Chapter 3
Harry Blackstone found his giant, German wife lying on the bed, crying. She had taken off her leather outfit and was naked.
Harry had taken the time to take the silent, hanging redhead down from the beam and cared for her wounded tit. Then he had taken the girl back to the cell in the basement where he kept all of his experimental subjects until he was sure that they had been cured.
When he had made sure that Nancy was as comfortable as she would ever be, Harry ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. There he found Eva. He sat down on the bed to console his weeping wife.
"It is all right," the man with the patch said, rubbing his wife's back as she heaved her body with sobs. "It is all right, Eva. She is a difficult case. We will have to work with her for several sessions."
The German woman turned her face toward her husband.
"I had blood in my mouth," she sobbed.
"I know," Harry said, trying to soothe his wife. "You will get used to that, Eva."
"My god!" the woman shouted. "I have failed as a psychologist! I am no help to you at all!"
"No," Harry said, lying down next to his wife and pulling her to him so that he could speak to her with a whisper, as if they were making love. "You will be of great help to me, Eva. You have a difficult case there with Nancy. You will have to work with her a lot, and I will have to help you."
The German wife did not protest. She knew that Harry was probably correct, but she wondered if she would ever be able to be of any real help to him. That blood in her mouth had nauseated her, had sickened her, had made her want to throw up.
She looked at Harry through her tears and saw her handsome husband smile at her.
"You can help me tonight," he said. "I have another subject coming in tonight, and she will not be all that difficult. She is just a nineteen-year-old dope addict and hooker."
"Nineteen?" the woman asked.
"Well, she says that she is nineteen. But the people at the jail don't believe her. They think that she is probably sixteen at the most. But you know how hookers are. You can't believe them."
Eva closed her eyes and thought about that, a teen-aged dope addict and hooker. She had not heard about that case before. Her husband had not given her any details on this girl.
Harry seemed to read her mind as he lay there next to her and held her.
He explained the situation to Eva:
"Her name is Jill and she has been arrested several times for selling her little body to men. But she seems to show no remorse at all. She laughs at cops and judges and jail personnel when they try to tell her that she is going right down the road to ruin. She laughs at them, but she does not life when she is thrown into a cell where she can't get her regular fix. Then she cries, and she gots through cold turkey and shakes the habit. When they let her go, she swears that she is going to lay off the heroin, but they usually arrest her again in a month of so and she is peddling her ass and she has fresh needle marks in her arms. And she laughs at them again."
"How can I help?" Eva asked.
"Her profile, the one that I got just this afternoon when the people at the jail saw her in her cell again and thought that I might be able to help her, says that she is the daughter of a whore. And she seems to have a mother fixation. She claims that her mother never cared about her at all. She says that her mother just let her grow up on the street while she was fucking Johns all over town."
"So I will play the part of her mother," Eva guessed.
"Yes," the husband said. "This one should be easy. According to my suspicions, she needs to have a mother to treat her harshly so that she can believe that her mother cares for her, cares enough to give her punishment. You can be that mother, Eva."
Eva tried to imagine what it would be like, treating this teen-aged girl like a piece of shit, torturing her as a mother should. The big, German woman was still lying on her stomach, but she felt her pussy quake and her juices began to flow as she considered all of the possibilities.
That night, both Eva and Harry were sitting the office when the guards from the jail brought the girl into their place of torture and cure.
Eva looked the girl over carefully as Harry talked to her, explaining the methods that he would like to use on this young thing in order to help her.
But the girl did not seem to care about what Harry was saying to her. She just laughed and laughed. She giggled like a little girl who had gotten into the family liquor cabinet and had taken a little too much whiskey. But Eve knew that she was more troubled than that. She knew that Jill's giggles were caused by drugs, by heroin. Eva had worked with drug addicts before, and they often giggled like that and threw themselves around in a chair as if they were on fire when they were high. And this young thing was still high. She had been in jail for nearly a day and she was still high. Eva knew that she must have taken a large dose of heroin before she was arrested.
Jill giggled until Harry mentioned her mother.
And then the young thing-Eva knew that the people at the jail were right; this girl was certainly not nineteen years old- sat stiffly in the chair and her eyes burned with hatred.
"Don't talk about that fucking bitch!" the young girl yelled. "She never gave a shit about me!"
