Chapter 7: MA makes a break
Her captors didn’t confide in her, of course, but after a few days Ms. Americana
had two things figured out: Flag Girl had escaped — or was dead. And Betty had
been taken off the job.
“Where’s Nurse Dyke?” MA asked one morning, when Bohner arrived to take her down
to the recreation room for another session in sexual degradation.
“We’ve given her another assignment,” Bohner replied. “I’m afraid she had gotten
too emotionally involved with you. I can assure you I don’t have that problem.”
He grabbed MA’s arm and pushed her toward the doorway.
“Another assignment? Does it involve Flag Girl? Betty hates her.”
“No,” said Bohner, “it doesn’t involve your little pal. She’s safe and sound.”
MA could tell he was lying.
Perhaps because she had forced him to lie, Bohner was particularly nasty that
day. He shoved the wand deep into her ass and turned the power to level nine.
This was way beyond the pleasure zone. She screamed in agony. Then, for the
first time since she had been taken captive, he fucked her himself. He did it
slowly, in her pussy and from behind, while she was chained to the wall. The
whole time he whispered hateful messages in her ear.
After he came, he said, “By God, I wish I could afford to kill you. I haven’t
performed surgery since my residency, but I’d slice you open and take out every
organ and line them up on a table. I’d turn you into a fucking anatomy lesson.”
Later, she was taken out on the veranda, to join Moulton and Tasher for lunch.
She was so weak from the session with Bohner that her knees buckled and she
landed face-first at Moulton’s feet.
“My dear, what’s the matter?” the old man said. “Here, let me help you up.”
MA ate little and said nothing during lunch. Afterward, when Ludwig had escorted
MA from the table, Moulton said to Bohner, “I think you’re overdoing things. Ms.
A is a beaten, defeated shell of her former self. There’s really nothing more to
be gained by these sessions. I think it’s time to put her on the market.”
# # #
Ludwig had been instructed to handle MA with great care. No rough stuff. No
rape. Not even consensual sex, in the unlikely event she asked for it.
Ordinarily, he followed orders with Prussian exactitude. But today he was very
horny, and his charge’s vulnerability made her especially attractive to him. On
the way back to her room, he pulled her aside and into Moulton’s study.
“How about a quickie?” he asked.
MA looked at him blankly.
“Come on, honey. If you don’t want to take off that sexy costume, just make a
blow job.” He spoke in the cajoling tones of a man on a date, not someone
guarding a defenseless captive.
“A blow job?” MA said. “Okay.” She knelt in front of him.
“Nice and slow,” he instructed, unzipping his pants and pulling out his prick.
She caressed the head of his prick with her tongue. Then she slid her mouth down
his shaft. He moaned softly and rocked back and forth on his feet.
What happened next came too fast for him to prevent it. MA pulled her head back
from his crotch and drove her fist into his scrotum. He gasped, clutched his
balls and fell to the floor. A quick karate chop to his throat finished the job.
He was out cold.
“How can a ‘quickie’ be ‘nice and slow,’ asshole?” she said in a low voice. She
gave him a parting kick in the stomach, then went to the French windows. The
study overlooked the Garden. She tried the handle on one of the windows. It was
unlocked.
Where to next? She had tried the woods the last time she was free, and that
hadn’t worked. A long, meandering driveway led to the front gate, but she knew
the gate was guarded.
She’d try the Garden. Those strange structures might provide some good hiding
places.
# # #
Moulton, normally the most cheerful of men, was in a sour mood. To lose one
superheroine, because of a blunder by a colleague’s underling, was merely
unfortunate. To lose a second, because of someone he had hired and trusted, was
an outrage.
The only reason Betty and Ludwig weren’t chopped up and dumped into the marine
tank was that ichthyologists who ran his aquarium told Moulton that so much red
meat would be bad for the sharks. Moreover, Bohner argued that the Clinic always
needed organs. So Betty and Ludwig were dispatched with fatal injuries
consistent with a high-speed traffic accident, and their innards were dispersed
among those who could put them to better use.
But while getting rid of these two incompetents brought Moulton a certain
satisfaction, it didn’t bring back the two beauties who had brought him so much
pleasure, and who had the potential to bring him so much money.
To make matters worse, that evening Taggart and the men who worked under him
rebelled at his order that they search every square inch of the estate —
including every bush and building in the Garden.
“With all due respect Mr. M,” said Taggart, “you can’t expect these boys to risk
their lives uprooting all the freaks in the Garden — leastways, not unless they
are authorized to shoot in their own defense.”
“No shooting,” shouted Moulton. “There will be no shooting. It cost a bloody
fortune to create what you call ‘freaks,’ and I’ll not have them shot like so
many possums and coons.”
“They’re bigger and more dangerous than possums and coons,” said Taggart’s
sidekick, Lee. “You know that. You know what they’ve done to some of the girls
you’ve sent into the Garden.”
Moulton couldn’t dispute that point. Some of his parties had gotten rather out
of hand, and there had been a few “incidents,” as he called them. But it had all
been worth it, to turn Bosch’s vision into a reality. What were the few lives of
a few hookers compared with the opportunity to create great art?
“I’ll go myself in the morning, you bloody cowards,” Moulton said. “And I’ll go
unarmed. They won’t hurt me. Without me, they wouldn’t exist, and I think they
know that.”
Bohner, who had been silently listening to this conversation from a corner of
the study, cleared his throat.
“Let’s all calm down and think this through, Mr. M,” he said. “We’ve already
lost two very valuable commodities. But losing you would be a disaster — for the
clinic, for all charities you support, for all of Delta-City.”
“Do you think I can be dissuaded with a little flattery, Richard?” said Moulton.
“You are wrong. I will go into the Garden, and I will return with our two
missing captives — or with their remains.”
