Kathy Trained

Description

Kathy Trained

46,700 words

Published June 2022

Kathy was a troublemaker and rebellious young woman, a total disappointment to her father. When his attempts to straighten her out fail, he turns to a specialized (and quite clandestine) school to do the job. Costly, yes, but their severe (and painful) techniques get the job done. Kathy finds herself kidnapped and held prisoner, constantly restrained and punished for no reason. But that is only to break her will. Then the sexual training begins.
Lots of bondage, torment and suffering and a few twists. Typical John Savage novel.

Each time the whip impacted against the bare female flesh, a loud smacking sound bounced off the cement walls, followed by a howl of pain. The exquisite young female body jerked wildly at the kiss of leather, bare legs kicking at empty air and lovely breasts bouncing. The naked body twisted as it hung by the wrists, suspended above the bare concrete floor in accompaniment to the sobs of feminine agony. When the sharp bite of pain dulled, the tear-stained face turned to her tormentor to beg for cessation of this torture. The man in black ignored the pleas and cocked back his arm for another vicious cut upon her flesh.

Already her youthful, firm ass bore four stripes, vivid red marks of swollen flesh that counted her punishment with a visible tally. A swish, followed by the crack of leather against soft flesh, and a fifth line was added to the others, each spaced expertly an inch below the last. She screamed and jerked her legs up until her knees were almost touching her breasts. It was the closest her bonds allowed to curling up. She whimpered as her legs came down to hang towards the hard floor, toes a full twelve inches above the gray concrete.

Hanging there with tears rolling down her cheeks and eyes closed tightly, it took her a while to realize that the whipping had stopped. She sniffed back tears and looked around. There was only darkness outside the two cones of light from the spotlights set in the ceiling and illuminating her naked, limp body. She looked up to where her wrists were bound together with white rope, rope that, although wrapped a number of times around her slender wrists, still cut in and made her hands semi-numb. She worked her fingers, trying to reach down to the ropes, but failed. There was nothing she could do to free herself. Just as there was nothing she could do to stop that man from coming in and causing her more pain than she had ever felt in her young life – more pain that she had ever imagined was possible.

With a sigh, her lovely face turned down as she hung her head. Her whole body hung limp, save for occasional small twitches of her injured bottom. She longed to be able to touch herself, to assure herself that her flesh was not sliced to ribbons and bleeding – as the pain suggested. But she could do nothing to ease her suffering. Tears flowed down her cheeks to fall upon her firm, perky breasts.

Half an hour later, two watchers entered the small room adjacent to the torture chamber. A large panel of one-way glass presented them with a view of the hanging girl, but allowed no hint of observers to her. A distinguished-looking man and a lovely women settled themselves into comfortable chairs. Each held a drink in an old-fashion glass. Both were in their late thirties, well-dressed in expensive but casual clothing. The man wore a gray slacks and white shirt, the woman a white silk blouse and a black leather skirt. The woman crossed her legs, allowing the short skirt to ride up and expose a fair amount of nylon-clad thigh. She had a fine figure and didn’t mind showing it off.

“She is beautiful,” the woman commented. “And so young! Where did you get her?”

The man did not answer the question, instead saying, “She is good-looking, I’ll admit. We’re just beginning her training.”

“Training? Mitch, you’ve really going to tell me what it is you’ve doing here? Training females. Young females?!” She paused to smile. “It looks most intriguing,” she purred, unable to take her eyes off the battered female flesh on display.

“Well, let me see – I have here what you might call a school of young ladies. Sort of a finishing school, as it were.”

“Fancy names don’t change what you’re really doing here,” she commented. “Kidnapping girls and torturing them is illegal, you know,” she added dryly, but still with a smile.

“Oh, my dear, you have it all wrong!” he protested but with a grin on his face. “I did not kidnap this lovely young thing. In fact, she was given to me by her father!”

“Mitch, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“No, not at all! Her father actually paid me to take her down here and train her. She was a student at a well-known university but had turned to a wicked life of drugs and playing around with boys – things that her parents totally disapproved of. He tried one rehabilitation center and a private school, but she returned to her old ways as soon as she could. Then someone told him of my special school down here in San Sebastian that could reprogram young women – make them into what their parents wanted. I take in rebellious trouble-makers, drugies, and religious cult victims, and return perfect, obedient and loving daughters.”

“You do this with ‘affection training,’ like the animals in the circus?” she asked in mock innocence.

“Not quite… Actually, the parents have to agree to not ask my methods and to agree to let me do anything I deem necessary. Anything!” He chuckled. “Can you believe that?”

Her eyes roved over the slender nudity hanging a few feet away with a hunger she made no attempt to hide. “Anything…” She licked her lips.