



     I'm sure that you're sick and tired of all these little
notices authors of S&M and sex stories have been putting at the top
of their files. But just in case you aren't, here's another one:




                  WARNING!  WARNING!  WARNING!

         THIS STORY CONTAINS S&M AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX
        IF YOU DON"T LIKE THIS SHIT, THEN DON'T READ IT!

                         END OF WARNING                           Nola41.txt
                                
                            "The Law"
                         "By Curt Strap"

                            PROLOGUE

     Eight year old Nola closed her eyes, trying to lie still. Her
sheets were moist from the humidity outside and her sweat. The
rotating fan added nothing except to blow the hot air around and
add a hum to the room. The drone did nothing to drown out her
mother's whimpers in the next room and the groans of the...two?
...three?...men in there with her.
     She turned to face the wall. There was a long crack there, and
she tried to concentrate on that, tracing the way down from about
midway up the wall to her bed. She slipped her hands over her ears
so she wouldn't hear her mother and those guys she brought home.
     She sat up in bed as the squeaking mattress springs and the
cries in the next room reached a crescendo. She tried not to think
about the sounds coming through the wall. She was almost sick.
     As far back as she could remember, men had abused her mother.
More than once she'd had seen the bruises, cuts and burns her
mother had to show for "falling in love" again. 
     And Nola had always been the one left to clean up the mess
after the men had left. Many times when she cleaned the bedroom she
saw the rope and her father's old razor strop under the bed. Those
things were the "persuaders", her mother said, for when she didn't
want to do some things with the men she brought home. 
     Nola didn't understand.     "Come over and sleep at our house tomorrow," Jeremy said,
carefully choosing his words. "Then you'll see something!"
     "See what?"
     "What happens if you stories about Jenny."
     "Tell me now!"
     "We all get to be in on it next time. Dad says we can play
"horsey" too!" He didn't say anything else.
     Actually it was intriguing. Jenny was Nola's cousin. She was
thirteen, Nola was eleven. Jenny had told her that she got punished
if she was bad. But that didn't strike Nola as too odd. Nola knew
that the her uncle was really strict, especially with Jenny. 
     "Well, in that case, I guess I'll just have to, then, won't
I?" Nola said, grinning.
     Jeremy laughed.
                              * * *
     Nola walked to her uncle's farm.
     She felt a little shy, a little awkward about going there
today and that was pretty unusual for the devious little eleven
year old girl. But she had to find out what Jeremy was talking
about.
     Jenny lived on a farm with a big barn. Mr. Millar was big and
fat with bad teeth and foul breath. He always wore plaid shirts
that never covered his flabby, hairy belly and old corduroy pants.
Mrs. Millar was thin, with big breasts, pug-nosed and pretty. They
had three boys besides Jenny.
     Nola found eight year old Jeremy squatting out by the woods
next to the pig pen, squinting into the morning sunlight, surveying
the trees. He was already filthy, streaked with sweat and mud. It
looked like he had been crawling on his belly in the pig pen.
Jeremy was wearing a ragged old pair of shorts and nothing else. 
     He was looking at the tent worms. 
     That didn't surprise Nola. Everyone knew that Jeremy's thing
was insects, snakes, spiders, thousand-leggers and slimy slugs.
Nola watched his eyes. They were wet and bulging. Somehow like
creepy spiders. Spiders gave her goose-bumps, and nauseated her.
     The worms seemed to happen practically overnight. One day the
trees were clean and normal and the next day they were hung with
heavy, white pouches of webbing. The bottom of the bags contained
something vaguely dark and unhealthy-looking. And if you looked
closely enough there was movement.
     "Dad told me to take care of them or they'll strip the trees!"
     He led Nola to a birch tree and pointed up. 
     The nest was a big one, wide and deep. Under the tree was a
huge red ant hill. Hundreds, thousands of them crawled around.
     Nola had never been fond of ants. She could smell their iodine
odour along with wet earth, grass, and, the smell from the pig pen.
     Jeremy looked at Nola's expression of disgust and grinned.
     "Indians used to stake out their captives spread-eagle over
ant hills and the squaws would poke them with burning sticks!"
     Nola shuddered. Jeremy laughed at her uneasiness.
     He picked up a stick wrapped in rags and soaked in
kerosene. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches.
"My God, Nola thought. "Uncle Scott trusts an eight year old with
a torch...and matches...?" 
     He lit the torch and held it a moment while the fire burned
down and it was safe to use. Just like he had done it many times
before. It was still a pretty good blaze, though.
     He held it six inches or so below the nest.
     The webbing began to melt.
     It didn't burn. It dissolved the way styrofoam does.
     Suddenly, writhing, wriggling bodies were tumbling out, fat,
greyish-white worms, some smoking and crackling.
     You could almost hear them scream. 
     Nola looked at Jeremy.
     He was wide-eyed, with a goofy smile like when he'd hang his
toy knights and soldiers from the mesh of the incinerator and watch
their arms and legs burn slowly, imagining God knows what, the
plastic dripping and sizzling, black smoke pluming up. 
     It was an image straight out of the horror comics the boys
read avidly. It was easy to imagine torchlight, strange instruments
and processions, braziers full of hot coals.
     There must have been hundreds in just that one nest. A layer
would burn through to expose another layer. They just kept falling
onto the ant nest. The ferocious red ants responded. The worms
began rolling and bucking as the ants discovered their soft
helpless flesh.
     "Sick, Jeremy!" Nola said. "That's really sick!"
     Jeremy's eyes were wild.
     Nola was disgusted. She'd never seen such slaughter. The worms
twisted and writhed. They wanted to live.
     "This...is kind of..." Her face was pale.
     "What?" said Jeremy, enjoying himself at Nola's expense.
"You're just squeamish!" He looked at her like she was a bug caught
in a spider's web.     Jenny was putting together a jigsaw puzzle on a kitchen table
while a bored Nola watched. There was a half-empty glass of milk
beside her. Her father and brothers were watching a video...some
horrible horror movie.
     Jenny was doing pretty well on the puzzle. She had more than
half of it done. There was only the sky and the river and some of
the trees left not. Nola sipped a Coke while she watched her fit a
piece into the sky. 
     Aunt Linda joined them. She was wearing short, tight shorts
and a skimpy halter top. It covered as much as a bikini would. Her
feet were bare.
     Nola seized the opportunity to tell a story about Jenny.
     "Too bad they caught you smoking behind the gym!"
     Jenny's face turned white. There was eerie quiet.
     "What did you say, Nola?" Aunt Linda asked, her face hard.
     "Nothing, Auntie, nothing!"
     "I heard what you said about Jenny being caught smoking."
     "Scott!" She stood up.
     "No, please, no," Jenny begged her mother. "Please don't..."
     "Scott?" she called again, louder this time.
     "Can't you see we're busy," he yelled.
     "Jenny got into trouble at school again today."
     There was a click and the TV went dark.
     Scott came into the room followed by the three boys. Their
eyes took in Linda's exposed flesh. Jeremy's eyes were riveted on
his mother. The sight of her breasts, bare along their tops, seemed
to suck his breath away. He stared at the smooth slopes, the valley
between them and felt an erection begin to push against his shorts.
Willie saw the way her white shorts were drawn taut against the
smooth curves of her buttocks. His throat tightened. His heart
pounded faster and he felt a tight pressure in his groin.
     "What happened this time?" he asked.
     "Nola said she caught smoking."
     "That so, Nola?"
     "I wasn't, just Jenny!"
     He smiled. "I'm not accusing you."
     "Question is," he said, taking another drag of the cigarette.
"Question is, what else have you been doing?"
     "Nothing." she sighed. "I didn't do anything else!"
     Scott nodded again. "Come here," he said.
     Jenny just sat there.
     "I said come over here."
     She didn't move.
     "You want to ride the rail, right now!" Scott ordered.
     "What?"
     Beside her, Jeremy began to giggle.
     "Out to the barn!"
     "Dad, Nola's here!"
     "Don't argue with me."
     "Dad, please...please...not now!"
     "Move it, girl!"
     "No!"
     "What's that? What'd you say?"
     "You don't have any right to..."
     "I have all the right in the world. Get out to the barn!"
     "No!"
     "I said now, Jenny!"
     "I won't!"
     "I'm telling you to."
     "I won't!"
     "Oh yes you will. If I have to get these boys to help!"
     Jason snorted, laughing. Willie was still standing in the
doorway. He looked excited. Jeremy was grinning.
     "Get out to the barn now!"
     Jenny looked her dad straight in the eye. She took a breath.
And for a moment she managed an adult, almost stunning dignity.
     "I told you, Dad," she said. "I said no, not ever again."
     No one said a word.
     They were astonished.
     They'd never seen anything like it before.
     Kids were powerless. By definition. Kids were supposed to
endure humiliation, or run away from it. No protests. You did not
simply stand there and calmly say no. The kids were still too young
for that. So that now it was pretty amazing.
     Scott smiled and stubbed out his cigarette in the cluttered
ashtray. And now it was his turn to stare Jenny down.
     It lasted a moment, the two of them facing each other.
     Then Jenny's composure shattered.
     "Please, Dad, not when Nola's here. Can't you wait?"
     Her hands were balled up into fists, white at the knuckles.
She stared at Nola, who stood with a thin smile on her face as she
watched the drama.
     Nola wondered how many other times this play had been acted
out. But in a way she was relieved. This was more like it. More
like what she was used to. Kids giving in to adults.
     Jenny reached out and grabbed Scott's arm. And it was like she
