Chapter 1

William Corcoran was in the midst of the strangest evening of his life. In the doctors lounge at the hospital he had heard of one of the wildest nightclubs with one of the most incredible live shows imaginable. According to the tale he heard, the floor show — if it could be called that — consisted of amateur talent — all girls — who allowed themselves to be tortured and violated. When he heard the story from a rather disreputable doctor, Hank Jones, it was immediately apparent why the talent was amateur: No professional would do what these amateurs did nor could they long survive if they did.

It seemed that young women volunteered to perform sex acts of all kinds with the patrons and submit to the most incredible tortures. According to Jones, when you entered the club, the first thing one saw was the girl secured in a steel frame. Beside her was a large chart containing a list of actions she would perform or submit to, along with prices for each one. The club only operated on weekends and its biggest night was Friday. Jones claimed that this permitted the girl to recover somewhat before Monday.

What caused the animated talk in the lounge that day was that the word had gone out that the girl performing this evening — it was a Friday in early May — would do absolutely anything.

Bill had overheard Jones conversing with a debauched buddy of his. Due to a peculiarity of his memory, Bill had also remembered both the location of the club and the password required to be admitted.

At six feet three, 210 pounds, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, Bill was very attractive to women. But at the same time, for reasons lost in the recesses of his memory, he didn't think that he was attractive at all. As a result, he would inevitably misread or totally miss the looks of female interest directed at him that followed him everywhere. The looks were so pervasive Bill had long ago decided it was just in the nature of things: It was just the way women looked at men It never registered that the looks he received were very different from the looks the same women accorded most other men, and because he was almost 31 years old and had been receiving such looks for more than half his lifetime, he just ignored them.

Another factor was his education. Bill had graduated from Yale with double majors in classics and history. Coupled with the science courses essential for medical school, he had spent his career at Yale studying. Beyond that, he was an excellent athlete, lettering in three sports: football, swimming and track. After being designated a Rhodes scholar, he spent his time at Oxford completing his doctorate in economics. After completing medical school at Johns Hopkins, he did his postgraduate work at New York Presbyterian Hospital and had just completed his postdoctoral training in emergency medicine.

Perhaps it was the fact that his residency was at an end and he was at a loss for what to do now that his interest was aroused by the prospect of seeing the spectacle at the nightclub. Moreover, there was another fact about Bill: He was fabulously wealthy. His parents had been killed in a plane crash during his senior year at Yale. He had inherited a substantial sum from them, been paid the proceeds of very large insurance policies, and collected massively from the airline's insurance company.

He had invested the money brilliantly. The result was that he had increased his net worth from millions of dollars to billions in the intervening ten years. The cause of his parents' death was the primary reason he had gravitated to medicine, and ultimately to emergency medicine. His parents' last moments of life had been on his mind. Furthermore, for Bill investing money to make more money was very easy ... and very boring. The result was his practice of medicine.

Deciding that he didn't want to take one of his own cars to the nightclub — he thought they were both too ostentatious and too theft-prone — he called his attorney who contacted a corporation that Corcoran controlled — although the company didn't know it. As far as it was concerned, the control was vested in the attorney himself. That company, in turn, controlled a major car-rental firm.

The result was that a new but nondescript sedan was waiting for him outside his apartment. It was a vehicle in a special fleet the rental company maintained for law-enforcement agencies. Although its registration appeared ordinary, anyone trying to run the car through the DMV computer would draw a blank. The computer would report that the car was registered and not stolen, but no other information could be released on it. It would have taken a court order to penetrate the registration so Bill wasn't concerned about either being recognized or traced as a result of his visit to the club.

It was located in New York City far over in the West 20's near 9^th Avenue in what had obviously originally been a warehouse or a factory. The neighborhood was so rundown that if it was upgraded by a factor of two it would have still been a mostly-deserted slum. But its obscure location was a significant element in its ability to stay in business although Bill had no idea how long that had been.

He found a place to park close to what he concluded was the rear entrance to the club, then walked around to the front. He gave the password to the man at the door and peeled off $100 to pay the cover charge. While normally he would never carry as much as $100 in cash, tonight he was loaded. He had no intention of charging anything; he was going to be as anonymous as possible.

It was almost 11:30 when he went in. The show had been on for about an hour already, he guessed. The club was dark except for lighting on the stage that was in the center of the large area. He guessed the room was about 200 feet square. There were dozens of small tables circling the stage that were just large enough to hold drinks and ashtrays. Only enough room remained for the topless waitresses to move around to serve drinks.

Smiling at his waitress, he ordered a Sam Adams. As he did, he noticed what appeared to be scars across her body. When he raised an eyebrow, she assured him that they were just makeup. "Unfortunately," she added, "that won't be the case with that girl over there," as she motioned toward the featured attraction.