"Well, we give a shit about you," Harry said. "My wife and I care a great deal about you, Jill."
When Harry mentioned his wife, he pointed at Eva, who sat on the sofa on the other side of the room. The teen-aged girl turned and looked at the giant, sexy woman. She inspected Eva as if she were a customer in a store and was considering buying Eva for cash.
Then Jill looked at Harry again.
"She doesn't give a shit about me," she snarled, pointing at Eva. "I can tell. She is just like my fucking whore mother. All she wants to do is fuck men, any kind of man, and drink her gin and fall asleep. She takes money for fucking men and she does not give a shit about me. She does not try to help me grow up. She just sends me out on the streets and tells me to get lost when she has one of her fucking men over."
"No," Eva said softly, "I would not do that to you, Jill. I care about you. I would like to help you grow up and be a good girl."
"Too late now," the girl snarled at Eva. "You had your fucking chance and you blew it, you worthless bitch."
In her drug-soaked brain, Eva had become her mother. The big, German woman looked at her husband and smiled. She knew what Harry was thinking, that this confusion in the girl's mind would help them, that this confusion of Eva with her mother would make the punishment that Jill got from Eva even more meaningful, even better for her.
Eva studied the girl some more. Jill was very sexy, although she already looked hard, as if she had lived a lot during her few. years on earth, as if she had experienced a lot of the vague pain that most of their experimental subjects had felt.
But the girl tried to look young. She probably knew that that would make her more money when she worked as a whore. She wore her hair up in pigtails. But the hardness in her eyes would not allow her to be a young girl, a fresh and innocent thing. The hardness in her eyes told Eva exactly what this girl was, a troubled hooker, a whore before her time.
The German woman's heart went out to the young thing. She wanted to help the girl. She wanted to hurt her and help her to regain her youth.
Jill started giggling again. She giggled as she signed the paper giving Harry permission to beat the shit out of her. She ran her eyes over that paper. The girl was not completely senseless. She knew what she was agreeing to.
"Nothing special," she said. "Guys have knocked me around a lot in my life."
And then she giggled again.
But Jill did not know that this, indeed, would be something special. No guy was going to knock her around and hurt her on this night. She was going to be tortured by a woman, a woman that she had already confused with her mother, a woman who would give her what she had wanted since she was a little girl.
Harry led Jill down the hallway to the laboratory. He would prepare her for the experiment. Eva went into her bedroom to change into another costume, another special thing that Harry had ordered for her.
Eva put the leather garters around her bare arms, and she wore similar leather things on her wrists. She looked at that leather after she had put it on her body. She noticed the little ridges, the studs in the leather that made the giant, German woman look even tougher and more domineering. Then she slipped on the brief leather panties and played for a moment with the metal clasp that was in front of the panties covering her pussy. The metal was cold on her cunt, and Eva did not want that. So she pulled the metal clasp off and let her pussy go bare.
The woman studied herself in the bedroom mirror and smiled. She looked like a good mother, she thought, and, for the first time in her life, she regretted that she and Harry had decided to devote their lives to their careers, had decided not to have children.
Then Eva went into the laboratory and looked at the special set-up that Harry had prepared for this experiment. He was a good psychologist. Although his theories remained constant, he changed his methods and his equipment with every patient, in order to fit the girl that he was trying to help. He gave a lot of thought to these individual changes, and Eva felt very proud of him when she saw how much trouble Harry went to for his patients.
Jill was tied to a wooden pole that had a another piece of wood jutting from the top of it. A metal clasp was around one of her wrists and ropes were twisted around her arms. Her arms were twisted up and she was held tightly against the pole. The soft hair under her arms matched the color of the hair over her little pussy. She was naked, of course.
And she was still giggling with drugged mindlessness.
But she stopped giggling when she saw Eva, standing there in her leather panties and her leather bracelets. Harry was standing next to his wife at the door. He handed Eva the pliers that he expected her to use on Jill. They had talked about the special punishment that this girl deserved, that this girl needed.
Jill studied the giant, sexy woman who approached her with the terrible instruments in her hands. She opened her mouth and sighed one word, a word that meant that the healing had already begun.
"Mother," the girl said.
