by Syra Bond
I stared down the corridor towards the sound. An anguished face appeared from around a corner to another corridor that led off at right angles. It was a beautiful young woman on her hands and knees. Her short black hair was wet with sweat; her face grimaced in agony, her neck held fast by a tightly pulled heavy linked chain. She had small breasts, her nipples were pink, extended and hard, and her mouth was stuffed with a black ball gag secured behind her head with a tightly buckled leather strap. As she strained against the chain, her long red painted fingernails scratched on the shiny red floor.
She saw me and pulled on the chain towards me. She looked desperate for help. I struggled against my own bonds, foolishly thinking for a moment that I could free myself and go to her aid. She pulled again against the heavy chain. The pressure on her neck was so great that she choked behind the ball gag. She pulled again. I could see she was in pain - the links were digging into the pale smooth skin of her neck, and the pressure that held her back was making it difficult to breathe. She choked again. This time mucous ran from her nostrils as she struggled to get her breath; it dribbled over the surface of the ball in her mouth and ran onto her chin. She rose up on her hands and knees and tensed herself. I could see she was readying to make another effort to pull herself free.
She stared at a small grid in the floor between the two of us. She was making it her aim - something to focus on, a target, a hope, something to take her mind off the effort and pain. She arched her back and breathed in deeply. The chain tightened. She lowered her head, held the points of her sharp fingernails against the floor and drove herself forward.
Her nails scraped against the red floor, the chain pulled so hard against her neck she could barely choke, but she made no progress at all. She rested, breathing hard through her flaring nostrils. Suddenly, as if dragged by a massive unseen force, she was snatched backwards and disappeared from my view into the other corridor.
I heard men’s angry voices - a slap, what sounded like a kick - then the thud of a body slumped on the floor. For a moment there was silence then more raised voices. There was a pause then suddenly the woman appeared again, this time rushing forward on her hands and knees, the chain dangling freely at her neck. She had broken free! Again she had her eyes fixed on the grill in the corridor - again she was making it her target.
Her pursuers came out of the other corridor - three men, one brandishing a short whip, the other two wielding canes. She could not outrun them - it was hopeless. The one with the whip grabbed the chain and yanked her to a terrifying and abrupt halt. She spun around - pivoting on the chain around her neck, falling backwards with the sudden stopping force, and then collapsing on her back to the floor.
The men with the canes started beating her. Cutting blows fell on her breasts, her hips and across the crack of her naked exposed cunt. She held up her hands to fend them off but she hadn’t got the strength. They pushed her over on her front and laced her buttocks, striking her alternately - aiming to land their slashing blows in the red lines already made by each other’s canes.
She could not yell out; her pain was confined by the ball - held in, stifling her, plugging her up. Spit ran down her chin and tears streamed from her wide fearful eyes as she heaved and choked. The two men stood back so that the third could bring his whip down on her reddened buttocks. Without a second thought she jumped to her hands and knees and again rushed forward. The men laughed and easily recaptured her. I could see she hardly had any more strength.
One of them pulled his trousers off, got down behind her and drove his cock into her exposed cunt. For a moment, she pressed back against it, using it for her own pleasure; then again, unable to keep her attention on the cock inside her, she started pulling against the chain - seeking freedom from the ill-treatment of her captors.
The man pulled his cock out and let his semen run over her back. Her eyes lifted, as though it cooled her burning skin. The man with the whip stepped towards the grid in the floor. He bent to it and lifted it. It opened like a small cage door. He held it open while the other two men held the chain. The woman strained frantically - pulling with renewed strength against the chain. I didn’t know where she got her strength from. She pulled so hard they could not hold her - they both slid forwards on the slippery floor as she dragged them along bodily.
The man holding the grill door smiled. Straining every muscle, she struggled towards him- clawing at the floor, using her toes to gain extra purchase, biting hard on the ball in her mouth to give her the strength to withstand the pain of the constricting chain around her neck.
