I'm sure that you're sick and tired of these notices authors of
Horror/Terror/S&M and non-consensual sex stories have been putting
at the top of their files. But just in case you aren't, here's
another one:




                       WARNING!  WARNING!  WARNING!

       THIS STORY CONTAINS HORROR/TERROR/S&M AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX
               IF YOU DON"T LIKE THIS SHIT - DON'T READ IT!

                    This is a work of fantasy fiction. 

All the characters and events portrayed in this story are
fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is
purely coincidental.

                              END OF WARNING                                Nola58.txt

                              "The Brothers"
                              "By Curt Strap"

                                 Chapter 1

          Nola sat in the back of the limo and fidgeted, waiting for the
light to change. The private charter was delayed and she was late
for her rendezvous with The Brothers who weren't really related. At
least not genetically.
          She was tall with breasts, hips and thighs bordering on buxom.
Her hair was long, the colour of spilled wine, hanging to the
middle of her back in long, tangled tresses. Her cheekbones and
attitude were suitable for a high-fashion model, and her cool and
unattainable demeanour earned her the title of Ms. Ice.
          The light changed and the limo lurched into the intersection.
Nola checked her watch. Five minutes late. She was going to be five
minutes late for her session with her "therapists".
                                   * * *
          The dungeon was located in the basement of an old three-story
brick villa located miles from civilization. She hurried down the
dark stairs that led to the heavy metal door under the front
entrance. The shadows smelled of piss, which made her hands tremble
even more as she punched her code into the security gate. There was
a harsh, ear-jarring buzz and she eagerly yanked open the heavy
door.
                                   * * *
          Maria was sitting in the waiting room, dressed in her hip-
hugging shorts and tank top. She was young, cute and perfect. Her
hands and feet were tiny, her long black hair was tied in a
ponytail that fell to her narrow buttocks. The girl played the
teasing virgin, wide-eyed and innocent, demurely biting her lower
lip. She could have passed for a child of ten. Nola felt a strong
sensation in her belly.
          "You're late," she said, not even bothering to look up. "They
don't like it when you're late."
          "Yes. Yes, I know...that was bad of me. Very, very bad..."
Nola was breathing hard, but not because she was out of breath.
          Maria glanced up at him with her big, childlike eyes and
licked her lips with a flick of her little pink tongue. "Don't tell
me...tell them."
          "Of course. Of course." Nola turned and headed down the narrow
corridor that led from the waiting room into the bowels of the
dungeon. On the first level were a number of fantasy suites
specializing in fetish motifs. One was a nursery for bad little
boys and girls, another an enema clinic, yet another a bathroom for
water sports and even darker fantasies. But none of those kinks
interested her this time.
          At the end of the corridor, she faced the manhole cover. Down
there, in the pits of hell, hidden from her sane and orderly world,
lay her destiny. A real medieval torture chamber, a special room
for those who wished to reenact the Nazi concentration camp
atrocities, the Inquisition's interrogation cellar...a place where
anything is possible...and nothing is taboo, a place where writhing
bodies worship whips, a place dedicated to the dark side of the
human psyche where guilt and dread no longer restrain seemingly
sane men and woman.
          Nola took off her clothes while Maria lowered the chain hoist
and placed the hook on the steel lifting handle of the massive
concrete slab.
          Undressed, Nola was an impressive specimen of female
perfection and beauty. She knew it and used it to her advantage.
Her breasts, though heavy, didn't sag. Her pink nipples were hard
and long, excited by cold air and anticipation. Her belly was soft
and vulnerable with just a touch of roundness, her long legs were
toned but not muscular. Her buttocks were tempting, jutting
proudly, oozing sexuality. A light covering of pubic hair barely
hid her relatively small slit, emphasising pink outer lips.
          Bare to the eyes of the child-woman, Nola felt the first hint
of apprehension. Black eyes roamed her body, missing nothing, and
came to rest at the apex of her thighs. 
          The once cool, arrogant woman, stripped of her clothing and
the trappings of her wealth, sensed her vulnerability and shivered.
          The girl, still staring at the naked beauty, pressed the
switch and the pulley tightened against its heavy load, strained
momentarily, then pulled the massive slab from the opening. 
