I'm sure that by now you're sick and tired of all these
     smug little notices authors of raunchy S&M and kiddie 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 RAUNCHY S&M AND KIDDIE SEX
        IF YOU DON"T LIKE THIS SHIT, THEN DON'T READ IT!

                         END OF WARNING


                                NOLA5.TXT

                              "The Island"
                             "By Curt Strap                              
                            
                          Part 1 - Nola Augustine

     He heard the boat before he saw it. Hassan Turabi glanced at his
watch as he stepped outside and watched the pier. It was right on time,
as usual. As the engine's noise grew louder the boat appeared in the
narrow channel. It was the old converted minesweeper and its appearance
greatly pleased the obese man who watched approach the dock. Its
presence meant one thing: A Customer.
     The island nation of Khalil is located off the coast of Turkey. It
is an independent country of approximately 50 square miles covered with
tropical vegetation. Khalil is a very wealthy country. The "taxes" which
it makes to the government of Turkey assures its peaceful existence
along with its absolute privacy. Nobody comes to Khalil without an
invitation. Its only access is by the sea on the East coast. Khalil's
only business is a very expensive and a very private one. For an
enormous price, wealthy customers can arrange for a very special revenge
for those who had the stupidity to cross them...  
     The only passenger on the boat which was just approaching the pier
was a woman who had corresponded with Mr. Turabi about purchasing his
services. Her name was Nola Augustine, and she was a fabulously wealthy
heiress from England. Both of her parents had died late last year in a
plane crash. Now, she had become the sole heiress to a fortune well in
excess of 100 million dollars. Her thirty-fifth birthday, just three
days after the accident, had been the occasion of her official
inheritance.
     All of her life Nola had been used to getting anything she wanted.
She was noted for a quick temper and her vicious passion for "getting
even" with anyone who crossed her path. The years she had spent waiting
to control the family fortune had seemed like forever to her. She was
appalled at not having immediate access to all of the money and was
prone to fits of intense anger towards anyone who prevented her from
doing what she wanted. Now, three months after getting all the money,
she had already started paying off a few debts. She knew what money was
for and how to use it. She had ordered that the family bankers, lawyers,
and even salespeople at the fashionable stores she shopped in, be fired.
She forced the minority shareholders in her father's businesses into
bankruptcy. She had made sure they all knew it was her who had done it
to them and gloated at the misery it had caused them. One of her
favourite moments was when one of the lawyers responsible for handling
her trust fund came to her begging her not to have him fired. He had a
family with small children and he claimed he was only following her
father's orders when he had restricted access to funds during the past
years. Nola sat smirking as the man begged for his job back then laughed
in his face! She promised him he'd never work in a legal office in
England again.
     A month ago she had contacted Mr. Turabi and inquired about
purchasing his very special services with respect to a woman, the
woman's young daughter and the girl's father who, she said, had made her
life especially difficult for a number of years. When Turabi told her
that his services were quite expensive she merely laughed and assured
him that in this particular case she was prepared to go all out. Money
was no object. That statement had earned her an invitation to the
Island.
     As the twin propellers stopped turning, the boat was pulled close
to the small dock and secured. A worker reached out a hand to help Miss
Nola Augustine down the ramp. Turabi raised an appreciative eyebrow at
the guest's long legs. As Nola stepped onto the dock the worker handed
her a glass of champagne then went aboard to fetch her bags. 
     "Welcome to Khalil, Miss Augustine!" Turabi beamed as he walked up
to the trim redhead and offered her his hand. "I hope this place is as
good as you told me on the phone, Hassan." she sneered, ignoring his
hand and looking around. "It looks like the middle of nowhere. Somehow I
expected... more." she sniffed and took a sip from her glass.
     "I assure you, this is the middle of nowhere, Miss Augustine."
Turabi countered as he looked at his arrogant guest. "This assures our
privacy and our complete non-interference from the outside world. We are
virtually cut off from everything here. Most countries don't even know
we exist, and those that do leave us alone, or make use of our services.
We are an independent nation. We make and enforce our own laws. I assure
you that we are in a position to even exceed your own expectations in
our business matter."
     "Where do I stay?" she asked, still not satisfied with his answer.
     "We have a special guest house. I'm sure you will be quite
comfortable. As soon as you have settled in and rested please join me
for lunch on the veranda. I will be happy to explain how things work
here and take you on a little tour of our facilities."
     Nola's eyebrows lifted slightly at this. She had been looking
forward to a tour of this very special place ever since she first found
out about its existence. She let the large man who was carrying her bags
lead her to her quarters. As they walked she was startled to hear what
sounded like a moan off in the distance. Her ears perked, listening as
she walked. There it was again! It sounded human, and oh so pathetic.
Female. She glanced around trying to find its source but couldn't locate
it before they arrived at the guest house. She decided that she'd only
need a short rest before joining Turabi for lunch and asked the guard to
inform him that she'd be meeting with him in a half hour. "And tell him
not to be late. I'm not used to waiting!" The guard looked at her with a
threatening stare, his eyes black with fury. Inside, Nola laughed,
wondering just how far she could push these stupid people. 
     An hour later Nola was stepping outside and heading towards the
main building. She had showered slowly, planning to be late, then
slipped on a pair of tan hiking shorts and a safari shirt. She also wore
socks and a pair of hiking boots, as she didn't know what might be
crawling or slithering around in a place like this, and she didn't
relish finding out. She had a horrible fear of creepy, crawly, biting
things.
     Turabi was already seated and forced a smile as she approached. She
swayed her hips confidently as she walked, looking stunning in the short
tight hiking shorts she had intentionally selected. She kept her ears
tuned for the moaning sound she had heard earlier but was disappointed
to hear nothing but the sounds of birds and the wind in the trees. "Oh
well, soon enough" she thought as she climbed up the three small steps
and stood on the veranda.
     "You look gorgeous, Miss Augustine!" he gazed appreciatively at her
trim body. "Do you mind if I call you Nola?"
     "Only my friends call me Nola." she sneered at him. "This is a
business relationship, Hassan. She used his first name intentionally. I
prefer Ms. Augustine, if you please."
     Turabi cleared his throat and moved his hands apologetically. "As
you wish Mizz Augustine" he said with a very slight emphasis on the
`Mizz'. She was a bitch alright, he noted as he watched her sit and then
deliberately cross her legs. He noticed that she was intentionally
giving him a good view of her legs as she leaned back and picked up her
glass of champagne. Oh well, it was her money that mattered. He inwardly
felt a little sorry for whomever the poor unfortunate was who had
crossed her and prompted her need for his special services. 
     "I hope you found your quarters acceptable, Ms. Augustine?" As she
nodded curtly he picked up his own glass and continued:  "A little
history of Khalil is in order Ms. Augustine. As you no doubt already
know, we operate this business as a service to those who can afford us.
We've been in operation for a dozen years. Everything we do here is
legal, you see. We are a sovereign nation. I bought the island from the
Turk's twelve years ago and since then we have maintained, shall we say,
very good relations with our larger neighbour. They, in turn, assure us
of our privacy and leave us alone." 
     "The law here, Ms. Augustine, is my law. I make the rules. I am the
king if you will. Whatever I say here goes and there is no appeal. Once
sentenced to Khalil, escape is impossible. Even if one knew where to go
they would have to cross the channel to Turkey. Only two inmates have
ever tried it over the years. One of them died horribly in the water.
Sharks got her, and the other woman was caught by the Turks and
returned. Believe me, after seeing her punishment nobody has ever tried
again."
     Nola tried to look casual, but inside she was intensely interested
in this historical narrative. No escape was possible...she felt comfort
in hearing those words.
     "Another thing you may or may not know is that we have three
compounds in Khalil. They're about 10 miles apart and separated by a
dirt road. The second compound is for our male inmates while this one
here is for our female inmates. The third compound is reserved for our
younger guests. The methods employed are similar for each special
circumstance. If time permits perhaps you might enjoy a tour of both
facilities?"
     "No thanks, Hassan. What you do, or have done to, those bastards in
the other facility is your own business. I'm interested in this one
right here. I'm anxious to see if you can meet your promises."  Before
he could comment she cut him off and continued:
     "I don't just want revenge, Hassan, I want SATISFACTION." She
practically hissed the last word. "I want the best, or actually the
worst, that money can buy for a certain bitch, her kid, and the kid's
father. They need a lesson that neither they nor anyone else will ever
forget. I could have them killed, but that would be too simple. Much too
easy. I want them very much alive and punished to the extremes that you
or I or anyone could imagine. Then I want her taken beyond..."
     Turabi cleared his throat to interrupt. "Yes, you mentioned that it
was a woman, a man and a girl that you wanted to commit to our care. I
am prepared to take you on a tour of our facility so you can see for
yourself what is in store for them. I'm sure you will approve. Before we
do that, however, we have to talk about money."
     "I told you, money is no object" she stared him right in the eye,
challenging him.
     "Still," he continued, "there are rates for various services. We
charge 250,000 dollars for incidentals. That covers the cost of picking
them up and arranging for them to be delivered here. We are very
professional. No one will have the slightest clue where they has
disappeared to and they will be unable to tell exactly where they has
been taken. After that, we contract for a specified period of time and a
particular intensity of punishment. Our minimum period of confinement is
6 months. You can contract for a year, two years, even five years, but
the cost is 1,000,000 US dollars per year and the payment is in advance.
You select the types of punishments to which they will be subjected and,
of course, the types of people who administer the punishment. Once the
money has been delivered we will handle the rest. One important item,
Ms. Augustine - once we start we will complete the contract, no matter
what. We have never reneged on a contract and we never ever will. Even
if you were to have a change of heart and ask to cancel a one year
sentence after only six months we will carry through for the full year.
It's very important that you understand this in advance."
     Nola's eyes widened and flashed excitement.
     "Yessss" she hissed, leaning forward. This was all explained to me
earlier. What has been set in motion cannot be stopped... That's just
perfect...." She leaned forward a little and uncrossed her legs.
     "I want to sentence them to ten years!"
     Turabi was quiet for a moment. The longest term he'd contracted for
was for five years, and that was contracted by a syndicate of men who
had suffered tremendous financial losses due to the treachery of a
female employee. That unfortunate woman was still serving her sentence.
But ten years!
     "Do you realize what you would be condemning them to, Ms.
Augustine?" Your hatred may diminish in a year or two, but once the
process has started there is no way out for them. And, as I explained,
all of the money would be due up front." 
     "It's you who doesn't understand, Turabi. Are you stupid? I don't
care about the money. Ten years at a million per year is 10 million
dollars. I can afford that, easily. As a matter of fact, I'm prepared to
pay you that amount today, plus more, if necessary, for extras. I have
some specific requirements in mind and I'm sure I'll think of some
others after the tour. I want this bitch and her kid to have the full
treatment, and more! And the man, well you can go all out on him!"
     Turabi nodded his head and pressing his fingertips together.
     "We can certainly handle any extras that you may desire. The ten
year term is also acceptable." He motioned behind her and then smiled.
"Let's have a little lunch before the tour."
     Nola heard some commotion behind her. She saw Hassan's smiling eyes
riveted on hers and resisted the temptation to turn around. The noise
got closer. She heard a sharp crack and then "Ohhhh!" in a sobbing
female voice. This time she turned around. What she saw made her
involuntarily squeeze her knees together and take a sharp breath. Turabi
noticed her reaction and mentally filed it away for future use.
     Moving across the veranda was a nude woman. She was crawling on all
fours and doing her best not to unbalance a tray that was on her back.
The tray was held in place by a small strap cinched around her belly. On
it were two filled glasses, two plates laden with fruit, some
silverware, and two napkins.
     Behind the crawling female was a young Turkish woman. She was
dressed very provocatively in a miniskirt, boots, and halter top. She
carried a black crop in her hand and was tapping it menacingly in her
palm. As they got closer Nola was able to see that the crawling woman
had a series of welts on her bare ass. Nola squeezed her knees tighter
as she counted over two dozen raised ridges on the bruised buttocks. It
was obvious that she had been whipped terribly, and quite recently. Most
likely with that same crop and by the smiling young woman who was now
prodding her forward with threats of further punishment
     "Ahhh! Here comes lunch now." Turabi beamed. The nude woman crawled
up to them till she was right next to the table. Her head as facing
Turabi and her hips were practically touching Nola's right knee. The
woman picked the contents of the tray up and gently placed them on the
table. She placed the crop on the table next to Nola, then smiling,
turned and walked away, leaving the nude woman still kneeling next to
the table.
     "This is Patricia." Turabi reached his hand down and stroked the
girl on the side of the neck. "Patricia has only been with us a short
while. She used to be a waitress at an exclusive Country Club in Miami.
Like many beautiful young girls she thought that her looks gave her the
right to be rude and nasty. She forgot that her job was to serve and her
conceited attitude made her many enemies. One of her patrons made a
harmless suggestion that they meet later that night for drinks. She
slapped his face and complained loudly that he had propositioned her.
This was a cause of great embarrassment to the patron, as his wife was
present in the room at another table. The patron decided that Patricia
needed a lesson in manners and further training in how to serve her
customers."
     "Patricia will be with us for a year. Her punishment has just begun
and will proceed at a faster pace in the next few weeks under the
careful hand of Miss Hashim, who was the enchanting young lady who
accompanied her to our table. Hashim came to us from one of the Turkish
prisons. She is very experienced in training women. Oh, I see you are
fascinated by her welts."
     Nola realized she had been staring at the girl's ass during the
entire conversation. She looked up sheepishly and saw Turabi smiling at
her.
     "Feel free to touch them. You may even add to them if you choose.
That's why the crop was left next to your plate." He gestured with one
hand while still rubbing Patricia's neck with the other. Nola looked
back at the reddened buttocks then slowly reached a hand forward and
touched her fingertips to one of the welts. Patricia gasped and
shuddered. They were obviously quite tender. Nola was intrigued with the
warmth of Patricia's ass. She fondled both cheeks, eventually using both
hands to cup them and hold them. She picked up the crop and toyed with
it a little, then swung out and gave a vicious whack to the helpless
buttocks before her. Patricia yelped and swivelled her hips to avoid a
second hit. Turabi grabbed her face by the chin and pinched it between
his thumb and fingers. He looked at Nola and they both began eating the
fruits before them. He continued holding onto Patricia's face
with one hand while Nola gave her an occasional slap with the crop as
she ate.
     By the time they had finished, Patricia had been hit at least a
dozen more times. Miss Hashim came and cleared the table, depositing
everything back on Patricia's tray. She then took the crop and used it
to lead her away, slapping at Patricia's ass as she walked next to the
crawling girl, and warning her not to drop anything.
     "Well?" Turabi asked, still holding onto his wine glass.
     "Not bad" Nola conceded. "For a start... A few weeks of that might
be an interesting start for my own bitch. Of course, she'd have to be
cropped much more thoroughly than Patricia."
     "Of course!" Turabi beamed. "After all, you're paying for it." 
     "Yes, I am. And don't forget that, Turabi."
     "And, the kid will be riding on her mother's back, getting the crop
as well."
                                NOLA5.TXT

