Part 10
“No, Emma. The vicious little slut did not hurt me,” says the Sister coldly, sounding slightly shaken. “Sophie, dearest, could you fetch me a gag?”
“No! No! Please! No! Not the gag again!” Mercy wails. “If you’re going to murder me, then do it already! Just send me out there now! I just want to leave this horrid, horrid room! I’ll be a good painslut ... if - if that’s what you want. I’ll let them do whatever they want to me. I won’t complain. When they whip me I‘ll be very polite. I … I’ll even thank them for punishing me! I probably deserve it. I … I’ll lie down on my cross when it’s my turn and let them hammer the nails in. I won’t struggle. I’ll try not to scream! Just take me out, and … and … LET THEM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT TO ME!”
She breaks down and weeps bitterly, absolutely certain that she would rather face the world, the crowds and the cameras than stay here to be tormented by these vile women. Crowds and cameras have always been her friends. She knows how to win them over with her hot body and engaging smile. Everyone loved her when she was a weather girl, and she knows there will be plenty of friendly and sympathetic faces among the spectators when she goes out into the fresh air and the sunlight. They will give her the strength to endure the pain and the humiliation … And maybe … maybe, when they see how barbarically she is being treated, the good people of England will rise up against their evil, sadistic government, and Mercy will be saved ...
“You know … it’s funny”, says the Sister, cutting into her thoughts, “but, after spending the morning in here with us, the sluts sentenced to be cruxed always beg and plead - just like you’re doing now - to be allowed out to face the great English public. Of course, once they come up against the dark salt-tide of sadism moving through that cold ocean of faces … they swiftly change their minds and beg and scream to be allowed back in here. Strange.”
Sophie pushes the ball gag into Mercy’s mouth and tightens the straps behind her head.
“Is that comfortable?” she asks innocently.
Mercy nods, bewildered by Sophie’s seeming concern for her comfort.
“You see, Miss Skreemings,” the Sister continues, “being in here with us is the first stage of your punishment, and by far, the least unpleasant. As for your touching little fantasy of patiently waiting your turn and passively lying down and letting them hammer these vicious beauties into your wrists and ankles”, she picks up the nails, holds them in front of Mercy’s face, “well, I’m sorry to disabuse you, but the last thing the Government wants is a simpering little martyr playing to the crowd: a meek little goody-two-shoes compliantly walking to her crucifixion.”
As she speaks, she reaches around to untie the laces at the back of Mercy’s hospital nightie and gestures to Emma to let go of her arms.
“You see, sweetheart, it’s our job to break you. When we’ve finished with you, you’ll literally be just a whimpering piece of meat, pure masturbation fodder for the people of England, and whoever else wishes to buy the TV rights to your snuffing. Nothing more.”
With a practiced movement the Sister and Emma pluck the hospital nightie over Mercy’s head, leaving her naked except for her panties.
Deprived by the gag of any means of protest, she instinctively brings her hands up to her breasts to try and cover her dark pink areolae. She is giddy with panic and can feel her heart pounding against her fingertips. She can also feel that her nipples are hard and stiff like pencil erasers.
The Sister breaks into a chuckle. “You’ve got quite a handful to manage there, haven’t you, sweetheart? But you won’t be able to hide them when your arms are stretched out along that big piece of timber over there. Those lovely plump breasts will be on show to the whole world. Just think how much more confident you’d feel going out to meet the crowds wearing a sexy brassiere and a lovely silk blouse.”
“And maybe a nice, smart, knee-length skirt and a pair of Jimmy Choos”, Emma chimes in enthusiastically, as she presses a button, which causes the back portion of the mattress to rise up behind Mercy at an angle of 45 degrees.“The Sister could get you a killer wardrobe if you put her in a good mood. All you need to do is help her catch the traitor. Isn’t that true, Sister?”
