This is my story and one I threatened to tell the whole wide world if I ever got out of the asylum. It's an asylum all right, an insane asylum. Let's not kid ourselves. Oh sure, okay, there's no bars. They don't need bars. They have chemicals. They do the work just as well.
Yes, this is the story I threatened to tell if they ever discharged me. No, I'm not a writer. Hell, yes, I can write... letters. I don't mean that I'm illiterate. No, nothing like that. It's just that I can put words together better when I'm talking than I could do in my notebook. So, that's the plain and simple reason I'm telling my story to my new friend who's sitting down close to me now and typing like a mad genius while I talk and sometimes I'm quiet for a long time while I'm thinking.
My friend doesn't mind. He's got all the time in the world. Yes, Mike's my friend. But he's also my slave. If you know what that means? Well, if you don't, then I'll tell you, and Mike's typing now just as I say it, as I tell him to.
He adores being my slave, doesn't he?
(Yes, he adores being Sandy's friend, and her slave).
Well, I'll get on with my story now that you've met Mike. There's plenty of time to tell you about him and me later, how we met and what our plans are for the future.
So, here it begins...
I was a nurse with the WAVES in Viet Nam. No, I don't mean a nurse with the U.S. Navy. I was serving with the WAVES who worked in Saigon; those are the navy gals who do most of the fleet clerical work, and it's one hellishly boring job.
I mean, being a clerk.
That's what Corrine was when I first met her, slaving away every day because she took her work so seriously, just as seriously as she took her sex life, which at first, didn't include me at all because I just didn't dig what she did.
I'll tell you about Corrine first, like now, right away, before I get on with the story about the hospital, which I'm sure will interest you.
Mike's typing like a demon now, trying to keep up with me. Christ, he's a beautiful guy! Really!!
Well, Corrine lived in this wonderful apartment near the river so crowded with Navy craft and the local gooks. What a view she had, sampans, houses on stilts, people living in rickety houseboats and thousands of naked kids floating and swimming in the polluted river.
The apartment overlooking all of this was a maze of small rooms. This first night after we drank a couple of whiskey sours my head began to swim. It was so god damned hot in the place we'd both stripped down to our panties and our brassieres but still perspiring.
Corrine's panty crotch was wet and this was from a combination of her pussy sweating and her creamy cunt juices collecting in the crotch of her silky panties.
Being a nurse I can tell a few things, and this is one of them. I've had a lot of experience with women's and young girls' pussies, let me tell you.
Mike's blushing!
(No, he's not.)
(Oh, yes you are!)
(You're making me horny. I've got a fever.)
(Shut up, Mike, and keep typing. Want me to forget what I'm dictating? huh?)
(No.)
So, anyway...
One of these rooms is crazy! Corrine told me she didn't use it much, NOT MUCH, and I sort of could see why. Originally it had been a Buddhist cell, a kind of prayer room with a very low, false ceiling and the walls were like normal except there was a stone facade, large blocks of crudely cut stone about five feet high. We both had to stoop when we entered through a thick wooden door that was very heavy to move.
There was no window but there was a strange weird light in this cell-like room.
"Christ it's hot as hell in here," I said.
She smiled at me, her eyes roaming candidly over my half naked body, her eyes now and then lowering down to my pussy hiding inside my thin panties. I, too, was getting moist. Something was very sexy about the whole thing. My large breasts began to throb as the odor of incense almost drugged me. It was hard to really breathe in there. I'll never forget that, nor what happened in the space of about three minutes.
"See that chain up there hanging down over the stone?" Corrine asked me, wiggling out of her panties without any explanation, and then sliding off the straps of her bra and finally taking this off, leaving her lovely body stark naked. I could smell her perfume, her warm moist pussy, that's how close the room was.
"That's where the old geezer who owned this apartment before I bought it from him with American dollars, kept his women.
See the other chains over there?"
I said that I did.
"That's where he kept the young men they flirted with on the street and brought home when they thought the old man was asleep or wasn't watching, but the old man never slept when she was out. He was always watching... as old men who collect pretty young girls do."
This really interested me, and something else, too. I felt my pussy steaming up and oozing as I watched Corrine as she explained all this in detail to me.
"Want to try the chains out to see how they must have felt, Sandy?" she asked me.
"It won't hurt, will it?"
"Oh, maybe a little, but you'll recover." She laughed. "I'll be your nurse for a change just in case it does hurt you, okay? Let's have a little fun, okay, Sandy?"
I slipped down my panties and Christ was I sopping wet. My pussy was dribbling and I felt the inside of my white thighs. They were sleek with my juices. What the fuck was going on with me? Then she suggested I may as well take off my brassiere too, and be as comfortable as possible. The drinks were now really going to my head. I felt dizzy and then giddy as I stood there all naked and perspiring, suddenly wanting her to do with me what she pleased I became so suddenly hungry for her (and didn't understand it at all) that if she'd asked me to run nude through the city streets, I would have done so instantly.
She backed me up toward the rough stone wall. She fondled my breasts as she did this. She kept her eyes lowered. Then she stroked my belly and then one hand cupped my hairy, sweating pussy.
Standing next to me she raised my wrists up to the chain way up over my head. My body was stretched up high and I could feel the clammy stone blocks against my bare bottom.
Then she tied the chain around my two wrists and she was so clever at it, I wondered if this was the first time she had ever done it.
My breasts, always so ripe and full and half the time stinging me when I get horny, which I was now, were thrust out and my nipples were already erect.
Corrine kidded me about this and squeezed my breasts as I sort of hung there, up against the stone blocks, rough and hard on my sensitive flesh.
It began to hurt. I could feel the strain in my upper arms. My breasts began to ache as she sat down on the floor in front of me. The odor of incense was strong and there was little air in the room.
"Then," she smiled up at me, her fingers trailing up and down my naked thighs, once her finger stealing between my pussy lips, "he used to tie the girls' ankles like this."
Corrine suddenly produced a narrow thin-linked chain about four or five feet long. She wrapped this chain around my one ankle, then around the other, drawing them together tight.
I complained, but Corrine assured me that when I couldn't take it any longer, she would release me.
I managed a smile. I remember this first experience with her and with bondage so well, that even now as I tell this to Mike, who's typing it all down, that I get hot in my pussy and my breasts want to be touched and stroked.
Well, there I was, really chained against the wall. Because the ceiling was so low I had to bend my head forward, my chin almost touching my chest.
"See, Sandy, that's how he'd chain these pretty girls up."
"Then what would he do to them?" I asked.
"Wait here a minute and I'll show you," she laughed, and I didn't like the tone of her laughter.
She vanished through the heavy wooden door and I felt faint. I needed another glass of whisky if I was going to hang helplessly like this. That was for sure!
I called out and she said 'okay' and then in about a minute which seemed like an hour, Corrine returned. She had two glasses with her and also what looked like a ball of leather string, about as thick as a boot lace.
Standing in front of me, she tied up my breasts with a piece of the leather cord, my full breasts being squeezed as she drew the thong tight about each breast.
Next she tied a piece around my waist and then another piece to this which she brought down and tied the end of it to the chain which was binding my ankles.
I couldn't move and the leather around my sensitive breasts began to hurt me. I could feel it cutting into my flesh when I'd try to move. It was hell in that position with my head bent down and my arms stretched so awkwardly in back of me. It really hurt! "Well, tell me what'd he do to them next?"
"This, darling, this," she exclaimed. She fell to her knees and buried her pretty face into my crotch.
I felt her tongue searching, wiggling, and then penetrating my pussy. Then I felt her teeth on my clitoris. I began to writhe and swivel my hips, that's how good it all suddenly felt.
And then, miracles of miracles, I felt my first orgasm of that long evening begin to build up inside my burning hot pussy...
CHAPTER TWO
That was the introductory lesson in a course they never teach you in nursing school, when you're in training.
She almost drove me out of my mind, my cut wrists and ankles where the chains were biting into my flesh, making me shiver and tremble, making my sweat pour out of my pores, drenching my breasts and my thighs as she licked and drained my juices.
My neck was almost broken. My belly hurt something terrible, because every time I'd twist and spin or thrust my pelvis forward to feel her stabbing tongue, the leather thong would cut into the soft flesh and the pain would spread all over my body.
She got on her knees and began to pull on my titties which were bound up so tightly with the piece of leather she had tied around each one. My nipples were bursting when her fingers pinched them. I could hear my own moaning every time I'd try to relax and enjoy her fingers and her tongue, the feel of her long dark hair brushing against my bare legs, the feel of her forehead when she'd rest it against my belly while her fingers scratched up and down the inside of my thighs, one finger teasing my clitoris as I gyrated my hips and arched my back to meet her tongue when she'd lower her head and keep her tongue out, just so it wouldn't make contact, teasing, tantalizing me as I moaned and heard my voice begging her to tongue my throbbing pussy.
Abruptly, Corrine sat back on her haunches, looking up at me. Her eyes were glassy. There was less air in the room than before. I was huffing and gasping for breath, my body weary and full of pain. I thought my arms would break off. My ankles were roaring with pain and each time I'd try to adjust them or change my balance the pain would shoot through my body like electricity.
But there's more to these early stories about Corrine and myself. I want to get back to the beginning...
Oh pure, you get your share of sex in Nam. There's one shithouse load of sailors and officers and marines and GI's and the gooks, and some are very good-looking and very, very well hung guys.
But then there's the war and I hated every fucking minute of it. But I did like my work. I worked in the hospital in the old French Quarter of the ancient city. A really beautiful place... in parts... that's those parts which were never hit during the times the French troops were there and since our guys came.
I worked in the hospital doing routine nursing jobs on the WAVES. I fell in love with one of them and that didn't last too long because Corrine was very jealous of me, my breasts, my posture, my little blonde pussy, and the way I'd fuck around with the other girls.
I was always promiscuous and I had no intention of stopping for Corrine, and she knew this, and that's just why our hot passionate relationship didn't last too long.
Maybe it was for the best, I mean, for Corrine but I now realize that it wasn't for the best for me. That's when my troubles really began.
The psychiatrists have gone back over and over and over my problems, why I finally cracked up and had to be flown back to the hospital in the states where I spent eighty-one days trying to let them 'restore my sanity.' That's what THEY called it! My sanity.
What I actually had was a really frightening nervous breakdown after Corrine left me. I couldn't sleep. I refused to eat. I took to drinking every kind of alcohol I could find. I didn't care whether I lived or whether I died and I also knew that no one cared.
I didn't have one single friend back stateside which I guess was the original reason for my joining the navy right after I became a registered nurse.
I had no real desire to work for a doctor or to stay in the hospital where I trained as a nurse on some ward. I did want to be transferred to intensive care, but there were no vacancies, and there wouldn't be any for a long while to come.
So, that's how come I went into the navy, and from there I was assigned to the WAVES, and not too much time passed before I opted for overseas service and shortly found myself in Nam.
At first I loved it. Then I hated it!!
Well, I suppose that's enough background for now. There's a few other things you might want to know about, like where I'm from and where I went to school and all of that shit, but it'll all come out in the wash, like they say.
(Won't it, Mike?)
(Yes, it will, Sandy.)
Oh, wow, I'm going to like dictating this story. Mike's such a nice dirty old man, and he loves me sitting so close to him here in his apartment where he took me after meeting me down at the airport. He likes me all cool and naked and my pussy hair all shiny after my nice long bath.
(Don't you, Mike?)
(Yes, I do, Sandy.)
So, I flew back with a bunch of Marine Corps guys who were really sick. Not wounded, if you get what I mean, well, not in action wounded. We have service names for these guys but I'm not going to bug you with stupid incidentals.
The hospital, or should we call a spade a spade, the nut house is in Palo Alto, California, and it's a country club if you're not off your rocker. If you are, it's nothing but an insane asylum, and don't you believe anything else.
It's loaded with all different degrees of nuts.
And for every patient there is some kind of person taking care of them, whether these are kitchen people, the medical doctors or the psychiatrists or the psychologists, or the guys who keep the grass trimmed and the swimming pool clean and the golf course neat and attractive.
So, you can imagine about four thousand people on the 'campus' as it's called; two thousand patients and two thousand 'staff.' And many of the staff, long-timers working out there, are far nuttier than any of us patients ever could be.
And some are totally out of their fucking minds. And many of these are attendants and some are the psychiatrists. It's no joke when people say that in order to be a good doctor, a good therapist, a good psychiatrist, you must be crazy.
Now, I want to tell you something very important.
This insane asylum at PA, as we call it 'affectionately,' is not what you'd normally imagine an insane asylum to be.
For example, there is only one ward where they put the hard-to-get-along-with nuts. These are nuts who have lost all of their apples. They call these patients schizophrenics, paranoids, catatonics; and then there are the organically mentally ill, people for whom there is little or no hope for getting better.
Usually you feel very sorry deep down in your heart for these people. There's nothing that medical science can do for them. They don't stay there very long. They go to state institutions just as soon as their sick families can make the necessary arrangements.
Then there are the dopers and the alcoholics. Many of these veterans of different wars are just as sick as the organic people. They never recover or really get better.
They get better maybe for a month or two or three and they leave, and then they come back and fit right into the old familiar pattern again. In and out, in and out!
Then there are those like myself. Nervous breakdowns that happened out in the war, or maybe not even in the war, but which happened while you're on duty with the armed forces.
And there are hundreds of these out there in PA.
And all of these veterans, male and female, like myself are treated with chemicals, medicines, all in pill or liquid form. And out there all the pharmaceutical companies experiment (at government expense) on the mentally ill veterans.
If the pills work, hooray! If they don't, it's too bad about that! 'Sorry 'bout that' was how we used to say it out in Nam when I was there.
So when I arrived, the doctor assigned to me, sent me to a special ward. It amazed me when I discovered that it was co-ed. I mean in the dayroom, and around. Of course, the girls slept at one end of the long ward (in the same room) but the men slept in the other. There were screens but they didn't help the privacy any.
On my ward there were also 'seclusion' rooms which weren't used very often. They were matted on the floor, walls and ceiling. No bars but a heavy door with a viewer in it. Nicely furnished but bare and stark at the same time. A foam rubber bed with no springs, no wood. Nothing inside the seclusion room that you could hurt yourself with.
There was a game room. A little restaurant which was pleasant. A visitor's room. And the staff cage where the nurse on duty and the two male aids held fort.
There was also the 'day' room with a TV, record player, card tables and loads of books and magazines. Of course, there were two different 'johns' and two different shower rooms. There was also a laundry room and a storage room, which figure in this story I'm telling... if only Mike would stop looking up my cunt and stroking his prick while I dictate to him.
I'm laughing now. You can't hear me, but I am, because Mike just blushed. Mike my slave, just blushed. See, I rubbed my hand over my hairy pussy when I said what I said and I drew my index finger through my pussy lips and Mike's never in his life typed such things as he's now typing, his prick growing fatter and longer as I stare at it now.