                              "The Island"
                             "By Curt Strap"

                           Part 2 - The Tour 

     After lunch, Turabi led the way across the grounds towards the
large building next to the visitors' quarters. As they were walking Nola
heard the same moan that she had heard earlier when she had first
arrived. She looked at Turabi and cocked her head questioningly. He
smiled and led her off to the left to the edge of the jungle. He pushed
away some ferns and motioned for her to follow him as he stepped through
and disappeared. 
     Nola went in right behind him. They only went a few paces when they
came to a small clearing. In the centre of the clearing was the source
of the moaning. 
     The ground had been completely cleared of grass. Lying there in the
middle of the clearing was the writhing body of a nude woman. She had
been spread-eagled and staked out on her back. Her arms and legs were
cruelly stretched so tightly that all she could do was wiggle her
fingers and toes and thrash her head and hips. And wiggle them she
did... Nola gasped audibly at the incredible torment that the indecently
spread woman must be experiencing. Her milk white body was covered with
what must have been hundreds of insects. They were like black patches
clumped around her pussy, armpits, and both of her quivering breasts.
     Turabi explained that she had been staked out like this since
morning. Honey had been applied at those places where he particularly
wanted the ants to congregate. The sweetness led them there and once on
those most tender of spots they drove the poor woman half mad in
torment. Those particular ants had tiny jaws which they used to bite and
inject their venom into the white skin of the helpless woman. The bite
is very painful, and, it causes a maddening itch which lasts for several
days to develop around the area of the bite. 
     "This is Ingrid. Please excuse her if she doesn't stand up, but
she's currently... err... preoccupied!" Turabi seemed quite pleased with
his introduction. He clearly enjoyed his profession immensely.
     Ingrid's hips were rotating as much as her tight bonds would allow.
Every second or third revolution she would strain them upwards and
tremble as her head moved back and forth in agony. Her tortured breasts
and nipples did not even have that much freedom. She was blindfolded but
when she heard their presence she began to plead pitifully for release.
Other than her little biting friends she was quite alone. Turabi
explained that one of the matrons came by every hour or so to check on
her and apply more honey if necessary.
     "Ingrid was a notorious tease in Stockholm up until a few months
ago. That was when she had the misfortune to tease the wrong man. A
wealthy businessman whom she had toyed with and eventually made a fool
of decided to have the last laugh. It cost him a small fortune but
Ingrid will be our guest here for the next two years. He specifically
requested that her punishment be one of prolonged and unendurable
torment, and that she spend most of her waking hours pleading. The ants
were my idea. Like it?"
     "My God!" she gasped. "It's... It's unbelievable! How can she stand
that!" Nola involuntarily shuddered as she turned her head away from the
scene.
     "She has no choice" Turabi offered. She'll be like that until
sundown. In another hour a matron will turn her over and put honey on
her anus. I tell you, That's when you'll see some real thrashing!" He
licked his lips as he surveyed the scene. "Tonight she'll be kept tied
on a cot in the main dormitory. The pain and itching from the bites will
reach a peak tomorrow and, of course, she won't be allowed any relief
from that. In about five days the pain will finally stop. We'll play a
few games with her and then the next morning she'll be right back out
here in this special clearing we've made just for her, and the whole
cycle will repeat. Over and over.... for the next two years..."
     Nola nearly choked but tried to maintain a calm exterior.
     "V-very ingenious, Hassan. Th-this will do fine for my own purposes
too. The woman has an abject fear of things that crawl and bite. So far
you've managed to impress me."
     "It's on the list. For both of them." Turabi bowed his head in
acknowledgement, and motioned with his open hand for Nola to follow him
back to the main camp. Before leaving she took one last look back at the
squirming naked woman on the ground. "Yes, this'll do nicely...lots of
it...for starters..." she mumbled to Hassan, who merely smiled but did
not look back himself.
     By this time Nola thought that nothing else she could see would
shock her. As soon as she entered the main building she found out that
she was wrong. 
     They passed into several other rooms where there were women of
various ages and nationalities being punished. Turabi explained that in
most cases the client merely specified a term and an intensity of
punishment, as opposed to a specific regimen, which was the case with
first unfortunate inmates they had seen. 
     In the next room they saw a black woman with her arms stretched and
tied behind her. She was nude, of course, and seemed to be leaning back
against a slightly curved surface, like a large wheel. He arms were
pulled tightly back, which had the effect of jutting her rather large
breasts forward. Her well-muscled thighs were also spread and pulled
backwards, her ankles bound to the same anchor point as her wrists. She
was supported on her back and her buttocks. Her nipples were huge, and
her well-formed breasts were pointing slightly upward. 
     A matron stood before her with a short black riding crop. She was
whacking the crop against the tips of the bound woman's brown nipples,
causing her to wail in agony. She saw the smug look on the woman
wielding the crop. Her teeth were clenched and she smiled each time a
flick of her wrist sent the bound black woman into contortions of agony.
     "Later, a couple of guys will be in there using a rubber hose on
her." Hassan explained.
     The next room contained a huge foul-looking man. He had a petite
Chinese woman draped across his lap in the classic spanking position. As
his large hand descended on her tiny ass it practically covered all of
it. He was varying the tempo and severity, but from the looks of her ass
he had been at it for quite awhile. The Chinese woman was sobbing
uncontrollably and twisting madly on the fellow's lap, trying to avoid
the blows. His big meaty left arm was draped around her holding her
pinned at the waist. Again and again his right hand slapped downward.
Each loud crack of his palm was echoed with a wail and a sob. He paused
occasionally to grip both of her tiny ass cheeks in his one hand and
hold them still. Her red cheeks looked shiny and you could almost feel
the heat that must be flowing through them. All of the women were
spanked daily, Turabi explained. As a matter of fact, Nola hadn't seen
an ass yet that wasn't either red or welted. 
     Turabi noticed that Nola's mouth was hanging open and she hadn't
said a single word. He appeared pleased with himself. Turabi watched her
reaction and made another mental note.
     "Put both of those rooms on the list," Nola whispered softly. 
     "Good choice. And he'll really get off on the little girl."
     Through one of the large windows Nola saw a horrible sight just
outside. Turabi noticed her gaze and led the way outside. 
     A small spit had been set up over a bed of coals. A young woman
with short-cropped blonde hair was lashed to the spit and being turned
like a rotisserie over the coals. She was lashed tightly with ropes, her
back against the spit. The woman's knees were folded up under her and
spread wide to expose both her asshole and gaping hairless pussy to the
heat of the coals. Her tits dangled below her each time she was rotated
downward. She was gagged.
     "Y-you'll kill her!" Nola said, shocked.
     "No..no..no, Ms. Augustine. We don't kill our inmates. It's much
more satisfying, and profitable, to keep them alive through their entire
sentence. This young lady was a real spoiled brat. She spent most of her
time sunning herself by the pool in her string bikinis. Always working
on her tan. Her spurned lesbian lover had her sent here. She suggested
this unique way for poor Cheryl to work on her tan while serving her one
year sentence. The coals are not hot enough to do any permanent damage,
but they do heat her up enough so that you could practically fry an egg
on her ass. She also gets fucked at the end of the day by at least a
dozen of our male guards. Being a true lesbian, she doesn't get the
pleasure out of that that you might think. Quite the reverse..."
     They continued to gaze for awhile as Cheryl was turned over the
coals. The young man turning the spit paused occasionally and used a
small basting brush to lightly brush the woman's puffy cunt lips,
clitoris and anus with tabasco sauce. Although effectively gagged, her
eyes were large and pleading and vividly portrayed the agony she was
experiencing.
     "How about we roast your guests once a week?"
     Nola nodded as a violent shutter racked her body.
     Turabi led the way back inside for the last stop on their tour. 
     "This is my favourite stop of the day" he said eagerly, rubbing his
hands together as he nodded his head towards a door on the left. He
preceded her then held the door open and invited her inside.
     There was a pillory and stocks, a whipping post, an X frame, stout
bondage chairs, and numerous chains and pulleys hanging from the
ceiling. He then showed her what he called the swinging horse: it was a
tri-angular piece of rough wood suspended from two chains. He pointed
out that a victim's hands would be tied behind the back then pulled
upward, thrusting the body forward, and then the feet would be tied to
the wooden bar. Whipping of breasts, buttocks and feet was part of the
punishment inflicted here. Nola blurted out that would mean a girl would
be sitting on her clitoris. There was a moment of stunned silence, as
Hassan sadistically nodded in agreement. 
     A naked older women was bound, suspended, facing the wall.
     "This is Margaret. She's a very proper Englishwoman. She has only
been with us about a month but she seems to be coming along quite
nicely. Her ex-husband complained that while they were married she
steadfastly refused to perform oral sex. She claimed it was dirty and
disgusting. The more he pleaded with her, the more she reviled him. It
eventually played a major part in the rather nasty breakup of their
marriage." 
     "Several months after their divorce, Margaret's ex-husband arranged
with us to have her picked up and brought here for some training.
Margaret spends eight hours a day, every day, in this room. You'll
notice some rather nasty whip marks on her buttocks. Every night she is