The Sister pushes Mercy hard against the raised mattress and takes hold of her right hand, prising it away from her breast, pulling it back and stretching it along the metal bedstead. Emma does likewise with her other arm, and Mercy feels a pair of cold metal restraints clicking into place around her wrists..
“Of course, our traitor will be very smartly dressed when she comes to watch you suffer...”, says the Sister, casting a disdainful glance towards Cassandra, who by now is sitting perched on a stool - arms folded over her breasts, stockinged legs tightly twisted around one another. With wet lips slightly parted, and eyes misty with lust, Cassandra is eagerly drinking in what is being done to Mercy.
Mercy is amazed that she has not fled the scene. Why doesn’t she just leave before they come to arrest her?
“... Our traitor always is … very elegantly dressed, in a preppy sort of way,” the Sister continues matter-of-factly. “And she’ll be storing up years of material for her little masturbatory fantasies as she listens to your screams and watches you buck and twist your million-dollar body against your raised cross. Actually, I can guarantee that you’ll sell for more than a million dollars at the meat auction. The King of Asspankia and the President of Gangbangia will be bidding hard against one another, each one desperate to make a gift of your cruxed and live-roasted flesh to the Prime Minister of England. Firm young redheads like you always taste delicious. Isn’t that so, Cassandra?”
Cassandra gives a weak smile, keeping her eyes nailed immovably to Mercy’s exposed breasts.
The Sister turns to Sophie: “I think it’s time we got Miss Skreemings’s cornu ready,” she says, “so that the Doctor can calibrate it. And … Goodness! It almost slipped my mind … I need to call security about our traitor.”
“Certainly, Sister”, says Sophie, picking up the phone and handing it back to the Sister. “I’ll go and fetch Miss Skreemings’s cornu.”
With a radiant smile, the pretty little blonde nurse skips eagerly towards the storeroom.
The Sister dials a number, and cradling the phone with her shoulder, she reaches down the side of Mercy’s bed and pulls up a looped leather strap.
Emma does likewise on the other side and before Mercy has time to react they pass the loops over her feet and ankles, along her smooth slim calves as far as her knees.
Emma presses another button and the straps begin to retract, hoisting up Mercy’s bent knees and drawing her thighs wide apart, leaving her feet dangling helplessly. She screams into her gag and frantically kicks her feet up and down, tugging hysterically at her wrist restraints.
“Ah! Hello Rory”, says the Sister speaking into the phone, this is Sister Rosemary Gently-Browning from Execution Ward Two … I’m very well thank you. I’d like to report a crime … Well … there appears to be a traitor in our midst … Indeed. A capital offense. Giving aid and comfort to the enemy … It seems that someone has given water to one of our condemned ladies … Yes … to Mercy Skreemings … ”
She glances up at the lightbulb above Mercy’s bed.
“Camera Four … I assume you and the boys are watching it, even as we speak ... “ She chuckles and smiles. “Just as I thought … Getting a great view of Mercy Skreemings’s tits are we? … They certainly are … Stupendous. And we’re just about to expose the little slut’s cunt.” She laughs. “I know you too well, Rory … Well, I’d like you to check Camera Four for the last four hours. In fact, I think you should check all the cameras … For any suspicious behavior on the part of hospital staff. And most particularly, for evidence of anyone giving a drink to Mercy Skreemings ... Excellent. And when you’ve identified the perpetrator, will you be calling the MEGA-Squad? … Good. That’s very sensible … Yes, it would save time. Our traitor could be processed on-site under the emergency powers and sent out for summary crucifixion - assuming, of course, that our traitor is a woman … and I have a strong suspicion that she is - and a very pretty one at that.” She gives Cassandra an icy smile. “Good. Speak to you soon, Rory, my love … Goodbye.”
As the Sister puts the phone down, Cassandra gets up from her stool, mumbles an excuse, and starts walking briskly towards the door.
