Oscar Wilde, Robert Louis Stevenson, etc.etc. - and you will find a preponderance of direct speech and physical description of characters. Your writing has virtually no physical description, and I regard that as a serious defect in erotic writing.

People read erotica because they want to visualize characters in the flesh. We learn a lot in your story about the mental processes of the protagonist, but I have no idea what he looks like. I like to know what male characters look like because I like to imagine myself seduced or abused by them. I also want to know what the women look like because I like to project myself into the story, and identify with them. There is a plethora of amateur erotic writing on the web, and unless you grab the readers' attention from the outset, they will simply click away.
Click to expand...

Thank you for being more specific. Indeed, I have a mental image of the characters and yet I failed to include some descriptions. Perhaps I was thinking it would be more fun for people to imagine their own version of the character. When I read, if the character's description doesn't suit me, I just go with my own. Ian Fleming was not enthusiastic about Sean Connery playing Bond at first because he had in mind someone more like Roger Moore, who played the character later on. But most Bond fans still think of Connery as the best Bond. That is just an example and I know the casting process for a movie is something quite different from the verbal descriptions an author must create.

Although i am now a few chapters in, I may try to insert a little more description of the characters as I go. I know I have written more description of the lovely young Madeleine, who is coming up soon.
 
But wait, there's more:

Chapter Four


Both Jack and Jennifer had a cynical and very critical view of the church. This helped them justify their project, but only to themselves, for they never spoke to anyone else about their sordid proclivities. Although Jennifer’s servants were aware of something strange going on and they looked on Jack with great suspicion, some of the older ones saying he was the devil himself come to snatch away the soul of their beautiful and elegant mistress. Some of them placed handmade talismans above the doors, which were designed to repel the devil. But they seemed to do no good, because Jack came anyway.

Jack noticed some of the quaint figures made of straw or twigs and thought them amusing. Here was a perfect example of the folk religion that still carried elements of the pagan rituals that were practiced before Christianity swept over Europe. Jack was intrigued by the pagan’s culture. He wished there were more information to be found. So far, he had only the biased Christian books that portrayed paganism as a base, abhorrent way of life the darkness of which was dispelled once the light of the true religion shone on the continent.

The peasants and servants were dedicated Christians who went to church to pray and receive communion every Sunday. They even told their sins to reprobate priests, some of whom, as was seen in the case of Jane, were not true to their vows and seemed to have no shame. Jack believed the hierarchy of the church protected such louts. The bishops and cardinals were, above all, political operatives, who sought more money and power while selling their fantasies to the poor, stupid people who longed for something to alleviate their miserable lives. For some, the thought of salvation in a post-death existence was the only hopeful part of their lives.

Knowing this, Jack might have felt some sympathy for them, but his project was based on his own perverse desire to see women suffer and the more innocent and ignorant they were, the more he enjoyed it. He wasn’t sure what Jennifer got from it, other than the opportunity to relieve his sexual arousal once he had finished a session. It was clear now that Jennifer was also aroused by the pain inflicted on these girls. Did she enjoy seeing the results of Jack’s work or was she also anxious to participate? Jack wasn’t sure, but he would have welcomed her presence at any of his sessions.

Jennifer, however, knew where to draw the line. She was a respectable woman now and she needed to be careful. She knew that the maids might talk and that the word of something diabolical taking place at her house could spread and become more exaggerated at each telling. She needed Jack to find some other place, but not just yet. Jennifer wanted a little more excitement before shutting it down and she wanted to use Jack as her own little plaything. For now, she thought they would be safe as long as she could convince her servants that the project they were carrying out had beneficent goals that would help many women overcome their wicked ways.

So, one day she gathered her household helpers together for a little chat. She acknowledged the secrecy of Jack’s project and why it was necessary. She said her efforts to conceal what went on in the back room were not meant to cover up some evil undertaking, but to respect the privacy of the women who came seeking spiritual guidance and a way to restore their dark-stained souls to a state of purity again.

Jennifer stood before them, tall, thin and dressed in a magnificent dress of crimson silk that displayed well her thin waist and ample breasts. Her blonde hair was worn up this day, with braids tied round the top of her head. Two of the servant girls had made it so earlier in the day. They also tended to her dresses, her many pairs of slippers and shoes and the capes and cloaks she wore when winter came. Their mistress had also entrusted them with her jewelry, which was kept in large box equipped with numerous drawers and placed on top of her bedroom table. They could never hope for such luxuries themselves, but they enjoyed the thrill vicariously through her. Although some of her actions bewildered them and made them uneasy, they were devoted to her and would follow the advice she provided.

There was, however, a degree of dissent found among some of the older maids whose main chores were in the kitchen. They had been the most fervent in placing the talismans above each door. But they were also devout churchgoers who perceived no contradiction in carrying on pagan practices while at the same time declaring their faith in Jesus Christ.

One of the maids was in the vicinity of the church at the entrance to a market square in the center of the city the day after Jennifer’s speech to the household staff. There, she spotted the one man in the parish whose purity of spirit and whose integrity were unquestioned by anyone. He was a bearded man of about 40 years of age, taller than most men at a few inches above six feet. He had coal black hair and a beard to match. He wore sandals and a frock similar to those worn by monks. But he was not a monk, nor a priest. He was a man who had dedicated his life to serving the Lord and fighting evil.

This man was Alexander Nevis, also known to many as Alexander, the Good, the Holy Hermit or Brother Alexander. He accepted the names applied to him, though he followed no church-designated vocation and simply called himself Alexander. He stood above the church leaders, with their elaborate hierarchy and endless interpretation of scripture and elaboration of doctrine, and the congregants, whose concept of theology was lacking to the point of nonexistence. Although some looked upon him with fear or distrust, many more recognized him as an honest, compassionate and religiously devoted man who would listen to them and help them find their way to salvation.

Alexander the Good, as Jennifer’s servants called him, was always working against evil and trying to help the people whose only power was in their devotion to God. He saw how the rich and powerful often used the poor, the lost and the disadvantaged to their own purpose without much regard for the suffering they inflicted. But what he heard from the servants was something more detestable still. From what he could make of their stories, a tall, dark-haired and well-dressed man named Mr. Morrow had been to the house to see Mistress Jennifer when she was alone. They noted that her husband was away on a business trip and that the visits by the somewhat younger and quite handsome young man seemed a little improper, especially when they sent all the servants away and went into the back room.

They mentioned the young woman named Jane who their mistress had said came for spiritual renewal and to cleanse herself of sin. But one of the servant girls who could not control her curiosity had managed to get close enough to the back room’s door to hear the sound of a whip and the cries of Miss Jane. The servant did not stay there long, fearful that she might be discovered. After she rushed back to the kitchen, where most of the other servants were gathered, she told them everything, embellishing only slightly where she felt it was needed.

Alexander listened to this story with a deeply furrowed brow. He asked the women to keep him informed. Meantime, he planned to investigate the background of this Jack Morrow fellow. Of Jennifer, he already knew plenty. She had been a beauty since childhood and, perhaps partly as a result of that, she was spoiled and egoistic. As young Jennifer Lauderdale, she had cavorted with many a male and, at times, female classmate. This was known because the nuns who taught at her school were scandalized by her behavior. Finally, they brought everything they knew and every rumor they had heard to her father, a rich, but somewhat rough character, who doted on his daughter, but at the same time was angry when her transgressions brought disgrace on the family.

After being fully informed by the nuns of what crimes Jennifer had committed, he took her to her room and told her to stand by the foot of her bed.. She complied and looked at him with a curious smile, not seeming to fear him. He then asked the two servant women who had accompanied them to go to the other side of the bed and then reach over and each take hold of one of Jennifer's hands and hold them tightly by the wrist. Jennifer was soon stretched across her bed by the strong servant girls, with her father standing behind her. The large, muscular man then removed his frock coat and brought out a leather belt. He told his daughter what he had learned of her activities at school and asked her if these stories were true. She answered in the affirmative, with a proud, brazen voice that startled the servant girls.

These witnesses said Jennifer took the first blows stoically and did not cry, but after a few more, she began to yelp and cry, even scream. Finally her father thought it was enough. He told her that he hoped she would now refrain from wanton excesses that could tarnish the family's standing in the community. He then nodded to the servant women who let go of Jennifer. But before her father left, the maids were astonished to see her smile through her tears and look towards her father, not in anger or fear, but with a loving gaze. She thanked him for what he had done.

That story, as it made the rounds, developed a few variances. In one, she thanked her father for saving her from the temptations of Satan. In another, she was possessed by Satan, who mocked the father and his inability to save his daughter. In yet another, spoken in whispers only among a few, she was sexually aroused by her beating and perhaps sought a conjugal and blatantly incestuous relationship with her father. Alexander had heard all the versions, but did not know which to believe. Unlike most others in the community, Alexander was prone to find out what truth there was to the story through direct investigation. So he sought out one of the women employed at the Lauderdale mansion. She led him to one of the servant girls who had been in the room. After hearing her story, Alexander thought it possible that Jennifer was Satan or had been possessed by a demon.

But Alexander had no way to enter the household and speak directly with Jennifer or her father. So, he bided his time and waited for the right opportunity outside her house. That came during a Sunday mass, when she, her younger brother and sister and her parents sat in the same pew in the church, with Jennifer at the far end, away from the entrance path, but accessible to the path on the other side. After a few minutes, he saw her slip out of the pew and out the side door to the church. There she walked around a statue of the Virgin Mary, set in a small garden.

When he came upon her, she turned and looked straight at Alexander with a proud and wicked smile. She showed no fear of him and seemed amused by his presence.

“I suppose you think I should still be in church, listening to the whole boring proceeding,” she said.

“That is your choice, “ replied Alexander, “I cannot compel you to do anything in defiance of your free will, and I believe you have a will that is stronger than most and not easily challenged.”

She flashed a wistful smile at him and walked around to the other side of the statue. He followed her only so far as to maintain eye contact with her. She gave him a flirtatious smile and spun around in a dance in which she whirled fast and brought her skirt up enough for him to catch a glimpse of her legs.

But Alexander held firm and fixed his gaze on her. She danced a little more and then, seeing that she was having no effect, stopped abruptly and looked away from him. He walked a pace or two closer and then spoke in a soft voice.