pilloried in the main yard and whipped for fifteen minutes. Margaret is
left on display in the pillory for the next hour while other prisoners
in the yard are encouraged to demonstrate to her just how much they like
to cane her ass. It is an ordeal that she will endure every night for
the next three months. At any time, any one of the male guards is
allowed to visit her. She is expected to accommodate him eagerly and
expertly or suffer the consequences. 
     Nola stared at him disbelievingly and just shook her head as he
smiled and guided her out of the room. Once they had left the room he
continued: "When she is returned to her ex-husband and his friends it
will be made clear to her that any failure to live up to their
expectations will result in her being returned for a much longer and
more severe sentence. 
     Turabi shook his head slightly and looked sad. "It's a pity that
she'll only be with us for six months. We're all getting used to
visiting her every day and her improvement in oral techniques has been
remarkable! Perhaps I should see about replacing her when her time is
up..."
     As they were walking back through the building Nola was able to
glimpse Cheryl through the large window, still turning on the spit. All
around her were the sights and sounds of women being punished. 
     A tall and well muscled young black man with shiny skin, wearing
only a small loin cloth to hold his cock and balls, was spreading a
naked white child about twelve between two vertical posts set about
eight feet apart. Her wrists and ankles were tied with strips of leather
which left her hanging, her arms over her head and her legs obscenely
spread. He carried a long evil looking whip over his shoulder. 
     The black whip hissed back like a evil snake and with a loud crack,
it wrapped itself around the girl's belly. She tossed her head back, but
made no sound. The man repeated the stroke only higher, around her tiny
breasts. Again, her head snapped back, but no sound escaped her lips.
Three times more the stroke was repeated. The fourth stroke found its
way into the kid's bare sex. Its searching tip parted the lips of her
vulva and attacked her clitoris.
     Nola saw the girl's chest heave as she took in a deep breath. She
twisted and writhed in brutal agony. She then heard the girl scream. 
Why didn't she scream earlier? It was apparent that the painful lash
took her breath away.
     Six more strokes lacerated the girl's back, thighs, buttocks, and
belly. He wrapped eight lashes across both of her barely visible
breasts. With horrible accuracy the leather licked across the little
girls nipples.
     Nola licked her lips and she put her hand on Hassan's arm. Looking
at her with an obscene grin, he said, "That's what we'll do to your
friend's little girl."
     Hassan Turabi looked at Nola's face. He saw her eyes fill with
desire watching the girl being tortured. The effect of the whip on the
girl's nipples and sex was erotic. The girl's nipples were raw and
swollen from the biting whip and exposure to the hot sun. Again the
leather cracked across both nipples. The bare flesh was defenceless
against the assault of the rawhide. Her glistening body was streaked and
writhing. The leather snapped around both breasts making her body bounce
and surge in a disgusting dance. Nola shuddered, transfixed with the
sensual attraction of the naked girl's twisting and heaving body.
     Hanging bare cunt naked with her arms and legs tied widely spread
and with the whip still attacking her nipples and clitoris, she began to
lose consciousness.
     Ten more times the lash wrapped itself around the half fainting
pre-teen. The leather seemed to cling to her sweating, naked flesh. The
black stud would pull the whip free causing her to jerk and toss her
head back and let out a stifled shriek. 
     Then the sadist stroked himself into full erection and brutally
fucked the twelve year old girl. 
     Nola spoke low and deeply into the Hassan's ear.
     "That nigger sure puts on quite a show."   
     Next to the little girl was a lovely blonde. She was forced to
stand with her back against a frame that resembled an inverted 'Y'. Her
arms were lifted and lashed to a bar that was fastened across the top of
it. Then her legs were obscenely spread to the lower portion of the `Y'.
Straps were used to secure her ankles.
     At the point where her back contacted the pole was another bar. It
had two, one inch spikes which pressed against her back directly behind
her breasts. This forced her to thrust her breasts forward. A smaller
bar was fastened at her lower back to force her to thrust her hips
outward. She was standing obscenely exposed, her sex gaping open.
     "White women are so desirable in bondage, don't you think so?"
     After a long pause, Nola responded with a raised brow, as she
studied the girl's bondage. "White women anger you, why?"
     "They're all bitches with real attitude problems!" he said. "They
learn though!"
     "This slut is about to get an education on the effects of the hot
sun on such a shameful exposure!" Nola exclaimed.
     "Later on she'll be turned around so that her back is to the sun.
In that position her nipples will be against those metal spikes. It'll
make them suffer! And with noticeable anger in his voice he said, "I
have a surprise for her before she is turned around. She will receive
twenty lashes with a cat-o-nine across those lovely tits!" 
     Across the yard were two oriental women. They were both completely
naked. Both of them had long straight hair. These women were well
muscled and full bodied. 
     An old white man was already eyeing these alluring young females. 
Completely naked, his cock standing firmly upward, he wanted to fuck
them now. Except for his huge prick he was a skinny foul looking man.
     For the crime of disrespect to their employer, both women were
sentenced to five years on this island. Today they were going to be
paddled on their breasts and buttocks. Then hanging by their ankles,
they would be strapped on their bare sex. Following the punishment, they
would spend the rest of the afternoon tied together in the hot sun.
     The two women shuffled to the waiting bar and stood with their arms
over their heads, waiting to be bound to an overhead frame. He tied each
of them back to back, with their arms raised up, securely to the cross
bar. He then took up his black paddle, and with a sound that resembled
water being struck; the leather paddle swooped down on exposed tit
flesh. Whop! Smack! With no great speed, drawing out each stroke, the
pervert paddled the four exposed breasts one at a time.
     Time seemed to stand still while the strokes were being delivered. 
Neither women screamed or begged for the paddling to stop. They were
stoic and resolved to absorb the punishment. They jumped and danced
under the paddle. Finally, a combination of pain and humiliation forced
them to voice the first of several muted screams. Their nipples began to
turn red. They tossed their heads around and started a stream of tears
and muffled cries. The nipples were red and swollen. 
     Exposed buttocks reddened and swelled under the pain of the paddle. 
Their round yellow-skinned firmness, turned a reddish brown. Screams
echoed from the lips of the two women. Their bodies glistened with a
combination of oil and sweat. 
     When their tits and asses were beaten raw, they were hung up side
down, their legs and arms spread wide. Ankles were cuffed to the bar,
and wrists were drawn apart and tied to ring bolts imbedded in concrete
pads. They were bound back to back. Red ass cheeks were flattened
together, and bare pussies glistened in the sun.
     Viciously and without mercy, the two inch wide leather strap swung
down finding its mark on the bare cunts of the cruelly bound victims. 
This time seventy-two strokes would be given. The strap cracked into the
bare sex of the first girl. It took only two strokes to make her let out
a shriek. The other one screamed at the first cut of the lash. Hanging
like racks of raw meat, the lashing on their sex caused them to jerk and
spasm. 
     Finally, the strapping of their pussies stopped. They were released
from their inverted bondage, and retied to a pair of upright whipping
posts. The posts were in the shape of an inverted `L' and their wrists
were simply corded together and drawn up over their heads. The firm
tit's exposed again for the strap were still bruised and swollen. The
old man picked up the strap again, and began the dreadful strokes. His
cock was standing upward and flat against his lower belly. A guard
walked up to him and whispered to him. Smiling crudely, he replaced the
strap with a braided rawhide whip about 6 feet long.
     He slashed the long whip in a side arm stroke that wrapped itself,
snake like, around each of the girl's naked breasts. It left a visible
dark line across the bare flesh. The strokes fell rapidly and the welts
rose on the scorched breasts and nipples of the woman. The rawhide whip
wrapped itself again and again around surging breasts and nipples
causing so much pain that the women shrieked in uncontrolled agony.
     Streaked and sweating, the women twisted and writhed in the burning
sun. They fainted two or three times during the lashing.  Both were
revived with a bucket of cold water. The remaining dozen strokes across
their raw nipples left each girl moaning and shuddering in her bondage.
The last strokes seemed to cling to their breasts as if sucking cruelly
on the tortured nipples.
     Steel alligator clips and weights were attached to the ravaged
nipples of both women when their whipping was finished. The weights were
heavy and made their breasts hang downward even though their arms were
still fastened over their heads. 
     The blonde beauty crucified on the "Y" frame in the scorching sun
felt hands fondling her breasts. To the girl's sun burned nipples his
hands were added torture.
     He selected the wicked rawhide strap. It was rough and coarse and
to the blonde's sun burned sensitive skin it would produce horrible
pain. The supple four foot length made little or no sound as it sliced
through the air. It smacked across both breasts. Julia gasped with a
shaky voice and screamed. The man noted that where the leather made
contact across her breasts, as he pulled it away, the skin first turned
white then left a red streak. She was sunburned. Nineteen more times the
strap found its mark on the girl's firm young mounds. After her
strapping, Julia was fucked by the man. He fucked her violently. His
thrusting strokes were deep, firm. He pounded her for almost ten minutes
before he flooded her with his foul semen.
     Hassan told Nola that the men would whip, paddle, strap and fuck
their naked victims for the next three hours.
                                NOLA5.TXT