          An unpleasant odour escaped with the mist from the dank hole
and Nola stared with dread at the smelly cavity. She suspected that
the dungeon shared its space with a sewer system, still active she
did not know and did not want to find out.
          This was the first time for this part of the dungeon. Her
previous "therapy" sessions were conducted in the relative security
of one of the upstairs theme rooms. But she had expanded her
fantasy, fleshing it out in greater detail and she became more and
more confident, more trusting. At first she'd been worried about
blackmail, but relaxed once she realized she could always dismiss
it as an elaborate, albeit perverse, sex game. It was a fantasy,
nothing more. She had the resources to deal with those who wanted
to make something of it.
          During her last visit, they had hinted to her about a more
secret dungeon, where everything was real, the implements, the
oozing stone, the chains. Of course, it was much more expensive to
play there and they understood that she couldn't afford it. Their
ploy worked and she promised to make another appointment...but only
if they use the real dungeon.                                 Chapter 2

          The rotting ladder was narrow. It had no hand rails and it was
wet and covered with green slime. She shivered in the cold, her
feet almost refusing to place themselves on the spongy rungs. But
she had no choice.
          Maria had pointed to the hole, her eyes staring at Nola's sex,
then stood aside as Nola approached the black, gaping crevice. Nola
suspected that it was more to ogle her ass then to give her more
room. She'd have to talk to The Brothers about having Maria
participate in some of the games.
          When Nola's head disappeared beneath the opening, the girl had
lowered the slab into position. Here was no way Nola could retrace
her steps.
          After an eternity in the dark, in the cold, in the air barely
fit to breathe, Nola reached the bottom of the narrow tunnel. She
realized she was up to her ankles in stagnant water. She staggered
through the gooey mess until she reached a door that was ajar. She
pushed her way in and found herself back in time hundreds of years.
          Real torches burned against black stained pillars. A huge fire
burned against one wall providing heat for her trembling body. Fire
also burned in drum-like containers, heating rods and hooks and
pinchers and God only knows what else. Rusted chain ending in
manacles hung everywhere.
          The room looked like it went on forever. The reason for that,
of course, was the collection of strategically located mirrors, the
only concession to the twentieth century.
          In the middle of the stone chamber, chain hung suspended from
the ceiling, poised directly over a metal bar fastened to a heavy-
duty ring imbedded into the concrete floor.
          The first things Nola saw as she entered the room were dozens
and dozens of frowning torturers, their multiplied contempt enough
to melt surgical steel. They were naked, hideous, bloated old men,
bald and toothless, sagging bellies, covered with scars and
blotches, their penises hanging between their legs like dead squid.
But that would change the moment the victim began to writhe under
their punishing hands.
          "You're late woman."
          "Yes, I know...I'm sorry. It's not my fault. The drive got
caught in traffic...."
          "That's a reason, not an excuse," one of the beasts spat.
          Nola said nothing. The Brothers, as a unit, ran two grand. But
they were worth it...boy, were they worth it.
          Nola wasn't a usual punishment freak. At least that was what
she like to think. She needed to be degraded by ugly men. She
needed to be hurt, to be tortured...to be made to pay for all that
she had done in the past. She was a sinner. She knew it. A dirty,
wretched sinner who deserved the harshest of treatment at the hands
of punishing demons. She was weak and it was her due to be
disciplined by those stronger than she was. She needed to have her
sins ripped from her flesh. Her sins haunted her waking hours,
buzzing in the back of her brain like flies hovering over ripe
garbage. However, the problem was...Nola couldn't stand pain.
          Her sensory threshold was exceptionally low. If anyone even
pincher her, she screamed and writhed as if she'd been stabbed.
There was no way she could bring herself to suffer the
mortifications of the flesh, no matter how much she wished to
endure them. Over the years she had drifted from dungeon to
dungeon, in an attempt to find the fiends capable of bringing her
fantasies to life. 
          When she explained her predicament to The Brothers, they
suggested the use of what they called a surrogate body, a stand-in
who would undergo the scouring that Nola so badly needed. At first,
she was dubious and suspicious of the extra cost, but they
eventually talked her into it.