was a whole other girl now, scared, helpless, desperate.
     "I'm begging you!" she said.
     It was a terrible mistake.
     Scott turned and smacked her. He slapped her again as Jenny
backed away, and again as she stumbled, off balance, and fell to
her knees.
     "Willie? Jason?"
     Willie circled her. Jason looked confused.
     "Hold her!"
     Willie moved in and took her right arm. Jason took hold of her
left. She didn't resist.
     "Take her out to the barn!"
     And then Jenny did fight, trying to get to her feet, bucking
and rolling against them, but they had her tight. Willie was
enjoying himself, that was obvious. Jason looked excited.
     Jenny squirmed to her feet. Willie twisted her arm behind her
back and yanked it up. She yelled and doubled over and tried to
pull away, shaking her left arm hard to get it away from Jason in
a kind of simultaneous panic and she almost made it, she almost got
it free. Until Jason tightened his grip and yanked her left arm up.
     Then Scott stepped forward again.
     For an instant he just stood there, studying her, looking for
an opening. Then he jabbed her, in the stomach, with his fist.
     Jenny fell, choking, and gasping for breath. 
     "Shit," whispered Jeremy who was standing beside Nola.
     Willie looked at his father.
     "Well I guess she just won't do it," said Scott. "This girl
doesn't want to do anything I say!"
     Willie and Jason still had her arms. And now they started
twisting. She doubled over. Willie twisted harder. His brother did
the same. She jumped with the pain and gasped and shook her head.
     "Okay, boys, frog-march her to the barn. We got us some
correcting to do!"
     Willie and Jason worked hard on her arms. Jenny slumped
forward. She was crying.
     Nola eyes were riveted on Jenny.
                              * * *
     Willie and Jason led her outside, keeping both of her arms up
high so that she had to bend over. Jeremy led the way and Scott
followed. Nola lagged behind. They marched her to the barn. 
     She twisted and bucked, frightened, screaming. She was strong
but not as strong as the twins.
                              * * *
      "Get her out of that dress now! Unzip her, Willie," Scott
said. 
     "Me!"
     "Yeah!"
     Everyone was a little surprised. 
     He unzipped the dress carefully, pulling it away from her body
as though shy of touching her. His face was red. His fingers were
awkward. He was trembling. He slipped the dress off her shoulders.
     "Don't let them do this, please...please?" she cried.
     Scott smiled then nodded to Willie.
     Jenny closed her eyes and stood very still and rigid while
Willie took the short sleeves and dragged them down over her arms
to expose the white cotton bra she wore underneath the dress. 
     "The rest," said Jeremy, breathless.
     Willie tugged the dress down over her hips, down over her legs
to the floor. Jenny was wearing thin white panties. Her leg muscles
jerked and trembled.
     He stepped away from her again and looked at her.
     Everyone did.
     We'd seen Jenny in her two-piece bathing suit. But this was
different. A bra and panties were private girl-things and only
other girls were supposed to see them. The only other girl in the
barn was Nola.
     And Jenny's father was allowing this outrage, encouraging it.
     The boys were sweating. But Jenny was sweating more. Drops
dripped from her armpits, glistened in her navel, across her belly.
     Willie stepped forward. He slid the right strap of her bra off
her shoulder then the left. Jenny's breasts slid upward slightly,
straining to be free of the cups. Willie unsnapped it from the back
and let it fall from her body. Her breasts were bare.
     Jenny was sobbing.
     They were whiter than the rest of her body, pale and cute.
They shook with her crying. It was erotic. The nipples were pink
and long. Just like the women in Playboy.
     Willie knelt in front of her and reached up. Then his fingers
hooked into the panties and dragged them down over her hips, down
her legs. He took his time savouring the moment.
     A small triangle of pubic hair in which droplets of sweat
gleamed shocked the boys. They saw freckles on her upper thighs.
They saw the small fold of flesh half hidden between her legs. They
studied her. Her breasts, the hair between her legs, her shaking
belly, her heaving thighs, her cute ass.
     The room reeked of sex.
     Jenny's eyes were still shut tight. It was as though if she
couldn't see us then we couldn't see her.
     "Tie her over the rail," Scott said.
     Nola realized she was holding her breath. She was going to see
the infamous rail that so interested Jeremy.
     They led Jenny to a round wooden post fastened between two
pillars in one corner of the barn. Willie forced her to lean
forward over the waist-high, horizontal beam. She didn't resist and
Willie took her arms and tied her wrists to the bolts in the floor.
He did the same with her ankles. Everything was exposed to the
leering eyes.
     Jenny closed her eyes again. Only this time there were little
pools of wet around them. Tears streaked her face.
                              * * *
     They went at her fast, spanking her ass with no let-up while
she screamed and howled. They hit her hard, Willie and Jeremy
especially. Her crying and the sound of the searing belt coming
down filled the barn.
                              * * *
     The boys were really into it. Especially Willie. He was
passionate. It was hot in the barn and the sweat rolled off him,
streamed out of his red hair and down across his forehead. As usual
he had his shirt off showing off his gross body. The smell of his
sweat rolled off him too. He smelled salty and sticky-sweet, like
bad meat.
     Nola watched for a long time. Then she went back to the house
and sat with her aunt who was working on Jenny's puzzle. The
television was still silent. They could hear the crack of the belt
and the laughter and crying from the barn.
     They sat there saying nothing.
     Nola got herself a Coke from the fridge.
     Sounds of torment from the barn taunted Nola.
     "That bother you?" Linda asked.
     "Yes," Nola said. But she didn't say it as though it did. It
was just a fact of life.
     "A lot?"
     "Yeah!" Nola nodded. There was nothing much to say after that.
Nola watched and drank coke. Linda had the puzzle almost finished.
     "I can't make them stop, y'know?" her aunt said.
     "I know."
     Nola finished the coke.
     "I would if I could," Linda said.
     Nola wondered if it was true.
     And for the first time she looked at Nola, eyes thoughtful.
     "Course I would." She went back to the puzzle again, frowning.
     "Maybe they'll get tired," Nola said, realizing as soon as she
said it how lame that sounded. Linda didn't answer.
     But then the sounds did stop and they heard footsteps.
     It was the boys. They were flushed. Their shirts were off.
Willie's belly, a fat, dead-white ugly roll, rolled as he walked. 
     They ignored Nola and Linda and went to the refrigerator. They
opened Cokes.
     "You gotta really give it to her," Willie said to Jeremy. "She
ain't chicken, she can really take it!"
     Willie's voice was like ice.
     "Do you think we should bring something out for Dad?" Jeremy
asked his brother.
     "Yeah. I guess. But we got to wait. Dad wants to be alone with
her for a bit!"
     After about an hour, they took a beer from the refrigerator.
They started to walk back to the barn. We watched them disappear.
     "What about her boobs, want to whip them?" And then he said
something else but the sound of their footsteps drowned it out.
     Nola looked at her aunt. If she'd heard what Willie said she
gave no sign. She worked on the puzzle.
     Hands trembling, afraid to listen and just as scared not to,
Nola worked with her.
                              * * *
     "Why'd you tell on her?"
     "What?" Nola said.
     "Tell on Jenny. Set her up?"
     "I don't know.....!"
     "Sure you do. Tell me? Why?"
     "Jeremy....."
     "Oh, yes, dear sweet innocent Jeremy..." her voice trailed
off. "I should've guessed."
     "Well, if you liked the matinee you'll sure like the late
show!"
     "I don't understand..."
     "You will, Nola. I don't know what you know about sex. Not
much, I'll bet. There are some guys, and boys too, I guess, who
have special sexual needs. Scott is one of them. Sure, he gets off,
working Jenny's ass with the strap, but its only the beginning. He
needs more. Much more. First it was twins who got it, then Jeremy.
I was the one who worked on him while Scott and the twins watched
and got...well...got...turned on, if you know what I mean."
     Nola didn't know what to say. She remembered her mother...and
thought about telling her about this...She couldn't imagine her
mother naked with a bunch of little boys...or could she???...
     "They'll take me out there next. And it won't be pretty. I
hope you hadn't planned on getting much sleep tonight. The boys'
haven't seen me all bare yet but you saw how their eyes took in
everything!"
     Nola just stared at her fascinated by her comments. 
     Linda's stomach hurt. She felt like curling up and hugging her
belly, and shutting her eyes tightly. She wanted to close out
everything-the whole cruel world.
     "And it won't be the strap. You ever see what a cane or some
supple switches can do....No, I guess you haven't...but you will.."
                              * * *
     Mrs. Millar had almost finished the puzzle when she heard
footsteps behind her. The four of them were behind her. Scott was
holding a rope. He made a loop at one end of the rope and dropped
it around her neck.
     "Time to play horsey!" Scott said. "Give little Nola a real
good show!"
     He handed the rope to Jeremy. He jerked the rope, yanking her
off the chair. She fell to her knees.
     "Get on her back and ride her to the barn," Scott said.
     Jeremy got on her back and tugged the rope. She choked. Then
Scott grabbed the rope and pulled her toward the door. 
     "Walk," he said.
     Willie left the room first. Jason walked behind Nola. Scott
kept the rope taut. When she didn't walk fast enough, the rope
jerked her forward. 
     On her hands and knees, urged by Jeremy's feet prodding her
sides and Scott tugging on the rope, she crawled to the barn.
     She tried to think but she couldn't concentrate. Her mind
seemed blurry. Here arms were no longer numb. They hurt and
tingled.
                              * * *    FATHER SENTENCED FOR ABUSING DAUGHTER
             By Thomas Claridge
               Court Reporter