                              "The Island"
                             "By Curt Strap"

                          Part 3 - The Contract

     Turabi led the way back up to the table on the veranda that they
had lunched at earlier. He invited Nola to be seated. When they were
both comfortable he clasped his hands together on the table and fixed
his gaze upon her. 
     "I hope you enjoyed the tour, Ms. Augustine. There's a lot more
going on here but I'm sure you've seen enough by now to realize that we
are quite capable of meeting your requirements."
     Nola paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. She was looking
down at her own hands.
     "Yes. Yes, Hassan. I'm quite ahhh... satisfied with what I've
seen."
     "Wonderful! I hate to bring up an old subject again, but after
witnessing with your own eyes how severe our punishments are, are you
sure you still want to condemn them to ten years? I mean, you saw what a
normal day would be like. Remember that once started, there will be no
reprieve..."
     "Yes I'm sure, Hassan." Nola snapped at the man. "They deserve
whatever they get! In addition, I mentioned that I have some other
requirements..."
     Turabi seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.
     "I want them to really suffer. Understand?" she pulled a sheet of
paper from a pocket in her shorts. "Here is a sheet of names and
addresses. It contains a long list of the people that they have wronged
over the past years. Most of them have lost their jobs because of her
nastiness and bad-temper. They range from store clerks to bankers.
There's a young lawyer on the list who was particularly hurt by her."
She paused again and took a deep breath. 
     "I want their punishment to be documented and recorded on video. I
want them to know that each month copies are being sent to every person
on that list. I want them to know that they are watching them get their
just rewards and delighting in their degradation. I want them to know
that somewhere back in England their enemies are watching them as they
suffer on your island . Condemned... No reprieve..."
     "And now, the torturers. She has this racial thing, niggers and
orientals. I want the most nauseating, loathsome men you can find. Big
fat drooling pigs, hairy apes, old toothless men, dirty sweating
stinking perverts. The most deformed and vicious sexual sadists and
pedophiles you can find. The dregs of hell." 
     Turabi just stared at her. The depth of her vindictiveness towards
these people seemed limitless. He pulled a sheet of paper from his
inside jacket pocket and placed it on the table before her. He took a
pen from his shirt pocket and placed it on top of the sheet.
     "All that you have said, we will do. You must fill out this
document for us. It lists the names of the people and the term of
incarceration. Your signature is also required. In Khalil, this will be
a legal document. As soon as we receive your payment we will arrange to
have them picked up and brought here. You will be informed as soon as
they arrive."
     Nola took another piece of paper from her shorts and placed it on
the table in front of Hassan.
     "I don't have the time to wait, Mr. Turabi. I've already taken the
liberty of having 15 million dollars placed in a numbered Swiss account.
Here is the number of the account and the password. All it will take is
a phone call from you to confirm that the money is there. You can have
it re-deposited in your own account in the same call."
     Turabi's eyebrows lifted in amazement. He snapped his fingers and
called for a telephone to be brought to the table. Almost immediately
they heard the scuffling sounds of their earlier waitress crawling
towards the table. She had a cordless telephone on the tray on her back.
She crawled up to the table, this time with her bare bottom facing
Turabi and her head facing Laura. Nola saw her whip streaked breasts
dangling below her. The poor girl lifted her face for a moment and
caught Nola's gaze, then quickly lowered it to stare at the floor. Nola
had seen tears in the girl's eyes. Were they tears from a recent
whipping, or tears of shame? As Hassan Turabi dialled Geneva, Nola took
the pen and began filling out the form. She could hear his pleased voice
as he confirmed the availability of funds and conducted the transfer to
his own personal account. Nola looked at the girl again, and took a deep
breath. She completed the form and signed it, replacing the pen on the
table.
     "Excellent!" Turabi beamed. The transfer has been completed and
confirmed. We will arrange to have our newest inmates picked up
immediately. He reached for the form. 
     Nola took a ragged breath and lowered her gaze to her hands, which
were folded on the table. Turabi took the form and read it. 
     Nola Neal, Tashia Neal and Curt Neal.
     Turabi motioned to one of his guards, who brought him over a small
seal. It was an embossing-type device, like a notary's seal. He picked
up the document, signed it himself, then used the device to imprint the
official seal of the Republic of Khalil.
     "What's done is done," he said slowly, "... and cannot be undone."                                NOLA5.TXT
                              "The Island"
                             "By Curt Strap"

