DEPRAVED-3-EBOOK

by Smith, Bryan

  Alice wanted out, goddammit, whatever it took and while it was still—theoretically, at least—possible. Making that happen required tremendous finesse. She had to make Sam want to risk his life in order to get her on that helicopter.

  Convincing a guard to take that risk was said to be impossible. The men and women employed by Prison 13 had undergone an extreme level of vetting prior to being hired. Sam, presumably, had met all the standard moral flexibility requirements. He had been a bad guy on the outside, like the rest of them, and was considered fit for the job.

  But Alice was breaking him down, bit by little bit, enticing him to do increasingly more risky things for her. The culmination of all this was his presence here tonight. Sam was a day shift guard and as such was required to return to the staff housing section of the prison after lights out. At last, after many months of trying, she had convinced him to stay overnight, luring him in with promises of the wildest sexual experience of his life.

  Alice looked his way as Lucy finished cleaning his ejaculate from her face with her tongue. The wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on his face made her feel like she might be closer to accomplishing her ultimate goal than she would have guessed.

  “Lucy, get that other thing for me. You know what I mean.”

  The other woman climbed off the futon and did a sexy, hip-swaying walk over to the other side of the cell, dragging the extended tips of her fingers across Sam’s face as she did so, making him shiver. Against the far wall stood an open steamer trunk, a very old and rickety one held together with an ample amount of duct tape. Like so many of Alice’s things, it’d once belonged to Kathy Harris. Lucy reached inside the trunk and retrieved the requested item. She carried it over to Alice, who took it from her as she rose from the futon.

  “Turn around, Sam,” Alice said, licking her lips. “I want you on your hands and knees.”

  Sam hesitated, doubt clouding his expression. “I, uh, I don’t know if…”

  “I don’t care what you think you know. Just do as you’re told.”

  The guard flinched at her stern tone. For a moment, Alice’s heart beat a little faster as she worried whether she’d guessed wrong about the man’s submissive tendencies. But then Sam let out a slow breath and did as she’d instructed.

  Smiling, Alice pulled on the strap-on device, fastened it, and went to him.

  In the infirmary, Nurse Livia Collins was waiting for Sally Nielsen to regain consciousness. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be here at this hour. As a day shift employee, she had two approved leisure time options. She could either retire to her staff housing room once her shift was over, or she could hang out at one of two on-site social clubs. The clubs were the Bloody Goat Tavern and Berlin 666. The former had a low-key, old-fashioned English pub atmosphere, while the vibe of the latter was more along the lines of a decadent European nightclub.

  Livia sometimes enjoyed accompanying Dr. Woronov to Berlin 666, especially on those nights when a random inmate was put to death on stage after an extensive—and exquisitely creative—torture session. But this was the middle of the week and nothing that interesting was on the club’s posted entertainment schedule. Sometimes there would be unannounced live sex shows and those could be enjoyable as well. Again, as long as Dr. Woronov was with her.

  However, the doctor had begged off tonight, claiming to have a headache. She had used the same excuse a lot lately. Livia suspected something else was happening, that the doctor perhaps had a new lover. Some mystery woman she was canoodling with in her bed even now, most likely. So annoying.

  To take her mind off it, she wanted to have some after-hours fun with Sally. Again, it was technically against the rules, but Dr. Woronov was her only direct overseer and the doctor had long ago communicated her approval of such nocturnal pursuits.

  Livia was glad to have a new inmate with whom she could play. Agnes and Samantha were no longer as much fun as they had been prior to having their brains scrambled with a needle. Though she enjoyed performing lobotomies, what was left over afterward was always a lot less interesting.

  Of course, both women had been thoroughly broken by that point and had already outworn their welcome. With a new subject on hand for her experiments, Livia would kill those other used-up bitches before the end of the night and have the bodies taken to the crematorium.

  Sally groaned and turned her head a minute degree to the left, her eyes fluttering a moment, long enough to make Livia believe she was finally about to wake up. Soon, though, her eyes stopped fluttering and she started snoring.