“You are playing a dangerous game, young Jennifer,” he said. “I cannot help you get out of the trap you are in, I can only tell you what I know of such traps and the misery that lies within it. You are quite well known now for your wanton behavior and I have even heard various versions of the story about how your father punished you. Perhaps in some perverse way you enjoyed that. I cannot say. But you should know that this path you have chosen leads to darkness and ruin. Each pleasure you enjoy leaves you wanting something greater or at least something more perverse. But, Jennifer, it is the same as eating a delicious cake. You only eat so much and enjoy so much before you are sated and cannot eat more. I am willing to provide you guidance and I can pray for you, but only you can put an end to your enslavement by overwhelming desires. This domination will lead to damnation.”

“Oh, how clever,” she replied with a smile. “You must know something of desire. You walk around under that hooded garb acting as if God were your constant companion. But I know you must pleasure yourself under that robe and that even now you are looking at me with lust that defies all your attempts to be righteous and free from sin.”

“You are right about me,” he said calmly. “I do face temptations, like any other man. But I have learned how to control myself so as not to be a slave to impulses that we share with animals. I also know the true path to heaven lies not there in that church, but in your heart. You must reject your cynical, conniving ways and suppress the desires that put the flame to your loins.”

She looked amused and gave him another one of her wicked smiles. As she walked away, she turned briefly to speak to him.

“Your little sermon has stoked the fires of which you spoke,” she said. “After mass is over I am to visit a girl friend who has an attractive younger brother. I have already corrupted her and she provides me great sensual pleasure. But he is now my target and all your speech has done is made me more determined to recruit him into the garden of pleasures I have discovered.”

With that, she walked briskly back to the church, leaving him standing alone in the garden. He knew there was nothing he could do about her, but he spent some time with her servants, advising them on how to behave in her presence. He could almost accept her corruption of another child of wealth and privilege, but he wanted to defend these girls from poor families who needed to work in the same house with this wretched young woman. At the same time he knew that his nighttime dreams were likely to be about Jennifer, her slender body, her long, flowing blonde hair and her red lips smiling, kept moist by the tongue that licked them and invited him to step forth and be her slave.
 
Chapter Five

A couple of weeks after Jack began his treatment of Jane, Jennifer found another young woman who she thought would be perfect for his venture. Her name was Madeleine. She was only 19 years old, but she was intelligent, graceful and beautiful. Her body was slender and her breasts were like inverted cups on her chest. They were large enough to arouse a man seeing them, Jennifer thought, but not so heavy and large as Jane’s. For that matter, Jennifer thought, lifting her bosom while gazing in the mirror in her bedroom, Madeleine’s breasts were only about half the size of her own.

In her initial examination of Madeleine, Jennifer also noted that her legs were long and thin and so were her feet. The feet were nicely arched and her long toes were even and without blemish. Her ankles were well defined and lovely to watch while she walked or danced for Jennifer’s amusement.

The thing that Jennifer liked the most about this girl was her innocence. She was pure as a spring breeze and seemed incapable of any malice. Every story Jennifer heard about this lovely creature involved her self denial, her charity and her generosity. It would be so thrilling to see her grimacing in pain.

What gave Jennifer leverage over Madeleine was something wrong that Madeleine had done to help another. Being trusted by all the merchants in the town market, she was sometimes able to procure an extra apple or loaf of bread without anyone seeing her, except one merchant who watched her, but said nothing to anyone. She had not stolen from him and he was vigilant so that she never would.

Madeleine knew this was theft, but her motive was beneficent. She had come to pity an old lady who had been cast out of the house where she had been employed after her arthritis made it impossible for her to take on physical labor. The poor old woman was slowly starving in the only shelter she could find, a small hut at the edge of town that had left been abandoned long ago.

Madeleine brought her whatever food she could and spent time talking with her. This went on for some weeks until the old woman was drenched by heavy rain that shot right through the old and damaged roof of the hut. The roads around the area were flooded for the whole of the next two days. Tree branches had fallen on some houses. Others had wind damage. A man was walking down the road assessing damage a few days after the storm when he noticed the fallen down hut. He went over to it and found the body of the old woman beneath the scraps of wood that had fallen once the roof gave in. But he reckoned it was not that that killed her; it was most likely the exposure to cold after being drenched with rain. What a pity, he thought.

Madeleine was in tears when she heard the news. She blamed herself for not doing more. In her grief, she told her mother about the thefts she had committed to help the old lady. Being lower class, with no influence in the world makes life not only difficult, but at times complicated. Her mother had already been informed of the thefts by the observant merchant, but she said she did not believe him and that no one else would either because her daughter had a reputation as a good girl, a pious girl. Now this good girl had confessed her crimes to her. Granted her motive was pure, but the whole family could suffer if the wily merchant decided to denounce them.

The mother worked as a servant for Jennifer’s cousin, Marie, who lived in another, less gilded area of the city, quite close to the church. The mother had gone to Marie to ask for guidance, for Marie was also known for her charity and compassion. Marie had told her not to worry, she would have a word with the merchant. Marie did just that, telling him that the matter had been handled and that if he had suffered any loss, she would compensate him. The man had already stated that he had kept a wary eye on the girl and therefore lost nothing, but he asked for a certain amount anyway. Marie was offended by this dishonest , contemptible behavior, so she gave him half of what he asked for and told him he was lucky she hadn’t taken the matter to the authorities, for his crime was certainly far worse than that of Madeleine. The man looked at her cravenly, but he took the money.

Marie had told Jennifer the whole story to provide an example of how sinful some people are. She also praised Madeleine, who was now looking for work. Marie could not afford another servant, so she suggested that Jennifer consider hiring her. Jennifer thought the idea over and then her wicked smile flashed on her face, but too quickly for Marie to notice.

“I am not sure I can take on anyone else, either,” said Jennifer, “but I would like to at least meet this saintly girl and see if there is some way of fitting her in here.”

Marie was very thankful and agreed to have Madeleine come for an interview the very next week. Jennifer then sent a message to Jack, telling him that another lamb could be on its way to him.

When Jennifer saw Madeleine she realized how sweet and charming she was right from the first. Everything Marie had said about her was true. She was also impressed with the girl’s intelligence. She almost considered telling Jack that he couldn’t have this one. But she was too perfect. Seeing such an innocent young woman suffer would drive Jack wild, she knew. Part of her also wanted to see her in pain, but another part of her wished to protect her and enjoy her company. But if Jennifer was torn by this decision, she wasn’t in discomfort very long.

Jennifer hired the girl for a limited time to help maintain the garden. Then she arranged to have Jack visit. Together they strolled out into the garden to watch Madeleine at work. Jack was immediately taken with the girl. He quickly devised a tactic and told Jennifer she must play her part well. When they had gone over it a few times, both of them walked over to the rose patch, where Madeleine was now trimming away weeds and briars. She wore heavy leather gloves, but still she had scratches on her wrists and forearms that bore testimony to the difficulty of the task.

Jack approached her with a stern look and Jennifer spoke humbly and seriously to her.

“Madeleine, this man has come to help us regain the path of righteousness from which we have strayed. I am following his instructions and will deliver myself to pain and torment in order to compensate for sins I committed, but for which I never paid. I have told him of your sins and he has agreed to keep the devil from eating your soul.”

Madeleine looked at them with sorrowful eyes. How many people knew of her transgressions? How shameful must she look in the eyes of the Lord, she thought. She welcomed the idea of redemption and she, blasphemous as the thought may have been, wanted to imitate Jesus by taking on the sins of others and paying for them. It was probably that notion that caused her to obey in silence every command Jack gave her.

Noticing the rose bushes and their sharp thorns, Jack told Madeleine to take off her shoes. Then he ordered her to remove her skirt, then her blouse. Madeleine now stood naked except for a loin cloth, but she made no attempt to hide herself or to express shame in any way. She gazed ahead at Jack as if she were mesmerized.

Jack then told her to walk in through the tangle of rose bushes, vines, briars and sharp rocks and continue her work there. The girl did as she was told without hesitation. A thorn scratched her left shoulder as she entered the tangle. She used her tools to cut away the vines, but every movement put her in contact with thorns. She quickly had scratches and bleeding cuts on both arms and both legs. Her breasts were also scratched and one vine had caught her at the collar bone, leaving a long angry red slash from which some blood flowed down over her breasts.

Each step was painful as from time to time she misjudged her step and brought a foot down on a jagged rock. The tops of her feet and her ankles were also scratched and bleeding now. But she continued without complaint. Jack and Jennifer watched through the foillage as well as they could, marveling at the girl’s endurance. Then a vine caught in her hair and she tried to remove it, it slid across her face leaving bleeding cuts on her forehead and right cheek. When she stumbled out with tears in her eyes and blood flowing from at least a dozen cuts Jack looked on in stunned silence.

Then, Madeleine fell on her knees in front of Jack and began to pray. She asked God to forgive her and thanked him for sending this messenger who would help her erase her sins and sins of many others. She finished the prayer and then looked up at Jack with supplicant’s eyes, asking him what she should do next.

Jack grabbed a few of the rose branches that had been removed earlier. With a knife he cut away the thorns at the base of each. Then he took some twine and tied them together. They were supple enough that they should bend when brought down hard on something, or someone. He handed it to Madeleine and she took hold of the improvised handle he had made.
“Do you know what you must do now? He asked.

“Yes,” she said. “As it was done to Jesus, so shall it be done to me.”

“But you must do it yourself,” he said.

She stood and looked him in the eye, then said, “I would rather that you do it to me.”

“No,” he replied, though he longed to comply. “This is your self abnegation, your demonstration to heaven of your willingness to endure pain to renounce your sins.”

With that, she stepped back and took a long swing of the contrived rose branch whip over her shoulder. She followed that blow with others, quite stoically at first, but then her composure broke. She stumbled and fell forward on one knee. Jack and Jennifer could see that her shoulders and back were now covered with blood. She regained her determination and rose to her feet again. Now she brought down the rose branches on her thighs, carving thin red strips into them. Then she raised her left arm and swung the whip with her right hand so that it wrapped around her rib cage. Jack noticed a number of red points on her ribs that soon began dripping blood. She continued with the other side and was now swaying on her feet, a strange being almost entirely red now.

