EXTRACT FOR
A Murder In Eden (book 3 Of The Eden Series)
(W. Richard St. James)

DO YOU KNOW why you are here tonight?"  Lydia stared out at the twelve novices sitting on the cold bare floor in front of her.  They were not all, she thought, the sort she usually brought in as students.  Too skinny, too chubby, too short, too tall, too plain.  Most of them would have been turned away, under normal circumstances.  Not Emil and Amelia of course, and two of the other girls.  Even Yusuf was too tall, too assertive.

The students still looked a little dazed.  That was intentional.  They had been aroused from a sound sleep, one made doubly sound by a drug she had slipped into an evening snack.  

"Where are we?" one of them asked.  They had stumbled through a maze of dark corridors into this strange, barren room.

"It's the punishment room!" another whispered, and there was a shudder.  Everyone knew that the punishment room existed, there were even some of the older students who were rumoured to have been there, but no one knew anything about what went on there.

"Yes," another echoed, "the punishment room."  But the air seemed too cold, too dry.  There was a strange, unfamiliar, acrid tinge to it.

"The priests are coming," Yusuf said, answering Lydia's question.  He was their leader now, it was clear.  Even Emil and Amelia deferred to him, looking up at him expectantly as he rose to speak.

"Yes," Lydia sighed.  "The priests are coming."

"They want to see us working," a girl said.  One of the chubbier ones, but hadn't Paula been chubby once?  Was she hiding the same explosive sensuality under that baby fat?  "Maybe," she added, "they want to try us out."  She preened a bit, thrusting out barely existent breasts, and that brought out a mixture of giggles and groans from the others.

"Yes," Lydia said.  She could not hide her surprise at how calm they all were at the prospect.  They were supposed to be groggy and confused, but they were rallying already.  Tough little kids, well, not really kids, she thought, too bad for them.  It was just going to make the next few hours all the harder.  

"Look," Yusuf said, "do you think we're stupid?  Do you think you can just ignore us and we'll go away?  Do you think we aren't worried?  Why haven't you been training us?"

"I don't know," the counsellor answered.  The last thing she had expected was this cocky defiance.  "Noah hasn't been well."  She looked out at twelve sets of very alert little eyes. Too alert.  She must have misjudged the dosage of the sleeping potion she had given them.  "Mary didn't think you were ready," she said at last.  "But it doesn't matter now, what she thinks, or what I think.  Time has run out.  We have our orders.  We will do what must be done."

Coddled, she muttered to herself, these are just a bunch of coddled little brats.  Mary has gone soft, she has lost track of the way students should be treated.  Keep them on edge, keep them insecure, never let them get too comfortable.  That is the way it should be done.  That was how it had been when I was in school.  But no, they play games, they go to the beach, they hardly even go to class.  Slaves, that's what they are, fortunate slaves, perhaps, but slaves nevertheless.  Tonight is going to make them remember that for a very long time.

The grimness of her tone made the novices nervous.  Where was Mary?  Where was Sarah?  It was just Lydia and them, in this barren little room.  It was without furniture of any kind, just a bare, hard floor, so shiny it was almost like a mirror, a ceiling that cast off a dim, uniform glow, and windowless walls lined with closet doors.  What lay behind those doors?  The thought was not pleasant.

"About the training," one of the girls said, shyly, trying to please this woman who suddenly seemed so frightening.

"What about it?" Lydia snapped.

"We've been practicing," the girl said.  "On our own."  There were smirks and nods from the others.  Yes, they'd been good, they were trying.  There was no need to be displeased with them.

"Practicing?" Lydia frowned.  "Practicing what?"

"Fucking," the girl said proudly, to a little chorus of titters. "We're old enough," she added defiantly, "why not?"  

Lydia was swearing under her breath.  "With whom?" she snarled.  She had given the other students specific orders to keep their hands, and all other parts of their anatomy, off of these exotics.  Whoever had violated her trust was going to pay, and pay dearly.

"Me," Yusuf said proudly.