Finally, she reached her goal - the open grill! She stopped at its edge for a moment then dropped into the hole that was beneath it! The grill was her aim; her desire was to be in the small hole beneath it! She was not trying to get away from the men; she was trying to get to the hole!
The man dropped the grill shut; the other two released the chain. Everything was silent. The man with the whip opened a small door in the centre of the grill. I was barely big enough for someone to get their head through. He reached inside the hole and removed the woman’s ball gag. She breathed in explosively then breathed out in a long whining moan. She was where she wanted to be - incarcerated in the small hole beneath the grill.
She was still panting as she poked her head through the small opening in the centre of the grill. The three men bent around her in a circle. One of them looked at me for a moment but quickly turned away. He opened his mouth wide - his canine teeth were sharp and glistening. He bent down and placed his teeth against her neck. Her eyes filled with ecstasy as he punctured her skin and began to suck. She moved rhythmically beneath his bite, breathing hard and exhaling noisily as he fed on her warm delectable blood.
When he was satisfied he pulled back. Mucous ran from her nostrils, spit ran from her mouth, and a small trickle of blood ran from the two wounds in her pale skin. She stared at me - showing me her pleasure, trying to convey to me her satisfaction, and the promise of joy held in that delightful bite. As the next one took his turn and pushed his sharp teeth into the same blotch encircled punctures that led to her pure and delicious blood, she looked away as her eyes rolled upwards and she gave herself completely to an overpowering paroxysm of ecstasy.
THE TREATMENT PLAN
I shivered. I had been asleep - sitting in the wheelchair, naked, for I don’t know how long.
Nurse Roslin marched into the room. Sunlight streamed through the windows. I looked up and was dazzled by it. I squinted and shook my head in an attempt to wake up.
‘Where’s Caroline?’ I asked falteringly.
‘Asleep,’ she said curtly. ‘She sleeps in the day - in the dark. You look as if you don’t much like the light either. How long have you been feeling like that - sensitive to light?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t know I was.’
‘Good, it’s not gone too far yet then. Anyway, Dr Collins is expecting us, and we mustn’t keep him waiting. I’ve learned that to my cost.’
She grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, spun it around and pushed me hurriedly to the door.
She didn’t talk to me. She was nothing like Caroline - she was more standoffish, aloof, altogether more severe, more correct I suppose you’d call it.
The corridors seemed endless - bleak, damp and lined with heavy oak doors. Along the edges of some, patients lay on beds. Some of them looked up as we passed - one waved weakly, some laughed, a naked woman giggled and threw a pair of panties at me. Nurse Roslin turned sharply and slapped her across the face and the woman dropped back onto her bed. She grinned at me slightly as soon as Nurse Roslin wasn’t looking.
We went along a corridor that opened out on one side into a long balcony. Three male nurses were taking turns with a young woman who was tied to a bed that had been pushed out underneath the covered veranda. She screamed as we passed but one of the nurses smacked her face then gagged her mouth with
a pair of panties. The other two nurses leered at me as Nurse Roslin pushed me past hurriedly. I turned back and watched as the woman’s buttocks were lifted high and the first male nurse drove his cock into her anus. A pain-racked scream burst from her as the panties exploded from her mouth. The man started smacking her bottom as punishment. One of the others stuffed the panties back in as she fought for breath between her screams. We rounded the corner of the corridor but I could still hear her screaming for a long time.
We arrived at a heavy oak door with a sign: Dr Collins. Chief Medical Officer.
Nurse Roslin pushed me into the room. A couch with a plastic covered mattress sat at its centre. Dr Collins stood behind it, his white coat buttoned up carefully, a red tie pulled up tightly to the collar of his shirt, two pens clipped into his coat pocket, a stethoscope dangling from his neck.
He nodded to Nurse Roslin. She nodded back and stood on the other side of the couch - her hands together in front of her crotch, her long red fingernails shining in the bright fluorescent light that hung from the ceiling.
