by Ian Redman
Breathing deeply, Piper looked at her, his sweat dripping down his body, his loins aching from the brutal pummelling of her so called ‘milking procedure’.
“There now,” she whispered, her face once again coming close to his, “I’m going to gently wash you all over. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Piper didn’t speak, his eyes focusing again on the theatre light above him. “Are you not wanting to talk to your doctor Oliver, oh…that’s very rude isn’t it?” With a large, beaming smile set firmly on her attractive face, Lana Franke placed the sponge in the bowl, then rung it out, the water making gentle tinkling sounds as it fell onto the bowl’s round rim. Still smiling, she moved to the tip of the table, her hand nimbly turning Piper’s face towards her. Gently, ever so gently, she sponged his forehead, mopping the sweat from his sodden brow, then down, over his face.
Piper closed his eyes. In a strange way, he was grateful for the sponging. It was refreshing; bringing him out of the linear sense of unclean misery in which he had lain for some time.
“There now,” again came the soothing voice of the woman who knew she was in complete control of the man lying helpless on her operating table. Gently she continued, moving to his chest, re-soaking the sponge from time to time, her latex gloved hand, slowly following the pattern of his secured, aching body, moving up and along his strong muscular arms.
She was quiet thought Piper, her breathing hushed, the smile on her face, still there, but different.
Soothingly, the physician rubbed the sponge down toward his stomach, and over his seed. “Oh, look at this mess!” The sponge and the warm water gently caressed Piper’s skin and his senses, once again causing his arousal, as she knew it would. “Good boy,” she whispered, her hand sliding down to his loins, the sponge wiping quickly, cleaning thoroughly, then on, down his legs…and to his knees. “Oh dear, your wound is bleeding.”
Oh God, thought Piper, please God!
Another pause, the beautiful physician continuing to stare at Piper, her eyes seemingly so gentle, so…sexual. “I’m going to remove the bandage and take a look at the wound, just relax.”
The pain in Piper’s right knee had been with him since he first awoke, but he had accepted it. He knew he would have to, for worse pain was yet to come, of that he was certain.
Ever so gently, Doctor Lana Franke unwrapped the bloody bandage from Piper’s broken kneecap. “It wasn’t very nice of Wilhelm to shoot you, was it?” Again, there was no reply from Piper as she finished removing the bloody strips of cloth. “The bullet has damaged your Patella quite considerably. In fact my darling, there’s nothing there, just broken fragments.” Lana moved away from the table, to a four-shelf trolley in the corner of the theatre.
Slowly, worriedly, Piper lifted his head as she did so, looking at the area of damage. My God he thought, I should be healing faster than this! Suddenly, he heard a metallic sound, a sound of instruments being handled.
She turned around, a pair of large surgical tweezers in her hand, together with a roll of cotton wool and a bottle of…something. “The wound will have to be cleaned, my darling.”
Oh no, she’s licking her lips again thought Piper, the physician quickly returning to his side, tearing off a large piece of cotton wool and removing the lid of the plastic bottle. Tipping the bottle, she soaked the cotton swab. As she did so, Piper began to recognise the smell coming from the bottle. What the hell, he thought?
“You will feel some pain during this standard procedure darling, but there’s nothing to worry about. I’m just going to clean the wound with antiseptic, now…just relax.” As Lana Franke placed the sodden swab in the grip of the tweezers, she began to giggle. Quickly, she grabbed Piper’s knee, just above the wound, the pressure of her grip sending him into spasms of agony.
“Shit! Doctor Franke, no…wait…” Giggling, she leaned over, preparing to swab the broken bone and tissue as the smell assaulting Piper’s senses sent warning messages to brace himself. “You bitch, that’s not antiseptic, that’s fucking…” she applied the swab, “…BLEACH!” With a sudden jolt of pain coursing through his kneecap, Ash Piper wrenched against the straps as he screamed in torment.