  The nurse struck the woman across the face with the back of her hand. This elicited a pitiful whimper and another very brief flutter of those eyes, but the woman remained unconscious.

  “Wake up, bitch!”

  Livia hit her again. Again, there was only the slightest stirring.

  “Dammit.”

  This was frustrating. Livia enjoyed torturing her patients. Actually, she loved causing them pain and reveled in the screams her work elicited. Sometimes she was sure the pleasure she derived from it surpassed anything she got out of sex. Ordinary sex, anyway. In truth, causing pain was a very sexual thing for her. Many of her most orgasmic moments came while she was inflicting physical pain on other people.

  And that was the problem she was having tonight. Too much time had passed since the last time she’d been able to do her thing on anyone fully able to appreciate the horror of what was happening to them. There had been a drought of new subjects of late. Here, finally, was a fresh one and she was just lying here silently like a big, useless lump of meat.

  That Sally was proving so difficult to rouse was both annoying and mystifying. She wasn’t knocked out on painkillers the way she’d be at a mainstream medical facility. She should be all the way awake and moaning in misery right now, but she was stubbornly staying behind the protective barrier of sleep.

  At last, Livia couldn’t take it any longer. She took a scalpel from the tray atop the medical cart she’d parked next to the bed and used it to cut open the front of the sleeping woman’s flimsy gown. Pulling the separated pieces apart, she took a moment to admire the woman’s trim but shapely torso. Sally wasn’t the most beautiful woman to ever pass through the infirmary’s doors, but she wasn’t bad either.

  Not at all.

  Working quickly, Livia pinched a nipple, pulled at it to bring it to its fullest possible extension, and used the scalpel to separate it from Sally’s breast. This resulted in a pleasing sharp gasp of pain from the patient, who, at long last, emerged groggily from sleep.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered open and focused fuzzily on the nurse. “Wh-what’s…happening?” Her bleary gaze flicked to her torso, eyes widening now as she glimpsed the blood spreading across her chest. “Oh…that fucking hurts. What did you do to me?”

  “I cut your nipple off.” Livia grinned at the anguished groan the remark elicited from Sally. “But there’s good news, Sally. I’ve decided you can have it back.”

  The woman’s face twisted with pain and confusion. “What…” Her mouth opened wider as a louder moan worked its way up from her chest and passed between her quivering lips. “What…do you mean?”

  The bloody nipple was still pinched between the nurse’s thumb and forefinger. Smiling wider now, she plopped the bit of tough flesh into Sally’s open mouth and slapped a hand over it. She sneered as she leaned closer and said, “Swallow it, bitch! Swallow your putrid fucking flesh, you disgusting hag!”

  Sally gagged behind the hand covering her mouth. Her throat muscles worked, but the nipple wasn’t yet making its way down her esophagus.

  Livia put the scalpel to Sally’s throat, letting her feel the exquisitely sharp edge of the blade. She allowed her a moment to realize how easily it could part her tender flesh. Sally’s eyes brimmed with tears, but they were clearer now, reflecting none of the grogginess of before. It was fascinating to sense the thought process taking place behind those eyes, the effort that went
into making herself calm down and focus on the act of swallowing.

  Sally’s throat muscles moved again. This time she swallowed the severed nipple.

  Smiling again, Livia took her hand away from the patient’s mouth and dropped the bloody scalpel in a bowl atop the bedside cart. She opened one of the cart’s drawers and removed two small items, both wrapped in paper, allowing Sally a moment to glimpse the items as she tore the paper away. The look of wide-eyed dread on the woman’s face gave Livia a pleasantly tingly feeling in her nether regions.

  Next she fed a length of suture thread through the eye of a surgical needle and went to work on Sally’s wound. Again, she worked quickly, suturing the ragged edges of flesh and drawing them together with a deftness that betrayed an ingrained professionalism.

