Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 03

***

May 31st, 4:22 a.m.

A now terrified, whimpering, stark naked Becka Weeks was sitting on the hard wooden floor of Mi(stre)ss Farrah's dungeon, still blindfolded, hands and feet tightly bound up in twine, a material chosen specifically for the girl's discomfort. She was sitting in a ball hugging her knees, trying to keep her private areas concealed for the moment.
"So, Becka, my young lass," said Farrah, "Enjoying yourself so far?"
She looked up in Farrah and Holly's direction, who were leering down at her. "What kind of shit are you pulling on me here?" she demanded, intimidated but trying to sound tough. "What are you, a couple of sick dykes or something?"
Holly took this question. "Hey. Listen up, you little brat. Number one, a lot of us don't care for that word; it's 'lesbian' to you, not 'dyke.' And just to prolong the lecture, it's definitely not 'fur-slurper,' or 'carpet-cruncher,' or 'muff-snuffer,' or any of those other cute little names you kids like to come up with. And two, if you're big enough to rob someone at knifepoint and stab them in the arm, you're big enough to serve the punishment for it."
Farrah cracked her knuckles. "SPEAKing of punishment, Becka..." she sneered at her, "...What say we get on with it here?" She motioned Holly to follow her. "You just sit tight, little girl, and we'll be riiight back."
They rounded the end of the hook wall to the far wall on the other side. They retrieved a jumbo sized plastic storage bin, seven feet long, two and a half feet wide, two and a half feet high, each taking an end and dragging it out to behind where Becka was sitting.
"All right, up we go," said Farrah. She took Becka by the arms, as Holly took her by the legs, together lifting her off the floor high enough to deposit her body in the plastic bin. "There we are," she continued. "Now don't you go anywhere!" she teased, waggling a patronizingly scolding finger at her. She adjourned for a moment to the restroom.

Holly took a moment to circle the bin, giving Becka's naked body a once-over. She wasn't examining the girl's exposed skin as an evaluation of physical appeal, but rather vulnerability. She remembered being undressed and restrained in this same dungeon herself. And she had been completely innocent. She had robbed no one; her only crime was not having retained fare money to get home from The Twilight. She didn't know what exactly Miss Farrah had in store for her, and as she reminded herself the girl was eighteen years old, as well as conjuring up just what Miss Farrah was capable of, she almost began to feel sorry for her...until the horrifying image of her beloved Rachel's sliced-open upper arm rematerialized in her mind.

She didn't right now intend for the thoughts in her mind to progress the way they did, but the next one to run through her brain was the first time she met her angel, in the department store. Rachel had given her a bra she thought would look pretty on her. Holly took it in the fitting room and found herself secretly wanting Rachel in there with her, watching her undress. And she recalled making such beautiful love to her barely a mere twelve hours ago before this moment...her immaculate, perfect body...

...Until...

...Until...

She found herself in a personal dilemma in regards to this obviously misguided girl. Half of her actually wanted to feel for her, to know whatever traumatized her and went so wrong to set her on the path she was on. And the other half of her wanted justice, wanted to stand up for her girlfriend, defend her honor and heavily reprimand this little cretin. The latter half wanted this girl to get everything she deserved, maybe more. And this half knew it could count on Miss Farrah to give it to her. Actually, it wasn't quite half, it was more 35-65. She remembered the horrible tableau that sat before her on her bathroom floor. The blood...the peroxide...the tears. Now it was 20-80. She turned away from Becka. She didn't want to look at her right now.

Farrah returned from the lavatory, dragging a snaking object behind her. Holly turned to see what she was holding: a...garden hose? She turned and took a few steps around where Farrah was standing. It was. A hose connected to...apparently connected to the faucet. She looked puzzledly at Miss Farrah, who was holding it by the squirt trigger. She put a quick finger to her lips.

This should be interesting, she thought. "What the hell are you gonna do with that?" she asked.

Farrah answered her in two descending, low, drawn-out tones. "YOU'll see..." She aimed it right at Becka's nose and squeezed the trigger.