TECATE - A 40 year-old man who abused his
daughter was jailed for twenty-five years.
     Accepting the prosecutor's suggestion
that Scott Millar be sent to the penitentiary,
Judge Michael Moldaver of the Tecate Superior
Court described the case as one of the most
tragic he had encountered.
     "I have before me a man who physically,
sexually and psychologically abused his
daughter in ways that can only be described as
cruel, insensitive, inhuman, and indeed almost
unthinkable," he said.
     At the three-week jury trial, a witness,
Nola Augustine, testified that she was in the
Mitchell home on the night of May 30th and saw
an attack on the young girl.
     Defence lawyer Robert McGee said that in
his experience as a criminal lawyer and a
former prosecutor, "I have never dealt with a
case anything like this."
     Judge Moldaver said the jury's verdict
reflected a conclusion that the girl had
suffered many powerful emotions, including
fear, anger, rage and hostility that had been
building in her as a result of more than five
years of abuse and domination that she had
been forced to endure at the hands of her
father and brothers.
     The judge recalled evidence that Mr.
Millar had abused his wife and daughter
regularly beating them with a strap and cane.
     Describing the daughter has having been
"belittled, degraded and made to feel she was
a failure" by a father who also threatened to
expose their sexual activities, the judge
said, "the girl was afraid to tell anyone
about the abuse. Jenny Millar was a battered
and abused child who became caught up in a
love-hate relationship with her father from
which she could not extricate herself."
     Noting that Mr. Millar had refused
treatment, the judge imposed the maximum
sentence for the offenses.     The boys were delinquents, not criminals. Under the law they
were innocent by definition, not to be held accountable for their
acts, as though everybody under eighteen were unable to tell right
from wrong. Their names were never released to the press. They had
no criminal record and no publicity.            TECATE JUVENILE COURT

