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From: "rache" <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Last Ten Percent
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Date: Sun, 11 Sep 2005 06:10:03 -0400
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Copyright 2005 Rachael Ross all rights reserved.

There's an author's note, but it contains mild spoilers, so I put it at
the end.
Codes: M/F, Med, Amp, Rom, Reluct, BDSM, all my fav things, Crying &
Salvation

Short erotic fiction doesn't have to be totally meaningless, does it?
Intended for adults only. The author condones every single activity
portrayed in this story without hesitation or reservation. Thank you.

=-==-=-==-=


The Last Ten Percent
fiction by rache

There is a question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

The answer of course is, "Bad things happen to good people and what
are you going to do about it?"

What a noble sentiment that is.

Once upon a time I was an actress. Not a big one, mind you, just
commercials mostly, a few television shows as the pretty face in the
background. Even three films, and two lines. Not much of a resume, but
I was working.

I was tall once too. Very nearly 5'10" and I was proud of my legs,
I worked hard on them. I danced, worked out, tanned, and babied them.
My butt was tight and pert, my tummy smooth and my breasts perfect
36C's, firm and natural. I spent a fortune on my hair, to keep it
long and blonde and fine as silk. I have a face made for the camera,
perfect teeth, a cute nose and eyes that can sell anything from Baby
Oil to Budweiser. My boyfriend drove a Porsche and my apartment was on
Melrose. Oh life was nice...like a dream.

And then I woke up.

I'd been in some sort of horrific accident, although I don't
remember it. Perhaps that's just God being merciful. I opened my eyes
and saw white. White everywhere, walls, ceiling, floor, sheets; my
world was white. And I went back to sleep. I dreamt of tying my shoes,
but I couldn't find them. I felt I needed to tie them, but I didn't
know why and I was becoming desperate. A voice was telling me,
whispering in my ear, "At least you'll never have to tie your shoes
again." I turned around, but there was nobody there.

I woke up again and tried to sit up, but I couldn't. I was so tired
and my body hurt. My throat was dry and I saw a plastic cup with a
built-in straw. I tried to reach for it, but my arms wouldn't move. A
nurse saw that I was awake and helped me. She asked how I was and I
asked her where my shoes were. She looked a little sad. I thought
perhaps people waking up in hospitals said a lot of strange things, so
she ought to have smiled at that, wouldn't you think? But she
didn't.

They couldn't save my shoes. In fact they couldn't save my legs; it
took quite a while to glean that bit of information. It took longer to
find out that they hadn't been able to save my arms either. I
didn't look for a long time and they kept me sleepy anyway. When I
did look all I saw were stumps. My legs were now 9 inches long, ending
in white bandaged rounded stumps. I couldn't even move them. My arms
were even shorter, 6 inches each, with no fingers, no opposable thumbs.


"I can't even use a fucking doorknob!" I screamed at the 3
doctors, 4 nurses, a psychiatrist, a priest, and my father.
It was a crowded room, but they could leave anytime they wanted. Just
walk through the door.

They left one by one, promising to come back and take good care of me.
My father left me last and asked me if I needed anything. What a bad
joke. I had a list longer than my arm. "Yeah Dad, I need Dr.
Kevorkian's phone number." He didn't say anything.

Superman called me. Even sent me flowers, but at least he still looks
normal. I couldn't hold the phone and I didn't have anything to say
anyway. It must be nice to be strong like Superman. I'm not. I'm a
worm.

My boyfriend came by once, and then he didn't anymore.

I watched when they changed bandages and the stumps healed nicely, or
so I was told. The scarring seemed terrible to me, but the doctors were
pleased. It took a long time and I had to start physical therapy. I was
never into BDSM, but that's what physical therapy is. Even without
any legs or arms, just a body and a head. It's a scene from Dante's
Inferno, except the fires consume me from the inside out.

Jeremy is a Doctor, who specialized in physical therapy, of all things.
He's 33, unmarried, tall with short black hair, green eyes, a hard
body and a great ass. He loves me, but I didn't know that at first. I
thought he hated me. I'd been transferred to a very exclusive and
private hospital not far from the city. It was where I would...recover.

"You keep sitting in that chair and you're gonna get a fat ass."
That was the first thing he ever said to me. He made a clucking sound
and jerked his head.

