Lamia by Juliandes Page A

last comment.  Maria was the daughter of a preacher; Lamia was Maria and yet she seemed to have a low opinion of religion.
    “Religion doesn’t preach fear!” I said.
    “Not now maybe, but that’s only because nobody is afraid anymore.  It used to preach hell and eternal damnation in the fiery pit, coupled with God is your loving father.  It’s a great way to control the masses; give them a choice of two opposites with nothing in between. That was how I planned to work our little enterprise.  The more we talked, the more Mateo grew to trust my opinion.  Now when I went to his room it was by enticement and mutual consent.”
    I was becoming very uneasy with the conversation.  She was now talking about a relationship with the man who had her captured, had her parents killed and physically abused her.  I had once read ab out something called Stockholm S yndrome in which the victim becomes sympathetic with the captors , the most famous case being that of Patty Hearst who even robbed banks with her captors.  This seemed to me to be way beyond that.  At this point the only explanation I could come up with was that she was trying to change him; to make Mateo good.  It seemed a dangerous path to take!   I then asked the question, the answer of which I still rep eat to myself from time to time, when I think about those who have wronged me.
    “Lamia, did you never consider revenge for the past things Mateo did to you and Maria?”
    Lamia looked puzzled, almost as if she had misunderstood the question.
    “How would that have helped me?” she asked.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but when nothing came out I simply closed it again and let her continue .
    “There was some revenge, but only constructive revenge.   Mateo wanted to handle Almero but agreed to allow me to handle the other three .    I saw it as a good way to spread the name of the Lamia .
    It was before breakfast that Mateo had Almero tied to a whipping frame.  It was one of three vertical metal frame s where men could be tied spread-eagled .  We had breakfast on the patio as they stripped him naked and gagged him with a piece of wood which was secured by a string round his neck.   He tugged at his bonds with rage before finally resigning himself to the fact that he could not break free.  The mountain-men taunted and physically abused him while we drank coffee and looked on.  When a man is spread-eagled, naked and gagged, there is little he can do to defend himself, and I watched dispassionately as they caused him pain.
    After breakfast Mateo appeared on the lawn with a palillo dentado in his hand.  He stood in front of Almero who panicked as much as anybody in his position could.  The fear in his eyes was intense and I was fascinated as Mateo took up a position behind him and aimed the first blow.   The high-pitched squeals that came from Almero were repeated time and again as the toothed stick was aimed with dreadful accuracy.  I moved closer to witness the raised weals with the familiar canoe-shaped scallops, quickly filling with blood , which soon began to seep down his body.  The whole of his back, thighs, legs and buttocks looked like they had been through a mincer.  Then Mateo moved to the front, at which point I could not stand there watching any longer.”
    I was relieved that Lamia had finally had enough of this violence , but my relief was short lived.
    “I asked Mateo to coach me so that I could wield the palillo as well.  He showed me how to aim it for maximum effect and how I should begin at the lowest point, otherwise, once the blood began to flow, it could be difficult to see where the last strike was.  It was almost a science as I aimed the first blow at the calf of his right leg, ignoring his pleading eyes and pig-like grunting noises as he fought for air through the gag.  It was hot work and Mateo ordered some fresh lemonade while I finished up.   I noticed that I had caught his cock a couple of times which made it look