     Jason, Willie, and Jeremy went to
juvenile court and Nola testified. There was
no prosecutor and no defense attorney, just
the Honourable Judge Andrew Gold and a handful
of psychologists and social workers earnestly
discussing what to do with everybody. Even
from the beginning what to do was obvious.
They were placed in juvenile detention
centres-reform schools, until they turned
eighteen, the stiffest sentence you could get
in those days. At eighteen they were to be
released and their records destroyed               JENNY'S ORDEAL
    EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH JENNY MILLAR
              By Karin Anderson
               Crime Magazine

     "It's a long story. I was thirteen before
I got away from the farm. But I was determined
to get away, go to university and be a
teacher. I knew it would happen someday if
they didn't kill me first."
     "You thought they'd kill you?"
     "It's just a miracle they didn't."
     "God," Karin Anderson muttered.
     "They were madmen, crazy, probably
worse!"
     "What did they do to you?"
     "What didn't they?"
     "But you were only a kid."
     She shrugged. "That didn't stop them. But
they got a lot more...active...when I hit nine
or ten. And then when I started to get
breasts...It wouldn't have been so bad...I
guess, but they had to always be hurting me.
Not because they were angry, either. 
They did it for kicks. It...turned them on.
They'd get my clothes off and tie me up.
Sometimes, they used handcuffs. They'd do
things like hang me by my wrists from a tree
limb or whatever else was handy or make me
'ride the rail' and whip me with their belts
or switches...God, I've been whipped with just
about everything you can imagine. When they
weren't doing that, they'd use other things on
me, or...anyway, they'd get themselves worked
up into a frenzy by torturing me, and then
they'd...you know, rape me."
     Karin felt as if her mind had been
stunned. Men had done those things? To Jenny?
To the girl sitting right here beside her?
     She frowned at her. "They really did that
stuff?"
     "Yeah. It wasn't just to me, either. Mom
got it and plenty of times, they got
strangers. They'd give a ride to a hitch-
hiker, maybe, and then she'd be the one they
used. Sometimes, they'd even run a car off the
road if there was a woman in it."
     "My God," Karin muttered.
     "I guess some of them must've ended up
dead. But I never saw anyone get killed. I'd
go into the house and hide while they did the
stuff they liked. And I'd hear the woman's
screams. And them laughing and squealing and
having a great time. And I'd be glad it was
her and not me." 
     "It's...terrible. How could people get
away with stuff like that?"
     "We were miles away from town. I guess
the cops never even realized anyone was
missing and I couldn't tell. They said they'd
kill my mom."
     "Why didn't you and your mom get away?"
     "I don't know how Mom got mixed up with
Scott. Maybe she didn't have a choice. That's
what I like to think, that he took her
prisoner or something and she couldn't get
away from him. But they got married. At least
I think they did. I don't know why she'd do
something like that unless he forced her into
it. Unless Mom was some kind of an awful
person and she actually loved him. I hate to
think she was that way, though. Besides, she
had to 'play horsey'!"
     "Maybe she would've gotten me away from
them. Or maybe not. Maybe she just let it all
happen, anyway. I guess I'll never know."
     "How did you get away?" Ken asked.
     "It was when I was thirteen. They stopped
to pick up this hitch-hiker. She was just
fifteen or sixteen, I guess. Anyway, she was
about to get into our van. I just couldn't
stand the whole thing anymore. So I yelled and
warned her and she ran off. She got away. So
they took me to the barn. They spent...I don't
know, hours...working on me. When I woke up I
stumbled out to the road and some people
picked me up. I spent time in the hospital."
     "Did you tell the police about it?"
     "Most, I guess. Then there was the trial
and everything. And Nola testified for me."            BUST NETS 15 STUDENTS

TECATE - Fifteen junior high school students
were busted yesterday after a three-month drug
probe involving an undercover officer posing
as a student.
     Twenty police officers moved in on the
school at 8:30 a.m. to make the arrests.
     "The students arrested were identified as
consumers and traffickers," said Sgt. Nola
Augustine. "They were dealing in hashish."
     The operation began March 7 with a female
officer enroling as a student at the school.
     The students, aged 14 to 18, were charged
with a total of 40 counts relating to
trafficking and possession of drugs.                            Chapter 1

     After dinner at the exclusive Crow's Nest Country Club, Nola
was presented with the prestigious Executive Merit Award. After her
well-rehearsed and professionally delivered acceptance speech, she
finished a second bottle of champagne, discreetly sharing the
expensive wine with her twelve-year old daughter, Tashia.
     The influential and distinguished guests shared polite after
dinner conversation until one A.M. It was nearly two before Nola
and Tashia were able to load their suitcases in the new car. The
luggage included a special locked briefcase.
     They had planned a one month summer vacation at a secluded
cabin in the rugged canyon area. The intent of the vacation was to
engage in some intensive mother-daughter bonding in a primitive
setting. At least, that's what they told their friends. In fact,
they planned to purchase two first class tickets from their secret
horde of cash for an executive world tour.
                              * * *
     Nola was the city's deputy police chief. She was well known
and respected for her zeal to rid the community of the degenerate
scum that preyed on the helpless, addicting them to the evil vices
of the world. She had received dozens of civic awards and
commendations for her outstanding achievements in crime detection
and prevention during her fifteen-year career. And it was almost
certain that she would succeed police chief Jack Daly when he
retired in October. She was already a member of the Police Board
and was a deaconess in the city's largest church, the
fundamentalist Church of God that promoted law and order even if
civil liberties were violated. The Mayor and the Police Chief were
elders of the same church.
     Nola profited, in secret, from the sale of smuggled liquor,
cigarettes and drugs. She took a fee, modest, of course, from
Johnny Colombo in return for information about police patrols and
investigations into smuggling activities. In addition, not all the
goods seized from Colombo's competitors during routine police
patrols reached the evidence lockup.
     Although Tashia attended an elite and fashionable private
young women's academy, she sold the marijuana and hashish that Nola
skimmed from the lockup to grade five and six students at the
Junior High School.
     And so what if the shit dear little Tashia peddled seemed to
cause social problems. It was not their fault that eleven-year old
Laura Austin was found naked, wandering in the park, stoned on gin
and pot, a victim of a vicious beating and rape; or that twelve-
year old Tammy Bruce committed suicide in a violent rage induced by
an overdose of hashish; or that juvenile crimes of theft and
prostitution increased to pay for alcohol and drug dependencies.
     Deputy Chief Augustine promised to bring the criminals
responsible for the ruined lives before the courts and she hinted
that those responsible were part of organized crime.
     Nola and Tashia prospered.
                              * * *                                 Chapter 2