But he's my slave, and he's just going to keep on typing and not touch his cock the way I can see that he wants to.
(Is that right, my little slave--Mike's little.)
(Yes, Sandy.)
(Want me to chain you to the bed later, Mike?)
(Yes, Sandy.)
(Want me to whip your prick and your balls?)
(Yes, Sandy.)
(Type this--and he'll do anything... a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g that I tell him to!! or my little Mike gets his ass whipped, doesn't he?)
Mike's looking at me funny now. But as I talk, he typed. He knows better than to merely listen when I talk. He must MUST type everything like I say it, and when I read it later and it's not just exactly the way I want it, he gets punished.
(Doesn't he?)
(Yes.)
And when I read all of this over, I mean what I've said so far, and if I see even one single error, it means his backside's going to be as red as the rug on his floor.
(Do I mean what I say, Mike?)
(Yes.)
CHAPTER THREE
As I told my psychiatrist, and she'd hardly believe me half the time in the beginning, Corrine had a lot to do with my nervous breakdown.
No, it wasn't that I was weak spiritually. It was not that. Maybe she just overpowered me, realizing how hot I always was, and how sexually frustrated I was, and how I hungered for pain and didn't even know it.
One thing I can say is that my libido is fantastic and during those days in Saigon, I learned a great deal. At first I wasn't psychologically able to accept the fact, but when I say that Corrine was totally responsible for 'beating' it into me, I mean every word!
After that first adventure in the chains, I couldn't wait for another invitation to her strange apartment with the oriental incense burning day and night as if ghosts lived there when she wasn't home.
I remember now it was about a whole week later when she came into the ward and just stood there. She was wearing her stateside boots. These were made of very expensive leather, hand-tooled and came up to her knees.
The heels were more than fashionable and I could see the gook girls and the attendants staring at her with sheer adulation, their eyes caressing the smooth leather of her boots, the heels and the sharp, pointed toes.
I was busy sterilizing syringes but I put down what I was doing and went across the ward towards her. I felt strange. My breasts were jiggling and my pussy got hotter and hotter as I came closer to her.
Corrine's eyes stared into my eyes and I could see a glint in them that I'd not noticed before. For some odd reason, she looked more oriental than occidental.
She wore a Chinese blouse with many embroidered flowers, one large sunflower covering each of her nipples which I well remembered gaping at when she sat before me on the floor of the prayer cell while I hung up in the cruel chains biting into my wrists.
I remember how desperate I was to suck on them, and how she refused me, pushing my face every chance I took to lick them with my tongue, hoping to swallow her luscious nipples into my mouth.
Corrine smiled, or maybe it would be better to say that she grinned.
"Want to meet someone interesting tonight at my place?"
I caught my breath! I felt my spine tingling.
"Oh, yes, yes." I said, my voice cracking.
"Good. Be there at nine sharp!" she grinned again, and then half turning, continued to stare at me, her eyes roaming over my white nurse's habit, her eyes lingering on my hips, then slowly raising until they settled on my full breasts restrained by the brassiere we nurses had to wear.
"Better change into something more comfortable," she said, "It's going to be warm... again, tonight, Sandy."
My heart started thumping. My breasts began to smart as if they themselves remembered the leather thongs circling their fullness, pinching my swollen flesh, making them feel full and very hot.
Like they do right this minute as I dictate.
I must tell you one thing right away, and it might amuse you the way it amuses me.
Now Mike and I have a new arrangement because he'd been very very unhappy, poor boy, with our other arrangements.
Now he sits naked with his back to me so he can't see me. I sit up in a chair in back of him. I made him buy me a short leather whip with forked thongs. The handle grip is a beautiful work of art. It's heavy too, about the size of a seven-inch long cock and about as thick, too.
The twin tips on the end of the single leather thong are vicious looking, about an inch long each while the whip itself is only about three feet long. He found it in a second-hand shop in the city and I've fallen in love with it, especially the handle.
Mike's back's to me now. He sits naked in front of a small four-legged table where his typewriter is. He's sitting on what resembles a child's chair, close to the floor. His knees are bunched up and I'm sure he's very uncomfortable.
(I am.)
I just slapped him with the whip when he typed "I am" and he winced. I don't strike him lightly and already, since we adopted this new position, his back is laced with whip marks. I think it looks pretty. I like to sit back in my chair and just stare at his back and the curves of his buttocks as he sits there patiently and waits for me to think what I'm going to dictate to him.
I sometimes stick the handle of the whip deep up my cunt and wriggle it around. This excites me and Mike can hear my juices gurgling up inside my pussy.
(Can't you, Mike?)
He won't answer on the typewriter. He just nods his head.
I've also forbidden him to speak aloud. He hates this. But I like it when I'm thinking. I don't want any interruptions or advice from him when I'm thinking back about Corrine or about the hospital where I spent that time.
Oh, I'll get on with that part of the story soon, but I'm in no hurry at all. I like this set up, Mike's naked ankles lashed to the legs of the small table as he sits working his fingers to the bone, so to speak.
Oh, sure, now and then I give him a little breather. I stand up in front of him and tickle his prick with the twin thongs which resemble snake's fangs. His prick gets hard and starts to throb and the head gets a really crimson, purple like color and then when it's really rock hard and horny, I whip it for him and he closes his eyes.
I refuse to let him take his fingers away from the typewriter keys and he must always sit up straight. If he even slumps, then I tie the chain around his neck and lash it to one of the rungs of the chair on which I sit, and if Mike even moves his neck a single inch back, forward or to either side, the chain grips his Adam's apple and he starts to cough, and the more he coughs the worse he feels.
Another thing he hates me for is the cigarettes. I let him smoke only when I go into the bathroom to piss or to sit on the john and think what I'm going to write about next.
But he must be ready to start typing the minute I come out and sit. down.
And should he want to turn and look around at me, maybe to see if I put something on to cover my nakedness, or to see if I slipped into my spike boots or if he hears me chewing, to see what I'm eating, I simple give the chain gripping his neck a good yank and he moans and faces front, his back straight, his long girlish hair tumbling down over his strong shoulders.
Mike's nicely built. He's a very strong old man. I really like him. He's going to make a perfect slave. I've already got him used to doing personal things for me, and he bucks up now and then but my nice new whip takes care of that right away.
What he doesn't like at all is when I lash his arms to the chair and then stride all around him beating and whipping his prick and his thighs, his knees all hunched up, and then his chest and his back. He hates me for it and I can see he wants to get even, but he doesn't dare!
(Right, Mike?)
(Right.)
See, he just gives me one word answers, and that's what I like. He's getting trained, and between you and me, I think he likes it.
Well, now back to that night in Saigon when Corrine invited me over to her place the second time. Yes, just as she was leaving I looked down the corridor in the direction she would have to take to get out of the hospital.
I saw him immediately. It had to be him. The mere sight of him made me shiver all over. My breasts started to smart and my cunt got all wet. Christ, what a man.
He was a half-caste, and like evil monsters in horror books, his head was shaved. He was wearing a net shirt which exposed his rippling muscles. He was over six feet tall with huge biceps and I could see his powerful thighs straining the tight material of his trousers. He was barefoot.
His face was emotionless even when sexy Corrine came up to him. She looked up at him and he turned and she followed him around the corridor toward the hospital exit. His features were totally expressionless if you don't want to count the livid scar which ran down the side of his right cheek under the mandible to the top of his neck.
... if you don't want to count the snarl I saw in his fast eyes when he saw me watch Corrine's buttocks sway as she came close to him.
... if you don't count his thin, bitter lips, his wide, flaring nostrils.
When the giant and Corrine disappeared I hurried to the staff room where I kept a locker all my own. I felt my body trembling with both fear and joy of what was coming.
I undressed quickly. I was all alone. Because I was 'charge-nurse' that particular evening, I knew that I wouldn't be disturbed by any of the other girls on duty.
Standing stark-naked on the scale I weighed myself. One hundred and fifteen pounds of beauty from what I could see, firm ripe breasts voluptuous but not at all oversized or ugly, but swollen with pretty pink nipples and soft, smoothly rounded undercurves, spherical when I held my shoulders back and pendulous without really hanging down if I leaned forward to relax my titties.
I loved my pussy and my pussy hair. It was so soft and silky. My-pussy itself was narrow and virgin pink. My pussy lips were a soft crimson and just tinged with light brown the deeper in you looked. I spread them wide apart with my fingers and then bent backwards, my eyes studying my cunt. I could see it was already leaking. I felt it with my fingers, gradually stroking my clitoris and I trembled and shivered in anticipation.
Oh, little did I know, little did I realize what this evening in Corrine's place was going to bring.
As I think back now, I do remember hesitating, but the more I wanted to change my mind, the thought of her naked and those lovely cold chains and even the rough stones scratching my soft skin, and the remembered sensation of the thin biting chain around my sensitive ankles, the memory of Corrine sucking and licking my thighs and nibbling on my erect clitoris, the more I let my dreams wander the more aroused and sexy I felt.
I wouldn't miss this evening for a promotion to captain, I remember thinking and then showering and perfuming my entire body before I dressed in a long, silky Chinese wrap-around, and hastily left the hospital grounds and hailed a taxi to drive me to Corrine's place.
CHAPTER FOUR
As the taxi drove slowly along the banks of the Saigon river through the thick human traffic, past the luxurious floating restaurants and palaces in the French sixteenth century tradition, my naked body under the Chinese silk began to glisten with a strange perspiration.
I felt several deep convulsive motions inside my moist pussy. My breasts were rigid and my nipples stiff. My heart was pounding. I felt a curious deep ache in my crotch and I sensed rather than felt that my pussy lips were sticky and coated with my rich cream.
I couldn't chase the image of the Oriental's sinister eyes away. I began to think of, imagine his penis, how large and how long it might be, how thick his shaft was, curious as to whether he fucked Corrine.
Strange that she had never mentioned him to me! But, then was it strange at all? At this point in our relationship we were intimate physically, to be sure, but not in any other area.
A great part of Corrine's life was as mysterious as the East is inscrutable. I suppose that's what fascinated me, how lascivious she could be one minute and the next deadly serious, and the next, as if she were a goddess, her polished, moonshaped breasts round and ripe wanting to be touched, manipulated, her nipples fingered.
And then how to explain her enjoyment of pain and punishment. Much of this was quite beyond me at the time of our second assignation.
But what really fanned my imagination and made me pant and catch my breath as I paid and got out of the taxi was the giant Oriental I'd seen with Corrine at the hospital.
He now stood on the second row of steps leading up to the entrance to the stone house inside of which on the top floor was Corrine's apartment.
As I entered the tall iron gate, he bowed slightly from the waist.
"My name is Tan Ky San," he said, his lips scarcely moving. I saw he was wearing leather gloves. He was dressed much the same way as I'd seen him only hours before, but around his waist was a belt of chain, wide chain with heavy thick links. The buckle was an old-fashioned French lock which must have weighed at least one pound if it weighed an ounce.
I followed the giant into the house and up the iron staircase to Corrine's apartment. What surprised me was how clean it was since the last time I'd seen it. Everything was immaculate.
Inside the door the giant, Tan Ky San, kneeled down in front of me. As he did this, I looked down at his broad back partially hidden by the fishnet shirt he was wearing.
I could see six or seven vivid red furrows on the hard olive-yellowness of his flesh, one particularly scarlet streak running the length of his back from his neck down to where the fishnet shirt crept up around his waist.
His buttocks from my viewpoint were massive. I could also see the form of what appeared to be an immense prick pressed tight up against his stomach as he began to untie-the leather thongs of my sandals and remove them from my naked feet.
"Follow me," he asked, but there was no expression in his deep, brown eyes. I felt like a midget as I hurried along behind him and entered the main room of the apartment which I remembered.
I could smell the humid feminine odor of my pussy wafting up through the folds of the Chinese robe as I walked barefoot over to the couch where Tan indicated I might sit.
Saying nothing, he went into the kitchen part of the place and in seconds returned with a carafe filled with what I recognized as wine. With it, on a tray, were two glasses.
I was now sweating freely. My breasts were damp and I could feel droplets of perspiration forming between my globes and wetting the silky tendrils of my pussy hair. I felt more than one slight shiver pass over my entire body when Tan stood in front of me, his monstrous prick now fully outlined under his tight oriental trousers.
He saw my eyes appraise it and I imagined I saw his eyes glitter momentarily as they explored the folds of my garment, as they pierced through the silky material to visualize my full breasts and my pale pink nipples.
He tensed his supple muscles and then, without a word, vanished into one of the other rooms through a door I'd not noticed.
I couldn't get over the belt he wore. The chain must have been terribly heavy; it was about two inches wide and at least fifty inches in girth, I noticed that when he walked the heavy belt lock bounced gently against the head of his giant cock.
"Well, hello there, Sandy," said Corrine.
I had never seen her looking more ravishing. She was wearing an enormous chain around her neck. This resembled a halter in style. It locked onto her leather belt which encircled her very narrow waist, accenting her full breasts jutting out, so round and alluring.
I could see her stiff nipples pressing against the thin material of the kimono she wore. This garment reached down just to the top of her dimpled knees.
She was wearing spike high heels which made her lovely long legs lovelier to gaze upon. I could see her mossy pussy mound through the thin, wispy material.
"Thanks for asking me over," I smiled.
"Oh, you're so welcome, darling," she breathed, sitting close to me on the couch, When she crossed her naked legs the kimono opened and her white milky thigh was exposed.
God, was I horny then! My pussy cream was flowing. My breasts were itching me and tingling at the same time. I was so happy I'd decided to be naked under the gown I wore.
Almost immediately she began to kiss me on the lips. Her pink tongue darted between my open lips. Her tongue began to search and then linger on my tongue as her hands roamed over my body, her fingers trailing over my breasts, her breathing coming faster as she nibbled on my tongue with her white teeth.
"We're going to have a marvelous time together," she sighed when I began to play with her breasts through the gossamer material.
"And who is he? Who is Tan Ky San?" I asked, really excited now when I felt her fingers teasing and gently pinching my erect nipples.
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, darling. Do you like him?"
"Oh, my God, yes, I do," I heard my voice saying. "And he's built like a... like a... "
"... a bull, is that what you want to say?"
I laughed and lay back on the couch.
"Yes. God, what a penis!!"
We made girl small talk for about fifteen minutes during which time I admired her chain and the expensive kimono. Then we talked about Tan's chain and the huge, heavy lock.
"I want to show it to you in proper relief," Corinne said and then she snapped her fingers and, as with magic, Tan appeared instantly in the doorway.
"Bring me the basket," she said, and I noticed a distinct change in the tone of her voice. It was lower than I'd ever heard it, more husky, not the even tone I was accustomed to listening to.