          She never knew the name of the original surrogate, not that it
mattered. No doubt some meaningless run-away. She wore a brutal
black leather hood, popular with the gay S&M crowd, and nothing
else. At first, the sight of another woman's breasts and genitals
made Nola uncomfortable, but as The Brothers began administering
their peculiar brand of mercy to the surrogate, it was surprisingly
easy for her to project her own face over the black leather cowl.
Whenever The Brothers would bruise or burn or whip the surrogate,
Nola found herself screaming bloody murder, as if they were her own
flesh they were working on. 
          That was her first interrogation with The Brothers and far
from the last. Over the next six months Nola surrendered more
information about her needs and now she was in a room where
everything was real.
          "Did you get a good stand-in this time? I didn't like the one
you picked last time. You know....." she stammered, a little unsure
of herself, not knowing why yet somewhat ashamed of revealing dark
secrets... "she had breasts and hair down there...."
          Their gruesome toothless smiles were hideous. "We think you'll
find this week's entertainment more to your tastes!"
          They went to a door Nola hadn't seen and led the surrogate
into the room. Her head...like those of the ones before...was
shrouded by a heavy leather mask, the mouth zippered shut. Outside
of the manacles fitted to her wrists and ankles, the victim was
completely naked. At first, she thought it might be Maria and her
heart jumped in excitement but then she realized this was really a
child, somewhere between eight and twelve. There was no way to tell
exactly how old she was, but Nola suspected she was quite young,
certainly pre-pube, with just the beginnings of breasts, tiny
little jiggly things, narrow hips, but thrusting, sexy buttocks and
no pubic hair.
          She seemed unsteady on her feet as the wrist restraints were
fastened to the hanging chains over her head. When they lifted her
arms, her small breasts disappeared. Then her ankles were secured
to the bottom bar. Nola swallowed hard.
          Then, a second surprise. The door opened again, and a second
victim appeared. Like the girl, the boy was hooded, bare naked and
bound at the wrists and ankles. He was probably older than twelve,
thirteen, fourteen at the most. He had genital hair and a soft
body, a bit of a belly, an example of a boy used to a good life.
          At the sight of the boy's penis and testicles, Nola felt
forbidden urges rock her usual firm composure. They intensified as
the sadists strung the boy up facing the girl but with room to work
between the suspended bodies, wrists shackled to a single chain,
his ankles widely separated, held by a spreader bar clamped to his
knees.
          One of the men left the room and reentered, pushing a wheeled
instrument tray like those found in operating rooms. Arrayed across
its gleaming surface was a collection of paddles, leather throngs,
alligator clamps, carpet needles, wire brushes, dildos and candles.
The second shelf held several thin canes, a few thick lengths of
bamboo, leather straps of various thicknesses and lengths, a riding
crop and other metal items that Nola didn't recognize.
          Nola could tell that it was going to be a particularly
memorable interrogation.
          One of the brutes selected a broad paddle made from stiff
leather and began circling the girl, lightly tapping the palm of
his hand as he spoke.
          "What is your name, woman?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He was
a man used to being answered promptly and with respect. The
surrogate said nothing. Not that she could, since the mouth of the
thick leather hood was securely zippered shut.
          Nola licked her lips, her eyes shifting from the flesh and
blood participants to their mirror images and back again. It had
begun. From here on, everything would go as it always did,
following a script she herself had carefully prepared. Although
Nola allowed The Brothers a certain amount of latitude in the kinds
of punishments they meted out and in what order they could do it...
after all, she didn't want to become bored by predictability
...every word was part of an elaborate ritual with personal
meaning.
          "I said, what is your name, cunt?" The leather paddle
connected with the girl's naked left buttock, making a sound like
a hand striking wet mud. The child yelped and tried to get away,
but was held in place by the manacles.
          "Nola! My name is Nola!" Nola barked in place of the
surrogate's voice, sweat beading her upper lip. Her eyes were fixed
on the crimson welt on the girl's left buttock.
          "Your name is Nola what?" The man snapped, bringing the
paddle's broad surface down on the girl-child's other ass-cheek.
Again the surprised yelp and shaking of shackles.