‘It’s always a joy to have a new visitor, don’t you think, nurse?’
‘Yes, doctor, always a joy.’
Nurse Roslin smiled broadly. She ran the wet tip of her tongue across her white teeth.
‘Let’s have our new visitor up on the couch - give her a thorough check over. We want to be sure she’s fit for treatment, don’t we?’
Nurse Roslin unfastened my wrists from the arms of the wheelchair. I had completely forgotten I had been secured to it! Had I been like that all night? My stomach filled with nerves at the thought. I felt shaky as she pulled me off the wheelchair and helped me to stand.
‘You’ll be alright,’ she said, startling me with her sudden words of assurance. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
I reached forward and rested my hands on the edge of the couch.
Doctor Collins looked at papers on a clipboard.
‘You are...Syra Bond. Good! Let’s have a look at you, Syra Bond!’
Nurse Roslin pushed me towards the couch. I was fully dressed! The last thing I remembered I had been naked! A sickening feeling of confusion came over me again. I felt vomit in my throat.
‘Help her off with her blouse and skirt, nurse. Leave her underwear though. I’ll remove that when she’s lying down.’
I stood weakly while Nurse Roslin unbuttoned the white blouse and slipped it back over my shoulders. She had to undo the buttons at the cuffs before it slid down onto the floor. A thin zip at the waist of the dark blue shirt came undone easily and the skirt fell down around my feet. I was wearing a white lacy bra and tight white cotton panties - the material of the panties was pulled up tightly around the flesh of my cunt. White sheer stockings were clipped to a white suspender belt that was pulled tightly around my waist.
None of the questions I had in my mind would form sufficiently for me to ask them.
Submitting completely to Nurse Roslin, I lay back on the couch and stared up at the blinking fluorescent light. The crotch of the tight panties pulled even tighter against the flesh of my cunt as I stretched out my legs. For a moment I felt a surge of pleasure but it was immediately replaced by a wave of fear. I fixed my gaze on the fluorescent light as it blinked hypnotically.
Dr Collins put down the clipboard beside me. He took a pen from his top pocket and wrote something hurriedly on the top sheet of paper. He reached the pen forward and pressed down my bottom lip. He nodded, and tapped my bottom teeth with the nib.
‘Mm...dentist, I think.’
Again, he wrote something down.
‘Remove her suspender belt, nurse.’
I heard a giggling sound near the door but did not dare look.
Nurse Roslin unclipped the suspender belt clips one at a time. They hung down loosely - two between the tops of my thighs, two on the outside of my hips. She unclipped the belt at the back, lifting my hips up to get at it, and drew it away. She threw it down dismissively onto the floor near to the door.
I heard a scurrying sound near the door as if someone rushed to pick up the discarded suspender belt.
‘Well, we certainly need these off,’ said Dr Collins, opening the top of the waistband of my panties with the pen. ‘Perhaps a razor as well, nurse.’
He took hold of the sides of my panties and pulled them down until they were on my thighs. The material at the crotch did not move - it remained tight against my crack. I felt the tugging sensation and again a surge of pleasure came over me.
‘Now, Syra, you must open your legs a little,’ he said. ‘Good.’
He pulled the panties down further, exposing my cunt.
He leant over me and placed the chest piece of his stethoscope over my heart - I felt it pounding with fear.
‘Yes, nurse, plenty of foam. Let’s make sure there isn’t the slightest sign of a hair. I want her completely naked so that her treatment gets off to a proper start.
Nurse Roslin went to a small table at the edge of the room. She picked up a fine horn handled brush and brushed it against her cheek.
‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘The softest badger hair.’
‘Nurse!’ reprimanded Dr Collins.
Nurse Roslin scowled but continued to do what she had been told. She ran some warm water into a bowl, dipped the brush into it then swirled it around a dish with a block of shaving soap at its centre. The brush worked up a soft white lather. Its heady aroma filled my nostrils. She came back, carrying the soap dish in one hand and the brush in the other.
