Punitive damages Martin Kane A Delphi Agency tale: vengeance is a dish best served cold. Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ‘Mrs Stein, please come it. Sit down.’ Ms T led the middle-aged woman into her office and to a chair. She then sat herself behind her desk in an appropriately official manner. She had found that impressions were of the utmost importance and knew instinctively whether the client would be more comfortable in a more casual environment, sofa and armchairs, or the more office like set-up. Mrs Stein was wearing black immaculate, if sombre attire, complete right down to the veil on her hat. She removed the hat now and Ms T took it from her, placing it to one side of her expansive desk. ‘I was sorry to learn of your husband,’ she offered. ‘He was ill for a long time,’ Mrs Stein said, her voice remaining calm. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your husband spoke of you highly.’ They went through the standard pleasantries, Ms T recognising that her client was avoiding getting into the question on her mind. And so, eventually she asked. ‘What is it you wished to see me about today?’ Mrs Stein nodded, perhaps herself realising she’d been skirting the issue. ‘My husband used your services on many occasions whilst in business.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I don’t know if you’re aware that since taking over the running of his various operations, I’ve discovered a number of sidelines and avenues that, shall we say, held less legitimate holdings to his other, more promoted business ventures.’ Ms T nodded discreetly, she too was expert in euphemism when required. ‘That was probably the side of his operations that called most often upon our employment.’ ‘Quite. I should advise you now that all such operations are being phased out.’ Ms T nodded again. She had heard as much. ‘An unpopular move?’ she enquired lightly. It was only natural that she should be wondering what the woman wanted of her here today. Protection wasn’t their speciality but it was certainly something they were capable of providing. ‘Oh, on the contrary in fact. Moving to focus upon only the legalised areas of my husband’s empire makes space for those with certain ambitions to fulfil their own agendas. I dare say I’d only be at any risk should I attempt to succeed his position myself, and I’m hardly one to do so. No, my desire is to set the company straight and prepare for retirement.’ ‘I see.’ ‘However, I would call upon your services briefly. One last little favour, you could say. This is nothing to do with the business, it’s on more of a personal nature.’ She hesitated a little. Ms T offered her a drink but was declined. ‘Please,’ she prompted gently. ‘In your own time.’ ‘My husband was not an easy man to know. As is often the case in a large business of any nature, he was away a lot. Contributed with the fact that much of the time I was kept safe from potential rivals using me as a pawn. As you may well imagine, it can be a lonely life.’ Ms T began to read between the lines. She nodded sympathetically. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I loved my husband.’ ‘You have no need to justify yourself, you’re not being tried.’ ‘I’ll spare you the unpleasant details, it is suffice to say that, in the spirit of excitement and adventure, I have on occasion sought outside involvements to entertain an otherwise closeted lifestyle. It was one of these men I wish to discuss with you here today.’ Ms T was good at assessing people. Though she never jumped to conclusions or pre-judged any person or situation, she well understood and recognised common occurrences or personality types. Long experience had shown her the way certain scenarios tended to play themselves out. She could guess this one as well as any other. The sort of man that the sort of woman Mrs Stein, in that situation, would perhaps seek, would undoubtedly be of a certain character. Given the potential circumstance that could occur, such a man could be capable of behaviour that, though initially attractive in a dark and compulsive way, could well lead to less agreeable conduct. ‘Tell me,’ Ms T said contemplatively, ‘hypothetically speaking, what manner of recompense would you envision to one who has caused you a grievance?’ * * * Mrs Stein flicked through the photos as coldly and professionally as one choosing a particularly important purchase. She sipped at her coffee, her eyes skirting the form of the featured women. She glanced down at the brief profile notes concerning each. She paused briefly at one woman, a large physique dressed in skimpy purple. She shuddered in pleasurable abhorrence at the catalogue of atrocity of which the woman was both capable and responsible. Ms T noticed and took it from her. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. She’s not supposed to be in there.’ ‘Really? She seems perfect.’ ‘Quite probably,’ Ms T agreed. ‘But I’m afraid that’s Suzie. She’s out of the county at the moment.’ Mrs Stein nodded and carried on. Then she stopped, jaw dropping at the picture and the accompanying description. ‘Dear God, what a monster,’ she exclaimed, shuddering. ‘She’s perfect.’ * * * Frank noticed the woman heading towards him but paid her no mind. She was around her mid-twenties, long hair blowing in the breeze. She was dressed in a long coat, sides wrapped around her and held in place by a loosely tied belt. The first he knew of anything amiss was as they passed one another - or rather, as they should have passed one another. The woman side-stepped into his path. He stopped suddenly, about to yell, demand what the hell she thought she was doing. But the woman grabbed him, cupping her hand behind his head, the other bringing a cloth forward to smother over his face. He instinctively tried to back away but her hand holding his head was remarkably stable. He pushed her, shoving both hands up. One caught the cloth coming at his mouth, the other shoved unabashedly against her chest. He felt the squish of a firm bosom but pushed at her unabashed. She didn’t budge an inch, remaining as set as rock. He felt the unwavering flesh of a carved body. She was no more moveable than a stone pillar. The hand at the back of his head hardened, fingers clawing his skull, holding him tighter than he would have believed humanly possible. It felt as though she was about to crush his bone in her grip. He pushed at the cloth, trying to hold her from his mouth. However, her strength proved far in excess of his own. She easily planted the cloth over his mouth and nose and he tasted the foul, acrid penetration of ether. Flailing in panic, he shoved and punched at her wildly. The woman stood strong, unmoved by his struggles. He knocked her coat open exposing what she hid beneath. At first he thought she was naked, until he noticed the skimpy sports outfit, tiny shorts and bra-top in gaudy neon. But what really made him think of sportswomen was the musculature. She looked like one of those track athletes that he occasionally saw on the TV. Or rather, she looked like they would if they took all that hard toned muscle and exaggerated it a dozen times over. He realised how she was so powerful. She was a bodybuilder. It was the last thought to occur to him as he collapsed into her waiting arms. He felt muscles that he had never had dreamed feasible on a woman, bulging as she carried him. A van, doors open, was suddenly beside them. Through fading eyes he saw the world go dark as they were shut inside. He was dropped unceremoniously but barely felt it. A voice said, ‘let’s go.’ Another replied, ‘you got it babe.’ And then nothing. * * * Frank awoke with a foul scent crawling up his nostrils, poking up hard into his brain. He was conscious immediately, head sharp and painful. A woman in a long white coat stood before him. Was she a doctor? Was this a hospital? It took him a few moments to remember what had happened. It took him the same amount of time to realise that he was bound to the seat, his wrists tied together behind his back. His waist and ankles were strapped to the chair, keeping him in a sitting position. His mouth was gagged, forced open around some plastic tube strapped into his mouth. It penetrated his mouth, jamming the tongue down, forcing the jaws apart. Breathing was easy enough but it was highly unpleasant, making him gag. The woman smiled down at him pleasantly. She was extremely pretty, soft features and long blonde hair that was tied tight into a neat ponytail. Despite the fact her long coat was loose, he could tell she was stacked, a substantial chest thrusting against the starched white uniform. It sparked off all the nurse fantasies he favoured. But fear and apprehension undermined any cheap thrill the woman should have inspired. He had no idea what he was doing here but, given how he’d got here, he didn’t imagine it was a good thing. ‘You’re awake?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Good. I’ll start by explaining a few things. I don’t doubt you’re wondering what’s going on here. Well don’t worry. I promise you, everything will become clear if you’re just patient.’ He tried to protest, tried to escape. He made a hacking, gogging kind of sound, all that was capable of making. ‘Please, just remain calm,’ she told him. ‘I’m not going to release you, but I will explain everything if you’re good.’ He stopped struggling, realising, if nothing else, that his bindings were fast. ‘Good.’ She smiled again. So very pretty, so sweet. Yet still, something about her scared him. Not just the situation, that scared the shit out of him on its own. But the woman herself was a little unusual. There was something missing in those pretty eyes. Maybe it was just his fear, but he couldn’t quite place a nagging certainty that there was some essential spark of humanity that was just absent in her. ‘My name is Caitlin,’ she introduced. ‘Why you’re here will become clear shortly, but first there’s three things I need to show you. Before I do I want you to know that we have an audience.’ She gestured around the room. ‘All of these mirrors are two-way. This is an observation room and everything that goes on can be scrutinised in detail by those on the other side. You understand? Now we can’t see those people, the mirrors are for their anonymity, like a police line- up. Again, it will all become clear soon. The person in question will be revealed to you presently but they have requested to remain hidden until the moment is right. ‘One more thing that I have to tell you before we begin. This scenario has been designed especially with you in mind, custom built. It can be ended at any moment at the touch of a button. The one with that power is watching closely. They may halt the proceeding whenever they wish, should they choose to do so. ‘Now. Three things.’ And then she walked behind him and out of his field of vision. She returned pushing a large trolley in front of her. On it was huge television set, the kind that would cost a small fortune and be the prized possession of those few film-buffs that could afford it. She knelt down and plugged it into an electrical socket on the floor. Another lead carried the signal. She then twisted the locking mechanism of the trolley, fixing it securely to the floor. She tried moving the trolley but was satisfied it was secure. ‘I told you I was going to show you three things,’ she reminded him, turning her attention to Frank once more. ‘This is actually the second. The first is this.’ She held up the object before her. She held it lengthways, grasping each end lightly between thumb and forefinger. It was matt black, plastic. A cylinder or rod of some kind. It was a foot long and as thick his wrist. It looked like some kind of small baseball-bat. Caitlin smiled pleasantly and put the rod on top of the TV. ‘OK, number two,’ she told him. Then she walked away, behind him and out of view once more. The TV sparked into life immediately, a picture flicking up. Frank had his head turned, trying in vain to see if she was still there. ‘You’ll miss it,’ she told him, answering his doubt. The picture was amateurish, the sound muffled. It looked like a camcorder. It was footage of an autopsy. It took him a few moments to realise this, the actual corpse was just below the sight-line. All that could be seen was the doctor working away. He narrated his progress as he worked with various tools. It was curiously mundane, the man working with diligent professionalism, meticulously making his way through set procedures of examination and taking record. Frank watched with some genuine curiosity, despite his own predicament. It was the morbid human desire to know. He had a long wait to find out however, the doctor reporting time and again how each and every test revealed a perfectly healthy corpse. Eventually, patience was rewarded and the doctor reported tearing of flesh and muscle. Excessive trauma, evidence of severe lacerations. Bruising and contusion. Splits and ripping of the meat, having been violently ruptured. Caitlin returned to switch off the TV just as the doctor described the victim’s anus as "completely destroyed". She smiled again and again he felt that same chill. His mind had done the appropriate maths and he was struggling wildly against his restraints. ‘That was the second thing I have to show you,’ she said calmly, completely ignoring his futile attempts to break free. ‘Before I show you the third, it’s time to reveal the one responsible for your current position.’ He was howling into the gag, trying to scream out fearful and furious obscenities. It was impossible to speak however, impossible to make any articulate sound. Caitlin held his head, digging amazingly hard fingers into his jaw to hold him steady. She lifted his chin up, forcing his head back. ‘Look at me,’ she told him calmly. He did so, quietening again. She released him and took a step back. ‘OK. In case you haven’t already guessed, the woman who arranged for all this, who hired us in order to carry out this entire charade, and, the only one with the power to call a halt to your execution, is Helen Stein.’ It didn’t appear to be any surprise to him. Surely there can’t be that many women he’d wronged with the resources to arrange something like this. ‘I’ve read the file,’ she told him. ‘Between you and me, I honestly don’t think she’s gonna call a stay of execution. You aren’t leaving this room alive.’ He began to whimper here, his head dropping down in despair. ‘Look at me,’ Caitlin commanded again. Wearily, he complied, lifting his head slowly to look again at the blonde woman. ‘I have one last thing to show you before we commence,’ she said, pulling the tie from her hair and shaking the lush blonde mane free. She stroked her hands down the length of her lush body, taking seductive, teasing time over the huge mounds of her jutting breasts. Then she pulled open the coat, ripping it free from her body and casting it aside. Despite his fear, he felt the desired shock response upon seeing her body. Caitlin was a bodybuilder, muscles huge and rippling over her entire body. She stood before him completely naked, exposed, but it wasn’t tits and cunt that commanded his shocked eyes, it was the massive bulging development of pure excessive bulk. Nothing in his life had prepared him for such a sight. He had heard of bodybuilders of course but to have the stark, tangible reality thrust in his face in such unapologetic and flagrant hostility was more than he could stand. He gasped and wrenched his head away, not wanting to see the physique that would be used to destroy him. He bucked and ripped at his bindings again but the were as fast as ever and he had no hope of breaking free. He looked back up at the monster freak before him. She had lifted the huge television set above her head, the power to do so evident in her thick, hard arms. The leads hung loose, yanked free of the sockets. Frank thought for a moment she was going to throw it down upon him and winced instinctively. However, when she threw it, the huge piece of equipment sailed cleanly over his head, though he felt the wind of it pass above him. He heard it crash behind him, smash in an almighty explosion of damage. He looked at the woman, the fearsome and lethal beast. She flexed her arms, showing him muscles that were unreal in their excessive size and density. He was witnessing a sight he would never have believed if he’d heard it second hand. Then he saw something that brought him out of his shock and re-sparked the terror once more. In her left hand she held the black rod she’d initially shown him. She also held a small strap-like construction. She quickly rigged it up, trying it in place about her waist and between her legs. It looked like some obscene piece of fetish underwear. Then she