          "My name is Nola Augustine!" she rasped. This part always made
her excited because it commenced her exposure. 
          Maria entered the dank, damp dungeon. She snatched up one of
the leather thongs and looped it around the boy's cock, just behind
the head, then yanked it forward with a sharp jerk, stretching it.
The men chose thin birch rods and made a few experimental cuts with
the rods, smiling to themselves at they sliced the air.
          "Did you ever serve as a counsellor for a place called Kiddies
Paradise?"
          Nola watched the birch cut a whistling arc through the air,
licking her lips in anticipation of the blows she knew was sure to
follow. The smell of sweat and excitement made the crypt feel
hotter and smellier that it was minutes ago.
          "Answer me when I talk to you, cunt!" shrieked the fat man,
bringing the cane down on the length of the boy's penis. At the
same time, his partner cracked his rod over the nipples of the
helpless girl.
          The children's screams were muffled by the masks, but Nola
helped them give vent to the pain by collapsing to the filthy
mattress on the floor, rolling around and clutching her groin and
breasts as if she had just taken the blows herself.
          "Yes! Yes! Yes! I was a counsellor there for a couple of
summers, when I was fifteen, sixteen years old."
          The fat men continued to strike the surrogates, one moving his
attention from the boys crotch to his thighs and lower abdomen; the
other from the girl's breasts to her belly and down to her thighs,
leaving wicked-looking bleeding welts.
          Nola groaned and wailed and clawed at the filthy mattress as
if it were her flesh taking the punishment, not those faceless,
nameless strangers. The surrogates jerked and thrashed and shouted
for help, but they were held fast by the manacles. The secure grasp
on the thong looped around the boy's penis added to his torture.
          The mattress was damp and smelled horrible. It was covered
with stains, semen, blood, body fluids but Nola was too far into
her passion even to care.
          It was obvious to Nola that this evening's surrogates had not
realized what they were getting into. All the better. Nola
preferred it when her stand-ins were normal. She disliked the ones
who were into S&M, or the rent boys and girls who were used to
weathering the worst degradations. She always had the sneaking
suspicion that the professionals were faking it. But these kids
honestly didn't appreciate what was being done to them. It made it
a lot easier for Nola to project her own face onto the black
leather where the childrens' should have been. The pressure in
Nola's groin grew.
          The men turned away from the struggling youths and handed the
birches, now dripping blood, to Maria who carefully cleaned their
length with a hand towel and placed them back on the tray. Maria
glanced at Nola as she rolled on the mattress, right hand
frantically stroking her sex.
          She picked up one of the larger dildos and stroked its hard
length. In her tiny hands the artificial cock looked even bigger.
The men went over to the cart and chose the beeswax candles and a
cigarette lighter. Nola nodded, approving their selection. Good.
Very good. Beeswax melts at a higher temperature than regular
candles, which made it perfect for coercing confessions.
          Another gross fat creature entered the dungeon. He took the
riding crop from the tray.
          "While you were a counsellor at Kiddies Paradise...did you
ever do anything....bad?"
          Nola licked her lips. "I don't understand. Wh...what do you
mean by bad?"
          They struck the wheel on the lighters and a multitude of flame
jumped into existence in the mirrors. Nola gasped and trembled, her
skin tightening in anticipation of the burning kiss of candle wax.
          "Don't shit us, cunt," one of The Brothers snapped, striking
the female across the ribs with the riding crop. As the surrogates
once more tried to escape the blows raining down on them, Maria,
crouching between the boy's spread-eagled legs, rammed the dildo
upward, spearing the boy. His scream was fairly loud, albeit muted
by the leather mask. 
          "I confess! I confess!" Nola blubbered, her body seized with
spasms of shame and pleasure. "I did it! I did it!"
          "Did what, cunt?" sneered one of the men, pointing to the
boy's abused genitals. Maria nodded her understanding and began
dribbling melting wax onto his exposed groin. The other fat beast
treated the girl's nipples to the wax. They shrieked and began
thrashing about even more intensely than before making the manacles
rattle.
          "What did you do?"
