Description
by John Savage
Dawn’s life is nothing but pain, sexual torment and bondage. Still a prisoner at Saint Susan’s, an escape-proof underwater prison devoted to the constant punishment of special sinners, there seems little hope for her. Along with her is Jane, the former Nun who once helped her escape from captivity, and Julie, the daughter of Bishop Diane Crofton, who also helped Dawn. Meanwhile, the pitifully small resistance movement is struggling for ways to save Dawn and Jane, and getting nowhere. Even taking prisoner Bishop Diane’s second in command earns them nothing but trouble.
Along with the usual graphic descriptions of sex and sexual torment, this fourth and final book in John Savage’s “Repression” series also features gun battles, kidnapping, earthquakes, Great White sharks, revolution, treachery and betrayal, and, as might be expected of a really good erotic novel, true love that battles against the odds to succeed.
This is book four of the famous Repression four book series. All four books are available in their entirety in “The Repression Saga.”
Published: 11 / 2010 No. words: 40,500
Saint Susan’s, as Dawn had discovered, was not a retraining center like Saint Secundina’s, nor was it an establishment devoted to extracting information from people, as Saint Dorina’s was. This place was intended for only one purpose: to punish. Nothing was wanted from the prisoners, save for them to suffer. Restraints were constant, the food literally dog food fed to them in bowls on the floor, and the torture never-ending. She had been there only a week but already she was feeling desperately depressed. This was all life would be? Constant torture? They were even careful not to give the prisoners, sinners as the Church called them, a chance to die. It might happen during the punishments; if so, no big deal to Mother Superior Olga and the Nuns who ran the place. Likewise, if a sinner went insane from the cruel treatment, that was fine with them. They simply tossed her out of an underwater hatch to provide food and sport for the Great White sharks that were always around.
Actually, this current punishment was mild compared to that which she had endured since coming to Saint Susan’s. Her body had been racked by bondage both contorted and prolonged. Her skin had been marked with whipmarks many times. Her nipples were sore from harsh clips being snapped on them, and her vagina ached from having huge objects shoved in there. So, just sitting on a cold floor and feeling your arms and shoulders ache was almost pleasant – by the standards of Saint Susan’s.
In her little punishment room, she was in total darkness, which, oddly enough, bothered her more than the ache and pains of the ropes. There is a part of all humans that fears the dark. We are creatures of the light, and total darkness can distort rational thinking. Through the cold, hard walls she could feel slight vibrations; the constant hum of the air conditioning, the occasional sounds of a motor someplace or the other, and a rare clacking of high heels as one of the Nuns walked by outside the locked door of her cell.
Thoughts of the friends she had made in the Resistance came to her. Were they still alive? Or had they been caught by the Guards and hauled off to be disposed of as dissidents. She remembered her parents, although she was forced to admit to herself that it was harder to conjure up their images in her mind. Other faces haunted her memories: the Nuns who had tortured her, the Guards who had transported her around and stolen a quick grope or more when they could, even the beautiful yet evil face of Bishop Diana Crofton, the leader of the Church in the city where Dawn had grown up. That woman was so entrenched in the Church policy that she condemned her own daughter to the same hellhole Dawn was currently suffering in. She had seen Julie a few times but had little chance to talk. Julie was one of the only people who had helped her, and she had strong feelings for the slender, young girl.
These and memories of the tortures she had endured over the last six months wandered in and out of her mind as she sat there in the dark. The horrible feeling of electrical shocks to sensitive parts of her body, the kiss of the whip, and even the pain of a branding iron pressed against her lovely breasts to mark her forever with the initials of Bishop Crofton. All these and more haunted her dreams, and made her waking moments none too pleasant either.
She wondered what was happening to Julie. When last she saw her, she was hanging upside down by wire tied around her big toes. She remembered the tears flowing down the girl’s lovely but pain-twisted face to fall upon the floor. Her view was cut off when she was hauled away to a different torture. Her heart went out to the girl who had risked and lost all to help Dawn.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels clacking on a metal floor coming up to the door and stopping. For a few long seconds there was no additional sound, and Dawn waited. Was someone coming for her? Was it dinnertime already? It was with mixed feelings that she heard the lock on the door click, and it began to open. Mixed, because if she was removed from that small, dark room, she might be taken to someplace not so cold and those tight ropes removed from her arms. Or she might be taken to someplace where the torment would be worse than just being locked in a dark room with pained arms.
One of the Nuns was standing there, but all Dawn could see was the dark outline of a woman looking down on her. For a while, all the Nun did was look. The silence made Dawn uneasy. But then everything in this place made her uneasy. The words of the Mother Superior, Sister Olga came back to her: “You were sent here for punishment, nothing else. Here we only punish. Constant, intense punishment. Nothing else. I can tell you that all who come here never leave. Nor do they die of old age.”
“You’re lucky,” came the voice of Sister Katrina, the Nun who seemed to take particular delight in torturing poor Dawn. “You’ve been summoned to the Mother Superior’s cabin.”
Dawn was not sure if that was good or bad. During the time she had been a prisoner of Saint Susan’s, she had been tortured by all the Nuns, and even forced to service them in a lesbian sense, but never by the hand of the head Nun herself. Would she prove to be the cruelest of them all.
“Get on your feet, sinner! Hurry up, I haven’t all day.” The command was emphasized by a quick snap of the riding crop in her hand against Dawn’s left breast. She struggled to her feet, mostly by pushing against the wall. Then she was being led out and down a corridor. The Mother Superior’s cabin was in a part of Saint Susan’s she had not seen before. Immediately she knew she was in a different world.
First, there was the carpet beneath her bare feet. After walking on metal floors, it was strange to be standing on something soft. Then there were the colors and fabrics. Instead of bare metal walls, almost every square inch was covered in tapestries and drapes. Several of the tapestries depicted scenes of a rural nature; farms, forests and plains. In one there was a sled drawn by three horses racing across a snowy field. In another three Cossacks on horses were chasing a wolf through a pine forest. Where there were not elaborate, colorful pictures, there was cloth in warm shades of russet, browns, tans and oranges.
The furniture was also different from the rest of the underwater prison. Here was a large bed with a very comfortable looking spread, the color of coffee with cream. There were dressers and a make-up table with large mirror, all of polished wood. Across the end of the room was a picture window like the one in the Mother Superior’s office, with a view of a coral reef. By the dimness of the ocean view, Dawn knew it was after sunset. Two exterior floodlights illuminated the multi-colored coral and the hundreds of fish in vivid colors themselves. Some of them seemed to be coming up to the window and looking in.
Sister Olga, as she preferred to be called, was standing by the window, looking out upon the colorful scene. She turned when Dawn was marched in.