  Like the doctor, she had years of legitimate, real world experience in her field. However, a trail of mysteriously dead patients left in her wake as she moved from job to job eventually made life difficult for her in the outside world. She had just started feeling some real heat from the law when Prison 13’s representative paid her a visit with an offer she couldn’t refuse. At that point, she was out of other good options and, hell, what was on offer sounded like a dream come true. She would get paid to act out all her darkest, most secret fantasies. What could be better than that?

  Sally screamed as the needle penetrated her flesh again and again without the benefit of anesthetic. She tried twisting away from the needle, but this did her no good. Her handless arms had been securely lashed to the sides of the bed. She couldn’t move them at all. She struggled mightily anyway, jerking at her bonds with the fierceness of a rabid dog.

  Livia finished the job and displayed the suture needle for Sally, putting it close to her sweat-sheened face. “Stop struggling or I’ll make you swallow this.”

  Sally stopped struggling at once. She remained defiant, though, as she spoke through her tears. “You fucking monster.”

  Livia arched an eyebrow as she tossed the used needle in a hazmat bin. “I get that you’re sore at me. It’s understandable. I would be too in your place. But I’m not in your place, Sally. I’m the one with the power here and I can do whatever I want to you. So, again, if I were you, I’d watch what you say to me. You never know what might happen.” She shrugged, smiling. “You might even get that tongue of yours cut out.”

  Sally said nothing, but it was clear she was seething inwardly. That was okay with Livia. As long as the bitch obeyed and kept her mouth shut, she was happy.

  Livia opened the cart’s middle drawer and took out a long manila envelope. “Good girl, Sally. Staying calm is always a good thing. That’s something you’ll need to keep in mind going forward. You see, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  Sally frowned. “Bad news? Worse than this? How is that possible?”

  Livia opened the envelope and withdrew a long piece of x-ray film, holding it up for Sally to see.

  “While you were unconscious, the doctor gave you a thorough physical examination. She detected some troubling symptoms and ordered scans. This is a scan of your chest. As you can see…” The nurse pointed to a random spot on the chart. “There are some very startling anomalies. We’ll have to operate, I’m afraid.”

  Sally’s breathing quickened, her features twisting with a deepening concern. “What? What are you talking about? Hold that closer. I don’t see anything.”

  Livia slid the piece of x-ray film back into the envelope and returned it to the cart’s middle drawer. The scan was not actually one of Sally’s chest. It was a random piece of x-ray film pilfered from old files. The patient, of course, didn’t need to know that. It was just another part of the game, a familiar, ghoulish play the nurse had acted out many times during her years at Prison 13.

  She picked up the bloody scalpel again. “With all due respect, you filthy fucking whore, we are medical professionals and you are scum. You should be grateful we even care enough to do this for you.”

  Sally’s whole body vibrated. More sweat formed on her forehead. “Don’t do this. Please. God help me. Please don’t.”

  Livia laughed. “Oh, please. God doesn’t care about you, you silly cow. Look at you. Would you be here if He did?”

  Sally’s mouth opened and a strangled sob emerged. “Please. I’m begging you.”

  The nurse giggled, delight coursing through her. “Ah, the begging, it’s started. Believe me, you’re far from finished with that.”

  Before the patient could respond again, Livia plunged the scalpel into the woman’s abdomen just below the sternum. She then began to saw at the flesh along the edge of the ribcage. Sally screamed and screamed as blood gushed out of the deep incision.

  Livia laughed and kept on cutting.

  Her given name was Lenore Flanagan, but the nickname “Spider” had been bestowed on her not long after her arrival at Prison 13 eight months ago. She didn’t mind the nickname, which derived from her habit of startling people. She crept around unnoticed a lot, suddenly popping up in strange, unlikely places when she was least expected. The other inmates found this unnerving, to understate.

  Spider was also an apt moniker for a girl who’d been considered profoundly strange throughout most of her twenty-three years on the planet. She had been called much worse things during her high school years. Being known as Spider wasn’t so bad at all, considering she did have a fondness for arachnids.