     "Mom,....." She hesitated. ".....I've gotta pee something
horrible."
     "What?"
     "It's all I can do to hold it."
     Nola laughed.
     Tashia squirmed. Her hand came up in front of her face and
rubbed her ear.
     "It's not funny," she whispered.
     "I could use a pit-stop myself," Nola said. The car slowed,
glided to the right, and tipped slightly as one side dropped from
the pavement to the gravel. It slid forward, then stopped.
     Both doors of the Sundance swung open.
     Tashia climbed out. Then Nola was pulling her by the hand,
leading her in a rush toward the other side of the road.
     Still clutching her daughter's hand, she plunged through
undergrowth beyond the edge of the road. The nearest group of trees
was off to the left. She headed that way, running, Tashia racing
along at her side.
     Almost there. They leaped over a channel of tire ruts, each
landing with one foot on the centre rise and bounding over the
second rut. Then Nola released her hand. Tashia dashed to a nearby
tree and ducked behind its trunk. Not quite out of sight. The trunk
was narrow.
     Nola could see her right side, grey and flecked with
moonlight, as she yanked the sweatpants down to her ankles and
leaned back and sank to a squat. The trunk held up her windbreaker.
She glimpsed the pale curve of her hip, the side of her bare leg.
     When she heard her daughter's stream start splashing the
ground, she turned around, unzipped her jeans and lowered them,
squatted and began urinating. She finished, wiped herself with a
kleenex, stood up and pulled up her pants.
     Tashia was still going.
     "All done," she said finally. Nola heard her footsteps
approaching. "Boy, do I feel better."
     Nola patted her rear and grinned at her. "Good thing we
stopped when we did."
     "Just in the nick of time, I'd say."
     They turned toward each other. Nola wrapped her arms around
her. She hugged Tashia hard, kissed her forehead. She was
trembling. 
     "Cold?" Nola whispered.
     The image was so vivid it was a shock when she looked down at
Tashia. The girl clutched herself tightly. Her face was white and
pinched, the grey eyes huge.
     That look. She had it when she pleaded hysterically to have
the lights on at night. And she had it after the bad dreams and the
screaming spells. But not here, not now...
     "Tashia?" Nola cupped the pointed chin and tried to tip her
face, but her head was too rigid. "Tashia. What's the matter?"
     "Mom, the dark place." She stared past Nola with a peculiarly
fixed gaze. The darkness was cave-like, and for just an instant
Tashia knew it was the darkness that houses bats, ghoulies,
ghosties, long-legged beasties...and she knew something else lurked
there. Denizens of the other side. Things with sharp yellow teeth
and foul breath and...something feral and rotten.
     Nola drew a shaky breath.
     Tashia shrank away, looking totally betrayed and abandoned.
Then she willed herself to be calm. But pain stabbed at her temples
like a needle sharp splinter driven deep into the back of her eyes.
     "It's not so bad now. It's pretty late. What time is it?"
     Nola released her and stepped back. She fingered a button to
light the face of her wristwatch. "Three-fifteen."
     "We made pretty good time."
     "I guess we'd better go back to the car."
     "Guess so."
     She took a step toward the nearer rut of the tire tracks. She
walked down into the rut, then onto the higher ground of the centre
strip. Nola, staying at her side, strode along the worn path.
     "Do you like me tall?" Tashia asked. Her eyes were level with 
Nola's. Everything was normal again.
     "Different. But I wouldn't want anything changed about you."
     "Nothing?"
     "You're perfect just the way you are."
     "My boobs are too small."
     "They'll grow. You're still a little girl!"
     "Mom....!"
     Suddenly, "Weird!"
     "Weird?"
     Halting, Nola raised her hand and thrust it forward, pointing.
     "Look!"
     Tashia turned her head to the front.
     Not more than ten feet farther ahead, the tire tracks seemed
to end. Tashia hadn't paid much attention to them before, but she'd
thought they would lead back to the main road. Just at the edge of
the woods, however, a tangle of limbs and bushes blocked the way.
     "We can circle around," she said. She pulled Nola's hand, but
she resisted.
     "No. Wait. Don't you think this is strange?"
     Tashia shrugged.
     "Let's take a look." Releasing Tashia's hand, Nola rushed to
the obstruction. She crouched and tugged at a branch. It slid
toward her feet. Leaning forward, she lifted a small bush from the
pile. She tossed it aside.
     "What are you doing?"
     She stood up and faced her daughter. Her voice was hushed,
excited. "Somebody put this stuff her. To hide the way in."
     "So!"
     "Somebody took the trouble to hide this road."
     Nola turned her head. Tashia did the same. The pair of tracks
stretched away and faded into the darkness of the forest.
     "If we follow it far enough," Nola whispered, "I'll bet we'll
find something interesting!"                            Chapter 3