At this point Jack called a halt to the proceedings. Jennifer assisted him in bringing the girl into the house, where two servant girls helped them cleanse and dress the multiple wounds on the unfortunate girl’s body. The servant girls glanced at each other now and then in silent communication, but they said nothing. Jennifer had noticed, though, and she pulled Jack into another room.

“We cant do this anymore here at this house,” she told him. “My husband is due back here at the end of the month. I was going to close it all down before that, but I can see now that there are too many dangers for me having any of this happen here.”

Jack said he understood and told her that he had found a perfect location for his next sessions. He told her not to worry, all would be well. He went to kiss her, but she pulled away. He could see that she was nervous and fearful. He knew that it was time for him to go and he walked to the front door as, behind him down the hall, the two servant girls were helping Madeleine walk to her bed.


*********

Meanwhile, Alexander watched the house from a nearby hill. He could see very little, but
he did see the young girl brought there. He then saw Jack enter. He did not know this lanky
fellow with his long dark hair, his fine suit and his top hat. But he was obviously another
member of the privileged and selfish class. They would use and then abandon young girls
from poor families the same way as they might eat an apple and then toss away the core.
Alexander knew from far too many other cases what might be at stake here, but he had no
idea why Jennifer had recruited both Jane, with whose family he was slightly acquainted, or this
young slip of a girl, who he knew well and knew to be almost a saint in her innocence and
benevolence. He feared something monstrous could result from her being in the home of the
unprincipled and libertine Jennifer Morton. But who was the young man who had arrived there?

What role did he play in Jennifer’s sordid games?
 
Chapter Six

In order to dedicate himself more to this case, Alexander decided to set aside some of his other activities such as prayer gatherings, pilgrimages, and lectures on the sacraments. The priests and bishop approved of his lay ministry, even if they ridiculed his freelance preaching, which never strayed from the theology of the church and yet represented something outside the church and its authority. But, for the most part, he was regarded as a harmless obsessive and ignored. Alexander could count on the church for little support. If he was to involve the church or the legal authorities. he would have to have some sort of evidence. Making unsubstantiated allegations against members of high society was a sure way for him to lose all credibility and find himself persecuted by the very church to which he was so devoted.

He needed to carry out his own investigation. He needed to find proof that Jennifer and perhaps the young man coming to her house were carrying out some sort of devlish acts. He felt his first obligation was to help the girls who were being taken in to this satanic ritual and that also offered him the best means of obtaining information on exactly what was going on.

Alexander followed Jane to her home one day after she had left the Morton house limping down the road. Her slow progress allowed him to easily overtake her before she gained entrance to the grounds of her employer’s property, where he would be regarded as an intruder. He walked up beside her and greeted her in a warm, but proper manner.

“Jane,” you seem to be somewhat distressed, he said. “Can I be of any assistance?”

“No,” she said with an embarrassed look on her face. “I am just a little tired, but I appreciate your kind offer. You are Alexander the Good Man, or is it Brother Alexander?”

“You may simply call me Alexander,” he replied. “As for the good, it is what I strive to achieve, but I am no saint, just a struggling sinner like you and everyone else. I am not a brother either, except for my ties to my siblings, two of whom died in childhood and two of whom are now serving the Lord in another land.”

“But I have heard that you are a holy man,” she said.

“I am holy only in the sense that I try to follow the path our Lord Jesus has laid out for us,” he said. “I also try to help the poor and downtrodden as much as I can, in keeping with the teachings of Jesus. That is what brings me to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes, Jane. I know that you have been a visitor in the Morton house and that you are involved in some activity there with Mrs. Morton and a young man who often appears there as well. It may be some work you are doing there or some other thing of no concern, but I have a feeling that you are the victim of some foul enterprise that serves the devil.”

At this, Jane stopped walking and looked at him with a mixture of terror, sorrow, and confusion. She twisted one foot in discomfort and Alexander thought he saw a blood stain on her white stocking. He took the bold move of grabbing her by the shoulders and putting his face close to hers. He could see her wince as he squeezed her shoulders. He ran his hand down her back a little and saw her gasp. He knew that the actions he had taken could easily be misinterpreted by her or anyone who happened to see them, so he quickly let go and stepped back from her.

“Don’t lie to me, Jane, “ he said, not with harshness, but with a pleading tone. “I can tell you have been injured. I suspect that this was done to you either by Madame Jennifer, her male companion, or both.”

“No,” she cried. “I did it all to myself. I punished myself for my sins and they only guided me and helped me repent.”

Alexander shook his head and paced back and forth in front of her. He had known of devout Christians inflicting pain on themselves for various reasons and he had always thought it was an unnecessary obsession. Life provides us with enough suffering, he thought. Such practices could become another form of gratification on some mysterious level and he suspected Jennifer was one of those people who took pleasure in her own suffering, but even more in the suffering of others. He doubted that either she or her accomplice had any interest in helping save souls.

“Who is the young man who comes to the house and takes part in these sessions?” Alexander asked Jane.

“I have heard him called Jack,” she said. “Oh, I just remembered overhearing a servant who was asking Madame something and referred to him as Mr. Morrow.”

“And what role does he play in this?”

“Why, he is my spiritual guide. He describes the actions I must take to imitate the suffering of Christ and drive sin from my soul.”

After she told Alexander about some of the things she had done to herself at the urging of this false prophet, this prurient fiend, Alexander pleaded with her not to ever go again. He told her such things were unnecessary and that the Lord did not expect her to suffer in this way. He had suffered for all mankind so that she and other believers would not have to atone for their sins in such a way. But his words were wasted. She looked panicked and insisted that she must continue, then she sobbed along towards the gated entrance to her employer’s grand estate.

************

The old building Jack had located was perfect. The windows were all blocked and the heavy wooden doors at the entrance were almost impossible to open once they were locked. It would take a battering ram to break through and it would take some time. Jack thought of these things because in the back of his mind there was a little gnawing fear that he might slip up one day and bring the wrath of the law, or worse, the wrath of the populace down on him. In his nightmares an angry mob gathers outside his door as he stands paralyzed, not sure what to do. He calls out for help, but the only people around are the ones who want to kill him. He knows he should run, but he cannot move.

But, in his waking hours, he was much more practically focused. He hired a carriage to transport his devices from Jennifer’s house to this building. He then hired some carpenters to build an inner wall around the open area with its fine marble floors and its Greek columns. It was a very Gothic setting. The inner wall served two purposes: it created a separate place, an inner sanctum, where he could carry out his experiments in total privacy. Even if the police should come, or for that matter, the angry mob in his dream, they would have to break down the big door and then get through the inner wall, by which time, he figured, he would be able to make his escape via a tunnel that ran out under the building to the nearby harbor. He supposed this was part of some drainage system, but for him it was simply an escape that could be used in case of emergency. The other reason he built the inner wall is that it cut down the sound that could be heard outside. The last thing he needed was to have some passerby hear women screaming inside.

The devices he had assembled in the room included a cross, a rack, a whipping post and a St. Andrew’s cross. Oh well, he thought, the important thing is to have equipment to use when you need it. He also had a few chests containing such items as whips, ropes, chains, knives, and various other items that could produce pain if applied right.

He was anxious to try out his new playroom, but Jennifer had been occupied with preparations for her husband’s arrival and he had not figured out how to surreptitiously get both women to his dungeon. The more time that went by, though, the more likely that the spell would be broken and they would no longer react to his demands.
 
Chapter Seven



One night as he walked about the area near his building, a small revolver in his coat pocket, for this was an insecure area, he spotted a small tavern frequented by sailors and dock workers. Then he saw a woman staggering out of the place. She had a flair that he could detect from far away. She flung her long dark hair about and flashed a smile that showed brilliant, large white teeth. He figured she was a prostitute and it took no amount of pondering to see that she was drunk. Some of the men grabbed her by the ass and others tried to kiss her face as she made her way out to the street. She then walked, somewhat clumsily up the same street where he was standing in the shadows. No one was looking her way now and the few men who had been outside the tavern now went back in.



He followed her as she continued walking and soon they were near his building. He then walked briskly up to her and bid her good evening. She looked up at him with a start and then swayed back and forth a moment before he caught her by the arm.



“I can see you need assistance,” he said.



“Naw, leaf me ‘lone, ah down need no ‘sistence,” she said.



“Here, “ he said, “this is my building. Come in and let me help you regain your stability.”



He then took her by the arm and dragged her to the door. He let her flop onto the pavement as he brought forth the key and opened the door. Then he dragged her in. It was pitch dark out, so even if someone were around, he thought, they wouldn’t be able to see what was going on. After they were inside, he closed the massive door and dragged her unconscious body back into the inner sanctum. He looked down on her after lighting some lamps. She was disheveled, dirty and drunk. She was also completely passed out, so he set to work removing her clothes. He threw them in a pile to one side. Then he examined her. Her body was flabby, but her legs were shapely and thin below the knee. Her hips and buttocks were large, but not in an extraordinary way. Her face was somewhat exotic. Maybe she was a Turk, he thought. Her tangle of black hair streaked a bit with grey fell over her face and her shoulders. He thought she would do.



He then attached shackles to her ankles and wrists. He set them tight so that every move would cause the metal to cut into her bones. He then pulled her over to the whipping post and connected a chain from it to her hand shackles. When she awoke, she would find herself helplessly bound and vulnerable to whatever perverse idea might come to him.



It took two hours for her to awaken and she did so slowly, rolling about and trying to sit up without success on the first three attempts. Finally on the fourth, she succeeded in sitting upright and she gazed across the room at him, blinking her eyes. She moved her hands and saw that she was in chains. She looked about and seemed puzzled.



“Jail?,” she asked.



“No, something far worse, I am afraid,” he said.



He gave her water to drink and a chunk of bread to devour. When she seemed fully revived, he pulled her up and fixed her hand chain to a spike high up on the post. She had to stand on her tip toes and her breasts were pressed up against the wood. The manacles had now cut into her wrists and blood was trickling down both arms.



There was a swish through the air behind her followed by the feeling of fire scorching her back. She groaned and said something indecipherable. He didn’t care because he hadn’t brought her here for a chat. Again and again she would hear the swish and then the slap of the leather striking her back. Soon, she began to scream. He smiled because he knew no one could hear her. He was becoming aroused by her cries and the marks he was making on her back.