jammed the rod in place. She caressed the organ as though it were really apart of her. Given the shudder she made as she manipulated the huge rod, its effect against her was suitably close to genuine. Then she turned to face him head on, her muscles throbbing in apprehension. It was a sight he knew would haunt him until the day he died. And then he remembered that they intended to kill him anyway. She closed on him and he screamed, or as close as was possible in the gag. Caitlin reached down to his waist and ripped off the strap holding him into the chair. She leant down and repeated the act to free him from the leg straps. Then she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him up and over to where the trolley was still fixed to the ground before him. He hit it with his stomach, his hands still bound behind him. He folded forward, winded against the edge. Caitlin grabbed him from behind, pressing him down hard against the trolley. He felt the hard bar that was the strap-on. She pressed it into the crease between his buttocks and he shrieked again. She held that position a few moments, keeping him trapped, folded over the trolley. Then the mirror in front of him faded. The light in both rooms equalised, turning the mirror into a normal window. He recognised the woman in the room. Helen Stein was sat in an armchair, looking perfectly comfortable. A glass was sat on a small table next to her and he knew that it would be a gin and tonic, ice no lemon. She gave him a careless little wave and took a sip of her drink. Caitlin reached forward and adjusted his gag. She pulled at something and he felt the tube slip free. The strap was still in place about his face but speech was once again possible. ‘Do you have any last words to say?’ Caitlin asked him, ridiculously softly spoken, considering the position she had him pinned in. ‘No,’ he screamed. ‘Please, no, don’t do it. I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. Don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Ple-’ He was cut off as a tiny nod from Mrs Stein had the tube shoved back into his mouth, the gag re-secured. ‘I am afraid it seems our emperor is feeling unsympathetic tonight,’ Caitlin told him apologetically. Mrs Stein agreed with this assessment by giving him a traditional thumbs-down sign. She then reached forward and touched a button. The window faded back into a mirror and Frank saw his own panicked face in the place where she sat. There was a rip as she removed his shirt in one clean jerk. The trolley was icy cold beneath him. Another rip and the trousers followed suit. Then underwear, socks and shoes. She ripped off his watch and stripped his rings with cruel disregard for his knuckles. She tore off the binding at his wrists. Then she pulled the gag free, completely unstrapping it this time and casting the whole thing aside. Frank didn’t know what to make of this. He brought his arms forward with confusion, though glad to get his shoulders out of that awful position. Caitlin had released him and stepped back, away from him. He turned around, not knowing what to say or do. He rolled his shoulders painfully, trying to get the blood-flow back to normal. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. Caitlin stood six foot away from him, standing tall, facing him. The erect pole of her strap-on leant forward a little, gravity tugging it down so it almost pointed at him. ‘This scenario was created to teach you the nature of fear,’ Caitlin told him. ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘There are two theories of justice. Well, three actually but that’s my personal philosophy. What I’m here to explain now is the two basic theories. One is the traditional eye for an eye, life for a life theory. That basic fairness can only come about when the guilty are punished to an equivalent degree. This leads to all manner of problem concerning how one is to judge what is equivalent and whether it is effective in altering such behavioural patterns. ‘And the other?’ Frank asked, managing to keep the quavering fear reasonably quiet from his voice. ‘The other theory questions the effect of such punishments. Punishment doesn’t make the individual take on responsibility for that which they’ve done. The argument goes that by punishing someone, you’re forcing that responsibility upon them regardless, but the truth of the matter is more complex. By making the individual take their own responsibility on board you are effectively allowing them to appreciate what it is they’ve done.’ ‘I don’t understand.’ But he felt a glimmer of hope, for the first time. She smiled, indulgently. ‘We’re not here to torture you to death, only to make you believe that that was the intention.’ ‘You’re going to let me go?’ ‘We will do,’ Caitlin assured him. ‘But first we want to examine the tapes. We want you to tell us everything you felt and at what stage you realised what was going on. We want a complete assessment of what went on in your head from the moment we picked you up until now, when you realised it was all an experiment.’ ‘OK,’ Frank agreed. His head was light, his mind reeling. He could take this in. ‘Tell me what you’re feeling right now,’ she prompted. ‘Relief.’ And it was true. He was feeling a single peak of pure, unadulterated joy. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to jump up and down. He wanted to hug this woman, this horrific monster for whom he’d felt until now, only horror and revulsion. Now he was so grateful he could kiss her. He found himself grinning insanely. His giddiness sent his mind soaring in a crazy high and he giggled, unable to help himself. He felt himself get an erection and giggled again at the absurdity of it. He saw Caitlin’s huge pseudo hard-on, mammoth compared to him own poor efforts and giggled again. Caitlin smiled back at him, sweetly. She gestured behind him, calling his attention back to the window. He turned to see Mrs Stein watching him, faintly amused by his strange antics. He looked at that expression. That curious, cruel line of sadism spelled large in her eyes. Cold horror struck him again, the giddy high evaporating in moments. His proud, if somewhat unsubstantial member withered as quickly as it had risen. She smiled at him in a manner that was unmistakable. But she reinforced the expression anyway, lifting her hand to shove her middle finger up at him. The window faded back into a mirror, disguising her face once more. As the reflection returned, he saw the thick, muscled arms come down on his shoulders. Caitlin easily folded him forward, pressing his pot stomach against the cold steel of the trolley. She pressed his chest down against it so hard he thought she would crush his torso there and then. But she was careful not to damage him too much too soon. This was a carefully designed scenario and the instruction was to draw it out for as long as possible. She caught his horrified eyes in the mirror and grinned, unable to help herself. I can’t help it if I enjoy my work, she told herself, and thrust her hips forward. He tore on the first lunge, as she knew he would. She took it steady then, knowing to take it slow and easy. After all, if he went into cataleptic-shock, he’d miss all the fun. She felt more tearing and dug her fingers into his shoulders, jamming the thumbs against the bone. She wondered how much pressure… one shoulder-bone snapped followed immediately by the other. Caitlin stepped backwards, straightening her back to get more comfortable. Frank was lifted beneath her, impaled upon her. She was taller than he and even at the crest of her deepest thrusts up into him, his feet failed to touch the ground. He screamed something, yelling pleas and obscenities, but she wasn’t interested in anything men had to say. She was sure she’d heard it all before anyway. She wrapped an arm around his torso, squeezing him hard against her chest, feeling the fragile bones of his ribs, so delicate and breakable. Her other hand formed a claw gripping into his hip, aiding to the motion of her rhythm. As the blood gushed out of him, flowing down both their legs in a thick stream, she rammed the butch extension of her own engorged organ ever further on into him, tunnelling far beyond the body’s design. She began to orgasm and as that first peak exploded within her heart she increased her fury, timing his damage to her own exquisite pleasure. Something else inside him ruptured and he sank even lower onto her pole, his feet finally touching the ground. They were unable to support him however and they dangled limp either side of her own tree-trunk legs. She moved her arms, wrapping both powerful limbs around his chest. She squeezed tight, constricting his hacking breaths. Her mighty breasts crushed hard against his smashed shoulders, the nipples excited and pricking into him. She squeezed her biceps, making the humongous peaks mash into his ribs. The pliant bones began popping in sequence and she flexed harder and harder. His chest began to slowly but undeniably cave-in. Frank coughed up blood. Caitlin began to orgasm again, the liquid heat promising an elongated series of climaxes. She turned up the pressure, both with her penetrating hips and her bulging arms, wanting his final destruction to coincide with her own zenith. He went into spasm just as she did. Blood was flowing freely from him, so thick and fast that it was amazing to her that there could be any left inside him. His mouth and nose gushed, spilling sticky red bile down his ruined chest, over her shuddering arms that, even now, closed ever tighter over the thin crumpled mess that contained his mashed vital organs. She was so far inside him now that it wouldn’t have surprised her to see the tip of her spike pop its head through his lolling mouth. Caitlin finally ceased, gasping for breath, the series of wracking orgasms having drained her completely. She collapsed back, leaning her body against one of the mirrored walls. It was cold against her bare, gleaming flesh. What remained of Frank still sat impaled upon her strap-on. She looked up and realised that Ms T and Mrs Stein were in the room with her. She gasped for breath and tried to stand. ‘That’s OK,’ Ms T told her. ‘Relax.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped. ‘I got a bit carried away.’ ‘Don’t be sorry,’ Mrs Stein sighed, ‘that was wonderful.’ ‘Good job too,’ Ms T remarked dryly, ‘you can hardly try again.’ She regarded Frank curiously, lifting his face to look into the eyes. Caitlin undid the straps and Frank fell away, the strap-on still embedded deep inside him. The sound he made as he hit the ground could only be described as soggy. ‘I’ll get the tapes for you,’ Ms T said. ‘You can take them away with you now.’ ‘No that’s OK,’ Mrs Stein said. ‘I’m finished now. It’s time to let it go.’ Ms T nodded. In truth she was happier with this. She knew it was healthier for the woman to get on with her life rather than dwell upon it. ‘Would you care for a drink?’ she suggested. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’ ‘Caitlin, I suggest you go shower first. I’ll send one of the boys in to clean up.’ They left the room and Caitlin, still decidedly wobbly, followed.