Vampire nuns behind bars, p.1
Vampire Nuns Behind Bars, page 1
Vampire Nuns
Behind Bars
Patrick C. Harrison III
This is a work of fiction. None of the people, places, or events described in this novel actually exist or happened. Not yet anyway...
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Copyright © 2022 Patrick C. Harrison III
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DEDICATION
This one is for Nora.
Contents
Act One
Act Two
Act Three
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to M Ennenbach for conceiving the world in which this novel exists. Thank you as well to Chris Miller, who also contributed mightily to this world, especially in regards to the tech. To read their visions of this shared universe, check out Electro-Satan Comes to Wolfe City and The Sons of Thunder. All three of these works can be found in Cerberus Exploitation: A Grindhouse Triple Feature, available on Audible.
Act One
One
Somewhere beneath the cells, a woman laid crumpled on the floor in the dark, dripping with blood and sweat.
“This is against the law,” she said weakly, struggling to stand.
“Law?” another voice said, stern and feminine. “Bonnie, the law is what I say it is. You keep forgetting that. But you’ll remember eventually. And you’ll learn to stop getting up when I knock you down.”
“I’m a slow learner.”
“That’s okay; I’m a persistent teacher.”
The crack of the whip was like a gunshot, and its leather was the scent of pain.
*
It was a school bus once, carrying children to and from classes where they studied language arts, history, and arithmetic, before the world went to shit; now it was a bus that hauled inmates to the Corman District Penitentiary, and its shocks didn’t work worth a damn. The bus jostled along the well-traveled path, and, seeing as the CDP was a women’s prison and bras were banned because of their potential use in suicides and strangulations, the chests of the soon-to-be inmates jostled too—one of the perks of the job for detention officer Lucas Delray.
Sure, he could have let the ladies wait until they arrived at the CDP before removing their undergarments from beneath their robes—it wasn’t as if they were going to hang themselves on the bus ride—but where was the fun in that? By then, they would be Warden Thorne’s problem and she didn’t fancy letting the guards enjoy their work. The male guards, anyway. Plus, this was a unique situation: it wasn’t everyday Delray had a bus full of nuns—most of them weeping and praying—under his control. Not a single one of them had been blemished with ink or cybernetics and any other “upgrades.” This was unheard-of, even in the Outlands. They were pure women, inside and out. It was tough to find them pure anymore, unless they were muties, and to hell with them in that case. There were rumors Avery was pure, but Delray had his doubts. Pure women didn’t survive long in this part of the Outlands unless they were wrapped in the protective veils of one religious cult or another.
“Eyes straight ahead, Sister,” Delray said to the black nun in front, the one with the scowl on her face. He stood just behind the driver, his baton tucked threateningly into his crossed arms. He looked at Miles, the other guard, who was leaned against the backdoor of the bus, his arms crossed. Miles shook his head and laughed, likely knowing what Delray was up to. Delray enjoyed getting a rise out of the inmates.
“It’s Mother,” the nun said, not looking at him. She was the only one of the bunch that wasn’t either weeping uncontrollably or praying to Lord Jesus like Judgment Day was tomorrow morning.
“Excuse me?” Delray said.
“I’m the house prioress. So, it’s Mother, not Sister. Mother Superior. Despite the situation, I think a certain amount of respect is due.”
“Given the situation, Mother,” Delray said, leaning toward her, “I should mash your face in with my baton. You and your collection of cherries.” He looked up at the other nuns, all eight of them, a slight smile on his face. “But I suppose I’ll keep you all looking pretty. For now.”
Mother Superior stared straight ahead with that continued scowl, her lips pursed, as if she had a whole lot she’d like to say. Delray was not pleased with her lack of response. He wanted to have a little fun with this bitch before the warden took over. He thought calling her group of virgin underlings cherries would do the trick. Time to switch tactics.
“Never seen a colored nun before,” he said, grinning so wide that he exposed nearly all his titanium teeth.
Mother Superior slowly turned her glare on him. “You call me colored again, I’ll rip that blasphemous, stinking tongue right out of your head,” she sneered. “You got that, boy?”
For a split second, Delray’s smile wavered. He wasn’t really sure what response he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. This bitch had more fire in her than he realized. His smile wavered, yes, but he quickly remembered who held the baton and who had shackles on their wrists and ankles.
“Bitch,” Delray said, leaning forward again, “I’ll call you colored any goddamn time I please.”
Before Delray had time to process another thought, Mother Superior’s shackled wrists were colliding with his face. There was an audible crunching sound as his nose broke, sending blood spewing from his nostrils and eye-watering pain piercing through his skull. This, also, was not a response Delray was expecting from the bitch. But he didn’t have time to dwell on the surprising ferocity of the nun, because she wasn’t done.
Mother Superior stood as Delray, shocked, bent down, catching the pouring blood from his nose in his hand, looking at the mess the way a terrified child looks upon their own spilt blood. Mother Superior hit him again, this time harder, swinging her hands across her body as if swinging a bat, connecting the steal shackles with Delray’s temple. He collapsed to the floor of the bus, motionless, as harmless as a housefly.