After a hundred lashes or so, he took her down and dragged her over to the Saint Andrew’s Cross. He pushed her back against the middle and then spread her arms and fastened them one to each side. He then did the same with her feet. It was quite a beautiful sight, he thought, to see spreadeagled here facing him. She remained facing him, looking helpless and confused as he took out a carriage whip and swung it through the air. The lash landed on her left breast and left a terrible cut. He then tried swinging it a bit slower and softer. The lash still left marks, but it did not cut too deeply. But it bothered him to see the trickle of blood come down from her wounded left breast over her ribs and over her waist to her hip. His sense of symmetry was upset. So, he swung the whip hard and hit her right breast as close as he could to the same spot. It left a dark welt, but it did not cut. Frustrated, he swung again, this time coming down right over the welt, which burst with a small flood of red ooze. The woman was screaming in pain, but he paid no attention. He stepped back to look at her and felt much better about the balance he had achieved.



Next, he took her to the rack. With some difficulty, he managed to get her up on it. Then he took off her shackles and fastened the ropes from the rack on her hands and feet. Next, he threw some water in her face to make sure she was conscious and feeling everything. She gasped and cried out. Then he started turning the wheel, wrapping the rope around the big spindle and pulling her upward. Finally, her body was taut and the ropes at her hands and feet were straining to hold her in place. It was a beautiful sight, he thought.



He then lit a small fire in the chimney nearby and waited until it was nice and hot. Then he took some wires and using gloves to hold them put them into the fire. When they were glowing red, he rushed over to the rack and applied them to her flesh. She howled in misery as her flesh burned just above her right breast and on her ribs just below the left breast. He watched with glee for a while and then went back to heat the wires some more. He had made several such trips hearing her screams echoing off the walls when it occurred to him that had never actually tested the wall for its ability to stifle sound. He decided to take advantage of her wailing to go outside. He unlocked the big door and moved out quickly, closing it behind him. He could hear nothing. Satisfied, he went back in and heard her continuous screams. After a few minutes more, she tired and could not issue a complaint even as a whisper.
 
Chapter Seven, Continued...


He checked her heart and looked at her eyes. She seemed to be in shock. He loosened the ropes on the rack and let her body go slack. He looked about and realized that torturing her had served no purpose other than testing his place. He had derived little pleasure from the session. She was not very attractive and she was sloppy, dirty and drunk when he dragged her in. When fully awake she wasn’t much better. She spoke gibberish and didn’t react to the torture the way he thought she should. She either screamed or lay there like a cold fish in a market stall.



As he was contemplating what to do next, he smelled a flow of urine come out of her, followed by a sloppy flow of diarrhea. He fetched his bucket and threw water over her. Then he untied her and made her stand up. He handed her a mop and the bucket. She looked at him with a dimwit’s eyes. He pointed to the mess she had made and she slowly went over to mop it up. The mess disgusted him, but soon she had it cleaned up and had applied some disinfectant that had its own disagreeable odor. As she finished the job, on her hands and knees, he looked at her back, a mass of red welts, crisscrossing her spine and extending up to her shoulders. Her lower back and buttocks were also full of dark welts. He felt quite content that he had done a good job of flogging her.



Later, he helped her get her clothes on and then he took her out into the street. There were few people around, but it made him nervous. He pulled her up to a trolley car station and then took her with him on a trolley heading downtown. When it arrived at the train station, he took her to the freight shipping area. He sat her down in behind some large crates and told her to wait. She was compliant and said nothing. He obtained a large wooden box, partly filled with confetti and set it near the place where she was hidden. Then he gave her some water to drink. He had placed two pills in the water a moment before and he waited to see if they took effect. When they did her head fell to her breast and her whole body slumped. He quickly tied her hands behind her back and put a gag in her mouth. He picked her up and rolled her into the confetti. He then put the lid on the box and nailed it down.



After paying a clerk for the shipping order, he saw that the box was properly labeled and then waited to make sure it was loaded into the freight car. He was delighted to see that it was beneath another large box and that a couple of more were to be set in front of it. Then, it occurred to him that she may not have enough air. The box was not tightly sealed, but still, he thought, it might not allow enough air to enter. He grabbed some tools and quickly ran into the car. One of the workers complained, but he waved him off. He then took a long nail and drove it into the side of the box with a hammer. He then removed the nail and saw that a small hole did go all the way through. He did this a few times more in the same place and then put a couple of holes up near the top. But the workers now grabbed him and threw him out. They placed a large crate in front of his box and he laughed. The clerk and the workers all looked at him as if he were a lunatic.



He walked away smiling, thinking of the package that would soon be a couple of hundred miles away. He had sent it with no return address to a well-known company’s headquarters in that far away city. What would they make of this shipment? They wouldn’t get much out of her since she was clearly mentally deficient. She might not even be able to tell them what had happened to her. In any case, he hadn’t killed her or even raped her. What crime would they claim was committed? But what about the stripes on her back, the burns on her breasts and the chafed wrists and ankles? He calmed his nerves by simply recognizing the low value anyone placed on fellow human beings who were considered to be depraved. It was doubtful anyone would care that a street tramp was beaten or mistreated by some roughs. Things like this happened all the time. He felt certain that nothing would come of it.
 
Wragg said:
Mark, if you could repost chapter eight here then I can go ahead and delete the 'out of order' sections for you.

Thanks

W
Click to expand...
Thank you. I have gone over it again and I hope it pastes on here with no problem. I will probably have to divide it into sections again because of the word limit on these posts.
 
Chapter Eight, Part One

Chapter Eight

Part One

Alexander met with Madeleine and had no more success with her than he had had with Jane. He could see that this wholesome girl had somehow been drawn into the perverted world at Jennifer’s house. He then heard of other young women who had been approached by someone who suggested that they visit the Morton house for an interview. These were not the usual efforts to procure servants. There was talk of spiritual renewal and prayer. This angered Alexander as he could see the shameless Jennifer had now added blasphemy to her long list of sins.​

He decided the time had come to seek help from someone who might take an interest in this strange case and help him prevent more cruelty being inflicted on these young women. The local priest listened to him with a passive stare and did not react in shock to what he was hearing. He told Alexander that his imagination was quite vivid, but that Jennifer Morton was a respected member of the parish and that she and her husband were also generous benefactors. Even if the story had some truth to it, he said, what harm has been done? The girls will have purged themselves of sins, real or imagined, and having not injured themselves very seriously, they could go on to be wives and mothers and grow fat with time.

Alexander next took his story to a local police captain whom he admired and trusted. Lieutenant Ambrose Walker listened with great interest, but had to say that even if the story were true, the women had not been abused by anyone but themselves. As far as the law was concerned, he said, there was no basis for any charge. Still, he told Alexander to maintain his vigil and let him know if the situation should change. Sometimes, he mused, the perpetrators of such crimes lose control and violate their own self-imposed limits. If it could be shown that they had harmed anyone then there would be a case, although not a strong one, given the money these people had at their command. They would surely hire the best lawyers and find a way to throw all the evidence and testimony in doubt. And there was another problem, he said with a sad look in his eyes:

“It is likely, that somewhere along the way, Mrs. Morton or her friend have given money or gifts to these young women,” he said. “Being honest and virtuous, the girls will not deny this, but their having received such gifts could easily be construed as taking payment for services rendered, in which case these two honest and charitable young women will be seen as nothing more than prostitutes.”

Alexander shuddered at the thought of such an injustice. He was discouraged, but not surprised. He knew he was up against powerful, wealthy people, as well as Satan, whose power was even greater. He vowed to keep up his vigil and his efforts to save these girls from whatever dismal and painful end awaited them. Unfortunately, he arrived at his observation point near Jennifer’s house too late to intervene. He saw the two women escorted out to a coach, which then took them away quickly. He could not possibly follow it and he fell down in despair, overwhelmed by his failure.

It was only two days before her husband’s arrival when Jennifer contacted Jack and told him arrangements had been made. This use of the passive troubled him. Who had made the arrangements and what did they entail? Although he literally had entrusted Jennifer with his life, he also knew from experience that she could be crafty and that her number one priority would always be Jennifer.

The lack of details vexed him, but he had no alternative than to wait. He busied himself cleaning up his work place and checking again the tunnel. He needed a lantern for the first hundred feet or so, but after that he could see the light from the opening to the harbor. He examined the hole, large enough for two or three men to crawl out of at the same time. The bottom of the large aperture was about three feet off the tunnel floor. That would require some lifting, but it was manageable. He jumped up and took a look out over the harbor. Trees and grass that grew on the bank from which the tunnel emerged, obscured the opening to some extent from view. The bank extended below the opening for only a matter of inches before there was water. He wondered how deep it was. Was the current strong? If he needed to, say, dispose of a body, would it work?

He shuddered at the thought. He was not one for killing. Something about the finality of it all made him morose. He always wanted a fresh start for his stories. He wanted the woman to suffer hours of torture, but then be taken out of a box in a new city and given the chance to become a different, even a better person. He chuckled at the boldness, even to the point of stupidity, of his sendoff for the alcoholic prostitute, for whom he really did wish the best. Women like that would always be able to ply their trade, in this city or another, it made no difference.

He had a similar feeling for his two Christian women. He would not want to hurt them so badly that they were left maimed or crippled. That thought made him nauseous. He pictured them both moving forward from this experience more enlightened, better educated, you might say. Although the treatment was harsh and done for his own amusement, there was also a modicum of charity in it. These women would benefit a great deal from the pain they would endure. They might even replace their dedication to a supernatural being conjured up by priests with wisdom and an appreciation for the pleasures of life while they can be had.

Later, another message came from Jennifer. She would be unable to come herself, but she was sending both women to him in a carriage tonight. He should keep watch at his front door so as to hurry them inside immediately. She also gave him a cryptic warning: “Beware the mad monk. He has come out of the shadows and spoken to those who maintain the laws of God as well as the laws of men.”