The girl was being held in position by a heavy steel frame. Both her wrists were secured by heavy leather cuffs and the cuffs in turn were secured to slides on the side rails on the arch-shaped framework. On it were holes which enabled the cuffs to be moved up and down and secured at six-inch intervals ranging from floor level to about seven feet up. By moving the slide detents up and down, she could be made to lie on the floor, to be spreadeagled, or to be secured in virtually any intermediate position.

Standing on an easel placed beside the girl was a "menu." It gave the prices of a whole range of tortures and sexual acts she was willing to perform or have performed on her. A single stroke with a bullwhip was $50. Fucking was $250, cocksucking was $200, and so it went.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, Bill looked at the girl in amazement. She was incredibly beautiful! Although she was hooded, he could see her eyes through the eye holes which, along with a slit to permit her to suck cock or eat pussy, were the only openings in the black hood that completely covered her head. It was buckled around her neck and concealed her face and hair. Except for the hood, though, she was totally naked. As he watched, two drunken women were pulling out her pubic hair, paying a dollar a hair for the privilege.

As he watched, it appeared that the victim was taking deep breaths to recover from the tortures she had already suffered. Having her pubic hair pulled out appeared to be child's play compared to what she had been through already. And from looking at her, that had been plenty. Her entire body was already crisscrossed with whip cuts, most of which were still bleeding, and some of which were bleeding profusely. Her entire body was red with her blood. And yet, in spite of the agony of having her hairs pulled out by the roots, she appeared to be talking to the women.

Initially, they looked up with astonishment at the girl's hooded face. But she continued talking and the two women, drunk though they were, returned to their task. As they worked away, they removed every hair below a dense patch of golden-brown hair above her cunt lips. While he had never counted pubic hairs, Bill was fairly certain the girl had made over a thousand dollars by the time they finished.

While the women were working, a man came over with a bullwhip. After talking to the women, he adjusted the frame again so that the girl was horizontal. With great care, he measured her and cracked the whip across her tits. Bill had been astounded. The girl was actually arching her back and thus raising her chest to make her tits more prominent. And then when her breasts were almost sliced in two, she appeared to thank the man. Moreover, she continued to arch her body and then thank him after every stroke. After 10 strokes — $500 — he quit, and she thanked him again.

The torture and abuse continued. When the women finished, two men took their places. Lowering the detents to the floor, the girl was made to remain on her hands and knees. One man proceeded to fuck her in the ass while she gave the other a blow job. It was apparent that the first ripped her anus as he drove his cock up her ass while it was dry. Because the assault was so sudden and came with her rectum dry, it caused her to let out an agonizing scream which was largely muffled by the large cock in her mouth. But still, to Bill's utter astonishment, the girl appeared to thank the man whose cock she had just sucked, and even the man whose cock had so ravaged her ass.

When they finished fucking her ass and her mouth, she was positioned on her back with her legs spread wide apart and was ordered to elevate her pelvis while another woman proceeded to whip her cunt, already raw from having all the pubic hair pulled out by the roots.

When a whiplash cut into her clitoris, the girl let out an agonized scream and appeared to lose consciousness, causing her body to drop flat on the floor. The fact that her pelvis was no longer elevated served to enrage her tormentor who redoubled her efforts. Finally, the woman was dragged away by attendants, probably because she had run out of money.

In the final event of the evening, the girl was forced to take men three ways at once. Both her vagina and rectum were bleeding badly by this time, but that only seemed to thrill her tormentors more.

To Bill, the remarkable element was how beautiful the girl truly was in spite of the masking of her body by the flow of her own blood. It was obvious that she was in superb physical condition — or had been before her torture began.

She had full, beautifully shaped breasts with tiny pink nipples although both had been repeatedly lacerated by whip cuts and were now essentially cut up like small hemispheric pies. Moreover, when she was whipped, she jerked against her bonds causing the muscles in her body to stand out. Why, Bill wondered, is she doing this? She's utterly beautiful — or at least her body is. Why would she allow herself to be destroyed? He could not come up with any reasonable answer to his own question.

At one o'clock, the appalling show came to an end. He almost became ill when the master of ceremonies asked for a round of applause for a great trouper as the girl was released from the frame. As the show ended, she had been absorbing yet another whipping, so when her wrists were released she just dropped to her knees. Then she rose to her feet slowly and was helped towards the back of the darkened room.

The MC promised another show the following night, but added that he didn't think it would be as exciting as tonight's was. Bill's last sight of the girl was of her taking a rather large paper bag in her arms. Her share of the night's take? Bill wondered. Then she disappeared, and he made his way to the exit while trying to control his urge to vomit. And he had had only had two bottles of beer all night.