To Jurgen Falck and Fritz Kempler, the view of their Fuhrer and Fraulein Zeist in their powerful Were forms was truly a sight to behold. But of the howling, there was no sign, for their silence was still of such great importance. The four wolves, primed in their wondrous magnificence, shared their greetings, whining and tail wagging, their snouts rubbing one against the other. Their feelings of joy could not be suppressed, but for Otto Von Kurst, those same feelings of joy were now reaching new heights. Contentedly, Von Kurst curtailed his whining as the cool breeze blew his fur like waves across a gentle sea. As his magnificent wolf form faced south, towards the city of Koln, the other three wolves also ceased their greetings. He growled, so too did the others, not in anticipation of the hunt, but in a show of defiance. With a lowering of his powerful, majestic lupine head, his ears and whiskers twitching in olfactory delight, Otto Von Kurst prepared to lead his packmates southwards to their hunting territory, just as his own grenadiers were once again…preparing to strike!
“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE, YOUR WOUND MUST BE CLEANED, LIE STILL!” Lana Franke’s face contorted in anger, her gloved hands continuing her work, dabbing the bleach soaked, bloodied swab onto the exposed, vulnerable, broken pieces of Piper’s kneecap. The smell, so intense, nauseating, the pain, like shards of hot metal cutting through Piper’s flesh. She continued further, giggling, dabbing the swab, pouring more bleach, this time directly into the wound as Piper screamed again, his broken, disjointed kneecap now in agony.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD,” he yelled.
“God can’t help you in here, my darling.” The giggling receded, now Lana Franke laughed aloud, insanely, gripping Piper’s agonised kneecap and twisting it, wrenching, squeezing, the patient convulsing in spasms of unending agony.
He screamed again, squirming against the straps.
“That’s better…” the assault finished as Piper lay panting, exhausted, his lungs gasping for air as he tried to concentrate on anything except his current predicament. “Now,” the maniacal physician whispered, a terrible hint of sadistic menace in her voice, “I need to take a look at the Medial Meniscus.”
“You bitch!”
“Shut up!”
Piper fell silent; it served no purpose to goad her. He gritted his teeth and prepared…for further pain.
“Ah yes…” Doctor Franke continued leaning over Piper’s right leg, her bloodied, bleach-stained gloves preparing once again to enter the wound, only this time with just the surgical tweezers. “Do you know what the Medial Meniscus is, my darling?”
Go with it thought Piper, his chest rising and falling, his breathing, more controlled. “No Doctor,” he panted, “I don’t.”
She smiled, “there are actually two separate discs of protective cartilage covering the surfaces of the femur and tibia. They are called the Medial and the Lateral Meniscus.” Again, came the giggling, the fucking schoolgirl giggling, thought Piper.
“I can see your Medial Meniscus quite clearly,” she reached up and adjusted the theatre light, “yes, very clearly.” Slowly, ominously, Piper’s torturer leaned down with the tweezers and began picking, the patient screaming again and again, his body writhing, wrenching, trying to break free. But it was hopeless! The female physician probed deeper, pulling at her patient’s cartilage, picking, nipping. She reached for the bottle, slowly pouring its contents over the tortured muscle tissue, the bleach burning every nerve ending of Piper’s wound.
The patient screamed and kept screaming.
“Oh my darling, please, I’m only playing with you at present, this is just a little bit of fun!”
Again, Ash Piper writhed in agony, but this time, his anger and frustration could be held no longer. “YOU FUCKING, PSYCOPATHIC BITCH!” he shouted, his blue and amber eyes set with dire hatred.
The torment ceased.
&n
bsp; “What did you say?” Her voice was monotone, threatening, the look in her eyes, that of an insane woman.
Piper fell silent.
“WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY?” she yelled, “ANSWER ME!” In a state of furious rage, Lana Franke threw the tweezers across the theatre, her seething face lowering to his, her right hand gripping her agonised patient’s jaw. He strained against the grip as she suddenly smiled. “No,” she whispered, “no…I know what you’re doing! You’re goading me, aren’t you?”
“Go and fuck yourself!”
Slowly, she leaned down and kissed him, her eyes searching his, “such a wonderful show of bravado, my darling. You’re frightened aren’t you? Very frightened, you know you’re helpless, with the wolf inside you, being controlled…”
Piper’s heart sank, his feelings in turmoil. Again she talks of the wolf, he thought. But how can she control…?
