Chapter Twelve

Naked and splay-legged (another defining characteristic of his new existence), Karl hung helplessly in the sling as it carried him back into the bathroom. The entire day lay ahead of him, no doubt packed with challenges and developments. Freed of the condom again at last, he jutted up as urgently as ever, a combination of morning wood, submissive excitement and the effect of Nurse Drake in that filmy nightgown. Even tousled from sleep she was enormously alluring.

Padding along barefoot next to him, lift control in hand as she moved him along the track, she propelled him past the tub toward the oversize toilet at the end. Once Karl was dangling over this she turned his body to face back toward the bath and pulled on a single rubber glove. It was time for an always uncomfortable and embarrassing biweekly necessity.

Actually as long as he was prudent in his diet it wasn’t too bad. If he let himself get constipated there would be complications of course – and of course Doreen’s heaven of accessibility here was superbly equipped to deal with them. But with the aid of a simple suppository his inert body should be coaxed to offload its waste easily enough.

Nurse Drake had that waxy, bullet-shaped pill in hand already. Gloved fingers glistening, she laid her other palm high on Karl’s thigh as she reached underneath the rearing monster. One of those slick fingertips, the middle one, found his exit immediately, lubing and rubbing gently. Patient yet persistent it waited out a series of reflexive spasms. Then he felt that hard little bullet press into him. This was followed by that insistent finger, pushing it in deep. The monster raged, Karl gasped and Doreen gave him a sly grin.

“Does that excite you, little slut?”

Karl did his best to keep his voice even.

“No, Goddess. You excite me. When anyone else does that it’s a repellent violation. But any kind of physical intimacy with you is its own reward – even something as embarrassing and uncomfortable as that. “

“Cleverly said, boy. I’m flattered.”

Nurse Drake’s finger slipped out of him, a relief in more ways than one. Karl didn’t really care to confront the subject further. He seized on the chance for a change.

“I had the dream again last night. Only it went way off the usual track, even more so than the night before. It was clearly influenced by my new therapy and treatment, very encouragingly so. It didn’t yank me out of sleep, make me cry or want to kill myself either.”

Doreen pulled off the glove and disposed of it. Then she moved up cuddling-close, twiddling with a lock of his hair and swaddling him with her solicitous presence. Her eyes were warn and kind and keenly interested as they bored into his.

“Tell me about it, darling.”

Karl detailed it all, from his reaction at the costume presented him to his disappearance into the dungeon. This dream didn’t require interpretation, what it all represented was obvious. By the time he’d finished – and Doreen had kissed him and delightedly agreed that he showed exciting progress – the suppository had done its job too. Of course to ensure that evacuation was complete Nurse Drake slid that middle finger in again, probing with its entire length while Karl slouched split-wide and groaning. Satisfied at last she withdrew, started the tub filling and transferred him over into it.

From here the routine was already established: Doreen bathed and shaved and did the same to Karl. Of course there was one enormous difference.

The threat of urinary infections aside, being encased in a condom almost around the clock isn’t particularly healthy for the skin of the penis. After lovingly scrubbing this to an absurd redundancy Nurse Drake again filled a palm with some medicated lotion. Again she smeared this liberally all over his insanely straining salute to her, and again she took a possessive grip with her fist. Only this time there was no galvanizing flurry of jerks. Instead she pumped him with exquisite slowness, pausing to rub that moisturizer all around the contours of the helmet and tip before resuming her tightly squeezing strokes. Though he was practically hyperventilating with arousal and weeping with need, Karl didn’t even think of begging for more.

What was therapeutic yesterday would not be today, or any time again soon.

This was incentive and suffering in one, and was his rightful lot until he proved his worthiness to Doreen by doing just what she’d said: climbing out of his wheelchair and fucking her like a man. Until that happened expecting orgasm was an affront to the Goddess. Worse, it was counterproductive to his recovery. With this tacit understanding hanging heavy in the air between them Karl treasured and endured an eternity of delicious torment as Doreen – who loved the power rush of milking a boy after all – leisurely pleasured his member almost to madness yet never quite to climax. He was still sporting an absolutely ravening monster when he was rinsed off, combed out and transferred to the physical therapy mat.

Again Nurse Drake donned her uniform and put Karl through hours of grueling stretching and passive range of motion exercises. Again the atmosphere was supercharged with erotic domination with no sexual release available – at least for Karl. Nurse Drake on the other hand wrapped up their session by temporarily stripping off her uniform shorts and vigorously exercising her mistress’ privilege. Pinned to the mat by her pussy, Karl serviced this frantically and then endured the most wanton and brutal use when his efforts again proved inadequate. In the end Doreen climaxed hard enough for both of them, and afterwards they again shared their lunch companionably on the mat. The monster was lulled long enough for the catheter to be reapplied. And with that it was treatment time.