"You?" Lydia snorted.  "Take your pants off."  Too little to do much damage, she thought with some relief.  "Okay," she said, "no harm done.  As far as anyone is concerned, you're all virgins, understand?  Except for you two," she pointed to Emil and Amelia.  "Everyone knows you've been working."

"You're selling their virginity?" Amelia asked.  "Mary told us she would never do that."

"Well, precious Mary isn't here, is she?" Lydia said.  "I don't see her, do you?"

"Does Mary know about this?" Yusuf asked.  Lydia shook her head.  "I think we should go, now."  Yusuf shifted so that he was poised to rise again.  "I'm not comfortable, being down here without Mary or Noah."

"I'm afraid, dearest," Lydia simpered, "that's not possible."

"You're going to stop me?" Yusuf snorted.  "You, and what army?"  He got up and walked to the doorway.  It was not locked, but when he opened it, it revealed, not the corridor they had walked down, but a wall of glass that showed a black sky blazing with stars.  There was a stunned silence.

"We're not on Eden," one of the boys stammered.

"Very perceptive," Lydia sneered.

"We're not even near Eden," one of the others said.  "Look at all those stars!"

"Even better," Lydia glowed with sarcasm.  "Go to the head of the class."

"You took us through a wormhole?"  Amelia was gasping in surprise.  "You kidnapped us?  Why?"

"Sit down.  Understand, little ones," Lydia said.  "No one knows where you are.  No one even knows yet, that you are missing.  Anything can happen to you here, and will."

"You're going to kill us?" one of the girls whimpered.  

"No," Lydia sighed.  She could not be that cruel.  "Nothing that easy," she added.

"Why?" Yusuf was angry now.  "Why?"

"Why? Why?  To please your priests.  To please my superiors.  Why is none of your concern," Lydia said.  "Better to concentrate on the what and how.  This is going to be," she paused, and hissed, "the worst night of your life.  At least so far.  But it will be easier on you if you do exactly as I say.  It will be faster, less painful, if you cooperate.  Do you understand?"  That was, in a way, the truth. 

The students nodded.

"All right," Lydia said.  One of the closet doors opened, revealing a set of cubby-holes with shelves and pegs.  "Put your clothes in there," she said.  The room was chilly, and they were already shivering.  But they obeyed without question.  Just a bunch of little kids, Lydia fretted to herself.  Some of the girls had the faintest hint of breasts.  No other sign of puberty on any of them.  No shyness, either.  They were used to being around each other naked.  Maybe they really had been practicing.  Nothing, though, could prepare them for what was about to happen.

"Yusuf," she said.  "You're in charge.  Put them in the shackles."

Some of the closet doors opened to reveal restraints, different in design from the ones used at the school.  The usual ones forced a kneeling position, but these were upright, clamping arms spread above, legs spread below.  They were arranged in a semicircle so that they could see each other.  The anticipation, the horror of seeing what had happened to another, what was going to happen to you, was part of her plan.

"How do they work?" Yusuf asked.  Everything in the school was new and clean, but these were ancient, rusted, encrusted with a layer of something, probably, he thought, gagging, dried blood.  Just the sight of them created a sense of doom that had all of them shivering a little more.

"You have them step in and clamp their ankles," Lydia said.  "Now pull down the wrist straps.  Yes, like that."  He strapped in one of the girls.  "Now tighten," Lydia said.  Yusuf turned a crank that spread legs and raised arms.  The usual restraints were padded, actually designed for comfort, but these clamps were rough metal that bit into the flesh.

The poor girl's skin was already starting to chafe as she struggled to find a more comfortable position.

"It will be okay," he whispered, kissing her.  Emil strapped in Amelia, and two of the others, reassuring each of them in turn.  In a few minutes, they were all strapped in except for Yusuf and Emil.  Yusuf strapped in Emil, then, sighing, let Lydia restrain him.  

"What happens now?" Yusuf said.

"Isn't it little late too ask?" Lydia sneered.  The hard part, the risky part, was over, she told herself.  They were helpless now.  All she needed to do now was to go through with the plan.  She took out an aerosol can and began to spray it around their faces.  