"What are you going to do?" I asked excitedly.
"You'll see soon enough," she replied. Then she got up and crossed the room. She reached down into a locker and came up with a coil of thick coated wire.
"Christ, almighty!" I exclaimed.
"We're going to have a much better time than we had last," she said softly. With this she sat down next to me again and put her arm around my shoulders, her hand cupping my breast inside my gown, her fingers pressing my firm naked breasts, making my titties ache and my body shiver.
Tan stood silently in the doorway holding a wicker basket about four feet long.
He placed this down on a table close to Corrine. Then he stood in front of her and bowed, the light reflecting on his bald, shaven head. He still wore the gloves and this intrigued me.
Corrine reached over to the basket and her kimono opened wide. I saw her remarkably beautiful hairy cunt, even the lips, so pink and brown and even purple as she opened the basket and withdrew positively the most wicked-looking switch I've seen in my entire life.
A fever ran over my body. My breasts began to blaze at the sight of it. I felt flushed and my pussy began to glow and sweat profusely. My armpits were suddenly drenched with perspiration.
Corrine looked up at the tall giant. "Undress, Tan!" She looked at me and then she bent her head and stabbed her tongue quickly in and out of my open lips as I kept my eyes glued to Tan.
Corrine stood up now. When Tan took off the heavy chain belt and the lock and then his fishnet shirt and then dropped his trousers and stepped out of them, my eyes widened.
His entire body was a maze of screaming red and black weals, welts covering his lower belly, his outer and inner thighs down to his knees and calves which his trousers had hidden before.
His back and his buttocks, massive and strong, were laced with streaks still in the process of healing.
The scar on his cheek seemed more livid than before.
Corrine took off the chain around her neck. She slipped out of the kimono. Now, except for the spike high heels, she was stark naked. She posed for me and I wanted desperately to reach out and embrace her, to kiss and fondle and stroke her luscious body, but I restrained my impulses.
Corrine took the heavy belt chain that Tan had been wearing. She strapped it around her own slim bare waist, the lock falling right against her hairy pussy.
Oh, God, did she look ravishing!!
She merely looked Tan in the eye and he bent over the palms of his hands touching the floor, his huge blistered buttocks protruding.
"Now," said Corrine, "we begin the evening's festivities."
With these words she sent a withering blow across his buttocks, Tan shivering and screaming in wild pain as the stinging, ugly whip glutted his flesh, his naked body writhing in a frenzy which was almost embarrassing to me.
Now his eyes looked half crazed as he shrieked at the top of his lungs as the thud of the whip filled his huge naked body with tremendous spasms, as the whip etched glowing red streaks in his already lacerated flesh.
CHAPTER FIVE
The vicious flogging that Corrine administered was so brutal that at times the hissing of the switch made my blood curdle.
The anguish and the agony the Oriental was suffering at her hands was terrible to watch. He was quivering in blazing pain as she beat him frantically across his bloody buttocks and between the crack of his massive buttocks.
When the wicked end of the switch would strike his enormous balls and his frightening large prick, Tan would howl with pain, the whip smothering his bruised flesh, then cutting deep into his broad back.
At times Tan Ky San was whimpering, then screaming, one more glowing line appearing as he twisted and arched his bent over body, never taking his palms off the floor, his huge giant body swaying in severe pain as she whipped him, a diabolical gleam in her wide eyes, Corrine's breasts jiggling and her body now covered with hot sweat as Tan howled insanely, his prick bursting and now so fat and long and hard the mere sight of its power was driving me mad with lust!
Corrine applied the hideous whip to his prick then and when she saw me staring, my mouth wide open, my lips dry, my cunt now exposed because I just couldn't resist pawing my clitoris as I watched the insane torture, Corrine suddenly halted.
She sat down. Tan didn't move. I could see droplets of red blood forming in the streaks the switch left all over his naked body.
"Do you want a turn at him?" she said, breathing heavily through her nose, "or do you want to do something else?" She had a small, knowing grin on her pretty lips. She licked her lips and at the same time her eyes led my eyes to his throbbing cock.
"Something else," I managed to say.
"I'll make him fuck you, if you don't mind getting all messy with his blood," Corrine said quietly.
"Oh, yes, that... but first I want to do something else," I remember saying. I stood up and took off my Chinese robe. Now I was naked and the cool air contacting my warm, moist body made me shiver.
"Make him stand up," I asked her. You see, I felt it better that Corrine remain his mistress.
And, as he did, his huge, monstrous prick loomed out from his stomach. It was so taut, the very size and immensity of it staggered me.
I wanted desperately to kiss it. I don't know why. But I did. It was covered with splotches of his blood. The monster cock had a thick base like the trunk of a young pine tree and it vanished into a forest of deep black pubic hair.
The knob end of his cock was fantastic! The lacerations across his balls and his bleeding thighs made the picture all the more interesting to me.
"Go on, do what you want to do," Corrine urged me, running the bloody end of the switch over her own pussy, then spreading her thighs wide apart and raising one knee high up so she could insert the handle of the switch deep up her hungry restless cunt.
"I want to watch you make him happy for a moment or so, darling, and then I'm going to punish him for letting himself be happy!"
As I fell down on my knees, I wondered if Tan could sustain any more torment. His chest was bleeding and the weals across his stomach were horrible to look at.
I cupped his heavy, hairy balls and then with just the tip of my tongue, I licked them. They were sweating and hot as my tongue touched. I kissed them and then I licked all the way up his thick, rigid staff to the tip, covering my mouth over it and then sucking it deep in and out as Tan Ky San began to moan and gyrate his hips in rhythm to my sucking mouth.
Oh, how good his huge cock felt as my cool tongue curled around the head of his giant cock, as my teeth nipped down at his balls and then chewed up and down the length of his fantastically long penis.
Tan had his huge, gloved hands on his hips now as I tongued the tasty blood on his thighs. I never had really tasted blood before. It was driving me crazy with passion. One ecstasy after another swept over me, chilling me to the bone.
I held onto his naked buttocks. I could feel them getting wet and sticky from his oozing blood as I kept sucking and kissing and licking his cock.
Out of the corner of my eye was I also watching Corrine. She was lying back, both her long naked legs raised up. Her thighs were wide open now and her hot pussy was bleating.
I had a fantastic desire to suck her cunt. And why shouldn't I? I thought to myself.
And this was what did it!
I turned and crawled away from Tan. I bent my head and kissed Corrine's high spike heels. I began to touch her ankles when suddenly I felt as though I had been lifted ten feet off the floor.
Tan was standing over me. He had picked up the chain which Corrine had discarded from around her neck. This was what struck me so brutally over my bare buttocks, forcing my entire body forward so fiercely that I bumped my forehead on the edge of the couch.
Then another swack with the stinging chain and my bottom was on fire as he kept swinging it and swinging the chain, inflicting one biting wound after another.
Corrine gripped my wrists and held me as I tried frantically to escape. Her grip was like that of a vise. I never realized she was this strong. I looked up at her but her eyes were half lidded and the next thing I knew she was pushing my face into her hairy crotch.
Then, I sensed rather than saw her pass the evil switch to Tan. But I felt its effect in brief seconds, Tan wielding the switch all over my buttocks and my outer thighs, the switch agonizing my flesh, scourging my belly when the thongs at the end of it would snake under my belly and snap cruelly at my cunt lips.
Then, as suddenly as the attack began, it ended. But when I tried to raise my face out of her slimy, hairy crotch, I felt my ankles being tied and her grip on my wrists was like steel.
Oh, God, what was happening??
The next thing I knew my thighs were being tied with the coated wire I'd first seen in Corrine's hands. The wire bit into my flesh. I cringed when I next felt a firm slash on my buttocks, then again and again as I began to writhe and tried desperately to escape the vicious blows of both his palm and the agonizing switch.
I could hear piercing screams coming out of my own mouth as Corrine tried to muffle the sounds by forcing my face and my mouth deeper between her opened hot thighs.
And then again the torture stopped!
Then I felt it. His monstrous prick! He was on his knees in back of me, his prick poised at the entrance of my tight, virgin asshole. Oh, God in Heaven, was all I could think when I felt the head of his cock trying to penetrate my anus.
It would never fit. I tried frantically to get away but Corrine held me tight. I couldn't move my ankles at all. My thighs were locked together by the coated wire.
Corrine was thrusting her cunt at my perspiring face, the odor of her now animal like and I could taste her hot juices all over my lips and my tongue. I tried to find her clitoris among the folds of her delicious pussy but I wasn't successful, because she was rotating her hips and arching them and thrusting up and back as I struggled to catch my breath, still feeling the enormous cock trying to gain entrance.
Oh, how I wished he would fuck my cunt, but he seemed determined to jab his huge monster cock up my ass and my body was quivering and trembling and my mind was racing as my face was smothered between her firm thighs, my nose all clogged up with her steaming cunt juices.
Then Corrine pushed me away. She began to slap my face violently, moving my face from side to side as I kept opening and closing my eyes. I felt suddenly dazed, almost limp.
Tan stood up behind me. He was jerking and pulling on his huge prick. He was aiming it at my face. He stood there, his huge strong legs astride, his hairy balls swaying as his hand pumped his prick up and down, his huge gloved fingers curling around his cock as he began to grunt and moan, Corrine staring at the head of his cock... waiting... waiting...
"Back up, Tan," she said abruptly.
He did, bowing slightly. Turning my head to look up at him, at his towering prick, I could see blood oozing from his lower belly. One huge wide swath of red covered his thighs and blood was also trickling from several vivid weals on his broad chest.
"Tie her arms now, Tan."
"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, wide eyed.
"You'll see, darling," was all Corrine said. She stood. The huge lock covering her pussy fell into place.
She made me put my arms behind my back. She used the coated wire to bind my wrists. Then she wove several strands of wire around my breasts, drawing the coated wire tight over my stiff nipples.
Then she tied the chain she had around her neck, around my neck, and yanked it tight, almost choking me in the process. Then she forced me down so that my face was placed between her high heeled feet.
She took the switch and stood over me, closer and began to flick it over my back, the ends of it cutting into the soft, tender undercurves of my hanging breasts.
Oh, how this hurt, but oh how passionate it was making me! I kissed her heels ravenously. My cunt was ready to explode. I could feel Tan's huge cock again. It was prying open my asshole. Then I felt the head of it lunge against me, pushing me forward against Corrine's feet, Corrine parting her heels slightly and then clamping my chained neck between her ankles.
All I could see were her stiletto heels and all I could feel was the head of Tan's enormous cock trying desperately to penetrate, to pierce my virgin anus.
The whip began to flick more viciously!
I could feel my flesh boiling. My cunt was now like a cauldron, fuming and liquefying as the switch in Corrine's hand began to agonize my buttocks at the same time I felt the impossibly large head of Tan's cock sink in about one inch.
I shrieked in pain! He began to punch his cock at me, the same time the whip trouncing me, my brain whirling and my body melting as his sparking prick sank up deeper into my crucified asshole.
The strikes rained down. I felt deadened. My body was numb. I could hear the swishing and hissing. I could feel my armpits dribbling sweat and my cunt throbbing as the switch stung and sizzled all over my bound-up body.
CHAPTER SIX
Mike's typing what you're reading now with one hand. I mean two fingers or maybe three. And there's a good reason for this!
I've got his right hand tied behind his back! Mike was a very bad boy, very bad! Just after I finished dictating to him what you've just read, before I got up and went into the kitchen to make myself a drink. You see, Mike doesn't drink.
When I returned I caught him jerking off his cock while he was rereading what he'd typed. Oh sure, he explained that just reading it made him horny as hell. So, I said to myself, I said what's wrong with this, and, and I thought, hell, shit, a lot was wrong with it! He hadn't asked me permission to masturbate, had he? No, he had not!
And this was one of the firm rules of our new friendship, that is, that he didn't do anything sexual to himself or to me without first asking permission.
I decided this was the best way to train him. He didn't seem to mind when we discussed the whole business about my coming in to live with him and make a whole bunch of money by working part-time in intensive care unit at a local hospital where I was paid as much for four half days a week as other nurses made all week long emptying bedpans and taking temperatures and superintending medicines and changes of surgical dressings.
But we had to have some rules. One was that he didn't leave the house and worked on his play every day when I was working. The other was that he did the simple chores around the apartment--hell, he was doing them himself before I hit the scene.
But you know, they say that women are fickle. Hell men change their minds just as often, and Mike is no excuse, no different.
So, little me, the nurse-weakling (ha ha!) has to force him now and then, right, Mike?
(Right.)
But that wasn't all he did. He refused to take his hand away from his prick and I had to slap him. This started a kind of free-for-all which I wouldn't put up with. He made me really mad at him!
He wanted to get down on his knees and suck my pussy and my asshole, thinking about Tan Ky San fucking me up the ass. I wouldn't let him do this and when he grabbed me tight around the knees from the back and threatened to trip me over if I didn't open my buttocks for his tongue, I just backed up roughly into his face and he fell over backwards.
Mike's so little. I guess I told you this before. Did I, Mike?
(Yes, you did, Sandy. You told them.)
Well, poor Mike struck his head on the end of the desk and there was just a little blood, and for reasons known only to my psychiatrist, I felt my pussy surging and fuming suddenly--just at the sight of his blood.
I couldn't control myself. Like a vampire I went at him. I felt sorry for him a little but at the same time, when he began to moan and touch his sore head, I began to enjoy the pain he was suffering.
I got him a drink and he almost gagged on the strong whisky. Just a little whisky is enough to drive Mike into drunken fits.
He came around slowly. I felt for his pulse and it was okay, just a bit on the high side, but nothing dangerous.
That was when he slapped me across the face. I winced and flinched but his hand struck my left cheek again. Then belligerently he knocked the glass I was holding right out of my hand.
"You've done enough!" I heard myself shouting, but Mike, my little weakling Mike, was now standing, his prick sticking out straight. There's something about Mike's prick that fascinates me. It's big sometimes and then it's not at all. It can shrink to almost nothing, and this happens when he's 'thinking' or talking when he should be concentrating on his cock which I really like to see him stroke, but only when I'm in the mood, understand?
I got real mad and kicked at him, but he dodged my bare foot. This was when I made a fist and really clobbered him, and I didn't realize my own strength. He fell over backwards a second time and this time he really bumped his head on the end of the desk, but it was a solid bump and there was no laceration.
My cunt was on fire now and my pussy itching.
I must admit that while I was dictating the story about Tan Ky San and Corrine, I was getting hotter and hornier. I do admit to playing with my clitoris as Mike's naked back was turned to me as I remembered the delicious sensations that followed my first ass fucking.
... how Corrine began to kiss my breasts as I remained on my hands and knees.
... how Tan pumped deep up and down inside my hot, virgin asshole.