          Nola pressed her fevered forehead against the reeking
mattress, her breath coming in gasps. Her guilt burned between her
legs, as if smeared with molten wax. The need to confess her sins,
to speak the unspeakable, was reaching its zenith.
          The surrogates continued to jerk and whimper and twitch as hot
wax dribbled into their armpits and onto their nipples.
          "What did you do, Nola? Tell us what you did!"
          "I...I..." Nola wiped at the sweat dribbling down her head
into her eyes. This part was always the hardest...and the most
delicious. Decades of having kept silent, of hiding the truth away
from everyone, had created a natural reticence on her part. Only
the ritual of the interrogation could bring her to breach the
ingrained wall of self-preservation and allow her to speak the
truth...to admit to her crimes...only then could she attain the
release of forgiveness...the spasm than signalled absolution and
erased her sins in orgasm and blood.
          "Tell us!" Nola flinched as the riding crop smacked against
naked buttocks. "Tell us!"
          "I did things to children."
          The words leapt from her lips like pus from a wound. She could
almost see them hovering in front of her, given life and substance
by the simple act of speaking it aloud. Now that the unspeakable
had finally been spoken, Nola could feel her past pressing itself
against her. She had to confess, spill her guts, purge herself of
the evil secrets boiling away in her gut and her cunt.
          "I took them to the cabin on the lake. Usually at night.
Sometimes during the day, when I knew no one would be around. But
that was dangerous. But sometimes I couldn't wait. I had to do
things to them right then."
          Mean eyes narrowed, but they didn't look surprised; they
nodded as if Nola had confirmed all their suspicions. "Did you do
things to all the children you were in charge of?"
          "No. Not all of them. That would have been dangerous."
          "Who then!" The riding crops assaulted the victims' buttocks,
drawing blood.
          "Kids from orphanages. Welfare stuff. Niggers or spics or
Mexicans. Their parents...if they had any...were junkies or whores
or dead. I told them that I was their friend. I told them I was the
only one who really cared about what happened to them. I'd give
them candy and let them ride the ponies if they didn't cry and
acted like they liked it."
          "How many children did you do things to, Nola?"
          The riding crops gouged naked flesh.
          "I can't remember. Thirty,I think. Maybe more."
          "Did you just rape little girls? Or did you rape little boys
too?"
          Nola frowned. That wasn't one of the questions they were
supposed to ask. And they weren't supposed to use the word "rape".
That was too harsh. Too close to the reality behind her version of
the truth. She was taken aback by the vehemence in the voice as
well. For a brief second she saw genuine hate blazing in their
eyes. This deviation from the ritual was bringing her down.
          "Stick to the script. I'm not paying you to improvise." She
tried to make herself sound like she was in her boardroom, but it
came out sounding whiny. It was hard to come across as
authoritative while grovelling naked on a filthy mattress,
masturbating.
          They nodded their understanding, professional masks sliding
back into place.
          The rest of the session went on as scripted, with the men
continuing her interrogation while they tortured the children,
prodding and poking with the needles, using matches on their
genitals, clamping their nipples with the steel alligator clamps,
flogging their writhing buttocks with the straps. Each punishment
meted out to the hapless surrogates prompted more screams, wails
and futile attempts at escape, while Nola confessed in detail to
the molestation of dozens of equally nameless, faceless children.
          Nola was close to the edge. Sweat was pouring off her body.
Her arm ached from massaging her swollen clitoris. She looked away
from the naked youths suspended in the middle of the dungeon to
stare at the reflections of her own self abuse cast by the mirrors.
She was surrounded by hundreds of throbbing, swelling, twitching
erections.
          "Are you sorry, Nola? Are you honestly and truly sorry for
your wrongdoing?"
          "Yes." It was almost impossible to speak because of the
tightness in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her groin
throbbed, keeping time with the pulse pounding away in her temples.
The leather masks of the surrogates seemed to twist and blur,
taking on familiar features. He blinded to clear his vision, but
all it did was make the tears run down her cheeks.
          "You are a sinner, Nola." The words were cold and sharp. "The
world's biggest sinner. And the wages of sin are..."
          "Never-ending torture!" she screamed as the orgasm ripped her
body. The orgasm was so powerful it made her dizzy and she fell
into a faint,  burying her face in the foul mattress.