The sprayer's diameter was about five inches. Becka suddenly felt very, very, very cold water popping all over her face. It came at her fast and hard. Goosebumps jumped up on her skin. She started to scream but the water also formed a liquid muzzle on her. The scream turned into a panicked gargle. She started waving her arms and legs up and down as much as the restraints would allow her. When she raised her arms to cover her face, Farrah sprayed her in the breasts instead. And moved up and down on her, as she tried to protect herself with her arms. The water was freezing. And fast; it really pounded her. She flailed and flopped all about the inside of the bin, just trying to get a little relief. It was an entertaining scene; Holly had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing at her.

What Holly didn't know and Becka definitely didn't know was that there was actually a purpose to this spray treatment, but she'd need a lot more water in the bin before said purpose could be carried out. So Farrah had a little more fun with her, which amused Holly and herself a great deal. She rectangled the bin several times, soaking and showering Becka up and down, over and over. Her spastic, helpless jiggling looked ironically like a fish out of water. Each time Farrah hit her face, Becka put her arms up over her head and shook it vigorously back and forth, and so Farrah again would promptly move to her lower body, ad infinitum.

When a nice couple of inches had accumulated in the bottom of the bin, Farrah upped the ante on her. She picked up Becka's feet by the twine around her ankles, lifted them just about to a 135° angle, bent her at the knees to spread her legs a little, and sprayed her smack between the thighs, icing her from cunt to ass.

She might as well have hammered a high-striker on the pitch of Becka's voice; it shot up five octaves. Becka went crazy, shooting off a repetitive stream of quick, ear-piercing screeches, thrashing as much as she could inside the bin, which didn't offer the most generous amount of space to begin with. At this display, Holly couldn't hold it back any more. Her hand popped off her mouth and she laughed so hard she lost her balance and let herself down on her knees, gripping onto the side of the bin for support, getting herself a little wet in the process.

Becka was desperately spitting water out. "STOP it!" she cried above the top of her voice, like a four-year-old. "STOP! PLEEEEASE!!"

Oh, you poor pitiful thing, Holly mentally remarked.

"Hey, you wanna hose her down for a while?" Farrah asked Holly.

That sounded like fun. Holding on to her ankles, Farrah handed her the sprayer. Holly took over the watering.

"Thanks, that whining's already on my nerves," said Farrah, holding up her feet by the twine with her left hand and digging her fingernails into the bottoms of Becka's feet with her right. The screeching and begging morphed into guffawing and full-out, lung-puncturing screaming.

While Farrah was tickling her soles, Holly held the spray on Becka's face with the hose, just to malevolently mess with her. She did indeed seem to be reverting to a child with the facial expressions she was making and the noises her larynx produced.

"Poor little psychopath," Holly said to Farrah. "Think she's learning her lesson?"

"Oh, I think she's grasping the basic concept at least," replied Farrah. Calling down to Becka, she raised her voice, slowed down the pace of her speech and sadistically asked, "Aw, what's the matter, little girl? Things going pretty rough for you right now?"

In response, Becka just coughed and sputtered breathlessly between the forced laughs, jerking her body back and forth in the water, covering as much of her head as she could with her arms.

"Huh?" Farrah went on condescendingly in a childish voice. "Are the mean ladies tormenting you?" she taunted the shivering, shaking girl. "Are they, Becka? Are they giving you a hard time? Are those nasty old ladies making your life a living HELL?"

"Ha!" said Holly. "Yeah, literally, but she doesn't know that."

After a few more short moments of this, the water level was starting to climb almost the whole way on top of the portion of her body that still lay flat in the bin. Once Farrah decided the water had risen sufficiently, she ceased the tickle treatment and said, "Okay, that's enough."

"Aw, really? Okay," Holly agreed, releasing the spray trigger and handing it back to Farrah.

"A'right, you just rest for a minute, kiddo," Farrah told Becka, dropping her feet on the edge of the bin.

"OW!" she cried.

Farrah returned the hose to the bathroom, came back through the main area and around to where she and Holly had pulled out the plastic bin. Holly didn't exactly see what she was doing. She was plugging an extension cord into the wall. She stepped back out to Holly and Becka again, holding something else in the cradle of her arms. Extension cord socket in one hand, she looked at Holly and put her other hand's index finger to her lips. Holly raised her eyebrows inquisitively, as Farrah dramatically displayed for her...

...A Violet Wand.

An electric Violet Wand.

With an electric plug on the end of the adapter connected to it.