... how my cunt was leaking and how good Corrine's long tapered fingers felt as they roamed up and in and out and all around my throbbing pussy while the huge oriental prick jabbed and pierced my anus.
... how dripping wet and gushy my cunt was... how I could smell the mixed combination of my ass odor and the aroma of my pussy when Corrine got under me and faced Tan's prick as it stormed in and out, the sinister Tan snorting like a wild animal as his prick vanished and then reappeared; and when it came almost all the way out of my burning asshole, the pain not as severe now, Corrine took the staff of the lubricated horny cock and jerked it and then, bending closer to lick his balls and the base of his prick as he ass-fucked.
My cunt and asshole were both cooking now as the delicious erotic waves of passion swept over my whole body.
I so desperately wanted to eat Corrine's cunt as the prick smashed up into me, me bucking back on it and loving the pain now.
Even though I was all bound up, the pain would ebb and flow. Sometimes there would be no sensation but that of sheer ecstasy; other times the pain and the suffering torment would be insane and I could hear my voice pleading for Tan to stop, for Corrine to stop pinching my belly and my breasts as the huge prick reamed my asshole.
My wrists and ankles were burning from the tension on them. I could hear my asshole gurgling when the prick would suddenly pull out, only to lurch back in and then when Tan began to come, I thought all hell would break loose inside my bowels.
I needed to shit in the worst way. My sphincter muscle was opening and closing hungrily as the prick churned and stabbed.
And then, when Tan finally exploded, I felt a bucket full of hot thick sperm burst into my ass channel.
His stiff tool was pumping and pumping and Corrine was squealing every time his cock would leap up and discharge deep up my convulsing asshole, Corrine's tongue and teeth continuing to tease and lick and bite my flesh, especially my nipples.
At one point just after Tan began to shoot off, Corrine's teeth bit my nipples so hard I screamed and this very scream had a kind of chain reaction and that was what actually prompted Tan Ky San to blast off his cock up my steaming asshole.
These are some of the intimate, sensual interludes I experienced that night. All in all, this is what excited little Mike to gather up his energies and want to suck and bite me and jerk his prick off at the same time.
And oh, that kick! And I don't believe I've ever kicked any man or thing as hard as I kicked Mike. I heard him gulp, then try to swallow as the breath in his lungs rushed out of his open mouth. His eyes looked glassy.
I couldn't resist. I ran into the other room and returned with a ball of heavy wrapping twine. This twine was cutting thin, yet very sturdy.
From my vast experience in nursing I realized that Mike wouldn't be out of it for long His breathing was shallow, and that was the signal. Soon it would resume its normal rate so I had to act fast.
(Don't you love typing this now, Mike? Now you'll know what happened to you).
He doesn't answer me, but that's okay with me.
So, I bound up his wrists first. Then I got him into a sitting position, his naked back against the front of the chair. Then I got the shiny, new hassock under his bare buttocks.
His body was easier to move around this way. All I did was push the hassock round when I wanted to work on his back, and then perhaps turn it to the side, any way I wanted.
I grabbed his wrists from under between his legs. I pulled them back. Then I took another double piece of the twine and tied the wrists to his ankles. This upset his balance and he almost pitched forward off of the hassock.
I ran a piece of the twine up between the crack of his ass cheeks. I tied this to another piece which I ran around his neck.
Then I tied an extra long piece of twine to his long, flaccid prick, then two or three turns around his hairy balls. I like Mike's balls. They're always changing shape when I stare at them. He likes me to stare at his balls, doesn't he?
(Yes.)
Oh, so he answers that, and for good measure, here!!
I just whipped his ass for answering me.
Then I rolled him over on his back and he looked perfectly grotesque in this awkward, uncomfortable position, bent almost in half, his bound wrists rubbing against his prick and balls and being strained further when I tugged on the twine to make it secure to his leather belt which I put around his waist, drawing it up tight to the last hole.
I can't describe the thrills racing through my naked body. I was suffering a nightmare of passion as I teased his bound genitals, heightening every sensation his subconscious was feeling as I began to twitch his balls and pinch his prick at the base, wanting him to regain consciousness now so he could realize what I had done to him, and also, so that he'd be alive to what was going to be done to him.
But he wasn't responding. Again I took his pulse.
It was racing wildly, madly.
I couldn't help myself then. I went crazy! My cunt and asshole were aching. My breasts were swollen. My nipples were stinging me as I began to slap his body all over with my open palm.
Then I saw one of those expensive collapsible umbrellas near the door. That would do nicely. I began to strike his buttocks with it, then his balls and finally his prick. One strong vicious stroke of the umbrella and he rose up into consciousness, bucking and screaming as I beat him again and again, his cock leaping up passionately and growing harder by the second as I whipped and stung his genitals with the umbrella.
CHAPTER SEVEN
And that scene which I just described, brings my thoughts back to the hospital at Palo Alto... and some of the wild stuff that went on out there with the nurses and the aids and the attendants.
I'll never forget one terrible morning the pains circulating all over my body, horrible, digging, stabbing pains from my ears down to my toes, each one of my toes tied with a long piece of thin leather, there ten pieces of leather stretched out and tied again to ten equal iron weights that fell into midair over the end of the long medical examining table they had strapped me to.
I could never forget that morning.!
It started out innocently enough on a Saturday morning when the staff took most of the patients on the ward out on a picnic in the nearby woods.
I was recovering from a severe common cold, bordering on the flu and also a runny nose which would give me little or no peace at all. I had been kept awake by coughing all Friday night and when morning came I was a total wreck.
I had lost weight everywhere except in my breasts. They were as full and as rich as ever. I must say here that the guys on the ward went mad over my titties when they'd catch a glimpse of either my cleavage or the ripe fullness of my breasts when I'd draw my flimsy hospital gown tight over my body to arouse and excite them Oh, yes, I guess that my bottom was okay. I was just thin in my arms and my waist. That's where I always lose it first when I'm losing it.
About ten o'clock, the ward was very quiet. I went to pee and it was then I saw that the main door to the ward was locked and the sign turned on, indicating to anyone wanting entrance, that the ward doors would open only on the hour, every hour, and no amount of banging or ringing (except in emergency) would call one of the three attendants to open the heavy metal door.
The ward was locked only when one of the patients threatened harm, or there was the possibility of an unauthorized 'elopement' which in a word means leaving without authorized permission.
Mr. Alfred was the head attendant. The nurse on duty was Miss Baker and she was a shrew in every sense of the word.
But she could be sexy as hell at the same time. At first I didn't like her, but as the weeks passed I began to feel a crazy kind of attachment to her, especially her body dressed in street clothes.
Miss Baker was about twenty-seven years old. She wore her hair long when she was off duty, but when she was working, dressed in starched white and sensible shoes, her hair was braided up on top of her head, her nurse's cap perched on the very top.
She had large, handsome breasts, full and always swollen, When they were strapped inside her brassiere they seemed to nudge each other when she walked around and did her chores on the ward.
But when she came to work, they were always free of any restriction and I loved to watch her hurrying down the shiny corridor, her huge breasts jiggling and her strong, firm buttocks (no girdle) swaying sexually.
Oh, Miss Baker knew what she was doing to me. She damned well knew. I'd see her eyes flit into mine when she'd vanish into her office, glancing over her shoulder should I just happen to be walking down the corridor to either the game room or the day room where I was spending more and more time reading.
My cunt would get warm and moist thinking about Miss Baker undressing, taking off her marvelous leather boots, her skirt and then the pantyhose she wore. I could visualize her lovely heavy breasts. I could see her wide circular nipples in my imagination.
If no one was in the dayroom, which happened a lot, I would sit in one of the darkened corners and reaching inside my hospital robe, I'd play with my pussy lips and then I'd feel my cunt getting soppy wet. I'd tease and pinch my clitoris and then hunching my knees up, I'd insert one or two fingers and finger fuck my hole until I would begin to shiver and shake and my orgasm was building up inside my entire body, my breasts hot and throbbing, even my toes twitching and feeling pins and needles up my cunt and up my asshole when suddenly the orgasm, like a brilliant light, would explode and I would tremble and moan and cry out, muffling my noises in the lapel of the thin, cotton bathrobe.
And, this is just about what happened this particular Saturday morning I'm talking about.
Oh, yes, my little Mike is being a very good boy today. He's not about to forget the whipping he received because he realized another can come just as expertly as the one which made him suffer.
"That's right, isn't it, Mike?
(Yes, Sandy, that's right.)
The light in the dayroom where I was sitting in the corner was soft. For the first time in several weeks I was completely alone in the dayroom. There were only three of us who didn't go on the outing, and the other two gals were sound asleep down in the seclusion rooms at the far end of the corridor.
I saw Miss Baker brush by the door of the dayroom on her way in. Her long hair was down to her waist. She was wearing lurid eye makeup and a low cut blouse only partially covered by her raincoat. She was carrying what looked like an evening purse, you know, just for mad money and her keys.
She also looked a bit hung over, as though she'd been out to a party, drinking all night long. I'd heard many stories about the way Miss Baker drank and this time, however, was the very first time that I believed any of them. She was wearing a sleek pair of leather boots. When the raincoat flashed open, I caught just the suggestion of bare flesh above the delicately stitched tops of the boots which reached up to her mid thighs.
The sight of this really excited me! I dug my fingers deep into my vagina as I memorized the delightful view and it was only seconds later, when she vanished down the corridor to change, that I felt my orgasm sweeping over my entire body, my ass squirming in the deep chair, my cunt throbbing, my clitoris burning with a new kind of frenzy. I clamped my eyes closed and tried to imagine Miss Baker totally nude in her office, striding around in her beautiful black leather boots.
Oh, I was thinking to myself, if there were only some way I could be in there with her. But I knew this was impossible. Miss Baker paid me very little attention, and what attention she did give me, was strictly professional, nothing else.
She always called me Miss Rhul, nothing else.
After my orgasm I wrapped my robe close around my naked body and went down to the visitor's room where I wanted to listen to some music before I sat down with my book and spent the morning-reading. Since coming back from Viet Nam I had developed a ravenous appetite for both books and food. I loved to read out there at PA and know that a good, nourishing lunch would be served at noon.
But this particular noontime I was going to have something else for lunch. I confess that as I sat down in the visitor's room, I had no idea what was going to be on the menu.
There was a soft knock at the door. Then it opened. I knew immediately that it had to be one of the staff, because for the most part, the patients on the ward just walked in impolitely. One thing I'll say is that on the surface while I was out there in PA, the staff was always very polite.
It was Mr. Alfred, the head attendant. What on earth could he want, I was wondering when he came in the door silently.
Mr. Alfred was jet black! He walked like a cat even though he was over six feet tall with huge shoulders and very strong, agile arms and legs. His reputation always preceded him, and he was a man to be afraid of if you were ever out of order, or if you disobeyed any of the rules at Palo Alto.
But, because most of the violent patients were subdued on Librium, a sedating drug each of us took about three times a day to relax us so the psychotherapy could reach us, Mr. Alfred's great strength and his animal cunning were seldom needed to control any of the patients.
The females on the ward, in particular, were deathly afraid of him!
"Miss Baker would like to see you in her office, Miss Rhul," Mr. Alfred said softly, his deep voice a soft purr.
To me, Mr. Alfred always seemed to be sailing aloft on some special drug all his own. His deep black wide eyes were always clouded. He was always playing with his fingers or the lobes of his large black ears. He wore his hair very close to his large skull. Sometimes, and especially at night when he was on duty, he looked sinister and dangerous; ominous, might be a better word.
He always walked, as I said, with the tread of a great black lion as he would make his rounds on the ward and down and back to the seclusion rooms when he was on night duty.
"Thank you, Mr. Alfred," I said. I gathered my robe close about my body. I tightened the belt and walked slowly down the corridor in the direction of Miss Baker's private office.
"Come in, Miss Rhul," she said in answer to my soft knock.
My eyes popped right out of my head!
Except for her gleaming black leather boots with white thong leather laces running from the side of her knees up to the mid thigh length of the boots that I hadn't seen when she came in from the party or whatever, Miss Baker was totally naked.
Her long dark hair cascaded down over her white shoulders, almost covering her firm lush breasts, hiding her large nipples.
But what fascinated me most during those early seconds were her thighs, so round and milky white, and her pubic hair covering her vee with a thick fuzz, curly and growing in rich abundance, one thin hairline running from the apex of her magnificent triangle up to her indented belly button.
"I want you to do me a favor, Miss Rhul "
"Yes, Miss Baker, what can I do?"
"You may think it's a little irregular and I trust you to be discreet."
"I can be discreet," I answered, reminding her that I was also a trained nurse.
"Well, I must confide in you," she said, a tiny grin lighting up her features as she sat down in her chair behind her large office desk.
I was aghast! What could she want from me?
"I want you to bring my blood to the surface," she said, opening the desk drawer and taking out a short blackboard pointer she often used when she instructed the student nurses who trained for psychiatry on our ward.
Could Miss Baker mean what I thought she meant?
She did. She got up and then got down on her hands and knees in the center of her office.
I began to strike her lightly with the whip on her rounded, white buttocks. She didn't move a muscle, her hair hiding her pretty face as I began to strike with a rhythm I had learned from Corrine back in Nam.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I don't remember when the passion took over. A series of vibrating thrills began to seep in and then grow, ever increasing and at the same time I felt an exquisite pain in my crotch.
I couldn't take my eyes away from the beautiful white body before me. Miss Baker rose up on her knees as I slapped the blackboard pointer against her smooth sensitive flesh. She began to lick her lips. I could see her tongue swiping across her open mouth, her tongue licking and once, when I slapped her extra hard, her tongue curling inside her cheeks and then sticking out again and then her head turning to glance around at me as I stood in back of her, the whip-like pointer raised high for another slap.
"Strike me harder," Miss Baker murmured, her long hair swinging from side to side, her naked breasts jiggling, her nipples now erect and stimulating me as I stared at them, at the soft undulating movement of her delicious breasts.
She turned to look at me. Her eyes were soft.
"Miss Rhul," she said softly, "have you ever done this before?"
"I didn't know where my thoughts were. I didn't know whether to tell her the whole truth or not. I was really in a quandary."
"No," I answered, deciding to lie to her. Oh, yes, of course I knew that she had access to my medical and the psychologic records, but I suddenly didn't care what secrets she knew about me, what part of my history she was familiar with.
"Then use the pointer like a whip as it should be used," she said. She surprised me when she stood up right in front of me. Her boots fascinated me. The contrast with the shiny black leather and her milky white skin was exciting.
I felt a desire to kiss her boots. The way I'd kissed Corrine's boots in Nam; memories of Corrine kept sneaking into my thoughts.
I heard her voice. I knew what she wanted. I felt her hunger. I knew that Miss Baker wasn't all that met the eye. She was perverse. I could feel it.