It was not like Jennifer to compose such an oblique message. Who on earth is the “mad monk” he wondered. Then there was the next sentence, which was easily understood. This person had evidently found out something about his little attempt to save souls and had gone to the church authorities as well as the police. But what could he possibly know? Why would the police want to be involved, unless…

Jack was now seized by the notion that one of the women had betrayed him. One of them perhaps spoke with this monk and gave him sufficient information to call in the police. But he and Jennifer had been very careful not to do anything to these girls. They had only watched as the girls hurt themselves. It was under his guidance, certainly, but they had done it all to themselves without his intervention, as much as he would have enjoyed that. Then he thought of the prostitute. Had the monk somehow been hiding in the shadows and observed him take the woman into his building? Had he seen him at the train station with her? What if he had been able to locate the wretch and convince her to tell her story to the authorities?
 
Chapter Eight, Part Two


Part Two​

By the time the carriage brought thParte two young women to his door, Jack’s mind had worked up a fierce storm of paranoia. He was more determined than ever to go forward with the session, but in a different way than had been originally planned.

To prepare for their arrival, he had placed a crucifix on one wall and put up printed pictures of both Jesus and the Virgin Mary. He thought that would give it the right religious atmosphere and lend credence to his preaching about wiping away sin through suffering. He also lit a number of candles in various parts of the room. They added to the religious setting and also provided nice warm light for the proceedings that were about to commence.

When the two women stepped inside, he guided them in with a lantern in his hand and made sure that both the large outer door and the door to the inner sanctum were closed and locked. He had the women disrobe immediately. In the flickering candlelight their bodies looked exceedingly smooth and creamy. He could see a degree of apprehension in the older woman’s eyes, but Madeleine seemed calm and poised. She was like a believer in line waiting to receive communion. Her faith and her religious fervor made her seem almost anxious to assume the suffering that had been inflicted on her savior.

He started by putting them face to face with the whipping post in between. Though they seemed puzzled, they meekly went along with his preparations. Then he tied their hands and pulled tight the rope around the iron bars up high on each side. He noticed that both had their heels off the floor, but since their soles were at least partly in contact with the cold cement floor, they were not forced to stand on their toes. This would give them the flexibility to move up and down a little with each lash. He then tied a rope around them at waist level. This pushed them up against the rough wood of the post. He could see that Madeleine’s soft breasts were already scratched somewhat just from being drawn in against the rough hewn wood.

They looked at him perplexed. What was his plan? How would they punish themselves in this position?

Jack then spoke calmly, but with a slight quiver in his voice. He told them he had received information about a certain monk who had spoken with them and that they had then gone with the monk to the priests and to the police. Based on what they had said, the police were now apparently interested in his crusade to save the damned. What unfairness! What betrayal!

Madeleine and Jane both swore they had not revealed anything to the monk and that they had certainly not gone to the police. He walked over and looked into each one’s eyes, seeking an indication of mendacity.

“It is clear that at least one of you has betrayed me,” he said. “Just as Judas betrayed Jesus, one of you, or maybe both of you, have done so to me. You both acknowledged speaking to this monk.”

“Alexander,” said Jane. “He is known to everyone as a good man. He tried to convince us not to come, but we came anyway.”

“Yes,” added Madeleine, “we are committed to this holy project and want to remove our sins by suffering self-inflicted pain, as you described it. But the way you have cruelly tied us together at this post worries me.”

“Hah!” he cried. “And well it should worry you, my little Madeleine. For tonight I will do the punishing. I will relieve you of the burden of carrying out this task by yourselves. I will take on the strenuous physical labor that will be necessary to pull the truth from your lips!”

He then moved a lantern over nearer to the post so that he might see clearly the damage he was about to impose on the bare flesh of these two females. He brushed his hand over each of their backs and got a slight thrill out of seeing them flinch at his touch. He then took a long, single-tail leather whip and dragged it gently across each one’s back and shoulders. He moved their long hair forward around their necks so as to expose the entire back.

He stood awhile and marveled at how well each had healed from previous sessions. Then he snapped the whip a few times just to see them jump with fear. He laughed at their reaction and then spoke to them in a grand oratorical style.

“My dear ladies,” he said, “you are here for the culmination of your journey towards piety and the love of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Your sins have been erased and now you will enter another realm of existence, one which few people are privileged to experience. By fully accepting the same cruel punishments that were inflicted on Him, you will experience an ecstasy of holiness that only the martyr saints have had. You must be brave, as they were, and take on the pain and suffering as a gift that will transport you to this new life of divine inspiration.”

He then sent the whip high over their heads and let it wrap around the post just above the iron rings to which they were bound. It whistled as it sailed through the air and hit the post with a shock they could feel. The tail then went around, held for a moment and then slinked off. He then walked behind Madeleine and stroked her slender body from her shoulder blades to her waist and then down her buttocks.

“I look at your bare back, my dear, and I see it as the canvas upon which I shall paint my masterpiece. Perhaps I will call it ‘A Study in Crimson’ or maybe something to do with stripes. Maybe I should include your name. But it doesn’t matter because no one will ever see it, but me. Someone may see your scars, but not the original version. Oh, and yes, there will be scars this time. This time there will be no gentleness or mercy for either of you.”

Jane was now weeping and moaning. She swore that she had said nothing to Alexander and asked to be set free. She said she no longer wished to participate. But he told her that it was too late for that and that she might as well take it bravely and gain the grace and blessings that would come rather than complain and act cowardly. To his delight and surprise, Madeleine now spoke.

“Jane, our suffering here will not last long,” she said, “and it will be nothing compared to the sacrifice that was made by our Lord Jesus. We must concentrate on that and be thankful that we are being allowed to feel some of His pain.”

Jack was somewhat taken aback by this statement, but he needed to get things underway. He couldn’t help but wonder if her statement implied that she had been the one to assist the monk in his effort to bring the law down on him. He threw the whip over his shoulder and then brought it forward as hard as he could. It swished and whistled as it flew to its target, the middle of Madeleine’s unblemished smooth back. It made a terrible crack as it landed and he heard a loud sob. He saw that it was Jane who had reacted to the fearsome act being carried out on her companion. Madeleine stood silent with a dark red welt forming down her back.

He studied it a while and thought how beautiful it looked. Then he brought the whip back again and it fell across her upper back and left shoulder. He saw her jump and squirm, but still heard no cry or complaint. He wondered how much it would take to break her and hear her confess. But then he found a strange current go through him. He cared not about this monk fellow or the police. He now saw the opportunity to carry out one of his deepest and darkest desires.

He would severely challenge each woman’s devotion and make them renounce their religion and their God. He carried out the next few strokes more rapidly and saw Madeleine twist and wriggle with an involuntary spasm. At last he heard her cry out. Jane’s face was now contorted in anguish and fear, but Madeleine, through gasps for air, spoke to her calmly, telling her not to be afraid.

Jack found this to be a challenge to his ability with the whip, so he grabbed the scourging whip he had made and laid it on her frail body with a ferocity that came from somewhere deep inside his soul, if he had such a thing. Each lash now left bloody gashes on Madeleine’s body, from her ankles to her arms. The only part he avoided was the head and neck. He did not want his pleasure to be cut short by her going unconscious or dying.

By now Madeleine was screaming in pain and her whole body trembled violently. Jack decided to move to the other side and give Jane what she had been anticipating all the while that he had been destroying the flesh of her companion. Jane stared ahead into the face of the girl, a mere child, she thought. The pretty face she had seen smiling so often was now contorted in pain. But Jane’s study of Madeleine’s ended when she heard the wail of the long whip behind her and felt a bolt of lightning tear into her body.

The blow had been so hard that it took her breath away and she had to suck in more air to even scream. The next stroke hit her lower back and the air came out of her in a hoarse yelp. She had hardly enough time to recover from that when another lash came, wrapping around her rib cage just below her shoulder blades, stopped only by the post. She felt a searing pain from her back and around to the front of her rib cage and cried out in agony. Soon another lash wrapped around part way around and left an angry welt on her left breast. After a few more lashes, Jack moved over a bit and sent his lashes to her other side, leaving a bloody wound across her shoulder blades and a dark welt on her right breast. He had only landed a few more strokes when her body slumped. He saw that she had fainted, so he took a cup of water from the nearby basin and threw it in her face.

Gasping for air, Jane came back to consciousness and felt the fiery pain of every lash he had laid on her. Her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets and she seemed almost mad in her facial contortions. In a fiery wave of lust and emotional excitement, Jack threw down the long whip and picked up the scourging whip again. Each lash now drove Jane to shake savagely and twist about. When Jack had tired, he put down the whip and walked over to inspect his work. On the opposite side of the post, Madeleine stood firm, though her face was still showing anguish and tears streamed down her cheeks. On this side he saw that Jane had slumped down again, but she was conscious. She moaned and trembled, but did not speak.

Jack then began preparations for the next and most important part of the session, the crucifixion. He could see that Jane would not be suitable for the artistic portrayal he had in mind, so he untied her from the post and dragged her body to the Saint Andrew’s cross, the saltire. He yelled in her ear demanding that she stand. She feebly raised the weight of her blood-streaked body up and he pulled her arms up, fastening each to the top of its respective side on the device. He then fastened her feet below.

“You will remain here for a time, my dear Jane, “ he said. “But don’t worry, I have other games I want to play with you.”

“I swear, I di-did not be-betray you!” she said in a hoarse whisper.

“I know,” he said. “Or maybe I just don’t care anymore. The police may come, the dark monk may come, but it won’t matter. By then you will be left there limp and bloody as a piece of meat at the market.”
 
Final part of Chapter Eight. Limit on words in posts vexes me, but you should be able to follow the story this way.


He then went to Madeleine and took her down from the post. He held her with an arm wrapped round her waist to help her walk. She was unable to walk of her own volition and she was sticky with blood everywhere he touched. He had placed the large wooden cross on the floor with a heavy chain attached to the top of the stipe. The other end of the chain was attached to a thick metal cable that wrapped around a winch some distance away. He would use this to lift the cross into place once he had her on it.

Madeleine was sitting on the floor next to the cross looking exhausted from the beating her body had taken. She looked at the rough wooden beam and said nothing. Jack then went over to check on Jane, who was still moaning, but otherwise seemed to be handling her agony well. He then stepped over to some boxes and pulled out a few items including some of the rose branches from Jennifer’s garden that he had obtained on one of his visits. They were thin and flexible and full of sharp, but small thorns. He wasn’t able to acquire any of the long twig-like thorns so often shown on the head of the suffering Jesus. But he figured these would do and that they would provide a bit of wicked irony for Madeleine, who would surely perceive their origin in the garden she once tended and appreciate his gesture.