"What's that?" a girl asked.

"What does it look like, dearest?" Lydia said.  

"Air freshener?" the girl said.

"No," Lydia could not help laughing, "it's a drug, stupid."

"A drug?" the girl said.  "You're going to drug us?"

"That's the idea, sweetie," Lydia simpered, and she gave the offensive little twerp an extra shot of the spray.

"Will it make it hurt less?" the girl asked hopefully.

Lydia shook her head.  This was a special drug, one from her home planet.  It would heighten their senses, increase their anxiety, erode their self control.  But it would also dull their memories.  It took about thirty seconds to take effect, but after that all of them were shivering, not only from the cold.  Of course, she had breathed in some of it herself, she could feel it hitting her, but she knew what it was, she knew what it was doing.  She had no reason to be nervous.  She was the one in control.  She went around the half ring of squirming, naked little bodies, tightening each restraint until the child was forced to stand on tip toe to keep the wrist clamps from biting in.  Not enough to really hurt yet, but enough to make them worry.

"I need the bathroom," one of the boys whimpered.  It was obvious that he had been struggling for awhile, and the drug and the pain from the clamps had removed the last hope of self control.  Yes, all of them would have bursting bladders, fiery guts, as their bodies betrayed them.  She could feel her own belly aching.  But she knew that she would be finished soon.  She wasn't going to give the others that hope.

"Too bad," Lydia scolded.  "You'll just have to wait.  This is going to take a while.  Quite a while," she added ominously.  There was a look of despair and resignation on all their faces now.  No good, not good enough.  Some of them still thought they were going to tough it out.  Goddess, she thought to herself, I cannot go through with this.  I cannot, I will not, I must not.  But her instructions were clear.  Make it look real, she told herself.  Real terror, real screams, real pain.  So far, they were not convinced, not all of them.  It was time for the next step. 

She took out a whisk, one used for the punishment sessions.  She herself was a master of the whisk, she knew how to make it bring intense pleasure, followed, usually, by several days of severe discomfort.  But that was not her intention now.  She had brought a large briefcase into the room now.  She opened it to reveal a vial of green, iridescent fluid.  The mere sight of it was enough to produce a few gasps.

"What is that?" some of them asked.

"Acid!" another said, "it's acid!  She's going to burn us with acid!"

"Good guess," Lydia snarled.  It was close enough to the truth to terrify them.  In reality, it was an artificial venom, something that was very rare, very hard to find, very illegal.  She dipped the whisk into the vial.  Each tendril now was like a sting from a jellyfish, extremely painful, causing a severe allergic reaction.  Close enough to an acid burn to be convincing.  The only difference, one that they would not, could not, know about, was that it was very temporary, fading to nothing in no more than ten minutes.  She could not resist trying it on her own leg.  Even a gentle touch was enough to make her yelp in surprise.  

"All right," she said, "who wants to be first?"  Terror, that was what she wanted, total, abject terror.  As little actual pain as possible, she told herself, keep yourself under control.  You don't really want to hurt them.  One of the boys whimpered, and she slammed the whisk against his buttocks, once, twice, until he was screaming.

"You bitch!" Yusuf snarled, "you sadistic fucking bitch!  There was no need for that!"

"Shut the fuck up!" she snarled, and she lashed him across the mouth, cutting his lips.

There was a collective shriek of horror from the others, as his face began to swell, and that set her off into a sudden, unexpected rage.  In a minute or so of frenzied activity she had lashed all of them systematically, three times each.  The drug had removed any hint of self control or bravado.  Even Yusuf and Emil were in tears.  The floor was covered with blood and excrement, and Lydia herself was kneeling in it, retching and sobbing.

So fast, so quickly, she had fallen over the edge.  Goddess help me, she thought.  This has to stop.  She knew that it had to stop now.  But instead, she drew herself up again.  Where was the girl who had thrust out incipient breasts?  She laid the lash on each nipple, and the girl's screams were echoed by the others.  The boy across from her, gaping in sympathy and horror ??" she lashed him underhanded, between his legs, the tendrils grabbing his balls.  "It's going to happen to all of you," she said.  "Who wants to be next?"