                                   * * *
          When her head cleared, moments later, she realized something
was horribly wrong. Nola got to her feet, her eyes bugging out with
fear, Her eyes sought the mirrors for answers to the questions she
dare not speak, but all she saw were the multiple images of the
punished children.
          One of the fat men was there behind her, his taloned fingers
digging deep into the flesh at the base of her neck. Nola was
surprised...and frightened...by how strong he was. He pushed her
against the blood-smeared body, gripping her so tightly there was
no way to look away from the girl's leather bound head.                                 Chapter 3

          "I realize we're rather off-script here, Nola," Maria sneered,
her voice buzzing in Nola's captive ear. "But I thought you might
like to know who your stand-in for tonight was. After all, she did
give her all for you, didn't she?" Maria motioned for one of the
men to unlace the hood covering the girl's head.
          The sound that came out of Nola when she saw the face
underneath the mask was not unlike the should that the children she
took to the cabin used to made, twenty years ago. When she could
finally summon the wit to speak, all she could say was, "Oh...God"
over and over.
          The surrogate had indeed been young. Eleven, in fact. Nola
knew exactly how old the girl was because she was her daughter. And
she knew, oh, how she knew, who the boy was. Her head reeled when
his hood was released and she saw her thirteen year old son.
          "They were pathetically easy to catch, a little smack and
chloral hydrate, and they were ours: signed, sealed and delivered.
Or should we say, they were yours?"
          Nola tried to tear herself away from the grip, but she could
not break free. "You're crazy!" she sobbed. "What the hell did you
do this for? Why? Why!!!?"
          "Come on, Nola," snorted Maria, shaking chloroform onto the
girl-child's used pair of panties. "You're not a complete idiot!
Why do you think? You've only been going on about it all fucking
night!"
          Before Nola could respond, Maria clamped the soaked panties
over her nose and mouth and everything went away.
          For a while.
                                   * * *
          When she came back to her senses, it was to find herself
dangling in the place of her children. They lay, brutally hog-tied,
on the putrid mattress. Nola wanted to weep for her violated off-
spring but she was too frightened by her predicament to do more
than whimper.
          "So, you're back." Maria grabbed Nola's hair and yanked on it
so that she was forced to look into her face.
          "Why?" was the only word she could croak out. All the others
he might have used seemed to have fled.
          "Why?"
          Maria stared at her for a heartbeat, then laughed. Although
she did not move to strike her, the laugh was enough to make Nola
flinch. "You really haven't a clue, have you? After confessing to
us week after week, after all this time; you still don't know why
we'd do such a thing?"
          "It...it was all a fantasy. Not real. I never did things...to
those children."
          "I don't think you're telling us the truth...are you, Ice
Lady?"
          Something cold and hard uncoiled inside Nola's belly. She
stare at Maria's face; harder than she ever had before. She wasn't
looking at her as a woman appraises another beautiful woman; this
time she was trying to find something familiar in the shape of her
lips, the cast of her nose, the tilt of her eyes, without success.
          "How...how did you know that was my name as a camp counsellor?
I never mentioned that in the script..."
          "Oh, there's quite a lot we know about you, Nola. Or should I
say Ms. Augustine? You see, I recognized you even though you didn't
recognize me."
          "What...what are you saying?"
          "Simple. My mother was a whore. She got knifed by some
pervert. I got sent to some orphanage. They sent me off to summer
camp and I met this really nice counsellor. I was just seven years
old, just a little spic kid."
          Nola shook her head and made another trapped animal sound.
          "I thought you'd caught on to us when I asked if you raped
little boys." Maria's tone of voice was almost conversational. "I
thought you looked familiar the first time you came to the dungeon,
but I wasn't sure. After all, it was two decades ago. Not that time
has had an effect on my memory. I never forgot the things you did
to me, and made me do, in that cabin, Ice Lady. I never imagined
that you'd show back up in my life. And I certainly never dreamed
;you'd turn out to be Nola Augustine, the president of Augustine
Investments. Imagine! Our Ice Lady, an executive! I wonder what the
Journal would say if they found out you were a serial child
molester with a taste for sexual torture.