                          Part 4 - The Capture

     She looked out the window for the third time. The car was still
there. She looked at it but saw only darkness. Nothing moved-no sounds
came. She kept her eyes on the car just the same. She barely breathed.
     Because someone was out there watching.
     She could feel them. She could almost see them, but not quite. 
     Someone.
     They had found her.     Nola quietly pushed open the door, half expecting to find Tashia
asleep. Instead, the girl was propped up with pillows, reading a mystery
magazine. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankles. Nola realized that
her daughter had nearly outgrown the pink pyjamas she was wearing. 
     "What's up?" Tashia asked.
     Nola shut the door. "I want you to get dressed."
     "Now?"
     "Right now" 
     The girl wrinkled her nose. "I don't get it."
     "We're going on another trip." 
     "We are?" Her delight only lasted an instant. Then she frowned.
"What do you mean? What kind of trip? Where are we going?"
     "Remember what I told you about the horrid men who want to take me
away and do awful things?"
     "Yeah?"
     "Well, I think they know where we are now. Hurry up and get
dressed. Jeans and a blouse are fine."
     Tashia's eyes widened. She pressed the open book to her belly, and
leaned forward. In a voice hushed and eager with conspiracy, she said.
"We're running away again?"
     "We're not running away. We're just going on a vacation." 
     "Don't worry, I won't tell." Jenny swung herself off the bed.
"Where are we going? How about Los Angeles?" She flung her pyjama shirt
aside as she headed for the closet. "Wouldn't you love to go to
Disneyland? We can go there, can't we?'
     "Sure," Nola said.
     "Which blouse you want?"
     "The plaid's fine."
     Tashia pulled the plaid blouse off its hanger. She slid her arms
inside as she hurried toward the dresser. The sight of her small,
pointed breasts reminded Nola that they'd planned to go shopping this
week for a training bra. Tashia's first. Now, that would have to wait. 
     Tashia was a tall skinny redhead, who would be really pretty a few
years later but right now she was at the cute stage, all arms and legs.
She was nearly as tall as her mother.
     It has been almost a year since Nola and Tashia left England,
travelling to the United States on forged passports. On her return from
the compound, she found that her ex-husband had already been taken. She
smiled grimly each time she thought of the ants on his balls, of the
rubber hoses and the whips, and of gross men doing foul sexual things to
his naked body. She had no intention of being taken that easily. She was
looking for much more, she wanted extremes, not just punishment.  
     She knew that it was not just the pain that she was running from.
Torture was not just a matter of hurting, of her own startled body
complaining at some invasion of the flesh. She knew she couldn't stand
what they would do to her but they would do in anyway. Pain can work
from the outside in. Pain in its cruellest, purest form. Without drugs
or sleep or even shock or coma to dull it for you. That's the kind of
pain she craved, the pain in the place that those who tried to escape
were imprisoned. Pain that he wouldn't show her on the tour. Extreme
pain.
     She fled.
     They had been on the move ever since. Every time she had thought
they were safe something happened. They were tenacious. At first she
thought that they would just keep the money and forget about her. But
now she knew now that they would never forget. They would keep after
them until they were caught. Then the fun would begin. Nothing would
ever be the same again. 
     Trembling at the thought of what she had arranged for herself and
her daughter, she sat on the corner of Tashia's bed. 
     "Are you sick or something?" Tashia asked. 
     "I'm okay."
     "You look like you're gonna die." 
     A chill crawled up Nola's back. She remembered what he said about
not dying, about living each day in hell. "Don't say that."
     Tashia kicked off her pyjama bottoms and stepped into her cotton
underpants. She fastened her jeans and sat on the bed to pull on her
socks. Nola put an arm around her. 
     "What happens when they catch us?"
     "They won't."
     "Want me to climb out the window? We can both climb out so no one
sees us leave."
     Tashia finished tying her sneakers and turned to Nola. "We're never
going to come back ever, are we?"
     Nola shook her head.
     Her lips began to tremble and tears filled her eyes. She looked at
Nola, blinking, as if waiting for an answer that would make everything
all right again. 
     Nola had no answer for her. "Come on," she said, and led the girl
to the window. Silently, she slid the window up. The screen remained,
its frame hooked into place at the bottom. She flicked open the hooks
and pushed. The tight frame didn't budge. 
     "You have to whack it," Tashia told her. 
     "If we make any noise..."
     "I'll do it." Tashia wiped the tears off her face. Then she went to
her bed for the book. Holding its upper edge against the frame, she
struck the bottom sharply with her palm. The screen popped out. "Now it
just slides out," she said. 
     "Can you do it?"
     "Sure."
     Nola held her by the hips while Tashia gripped the sides of the
screen and pulled. 
     "It's stuck."
     "For Gods sake, don't drop it!"
     "I..."
     It suddenly fell free. Tashia gasped. The screen crashed into the
bushes below the window and banged into the wall. "Oh, no," she
muttered. She turned to Nola shaking her head helplessly. "I'm sorry,
Mom. I didn't mean to, honest, it just slipped."
     "It's all right honey."
     "Maybe they didn't hear it."
     "Maybe not."
     Tashia leaned out the window.
     "Got you, Bitch?"
     A huge man, just outside, grabbed the front of her blouse and
jerked her roughly through the window. Nola reached for her feet. Too
late. The man flung the girl to the ground.
     "You bastard!" Nola cried.
     The man grinned at her. Then he turned away. Crouching over Tashia,
he grabbed her by the collar and belt.
     "Some guys and a lot of bugs are waiting for you, lady!"
     "Leave her alone!"
     "Try and stop me."
     He raised the struggling girl waist-high and dropped her.
     "No!" Nola shrieked. She threw a leg over the window sill and
started to climb out. The man grabbed her arm and pulled, wrenching the
arm, trying to drive her head into the ground, but her shoulder hit
first. He turned her onto her back, and sat on her and pinned her hands
to the ground. He bounced on her belly. 
     "Okay," he growled. He was out of breath and sweating. "Okay, we
got you now. You and the kid were running off again! You have caused a
certain organization some problems. They have a reputation to uphold.
Twenty years you owe them lady and they are going to get every minute of
it."
     "Look," she whispered. "I said I wasn't going. You got the money.
Let us go, please?"
     "No way, you knew the deal when you signed."
     As he jumped off Nola, she grabbed his foot. He kicked free and
rushed to Tashia. The girl was still facedown. He grabbed a handful of
hair and lifted it off her back while his other hand snatched a butane
lighter from his shirt pocket.
     "No! Nola yelled. 
     She crawled toward him.
     The man thumbed the lighter. A flame spurted high. 
     "Don't, take us to the island!"
     "Just sit there," the man ordered. 
     Nola lowered herself again to the sofa, where the man had shoved
her after dragging her inside the house. 
     He stood across the room, holding Tashia by the hair. Tashia, on
her knees, cried softly. "Don't move an inch," he warned her. Then he
let go of her hair and dialled the phone. When he finished dialling, he
gripped it again. 
     "Yes. This is Burt. I've got the situation under control here. Send
out some of the boys, would you?...No, nothing like that. I've got
matters well in hand." He grinned at his joke and wrenched Tashia's
hair. "That's 555 Peters Road...Yeah, both of them."
     He hung up and pulled Tashia to her feet. "Okay, go sit with your
mother."
     She sat beside Nola and leaned against her, still crying. Nola put
her arm around the girl.
     "You really did it. They're real pissed. You're gonna get it all
now, you know that?" Shaking his head he leaned back against the wall
and folded his arms. "You don't play around with them!"
     The doorbell rang.
     "Don't move," he warned. He went to the door and opened it. "Come
on in." 
     Looking over her shoulder, Nola saw a tall man enter. He looked
young to be in this racket. He fidgeted. And smiled crudely at Nola and
Tashia. 
     "I caught her trying to sneak out tonight with her kid."
     "We'll need some back up," the young man said. We can't let them
get away again or we'll end up serving their time. These chicks are
really in for it."
     The man stepped over to the telephone and dialled.
     Tashia leaned close to Nola's ear. "I've got to go," she whispered.