“Hey, stop that shit!” the driver yelled, taking his eyes briefly off the road to gauge the situation. “Goddamn it, stop it!”
But Mother Superior wasn’t done. The crying and praying from her fellow nuns had largely halted; they watched the prioress with stunned amazement. Jumping on Delray’s immobile body, burying her knees into him, Mother Superior grabbed his shoulder and rolled him to his back. She could hear the running footfalls of the guard from the back of the bus. She only had a few seconds. Jamming her hands into Delray’s mouth, feeling the sickly smooth sharpness of his titanium teeth on her flesh, she grabbed hold of his tongue, digging her fingernails into it, causing blood to pour over her fingers and down the guard’s throat. She pulled, gritting her teeth, her back and shoulder muscles straining with effort they hadn’t felt in years.
“Let loose of him!” The hands of the other guard, Miles, grasped her nun’s habit, yanking Mother Superior backward. But she held tight to Delray’s tongue. Blood bubbled and poured from his mouth and nose. “I said let loose!”
“I ain’t letting loose!” Mother Superior screamed, her eyes filled with rage.
Delray’s eyes suddenly shot open, wide like saucers. He gagged and coughed around Mother Superior’s hands, spraying blood on her tunic. She pulled harder, feeling the tongue tear. Miles removed his baton from his belt and clubbed her over the head. “Let him loose!” With one final furious jerk, Delray’s tongue pulled freely from his maw with a burst of gore.
Leaning over him, staring into his terror-filled eyes, Mother Superior said, “And when you get your new cybernetic tongue, I’ll yank that out too, you disgusting pig!”
Miles clubbed her over the head again, and Mother Superior’s lights went out.
Two
“It looks like you had an interesting ride over, Sister,” Warden Thorne said, eyeing the black nun wearing a blood-soaked habit. Specks of blood were even on her face.
“It’s Mother,” the nun said. Her stare appeared absent of fear and compassion; not the look one expected of a woman of the cloth.
“Mother then,” Thorne said, then looked down at the holograph listing of her new inmates and the details of their crime. She sat behind a large oak desk in a concrete-walled room. On one wall, a clock said it was 11:32am. On another wall, a sign read INDUCTION AND INSPECTION in block letters. Two female guards stood at attention behind the warden. Thorne removed her black leather gloves and laid them neatly on her desk, then removed the uniform dress hat from her head and placed it beside the gloves. She slicked down her golden hair with her hands “Murderous nuns,” she said, still looking at the holograph. “Who would have thought?”
“We didn’t murder anyone,” Mother Superior said.
“That’s what they all say. And seeing as you may have just killed one of my guards, forgive me for not believing you.”
The nun said nothing.
“Welcome to the Corman District Penitentiary, Mother Superior. You and your fellow nuns will join the general population. No special treatment. Some of the inmates are harsh. Our guards can be harsh too. We do not tolerate rowdiness and misbehavior from our inmates. You will do as you’re told or you will pay the consequences. You will be given your own bed and three meals a day . You’ll see our doctor for a physical, and he’ll be available to you should you require medical attention for any reason. You, Mother, have already made it clear that despite being a woman of God, you are also a woman of violence. Let me assure you,” Thorne said, raising her voice, “acts of aggression toward myself or my guards will result in severe punishment. Some inmates accuse me of torture, Mother. I consider it rehabilitation. Is all that understood?”
“Yes,” Mother Superior said, fiercely.
“Good. Now undress.”
For the first time, the nun flinched. “What?” she said.
“I said undress. You will be inspected for paraphernalia and given new clothes. Surely you don’t think you’ll be allowed to wear your nun garb in prison.”
Mother Superior glared at the warden, but consented. Frowning, she removed her tunic and veil and scapular, tossing them in a bloody bundle on the concrete floor. She stood straight, arms at her side, gooseflesh breaking out all over, the nipples of her large breasts sharp, a silver crucifix hanging between them.
“Remove the necklace. Your panties, as well.”
“This is my crucifix!” the nun said. “It was given to me by Father Magnus!”
“I don’t care if it was given to you by Jesus Christ himself. You could use it to strangle a guard or one of your fellow inmates. Remove it!”
Tears formed in the nun’s eyes. But she removed the necklace, slowly, and held it for a moment, admiring it, a single tear falling onto the crucifix. She tossed it into the bundled tunic. Then, she removed the white cotton panties, exposing a tangle of black hair between her legs, and threw them nonchalantly atop the rest of her stuff.
Warden Thorne pulled open the top drawer of her desk and removed a leather riding crop. She stood, straightening her uniform, then walked around the desk to inspect the new inmate. Another tear hung from Mother Superior’s eye. Thorne suspected it took a great deal of stress to break this woman. Those were tears of anger, not of fear or pain. She was a lovely woman, Thorne thought, for someone in her mid-forties and free of upgrades. Curvaceous and toned. In another life, she could have driven men to madness with desire. Yet, if what she’d heard of nuns was true, Mother Superior stood here a virgin.