     "Shit, look at this." Crouching over the pile of limbs and
bushes, Nola lifted one end of a long two-by-four. Its length was
spiked with jutting nails. "Almost poked myself," she muttered.
     "Could've had the fun of a tetanus shot," Tashia said.
     Nola picked up the rest of the board, swung it around and
hurled it aside.
                              * * *
     When they finished clearing the barricade, Nola rubbed her
hands against the front of her sweatshirt and said, "Okay, let's
check it out."
     "What do you mean?" Tashia asked.
     "Take a little ride and see if we can find anything."
     "Now?"
     "No time like the present."
     "We can't do that," Tashia said.
     "Sure we can," Nola replied.
     "It won't take long."
     "We shouldn't do anything until we come back from vacation."
     Nola shrugged. "Another half hour or so isn't gonna make any
difference. It's the middle of the night. We've got lots of time
before we have to be at the airport."
     Turning around, they walked to the car.
     This is crazy, Tashia thought.
     They climbed into the car and Nola started the engine. 
     "I tell you what," Nola said. "We'll give it five or ten
minutes." She began pulling the car forward, swinging it into a
slow U-turn. "We'll just make a short run up that road and if we
don't find something quick, we'll head on into the city and come
back next month for a thorough search. How does that sound?"
     "Oh, I guess," Tashia muttered.
     The car rocked and bounced as Nola steered onto the dirt road.
"It's no big deal," she said. "Fifteen or twenty minutes, one way
or the other, won't make any difference to our vacation."
     Tashia shook and swayed with the rough motions of the car.
     We shouldn't be here, she thought. But she supposed that Nola
was right. A brief delay shouldn't matter much.
     But she didn't like this road.
     Not at all.
     Somebody had tried to conceal its entrance.  The barricade had
been their clue that somebody didn't want visitors. This is really
bad, she thought. Tashia was spooked.
     "It's been more that five minutes," Tashia said.
     "No place to turn around," Nola said. "I'm not about to back
all the way out to the road."
     A pretty lame excuse, Tashia thought. She could see through
the windshield. Though trees bordered the twin ruts, they were far
enough back for Nola to turn the car around if she wanted to.
     "We're not exactly hemmed in," Tashia said.
     "Just a little farther," Nola said. "Then we'll...damn!"
     Nola glimpsed a clearing ahead. Then the bright pale beams of
the headlights vanished as if sucked back into the car.
     Nola jammed on the brakes. The car lurched to a stop.
     "Holy shit," Tashia muttered.
     Nola saw it.
     An abandoned car with its left side in the bush.
     "What are you going to do," Tashia gasped.
     "Check it out. It's a hell of a place to leave a car." 
     She stopped in front of it. "I don't see anyone inside."
     Nola couldn't see anything through the dark windshield. But
she'd seen nobody during the moment her headlights had flooded the
car.
     "Wait here." She shifted to park and set the emergency brake
but kept the engine running. "Back in a second."
     "I'm coming with you."
     "Tashia!"
     She opened the door and got out.
     Nola flung her door wide. She called, "Just hold on and wait
for me."
     Tashia waited for her at the edge of the road, hunched over
slightly, arms hugging her chest.
     "It's warm in the car," Nola said.
     "I'm not gonna sit in there alone. In fact, I'm not so sure we
should've even stopped. I don't like this."
     Though the road was flecked with moonlight, none touched the
car.
     "Anybody there?" Nola called
     No answer.
     Side by side, they walked closer to the car. Nola realized she
was shaking. She felt a sudden rush of relief when she noticed the
car's lopsided position. "Its got a flat!"
     Tashia stayed behind Nola as she walked around the front
bumper, paused for a moment to look at the flat, then stepped up to
the driver's door. Its window was rolled up. Bending over, she
peered in. The interior was black. "Can't see a thing."
     "God, if there's someone inside there..."
     Nola stepped back and tried the door handle. It lifted. The
door was unlocked. She pulled it open. A loud buzz. She flinched.
Tashia gasped. But the dome light was on, the car empty. Leaning in
over the steering wheel, she saw that the key was in the ignition.
She plucked it out and the noise stopped.
     "Weird," Nola muttered. "Why would anyone go away and leave
the keys in the car?"
     "I don't know. Unless they just went off to take a leak, or
something. 
     I'm gonna honk the horn." Nola pressed the steering wheel's
hub. The horn blared through the night like the blast of an angry
bugler. she let it go on for a long time, paused to listen, then
gave the horn three short toots and another long one.
     Tashia tapped her back. "I think that's plenty."
     She stopped. The silence seemed oppressive. As if the noise of
the horn had deadened her ears in much the same way that a brief,
brilliant flood of light would've left her blind in the returning
darkness. She listened for sounds of footsteps in the woods beyond
the car. But she heard nothing at all.
     "I don't think anyone's around," she whispered.
     "It just doesn't make sense to leave your keys in the car and
go away."
     "I know. But everybody isn't sensible. Besides, remember that
the road was blocked." She sat down behind the steering wheel. As
she leaned sideways, reaching for the glove compartment, she
noticed a leather handbag on the floor. It was tucked in close to
the passenger seat. "A purse." she said.
     "You're kidding!"
     She picked it up and showed it to Tashia. She shook her head.
     "Should we see who it belongs to?"
     "It'll be pretty embarrassing if we're caught at it."
     "Well the horn didn't bring anyone running."
     "Go ahead," Tashia said. "I'll keep watch."
     She pulled the door toward her, leaving it ajar so the light
would stay on, then opened the purse. She glimpsed a billfold, a
checkbook, some tampons, a pack of chewing gum, a hair brush. She
removed only the billfold. She unsnapped it and flipped it open.
     The driver's licence had a photo of an attractive brunette who
appeared to be in her early twenties. "Linda Hawkins," she read.
     "You'd better put it away," Tashia said. She sounded nervous.
     "Just a second." She spread the bill compartment. A couple of
twenties, a ten, a few ones, and several credit cards. She pulled
out a Visa card. It was issued to Linda Hawkins. Nola stuck the
bills and the Visa card in her pocket along with the drivers
licence.
     "Think I could pass as Linda Hawkins, Tash? It'll help our
cash flow."
     Tashia just giggled.
     She returned the billfold to the purse, and wedged the purse
back into position where she'd found it.
     Taking the ignition key with her, she climbed out. She threw
the door shut and the car went dark.
     Tashia followed her to the trunk.
     She opened it. Darkness inside. Dim shapes. Bending over, she
searched with her hands. She felt suitcases, some smaller luggage,
and a spare tire. "There's a spare," she said.
     "Maybe it's no good."
     "Or Linda doesn't know how to change tires."
     Nola shut the trunk and turned to Tashia.
     "Can we go now?" her daughter asked.
     "I'm not sure. I need to think. Something's wrong here!"
     "I know, It's all pretty queer. But I'm freezing. What else
can we do?"
     "Search down the road a little more!" Nola said. "Maybe we'll
find another purse!" Nola smiled to herself. This was turning out
to be a real adventure. She knew that she could assume Linda's
identity for some free goodies.                            Chapter 4