After clearing the remains of their meal, Nurse Drake left Karl propped on a wedge with his legs bent and spread while she strode to the handsome oak cabinets he had briefly admired and then dismissed into the background. When she flung these open he saw the folly of that.

Naturally they were filled with implements of bondage and discipline: tools and toys in numberless profusion yet meticulous order. From among this kinky cornucopia Doreen chose a simple coil of white cotton rope and an even simpler wooden paddle. As she carried these back over to Karl (he was twitching in his rubber prison already, damn him) she met the morphing fear-lust-veneration-resolution in his face with somber necessity.

“Now you truly begin paying your debt to femininity. You will be tied up and punished for your failings. As you can see, we will begin this daily obligation on a very elemental level: one length of rope, one piece of wood. The demands on you will rise as you become accustomed to suffering. I suppose we could begin even more simply by laying you across my lap for a barehanded spanking. But you’d hardly consider that a punishment, would you little slut?”

“That sounds like a loving delight ma’am.”

“Well, perhaps we can indulge our affection that way in bed together once in a while, as foreplay before I use you. This will be a more serious business. It pains and saddens me to have to hurt you little slut. I truly love you like no other. But we are agreed this is necessary, yes?”

“It is absolutely necessary ma’am. Please don’t be concerned for me.”

“I will always be concerned for you darling. That’s what love is. But the needs of your treatment must always outweigh any personal feelings I may have. I have a professional and ethical obligation to try and cure you, and this is the only way I see any hope.”

“I understand, my beloved. Please proceed.”

“Very well. Let us begin by binding your arms.”

Nurse Drake sat Karl up until she could lean him forward. Then sitting bent way over with his face between his spread legs he felt his arms pulled around behind him and the first touch of rope against his naked flesh.

Surely he would come to know this woefully well. Yet already he was as tumescent as the condom would allow, images from his dreams overlaying the sight of his stunted hardness throbbing at him even as their echoes added a fraught edge to his excited determination to atone. Lovely Doreen – authoritative Nurse Drake, all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful embodiment of the female godhead – was putting him into proper bondage at last. She was taking advantage of his paralyzed helplessness to make him even more helpless. Then even should a spontaneous recovery miraculously occur he would still be powerless to resist whatever she chose to do to him. The submissive frisson that accompanied this perception was head-swimmingly intense. Karl felt a brief flash of worry as the rope was wound and tightened all about him.

What if he was so perverse by now that he enjoyed this too much? What if even the most outrageous suffering failed to relieve his guilt because it didn’t really qualify as punishment? It recalled the old riddle: if a masochist is damned, is he sent to heaven or hell? Unsettling as it was however this paradox was soon swept away by the immediacy of the experience.

Before long Karl’s arms were bound together crosswise behind his back, the overlapping forearms perpendicular to his spine. His upper arms too were bound tightly to his torso, the rope expertly crafted into a simple yet supremely effective restraining harness. He was ready to be positioned and disciplined. Nothing short of an earthquake could stop it.

Nurse Drake nudged the wedge (actually an equilateral triangular prism according to Karl’s last geometry text) over next to them. Well over two feet high, this was about four long. Once she had it set to her liking she demonstrated that impressive strength, knowledge of body mechanics and the handiness of having rope handles by flipping Karl over onto it. Belly down with his waist folded over the apex, he found his face pressed to the mat, his attempted erection bent back on itself by the wedge and his up-thrust buttocks at his highest point. His face was already flushing as gravity pulled blood down into his head when his legs were once again yanked widely apart: more of that postural humiliation. Experimentally he turned his head from side to side, waiting in quivering suspense while he tried to keep an eye on his nurse. Already rather uncomfortable with that apex cutting into his gut and the amount of weight being borne by his face, Karl let out an unconscious, desperately erotic whimper when she leaned down to thrust a folded-up wad of linen into his mouth. This was not a gag, as he at first feared, because he was free to spit it out at need. It was a consideration rather: something to bite down on in moments of great pain. And with that Nurse Drake took up her paddle.

Roughly the size and shape of a racquetball racquet, Karl judged this to be solid maple half an inch thick: at least five pounds of pressure-treated hardwood. Unsmiling now yet showing no sign of animosity or even condemnation, Nurse Drake moved to stand beside him.

She tugged briefly at her uniform, freeing the spandex where it might possibly bind her anywhere. Then she set herself, measured arcs and angles, and finally used the full swing of her arm, nearly the whole of her strength and all her love and dominion and determination to heal him to strike the first blow of Karl’s redemption.

