Paul Gable - Tortured daughter

Two hours passed quickly. Dr. Endicott arrived as Max had predicted, as cold as ever, telling her sharply to get dressed, then showing her the various facilities nearby – washroom, shower area, dining hall down the way.

"Of course, everything here is regulated," Dr. Endicott said, stopping in front of her office door. Cindy felt so vulnerable once more, just as she'd felt when Max and Jack closed the elevator door behind her. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes, yes, Dr. Endicott!" Cindy gasped, remembering what Max and Jack had said.

"Fine. Then come in. I want to acquaint you with some more of our policies."

They entered Alicia Endicott's office, the setting sun adding a peculiar pall to the setting. Against the back wall, near a tall wide case filled with medical books, was an enormous fireplace with gargoyles carved into the surrounding molding. Cindy felt chilled just staring at the hideous thing. Two throne-like chairs flanked either side of the fireplace, their faded-gold upholstery contrasting oddly with the dark-blue carpeting covering the floor. Dr. Endicott sat behind her large desk, sifting through several papers and reading in a monotone voice finally about the various disciplinary rules.

"… and at no time are patients to question the authority of the doctors, nurses or attendants at the hospital."

Hospital? Is that what she called this place? Cindy nearly laughed. She remembered how she had squirmed and bucked under Max's attack. Would Dr. Endicott call that part of her treatment? She kept still, sitting primly in front of the doctor with her hands meekly folded in her lap.

"Is everything clear now, dear?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Cindy felt her stomach growling with hunger. Only now did she realize that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. The idea of going to Hannah Manor had upset her so much that she couldn't even think of having lunch. It must be five, maybe six o'clock by now. The girl remembered what Dr. Endicott said about the dining hall and wondered if they would be serving dinner soon.

"Come with me," she said, rising from behind her desk. "I think it's time we have our first therapy session… before dinner, that is. It's good to start off on the right foot."

The woman was so businesslike that Cindy actually felt some of her fear fading away perhaps things would be better.

Cindy followed Dr. Endicott down a long corridor, the facing red, sunlight coloring the walls oddly. In a moment she realized that they were heading toward the rear of the large castle-like house. Again, she saw no one else. Where was everyone? How many girls did they have here? Once or twice she had heard stories about Hannah Manor, wild stories about this place that was supposed to be an experimental house for alcohol abusers. Many newscasters had tried to find some sort of story angle to the place, but nothing had been found. Dr. Endicott had a psychiatric degree, was state licensed, and had served the institute well, apparently. Gossip stories still abounded, whispered about by some of the girls at school who said they knew girls who'd been to the institute and how screwed up they were afterward. Ex-drunks might tell lies. They would do anything to get sympathy or attention for what they'd gone through. Cindy had seen some of them on television and almost giggled at the way they looked and talked. Well, now she was in the same situation, and there was nothing particularly funny bout it.

"In here."

Cindy followed Alicia down a narrow flight of concrete stairs into a large, oak-paneled room. The door closed behind her. When Alicia fucked on the lights, Cindy was able to see the furnishings of the room more closely. And what she saw made her break into a cold sweat. Hanging on the walls of the room were strange, frightening-looking instruments. In the center of the room was a large wooden keg with a small brass faucet in it.

"What is this?" Cindy gasped, turning, her eyes wide with fear as she felt her uniform clinging damply, uncomfortably to her flesh.

Dr. Endicott said nothing, her businesslike manner still apparent as she slipped the keys into her white uniform and began unraveling the tight bun at the back of her head. Cindy watched mutely as Alicia's silver hair tumbled to her shoulders. Even with that, the woman looked no less stern.

"Come here, dear."

Cindy hesitated, then realized she had no other alternative. Alicia had locked the door and slipped the keys into her pocket. Sucking in her lower lip, she moved toward the woman, her heart beating wildly.

"Now, we have our session," Alicia said, mechanically removing the teenager's clothing. The gown fell easily from Cindy's shoulders. Panties and bras were just not part of the uniform at Hannah Manor. Cindy was to soon to find out why.

"Why are you doing this to me?" the girl asked. She had heard about all sorts of strange psychiatric treatments. But psychoanalysis in the nude? That was something new to her.

"It's all part of your treatment here, dear," Alicia went on, undisturbed by the girl's growing anxiety. "Actually, it's going to be in two parts. The first is solo," Alicia began to explain, leading Cindy by one hand to a large wooden stockade to the right of the barrel. "The second part will involve your friend, Judy Farraday. She'll be down here to join us shortly."

"Judy?"

Before she could ask more questions Cindy found herself thrust forward against the stockade. Alicia took advantage of her disorientation and shock, quickly opening the top portion of the instrument and shoving her arms through the two holes.

She was being pilloried just like some Puritan back in New England! She knocked her knees against the flat wooden, board, twisting her head around and staring uncomprehendingly at Dr. Endicott.

"It's true!" Cindy gasped, staring up wide-eyed.

"What's true, dear?"

"The stories. The stories about this place I've heard!"

Alicia moved around, raising another portion of the board up and thrusting one of the girl's legs into another hole. She was a strong, determined woman, ignoring the teen's frantic attempts to kick herself free. In a moment Cindy was entrapped, her arms and legs locked firmly in place. Only then did the full force of her panic hit her. Snapping her head from left to right, she pulled at the holding boards. But the device held firm, keeping her in place. The brace at the bottom keeping the pillory level didn't even squeak as Cindy bounced her ass up and down in mid-air. Finally she stopped, feeling her head pounding violently. Her heart raced as she watched Alicia step slowly toward a leather riding crop hanging on the wall.

"That," said Alicia, when Cindy was finally quiet, "is called a pillory. It was used to punish people who varied from the norm of society. You did that by using liquor." Alicia removed the crop and fingered the smooth black leather almost lovingly.

"That isn't true!" Cindy cried.

"Liar!"

Alicia brought the crop down hard just to the right of the girl's chin. The cracking sound made Cindy scream, her flesh dampening with perspiration. The woman moved around slowly, rhythmically tapping the crop against the palm of her other hand.

"Your parents caught you. They did the right thing, taking you here to Hannah Manor before your problem became too great," Alicia went on more calmly, stopping just behind the trembling blonde teen. "And now we've got to make certain you won't slip back into an alcohol-abuser's pattern."

Cindy tried adjusting her position as best she could in the pillory, the rough wood scratching and prickling her naked flesh painfully. Cindy waited, waited for the first blow she was certain would come. Her father had occasionally whipped her when she was a bad little girl. And now it was happening all over again. Only this time she couldn't use her hands to defend herself.