"So what? I lost 50 pounds, I can afford it." I was in the patient
lounge, staring out the window, sitting in my wheel chair.

Someone, some...foundation...was going to spring for an electric one,
with a little thing I could use with my mouth that would make it go
this way and that, but it hadn't come yet. So I sat and screamed when
I wanted a push.

"Well, my name is Jeremy and I've just dedicated my life to
fighting F.A.S. and you're my first patient."

"What's F.A.S.?"

"Fat Ass Syndrome." He grabbed my chair and started pushing me.

"Hey! What the fuck?" I looked over my shoulder at him. "I was
doing something there!"

"Oh? And what was that Jenny?" He kept pushing.

"I was getting ready to jump out the window and get some pizza, what
do you care?"

"Pizza?" He laughed. "Sounds good to me. But we need to change
your clothes first.

"You serious?" My mouth was watering. I'd been in that hospital
for 3 months and the Jello was killing me.

"Absolutely. But tonight, we have to do what I want to do."

"What do you want to do?"

"Sit-ups!" Jeremy chuckled.

"Yeah, right." I laughed too. How was I gonna do sit-ups with no
legs or arms? "Get me pizza and I'll do all the sit-ups you
want."

We went into my room, which was in reality a three room apartment more
than anything else, with a sitting room, bath, and bedroom. I'd
basically moved in and the trucking company that had ruined my life was
paying for it, or their insurance was. It didn't really matter
anyway, I could have afforded it easy, they'd settled out of court
for $233,000,000.00 dollars. That's millions. My lawyer told me that
they'd saved that much just in punitive damages by settling. He
looked wistful when he told me how badly he wanted to wheel me, a
20-year-old, former Miss Teen Washington, quad-amputee into a
courtroom, but he'd made eighty mil anyway, so what was he
complaining about?

We went into my bedroom, large and spacious enough to easily
accommodate my wheelchair. Jeremy opened my closet. All my clothes were
there and he picked out a white skirt and a pink angora sweater for me.

"Wait, uh, I'm not sure about this."

"About what?"

"We're...going...out?" I felt very anxious suddenly, like I
couldn't breathe. "I thought we'd eat...here...or something."

"Here?" He laughed. "This is a hospital...No pizza for miles."
He laid my clothes on the bed and started taking off the patchwork
quilt I wore when I was in my chair. "We're gonna have to go to
Pizza Hut, Jenny."

"I changed my mind."

"No, you didn't." He undid the little safety belt that made sure
I couldn't fall out. "You're scared, that's okay. But you're
hungry too, and that's not okay."

"W-What are you doing?"

"I'm changing your clothes." Jeremy lifted me out of the chair
easily and laid me gently sideways on the bed like a baby. That's how
short I am now. "You can't go like that." He was saying.

I was wearing some old pajamas that I'd worn when I was 12, but I'd
outgrown them. The legs and arms, I mean, everything else still fit
okay as long as I didn't do the top two buttons. My father had saved
them and I didn't know exactly why, but I liked wearing them now.
They had pink bunnies on them.

"Aren't you going to get a...nurse? Or something?"

"I'm a doctor Jenny, don't worry. Besides, once I see you naked
then that'll be it...We'll never wonder or worry about it ever
again, right?"

"Uh...I'd feel better, I mean...I'd rather we just got a nurse
and she could..."

"Too late." He unbuttoned my pajama top while I was lying there and
exposed my body completely. He spread it like wings and moved me just a
little to get the stumps of my arms free. That didn't take much.
"There, see." He smiled at me as I blushed furiously. "Still the
professional."

I didn't say anything, I was too embarrassed. It was bad enough
looking the way I did, but to have a strange man see me, doctor or not,
was almost unbearable.

"Now, let's get these off." He undid the little drawstring and
pulled my bottoms down and off, so I just lay there in my panties and
nothing else. "Hmmm....Maybe we should change those too, what do you
think?"

"W-What?" I stared at him and my voice trembled a little.
"What?" I said it again.

"Your panties, let's find something else."

He pulled down my panties and I thought 'Why aren't you screaming,
Jen?' But I just closed my eyes and felt the heat rushing through me.
I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing my body naked, with just
four pathetic stumps sticking out uselessly. He had to be totally
repulsed by me.

"You're a beautiful woman, Jenny." I felt his hands touching my
skin, just the fingertips across my tummy and I inhaled sharply. "So
beautiful."