  At just shy of five feet tall and weighing maybe one-hundred pounds in her clothes, the stringy-haired brunette was a small woman. This was why she could move around the way she did, creeping about unseen like a tiny phantom. The ability was not without its advantages. Being able to wedge herself into very small spaces meant she was unusually talented at hiding from those who meant her harm.

  Another of her unnerving habits—from the perspective of the other inmates—was her penchant for climbing up to the highest possible vantage point in any room. Often when she did that, she was able to observe the people milling about on the floor for hours before anyone spotted her.

  Alas, her slippery, creepy-crawly qualities had not allowed her to elude the guards of Prison 13 tonight. She had been in her cell at lights out just like everyone else when they came for her. After a failed attempt to scuttle between their legs and seek refuge in one of her many hidey-holes elsewhere in the prison, she was shackled and taken here, to the warden’s living quarters.

  And now here she was, stripped of her clothes and on her hands and knees in Ms. Wickman’s large and ostentatiously furnished bedroom. The oversized bed with its hand-carved wood frame looked like something designed for a queen. Seated on its edge and attired only in black lace panties and bra, the warden’s pale, severe features struck Spider as vaguely aristocratic. In a way, the woman was a kind of queen, possessing a level of power so absolute it was almost godlike. She could, with utter impunity, do anything she wanted to anyone imprisoned at—or employed by—Prison 13.

  Ms. Wickman lifted her regal chin. “Move forward, girl.”

  Still on her hands and knees, Spider did as she was told.

  “Stop right there.”

  Spider stopped.

  She had moved maybe two feet forward. On the floor, directly beneath where her face was now positioned, was a sheet of sticky flypaper. Several dead flies were attached to it.

  “This is the second course of your meal tonight. You are known as Spider, correct?” The warden chuckled softly. “Don’t bother replying. I know you are. This delicacy was prepared especially for you, Spider. Enjoy.”

  Spider stared at the sheet of flypaper. She licked her lips nervously and felt a lump lodge in her throat.

  “Taste the meal we’ve prepared for you, girl,” the warden said, her tone becoming harsher. “I’ll consider it a personal insult if you refuse. Is that something you want?”

  It was not.

  Nonetheless…Spider hesitated.

  She cringed as she heard the now-familiar swish o
f the whip as it sliced through the air. It cracked across her back, bringing tears to her eyes and causing her to cry out in pain. A trickle of blood dribbled out of the fresh slice in her flesh and pattered on the floor at her side.

  The woman wielding the whip was Helga Von Trammpe, the vice-warden. She was just as scantily clad as the warden, albeit in a more flamboyant way. Instead of underwear, she was in black stiletto heels and a very small two-piece red bikini. At the crotch of the bottom piece was a swastika in a white circle. Atop her head was the black hat she always wore with the SS insignia pinned to the front.

  “Do as the warden commands, inferior filth!”

  She cracked the whip again, this time on the floor, inches away from Spider’s splayed fingers.

  Knowing she had no choice, Spider lowered her face to the sheet of flypaper. At first she tried sucking the little carcasses off the sticky paper, but this proved impossible. Instead, she pulled back her lips and nibbled at the dead flies until she’d devoured every bit of them. They felt foul in her mouth and even worse going down her throat. The flypaper stuck to her face as she finished and lifted her head from the floor. A surge of nausea assailed her as she tore it away with trembling fingers.

  Ms. Wickman smiled. “There’s a good girl. Now crawl forward and receive your next treat.”

  Forcing back the tide of nausea, Spider crawled forward another two feet.

  “Stop.”

  Spider stopped.

  Glancing down, she saw the body of a dead mouse on a plate of the finest china. The plate was white and gleaming. The dead rodent sat in a bed of sauce and garlic sprigs.

  Spider looked at Ms. Wickman. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  The warden had slipped off her panties while Spider was busy devouring the flies. She was masturbating, the fingers of her right hand flexing between her legs.