It wasn't the same Wand Farrah had given Holly a taste of—or rather, a whiff of—ten years ago, but a look of shock (no pun intended) clouded Holly's face anyway. She looked at the girl lying still in the water in the plastic bin, desperately inhaling and exhaling, gasping for oxygen, put it all together in her mind, then gaped back at Farrah in amazement, who carefully, soundlessly slipped the not yet plugged in Wand into the water.

"My God, you really ARE The Devil, aren't you?" Holly asked.

"And don't you ever forget it, my pets." She turned her attention to Becka. "Now, little girl...at this point, we want to ask you a few questions. You will want to consider your answers very carefully. But not for too long, of course. Oh, and I promise you this: you'll also want to be more honest than you were about your age."

Becka was still very chilly, goosebumpy and short of breath. Every part of her was drenched, and her entire torso was heaving trying to get her breathing under control. And this question the one woman just asked the other one—about her really being "The Devil"—made her feel more frightened still, and not without good reason.

"Now then, my girl," Farrah continued, addressing Becka, "The first thing I'd like to know is, where do you live?"

Farrah of course already knew, having seen the forms of ID on her, she just wanted to hear her answer.

Becka turned in her direction briefly. "W-...with my parents," she squeaked.

"Oh? Do they not take care of you?"

Becka squirmed and let out a whimper.

"Answer, please, Becka?"

"They do...take care of me," she said.

"And what, then, may I ask, are you doing out in the dead of night robbing folks with your knife at the 7-11?"

Becka turned her head back the other way and began to softly weep.

"Clock is ticking, Becka."

Becka didn't know how to answer her.

Farrah aligned the Wand's adapter's prongs with the socket. "Five...four...three...two..."

Becka didn't know what she was counting down to, but she figured she'd better try to get something out. Unfortunately, her panicked mind wouldn't cooperate. "I...I-I-I..."

"Time's up." She plugged in the Wand. It activated, and off shot the current, sending the generated shock of ionized electricity through the girl's body. The crackle of the electricity was audible, but not as audible as the pain-bursting bloodcurdler that came out of Becka's mouth. She felt as if she were zapped right out of her own skin.

Farrah let it go for two seconds, then took the plug back out. Becka's reaction after the electrocution wore off was exactly the same as would be a very small child's—as well as many other grown adults'. She threw out a wracking sob. It was comparable to an infant, but an infant would be incapable of following up a crying fit with the words, "What the fuck?!"

Farrah kneeled down in front of Becka. Leaning down to address her right in the face, she lowered her tone.

"You do know where BAD little girls go for doing bad things...do you not, Becka?"

She waited a few seconds. Becka was silent, trying to stop crying. "Well, you do now.Welcome to hell."

Becka looked at her with two horrified eyes under her blindfold.

"My name is Farrah. I'll be your tour guide."

Her bawling quieted down, hands over her eyes. "I'll give you another chance to answer," said Farrah. "Do you remember what the question was?"

"I...um..." Becka sniffled, her skin feeling like it was burning. "I needed money...for..." She exhaled another cry. "...for cigarettes."

Holly's face filled with surprise. WHOA, déjà-fucking-vu! her mind said. First Rachel, now this little thing?

"What the..." she exclaimed. She turned around and took a few paces in the opposite direction. She hated cigarettes more than she hated most things in this world. "What is it with these goddamned cigarettes?!" she wanted to know.

Farrah started to ask the next question.

"And did you h—"

"Whoa, no, no, wait a minute, Miss Farrah, hold on," Holly broke in. She looked down at Becka. "Let me get this straight, Becka. So along with her money and her phone, you stole my girlfriend's cigarettes?"

Becka turned her face this time in the opposite direction from Holly and silently wept.

This time it was Holly who added, "Clock is ticking, Becka."

"Yes! Yes! I did!" bawled Becka.

Holly looked up, a bit uncertain. She rubbed her chin, paused a moment and looked back to Farrah.

"Your witness."

She turned and walked the few steps away again, one hand on her forehead, one on her hip, doing some thinking. Farrah resumed interrogating Becka, but Holly stopped paying attention momentarily. The situation had turned somewhat ironic. Additional circumstances aside, it turned out that Becka had stopped Rachel from smoking, which was exactly what Holly had been trying to do for months. Perhaps not permanently, but in a bizarre twist, the little psycho'd held Rache off the nicotine. On the other hand, even though this small factor ended up working in Holly's favor, she also took her money, purse and phone, and stabbed her, which remained much worse.