          One of the fat men reentered the room, pushing a new
instrument tray in front of him.
          "When you started talking about the camp, that's when I knew
it was you." She snorted derisively and rolled her eyes. But I
recognized you, Ice Lady. Your sins identified you as surely as
fingerprints.
          "There's no reason for you to do this," Nola blubbered. "I'm
sorry if I hurt you. But that was a long time ago. I'm sorry for
everything I did, you know that..."
          "Bullshit!" Maria snapped, all pretence at being friendly
dropped. "You're not sorry and you fuckin' know it! Thinking about
fucking little kids gets you going. You'd still be out there
stuffing your fist up bald pussies if you thought you could get
away with it! But you're chicken! You're not sorry about a
goddammed thing, confessing your sins while some poor kids takes
the rap for you is just a way for you to get your kicks and keep
your ass outta trouble!"
          "No, you don't understand. I really do regret all those things
I did. I really do want to atone for my sins! It's just that I'm
weak. I was scared..."
          "I bet you're scared!" Maria laughed humourlessly. "You're
afraid of what would happen if people found out! You'd lose your
fancy house and your over priced investment racket!"
          "Please..."
          "You want to atone for your sins? Well, you're gonna..!"
          "You're not going to get away with this," Nola stammered, her
eyes never leaving Maria's hand as she picked up the thin cane. Her
eyes bugged when the two fat men also selected the birch rods.
          "Maybe yes. Maybe no," Maria sighed. The Brothers and I would
like to know the number of the Swiss bank account you've been using
to hide certain funds from the tax people."
          Three canes bit into naked woman-flesh.               Curt Strap's NOLA series as of 10 Sept 1995. 
      If you have any suggested titles and/or scenarios let me know.

Nola1.txt      "The Beginning" (Nola's introduction to S&M) 
Nola2.txt      "The Chief of Police" (Nola and daughters on a Turkish Island)
Nola3.txt      "The Augustines" (Nola and girls learn the ropes)
Nola4.txt      "The Reverend" (Nola and others 'repent' in minister's cellar)
Nola5.txt      "The Island" (don't ask, you might get it)
Nola6.txt      "The Children" (friend takes over family discipline)
Nola7.txt      "The Rape Photographer" (Just what it implies)
Nola8.txt      "The Porn Producers" (don't make videos with this family)
Nola9.txt      "The Nurse" (tortured by Viet Cong, brutal)
Nola10.txt     "The Children At Play" AKA Children.zip (captured nanny)
Nola11.txt     "The Game" AKA Sarah.zip (young Nola learns about savagery)
Nola12.txt     "The Doctor" (limited distribution) (Nola with Dr. Mengale??)
Nola13.txt     "The Farm" (limited distribution, BBS user's special request)
Nola14.txt     "The Model" (Innocent model gets into S&M photography)
Nola15.txt     "Blackmailing Nola" (son and friend blackmail Nola)
Nola16.txt     "Blackmailing Tashia" (brother and friend blackmail Tashia)
Nola17.txt     "The Spy" (The name says it all, but don't get caught)
Nola18.txt     "The Tudor" AKA Simone.zip (mom hires sadist as girl's tutor)
Nola19.txt     "The Inquisition" AKA Inquis.zip (Nola in 1492)
Nola20.txt     "The Cottage" (sadists take a girl to a cottage for S&M fun)
Nola21.txt     "The Convent" (husband gets vile revenge on wife and daughter)
Nola22.txt     "The Cop" (incomplete)
Nola23.txt     "The Reporter" (Moral? - mind your own business or else)
Nola24.txt     "The Musician" (street musician and daughter get taken)
Nola25A.txt    "Nola and Tashia" (Nola humiliated by daughter) or
Nola25B.txt    "Nola and Jeremy" (Nola humiliated by son)(same story)
               (The wonders of Wordperfect's search & replace)
Nola26.txt     "The Prison Matron" (inmates get Nola, user's special request)
Nola27.txt     "The Complex" (house of horrors??)