     "Can't you hold it?"
     "No."
     "Tashia had to use the bathroom."
     "Wait'll he's done."
     "Jackson," he said into the phone. "I need a transport team over at
555 Peters. Tell them to hurry." He hung up.
     "Now can I go?" Tashia asked.
     "You want to watch the bitch?" the older man said. "I'll take the
kid to the bathroom."
     "I don't want you to come?"
     "Tough shit. I'm not gonna have you sneaking out."
     "No! You'll watch! You're perverts. Mom told me!"
     His face turned purple. His fist clenched, but he stayed back. He
looked at the younger man. "I don't know what she's planning but she's a
clever kid."
     "You want me to take her?" the younger man asked. His face was red.

     "Help yourself. But watch out."
     He gestured to the girl. "Come on, then."
     She gave the other man a smug glance and hurried to the younger
man's side. 
     "There's a window," the other man warned. "Don't let her shut the
door."
     Jackson entered the bathroom, and went to the window on the far
wall. It was plenty big enough for the girl to climb out, but the screen
was firmly in place. He shut the window and latched it. 
     "All right," he said. 
     "Can I shut the door?" she asked
     "Okay. But I'll only give you half a minute. Then I'm coming in,
whether you're ready or not."
     What if I lock the door?" She grinned up at him. 
     "I'd have to break it down."
     "That'd be neat."
     "I'd rather not have to." 
     "Okay." She shut the door. 
     Jackson listened for the click of the lock, but it didn't come. He
raised his right arm. The second hand of his wristwatch moved slowly
past the numbers. After thirty seconds, he knocked. "Time's up." 
     "I'm almost done." 
     The toiled flushed. He heard water run for a moment. Then the door
opened. She smiled up at him. 
     Jackson thought to himself. There will be lots of guys watching her
piss when we get her to the island. And I'll be first in line. She's a
real cutie.
     "Come on, let's get going."
     "Can I tell you a secret?" She wiggled a finger and glanced
nervously down the hall-way. "I've gotta whisper."
     Jackson shrugged and crouched down. Her lips tickled his ear. "You
know what my step-father does to me?" she whispered. "Late at night he
comes sneaking into my bedroom, sometimes, and he..."
     The girl's hand moved swiftly. Jackson felt a strange hot line
across his throat. For an instant, he thought she'd scratched him with a
fingernail. Then blood sprayed her face. Jackson's blood. He shoved her
away. He tried to stand. Dizzy, he lurched toward the wall. The spray of
blood moved as he did and painted the wall. 
     He staggered back, reaching for his revolver, but his hand seemed
too clumsy to reach it under his jacket. Then he was staring at the
ceiling. Blood showered down, filling his eyes, and he didn't have the
strength to wipe it away. 
     Tashia slipped the injector blade into the pocket of her jeans and
dropped to her knees beside the man. She pulled his revolver out. 
     Standing, she looked down at the man. Blood still ran from his slit
throat, but it no longer gushed. 
     She felt sick.
     But he would have helped take her to that terrible place mom had
told her about. He had to be stopped. It was the right thing to do. The
right thing. 
     She suddenly doubled over and vomited, the spasms tearing at her
insides, her eyes filling with tears. 
     I've got to stop!
     I've got to...
     Another contraction hit, sending a stream through her mouth and
nose. Movement down the hall-way caught her eye. Blinking tears away,
she looked up. 
     The other man was running toward her. 
     With both hands, she raised the revolver. 
     "No!" He stopped. "Don't shoot! 
     The first bullet knocked a leg out from under him. Tashia watched
him flop. He lay on his belly raising himself with his arms. 
     "Please!"
     She took careful aim at his face and pulled the trigger five times
very quickly, staring through the white smoke as pieces of his head
exploded away and hit the walls. 
     With the roar of gunshots pounding through her head, Nola raised
her face off the carpet and looked toward the hall-way. 
     Tashia!
     Tashia's down there!
     She pushed herself to her hands and knees. Grabbing the edge of the
table she struggled to her feet. She straightened up. She wobbled a bit,
still dizzy from the blow to her temple. The man, hearing the commotion
in the hall, had slammed her with a beer bottle to keep her from
running. She stepped over the unbroken bottle and staggered toward the
hall-way. 
     A thin layer of smoke hung over the bodies, swirling in the air
current as Tashia rushed from one body to the other. Nola glanced down
at the body. His head...she quickly looked away and saw the tiny bright
blade in his outstretched hand.    
     "Come here," Tashia said. "But don't step in the blood."
     "Tashia?"
     "We've gotta get out of here," the girl said.  
     Nola watched, stunned, and confused. Tashia was covered with blood,
her hair matted with it, her shirt splattered. "Are...are you hurt?"
     The girl smirked. "They didn't touch me."
     "What are...?"
     "We've got to split. Come on-the back door." 
     Nola followed her daughter into the kitchen. At the sink, Tashia
turned on the water and rinsed her hands. 
     "Shouldn't we hurry?" Nola asked. 
     "I figure they won't get here in under five minutes so we've got a
couple left." She dried her hands on a paper towel. 
     The doorbell rang, knotting Nola's stomach with fear. Tashia rushed
to the kitchen door, opened it silently and pointed out. Nola stepped
onto the back porch. Tashia quietly pulled the door shut and looked
through the porch screen. The back yard was deserted. She followed her
daughter through the screen door and shut it gently.   
     Then they raced through the yard to the tool shed in the rear and
ran behind it. Tashia stopped and leaned back against the wall.
     "Where'll we go?" Nola asked. For a moment she thought how strange
it was to be relying on her eleven-year old daughter. But the girl
seemed to know what she was doing. She'd always had a lot of common
sense and nerve-too much nerve, Nola often thought. 
     "Let's go."
     "Where, Tashia?"
     "Do you want them to get us? My god, you know what they'll do to
us!"
     Tashia pushed away from the wall and hurried to the gate.
Unlatching it, she opened it an inch. She peered through the gap, opened
the gate wider, and stuck her head out. After looking both ways, she
glanced back at Nola. "The alley's clear," she whispered.   Nola
followed her through the gate. They rushed across the dark alley, and
ducked beside a telephone pole. They made their way cautiously down the
alley, staying close to the left side. They were nearly to the end of
the block when a car turned in. Tashia pulled Nola down, ducking behind
a pair of garbage cans. The car moved slowly toward them. 
     "Bet it's them," Tashia whispered. 
     "Do you think they saw us?"
     "They would've sped up. 
     Nola crouched lower as the car approached. The wheels crunched over
the gravel less that a yard away. She caught a whiff of cigar smoke. The
car kept moving. The sound of the wheels diminished with distance along
with the sweet odour of the cigar. 
     "Don't move until they're out of the alley," Tashia warned. "The
rear-view mirror." 
     When the sounds of the car were gone, Tashia stood. She leaned over
the top of the garbage can and peered down the alley. "It's okay," she
whispered. 
     They ran until they saw a dark house. The yard wasn't fenced but a
thick hedge of bushes shielded it from the alley. Near the garbage cans,
Tashia found a space through the bushes. 
     They entered the back yard. The rear window of the small, single-
story house was dark.
     Staying low, they rushed through the yard. Tashia crept up the
steps to the screened-in porch. She took the knife from her pocket, slit
the screen, and reached in to unlock the door. Then they entered the
porch. 
     Nola stood just inside the screen door holding it open, ready to
dash out if the door of the house should suddenly burst open. She held
her breath as Tashia tried the knob. 
     "Locked."
     The girl stepped back and looked along the wall of the house. "Ah-
ha," she said. She climbed onto an old couch against the wall, stood on
its back, and tired to force open a small, high window, It didn't budge.
Jumping to the floor, she glanced around. She stepped over to a table in
the corner. Two pool cue sticks lay across its top. She picked up one,
and returned to the couch. Standing on its cushion, she thumped the
cue's heavy end against the glass, as if taking aim, then drew back and
shot it forward, smashing a hole through the window. 
     Nola cringed at the sudden noise. Her eyes darted to the door.
     Tashia, standing on the couch, also watched the door. "She held the
cue stick overhead like a club, ready to bash anyone who might come out.
     The door stayed shut. 
     Tashia set the cue aside. Climbing onto the couch's back, she
reached through the broken window and unlocked it. She gently slid the
window up. 
     "I'll go through," she whispered, "and open the door for you."
     "Don't cut yourself, honey. Do you want a boost?"