Hmm, thought Holly. Her girlfriend was obviously now very discouraged from smoking, which was incredibly important to Holly. Yet she was also injured, and had Holly and Farrah not caught this girl, Rache'd also still be broke and have her property stolen. On top of which, this young criminal would still be walking the streets, looking for others to attack and rob. Hm, she thought again. It didn't really matter; this addiction Rachel had was something that should just be worked out between the two of them, and the girl shouldn't have stolen Rachel's things and slashed her arm in the first place. She did have to pay for it.

Still, Farrah saw the debate in Holly's face. She had paused the interrogation. Knowing what Holly was thinking, "Look at your phone," she said.

Holly turned her phone on. It was still showing the picture of Rachel's wounded arm. When she saw it again, all the anger rushed back. So that was why Miss Farrah made her take the picture: motivation. Holly was beginning to see red again. The girl might have inadvertently kept Rachel from smoking, but this was still inexcusable. Eighteen years old or not, she needed this girl to feel the pain she'd inflicted on them. She whipped back around on Farrah.

"Make her suffer."

Farrah turned back to the girl. "You heard the lady, Becka." Becka barely had time to throw out a pleading gasp before Farrah gave her another wet shock. The agony-engulfed screams echoed around the entire warehouse for three seconds this time before Farrah let her back off the hook again.

Becka was once more heaving enormous breaths to accommodate the totality of her wrenching cries. When she again regained the ability to think, she screamed, "I'm SORRY! I'm SORRY! I'm...s-...so sor-...ry!"

Holly and Farrah paused a second to look at each other.

"Aw, why, did you hear that?" Becka heard Holly ask Farrah. "She's 'sorry,'" she said, drawing the word out mockingly. Returning her gaze to the girl, she said, "Wow, y'know, that's funny, Becka, 'cause, I've gotta tell ya, it really didn't seem to me like you were quite that sorry when you were trying to rob us."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly get that vibe either," agreed Farrah.

"Let me ask you something, kid," continued Holly. "Are you sorry because of what you've done to my girlfriend, or are you sorry 'cause we caught you?"

"B-BOTH!" Becka sputtered out. "And-and everything!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry for everything!"

"You didn't think what the ramifications for such an act might be, did you?"

Becka just wept.

"No, you did not. And you know, as a teacher, I see that a lot," said Holly. "That's the problem with you children: you never consider the consequences of your actions."

"Yeah—now let me ask you something, Becka, my dear," Farrah addressed her. She knelt down to lean in close to her until their faces were only inches apart. Turning on the scary voice, she growled, "Did you really think you were gonna get away with that?"

Becka reflexively turned away from Farrah and pouted again.

Farrah gave Becka her dominant glare. She inserted the Wand plug just far enough into the socket to begin to activate it. "Your Hellmistress asked you another question, little girl."

Feeling the hint of the jolt, Becka yelped again and shouted, "No! Uh-...yes!...I...I-I don't know!"

While Farrah admonished her, Holly remembered something else Rachel had told her on the way to the hospital. She'd had a total of $37 with her at the moment she'd come out of the 7-11 with the cigarettes. She opened Rachel's purse to check the wallet. Empty.

Holly spun around in Becka's direction to start grilling her, but thought again first. She checked the girl's purse. Certain enough, near the top of the purse heap was a crumpled up wad of American currency, in the form of three 10s, a 5 and two singles.

Ah. My girlfriend's cash, thank you very much, Holly said, replacing it in its rightful spot. She had just put Rachel's wallet and purse away in a safe spot. Thank goodness Rache kept her keys in a different place, so she had a way to get home from the store, she thought. This thought, though unrelated, led her to another thought. She went back into Becka's purse to see if she could find any more cash, stolen or otherwise. And after just a little bit of digging, bingo. More cash, and...whoa. And some more interesting things, that...obviously also didn't belong to her.

Inspiration had struck. Holly squatted down on the other side of the bin, looked at Farrah with a finger to her lips, jerked her head and darted her eyes over to the side to motion Farrah to join her for a quick word.