His hand moved to my breast and he squeezed it a little, rubbing his
thumb over my nipple and I felt it hardening despite my confusion.

"W-What are you doing?" I whispered.

"What do you think I'm doing?" He pinched my left nipple and
pulled it so that I gasped.

"I-I-I don't know..." I stammered.

"Do you want me to stop, Jenny?" He put his other hand on the soft
mound of my sex, stroking me.

"I d-don't know...I..." I didn't know what he was doing. I
hadn't thought of myself as a sexual being since...since before.

"Yes you do." He whispered. "Open your eyes, Jenny." He moved
to my other breast, flicking my nipple.

I opened my eyes and he smiled at me. "Do you want me to fuck you,
Jenny?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "No...No! Please...stop this! I...get
out!" I felt like I was waking up from a daydream. What was I doing?
What was he doing? Who did he think he was?

"And what if I say no, Jenny?" He pushed a finger into my slit and
I recoiled slightly. "What will you do then?"

"I...I'll scream." I said taking a deep breath.

"I don't think so." He grabbed my panties and shoved them into my
mouth.

Jeremy flipped me over easily, so I was lying on my stomach with my
face pressed to the mattress. "Let's do it this way, Jenny." He
removed his belt and doubled it in his fist. He began whipping my ass
hard, making soft grunting sounds as he swung that cruel leather belt
in slow measured strokes. I felt the pain of it exploding over and over
until I sobbed and felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I lost count
after 20 or so, it just didn't seem to matter after that. My body was
on fire, bathing in pain and humiliation.

But...Oh, there's always a 'but' isn't there? I felt another
warmth too, a deeper more urgent heat spreading out from my tummy. I
was helpless and it excited some juvenile part of me that had imagined
being taken by strange men. But that was before, when I was confused by
the changes my body went through during puberty. I was a woman now and
this wasn't right. It wasn't what I wanted...was it? I couldn't
tell anymore as I tried to grind my sex against the bed, flopping
weakly on my belly and enduring the deep frustrating agony of not even
being able to get off by myself. Everything I wanted was dependant on
this man, this stranger abusing me.

He stopped and I felt his fingers between my short thighs, spreading my
flesh and digging into my cunt. I was hot and wet and I struggled
against his touch, dreading what he'd do when he found out.

"I see you like that, Jenny." He chuckled and I sensed rather than
saw him undressing behind me. "I think you're ready for a good hard
fuck, what do you say?"

I moaned into the gag and Jeremy laughed again. "I knew you were a
slut." He straddled the stumps of my legs and rubbed the head of his
cock across my slit. I moved, as though I might somehow get away and
Jeremy slipped the belt over my head, making a noose of it through his
buckle and pulling it tight. "Fight it Jenny!" He whispered
fiercely and I felt him stab with his hips, driving his cock into my
aching vagina.

I groaned loudly and jerked with the sudden discomfort. But it wasn't
painful, in fact it felt good. I rocked my body, pulling against my
leash while Jeremy rode me with hard deep strokes. His cock felt huge
and probed me deeply until I could feel it crashing into the pillow of
my cervix. I cried out uselessly into my gag.

"You little bitch." Jeremy was slapping my ass while he fucked me.
"You love this don't you Jenny? Nod for me...Show me how much you
love my cock!"

I nodded vigorously as my orgasm peaked, stealing my senses and driving
me insane with lust. Jeremy felt my cunt tightening around him, milking
him with soft contractions and he let me have the moment. Then he
pulled out and I moaned at the emptiness.

"I'm going to take out your gag now." He said, pulling the
panties from my mouth and I sucked cool air gratefully. He sat in front
of me, spreading his legs straight on either side of my body. "Suck
my cock, slut." I nodded and bent my head, trying to catch the tip of
his long thick prick between my hungry lips. "Tell me how much you
love sucking cock, you little whore."

"I love sucking cock." I breathed, finally getting it and bathing
the crown with my tongue. I took him as deep as I could, until my mouth
was full and I loved it.

Jeremy grabbed me by the hair and lifted me off his cock. "Are you my
slut, Jenny?"

"Y-Yes" I whispered.

"Whose mouth is this?" He hooked a thumb between my lips and pulled
my head painfully.

"Y-yours...your mouth."