The Sister calls after her: “Leaving us already Cassandra? But you haven’t made your report to the Doctor about Miss Skreemings. By the way, if you’re thinking of going out, I’m afraid the hospital exits are being sealed until our traitor is caught …”
“Oh, erm, … I just thought I’d best go and … look for the Doctor. The … fact that Mercy, I mean Miss Skreemings, has been vomiting could have ramifications for … her, erm, … serum electrolyte balance, and her sodium, not to mention her mental health, and, that could have a detrimental effect on the erm - you know - flavor of her meat, when they roast her ...We don’t want the Prime Minister to be served with tough or bitter girlmeat ...”
“Absolutely not,” says the Sister emphatically. “Good thinking, Cassandra. You’re ahead of the curve, as usual. You’d best go and look for Dr. Painjoy. I’m beginning to wonder where he is. He should be here doing his round by now.”
At Cassandra’s mention of roasting her meat, Mercy lashes out at the Sister with the only parts of her body still free to move. Kicking out frantically with her lower legs, her big toe only narrowly misses the Sister’s chin.
The Sister backs away and sighs melodramatically. “Oh dear, Miss Skreemings. I suppose we'll have to secure those feet as well.”
Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out a roll of adhesive tape and a pair of scissors. The Sister bends Mercy’s knees, forcing her calves hard against the backs of her thighs, while Emma secures them with the tape.
“Excellent work, Emma. Just one last little detail, and we’re all set. My oh my, just look at the little trollope’s gusset. Those knickers are literally soaked in your vaginal juices, Miss Skreemings. I’m beginning to suspect that all that whining and complaining about us has been nothing but a sham. I think you’ve been rather enjoying your time with us. What do you think, Staff Nurse?”
Emma shrieks with laughter. “If us girls are having this effect on her, you can bet that she’ll squirt when my boyfriend gets to work.”
“Absolutely. You’ll find that Emma’s fiancé, Spike, is very good looking and very well-hung, Miss Skreemings, as, indeed, are the other two nailers. They’ll be along any minute with Dr. Painjoy, and they’ll get to rape you first. I’ve no doubt you’ll enjoy the experience.”
The two women giggle gleefully. And Emma looks far more relaxed than she did a few minutes ago, after her intemperate outburst with the Sister.
Reassured at being back in the Sister’s good books, the beautiful African-Caribbean nurse now grins at Mercy, showing her immaculate white teeth. Mercy tenses as Emma holds up the shiny surgical scissors. With a flourish she takes some theatrical snips at the air, and then bends down and slips the cold instrument under the skimpiest part of Mercy’s lavender-colored silk panties. With one snip they are rendered useless.
Then with thumb and finger Emma gives them a sharp pluck, and Mercy squeals into her gag, feeling an intense sting of sexual pleasure as the warm wet silk passes roughly over her labia, biting into her cleft and snagging on her engorged clit.
“There, all done,” says Emma, tossing the soaking panties into the bin,
Thighs splayed, her pouting pussy lips wet and glistening, this is by far the most humiliating situation that Mercy has ever found herself in.
“That’s a lovely compact little vulva” says the Sister, running two fingers gently up and down the length of Mercy’s slick sex, “and such plump juicy labia.” She sucks at the tips of her fingers. “Mmm … Scrumptious! The Prime Minister will be very pleased. I have it on good authority that cunt steak is his favorite.”
Mercy weeps silently. Huge salty tears run down her cheeks, and a rivulet of drool finds its way past the ball gag and moves down her chin, dripping slowly onto her breast.
Sophie returns carrying a large black case. She places it on the bed a few inches from Mercy’s bottom, and opens it. Mercy can see that it contains a number of implements. Sophie carefully lifts out a long black object, the size and shape of a very large phallus.
“I thought this size would be best”, she says. “Nine inches?”
“Excellent choice,” says the Sister.
“Sensational choice!” says a voice from the doorway.
The nurses turn their heads and see a tall, dapper man - dark haired and graying at the temples - dressed in a dark suit, walking briskly towards them with a slightly mincing gait.
Cassandra emerges following closely behind.