Carefully, she started applying the foam. She spread it around the base of my stomach, down in the crack between the outer edges of my labia and the inside tops of my thighs, across the mounded labia on each side of my crack and down towards my anus. Every so often she stood back and analysed her work. She rubbed carefully so that no area was missed. It felt silky and moist and the touch of the soft soapy brush made me shiver with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. The blinking of the light and the regular soft strokes of the brush sent me into a trance of joy.
Nurse Roslin stood back and admired her effort for one last time.
‘Good. Now a fresh sharpening, I think,’ she said, musing to herself as she walked back to the table at the side of the room.
She washed the brush in water, wiped out the soap dish and placed both items carefully in a small box. From the same box she took out a cut throat razor - a quality straight edge model with a mother of pearl handle - and pulled the edge of the blade against her thumb nail.
‘Yes, definitely.’
A shiny leather strop hung by a silver ring from the table’s edge; at its other end was sewn a mother of pearl heart shaped handle.
Nurse Roslin held the heart shaped handle and began drawing the blade against the smooth leather. She pulled it up and down slowly - it made a low swishing sound, like a soft breath. Again she tested the blade against her nail. She was not satisfied. She rubbed a little paste on the strop to lubricate it, then worked the blade more against its smooth polished surface. The hollow ground blade glinted in the harsh light of the flickering fluorescent tubes.
‘I hope she doesn’t mind silver?’ said Doctor Collins.
Nurse Roslin laughed at the joke they obviously shared.
Again, I heard the giggling at the door - it was as if someone was listening in on Dr Collins’ and Nurse Roslin’s joke. I turned my head enough to look. A small group were gathered together, pointing, giggling, and muttering. They were watching everything that was happening! I couldn’t make out any faces.
Nurse Roslin placed the sharpened edge of the open razor against the skin an inch or two above the top cleft of my crack. She pulled it down firmly and slowly. I felt the sharp blade running through the foam, cutting it away and with it any remnant of pubic hair that lay beneath it. She rubbed the surplus foa
m onto a towel, returned to the nearby table, dipped the blade into a bowl of hot water, came back and started again.
She repeated the process, working conscientiously, leaning down and checking to see if she had missed anything, occasionally rubbing her fingers across my skin to make sure it was perfectly smooth.
She pressed the insides of my thighs and parted them slightly. She ran the razor deftly across the mounds of flesh each side of my labia. I tensed as I felt the blade cutting through the foam. She followed the same procedure - wiping, walking to the table, dipping, walking back, and running her fingers across where she had shaved.
She lifted my one leg and ran the razor across my perineum. She pulled the blade right up to the edges of my anus, circled it, and drew it away onto the insides of my buttocks. I felt the coolness of air against my freshly naked skin. I rose up against the razor - wanting more, needing it closer. She twisted the blade on its edge and ran it into the top of my crack. I shivered as I thought of the sharp edge so close to my labia. I dropped my head to the side and gasped.
I opened my eyes wide and again saw the group standing around the doorway - they were moving closer. I could see them more clearly now: a man and four women all holding onto each other. The four women were barely covered in ripped and ragged smocks. The man wore a dark suit. Their faces were all in a heavy shadow -as if the light from the fluorescent tube did not reach them. As they got closer, and without speaking or making any sound, they reached out their hands towards the couch - towards me!
I twisted myself - trying to get away from their clawing hands. Before I could move, I felt the razor nick my skin. I knew she had cut me. I froze. I knew I was bleeding. The image of the open blade flashed into my mind. I was filled with terror.
Nurse Roslin pulled back. I saw the flash of the razor’s straight edge. I saw the smear of blood on its shiny surface. As I watched, it ran along the blade, turned into a red droplet and fell from the glistening edge. I did not follow its descent - I did not want to know where it fell - but I knew it was mine that it had been spilled by the action of another, and that it was irreplaceable.