"A little harder, dear," she sighed when I slapped the rounded pointer across her bare buttocks. She didn't flinch. She didn't look at me. Her hands were clutching her full breasts now as I struck again and again.
"Harder!"
This time her head swung around and her eyes beamed into my eyes. "Harder, Miss Rhul."
Was I getting myself into trouble?
I struck with half strength and she winced at the impact of the pointer. A red weal began to appear when I struck the same spot again.
Miss Baker bent over. Now her lovely white buttocks were in the proper position for me to aim the pointer.
"Use your open palm," she said, her voice now low and throaty, her hair falling down over her face as I wielded the pointer at her reddening flesh. I would stroke her glorious ass globes first then I'd raise the pointer and slash down with all my strength and Miss Baker would squeal and then moan as the pointer would slash and bite into her tender flesh, tiny welts appearing here and there.
"Use your hand, I said!"
I put the pointer down and standing on the side of her, began to spank her buttocks, first the right and then the left, my palm flying and hammering on her ass cheeks, Miss Baker moaning now each time I'd raise my hand and then lower it, alarmed at the patch work of red hand prints my palm was leaving on her body. She bent forward even further from the waist.
I stood in back of her and admired her beauty. Her thighs were milky white and full and strong. I could see just the whisper of her pussy hairs in her crotch. I loved the flow, the symmetry of her buttocks and the soft curves of her thighs.
I began to slap her even harder now. She began to rock to and fro as my hand slapped and beat her flesh.
She began to squeal when my open palm would repeat a blow in the same spot. Then I'd carefully snip at her thighs with my fingers, then my palm again, then my open fingers thrilling against her sensitive skin.
By now my pussy was flaming. The lovely, so lovely sensations I was experiencing in my pussy were making my cheeks glow. Never had I felt as passionate as now, my palm stinging me whenever I'd slash it into her fleshy bottom, her body wriggling and a familiar ecstasy sweeping over her as I continued to beat and spank her.
"You're doing fine," she sighed, her hands on her knees, her body bent over from the waist, her buttocks so alluring and slowly turning a bright crimson as I slapped and then began to pinch between each blow.
"I like when you pinch, Miss Rhul," she said, and then she slowly settled down onto the floor on her hands and knees, pushing her behind high up in the air.
I kneeled down behind her. I felt a tremendous urge to kiss her voluptuous buttocks, but I restrained myself.
I picked up the blackboard pointer again.
"You like this kind of pain, don't you, Miss Baker?"
Her answer was a long, long drawn out sigh after I struck with the pointer several times in succession, repeating my question, feeling a bit more daring, and then punctuating each word with a swift, sharp blow from the rapier-like pointer, Miss Baker now groaning and grunting and moaning between blows when I'd rest a second, appraising her burnished buttocks, examining the weals and the slowly rising welts which were now covering her entire bottom globes.
I could feel my pussy dribbling under my robe. My nipples were hurting me, that's how stiff and erect they were now.
I stuck my left hand up inside my robe and cupped my dripping pussy. God, was I wet now. My lips were dilating. I could feel my slippery ooze gathering up inside my hole.
I kept slapping as I fingered my pussy. I felt for my clitoris. It was burning hot and a thousand perfect thrills shot throughout my body when I manipulated it in rhythm to the now vicious slaps I was administering to her luscious buttocks.
Miss Baker began to moan in earnest now. I couldn't decide whether it was from the accumulating pain or the exquisite pleasure she was feeling as I went at her buttocks with the pointer and then with my open hand.
The harder I slapped and whipped her with the wooden pointer, the more squealing came from her half open mouth. She began to writhe and rotate her hips, some of the times dodging my hand when she anticipated where the next slap or the next whipping would sting her buttocks.
I took my hand away from my sopping wet cunt. I smelled my fingers. I was burning hot, on fire. I so wanted to come now. I'd never come this way, I mean while slapping another person's naked backside.
"Stand back further and really let me have it on both cheeks," Miss Baker whined, her voice now hoarse and lower than before, not as sultry as it was, but somewhat strained.
I could see her cuddling and fondling and caressing her breasts with one hand as she reached under between her open legs with the other. I could tell immediately when her eager fingers lighted on her hot clitoris.
She let out a low, steady howl, her voice rising in ecstatic pitch as her fingers gripped her clitoris.
I whipped all the harder with the pointer now. She was weaving her buttocks wildly, moaning and whimpering now as I began to slap between her buttocks, a loud smacking sound, my palm making her twitch and move her buttocks, my fingers snaking between her ass crack as she rocked forward and backwards to meet my slapping hand.
I wanted to help her come. She was doing most of the work, her fingers wringing pure joy from her clitoris and her breathing increasing, her moaning increasing as I slapped between her buttocks harder and harder, making each blow more penetrating than the previous one.
And, now, as I remember, just to think back and recall that had she come at that moment when her body was close to its bursting point, when her entire body was vibrating like a stretched cord being strummed upon by expert fingers, what happened next would never have happened.
I don't know now which I would have preferred. I do know and remember vividly what occurred.
The EMERGENCY signal light on her desk intercom began flashing!
We both saw it at the same time!!
Miss Baker leaped up. She quickly, wordlessly, climbed into her nurse's habit. Hastily, she put on her cap using two bobby pins, holding one in her teeth as she deftly secured the first one.
She looked at me. I was drenched in sweat under my robe. She wanted to grin, but she was still in the process of wanting to come, her body strained, her body tense.
"Wait here for me, Miss Ruhl," she spat and then rushed out of the office, closing and locking the door with me inside.
Why did she have to do that, I wondered?
I was to find out, and it wasn't going to take all that long. No. Not long at all. Not long at all!
I heard the key turning in the locked door. It flew open and there stood the sinister Mr. Alfred. His eyes were narrowed. He towered over me.
His words came hissing at me. I couldn't believe what he was saying as he came closer to me, the hypodermic needle in his left hand.
"She's my wench!" he hissed. "Mine! Do you understand that?"
I wanted to explain, but hadn't Miss Baker urged me to be discreet? She had! How much freedom did I have to defend myself? Not very much. That's how it looked to me as he came toward me and in a flash, for he was very experienced, he plunged the sharp needle of the syringe right through the cloth of my robe and right into the proper vein---just as if my upper arm had been bared.
It took only seconds! I felt the sharp sting, then the dull pain of the syringe as it penetrated my flesh. With nimble, well practiced fingers, Mr. Alfred withdrew the plunger and I suddenly felt a terrific weakening sensation flow all over me.
It hit my eyes first and then I heard a shrill ringing in my ears. Then I must have passed out because I don't remember anything about what happened until I finally gained consciousness. I didn't know where I was. Nothing looked familiar. I wasn't even sure that I was in the hospital.
I never felt so weak in my entire life. My toes were numb. I couldn't raise my head up. I felt as though my whole body was being stretched, as if I were tied up on some medieval torture rack.
Slowly my eyes began to clear up and I could focus normally. I wasn't in Miss Baker's office. I was tied down with elastic wraps to an examining table in some unfamiliar part of the hospital.
My legs were stretched out and my feet felt as heavy as lead, I tried to move them, to flex my toes and the weight on each toe was unbelievable! My wrists were bound with thin catgut sutures which were biting into my flesh.
I was stark naked!
And when I realized that my legs were spread wide apart, I could have fainted. My pussy felt all wet and oozing. In a moment my breasts began to hurt and ache.
I could smell my own sweat!
CHAPTER NINE
I don't remember how long I remained in that most uncomfortable position before a door opened and a bright light was turned on. At first I was blinded by the strong rays and then slowly I became accustomed to the strong glare.
I recognized Mr. Alfred and my eyes widened when I saw he was naked, his black body gleaming. I could see his fat, thick cock, hanging down between his strong, heavy thighs. His balls were round and heavy.
Behind him stood Miss Baker. Her arms were wrapped behind her back in safety restrainers which are similar to handcuffs and ankle bracelets. These restrainers are used mostly on violent cases where there is multiple danger of the patient harming himself. In themselves they do nothing but restrain, they do not hurt the flesh.
In extreme cases before the patient has been subdued with medication, another two leather straps are used.
The wider one runs down from a neck collar to the wrists where it divides into two thin leather thongs. Each of these is tied to either ankle through a metal loop. This causes the patient to bend over slightly. He is still able to walk but it's impossible for him or her to stand up fully straight without placing a severe strain on the neck collar or on the wrists and ankles.
Any movement of the arms causes the leather band to tighten up and the pain felt from this can often cause an aching only an hour of massage will alleviate.
The second leather strap is much narrower, about one inch across and is adjustable according to the height of the patient.
To apply this to the restrainer, as this apparatus is known, one simply hooks the strap to an eye hook in the rear of the neck collar.
Then this is hung down the patient's back. It, too, divides in half about knee length.
Both divided things can then be attached to the ankle bracelets. When both the wide strap and the narrow one are attached, as was the case with Miss Baker as I saw her, the patient is totally restrained. Any pressure or tugging or wriggling causes sharp, fierce pains in the neck and on the wrists and ankles.
There are notches on the straps similar to holes in a belt and the drawstrings can be made tighter, depending on the attendant's need to subdue the patient.
Mr. Alfred came over to the side of the examining table.
He glared down at my face. Then he pinched my nipples with his thumb and index fingers, both nipples. Then he pulled my nipples up, stretching my swollen breasts.
Miss Baker stood obediently behind him. Her eyes were half closed and her face was expressionless.
Half heartedly, Mr. Alfred released my wrists from the elastic bands. This enabled me to sit up and he pulled me by the neck roughly, forcing my naked body up into a sitting position...
"I must inform you, Miss Rhul," Mr. Alfred was saying, "that we have many rules around here. You may disagree with them, but they were made for the benefit of the patient."
"I realize that."
"And you also realize, I trust, that you have broken one of our most stringent rules?"
I still wasn't sure how much he knew of what had happened in Miss Baker's office. I decided to play it as cool as possible, saying nothing, but just hanging my head, as though I knew that I was guilty.
He went on methodically, probably reciting a kind of liturgy of rules and regulations the hospital imposed on both patients and staff alike.
I half listened, sneaking glances at poor Miss Baker. She gave me the impression that she was drugged. Her eyelids would flutter from time to time. Her eyes were glassy. She seemed to have trouble breathing, her breasts rising and falling but with an effort. Her nipples were flat and almost appeared to be inverted.
The collar around her neck must have been very uncomfortable, judging from the way she kept shifting her Adam's apple and moving her chin from side to side.
� Now that my eyes were focusing clearly, I could see whip lash markings all over her exquisite breasts. One mark ran down the full length of her lovely naked body.
The pussy hairs in her delightful crotch, especially those guarding the portals of her delicious cunt, were wet and matted, snarled.
I could also see stains of what looked like blood on her inner thighs, now not as white nor as milky as I remembered them from inside her office.
I kept wondering what time it was. I tried to figure out, mentally measuring the time both Miss Baker and Mr. Alfred spent on duty. So it couldn't be much past four in the afternoon when they normally finished their duty.
The curtains were drawn in the room in which the three of us were. Thus, I couldn't see out the window so I might judge the time of day. There were no clocks on the walls. Mr. Alfred was naked and he had no wrist watch.
Mr. Alfred stood back, finished with his recitation, rules and regulations I had long been familiar with since I arrived at the hospital.
� "So, Miss Rhul, you do understand?"
I bowed my head.
"See, Miss Ruhl, I may be only the senior attendant here, but I have a great deal more authority than you imagine."
I knew this to be true. Other patients had told me.
With these words he stepped in back of Miss Baker. She winced when his long, thick black fingers gripped her shoulders, spinning her around so that now her back was to me.
I could hardly believe my own eyes!!
From her neck down to her calves she was a circus of red ugly welts and thin weals, no rhythm to the cruel pattern of the marks which decorated her naked flesh.
Without her thigh high leather boots, the naked Miss Baker's body looked almost obscene in the light. Her hair still fell softly over her shoulders, but this was the only sign of real femininity, except for the other obvious signs, that is, her full, ripe breasts and her lush triangle of pussy hair.
She was shivering as his hands crawled down her back. She was tight lipped when his fingers rubbed over her hairy pussy, and then traveled on down the inside of her pearly white thighs, down to her knees, Mr. Alfred bending over now, his prick extending and his balls, so heavy and black and hairy, swinging as he kneeled finally and began to paw and stroke her cunt.
"You do see, Miss Rhul, that the rules for the staff and the rules for the patients are more or less the same, where disobedience to the overall authority is concerned?"
"Yes," I said.
Mr. Alfred went on. "Miss Baker here has been with us only a short while. Of course, her being charge nurse on the ward does give her certain privileges the other staff members do not enjoy." He stood up straight and tall now. His prick was growing larger and larger the longer he talked.
I felt a weird sensation plow through my body. It made me shudder, especially when his huge fist closed over his phallus and his thick fingers almost hid it from my view. I was actually getting hot and horny staring at his huge, monstrous prick; and I think Mr. Alfred realized this.
"Miss Baker is also beholden to me, is that clear?" he asked, coming up closer to the examining table on which I was sitting, my legs still stretched out over the end of it, my toes still tied with the thongs and whatever the heavy weights were, attached to the thongs, they were as heavy as ever; and the pain and the ache in my arches, and especially in my ankles was increasing as I was forced to listen to the tall black attendant.
"If it were not for my assistance. Miss Baker would not be working here. She would not have this soft, good-paying job. It's difficult for a head nurse or a charge nurse to get a job out here." I glanced into Miss Baker's eyes. They still had that glassy look. I couldn't understand this.
Seemingly finished with his banter, which meant nothing or little to me at the time, Mr. Alfred turned his attention to Miss Baker.
Kneeling, he removed the leather thongs from the ankle restrainer, He did the same to her wrists. Then he unbuckled the neck collar and took it off. Miss Baker still stood still, but now her Adam's apple was silent.
He pushed her closer to me. Then he knelt down at the foot of the examining table. I felt one weight at a time being removed from my aching toes. God, what a relief from the painful heaviness of those weights. I finally saw what they were: weights from the scale tied together on a thin piece of rope with spaces between them.
He began to fiddle with the elastic bands holding my legs, but all he did, and I thought he was going to free me, was move them down lower so that now my thighs could spread open wider. I couldn't imagine what he was up to. He was breathing heavier now and his breath was coming faster, His prick was really enlarging and the bulbous head was a kind of pinkish purple color.
He maneuvered Miss Baker's naked buttocks to a ladder chair that stood at the foot of the table. Almost with the gestures and mannerisms of a zombi, Miss Baker sat upon the chair part, her face without one shade of expression. Her eyes would open and close but I could see no sign of vitality in her glazed eyes.
She was obviously drugged. There was no doubt about it in my mind.