“…and your friends, they must be so worried about you, but of course…they don’t know where you are.”
The damn bitch thought Piper, she’s draining my resolve, or at least trying too!
“Believe me Oliver, as of tomorrow,” menacingly, Lana Franke traced her right index finger across Piper’s chest, stopping to stroke his right nipple, “you will beg me for mercy. For tomorrow my darling, brings the beginning of your interrogation, and we have such a great deal to discuss, don’t we?” She tweaked his nipple, sliding her tongue down his sweat covered face, her hot breath, so close! “No darling, today I continue with basic treatments, just to soften you up, so to speak. At present I am not interested in who you are, or whom you work for, no…that comes tomorrow and believe me…you will talk, and you will scream, yell and struggle. Oh, my dear Oliver,” she kissed her patient again, gently, tantalisingly, “I am going to make you suffer, like no man has ever suffered. Now…it’s time for your first course of electro therapy!”
“If he has turned, then CEATA is at grave risk!” Commander Maurice Hertschell sat stupefied at his desk as Charles Mann nodded his head, “you think he has joined Von Kurst, don’t you Charles?”
“You know as well as I do Maurice, from our military viewpoints, we must presume the worst.” The Colonel paused. There was still a look of doubt in the Commander’s eyes, or was it just bewilderment. The two men had worked so hard on the formation of CEATA, and none more so than Maurice Hertschell.
“Perhaps we were fools Charles, we should have been more prudent with Piper.”
“So you agree with me then?”
The Commander sat back, an exasperated sigh slowly leaving his lips, “four of our best Followers dead, a total blackout of communication then Piper vanishes, along with Von Kurst and Oratz.”
“And don’t forget the imagery just before we lost contact!”
“Yes, I know.” The Commander shook his head in dismay, his memory slowly reliving the satellite view of Piper shaking hands with Von Kurst. “I still cannot believe what’s happened Charles. How could he do this to us?”
“This is a war Maurice, a war with no boundaries whatsoever. Piper must have felt a bonding; a feeling of being wanted, after all, these are human wolves we are talking about. God…I just wonder what else Von Kurst has got up his sleeve regarding the European Muslim Freedom Fighters.”
Maurice Hertschell’s gaze fixed rigidly on his friend, “I trust there is still no news of any further detonations?”
“No, none since the forty six earlier this week.”
Another sigh parted the Commander’s lips, “and we are just damned well sat here, waiting, fearing the worst.”
Charles Mann leaned forward, his expression stormy, “and with a damned rogue agent on the loose!”
This time he couldn’t scream. The gag made sure of it. It was punishment for answering her back. He had previously voiced his opinions while he yelled and writhed on the table, the humming from the electrical appliance echoing in the theatre. No, this time he had to be kept quiet, for her concentration had diminished, all because of his screams and his verbal abuse! He had fought courageously against her heavy-handed grip, trying hard to stop her from prying his jaws open, but she was strong, and totally in control. A woman demented, he’d thought as the thick leather straps tightened around his head, the ‘bit’ holding down his tongue.
The patient’s pain racked body continued to twitch, stretch and writhe again and again, much to the delight of the giggling physician, the electrodes having been thoroughly gelled and placed neatly on various sensitive areas of his body, except his genitals, which had surprised him. But none of that mattered now. All that did matter was trying to scream, to let out the feelings of torment coursing through carefully selected parts of his agonised, tortured form.
“Again darling…” Doctor Lana Franke turned the dial slowly clockwise, greatly increasing what she calmly called, ‘the flow of electro stimuli’. The voltage increased again and so too, the giggling, “oh darling, we’re having so much fun, aren’t we?”
The sound issuing from beneath the gag could have been mistaken for the squealing of a pig being slaughtered, the patient continuing to thrash against the straps, his torso bucking up and down then arching in agony, upward, towards the circular light.
It had been over two hours of torment, not that he had realised it. For him, time didn’t matter. All that mattered now was the will to live, the will to fight on. Suddenly, blessedly, the numbing, mind bending pain ceased, the physician stepping away from the machine controlling his agony as she walked calmly over to the twisted, pain racked man lying on the operating table.