     "Nah," Tashia said, and climbed headfirst through the window. In
moments, she was gone. 
     Nola waited in the dark porch. She looked at the open window, and
wished she had gone into the house instead of Tashia. She should have
been the one. It wasn't right, letting Tashia take such risks. After
all, this was all her doing. 
     What was taking her so long?
     Nola stepped toward the widow. It looked high and small. Tashia had
climbed through it easily, but it wouldn't be so simple for Nola.     
She decided to give her daughter another minute. Slowly, she began
counting to sixty. One, two, three, four..she heard footsteps
inside...five, six...the lock clicked and the door swung open. Tashia
smiled out at her. 
     "What took you so long?" Nola whispered.
     "I hurried as fast as I could." 
     "It's okay. I was just worried." She entered the kitchen, and shut
the door. 
     Nola saw a ring of keys on the table. She picked up the keys,
clutching them tightly to stop their jangling. Then she opened her hand,
and carefully studied them.
     "What're you doing?" Tashia asked. 
     "There are keys here for two cars."
     "Let's check the garage," Nola said. "If a car's there, we'll drive
right out of here and keep on going." 
     In the garage, they found a Dodge Dart. They went to its rear, and
Tashia reached for the handle of the garage door.
     "That won't work," Nola said. "It's on remote control."
     "Oh, no."
     "What's wrong with that?"
     "It'll make enough racket to wake the dead." 
     "We gotta try it. Time's running out." 
     The garage door rumbled up and Nola backed the Dodge down the
driveway.  
     "Better strap yourself in." Tashia strapped her seat belt into
place. "Do you need the headlights?" Tashia asked. 
     Nola killed them. The pavement ahead went dark but the street lamps
gave enough light to steer by. She drove slowly, staying on Main because
it ran parallel to the highway. At the end of town it stopped. She
turned left and stopped at the highway. 
     Far down the highway headlights appeared. Nola's stomach knotted.
She shifted to reverse and sped backwards, swinging the rear of the car
toward the curb. She hit the brake pedal. The car jerked to a stop and
she turned off the engine. 
     "Get down!"
     They both ducked low in their seats.
     From the roar of the engine, she doubted that the approaching
vehicle was a passenger car. It sounded more like a truck. She raised
her head enough to peek out. She was right; a trailer truck roared by. 
     "Quickly she started the engine and pulled onto the highway behind
it.
     "We're going the wrong way," Tashia protested.
     "We'll worry about that later," Nola said. "Let's stay with the
truck"
     She floored the gas pedal, trying to catch up, but the truck was
too fast. It kept pulling away. She followed it around a curve, leaving
the town behind. Without street lamps she could barely see the road. She
stayed in the middle of the highway. Soon, she found herself gaining on
the truck. If she got close enough, she could simply follow it, letting
its taillights show her the way. Its brake lights flashed on. It slowed
quickly. Nola moved up close behind it. 
     "Its gonna stop!" Tashia warned. 
     "My God, what...?"
     Steering across the centre lines, she saw lights ahead of the
truck. Headlights. Parked cars. She swung behind the truck. 
     "A road block," she muttered
     Tashia moaned.
     Nola stepped on the brake. As the car jerked to a stop she watched
the truck pull slowly away. 
     "What'll we do?" Tashia asked.
     She shook her head.
     "They'll have it blocked the other way, too."
     "I know, I know."
     "Oh God, they've seen us!"
     Stunned, Nola saw a van speed past the truck, Its headlights, on
high-beam, were blinding.
     "Oh, God!"
     "Turn around!"
     "It'll hit us!" she shrieked, but her foot stomped the gas pedal
and she jerked the steering wheel, swinging broadside to the onrushing
car. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the impact as the force of the
turn shoved her sideways. She straightened the wheel. Head-lights burst
in her rear-view mirror. She mashed the accelerator: the car shook and
bucked. She saw that her right tires were off the pavement. Then she
eased left, bringing them onto the road. 
     "He's still gaining!" Tashia yelled. She was twisted around looking
out the rear window. "He's right behind us."
     She sped through the centre of town, all its stores closed and
dark, its only traffic signal blinking yellow. She shot beneath the
light. !
     "Stop!" Tashia said. "Stop the car!"
     "What?"
     "We'll hit the other roadblock." 
     "But..."
     "Just stop."
     Nola took her foot off the gas. Slowly the car lost speed. The
trailing car stayed close behind.
     "We'll make them get out," Tashia said. "Whatever you do, don't get
out. Do just what I say. There's only two of them, I think."
     The van pulled alongside. She didn't recognize either of the two
men but their eyes...They smiled-a vicious, mocking smile.
     "Going some where, girls?"
     Nola reached forward awkwardly to turn off the engine.
     "Leave it going," Tashia whispered. 
     The van stopped in front of them and backed up until it bumped.
Both doors opened. They climbed out and started back towards the car. 
     "Okay," Tashia said. "Back up, real quick, and run over them."
     Nola turned to her daughter, shocked. "I can't do that."
     "God, Mom!"
     "I just...!"
     "They'll take us to the island like you said and do stuff..."
     "But I..."
     One man pulled open her door. "Out, Ms. Augustine!"
     "You too," the other man told Tashia.
     Nola climbed from the car. The man smirked at her, shaking his
head. "Dumb," he said and smashed a fist into her belly.
     She doubled. Her knees slammed against the road and she sprawled
forward, sucking for the air that would not come. 
     Tashia, still sitting in the car, watched her mom go down.
     "Come on," the man muttered, grabbing the shoulder of her blouse.
     "Let go!"
     He jerked her sideways. She fell forward. Before she could recover
the man gripped her arms. He dragged her from the car, gravel scraping
her back. Then she felt the soft wetness of grass. She squirmed, trying
to pull free. The man dropped onto her outstretched arms, his knees
crushing her arms, nailing them to the ground. After the first blast of
pain faded, she felt his hands on her breasts. 
     The hands rubbed and squeezed. He leaned forward, his hands sliding
down her chest and belly and tugged at her belt. He unzipped the waist
of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. His hands went inside her
underpants and probed.
     The other man joined them. "Come on! We've got a job to do."
     "Just getting a little feel," he said as he got off the girl.
Tashia rolled onto her side and drew her knees up.
     "Lot's of time for that later. Let's get them into the van."
     Kneeling, the two men rolled Tashia onto her belly. Steel handcuffs
secured her wrists and ankles. The man rubbed his hand hard over her
buttocks. "You and me are gonna have a lot of hard fun, girlie. That was
my brother you slaughtered back there."
     They picked her up by her bound arms and brought her back to the
van. Tashia saw her mother lying on the road, an arm outstretched. 
     Nola squirmed forward, trying to reach the safety of the trees,
dragging her useless legs, the cuffs on her ankles scraping along the
pavement. 
     The men laughed as they threw both captives into the van.  
     The van lurched sideways. Nola rolled, her back pressing against
Tashia. When it straightened, she rolled away. 
     She lay on her side, lengthwise on the floor of the van, her head
toward the rear doors. Her hands were cuffed behind her and were tied to
Tashia's handcuffs. They'd been rough. They'd jammed on the handcuffs
tightly almost cutting off Nola's circulation. 
     Nola flexed her hands. Her fingers were numb. She could barely bend
them. 
     "Please, please take the handcuffs," she cried. One man glanced
from the front of the van. "I'll give you whatever you want," she said.
"Money, do you want money? Anything. Just don't take us to the island." 
     "Honey, we'll get everything you and the kid got. When we get you
there!" he laughed, a horrible perverted laugh.
     Finally the van stopped.
     The rear doors opened. 
     Hands clutched Nola under the arms and dragged her. Then Nola was
outside the van, a man holding her up. He let go, and she stumbled
backward against Tashia. They both fell down. 
     She opened her eyes. The clearing was brilliant with floodlights.
The twin engine plane had its rear doors open. Nola and Tashia were
pulled to their feet. The other man unlocked the cuff on Nola's left
hand. Then he fastened the cuff again, securing Nola and Tashia back to
back. Without a word, both men carried them to the plane.
     "Well, girls," one mouthed. "Guess you're gonna get it now!"
     The two men got into the front of the plane. Nola and Tashia were
alone in the back. Nola shut her eyes. She heard the engine start.                                NOLA5.TXT

                              "The Island"
                             "By Curt Strap"