After he had used pliers and some wire to form the thorny branches into a crown and made sure it would not come apart, he brought it over to Madeleine and showed it to her. Her eyes were dull and seemed to have lost some of their previous luster. He wondered if her devotion remained intact. So, he put a finger under he chin and brought her eyes up to his.

“Are you still committed to this journey, Madeleine?” he asked. “We don’t have to go on if you have decided that your devotion was a mistake. All you have to do is renounce Jesus and swear that you will leave religion behind. You will then embark on a new life, totally absent of prayer and devoted only to carnal pleasures.”

Through the haze that clouded her mind she heard his words. She was weary and only barely able to endure the pain she felt from almost every square inch of her skin. Some of the worst pain came from areas of her back where the skin had actually been torn away. But deep inside her came the desire to continue. Partly it was her stubbornness and her commitment to her savior that gave her the courage to carry on and partly it was a strange desire to suffer these cruelties. Even as she sat there overwhelmed with pain she could feel a warmness in her crotch that she relished, yet did not understand. She was still a virgin and had little knowledge of sex, but the impulse to explore this desire moved her to accept the final torment.

Jack then placed the crown of thorns on her head and used his tools to grasp it and pull it down tight over the top of her head. He could see that the small thorns were not going to achieve the desired effect, so he pushed the crown into her forehead and moved it back and forth a little. This produced a few scratches, but not enough in his opinion. So he pulled out a knife and used it to make a few small punctures in the skin of her forehead just behind where the crown rested. To his satisfaction three streams of blood flowed down over her her face. It dribbled down her nose and reddened her lips. It dripped from her chin onto her breast. There, it mingled with the blood and gore that had resulted from the brutal whipping.

He then pulled her down on the cross, stretched out her arms and tied her hands to the crossbeam. Next, he tied her arms to the beam, looping rope around the upper arm just short of the elbow. He thought this might help hold her weight as she hung on the diabolically simple torture device. Then he brought out a hammer and two long, thin nails. He had obtained these from a carpenter who had worked on his inner sanctum. He was anxious to see how they would work. He went to her left hand and pushed the sharp point of the nail into the middle of her hand. This is how it had been depicted in all the paintings he had seen and this is how he wanted it to be. He then brought the hammer down on the nail and drove it through her tender flesh. She screamed as he did it and kept screaming as he pounded it further in to the wood. He then repeated the action with her other hand, but she was now so exhausted from screaming that she could only cry and kick her feet.

He looked down at her feet and said, “Don’t worry, my lovelies, I am coming to you now.”

As he got up to retrieve two more nails he looked down at her heaving chest and her anguished face. His tableau was coming together nicely, he thought. Now he moved to her feet, which were still moving about in an expression of unsupportable pain. He grabbed the left one by the ankle and brought it up so that the knee was slightly bent. He calculated the distance and figured this would be a position that would allow her to raise herself now and then to inhale more air. She would rise and then drop down again, over and over. He would be able to sit in front of the cross and watch this go on and on. He had some trouble holding her foot still, but he managed to keep it in place as he punched a nail into the middle between the second and third bones. That particular place looked right to him. Above all, he relished symmetry.

Lost in a fog of pain, Madeleine felt the nail in her foot as just one of many points of crisis. Her nervous system was almost overloaded. She grew somewhat faint and stopped moving. Seizing his chance, Jack made sure the foot was in the proper position and then struck the nail with the hammer to carry it through. But it did not take hold in the wood and her leg now came up and swung about, almost kicking him. He grabbed it again, noticing where the sharp point protruded from the instep, about an inch down from the sole. He brought it down again, checked the position and then quickly hammered the nail into the wood.

The next foot was easier as she had again gone faint. He managed to get the nail through the same place as the other foot, maintaining the symmetry. When all was set, he went back to the winch and brought the cross up almost to a standing position and there it stopped. He couldn’t seem to get it higher, so he walked around to see if something was stuck. With only the glow of the lantern and the candles he could not detect what the problem was.

Then he looked at Madeleine stretched out on the cross, bleeding from hands and feet. Her whole body was torn and bleeding, including her face, now almost totally covered with blood. He didn’t really like the look of that, so he went and fetched a rag. He used the ladder to go up and wipe some of the blood away. Her eyes rolled over to look at him. Her expression was calm and he felt a frisson go through him. It would have been better if she were still wincing in pain, he thought. There was something ethereal about this girl’s endurance and her commitment to this act of devotion, or what he had convinced her was an act of devotion.

It annoyed him to think of Jennifer’s warning about the monk and the police. There was sudden small noise from the other side of the inner wall and he raced to the entrance, his pistol in his hand. He couldn’t quite explain it, but thought he saw movements in the shadows. He thought he heard whispers outside the main door. His nerves were causing him to lose control of himself. Finally he came back in and dropped down on the floor in front of the cross. It was only a few degrees from being totally vertical and it was probably better this way since she would be less likely to fall forward. He imagined that possibility with horror— the flesh of the hands ripping apart as they pulled away from the nails, the rope failing to hold her and her body slipping down and then falling forward, the feet tearing away from the nails with a ghastly rip. The thought made him shiver.

After observing Madeleine’s passion on the cross for several minutes he remembered Jane and went over to check on her. She had swooned. He slapped her face and pried open her eyes, which stared up blankly. He ran over to the basin and filled the cup with water. He splashed it in her face and she awakened with wide eyes and gasping for air.

Realizing that the wounds he had inflicted on them were too extensive to allow them to return home for a matter of weeks, he faced a grim decision. They would have to die. This complicated everything, he thought. How was he to dispose of the bodies? There were people who had seen them together, like the servants at Jennifer’s house and there was the carriage driver who had brought both women to his building earlier in the evening. How would he handle interrogation by the police? Would the wild-eyed monk be there to torment him as well?

Just then, he heard Madeleine moan more loudly. He wanted her to stay alive as long as possible. He brought a cup of water to her lips and she drank a few gulps. Her eyes followed him as he stepped down and stood in front of the cross. He felt weirdly uncomfortable as her gaze remained fixed on him. Then she spoke to him.

“I am dying for your sins,” she said.

He stepped back, startled by the clearness of her statement. Although he did not believe in the supernatural, he was spooked nonetheless. He thought he heard something move behind him and rushed over into the darkness holding the hammer. But there was nothing there. He then heard her wriggle on the cross and gasp. Her eyes were now wild and wide open. Her suffering now was splendid, he thought.
 
Chapter Ten (part one)​

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When he called at Jennifer’s house later that morning he was freshened up, but in bad need of sleep. Still, he knew that he had to consult her about this business or he might never be able to sleep restfully again. She received him on the patio by the garden where she was having coffee and pastries. He realized that he was hungry when he saw the delectable baked delights and welcomed them as well as the good, strong coffee.



Jennifer looked at him with pondering eyes. When she was sure that no sneaky servant was close by, she spoke to him in a low voice and asked him how things had gone with the two holy women. He hesitated to tell her and stammered a bit as he spoke of the general spirit of the undertaking, the whippings, the crucifixion and the beauty of the tableau he had created with them.



She frowned and asked him why he had now gone to directly abusing these women when he had said initially that he would only induce them to hurt themselves. He admitted that he had taken a chance, but that it was far more satisfying for him to carry out the punishments than it was to watch them do it to themselves. He explained how soundproof and private his building had become and he spoke of the recently built inner sanctum and its advantages.



“But there is something more you need to tell me,” she said with a serious frown.



“Well, yes,” he said, unable to look into her face. “I am afraid something went wrong and both of the women expired.”



Jennifer fell back in her chair with a look of shock. He squirmed in his seat and tried to take another sip of coffee, but she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. She then guided him to the back of the garden, where they had spoken before without fear of being overheard. She demanded to know every detail and he provided it all, right down to the macabre actions he took to make the corpses difficult to identify.



She walked back and forth on the path, lost in thought. He sat on the little bench and wished he could go back and finish his coffee. At last she stopped and sat down beside him.



“As I see it,” Jennifer said, looking straight into his face and not allowing him to look away, “the first problem will come when the families realize they are missing. If two female bodies have been found in the harbor, the police are likely to connect the cases. On the other hand, the police have been known to be dismissive of missing persons reports that come from people with little money or influence. But there could be a problem with the church and that mad monk, Alexander, who keeps poking around.”



“These were both women known for their devotion,” she continued as Jack munched on the one small pastry he was able to grab before she pulled him away from the table.



“They attended mass every morning and they were involved in many charity projects. If they haven’t shown up by tomorrow, the clergy and the whole congregation will march to the police station. The authorities will be forced to organize an investigation and a search.”



He nodded along and wondered what conclusion she was seeking from these speculations. Should he remain calm or should he run?



“Another problem,” she said, “is that bodies seen floating in the harbor are quickly retrieved. You would have been better off burning them or at least dumping them somewhere else.”



“But that was out of the question,” he exclaimed. “What was I to do, seek out a carriage for hire and ask if it would be alright to bring along my two dead lady friends?”



For the first time this morning he was relieved to see Jennifer’s wicked smile.



“Yes, I see your conundrum there,” she said. “But maybe you should have waited until today and then found some way of transporting them in a freight box or something.”



He thought of his previous experience with the drunken woman, whom he had dispatched as freight to a far away destination. But then, he thought, doing that little trick one more time might have been his downfall. But there must have been something else he could have done.



“Well, it really doesn’t matter now,” said Jennifer. “We are in this predicament and we must find a way out.”



Hearing her use the word “we” relieved him, for he was afraid that she might have told him that this was all his fault and that he would have to deal with it on his own. He would have then had to remind her of her role in this perverse game and that she had selected these women. In fact, his first sessions with them were at her house. But her nod to mutual responsibility reassured his belief that they were allies.



“Here is the first move we must make in this game,” she said. “You will have to leave the city on an overseas trip to somewhere far away— Brazil or the South Seas. We can discuss that later. My husband has interests in a number of shipping companies and he could be persuaded to get you aboard a vessel as a guest passenger. Many of the vessels have a few cabins available for guests. So, if any suspicion arises, you will be gone like a ghost. You can then operate under an assumed name somewhere until I can communicate with you and let you know that the danger has passed.”