And she did not say it with hate. She did not say it with brutal hissing. Eva sensed the love in her voice as she called the professional psychologist mother. Eva seemed to read the teen-ager's mind. Jill could not admit that she loved her mother because her mother was finally going to give her the treatment that she deserved. Her mother was going to show her that she cared deeply about the girl.
Eva moved toward the girl with the pliers held up in front of her face. She wanted Jill to see those pliers. She wanted the girl to see what kind of treatment she was going to get from her loving mother. As she walked toward the girl, she spoke to her with cruel words. But her voice was not cruel. Her voice was not harsh. Her voice was not angry. She used a loving tone, the kind of tone that a mother would use when she had to disciple a child in order to protect that child from things that were bad in the world, things that would destroy the child slowly if the child did not learn what was good for her. "I love you, my daughter," Eva said, "but I must hurt you. I must torture you because you are the only thing that I have. You must understand, daughter, that this torture is good for you, that it will show you that you should not be a no-good whore as I am, that you must be a good girl, the kind of girl that any mother would want. I am a whore, but you will not be one, even if I have to kill you to keep from being a mother of a little prostitute. Do you understand?"
Jill's eyes actually filled with tears as she listened to the woman in leather, the cruel but kind woman speaking to her..
"Mother," she sobbed with joy, "I understand. I understand it all."
Eva walked to Jill and reached out and touched the teen-ager's firm, ripe tits. She massaged them lovingly.
The professional psychologist was anxious to get this ordeal started. She thought that she would prove herself to her husband with this punishment that she planned for the girl. She would prove that she was worthwhile as a researcher, as a psychologist, as a mother of a teen-aged whore. She kept thinking of the way that she had run out of the laboratory the day before, when she had tasted Nancy's blood in her mouth. She was still ashamed that she had done that. She wanted to repay her husband for the way that she had failed him that morning.
"I love you, my daughter," she said softly as she rubbed the tits.
Jill's eyes closed and she tilted her young face back and moaned.
"I understand, Mother," she said softly. "Torture me. Show me that you care."
And then Eva started to squeeze the little tits tightly in her hands. The girl winched with the pain that her mother was giving to her in order to protect her. She understood that this was good for her. She understood that this was what she needed. She accepted the pain from her mother's hands.
And Eva's motherly voice changed as she began to curse and hiss at the teen-aged hooker.
"You fucking little whore," she said. "You worthless little shit. I am a whore but that is no reason why you should be a whore. You will be a good girl if I have to beat the badness out of you, you piece of crap, you hot-pussied bitch, you cock-sucking, little twat."
"Yes, Mother," Jill moaned in pain. "I love you. You are correct."
Eva took her hands away from the girl's tits and the teen-ager sighed with relief. Then Eva picked up the pliers that she had dropped on the floor before she had started to give the girl the pain that she needed. She put those pliers on the hair under the girl's arms. She glanced at Harry, her intelligent husband, and waited for him to nod to her. When he did, she smiled. She was doing this for Harry, the German woman reminded herself. She was doing this to prove his theories about pain and punishment and the healing that it could bring to girls who had known pain all of their lives. Then she started to yank at the hair under the girl's arms.
The teen-ager screamed and tensed her body, but Eva knew that this girl sensed that the pain was good for her.
Jill screamed and cried but she also spoke to the woman that she had confused with her mother.
'Thank you," she gasped from time to time as the woman pulled the hair under her arm out of her sensitive pores, giving her just the kind of treatment that the little, teen-aged hooker deserved and desired.
As the pain increased in the girl's head, she finally shouted out the words that Eva and Harry both longed to hear, the words that showed that the pain was helping her, that she was learning something from this ordeal that would make her a better woman when she grew up, that would allow her to grow up and not wind up lying dead in some alley by the time she was twenty.
"Mother!" Jill cried. "I understand! I love you! You love me! I will be a good girl now! I promise!"
Harry watched with admiration and grinned at his wife when Jill made that promise. Of course, he knew that Jill was not completely cure, that there would have to be a few more sessions with her mother figure in order to make sure that the pain had sank deep into her brain, deep enough to make a real difference in the girl's life.
But Harry and Eva were well on their way to another success and they both knew it.
And Harry knew that their experiences with Jill would prove once more that his theories, the ones that they had laughed at the institute, were good and true and valuable in the treatment of feminine offenders.