Nola28.txt     "The Cruise" (includes Pamela1.zip to chap 7)
Nola29.txt     "The Scout Troop" (user's special request)
Nola30.txt     "The Big Brother" (Nola gets a sadistic big brother)
Nola31.txt     "The Exhibitionist" (self-explanatory)
Nola32.txt     "The Asylum" (limited distribution, user's special request)
Nola33.txt     "The Cellar" (terror and torture, what else do I write about?)
Nola34.txt     "The Businesswoman" (Caught in a double-cross)
Nola35.txt     Un-named (incomplete)
Nola36.txt     "The Troller" (Nola picked up by a serial sadist)
Nola37.txt     Un-named as of today
Nola38.txt     "The Cheerleaders"
Nola39.txt     "The Terrorist"
Nola40.txt     "The Indians" (inspired by Mister Phil)
Nola41.txt     "The Law" (a shady policewoman gets hers)
Nola42.txt     "The Freak Show" (Tashia is sold by Nola to a circus)
Nola43.txt     "The Co-eds" (Nola and friends abused in a biker bar)
Nola44.txt     "The Thief" (Nola tries blackmail with dire consequences)
Nola45.txt     "The Monastery" (girl caught by a savage cult)
Nola46.txt     "The Little Girls" (Nola steals, hides in Spain, gets caught)
Nola47.txt     "The Boy" (An abused little boy takes vengence on Aunt Nola)
Nola48.txt     "The Amusement Park" (Better hope your next boyfriend is sane)
Nola49.txt     "The Judge" aka "The Set-Up" (Nola yearns for judgement day)
Nola50.txt     Un-named (incomplete, I don't know where it's going)
Nola51.txt     Un-named (mostly humiliation, so far)
Nola52.txt     "The Pirates" (Family vacation turns into nightmare)
Nola53.txt     "The Gym Teacher" (Gym Teacher gives red hot lessons)
Nola54.txt     "The Naughty Girls" (you know what happens to them)
Nola55.txt     
Nola56.txt     
Nola57.txt     "The Dwarfs" (Creatures with a hunger for cold vengeance)
Nola58.txt     "The Brothers" (Sinner learns the true meaning of pain)
Nola101.txt    "The Runaway" (Tashia runs away with dire consequences)
Nola102.txt    "The Mexican Jail" (don't cross the border with a stranger)
Nola103.txt    "The Babysitter" (spare the rod?? not in my stories!!)
Nola104.txt    "The Neighbour" (neighbour takes charge of Tashia)
Nola105.txt    "The Tourist (Don't ask a rogue cop for directions)
Nola106.txt    "The Teacher" (Sometimes students know more than teachers)
Nola107.txt    "Un-named" (can't get going on this one, ideas?)
Nola108.txt    "Un-named" (same as 107, help!)
Nola109.txt    "The Hackers" (Computer games by Nola leads to brutality)
Nola110.txt    "The School Girls" (Torture and rape, brutal, young)
Nola111.txt    "The Sheriff" (Torture and rape, brutal, young)
Nola112.txt    "The Bible Camp" (It isn't what the name implies, violent)
Nola113.txt    "The Gang" (A boys night out includes torture and rape, young)
Nola114.txt    "The Boys Club" (School kids make Tashia's life hell)
Nola115.txt    "The Boys Next Door" (Brothers get neighbour and daughter)
Nola116.txt    "The Ordeal" (Forced to confess by oriental captors)
Nola117.txt    "The Vacation" (Tashia and friend meet some bad characters)
Nola118.txt    "Un-named" (just at the idea stage)
Nola119.txt    "Un-named" (just at the idea stage)
Nola120.txt    "The Party" (birthday party turns rough)
Nola121.txt    "Un-named" (just at the idea stage)
Nola122.txt    "Un-named" (just at the idea stage)
Nola123.txt    "Un-named" (just an idea, horror and pain, of course)
Nola124.txt    "Un-named" (just an idea, foul as usual)
Nola125.txt    "The Birthday Party" (Tashia gets a surprise party)
Nola126.txt    "The Interrogation" (Nola will tell, sooner or later)
Nola127.txt    "The Night Creatures" (You really don't want to meet them)
Nola128.txt    "The Robbery" (Nola and Tashia in wrong place at right time)
Nola129.txt    "Un-named" (just an idea right now)