The Reverend chuckled to himself as he dragged Maddy over the lip of the Hen House doorway, the sound of the stupid fleeing girl being slammed into the wall back there fading into the distance. Maddy hadn't made a peep in almost 30 seconds, not bad.  He dragged her across the threshold, out of the day's light and fresh air, into the musty darkness of the Hen House's entry corridor, turning left and dragging her bound bare feet across the concrete of the hallway, feeling her squirming a bit, almost without purpose, as if she knew she was supposed to still be trying to get loose from him but not really remembering why, or where else she'd go.  As she was learning here on the farm, as bad as it might be wherever you were, there was always someplace else right nearby that was a whole hell of a lot worse. And coincidentally, that was precisely the doorway he banged open and dragged her through now. "Come on girl, let's find your seat for the show. I think there's an empty seat down here in the front row!" he snickered as he dragged her into the room, bumping the light switch with his right shoulder on the way in, so the overhead flickered a couple times and then fully illuminated the inside of the room.<br/><br/>He held her tight, knowing the sight of the chair and all the nails he'd pounded in earlier with his hammer and a bucket full of nails and sweat, well, he almost wanted to run himself, and he wasn't even the pincushion for today's event.  Then there were all the instruments hanging from the hooks along the wall, shiny metal and leather too.  The concrete floor with the drain in the middle, stains of dark fluids past marking the floor in a swirl around it.  But mostly it was the nails, he knew that.<br/><br/>"Hush, sweetheart, hush!" trying to preempt any useless whining and begging as his eyes quickly hunted down the straps he'd be needing.  He reached for the bundle of thick canvas straps he'd left on the metal cabinet just inside the door, the muscles of his other arm tensing, wrapped around her slender torso, and now dragging her with just that arm. He could feel Maddy starting to buck, sounds he refused to recognize starting to come out of her, sounding like the word "no" a lot. Halfway to the chair he lifted the bundle of canvas straps up high and then brought them down hard, first once across her tits (just cuz he liked doing that), and then one more time right into her midsection, to knock the air out of her and to make his point.  "Quiet, honey cunt, don't be impatient with that mouth of yours, keep it shut still. I promise we'll give your lips something to do right soon."  Damn, he wanted to whack the bitch across the tits one more time, see that lovely bounce again, the painful wordless moaning, but he'd already made his point. Oh what the hell! He lifted the straps once more over her body, now hunched over a bit from the blow to her belly, and whipped them down one more time across the bitch's breasts.<br/><br/>"Hurts, don't it?" he asked, completely without sympathy, his hand now stroking the straps across her abused tits, not to console, but to taunt, to make totally clear to her that he could do whatever he wanted to her, hurt her, feel her, treat her like dirt, and she'd have no choice in the matter. That was how it was for her from now on, and she might as well start getting used to it. He was just being helpful.  He finished dragging her the last steps to the chair bristling with nails, feeling her squirming a lot less now, and even the squirming she was doing was probably more about trying to gasp for breath after getting hit.<br/><br/>He looked down on the chair and all the nails, pride of craftsmanship in his eyes. He'd spent a good hour hammering them in, and it wasn't easy.  He'd first used a smaller nail to create a starter hole before hammering the slightly bigger nails through -- so the points wouldn't get dulled or bent at all from being hammered through the wood. If he hadn't been able to close his eyes once in awhile and imagine the thing being used, he might have gotten too bored to finish the job.  Then there was the issue of how many. It was tempting to put in too many, but Mordecai'd been sure to tell him to go easy, that more nails didn't necessarily mean more pain, cuz too many nails could just take all the victim's weight evenly spread across them, like those bed of nails tricks that Houdini guy used to do.  No, enough to hold the victim's weight, and no more, so each nail pressed into soft flesh, points painful and threatening to poke through the taut skin resting on them, and maybe with just a little more pressure pushing down on her they might!  That was the image that sustained him through the tedious, tiring hammering.<br/><br/>He stood her up right at the base of the chair, reached for his knife and quickly sliced the expensive skirt right off her. That wouldn't do her no good in this thing.  He thought about the pretty little panties, and decided maybe they should stay for the moment, so she'd have one more thing to look forward to losing.  He then ripped open her blouse, buttons popping and bouncing and rolling around the floor, pulling it off her shoulders and down, where it got stuck on her bound wrists. Another careful slash of the knife freed her wrists and let the blouse flutter to the floor at her feet.<em>My oh my</em>, he thought to himself,<em>for a slightly used bitch, she was a nice piece of tail.</em><br/><br/>He quickly lifted her up, before she could start fighting him again, especially with her arms free now. He left her ankles tied so he wouldn't get kicked by one of those pretty legs.  He heard her groan as the strength of his arm touched soft parts that were still hurting, and deposited her ass fairly gently but firmly right down onto the nails. Of course she started flailing around so he smacked her across the face, "Sit still, stupid bitch!" and then again, backhanding her across her other cheek. "Struggling around like that is only gonna make it worse, silly cunt!" and he gripped his hand at her throat after the second smack, watching her intently, pressing her back into the chair, slowly squeezing tighter until her panicked movements subsided. He held her exactly like that for 10 more seconds, until it was clear to both of them that she knew how to sit still.  Loosening his grip on her throat just slightly, but still holding her there, pressing her into the back of the seat, so she was properly up against the nails all over her flesh, he took the first strap, letting the rest fall to the floor with his other hand. He brought it up and around her throat, then with both hands brought it around the post behind her, holding it tight so her neck was trapped, head held high so she'd have a real nice view of the show.  He threaded it through the metal clasps installed behind the chair and tugged it tight, until she was nicely strapped by the neck to the back of the chair. "Hold still girl, almost there."<br/><br/>He bent down and picked up another strap, holding her right wrist over the arm of the chair, nails even painstakingly installed there, poking into the soft underside of her forearm, and wrapped the strap around her wrist, clamping it down in the metal clasp, tightening it until she gasped and then stopping.  Another strap at the elbow, pulling it tight as well. Then the other arm, same thing, each strap tugged tighter until her gasp or visibly reacted to the pain, telling him she was right on the edge, and stopping there.<br/><br/>He knelt down, and finally freed her ankles with a pull of the knife.  He gripped her ankles and pulled them apart, feeling her squirming just a bit, but the sounds she was making it clear she was starting to realize just how bad an idea that was.  Two straps around each bare leg, binding them to the chair legs, pressing her calves against more nails -- nails everywhere.  Her legs were spread open and he whistled his admiration with all the chivalry of a horny construction worker, momentarily regretting not having stripped her down to her bare cunt but realizing it gave him something to look forward to. He stood up now that she was fully strapped down. He could see the fury and the fear and the pain all mixed together in her eyes, and the helplessness. He loved it. He touched his hardon through his pants, making sure she could see how many inches of thick pity he was feeling for her.<br/><br/>He debated with himself about the last strap, whether it would be better to put it around her waist and strap her ass down onto the chair and keep her still on it, or to let her wriggle around and occasionally try to lift herself off it, only to hurt worse when she came back down.<br/><br/>His internal debate was cut short by Mordecai's entry into the room.<em>Fuck it</em>he thought to himself.<em>I can always add it later for a bit of fun.</em>"Ready boss, you've got an audience."  And he meant himself as well as the bitch, by that.<br/><br/><br/>