"And whose cunt is that between your stumps, bitch?"

"It's yours...your cunt...Master." I added and I was rewarded
when he pulled my mouth back down.

"Just remember that Jenny. You're mine now, forever. You
understand?" He stroked my face with his finger, spreading my tears
over my cheeks as I sucked.

"Mmmmmppphh..." Was the only sound I could make.

It was hard sucking Jeremy's cock like that though, doing reverse
crunches. I had no arms to push with and all the effort came from my
stomach and back muscles. I was sweating and getting tired from the
effort.

"Need help, bitch?" Jeremy laughed and took my head in his hands,
moving my face up and down while he fucked my mouth. "Open that
throat, Jenny. Come on...open her up for my cock, baby."

I was gagging and choking but Jeremy kept forcing until finally he
caught my throat at the right moment and the head popped in, sliding
deep so that my face was pressed against the dark tickling thatch of
his pubic hair.

"Ahhhh...fuck yeah!" he held me there and then let me up, coughing
and sputtering. A flood of saliva and his precum washed down around his
dick. "Good girl, Jenny. Do it again." He repeated this over and
over until I learned how to relax and take him in my throat anytime I
wanted...or he wanted. He throat fucked me for 10 minutes and it made
me sore and tender and I wondered how much longer it could go on when
he pulled me to his body hard and started pumping his hot cum straight
into my tummy.

When he finished, Jeremy lifted me carefully, rolling me over onto my
back while I drank the air around us. "See? That wasn't so bad, was
it?" He reached for the box of Kleenex on my nightstand and wiped at
my mouth. "Let's get you cleaned up and we'll get that pizza,
okay?" Jeremy smiled and kissed me. Softly at first and then deeply,
taking me into his arms and making love to me through our mouths.

I didn't know what I was feeling. Part of me hated him, hated his
easy violation of my body. Another part of me seemed to glow with an
invisible light, a warmth radiating through me. Someone liked me, found
me attractive somehow, and had kissed me. The only thing that seemed to
matter was the kiss at the end. Everything else, the humiliation and
discomfort, the abuse and cruelty, it didn't matter after that kiss.
He'd broken me and then, as if by magic, rebuilt me.

Jeremy gave me a sponge bath and my uncertainty returned, my
frustration. I'd have covered myself, if it had been possible. I
closed my eyes, trying to escape from him.

"Open your eyes." He said, washing my shoulders, and I shuddered
when I felt him lifting the stump of my left arm so he could wash
beneath it.

I kept them closed, wondering how he could bear to look at me. That was
the thing that bothered me, for just a moment I'd felt complete, and
now...I couldn't stand to see him seeing me, as I really was. But I
couldn't express that, even to a man who had seen every part of me,
who had touched me, made love to me. Instead I spoke of other things.

"You hurt me." I whispered. I could feel the warmth lingering in my
bruised flesh where Jeremy had whipped me.

"Yes." He agreed. "I did hurt you, Jenny."

"You..." I paused looking for the right words. "You didn't have to, you
know." I looked at him. "I-I would have...done it anyway..." I blushed
as I said that, feeling unhappy with myself suddenly. Firstly for not
resisting more, as if I could have, but you know what I mean. And
secondly for admitting to myself, and to Jeremy, that I'd liked it.

"But then you wouldn't have done the sit-ups." He chuckled. "Physical
therapy is...like that. The carrot and the stick, Jenny, and sometimes,
when you're lucky, the stick is the carrot."

I widened my eyes at him then. "Is that what I am? Lucky?" I snorted.
"Look at me! I can't even wash my face."

"You're beautiful Jenny and it has nothing to do with washing your
face. It doesn't matter about your arms and legs, your tits, your
ass...none of that. You're seeing yourself through other people's eyes,
Jen." He caressed my cheek gently, staring into my eyes. "See yourself
through my eyes."

I could see his emotion, his genuine sincerity shining in his gaze, bu
I looked away. Unable to bear it. I didn't want him to look at me that
way. It was...wrong. I didn't deserve it and I couldn't deal with it.
I'd seen myself and I knew I was grotesque now, ugly and obscene.
People would look at me and stare, or worse - look away.