That is a rather extreme plan, “ he said. “I have never traveled abroad and I will miss the comforts I enjoy here.”



“Hah!” she answered. “You are unlikely to enjoy your silly comforts in prison and they will do you no good on the day you meet the hangman!”



“Of course, you are right,” he said, feeling sheepish for having said such a stupid thing.



“The other problem we need to address is the connection I had to these girls, however brief it was, “ Jennifer continued. “No one will suspect me of murdering them, surely, but the police might think I know where they went and who might have murdered them. We will need to develop a solid story that will throw them off track and we should do it right away, before any tumult begins. Ah! Here it is: If I were to take on a leading role on this issue, I would be seen as one of the good people trying to help find the missing young women. I would have seized the high moral ground that the priests usually mount. I may even leave the sanctimonious monk in the dust.”



Within hours, Jennifer had carried out this scheme. She contacted the church and asked if the two had been at mass in the morning. She told them that she and a friend wanted to work with them on a charitable project. She then asked them to let her know if the two should show up there later. As she had hoped, her initial inquiry about the two women was what set the ball rolling in the effort to find them. The worried mothers begged her to help them and she rushed to their aid immediately. Together, they went to the church to demand support.
 
Part Two



The next day she led a group of women, including the distraught mothers, to the church, where the parish priest prayed with them for God’s help and then joined them in a march to City Hall to demand the local government’s assistance. The Mayor and his team responded with haste and had policemen handing out bulletins seeking information on the girls. They also had every patrolman keeping an eye out for them in every corner of the city and they assigned several detectives to look for clues.



As Jennifer was basking in the public attention at City Hall, enjoying the role of the saintly crusader for justice and charity, she saw someone at the back of the crowd who had fixed her in an intense stare. It was Alexander, his dark eyes pointed like rapiers at her and his face dark and somber. She turned away for a moment, pretending to talk with someone, but when she glanced back she could see he was still there. It would have been easy for her to evade him, but that would have been inconsistent with Jennifer’s style.



She excused herself from the group with whom she had been engaged in conversation and walked back to the tree line where Alexander waited. He looked at her with smoldering contempt and she suppressed a wicked smile for once and instead froze her face in the most serious look she could manage.



“I suppose you think those girls are missing because of something I did,” she said.



“I am not he who makes judgments, but you should meditate on what awaits you on the other side of this life.”



“Good, if you are not occupied making judgments, perhaps we could enlist your help in finding the girls.”



Alexander realized she had trapped him and that he could not refuse. There was no one here who would listen to anything he might say about her involvement with the girls in some sinister project. He knew the devil had many tricks and she was either a devil or someone who had benefited long ago from consorting with the devil.



“We would appreciate it, sir, if you could make inquiries amongst the carriage drivers to see if any of them transported the two young women that night,” Jennifer said with all the seriousness she could muster.



“I saw them board such a carriage in front of your house last night,” he said with a deep frown and a mouth twisted in contempt.



“Precisely!” she said. “The two of them had come to my house seeking Jack, their spiritual adviser. But I had rid my house of him. I know you must think of me as cynical and frivolous, perhaps even wicked, but I am now a married woman. I have a responsibility to my husband to avoid any activity that could bring a stain upon our house and on his good name. The day before the girls arrived, I had gone unannounced and unexpected to the back room that I had allowed my friend Jack Morrow to use for his religious project.”



Alexander coughed when he heard Jack’s foul activities described as a “religious project.” He remained skeptical of this woman, but he was determined to hear her out.



“Well,” she said with an air of disgust, “I was mortified to see what he was doing there with those poor creatures. I told him he must leave and that he would not be allowed in the house any more. I saw to it that the girls were treated for their wounds and sent home.”



Alexander smiled into his beard as he listened to her. He knew she was lying, but he was fascinated by the web of fantasy she was spinning and he had a feeling its final touch might prove interesting.



“So, you see, sir, I was deceived by this old friend. I cast him out and told him not to return. But I learned later from the two girls that he had acquired a building down in the industrial zone near the harbor and that they were going to meet him there. I begged them not to go, but they insisted.”



“And how was it that two penniless young women from poor families were able to pay for a coach ride?” asked Andrew.



“Oh,” said Jennifer, pausing only briefly to organize her thoughts, “Jack had sent them money and an address by some messenger he had paid. I asked to look at the paper, but Jane, the older one, refused to show it and stuck it into the bosom of her dress. Seeing that I could not dissuade them, I had a carriage called up for them.”



Alexander put a hand to his beard and rubbed it.



“So,” he said, “you knew that they had gone with this man, Jack, that night and that they very well could be there with him still or he may have killed them after using them to satisfy his lust, yet you have carried on this charade of calling for a search.”



“Oh, come now,” she replied with a laugh. “However vile Jack may be, he always sent the girls back to their homes. He never defiled them or in any way abused them. He had given them some rather nasty suggestions as to what they should do to themselves, but, as far as I know, he never touched them in a lewd way or struck them. So, no, I reject your notion of Jack being the agent of their disappearance. I think it is more likely that some ruffians, who, I am told, inhabit that area near the harbor, grabbed the two of them and have them still, for what vile purpose we can only imagine.”



Alexander thought that either she was, for once, telling the truth, or she was trying to throw a shadow over the trail that led to her doorstep and to her friend Jack. He decided he would give her the benefit of doubt and accept her request for assistance. He would make the rounds and question every carriage driver he could find.



Later that afternoon, Jennifer sent a note to Jack telling him to pack a small bag and bring along any money or valuables he had. He would be leaving this very night on a freighter bound for Malaysia. She would send him all the details in the evening. In fact, she said she would send a carriage to pick him up and take him to the quay in the harbor where a ship officer would escort him aboard.



He sat in his apartment, with his bag packed, looking at all the things he was leaving behind. He wrote a letter to his sister, telling her that a wonderful opportunity had come his way and that he would be sailing to the Far East. He kept it vague and said he would be in touch once he had arrived. His inheritance money was paid to his bank account every few months and he would have no access to it while abroad. He wondered how he was to live. Jennifer had assured him, however, that her husband would help her arrange a suitable situation for him in Kuala Lumpur. He wondered how Jennifer was able to obtain the cooperation of her husband so easily. He had never met the man and there were good reasons for him to regard Jack with some suspicion. But he knew how clever Jennifer could be and he assumed she had invented a very good tale.



Later, just an hour or so before sunset, he learned that the police had found two female bodies in the ship channel downstream from the harbor. The girls had done alright, he thought. They made it farther than he had supposed they would. Given all the clamor over the missing women, the police were almost certainly going to see these two bodies, with their faces burned away, as the bodies of the missing girls.



When the carriage arrived, he jumped up into a seat with his one bag and the driver handed him a note. It was sealed, which gave him assurance that Jennifer was being as careful as possible. He opened it and read her brief message. She said that the police had interviewed the carriage driver who had taken the two women to his building. The police had then sent a squad to search the place. They surely had found his play room by now. There was not a minute to lose.



Jack went on board the dark-colored freighter late that afternoon, less than an hour before it steamed out of the harbor. It smelled awful and his quarters on board were barely large enough for him to turn around. But he felt relief that he had escaped from the city in the nick of time. He only wished he could have thanked Jennifer for all her help. He would fall at her feet and kiss her hands. He would grab hold of her legs under her skirt and…. He stopped himself from going into another lurid fantasy. He decided it would be best to keep all of that out of his mind for the remainder of this voyage.



In the still dark, early morning, when the ship was far out to sea away from the coast, a big, burly crew member came to summon him to the captain’s cabin. He acquiesced to the request, although he was groggy from lack of sleep. It was cool on deck as he walked with the burly fellow along the railing and looked down at the churning dark water. When they got to the end of the passage two other men joined the first fellow and said they had something they needed to show him.



Suddenly, their hands were on him and he was hoisted into the air. Before he could utter a cry of protest he had been thrown overboard into the cold, dark water. He bobbed about in the water for a minute, watching the ship move on. There was no one to help him now and he could feel his strength leaving him in the cold water. He tried to keep moving, but his muscles were cramping and his clothes became another burden, interfering with his attempts to keep his face out of the water. Perhaps another boat would soon pass by, his desperate mind told him. He talked to himself, saying he should stay calm. He said the words over and over as his body grew weaker. Soon he was unable to keep his head above the surface and he slipped into his last dark nightmare.
 
Chapter 11, part one

Chapter Eleven​

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In her final note to Jack, Jennifer had lied. The carriage driver had not yet spoken to the police and the police had not yet gone to the building. For a tidy little sum of money, she had gained the cooperation of a crewman on the ship who had a foul reputation as a brute. She had told him exactly what she wanted done and demanded his discretion. She needn’t have worried, though, since he and his comrades were not the type of men who talk to the police. To make sure all was done well, she promised the man another payment when he returned later in the year.



When morning broke the next day, Jennifer was out of bed and hard at work with the mothers of the two murdered women. They were making posters to plaster about the city asking for any information that might lead to the arrest of the vile beast who had taken their lives in what the coroner described as a most hideous manner. The killer had also burned away their faces and knocked out their teeth so as to keep even their mothers from identifying them.



But Jennifer had taken the mothers, the priest and a few community leaders with her to the morgue. She asked that the faces remain covered so as not to add further grief to the poor, grieving women who had come in search of their daughters. Each mother had found something on an arm, a toe, an ear, that was distinct and made them sure that these were the bodies of the innocent and pious women who had done so much good in their short lives.



Newspapers carried lurid stories about the crime with a decent ratio of about three truths for every lie or piece of questionable information. The public was outraged and demanded results from the police. The police had little to go on and so concentrated on picking up known criminals for questioning. This, of course, produced nothing.



At the same time, Alexander, all on his own, was doing the work a police detective should have been doing. He found many carriages in the waiting lines near the train station and in front of the swanky hotels. He spoke to more than a dozen of them without success. Then he started jumping out in front of moving carriages, looking indeed like a mad monk. The startled drivers allowed him to ask his questions and then moved on, anxious to be away from him.