     Nola saw it first.
     A cabin.
     She guessed it was a cabin. At the far end of the moonlit
field. Maybe a hundred yards away. But all she could see of it was
some rectangles that seemed to hover above the ground. Windows.
Faint, glowing patches of crimson. Apparently, the windows were
shrouded with red curtains.
     "Looks creepy," Tashia whispered. "Lets turn around and
leave."
     "No way." Nola said. "We can't quit now."
     "I don't know," Tashia muttered. "Looks like somebody might be
in there."
     "If it didn't have lights on, we couldn't have seen it.
They're on for us."
     "I really don't like this, mom!"
     "Don't be such a baby, Tashia. Look, let's just leave the car
and sneak up on the place. We'll check it out. We don't have to go
inside, but we've gotta a least take a closer look. I mean, maybe
there's some more goodies in there!"
     "I guess as long as we're careful," Tashia muttered.
     "Tashia, why don't you take care of the courtesy light? We
don't want it coming on when we open the doors."
     She reached up to the roof and tugged at the light's plastic
cover. One end snapped loose. Fumbling underneath it, she twisted
the bulb and plucked it free.
     "Got it." She stuffed the bulb into a pocket of her
sweatpants.
     "Let's go." Nola said.
     Both doors swung open. Climbing out, Tashia noticed the quiet
way Nola shut the driver's door. She shut her door gently, pushing
until it latched.
     We're scared shitless, Tashia thought.
     Tashia joined Nola at the rear of the car. Her keys jangled.
Finding the one she wanted, she bent over the trunk and slid it
into the lock.
     "What're you doing?" Tashia whispered.
     "Flashlights and weapons." Nola turned the key. A quiet sound.
The lid of the trunk slowly rose. She leaned into the darkness,
lifted a suitcase, turned around and offered it to Tashia.
     Tashia took it, stepped back and set it down at her feet.
     "Get your flashlight," Nola whispered, "but don't turn it on."
     Nola took out her revolver. Reaching behind her back, she
lifted her sweatshirt out of the way. Tashia saw a band of pale
skin above her belt as she shoved the barrel down the seat of her
pants.
     "I don't know about this," Tashia muttered.
     "What don't you know?" her mother asked.
     "Look how you're arming yourself. If it's going to be so
dangerous, shouldn't we forget about it?"
     "I'm just taking precautions. If I honestly believed we'd be
running into trouble, I wouldn't go anywhere near the cabin!"
     Tashia realized that her own right hand was deep in the pocket
of her sweatpants, fingering her Swiss Army knife.
     "Why don't you wait here?"
     "I go where you go."
     Nola led the way across the field. Tashia stayed close behind
her.
     Tashia shivered as she walked. She wished she'd had her coat.
The chilly breeze seemed to pass right through her top. She watched
the way it ruffled Nola's hair. Her hair looked silvery in the
moonlight. Her grey sweatshirt was pale.
     It's so damn bright out here, she thought. If somebody looks
out one of those windows... She could see it better now. Three
crimson windows. One glowed slightly brighter that the other two.
     It looked so forbidding. The whole field was bathed in milky
moonlight, but not the cabin. It was at the very edge of the
forest. Overhanging limbs shrouded its bulk with shadow. Except for
the red of its windows, the cabin looked even darker than the
woods.
     Somebody must live in it.
     What kind of person...
     A few strides from the side of the cabin, Nola and Tashia
halted. They stood motionless, staring up at the windows.
Listening.
     Gazing at the covered windows, Nola held her breath and
listened. She heard her own thudding heartbeat, cries of some
distant birds, the wind hissing through the forest, the whisper of
leaves rubbing against the roof of the cabin. But no sounds at all
seemed to be coming from inside.
     Somebody must be in there, Nola thought.
     Nola started forward. Tashia followed, close to her back. Nola
heard Tashia's shaky breathing behind her. They stopped at the rear
of the cabin. The windows were masked with red fabric, just like
all the others.
     Nola looked at Tashia, then turned away. Bending forward, she
peered around the corner. She eased back and faced Tashia. "The
door's open," she whispered.
     Tashia went cold and crawly inside. She felt her nipples
shrivel up tight. "I don't like it at all," Tashia said, her voice
low and shaky.
     "It'll make it easier for us," Nola whispered.
     "Shit," Tashia said. "Somebody's gotta be in there."
     "I'm not quitting now," Nola said. "Remember, I'm a cop.
Nobody will mess with me!"
     Nola reached under the back of her sweatshirt and pulled out
the revolver. "We'll just take it slow and easy. Any sign of
trouble, we'll get the hell out of here."
     "Here goes nothing," Nola said and stepped around the corner
of the cabin. Tashia went after her.
     The forest was just to the right, some of the trees almost
close enough to touch. If anything goes wrong, Tashia thought, we
can run in there. So dark. So many trees. Plenty of places to hide.
     Just this side of the door, Nola stopped. She stood up
straight and raised her left hand.
     Tashia halted.
     Nola moved into the light, turning toward the doorway. Then
she stepped into the cabin. As she disappeared out of sight, Tashia
entered the brightness and followed her mother. Nola had obviously
seen nothing alarming.
     Her mother was staring at something. Her lower lip was clamped
between her teeth. She met her daughter's eyes. Looking worried,
she lifted her gaze and peered into the semi-darkness beyond her
head.
     "What?" Tashia whispered.
     Nola shook her head, pressed a finger to her lips for silence,
then started walking. She was staring at something.
     Something on a bench near the window.
     Whatever it was, Tashia thought, it must not be any big deal.
Nola was just staring at it, not running away. She followed her.
     Not as cold as outside. But almost. And the air smelled bad.
Like a nasty bar, a dive. A mingling of stale smoke, sweat,
alcohol, urine and a legion of other foul aromas.
     Wrapped in a blanket was a woman. She was stretched out
motionless on a the bench. The blanket covered her from neck to
feet. Over her chest, it rose and fell slightly with the motions of
her breathing.
     Her brown hair was a tangled mess. Her face glowed bright red
as if she'd spent far too long in the sun. Her lips were dry and
cracked. A dark bruise smudged the left side of her jaw.
     In spite of her condition, Tashia could see that she was
pretty. And not very old. Probably in her early twenties.
     She wondered quickly if this was her home.
     And did she live here alone?
     Though she felt compelled to stare at her, Tashia forced
herself to turn away. She had the horrible thought that they had
found Linda Hawkins.
     A bench on the other side of the room was heaped with clutter;
grocery bags, crushed beer cans; a hubcap heaped with ashes and
dead cigarettes; packages of cookies and chips, some still unopened
and others crumpled; piles of rags and dirty clothes.
     "I'll check out the rest," Nola whispered.
     Tashia glanced at the woman. She still slept.
     Nola and Tashia made their way through the cabin. Near the
rear wall were three mattresses piled with blankets and clothes.
     Sleeping places for three more people.
     Where are they? Tashia wondered. What if they come back and
find us here? What if they're hiding, right now, just outside.
     She watched Nola pause, standing by one of the mattresses,
turning her head as she looked at the two nearby steamer trunks.
The tops of the trunks were littered with junk. On one was a
Coleman lantern, its twin mantels hissing, filling the cabin with
light.
     Nola moved on. She held the revolver ready to fire. She looked
from side to side, checking for movement or sound.
     At last she reached the back door. 
     Thank God, Tashia thought. Nothing.
     Nola turned to her daughter.
     "Anything?" Tashia whispered.
     Nola shook her head.
     "We oughta have a look in the trunks. Maybe there's..."
     "Mom, we've gotta get out of here." Tashia said. "Right now.
We've gotta take her with us."
     "What's the....?"
     "The stink of this place. The way it looks. And her." She
suddenly crouched, slapped a hand across the mouth of the sleeping
woman, and hurled the blanket away.
     The woman was naked. Her skin glowed scarlet as if she'd been
broiled all day by the sun. She was bruised, striped with welts,
seamed with shallow cuts from a knife blade. She had raw burns on
her shoulders and breasts and thighs. Her wrists were roped beneath
the bench, her ankles were bound together with rope. Under the
bench were half-used candles and matches, blackened toothpicks and
a weathered leather belt.
     Nola saw all this as the woman lurched awake, eyes springing
open. As she bucked, trying to sit up. As Tashia gasped, "Holy
shit!" As Nola groaned and muttered, "My God." As the woman pulled
her arms against the ropes. As she settled down and lay motionless
on the bench and glanced at the faces above her.
     "We're here to help you," Tashia said, and lifted her hand
away from the woman's mouth.
     "They hurt me!" she blurted. "They hurt me and they..."
     "Who?" Nola whispered.
     "An old man and three younger guys!"
     "Where are they?"
     "I don't know."
     "Let's get her and beat it." Tashia moaned.
     Nola pushed the gun into the waistband of her sweatpants and
slipped a hand under the back of the woman's neck. Tashia had her
knife out. Crouching, she began to saw through the ropes at her
wrists.
     A blast slammed Tashia's eardrums.
     Nola dropped to the ground, grabbed Tashia by the ankles and
pulled her to the floor. A roar thundered through the cabin. 
     Nola grabbed her revolver and aimed toward the three fat men
who rushed through the door with shotguns. 
     The men stopped and aimed shotguns at her head.
     "No!" Tashia shrieked.
     "Drop the gun! Or ..." the nasal voice gloated.
     Nola let go of her revolver.
     "Push it away from you with your fingers!"
     Stunned, she obeyed.
     An skinny stooped old man wearing only boxer shorts slipped
through the door and crept toward the captives. He was a shabby
spectre. He had lost all of the blubber and his once neatly-groomed
full beard was a tangled mess. Except for his bald head he was
furry with grey hair. His face was greasy with sweat and his eyes
were huge.
     Nola recognized him. 
     Although the years in prison had wasted him Nola recognized
Scott Millar. And Jason and Willie and Jeremy.
     And there was no doubt that they had recognized her as well.
     "So Nola, you finally came over to play 'ride the rail and
horsey'! And you brought a little girlie for me. You remembered!
Jeremy has a great rail over an ant hill waiting for you!"
                        (To be Continued)                   A Comment from the Author:

     The comments and suggestions posted by readers are what keep
the authors going. The same is true for me. I've got a general
direction I want to go with NOLA series from here, but that's all.
The door's wide open for specific scenes and characters. I'd love
for all you "Anons" out there to contribute your suggestions. If
nobody does, the NOLA series will probably go on anyway but the
more suggestions I get the better the product, I hope.

     Please post any comments to Leather Rose BBS (312-665-0111).
All new Nola files will be posted exclusively on LR BBS.

                         And a Question:

     Does anyone out there still like whips?  Or for that matter
canes, straps, paddles, tawses, martinets, cat-o'-nines, riding
crops, or even an occasional good old fashioned bundle of birch
switches? I haven't seen a good flagellation story in ages. What
ever happened to naughty young schoolgirls getting their asses
caned by lecherous old headmasters? I'm not talking about spanking
people. That's its own little club, and they mostly frown on us
hard core B&D and S&M freaks. I'm talking about the whip 'em till
they bleed world. Are any of us "flag" freaks still out there?  I
would like to hear from you.

Curt Strap 
August, 1994        Listing of the NOLA series as of 18 August 1994. 

If you have any suggested titles and scenarios let me know.

Nola1.txt      "The Beginning" (Nola's introduction to S&M) 
Nola2.txt      "The Chief of Police" (Nola on a Turkish Island)
Nola3.txt      "The Augustines" (family's introduction to S&M)
Nola4.txt      "The Reverend" 
Nola5.txt      "The Island" (Inspired by Mister Phil)
Nola6.txt      "Nola's Children"
Nola7.txt      "The Rape Photographer"
Nola8.txt      "The Porn Producers"
Nola9.txt      "The Nurse" (torture by Viet Cong,incomplete,ideas?)
Nola10.txt     "The Children At Play" AKA Children.zip 
Nola11.txt     "The Game" AKA Sarah.zip
Nola12.txt     "The Doctor" (limited distribution)
Nola13.txt     "The Farm" (limited distribution)
Nola14.txt     "The Model"
Nola15.txt     "Un-titled" (incomplete)
Nola16.txt     "Blackmailing Nola"
Nola17.txt     "The Spy"
Nola18.txt     "The Tudor" AKA Simone.zip
Nola19.txt     "The Inquisition" AKA Inquis.zip (Nola in 1492)
Nola20.txt     "The Cottage" (incomplete)
Nola21.txt     "The Convent"
Nola22.txt     "The Cop" AKA Karla.zip (incomplete)
Nola23.txt     "The Reporter"
Nola24.txt     "The Musician"
Nola25A.txt    "Nola and Tashia" (Nola humiliated by daughter) or
Nola25B.txt    "Nola and Jeremy" (Nola humiliated by son)(same sty)
               (The wonders of Wordperfect's search & replace)
Nola26.txt     "The Prison Matron" (limited distribution)
Nola27.txt     "The Complex"
Nola28.txt     "The Cruise" (includes Pamela1.zip to chap 7)
Nola29.txt     "The Scout Troop"
Nola30.txt     "Tashia"
Nola31.txt     "The Exhibitionist"
Nola32.txt     "The Asylum" (limited distribution)
Nola33.txt     "The Cellar"
Nola35.txt     "The Businesswoman" (Caught in a double-cross)
Nola36.txt     Un-named as of today
Nola37.txt     Un-named as of today
Nola38.txt     Un-named as of today
Nola39.txt     "The Terrorist"
Nola40.txt     "The Indians" (inspired by Mister Phil)
Nola41.txt     "The Law" (a shady policewoman gets hers)

There are lots more that haven't been edited yet.

Curt Strap  
August 18, 1994