With the thongs in his left hand, Mr. Alfred came up and stood close to me, about arm's length.
"Now, Miss Rhul, you are going to be sorely punished for your lewd behavior with Miss Baker. And I warn you, Miss Rhul, if you breathe a word of what's happened to you this morning, either with Miss Baker alone, or with us here in this room, there's going to be a seclusion room for you all alone, and it's up on the flight deck."
The words "flight deck" struck fear in my heart! This was where the incorrigible psychotics were imprisoned before their transfer to one of the many state hospitals for the incurable mentally insane.
He began trailing the thongs over my bare breasts. I could feel them tantalizing my nipples. Then he raised his arm and whipped the thongs wildly across my titties.
And, no sooner had the thongs ripped across my shocked flesh, when I saw Miss Baker bend her head between my open thighs and bury her face in my crotch. I felt her tongue reaming between my pussy lips. She began grunting aloud and this was the first sound Miss Baker made since she'd come into the room behind Mr. Alfred.
Oh, God, I screamed when I felt her teeth on my soft, tender pussy lips. She was really biting my pussy, her teeth gnashing and chewing on my pussy, her teeth pulling my pussy hairs until I thought I'd go out of my mind.
The thongs in Mr. Alfred's hand kept whipping and searing my breasts, then down lower to my tummy, then back up again, the ache and pain I was enduring making me catch my breath.
This torment continued until my breasts and tummy were bleeding.
I remember coming at least three times into Miss Baker's hungry mouth as the thongs rained down on my aching flesh...
CHAPTER TEN
Well, dear reader, last night there was another fracas with my little Mike.
Right, Mike?
(Yes.)
Anything else you want to say, I mean type about last night, Mike? Maybe whoever's reading this might like to learn a few things about how a female like me can really punish a man like you, huh? What you think?
(Maybe.)
Why so brief, Mike? Why so laconic?
(It hurts to type, that's why. And you won't let me talk, and I couldn't talk if I had to.)
Tell the readers why, Mike. Tell them.
(You mean that?)
I mean it, Mike. Of course, I mean it. Mike, don't I usually mean everything I tell you. Don't I?
(You do... yes you do.)
Well, go on then...
(I'll probably get in more hot water than I'm already in, but I will give you my version of what happened. Her version, Sandy being a woman, will undoubtedly be different.)
Get on with what happened. Skip the formalities.
(Okay, Sandy. Well, I'd finished retyping what she had dictated about Mr. Alfred and Miss Baker when she was in the hospital. I have no idea whether or not she's going to include this segment in the final manuscript when it's completed. Perhaps she will.)
I don't know if I will either.
(Well, anyway, I'd finished typing it and she went out to do some shopping, leaving me alone here in my apartment, which I must admit is slowly taking on Sandy's personality and eliminating my own.)
(I don't really have any argument with this, but it's a bit upsetting at times, especially when I want to find something or the other that I need. She never puts my books back on the shelves where she found them and this can be especially irritating when I want to refer to some fact or facts when I'm in the process of writing one of the scenes for my historical play.)
He's right. That's what started the whole thing.
(It did alright. It did.)
So, go on. I don't have all night to watch over your shoulder and see what you're typing with those two fingers of yours, your right hand still painful?
(Yes.)
It should be. Go on, type out what happened.
(I asked her nicely at first... like where was this book, and she snubbed me and I told her, again nicely, that I needed it right away. And, truthfully, I did need it right away. And, truthfully, I did need it then... before the thoughts slipped away from me.)
(Not having the fucking book was frustrating me. I got up to search for it and finally found it next to the toilet in the bathroom where she'd been sitting on the john reading.)
(This made me mad and I told her what I thought of it. She resented my speaking harshly to her and she slapped me across the face. She threatened me with the chains she had found in a basket up on the roof when she was taking her first sun- bath up there, half naked, attracting the neighbors in the high-rise apartment across the street.)
(I simply locked myself inside the bathroom. There was no way she could get in either. What did I have to worry about. I had the book. I could read. I had fresh water, and I never eat much anyway so what did it matter if she guarded the door for an entire day and night--which, of course, I knew she wouldn't do, because you see Sandy needs her precious sleep and she can sleep enough for three people.)
That's not entirely true.
(Just about true, I'd say. So, she pounded and beat on the door. Then she took the heavy car wheel skid chains and began to whip them against the door, getting madder and madder. The chains beating against the door had no effect whatever.)
That's true.
(After the first couple of hours, she gave up and I could hear her puttering around in the front room. That's up in the front of the house. Where I work and where Sandy dictates her story to me, that's in the rear of the long apartment. Quick as a flash, I opened the door. I came out and then softly closed it. I hid in the back bedroom. When she came back, she saw that the door to the bathroom was still closed. She knocked and banged it with her fist, and then whipped it roughly with the chain, but I made no response. Back in the bedroom I wore a large grin on my face.)
But I sure wiped your grin off a few minutes later, didn't I, Mike?
(Yes. You did.)
Let me tell them what happened, the rest.
(Go ahead.)
Besides you're a play writer, not a story writer.
(That's correct.)
Well, then... I thought... I thought I heard someone in the rear bedroom. Maybe it was a burglar? I didn't know. But I wasn't afraid. I'm not afraid of anything after what I've been through, both before Viet Nam, while I was out there in that rotten place, and since I've been back and in the hospital.
I took the tire chains with me just in case, and what's so funny is that Mike didn't hear me coming. I crept up behind him. He was looking out of the rear window, chuckling to himself.
On the bureau was a lamp base that needed fixing. It was made of china. I simply picked it up and getting angrier by the moment, crashed it down right on top of his stupid head.
(I went out like a light.)
You sure did, and for a second there, I thought I had killed him. But the wound was only skin deep and it bled like mad, the blood dripping down the front of his face and dribbling down over his ears and cheeks.
He fell into a heap on the floor near the window. I dragged him over the floor and up onto the bed. Hell, I let him bleed. I knew the wound would coagulate .all by itself. Surface wounds such as Mike had always behaved this way.
I looked at him, and then a rage overcame me. He had to be punished. That was all there was to that. And this time he was going to really learn who was boss around his place. And I didn't care if he did own the apartment and I didn't have a place of my own to go. I figured that if worse came to worse I could always go to a hotel. But deep down, I knew that Mike would never throw me out. He needed me. I knew this.
(Well... I don't... )
SHUT UP!!
I went up to the roof and got the clothes line I saw when I was taking my sun bath and exciting the neighbors, just as Mike told you. I like to show off my half naked body whenever I get a chance. Like all girls, I'm also an exhibitionist and I love it and I don't give a fuck about anyone criticizing me.
I took the clothes line back downstairs. Mike was still unconscious on the bed. I tied his ankles to the foot of the bed on which I had him spread-eagled. I roped his wrists to each of the two corners at the head of the bed. Then I tied another section of the rope around his middle. This I tied to the bedspring on either side.
There was no way out for him now. No way!!
I went to his liquor cabinet and got him a glass of whisky. I poured it down his throat and the poor thing almost choked to death. Maybe that would have been a better death for him than the one he almost suffered when he came to.
(She's right.)
I started whipping his prick and his balls first. I slashed them with an umbrella first. I cut his thigh with his belt buckle when I decided to use that to slash his body with. Mike was squirming all over the place, but he couldn't escape the rain of blows as I wielded the belt and then the umbrella.
He began cursing me. As vulgar as I am, I can't stand when people swear at me.
And then I did a brutal thing. I took hold of the tire skid chain and brought it down over his chest with all of my strength. Mike screamed in terror as the cold rusty chain crashed against his chest and his chin. I raised the chain once more and swept it down over his genitals. His prick was throbbing. I saw his prick almost bend in half when the rough chain struck it. I beat the chain down his legs, raising and lowering it, my anger unappeased by his ravings and his screams which made me shudder, they were so awful.
Bright red blood began to ooze out of his thighs. Every time he'd plead with me or beg me to stop striking him with the chain, I'd become more angry. My blood was boiling. And so was my cunt. My cunt was dripping hot creamy juice all down my thighs as I dropped the scourging chain and picked up the belt, using the buckle end to flagellate him within an inch of his very life.
I whipped the cuts on the inside of his thighs. Then I swished the belt through the air and it landed on the side of his face, his left cheek, cutting it about half an inch.
This frightened me when it began to bleed. Already his face was covered with drying blood from the open wound in his scalp where I'd bashed him with the lamp base. This blood was drying and his hair was a total mess, matted with drying blood. Blood was flaking on his face and his neck.
I whipped every inch of his naked body until he was writhing in pain and agony, his eyes dilated, his mouth dry as I made him bounce up and down on the bed, trying to escape the vicious blows.
I had no mercy for him.
None.
And then, he passed out. I took a breather and then I made myself a drink and sat on his bloody chest, my naked buttocks feeling his wet sticky blood. I masturbated and came two times just thinking about how he had suffered, and how he maybe... I said, maybe learned his lesson.
(I learned it.)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Today's another day. Last night I slept with Mike and he fucked me to sleep. I needed it. He loved sucking my cunt and my asshole before he stabbed his cock up my hot, hungry pussy, my cunt bleating the way a baby lamb does as his prick dipped and then swam up into my sopping wet hole, my head thrown back, my ankles back over my shoulders, my cunt wide open, liquid, gurgling as his prick slurped in and out, poising then squirming and finally diving up deep, Mike wiggling it, slamming it, and then pumping like a trip hammer as I came and came, my creamy juices flowing like a stream, coating his forceful prick, wetting his slapping balls. Oh, how I loved that fuck.
I'm watching his prick now as I dictate these words to him. Believe it or don't but I really think Mike's cock is getting longer and thicker the longer I live with him. He loves the punishment and the bondage I force on him. How do I know this? His prick tells me. So do his eyes when I threaten him with a whipping or I tell him I'm going to spank his cock and his hairy balls.
I keep him waiting, I promise him sex and then I don't function. He waits like an animal waits for its food, or waits to go out the front door. I walk around naked, teasing him, tantalizing his prick with my naked bottom. I brush against his cock with my breasts when I bend down in front of him.
Sometimes when I feel the hot fever of sex overwhelm me, I nibble on his prick, or I stick out my tongue and lick at his balls, and then I lay down indicating that I want him to eat my pussy, or I get down on my hands and knees and spread open the cheeks of my ass and wiggle my buttocks, or I play and caress my breasts, squeezing and mashing them, and he stares at me, his mouth watering, his huge cock growing stiffer and stiffer, and then I abruptly stop. He hates this, but he's never quite, quite sure that I really mean it, and he waits... he waits... and many times, in vain.
But then, when I do keep my promise, he's so hungry that he comes in my mouth if I just close my lips over his feverishly hot prick.
I spit his come out, all over his face. Or I'll playfully tie his wrists together behind his back. Then his knees together, tight, so that the ropes hurt his flesh, so the string I sometimes use gives him burns around the ankles and his wrists, Mike complaining as I hover over his cock with my mouth and stick out my tongue and wet the tip of his already oozing cock, sipping the delicious nectar his cock exudes.
Sometimes I straddle his upright prick and threaten to sit down on it and give him a good riding fuck, and I suddenly change my mind, standing in front of him and spreading my knees wide apart and crouching and then jerking off my clitoris with one hand while I stroke and play with my breasts and pinch my nipples while he stares up at me, helpless to do anything but plead with me using his eyes, because he's forbidden to say one word, to utter even the slightest sound.
If he makes a noise of any kind, it means a severe whipping, either on his naked buttocks, or all around his stiff prick and his hanging balls. He loves and hates to feel pain, especially when I crack the whip between his thighs, or make him force open his ass cheeks so I can poke the handle of our special whip against his asshole.
Sometimes I threaten to burn his asshole with my cigarette. Sometimes I tell him I'm going to poke a Coke bottle up his ass and he wants me to do it until I start to do it and then he's twisting and rolling on the floor, his wrists and ankles tied securely, unable to escape.
I make him kiss and lick my bare toes.
He likes this and he tickles my toes and then he takes them into his hot mouth and sucks on them, driving me wild with passion, a thousand ecstasies seeping and then thrilling through my whole trembling body, my cunt hungry and moist and demanding his hot prick.
Then I leave him alone to suffer.
I love to frustrate him. He's a thorough-going masochist and he knows this. I'm always thinking up ways to humiliate him when we go out together, which isn't too often, because I just don't have the time.
I have my studies and my plans to make for the future. I keep telling little Mike that he may be included and then he might not.
Every time he whines and begs me to include him, I sit back and raise my knees up high so he can look at my bare cunt, my lovely, hairy pussy which he's fallen in love with.
I tell him to worship my cunt with his mouth, with his face. I love to see his nose clogged up with my thick rich juices. I love to see my creamy nectar covering his eyelids and his lips and his chin.
I make him smell me when I need a bath. He winces and then he's in for a beating if he doesn't clean up my smelly pussy. I know how he loves this, even though he bucks up, giving me the impression that my odor's distasteful to him-- when it truly is not.
Is that correct, little Mike, you cunt lapper?
( )
See, he doesn't answer. And the reason for it this time is that his mouth is full of my panty hose which I wore all day yesterday. I have an Ace elastic bandage around his mouth, keeping it closed. His cheeks are billowing out and I can see him trying to keep his supply of saliva going as my pantyhose fill his mouth cavity.
He looks funny from the rear where I'm now standing, dictating, playing with my body, my cunt dripping and my hot body all sticky and sweaty.
Well, what I started out to tell you before I got sidetracked was the dream I had last night about Corrine back in Viet Nam.
And the dream was fantastic! It was in bright color and I can still smell the odors of that wonderful, thrilling late afternoon when just Corrine and I went off on one of the coast guard boats for a sunset picnic with two of the most handsome officers in the whole coast guard.
How beautiful everything was when we started out! And how ugly and cruel, how hideous it all became when the boat ran out of fuel and we began to have a million problems all at once.
Sam, the captain, swam ashore to tie the anchor to the trunk of a tree. It was so dark in the jungle because of the overgrowth and the thickness of the trees, that Sam was soon lost to sight. Dick dived in and went after him when we heard Sam scream for help. Both Corrine and I were terrified! The coast guard boat was drifting out to sea and it seemed that there was nothing that we could do about the dilemma.
It didn't take long before we were right in the current, and it was swift, sucking the boat further and further out into the racing stream. At one point the boat almost collided with another boat, a long wide barge which seemed to be adrift, but we missed by a hair's breath.
Corrine and I clung together, terrified as the barge passed by, almost touching our fragile boat.
Now, by this time, we were very far from shore and the water was so rough that we knew it was almost impossible for either Sam or Dick to rescue us.
Then our heart leaped up!
Someone was swimming out from shore, long overarm strokes, powerful strokes, the water flashing and foaming as the strong swimmer breasted the waves and approached the boat.