It was on a corner not far from Jennifer’s home that he finally achieved success. He found the driver who said he had taken two women to a building down by the harbor that night. Could they have been the two girls who had gone missing? The driver said he hardly looked at them and didn’t think much about his rides once they were over. Alexander pressed him for more information as to where the building was. The driver said he couldn’t be sure as it was down by the harbor where the streets are sometimes narrow and treacherous, but not as treacherous as the denizens of the area, who would slit a man’s throat for a few pennies.



So, Alexander demanded that the driver take him down to the harbor now, in broad daylight, to show him the building where he had left the two unfortunate women. The carriage moved along slowly as the driver looked about for any familiar sign. Then he saw one while rolling by the ruins of an old tavern that he remembered passing and he took what he thought was the same turn he had made that night. Before long he saw the building and called out to Alexander, who jumped down and pounded on the big door. There was no answer. Seeing that the place was locked up and very secure, Alexander took note of the address and then told the driver to take him to police headquarters.



On the way, they stopped in front of Jennifer’s house, where Alexander encountered a tall handsome, well-dressed man who asked him what he wanted. Alexander explained the mission on which Jennifer had sent him and he asked that a message he had just written in pencil on a small scrap of paper be delivered to her. The man said he was her husband, just returned from an international trip, and that he would gladly give the note to her when she returned from a meeting in about an hour.



At Police Headquarters, Alexander sought out Lieutenant Walker and told him what he had found out. He brought him out to interview the carriage driver, who had waited outside, somewhat thrilled by all the hubbub and his chance to play a part in the drama. Walker thanked Alexander and also praised Jennifer for having sent him on the mission. Alexander also briefed him on what he knew of Jack and how Jennifer had said she asked him to leave after discovering some sort of lascivious behavior taking place in a room of her house she had allowed him to use. The words burned in Alexander’s mouth as he spoke them, but it was important that the police know who was the likely owner of the building where the young women had gone and the depths of his depravity.



Meanwhile, Jennifer had arrived at her home and read Alexander’s scribbled note with satisfaction. Everything was going as she had planned it. She had contacted the carriage man, whom she had bribed to stay at home until the time was right. After pulling Alexander into her scheme, she contacted the carriage man again and told him to talk to no one but the dark-haired man who wore the robe of a monk. She said he should take this “monk” to the building where he had left the girls and that he should cooperate with police when the time came.



As for her own connection with Jack, she had a neat and tidy story prepared and she recited it all when the police spoke to her about Jack. She said he had come to her house, as an old family friend, the younger brother of one of her best female friends when she was still a child, and that he had proposed a charity project that involved schooling for young women. She found the idea delightful and promised to find him some young women who could assist in recruiting girls for the school. He also sought to provide them spiritual guidance, she said.



But not long after he had begun this venture, she said she became suspicious of his true motives. He seemed to spend a lot of time with the women making plans behind closed doors, but with no result. Finally, she said, she told him he could not use her house any more for his meetings. She could not be there with them all the time and she thought it scandalous to leave two attractive young women alone with a man who was influenced by the same powerful desires as any other man. “Lead us not into temptation,” she said.



Lieutenant Walker was amused by her charming ability to weave a tale of deceit without so much as a blush or nervous tic. He would not challenge her, though. At least not yet.



She had left out some of the more sordid parts of the story she had told Alexander. But, in her interview with the detectives she had accomplished what was most important; to distance herself from Jack and suggest that her worst mistake was being innocent, naive, and trusting. She was able to convince them that she was unaware of Jack’s perverse behavior and horrified by what little she knew of his treatment of the two girls in the building by the harbor.



She was mortified and grieved when she realized that after Jane and Madeleine had left her house in a carriage that night, they disappeared. So,the next day she had asked Alexander the Good, the monk, as some called him, to help locate the driver and she was delighted to learn that he had.



A little later in the day a large group of uniformed police and detectives went to the building where the coachman said he had left the two young women. They had found evidence of gruesome undertakings in the main room at the center of the building, which was surrounded by its own wall and securely locked. It had taken them more than two hours to break through the outside door, thick and strong as it was, and later the inner sanctum door. Some of them gasped in shock at the sight of the torture devices stained with blood.



In the tunnel below they found a few strands of hair and a couple of teeth. They assumed the killer had taken the bodies here to throw them into the harbor. As they were looking about, one of them almost tripped over a black, grimy object underfoot. It was the brazier, which Jack had left there. They now had a probable idea of how the killer had burned the faces off the corpses.
 
Chap 11, continued....

The mothers of the lost young women expressed their gratitude to Jennifer for all she had done and she promised to continue helping them and urged them to find solace in their religion. The mayor of the city and the chief of police awarded Jennifer with accolades and a bronze medal usually reserved for those who had performed acts of heroism.


But then, why not? Her husband certainly hailed her a a hero. He told everyone he encountered about her courageous effort to track down the killer, who had disappeared from the city and the comfort she had provided to the families of the victims.


The city police sent out bulletins to cities far and wide describing Jack Morrow, the presumed murderer, and officials in one faraway city sent back an inquiry about a strange box that had arrived there by rail. It contained the remains of a woman who had apparently been alive when placed into the box, but had died of asphyxia sometime during the journey in a freight car. The too small and too few holes in the wood had been partially blocked by other cargo and they assumed that had deprived the poor woman of life. But then the coroner discovered signs of ill treatment on her body that raised questions about this being a possible case of murder. Hearing of the gruesome double murder in the city from which the box had been sent, they suspected there might be a connection.


The whole affair was quite exciting and the newspapers feasted on it for several weeks. Eventually, the public’s attention moved on to other topics and citizens of the city went about their daily affairs with little fear that such a crime would be committed there again. Jennifer and her husband were happier together than they had ever been before, partly because, people assumed, she missed her husband when he was away on his long trip and that his return had restored passion to their marriage.


Indeed her husband did notice a change in her. She had become almost insatiable in bed and she sometimes asked him to hit her with his belt. She would turn away to provide her bare back and urge him to do it. At first, he found this very odd and refused, but eventually she convinced him. After a few such sessions, he began to like it. He found it exciting to hear her shriek in pain and very gratifying when they then fell into bed together to make love.


Her husband did not provide such details to even his closest friends, but he did sing Jennifer’s praises and told of all the charitable programs with which she was involved . In fact, although her husband was ignorant of it, she often had young women visit the house in an effort to help them learn how to protect themselves from madmen like Jack. She provided them with a back room where they could study and pray in privacy. She often joined them there, telling the servants to stay away, no matter what sounds they heard coming from that room. But her husband did not know about that. He only knew that she was continually doing good and that their love life had made him happier than he had ever been.


As he often said to his friends, “My Jennifer, she is a saint.”
 
FINAL CHAPTER-- First part

Chapter Twelve


After some weeks went by the city moved on to other concerns and the story of the ill-fated young women all but disappeared from headlines and well as idle gossip. Jennifer Morton continued to enjoy immense popularity, although she was beginning to tire of the endless social gatherings and official ceremonies she was obligated to attend. Her husband was very happy with her and she kept him amused and tried not to be too terribly bored. Her sessions with young women in the back room never rose to the stimulating level of Jack's. But she did become acquainted with one young lithe blonde who reminded her of herself at around 18 years of age.


Jessica Baylor took to Jennifer’s games with a relish she had not seen in other girls. She smiled and winked at Jennifer quite often as she applied the cane to another girl's bare bottom or tied another one up in strange positions and left them hanging that way for a long time while they moaned and begged to be taken down. Jennifer had not followed Jack's plan of self-torture. Instead, she encouraged the girls to punish each other. Granted, there were times when she had to demonstrate the proper technique, but otherwise she remained on the side, watching it all with pleasure. As time went on, she became quite enamored of Jessica and invited her to another small room, a closet really, where they could satisfy each other's longings without being disturbed.


One day, as he was making his usual rounds, helping the poor and praying with the sick, Alexander saw Lieutenant Walker standing in the ample shade of a large nearby tree. He walked over and greeted his friend and asked if there was something he wished to discuss. Walker told him he had received a disturbing letter in the post from a woman in another city who claimed to be the sister of Jack Morrow, the now presumed-to-be deceased ship passenger who was the main suspect in the murder of the two local girls as well as an older prostitute whose body had been shipped in a box to another city and then thrown into a pauper's grave after no one in this city claimed it.


In the letter, the sister described Jack as a man who had entered a dark realm and was never able to escape it. She confessed that she had had some role in this at the urging of her good friend, Jennifer Lauderdale, now Mrs. Morton. She regretted that they had corrupted Jack when he was still a young lad and that he later craved every exotic pleasure he could experience or imagine experiencing. Although she had no way of knowing what had gone on there, she said the fact that Jennifer was there and had been in touch with Jack frightened her. She questioned the story she had seen in a newspaper in which Jennifer described herself as totally unaware of Jack's perverse intentions and shocked when she had discovered them. She said she was sure there was more to the story and she urged the police to pursue it further.



“Nothing in this letter surprises me,” said Alexander. “A I told you at the time of the investigation, this woman is treacherous and evil.”


“Yes, I know,” said Walker, “But as Itold you, there was no evidence and no one to contradict her story. I could tell she lied and I was also suspicious when I found out that the man who owned the torture chamber, as people came to call it, conveniently drowned after boarding a freighter connected with one of her husband's companies. But, there was then and there is now no concrete evidence that she did anything illegal.”



“What about the servants?” Alexander asked. “Surely some of them have seen things or heard things that could lead you to evidence.”


“There are two problems with that,” explained Walker. “First, there is no longer an active investigation and, Second, some accusation from a servant would be of little use in confronting one of society's most popular women.”


“Then, there is nothing to be done but wait for death to take her so that she might seek forgiveness from a God whom she has spurned and insulted by committing sins for which she has no remorse.”


“There is one possible angle you might explore,” said Walker. “You might continue your efforts to meet and converse with some of the women who work in her house now. They might hear something or discover something of interest. You, and to some extent, I, can also remind Jennifer Morton every so often that the cloud of suspicion over her head has never completely dissipated. We can see to it that she can never be fully sure that she has avoided punishment for her crimes.”


The two men walked around the tree a little longer and then Walker departed after shaking hands with the only completely honest and trustworthy man he knew in this city. Walker kept the letter from Jack's sister in a safe place, but he took some of what he had learned in it to compose a letter to Mrs. Morton reminding her of some of her past indulgences. He sent it anonymously and tried to imagine what impact it would have on her.
 
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