We were quiet for a minute before he turned me over, so I lay on my
stomach with my head turned away from him. I could feel his gentle
hands on my ass, tracing the welts he'd left with his belt. I
expected him to do something more, to touch me in a more personal way.
To take me again, like he'd done earlier. I wanted it, though I
couldn't have admitted such a thing aloud. I could only close my
eyes, my body tense with hopeful expectation.

Jeremy, if he was aware of my desire, ignored it. He finished washing
me, and then we dressed. First himself and then me, doing it slowly as
if finding some hidden pleasure in doing for me what I could not. I
hadn't been comfortable wearing my old clothes, I'd avoided even
looking at them, spending the majority of my time in pajamas, or a
bathrobe. I felt my eyes growing damp as I looked down at myself,
propped up now, against the headboard of my bed like a stuffed animal.

The arms of my sweater hung there, useless and empty. The hem of my
skirt had once been just above my knees, and now, it just lay there,
like a child's blanket. "I can't go." I said and swallowed
hard. I dropped my chin down, so that my tears fell onto my breasts,
making small dark stains on my sweater.

"Yes you can." Jeremy replied, and his tone was simple, matter of
fact. He picked me up, even as I protested loudly, and set me in my
chair. "You can go and you will go."

"No!" I stared at him. "I don't want to! I changed my mind!"

"Sorry." He shrugged and started pushing me across my apartment.

"Jeremy! Stop! No!" I swore at him. "You bastard! Stop it!"

To my surprise, Jeremy did stop. "You know what your problem is?"
He asked me, stepping around so he was in front of me.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do know what my problem is!" I spat
back at him. "Do you?"

He grinned. "Yeah." He pushed me back into my bedroom suddenly.
"So let's do something about it!"

"What?" I turned my head, looking up at him without a clue. "What
are you talking about?"

"Your tits." He smiled as he unbuckled me from the chair and picked
me up. "Your problem is your tits, Jen."

"What are you talking about?" I looked at him incredulously. "My
tits are perfect."

"Exactly. They make you feel...inadequate...embarrassed about your
arms and legs." Jeremy explained, as if that almost made sense.

"I don't have any arms or legs!" I lay on the bed again as Jeremy
unbuttoned my sweater. "What are you doing?"

He stared at my ripe full breasts, beautiful and unmarred. My long pink
nipples hardening slightly under his gaze and Jeremy licked his lips.
He reached under my skirt, pulling down my panties and wadding them up.

"I'm gagging you." He laughed, pushing my panties in my mouth for
the second time that evening. "Because those tits need to be
punished!"

"Mmmnnnpph!" I wriggled and shook my head violently.

"Carrot and the stick, Jen." Jeremy said softly. "Physical therapy, in
my experience, is 30 percent physical, 30 percent mental, and 30
percent emotional. That last ten percent?" He smiled, looping his belt
in his hand. "That's just pain."

I watched with terror as he brought that supple tongue of leather down
in a slow, graceful arc. Everything was slower, it seemed, time
conspired with fear, transforming anticipation into an art form. My
last thought, just before the pain lanced across my skin was that I
didn't deserve this. But by then, it was too late and I realized that
Jeremy was wrong...That last ten percent? That's just love.

end
rache696@yahoo.com

There was a lot more to this, both already written and intended. But I
looked for a place to close it and a title, which often comes last for
me, and the very last sentences: "But by then...That's just love." came
into my head and the title seemed obvious. So I ended it there.

Largely it is the same old story of a girl falling in love with her
torturer. The story of my life. I wrote 90% of it back...when? Perhaps
2002? (You can tell by my reference to Christopher Reeves, among other
things) Just before I got married. When I needed to rationalize my own
relationships and why I love the man I do. There is a lot of my husband
in Jeremy, as I understood him then, much more than I am in Jenny...Or
maybe I'm lying about that. I have certainly felt amputated in the
past, from my friends and family, from society, which is the real
injury to Jenny - arms and legs being my poor attempt at a metaphor.
She's vulnerable physically, of course, but it's the emotional
vulnerability that is important, that she is being 'rehabilitated'
from. Did anyone get that deep into it? Nah. Who cares. Just another
weird amp story from rache, take it at face value.

The point is I don't need to finish it, the BDSM scenes I had written
were stereotypical and boring and the emotional content was repetitive
and better expressed in other things I've written since. I post what I
have here largely because I think the conversations are good. I always
like my conversations, I steal them from life. So, there we are.
Thanks. -rr

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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