No one volunteered, and she picked a girl at random, then a boy.  Wait then, let them think about it, then, a third pair.  Only four left, who would be next, she could feel the terror building in them, but, incredibly, she beat the first poor girl again, just to let them know they weren't safe, it wasn't over, then in a frenzy she went around the room again, this time giving each girl two lashes on her groin, each boy two on his chest, to achieve a perfect symmetry of pain.  They were whimpering now.  They had gone past terror into dull resignation.  Too much, she fretted, she had gone too far.  It was over, all over.  Time now, for the final step in their degradation.  She took out a hose, and washed them down with icy water, washed down the floor.  Grimly, she thought of turning the hose on herself, in hope of some expiation.  But nothing could wash away the horror of what she had done.  Even without it, she was shivering now, as much as they were.  Leave now, she told herself.  You've done what you needed to do.  More than what was needed.

"Any more questions?" she snapped.  There was no answer.  They were arranged so that they could not see the door.  She opened it, stepped through the hologram of starry space, and into the basement corridor.  Frank was waiting for her, naked except for huge black leather boots.

"They're ready," she said.  "Just as we agreed."  That wasn't quite true, but he would never know the difference.

"You're sure that we can get away with this?" Frank fretted.  He didn't look ready himself, not at all.  You couldn't even find his prick beneath his hairy pot belly.  She reached contemptuously for where it might be hiding, and found only loose, soft flesh.  Was she going to have to provide him with some artificial bravado?

"Of course we can, as you phrase it, get away with it." she snorted.  "Assuming you can muster up the ability to do your part.  I have clearance from the highest levels of my Order and the transit authority.  It supersedes any local objections."  I'm just following my instructions, she told herself.  It's all for the greater good.  "It's for the best," she said, "for the best.  We're saving lives."  She caught herself before she started to cry again.

"All right," Frank said.  "My guys are ready."

"Your guys?" Lydia said.  "What guys?  That wasn't what we agreed to.  You told me you were going to take care of it."  

"By myself?  You don't think," Frank snorted, "that I would pay you that much money for myself?  That I'm going to pay that much for half an hour with twelve of them?"

"How many guys?" Lydia asked.  "What guys?"  Guys with erections, she thought fleetingly.  That would be useful.  She had a fleeting worry that she had set this all up for nothing, that the students were just going to hang there waiting for something to happen.

"Just go on down the hall," Frank said.  "Come back in an hour."

"Half an hour," she snapped.  "That's what we agreed on."

"Forty five minutes," Frank said.  "Give me time to clean things up."

"No damage," Lydia said.  "You understand?  If you kill one of them, if you harm them permanently in any way ..."

"Get out," Frank said.  Then, grudgingly he added, "don't worry.  My guys know what they're doing.  They do this all the time."

"It's all recorded," Lydia said.  "Make it look real."

"Oh it's real," Frank chuckled.  "Tell you what, why don't you get in one of the shackles yourself?  Have a little fun."  But Lydia fled down the hall to the safety of the control room.  There were a dozen lenses trained on each student, hundreds of views to choose from, but she could not bring herself to activate the screens.  She did not dare to watch.  If she did, she would have to stop it, and she had to let it happen.  Later, something in her whispered, later, when it was over, when it was safe, she could savour it, savour each violation of flesh, each scream of pain and indignation.  But not now, not now.  Goddess, what was she doing, what had she done?  She had lashed them, she had hurt them, she had made them cry in pain, and she had enjoyed it.  She had enjoyed it!  The urge, the need to do it again was so overwhelming that it made it her shudder.  Goddess, what demon had she unleashed?  She buried her head in her hands, trying to cry, but not able to produce tears.

After a while, she dozed off, until the door opened startling her.  It was Mary.