Savagely, she grabbed her patient by his soaking, sweat drenched hair. “I’ve lost Otto, because of you, YES, YOU!” Her breathing was sporadic, her eyes on fire with detestation, “you…have ruined my life! Because of you, the man I…I…love, is with me no longer. HOW I HATE YOU!” Her hand lashed out at Piper’s face again, making him grunt under the gag. She pulled his hair tighter; slamming his head again and again on the hard headrest. “SUFFER, I WANT YOU TO FUCKING SUFFER, JUST LIKE I AM!” He grunted again, the gag preventing any form of speech. “It’s just you and I, my darling,” she whispered as Piper groaned again, “for as long as I wish, unleashing pain on your wretched form, for days, weeks, months. GOD YOU ARE GOING TO PAY!”
With a look of seething hatred set firmly on her attractive face, Lana Franke picked up the sponge and dipped it into the bowl, “let’s start again, shall we?” Piper moaned under the gag as his tormentor squeezed cold water over the areas of his body fitted with the electrodes. Sighing gently she returned to the apparatus, turning the dials again, his torso jolting, straining. “I have to admit darling, I’m starting to become very moist watching you suffer like this.” The voltage increased, so too, Piper’s spasms and screams. “Let’s see if I can bring myself to an orgasm while I continue your treatment.” The high-pitched squealing of the patient continued, so too, the whine of the electrical apparatus and amidst it all, the moans and sighs of a woman enjoying herself…immensely.
They continued to move quickly, efficiently, the four wolves, united in their strength. Their travels from outside the city, southwards, had been without incident, with the Fuhrer, the alpha male, taking the lead. As always they had moved in single file, avoiding human contact, at least for the present.
If their journeying had been in the depths of winter, they would have trod in each other’s paw prints, to conserve energy and cover their tracks. But the winter was long past. Now, the spring and summer had rolled into one, Von Kurst having already planned their weeklong route, to coincide with the farmlands of the Rhineland and the lonely tourist spots, where hikers and campers idiotically preferred to lay their heads for the night, before moving on. If all goes well thought Otto Von Kurst, and we continue at this pace, the hunt will begin tonight.
The sliding bolt from the outside brought an inner sense of dread to the pain racked man on the operating table.
“It’s time for another course of treatment my darling, then you can relax
overnight.” Doctor Lana Franke slowly, some would say erotically, snapped on another pair of latex gloves. “I want to toy with you a little further Oliver, then we can talk about tomorrow.”
There was no sound from Piper, only a stifled grunt, his breathing heavy, fear once again taking root inside him. The gag was still in place, the electrodes…removed. He was sweating profusely. How he wanted water, he thought…please…water! But none was forthcoming. His body ached, not just from the awful spasms she had enjoyed administering, but from the rigidity of his tightly bound form. How long had it been he thought, what day is it…what time…did it matter?
He had fainted twice during the electrical procedures, only to be awoken with a harsh slap across his face and cold water pouring over his aching, tortured body. The electrodes had worked well, sending him into terrible convulsions, his muffled screams becoming high pitched whilst she laughed and moaned, with pleasure. But what now he thought, dear God…what now? He started to struggle again as his beautiful torturer returned from the trolley, the bottle of bleach, cotton wool, and this time, a pair of pliers in her hands. She placed the three items on another singular tray next to her and poured the bleach onto a new swab of the cotton wool. Smiling, she moved to Piper’s side, up to where his hands were bound tightly to the corners of the table.
“I want you to scream again, Oliver.” Quickly, the physician gripped Piper’s right hand and opened the pliers, her terrified patient struggling again as he felt cold metal grip the tip of his right thumbnail. “Don’t worry my darling, once I’ve removed your finger and toe nails… I’ll bleach the wounds.” With a look of vile hatred set fixedly in her eyes, the demented physician gripped Piper’s hand, the pair of pliers, wide open.
As his thumb nail tore slowly from his flesh, Ash Piper screamed under the gag, his eyes wincing, tightening shut, his face grimacing, contorting in pain as once again Doctor Lana Franke slowly set to work.