And then our hearts sank into the pit of our stomachs when we saw the swimmer surface. He was a gook! There was no doubt about that, and although all gooks, North and South Viets, look alike, you get a funny feeling in your belly when you know, you just know that the gook's a Cong, a VC.
We ran into the cabin and tried to find a place to hide. We weren't at all sure the swimmer had spotted us. With no fuel on the boat, the lights didn't work, and it was growing pitch black.
The swimmer gave a mighty leap and his fingernails gripped the wooden railing. In seconds he hauled his dripping wet, sleek body up onto the deck. I could watch him through the porthole in the chain locker in which we were hiding, cramped and smelling rusty old chains, very unseamanlike, to say the least.
In a flash he ran around the deck, examining the whole boat. I could hear him tinkering with the engine, He soon discovered it was out of fuel. Then he came out on deck. He'd found a lantern and it was burning bright. It looked like a ray of hope, but shivering together, we knew it was anything but.
When he came down into the forward cabin, we knew we'd be found. And in seconds we were. He dragged us both out of the chain locker, and I mean dragged, because we were both fighting like angry lions, clawing his naked body with our fingernails, hitting him with our clenched fists and bucking him with our heads and kicking with all our strength at his genitals.
But he won! And we knew he would. It was a losing battle all the way.
He gave each of us a hard blow on the chin and flung our bodies in a crumpled heap in the corner of the main cabin. He kicked Corrine in her crotch, and the ache she suffered was fantastic! She held her belly and her cunt as the pain shattered her, her mouth agape that a man could strike her so viciously in her crotch.
Luckily I escaped his foot as he shot it at my face. He caught the side of my face, my ear and I could tell that I was bleeding when his sharp toenails gashed my cheek and my ear. I raised my hand to touch my cheek and his foot flew so swiftly and without any warning, that my hand smashed against my left breast with such power I thought my glands would burst.
The he chained our ankles together. He pulled the rusty chain so tight our ankles began to pain and ache instantly. With one arm he raised both our bodies up until we were standing. Then he stripped us naked, ripping off our thin clothing until we were naked and shivering in fear of what was coming.
He put us face to face. He swung a thick chain around our waists. He drew this tight. Now we were face to face and cunt to cunt as he took another chain and lashed it around our necks, pulling this chain tight so that our faces were mashed together.
He made me wrap my arms around Corrine's back. She was forced to do the same to me. He then found a thick, coarse rope on the floor of the chain locker and using this, he expertly tied each of our wrists tight. Now we were completely lashed together and totally helpless!!
Stumbling and falling time and time again, he pushed and shoved and dragged us by our hair into the chain locker. He threw a lot of junk out into the corridor. Then he threw us down on the filthy deck, Corrine on the bottom, my naked body pressed against hers on top. We had long before stopped struggling because the pain was frantic, especially in our wrists and ankles because of the heavy, ugly chains.
He went out and locked us in the dark, smelly locker.
An hour must have passed before we heard voices up on deck, and then the starting engine began to whine before the main engine caught fire and the pistons began to churn.
"The boat's moving, Sandy," said Corrine, her voice quivering in fear.
I was able to kiss her lips. I closed my eyes to the horror I was anticipating at the cruel hands of the Cong.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I have no idea what time it was when I awakened. I don't remember falling off to sleep either, and I began to wonder how I could have slept at all in such discomfort. But I did realize suddenly and I felt a keen panic sweep through me--that I was alone, bound up in the terrible cold chains.
They had taken Corrine away from me.
I also became conscious that I was no longer on the boat. I vaguely remember the boat rolling with the waves. I think I remember someone poking his prick deep up my cunt, then feeling very lazy and lethargic, as if I didn't care what happened to me.
I felt a definite numbness in my legs and arms. Managing to sit up, and it cost a great deal of effort, I looked down at my lower body with horror. I was literally covered with blood. I couldn't believe it. I started to feel a fear I'd never known. I searched frantically with my bound hands trying to discover where I had been wounded.
And, to my utter astonishment, when I reached down, the wrist chains slipped off. This shocked me. I had been in chains so long that I had grown accustomed to the iron grip of the cold steel. Since then, that experience, I've learned the mind is usually the organ imprisoned, not the extremity of the body itself no matter how many tight ropes or heavy chains are used to restrain.
My wrists and my ankles were burning and I chafed them, hoping to restore circulation. My chest felt funny, and so did my pussy. I touched my cunt and I didn't feel a thing. It was numb! Then I knew. I had been given some kind of an injection which was now wearing off and as the moments dragged by, my wondering what was going on, pain, deep seated, throbbing pain began to slink up from my ankles, spreading out over my thighs and my buttocks.
Then the pain attacked my full breasts which were covered with red sticky blood. My breasts began to tingle and then itch and soon I felt a deep thudding pain shoot up through my swollen titties. My nipples began to sting and expand.
Weird things were also going on inside my pussy. Then I felt a dull aching in my kidneys and it traveled upwards, climbing up my spinal column until it resided in my neck.
My entire body was now wracked with a penetrating, vicious pain which brought tears to my eyes. I began to shiver hysterically. My toes were suddenly cold, as were my fingers. I couldn't feel my tongue inside my mouth, as one can't when novacaine has been injected for an extraction.
I began to panic again. I tried to control it. I managed to stand up, but collapsed instantly on the floor. This was when I realized that the floor was not the stone cold dirty deck of the chain locker, but another, one with a rug on it.
I rolled over on my belly and tried to hold my breath. The intense pain made me shudder and I began to cry, unable to control the wracking aches which plowed through my body.
Suddenly a series of violent spasms made me tremble. I couldn't understand what was causing them. With all my training and experience, I couldn't understand !
And then it happened. I felt a terrific bolt up inside my pussy. I began to come, my pussy lips dilating, my clitoris extending, throbbing and then swelling as the pitch of the feverish orgasm struck me, making me tingle and then twist and turn my buttocks, digging my hot sticky cunt into the rug, fucking the rug with uncontrollable lust.
My cunt was driving me mad! It seemed to be inflamed and the harder I rubbed it on the rug, grinding my crotch against the rug, the more intense the lascivious pressure became. I could hear my voice moaning and I could feel hot liquids pouring out of my hapless cunt, my pussy on fire and quaking spasmodically as I came yet another time.
Now I was screaming aloud, my voice drowning out my thoughts as I was pummelled by whatever chemical had been shot into my veins. My heart was pounding! I could smell the acrid odor of my freely flowing perspiration. My armpits were drenched!
Suddenly I felt a new eruption and I tried with all my strength, but my bowels were opening and I knew I was shitting. My sphincter muscle wasn't gripping and I lost complete control. My bladder let loose next and I was both pissing, shitting and coming at the same time.
It was wild! Fantastic. Unimaginable !!
My vision would fade in and out! Then I began to panic again, trying to concentrate on the gorgeous sensations of coming but unable to, thinking, believing that maybe I'd been poisoned, and that the end was close.
I'd seen this particular series of events take place with several poison victims.
And then I passed out, my body shivering and ice cold, my heart pumping, my breasts stinging and my cunt oozing come, ounces of creamy come floating out of my cunt as I drifted off into a magnificent land to which I'd never been in any of my most marvelous dreams.
I don't know how long I was unconscious. When I came to I was astonished once again. I was in a bed. I let my arm fall from across my face to the side and it struck an object. It was Corrine!
She was naked except for a black hood covering her face. I recognized her by her lovely, pale nippled breasts and her gorgeous pussy hair, her bare toes which I had grown to love, kissing and sucking on them intimately even in the hospital when I'd ask her to keep me company in my office when I had the duty.
I would love to kneel in front of her and stare at her leather boots, then slowly pulling one off, then the other, then kissing and licking her bare feet, finally sucking on her wiggling toes as she lay back and hoisted up her skirt so my eyes could look up and feast on her pussy, the gorgeous lips of her mossy cavern opening up, pouting, winking at me as I'd feel my saliva gathering, knowing that I could lick up from her pretty tiny toes toward her knees, then to her white milky thighs and finally bury my face in her cunt, my tongue flashing, searching for her clitoris, then my teeth nibbling on it while Corrine began to writhe and shudder in exquisite ecstasy as I'd bite her pussy lips and her clitoris, wanting her to come, urging her body to melt, desiring her warm creamy juices to coat my tongue, and then, driving my tongue deep up and in and out and then suddenly, her orgasm soaring and making her body writhe and twitch, making her breasts ache with passion as her cunt would begin to pound and churn, and then... aaaaaa, her little screams, her little moans and then Corrine yelling and shouting as her cunt would explode in my mouth...
Oh, the memories of sweet Corrine are so wonderful to own, so precious. I yearn for her and miss her dearly.
I looked down closely at Corrine. She was breathing deeply. Her pulse was slow and I realized that she, too, had been drugged.
I began to massage her body, my hands running up and down over her breasts, down over her soft belly and then squeezing her thighs and finally racing over her pussy.
I opened her pussy lips and her cunt was as dry as a bone. No lubrication at all! This was when I rolled her over on her belly to massage her back. My Lord!
Her back and her naked buttocks were covered with blue-black welts, criss-crossing and running parallel and deep horizontally, all the way down to the back of her knees.
There were severe rope and chain indentations on her ankles which I'd not noticed when she was lying on her back.
The small of her back was really bruised as though some hard rounded object had beat steadily into the area. Deep bluish, purple welts surrounded the small of her back. Examining her skin carefully I could see several needle holes. So that's what had happened. Obviously, a hypodermic needle had been used. I wondered if the same was true of my own back. But I couldn't determine this.
There were also deep chain indentations and stripings across her lovely shoulders. Vivid pinch marks covered her upper back and also her firm buttocks. The inside of her thighs from the rear had been cruelly tortured. I wondered how she had tolerated what must have been gross pain.
Even the soles of her pretty little feet had been damaged, as well as her delicate toes. Her feet had apparently been bound by something more painful than a rope or a chain.
Standing up, I took the mask from her face and this was when the real horror struck. Her entire face, from her forehead to her chin, and her underneck had been laced with a thin whip of some kind, maybe a wire whip. It was a terrible sight to see. It made my blood curdle.
Slowly Corrine swam up to consciousness. She tried to speak but no words would come out. I whispered for her to relax, to try to rest while I surveyed our prison and tried to find out what was happening, and most of all, what had happened!
I discovered that we were incarcerated in some kind of gook mansion. I saw from the window that we were on the second floor. There was a green garden below. About a hundred thin Nam-type chickens ran around. I saw a pile of dead foul in a corner near a wire cyclone fence. Then I realized that the blood covering my body must be chicken blood and the curious, pointed indentations all over my breasts must have come from a pecking chicken's beak.
The claw marks on my outer thighs and from my knees down to my ankles could have been none other than the marks from the sharp nails on a chicken's foot.
I found the bathroom. Formerly, this place had been occupied by the French because the decor was such. The toilet worked and I had my first bowel movement in what seemed days. I washed the blood from my body. I still wasn't able to control the trembling. Inside my cunt I was raw and sore. I knew that I must have been fucked over and over again. Dried come was flaking on my thighs under the thin coating of sticky chicken blood.
How we were to escape was a miracle in itself!! I won't go into much detail except to report that when the sun went down, a terrific bombardment struck that section of the outskirts and in the immense confusion, mobs of people racing away with their meager possessions, dragging screaming children by their thin wrists, dogs yelping and sirens screeching, Corrine and I, with black shawls over our heads, fled along the crowded road clogged with refugees and finally managed to reach the city limits.
We were to learn later that the coast guard boat on which we were captured by a member of a famous enemy sapper unit, was destroyed. Both our coast guard officer friends were taken prisoner.
We were never to find out what had happened to us while we were in enemy hands...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Toward the end of my wretched stay in Nam, I could feel my nervous breakdown attacking me. For no good reason I'd suddenly get the shakes. They'd become violent. I would tremble all over. My breasts would ache and ache for no good reason. My cunt would sizzle if I only looked at another cunt, and there were many to see in the hospital where I worked.
I began to be forgetful. I would lose a day in the week and wonder what was happening to me. I would make a date to visit Corrine and Tan Ky San, and then when I'd finally arrive there I would learn from the gatekeeper that my appointment had been for the day previous.
I would have wild dreams. I found that I was drinking more than usual, getting drunk, finding myself in waterfront bars late in the evening, and somehow getting back to my quarters in the hospital grounds, thoroughly raped and beaten by God knows who, my clothing in tatters, blood specks all over my thighs and my buttocks.
I would wake up suddenly in the middle of the early morning. I would wake up hearing my own wild screams!
One night I walked one of our little Viet Nam nurse's aides home because the seventeen-year-old girl had every reason to be frightened.
We stopped off at the My Canh Restaurant on Bay Coc Street down by the waterfront. I was dying for a beer. And Panny (her nickname) was also thirsty. This place was supposed to be safe. It turned out to be anything but that!
The My Canh was crowded with dock workers. They had just finished unloading another one of the thousand ships that brought every kind of war item to the Americans and the South Vietnamese.
Because the restaurant was in the Chinese quarter of the teeming city of Saigon, there were many ruffians and known smugglers drinking silently at the square tables.
Panny whispered to me that she recognized one of the men, and that if we were to somehow get into trouble, she was certain that he would protect us.
"Why do you think we'll get into trouble?" I wanted to know.
"Because," Panny sighed, her lush young breasts outlined so perfectly under her white hunchie, "you are so pretty and so sexy," she giggled, her eyes caressing my body, "that maybe you raise up the cocks and only a hot, wet cunt will put out the fire in these men's cocks."
It always amused me how the young Vietnamese girls used our vernacular, words like 'cunt', 'cock', and 'asshole' becoming a part of their normal, everyday vocabulary.
"Well, we're not going to be here that long to set any cocks on fire," I laughed, and then we ordered from a tiny Chinese man who approached our table, his white teeth shining through the artificial smile all Chinese seem to be able to mask their faces with at the sound of paper money being touched by human hands.
Drinking my beer and Panny sipping her Coke, we didn't notice two of the more important smugglers discussing us. Christ, one would have to have eyes in the back of his head like the Viet Cong to have caught all of the implications and insinuations in such a place as the My Canh restaurant.
When the Chinese waiter returned with our change, he put a note on the table. I opened it. The printing was in Vietnamese. I handed it to Panny. I saw her eyes widen as she read the characters on the smudged piece of paper, her lips moving as she read.
"The note warns us to leave, Sandy."
"I'll not be intimidated," I said, sitting up straight.
And these were just about my last words. I began to feel as though I had to piss in the world's worst way. My bladder began to pulsate and I didn't understand it.
I excused myself instantly and went to the sign which indicated the ladies' room. Inside I sat down on the toilet seat and that's the very last that I remember.