"What's going on?" the abbess asked.  Lydia's dress was stained, her hair matted, her eyes bloodshot, her hands covered with dark splatters.  She stank of fear and lust and vomit.  She had not bothered to hose off her shoes, and they were encrusted in blood and shit.  "You're a mess." 

"Training.  See for yourself," Lydia said.  She was calm now, defiant.  She pushed a few buttons and some of the view screens lit up..

"Goddess," Mary said.  "Oh Goddess."  She slumped into a chair.

"It's what we need," Lydia said.  "You know it's what we needed to do."

"It's too traumatic," Mary said.  Shock had drained her of all emotion.  She was studying the proceedings with clinical detachment.  Five men, twelve children, all of whom had been quite roughly and systematically violated.  Most of them were bleeding.  Well, the salve could fix that.  But the men were still going at it, and the novices were screaming.  "We should stop it," Mary said.

"No," Lydia answered, checking her watch.  "Ten more minutes."

"They're terrified," Mary said. 

"Of course they are," Lydia said.  "It's what we needed, isn't it?"  Mary nodded mutely.

"You didn't get my clearance," Mary said, after a long pause.

"I didn't need your clearance," Lydia snapped.  "I have orders from the Prelature."  Mary nodded again in resignation.  "You didn't have the stomach for it," Lydia added.  "You were the wrong person to handle it.  They got tired of waiting.  Time had run out.  They couldn't stall any longer."

Lydia turned off the screens.  They were too much of a distraction.  "Look," she said, "don't you understand how important this is?  We have been trying to get influence on Nirvana for a long time.  If we lose credibility now, we may never get another chance.  They trusted you."

Mary nodded.  "The students, yes, they trusted me.  Now look at them."  

"Not the students!  The hierarchy!  They trusted you!  You were going to be promoted, do you understand that?  Everyone thought you were going to be important.  Now!"

"Now what?" Mary asked.

"You'll be lucky if they let you keep this school."  Lydia had found a new outlet for her fury.  "You had time to handle this, you let it fester."  Now look at what you've made me do, she thought to herself.  It was Mary's fault, her fault.

"Did it have to be so, so," Mary sighed.  "So brutal?"  She turned the screens back on.

"It had to be convincing.  It's not as bad as it looks," Lydia said.  "I gave them an injection of anxethon, just to make sure they couldn't brave it out."

"Anxethon?"  Mary's eyes widened.  "Where did you get it?"  The drug was highly illegal.  "We signed an agreement never to use it at this school.  If the transit authority ever suspected ..."

"It was approved," Lydia said, "at the highest level.  It's just the thing to make them scream for a while and shake it off.  You'll see.  Tomorrow they'll think this was a wonderful practical joke."

"I hope you're right," Mary sighed.  She was watching the monitors with increasing fascination.  "Goddess!" she whispered.  The screen in front of her was aimed at one of the boys.  There were still traces of welts on his buttocks, but they were fading.  A man came up to him, thrust into him without resistance.  "Goddess!" she whispered again, remembering the night with Laura, when they had taken turns being men.  She remembered how hot Laura's bowels had felt as she penetrated her, how smooth.  She was standing behind Lydia now, grasping her shoulders, fingernails biting in so hard that they were drawing blood.  "Goddess!" she whispered again.  

The man was moving slowly now, almost gently, savouring each stroke, and the boy was getting hard, little penis flopping around forlornly.  The man reached forward to grasp it, and the boy snarled out something, but the man kept his hold, and the boy began to shudder.

"He's coming," Mary breathed.  

"They'll all come," Lydia said, "if the guys do their job right."  The second stage of the drug released a flood of serotonin, replacing anxiety with an intense desire.  She felt it herself, she was trembling at Mary's touch.  She pulled those hands from shoulders to breasts.  "They'll remember this as something pleasant," she said, "something that they want to do again."

"Goddess," Mary said, "what have you done to them?"

"It was what we needed," Lydia said.  "You should thank me."  Make me come, she was pleading silently, but Mary turned away, slumping into a chair, refusing to look at the screens.