It was a resounding blow. Oh how it resounded! Both in terms of sound waves bouncing around that big open space and reverberations knelling through Karl’s troubled psyche the instant burst with significance.

The sharp clap of wood against his ass was dramatic. Yet the explosion of stinging pain that came with it seemed like the opening salvo in a war to determine the fate of all existence – or at least his own. Aided immeasurably by his love and lust for the author of this assault Karl was easily equal to it. Biting down hard as intended, he contained that detonation with only a grunt, and one that expressed as much determination to persevere as physical distress.

One, he recited to himself, as Doreen showed no inclination to count or do other than monitor his reactions and condition as she drew back for another blow. Two!

And so it began. Bent distressingly over that triangle Karl finally got a proper inkling of what his year of suffering held for him. The most important revelation delivered (and ironically the one providing the most relief), was the confirmation that he was not a masochist.

For the first dozen or so blows Karl remained wildly aroused, true. His love and lust and the exaltation of submission had him glorying in his helplessness and quickly climbing pain. Even at double that number he held onto the bitter satisfaction that he was atoning properly at last, that the specter of his former girlfriend was finally on its way to being mollified. After that however the cumulative excruciation of that paddle smacking relentlessly against him drove everything but agony from his awareness.

Twisted he might be, but actually enjoying such suffering was as far beyond Karl’s current ability as leaping up and accepting that proffered trip to Maui. He could only weep unceasingly, bite down hard at every thunderclap smack and resist the impulse to gaze at his goddess while she punished him.

He didn’t want Nurse Drake to see weakness or pleading in his eyes, to think he might be mutely begging for her to relent or trying to influence her in any way. Goddess knew what he needed, she had a plan to redeem him and every step and nuance of this treatment had to be left to her discretion. She would beat him as long as was necessary, not one stroke more or less, and he would remain accepting and grateful for her efforts throughout. Yet it was so hard not to salve his hurts and try to regain his arousal by ogling her!

Doreen was still fantastically attractive in spandex, particularly after her exertions had brought a rosy flush to that perfect face. Those wonderful breasts bobbed just with the heaviness of her respiration. Perfect beyond words too was her demeanor as she beat him.

Not for Nurse Drake were the cheesy exhortations, accusations and degrading harangues of the actresses in those porn videos. She remained silent, somber and remote as she wielded the paddle, only a hint of regret leaking through her professional detachment.

Consummately professional too remained her infliction of the pain he needed to heal. Despite the force and vigor with she struck him (again and again and again) Nurse Drake exercised exquisite care and precision in the delivery of each blow. Mindful of complications presented by his disability she never once broke or even overly abraded the skin of his increasing swollen, deeply bruised buttocks. Having lost count somewhere around sixty, Karl had no real idea how many of those terrible swats he endured as the afternoon proceeded. He measured his endurance by the chafing of his teary face on the mat, the growing sogginess of the wad of cloth he grimly bit down upon, by the increasing difficulty of drawing breath with that padded but still uncompromising triangle compressing his belly and the constantly growing conflagration that had replaced his ass. All he knew was that when the blows stopped falling at last his worship, determination and genuine repentance remained intact

Craning around to see Nurse Drake setting down the paddle in favor of the bottle of soothing lotion she’d used on the monster earlier (this fellow was shriveled up in hugely chastened retreat), Karl could only sob with relief even as his love ballooned anew.

“You can spit that wad out now, little slut. I think that will do for an introductory session. As always, the next test will be sterner. But also as always I’m very happy and proud of how you handled this one. You are a rare and special young man. You are more worthy of redemption than anyone I’ve ever treated. I truly love you dearly.”

While she lavished him with such praise and affection Nurse Drake tenderly rubbed that lotion into Karl’s enflamed (and still fiercely flaming) buttocks. Under this dual soothing he soon calmed. His wracking sobs dwindled to sniffles. Obediently he worked his teeth free of the deep indents they’d clamped into the cloth and he spit that out gasping.

Messy strings of slaver still connected him to it and that brought one last sob of miserable degradation – unworthy of a little slut perhaps but automatic. Once she had treated the damage she’d inflicted however Doreen was there to solicitously kneel beside him. Wiping his lips and chin, she beamed at him in all his extravagant subjection. Then she leaned down to press a very wet and loving kiss deep into his tear-streaked cheek.

“God, you’re such a sexy young thing!” She gave him a growling little nuzzle that turned into a giggle. “Let’s get you back into my bed, darling. I don’t know how I’m ever going to allow you to leave it once you’re cured!”