I felt as though I were watching a silent movie.
I felt light, flighty, unreal. Scatter dreams passed before my eyes. I could hear sweet, tinkling music. Perfume was everywhere. A spring garden, then a winter scene with a deep snow and strong odors of pine trees as in some New England winter setting.
I felt hands touching me, pawing my breasts. I lay on a mat with my head thrown back. Fingers were dancing on my naked flesh. I could hear wind whistling. I could smell summer time roses in blossom. I could smell incense!
Then I heard a soft, feminine voice.
I recognized it as belonging to Panny.
I opened my eyes.
"You're going to be alright, Sandy."
"Where are we?" I managed to ask. My mouth was very dry. My tongue felt thick inside my mouth. I felt as if I had a fever. Heat waves were passing over my body.
I was on my back. I was naked except for my boots... which I suddenly remembered putting on just before I left the hospital with Panny.
Panny loved me in my shiny black boots which come up to just below my dimpled knees. She would often sit at my feet when I would be making out the report at my desk in the nurses' quarters just before I'd come off duty.
Panny's being with me in the wonderful solitude of the nurses' quarters had become a nightly ritual, Panny playing with my thighs as I'd open them, her darling fingers drawing erotic, teasing designs on my soft flesh as I'd try to recall all the significant details that had happened while I was in charge during my shift.
"Where are we, Panny?"
"I don't know, Sandy, but I do know we're okay."
"How long have we been here?"
"I don't know that either, darling Sandy."
I tried to sit up and my waist was numb. I could feel no sensations whatever in my naked buttocks either. I felt dizzy and very shaky, as though I'd been doped.
And I suddenly remembered sitting on the toilet after drinking my beer in the My Canh restaurant. I remembered having to piss so badly. I remembered the note in Vietnamese.
"We were taken here?" I asked.
"Yes," Panny answered, petting my belly, drawing her little fingernails over my white flesh, behaving as if being imprisoned, as I knew we were, was an everyday occurrence.
"Yes," she repeated. "When you didn't come back to the table, I got a little scared. A little worried, and I went to you. There you were. You had fallen off the toilet seat. You were on the floor. You were hardly breathing."
"What did you do?"
"I didn't have much chance to do anything."
"What happened then. Please tell me," I said, watching her agile fingers as though I were hypnotized, her fingers warbling over my breasts now, her fingers pinching my nipples lightly, her fingers making love to my flesh.
"I heard the lock on the toilet door snap closed," Panny said. "Then, when I tried to bang on it with my fist, nothing happened. I tried to pick you up, but I couldn't because you were as heavy as a log.
"Finally, I decided to just wait. I sat down beside you and washed your face with water, but this didn't do any good. Whatever they had put into your beer had knocked you out... but good," she managed a small grin, despite the atmosphere of the room in which we now found ourselves.
"Then a back door that I hadn't noticed suddenly opened."
"Who was it?"
"Two men. One I recognized as a smuggler who has come to the hospital several times to sell heroin to the marines. The other was a stranger.
"They put a hood over my head. Then they tied my hands behind my back. Then I felt one of the men's hands up my skirt, his fingers digging between my asshole and my cunt.
"I could hear them laughing softly to themselves.
"But Sandy, that was the only sound they made. They didn't speak at all, not once all the time they took us out and put us in the back of a big car.
"By the familiar sounds I could almost make out where they were taking us, but then the car turned off and I became lost.
"Inside this house where we are now, the men took off the hood. Then they made me undress you and myself. They forced me to lick your cunt and tickle your asshole. Then they told me to stick my fingers in it and kiss your nipples at the same time. And I did this, but I wasn't doing it quite to their liking, I suppose."
I felt down to my pussy. It was soaking wet. I felt as though I had come.
"What happened then?" I asked, and this was the first time I saw the welts on her pretty bottom, belt size welts running every which way across her lively flesh. But there was no blood. Her bottom had been severely punished, that was for sure, but there were no lacerations, only the sweet undercurves close to her pussy and her darling asshole were blazing with a bright red color.
"That was when they started to spank and whip me, both men at the same time. The brooding one took off his belt and made me lay down on top of you and he began making the belt sing as he whirred it against my bottom. I can still smell it and hear it hissing when he'd strike me with it.
"And the harder he punished me, the harder I'd rub against your naked body. I could feel your pussy close against my pussy. My breasts were pushing your breasts. The belt made me come more than once.
"I couldn't believe that pain could give me so much pleasure, Sandy. I couldn't believe it until he began to whip the belt between my thighs, over my pussy from the back, the end of the belt cutting into my soft cunt lips. Oh, God, did it hurt and I was screaming, and when I'd scream, the other smuggler would lash my back and the soles of my feet with a switch.
"It was horrible and I was sweating and kissing you and fucking your pussy with my pussy and rubbing tight all over you. The pain was so terrific I even scratched your breasts but I didn't mean to. I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like a wild animal every time the whip and the switch would sing against me, almost killing my pussy and my back and my feet.
"I knew better than to fight back. Not against those two. I just bided my time because I knew that men like these soon tired of what they were doing.
I listened to her with interest. I couldn't believe she was taking the whole dreadful adventure so lightly.
"Well, tell me, Panny, how long are we to be here? Do you know anything? Anything at all?"
"Yes," Panny sighed. "I overheard the brooding one say they had to be down at the wharf until 23 hours and I've already figured out how to leave here, but I couldn't go alone. I was waiting for you to wake up, dear one."
I must give a lot of credit to the cunningness of the young Vietnamese girls of whom Panny was only one. She was able to smuggle both of us out of the house with ease.
It took about an hour of conniving, but she did it. And shortly we were in a taxi heading back to Saigon. The price we paid the taxi driver wasn't too dear after all. It cost us an hour with him, the driver fucking both of us up our assholes while the other sucked on his balls and whipped his ass...
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Well, I'm truly glad now as I sit here and I'm about to end this segment of my story about Viet Nam and the awful hospital. Oh, yes, there are a thousand other dirty, unholy stories to tell, but at least I've gotten this much off my chest.
Last night little Mike here read it all back to me. I made a lot of small changes, but it's still the whole truth.
I realized as I listened to him, and this was the first time in a week that I'd permitted Mike to use his voice, that there's so much that I had to leave out.
This is because so many of the stories have a tendency to repeat themselves.
It's not that they're not interesting just because they're variations on a theme... let us say that there's surely another place for them, for example, the stories that happened to me when I was completely off my rocker those first two weeks out in Palo Alto.
... the story about Mr. Alfred and Miss Baker that took place in the woods one black night when they took me out without anyone seeing.
... how they tied me to a tree stump, making me bend over, completely naked while they both took turns whipping my naked buttocks and slapping my breasts cruelly with sticks they found on the ground.
... Mr. Alfred finally fucking me up my asshole while Miss Baker thrashed him and lacerated his bleeding bottom to excite him further, laughing at the top of her lungs as I'd squeal and scream with pain as the whip or the switches they used damaged my milky white flesh.
... or the anguish I suffered when Miss Baker would ride on my back, Mr. Alfred poking his prick up against my ass as I was forced to carry Miss Baker's weight for an hour or so until Mr. Alfred, stark- naked in the dark night, finally urged his prick into my asshole, not listening to my screams, fucking my asshole, pumping and pumping his large fat black cock in and out until I'd be reeling in agony, pains racing over my body, penetrating my cunt as he inflicted biting painful jabs with the whip handle.
I can still hear the moans that came out of my bleeding mouth after Miss Baker had worked on it, slapping my face without pity until I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from screaming. This happened right in the hospital ward with patients all around.
And if I'd let out even a whimper, I knew Mr. Alfred would keep his promise and imprison me in the seclusion room on the flight deck.
Well, yes. Mike finished reading the whole manuscript. Then I decided to untie him to give him a little rest before I took him out to eat.
You see, I'd promised him a feast if he obeyed me down to the end, and he really had done this. Poor thing. But how he had suffered!
He willingly submitted to wearing the wig I'd bought for him. Actually, from the rear he looked kind of like a male hippy. But from the front, wearing his new padded brassiere and the tight corset which snarled up around his prick and his hairy balls, keeping them tight between his crotch, Mike looked very much the girl wearing skin-tight Levi's and the high spike heels I'd bought for him.
He wore heavy earrings which swung heavily from his pierced earlobes. I made up his eyes and they were sultry. I painted his full, sensual lips with crimson lip rouge.
He teetered on the spike heels. I had forbidden him to speak and he merely looked at me, but I could see a kind of worshipping gleam in his eyes.
Deep down I knew he liked to be dressed up like a pretty young girl.
Isn't that true, Mike?
(It's true, Sandy.)
So, out we went and the first mistake he made was to open his mouth to the taxi driver when I'd just given him the name of the place we were going to as a reward for Mike's typing my dictation.
That was his first and last mistake!
I told the driver to turn around and take us back to Mike's apartment.
Once upstairs I began to whip his bottom over the Levi's. He didn't like this at all! The whip stung more than ever and Mike was flinching and moaning every time I'd strike.
Then I forced him back into the rear room. He stood meekly up against the iron gate that fitted the vertical and horizontal length and width of the window.
This was Mike's protection against burglars.
Using the chains I'd bought especially for this purpose--and Mike knew nothing about then--I chained his wrists to the window, his arms stretched up close to the top of the iron grill.
Then I unbuckled his belt and dragged down his Levi's to just below his buttocks.
I fondled his ass cheeks. They were still warm from the whipping I'd given them over the material of his Levi's.
I grabbed hold of his balls from between his thighs. I squeezed them and he howled in pain. Then I held onto his stiffening prick and squeezed that, using my finger nails to dig into the hardening flesh of his growing cock.
Then I scraped my nails, now really sharp and dangerous over his buttocks and down the outside and then back up the inside of his hairy thighs. Then I jabbed two fingers roughly, straight up his tight asshole.
He screamed. Then he roared with pain as I worked my fingers in and out, tearing the soft tissue of his asshole.
He was begging me to stop.
Remember how you begged me, Mike?
(Yes.)
And did I stop, Mike?
(No.)
No, I didn't stop. I grabbed hold of his prick and balls with my left hand and kept finger fucking up his ass hole at the same time I toasted his prick and his balls with my right hand.
His howling, Mike's screams and his pleading voice were sweet music to my ears.
Leaving him hang up there on the chains for a while, I made something to eat and had a couple of drinks, almost forgetting about poor Mike and how painful it must be for him hanging half-naked from his wrists on the iron gate.
Finally I relented. I went back into the rear room.
Mike was hanging his head. He was in agony! He tried to say something to me but his mouth was dry. He had been crying!
Once more he pleaded and begged me to untie his hands. He complained that his wrists were growing numb.
"That's not all that's going to be numb," I told him.
I sat down in back of him, after dragging in the heavy hassock from the other room. I began to lick his buttocks.
When I saw he was liking this, I stopped. No point in giving him too much pleasure, right, Mike?
(--)
Ha, he makes me smile. What he's doing is remembering what happened next. Aren't you, Mike?
(Yes... )
I dragged his Levi's down to his ankles. Then I ran and got the bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. I poured the oil into his high heeled spikes while he stood there, hanging from the chains.
Then I tore off his silky blouse. Next came the padded bra. Then I took another chain and lashed his ankles together. I tied his ankles with a wire rope to the bottom of the grilled gate.
I roped his waist to the grill also. Now he was stark-naked, except for the spike heels. He looked ridiculous from the rear.
Then, I had a new idea. I loved to experiment with Mike. He's such a willing victim. He loves bondage and he just adores being whipped and humiliated by me.
Don't you Mike, darling?
(Yes.)
You had better say yes, Mike!
Well, I made him stand sideways, his left side up against the grill. I wove a strand of the wire rope around his neck and tied this securely to the grill. If he moved to try to face the grill, the pain and the pressure on his neck would be unbearable.
So now I had access to both his front and his back.
This seemed ideal for what I had in mind.
I stood up on the hassock. I poured the whole contents of the bottle of olive oil down over his head. It covered his body, dribbling down over his prick, running in little streamlets between the crack of his ass, coating his balls and his stiff prick with greasy oil.
I picked up two switches, one in either hand.
Facing him, I began his punishment, his torture for having disobeyed me, speaking to the taxi driver when I'd expressly forbidden it!
Mike was screaming, howling as I wielded the two evil switches.
First I tamed his prick, whipping the hell out of it until it began to droop and become flaccid. Then I boiled his balls in oil, I'd guess you'd say, because the oil from his hairy chest was dripping down over his belly and covering his balls.
I used the other switch to tame his ass cheeks at the same time I thwacked his balls and his prick, Mike squealing in horror when the switch would curl around his balls, setting them on fire, Mike squirming and wriggling as he tried valiantly to escape the fiery blows from the damaging switches.
I alternated my counting and would lash with the left hand against his painful buttocks, then stopping this, continue to beat and flail his prick and his balls.
I would flog down the front of the back of his legs and this was more painful than you can imagine because now his hairy legs were also coated with the olive oil.
Now Mike was hanging in his chains. His shivering trembling body was limp. The only part of him that seemed to be alive were his ears which were perked to listen to the whistling, sizzling switch as I'd cook his legs or his balls, or suddenly transfer my attention to his reddening buttocks.
I rested briefly from torturing him. I sipped thoughtfully from my glass of whisky. I lit a cigarette and going up close to him, applied the lighted burning tip of the cigarette to his tender, boy-like nipples. He winced and screamed when he'd felt the heat of the cigarette.
It was about here that I decided to blindfold him. He resisted and begged me to let him at least see what was happening, but I refused!
Then I played a mean, cruel trick on him.
Taking one of the ice cubes from my drink, I applied it to his nipples, telling him again that I was going to burn them off with the cigarette.
He howled like a maddened dog, then he whimpered and flinched every time I'd brush the cold ice cube across his breast, leaving a path of flame... as he thought.
He began to heave. His breath was coming faster and faster, and it was interesting to notice how his prick was stiffening again.
When I tried of this, I stuck one of the switches up his asshole. He hated me for this, but in a matter of minutes while I would snap at his balls while holding his greasy cock in my hand, he would begin to writhe and wiggle his buttocks, obviously enjoying the torture.
I squeezed his balls then. And he came! God, his prick exploded right in my hand!!
He crumbled in the chains. His body hung loosely. His head fell forward on his chest. His blindfold still held and I ripped it off.
Then I unchained his wrists and he fell down onto the floor. I straddled him and lowered my bursting, fiery pussy over his sweating, oil-covered face.
I wanted to smother him and I nearly did.
When I felt him struggling less and less, I finally got up. I released him. Whipping him without mercy all over his greasy body, I forced him back to the typewriter here on his hands and knees.
I got the hassock and made him sit his burning ass on it and told him to type down what I was going to describe.