                      Part 5 - Nola's First Ordeal

     Nola felt an uncontrollable shiver run through her as he fixed his
gaze upon her. It was different, somehow. Gone was the accommodating
salesman. In its place was a severity that made her catch her breath.
     "Stand up, MIZZ Augustine or is it MIZZ Augustine." He emphasized
the MIZZ with a sneer. Nola hesitated a moment and looked around. There
were two burly guards standing nearby. She was alone. Nobody knew where
she was. In accordance with Hassan's instructions Nola and Tashia had
been flown to the city of Monrovia, in Liberia. A car met them at the
private airport and took them on a two hour drive to a deserted fishing
port. From there the boat took them to the island.
     She slowly rose to her feet. So this was it. The beginning. She
felt goose-bumps on her upper arms.
     "Remove all of your clothes, Bitch." She was expecting this but she
still trembled as her hands reached for the buttons on her safari shirt.
     While Nola was stripping, Turabi picked up the sheet of paper she
had provided that contained the list of names. 
     "My my, such a long list!" he chuckled. As he folded the paper back
up he looked at Nola. "But I'm sure we can accommodate you." He watched
her removing her shirt. "As a matter of fact, with a little research I'm
sure we can even expand on this list quite a bit!"
     He laughed again as he put the paper in his jacket pocket for safe
keeping. By this time Nola had her safari shirt off and lying on the
back of her chair. He stared intently as she reached behind her and
unclasped her bra. It fell onto her arms, revealing a very nice set of
tits, firm, with large nipples. She glanced up only slightly before
unbuttoning her hiking shorts. After unzipping them she began tugging
them down over her hips. It took a bit of effort due to their tightness,
but soon she had them down past her knees where they dropped to the
ground. In her excited state she had forgotten to remove her hiking
boots first and she tried in vain to get the shorts off over them. With
her shorts around her ankles she had to bend over and begin unlacing her
boots. She could feel her thin white panties stretched tightly across
her ass. She wondered if anyone were looking at it as she removed her
boots one at a time, then pulled off her white athletic socks.
     She stood upright and stepped out of the left leg of her shorts.
She lifted her right ankle and used her left hand to remove the shorts
from it. She didn't know why she did it but she bunched up the shorts
and tossed them on the table in front of Hassan. His face seemed both
angry and amused at the same time, if that were possible.
  Nola was left standing wearing only a brief pair of white panties.
They were high cut at the leg and had a little flower pattern on the
front. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband and paused a moment, as if
readying herself mentally.
     "If you ever hesitate again to obey a command you will be punished
beyond anything you could ever imagine." Turabi warned in a low, deadly
voice. "Now remove the panties."
     Nola's hands trembled slightly as she tugged the flimsy white
material over her hips. As with the shorts she lifted her ankle and
removed the panties. This time, however, she merely placed them on the
chair. She'd seen that look on Hassan's face and decided it might not be
wise to toss them at him as she had done with the shorts.
     She stood there completely naked, for the first time, on the Island
at Khalil. She didn't know what to do with her hands so she clasped them
together in front of her, covering her pussy.
     "Put your hands at your sides." Turabi commanded. She obeyed.
     Turabi pointed to the thin covering of reddish-blonde pubic hair.
     "You will remove that hair. It will be your responsibility every
morning to make sure you are completely shaved and smooth down there. If
I ever find any stubble, you will be forced to grow it long again. You
don't want that to happen, because when it reaches the appropriate
length you will be hung upside down by it and shaken until every last
follicle has been pulled out. Do you understand?"
     "Yes." she said weakly.
     "You will address me as `Master'. You will address any male guard
as `Sir", and you will address any female guard as `Mistress'. Do you
understand?"
     "Yes, Master."
     Turabi stood up and came around the table till he was directly in
front of her. "Very nice" he murmured. "Turn around slowly." Nola
obeyed, slowly turning to display her lean legs and tight, white ass. It
was firmly muscled and flawless. The thought came to her that right now
she might have the only unblemished ass of any inmate in the Island .
Turabi would take care of that detail very shortly.
     She completed her slow turn and stopped. She held Hassan's gaze for
a moment, then let it drop. Her impudence amused him.
     "So, you think this is just another adventure, do you? I assure you
it is real. You can't fulfil your need for self-debasement to your
satisfaction and then walk away when you are satisfied. For that you
could have hired any one of a thousand Masters or Mistresses in London.
No, this is Khalil, and you are MINE for ten years! You will scream, you
will cry, but above all you will beg! You will be my masterpiece! You
will be the one that the other prisoners look upon with pity. You have a
proud, defiant attitude right now, but like many others you will soon be
changed. YOU will be the one I show to prospective customers. You will
hear their laughter or their pity as you are displayed in your shame and
your agony. You will be the one I think about at night before I go to
bed and the one I think about each morning when I first awake."
     Nola began to tremble. She was visibly shaken by his words. "Yes!
Tremble!" he laughed cruelly. "You have a lot to be fearful of!"
     He hooked his thumbs in his belt under his jacket and smiled at the
trembling nude woman. Then his face turned hard once again.
     "Get down on the ground, flat on your belly."
     Without hesitating, Nola dropped to the ground. She stretched out
on the wooden floor of the veranda. The wood felt oddly cool and there
was a little sand on it. It tickled her slightly and for some odd reason
she felt wet between her legs.
     You will crawl just like that, down the steps, and across the
island to the main building. You will enter it and ask for Sir Olaf.
He's a big, fat pig quite a bit older than you are. You will kiss his
feet and beg him to 'whip your impudent ass till you are crying
uncontrollably.' You will use those exact words. If you allow your
nipples to leave the ground for any reason during your crawl, or if you
fail in the slightest way to carry out my orders you will be placed in a
set of stocks and bullwhipped. Do you understand?"
     "Y-yes, Master!" Nola's voice was shaking, but she immediately
turned and headed down the stairs, head first. It was a chore to keep
her nipples touching the steps at all times but she was
petrified of disobeying. Her legs parted as she slid down the steps,
exposing a rear view of her pussy to her audience. When she reached the
bottom step she set off crawling across the dusty ground towards the
main building. She used her arms to pull herself along, raising her body
as little as possible from the ground. The tingling of her nipples and
pussy as they were both dragged along the ground began to get her very
aroused, in spite of her fear. The degradation of what she was doing to
herself seemed almost an erotic stimulant. Her crotch got wetter and
wetter as she crawled, feeling the cool air on her backside.
     Hassan Turabi walked behind her, taunting her as she crawled:  
"This is the way you will get wherever you are going, from now on! If
you're good I may allow you up on all fours like a dog! After Olaf gets
through with you, he will clip a leash around your neck and lead you on
all fours to your bunk in the main dormitory. He will supervise you as
you clean yourself and then shave your pussy. He will be in charge of
you and will administer punishment whenever he sees fit, so beware, he
has a very cruel streak!"
     Nola's vision was blurred by the tears welling in her eyes. Tears,
just like she had seen on the poor unfortunate girl who brought the
telephone. In spite of her tears, her pussy was still on fire with lust!
     "You'll be fed from a bowl on the floor and put to bed for a good
night's rest. This afternoon we will begin making another clearing in
the jungle for you near Ingrid! If you listen you can hear her moaning
right now... Don't worry, there'll be plenty of ants left for you
tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that! I think I'll
keep you there for the first couple of months at least. Olaf and his
friends will enjoy honeying you up! When I finally tire of that I've got
a few other ideas in mind for you! 
     The thought of herself sharing Ingrid's torment made Nola shiver
from head to toe and sob as she crawled. Still, she was so damned
horny! She'd have to find a way to masturbate herself tonight. She was
sure she'd be able to find a way. She was pretty sure...

(To be Continued in Nola5A.txtA Comment from the Author:

     The comments and suggestions posted by readers are what keep the
authors going. The same is true for me. I've got a general direction I
want to go with NOLA series from here, but that's all. The door's wide
open for specific scenes and characters. I'd love for all you "Anons"
out there to contribute your suggestions. If nobody does, the NOLA
series will probably go on anyway but the more suggestions I get the
better the product, I hope.
     One last thing. I'm not much on gross (eating/drinking
shit/piss/puke), nor do I enjoy maiming my characters (major burns or
scars, broken bones, ripped or chopped off body parts, severe internal
injuries, death, etc.) It's purely a matter of personal taste, so those
of you who DO enjoy it by all means keep on writing it. Other than that
I like all kinds of punishment and humiliation, particularly involving
the pre-pube set, and I'm REAL flexible. If you'll send your ideas in I
promise I'll do my best to work them into the story.

Please post any comments to French Connection BBS (914-278-6266) or
Leather Rose BBS (312-665-0111). They are the two that I visit
regularly.

And a Question:

     Does anyone out there still like whips?  Or for that matter canes,
straps, paddles, tawses, martinets, cat-o'-nines, riding crops, or even
an occasional good old fashioned bundle of birch switches? I haven't
seen a good flagellation story in ages. What ever happened to naughty
young schoolgirls getting their asses caned by lecherous old
headmasters? I'm not talking about spanking people. That's its own
little club, and they mostly frown on us hard core B&D and S&M freaks.
I'm talking about the whip 'em till they bleed world. Are any of us
"flag" freaks still out there?  Comments please.

Curt Strap
January, 1994