Thorne ran the leather tongue at the end of the crop along the nun’s flesh, tracing the curves of her hips and torso. Mother Superior shivered and balled her hands into fists. Thorne smiled and walked around her, sliding the crop over her bottom and along the backs of her legs and inside her thighs. Moving the crop up until its tongue rested on the soft folds between the nun’s legs, Thorne leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear, “You’re going to fit right in, Mother.”
“Can you let me go now?” Mother said, her voice shaken but strong.
“Of course,” Thorne said, smiling and pulling the riding crop away. “Guard, show Mother Superior to her cell and get her dressed. Send in the next nun!”
Three
Sister Willow was the last nun to go through induction and inspection. A fragile soul, she arrived at her cell in the thin shorts and tank-top provided by the guards shaking and crying, her face buried in her hands. The bars closed behind her, and she heard the guard snickering as she departed.
“Sister Willow,” a voice said as arms enclosed around her, “are you okay?”
It was Sister Susan. At least she’d ended up in a cell with another nun. Letting her hands slide from her face, Willow held Susan and sobbed, pushing her wet eyes into her friend’s shoulder.
“I know, baby,” Sister Susan said, stroking Willow’s long brown hair. “It’s a tragic situation. But God will get us out of this. We just need to pray and pray hard.”
“What a couple of pussies,” someone else said.
At last, Sister Willow opened her eyes, not having realized there was anyone else in the cell other than herself and Sister Susan. In fact, there were three other women. Mother Superior laid on the bottom bunk of one of the six beds in the cell, her arms crossed, her eyes looking distant and angry. The other two women were unfamiliar. One, a blonde, was leaned against a second bunk with an unlit cigarette in her mouth, staring and smiling at Willow. The other laid on the bottom of the third set of bunks. Her head was shaved and she was heavily tattooed and had cybernetic red eyes that glowed. She stuck her bifurcated tongue out at Willow and laughed. Everyone was wearing the same set of shorts and tank-tops.
“You’re gonna have to toughen up if you intend on living long at the CDP,” the blonde said. “What’s your name, ho?”
“S-Sister Willow,” Willow said, pulling away from Sister Susan.
“Willow, then. I’m not saying that sister shit.”
“Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” the tattooed woman with the cybernetic eyes said. “I bet Warden Thorne loved the shit out of you, huh? Light blue eyes and a sexy body. You’re a fucking nun? You could be making bank selling that pussy in the domes. Hell, you could probably do pretty good in the Outlands, even if all the men are farmers and scavengers.”
“She’s a woman of God,” Susan said. Then nodding toward Mother Superior, she added, “We all are.”
“Yeah well, God won’t help you much here,” the blonde said. “We gotta help each other. I’m Alexis and miss red eyes over there is Leigh. Bonnie has been in the hole for the last week or so. She’ll be back soon. Warden Thorne likes to give her hell. Ol’ Bonnie is a tough bitch.”
“Alexis, Leigh, and Bonnie’s in the hole,” Willow said meekly, wiping tears from her eyes.
“That’s right. You’re new fuckin' family. With our help, you’ll survive this place.”
“You’re not our family,” Mother Superior said, breaking her silence, glaring at Alexis. “These Sisters of Mary don’t need or want anymore family. We’re our own family.” Sitting up now, she continued: “We don’t want help from the likes of you. We can take care of ourselves.”
“That right?” Alexis said, crossing her arms. “You may be head bitch down at the convent or wherever you came from, but here, here you aren’t shit. We’ll see how tough you are when Bonnie gets back. And we’ll really see how tough you are when Wicked Warden Thorne comes for you. And believe me, she will.”
Mother Superior and Alexis stared into each other’s eyes not saying anything further. Willow had never seen Mother Superior act this way. First, she’d exploded on that guard in the bus, hitting him and tearing out his tongue, and maybe even killing him. Now she was challenging this woman who was convicted of God knew what. She could be a serial killer for all they knew. This was a far cry from the Mother Superior Willow had known over the last several years, a woman whose compassion and faith in God was unequaled. It was Alexis who finally broke eye contact.
“Well, the top bunk there is yours,” she said, referencing the mattress above Leigh. “It’s the last one.”
“Okay,” Willow said.
“Ladies!” a woman guard said, banging her baton on the bars of the cell. Willow, startled, jumped and turned to see that the woman was both wide and tall, and had a thin mustache and a giant mole on her chin that sprouted three long hairs. She could’ve been an ogre, Willow thought. “Stop all the fussing and cussing, it’s time for your showers.”
Four
The inspection by Warden Thorne—Wicked Warden Thorne, as Alexis had dubbed her—was the most humiliating thing Willow had ever experienced. Warden Thorne had indeed “loved the shit” out of her, as Leigh suggested. She’d run her hands all over Willow’s body, telling her she was the perfect female form. She’d pinched her nipples and swatted her behind and swatted her again with that leather thing. And then—God, forgive her—the warden had stuck the tip of her finger inside Willow, then stuck the finger in her own mouth, smiling devilishly the whole time.
Willow thought that once it was over, the embarrassment of the day was over as well. No such luck. It wasn’t as if she thought she would have the luxury of a private shower at a prison. The thought of taking a shower hadn’t even occurred to her since she and the other nuns were swiftly and unjustly convicted of murder and loaded on a bus and divvied up among the cells.
