Chapter Seventeen

While his year of punishment gathered momentum, Karl’s personal relationship with his redeemer became ever more mutually rewarding.

The routines Nurse Drake established rolled along undisturbed, setting a rhythm of predictability that was comforting when living at such extremes. And rather than stale with exclusivity their joy in each other’s company grew undiminished.

Infrequent interruptions like deliverymen aside, they might have been marooned away from civilization somewhere, the last survivors of a blasted habitat. They were almost the only people either of them ever saw, and yet every minute spent together remained a treasure. In love, enraptured, in awe of and utterly enthralled by her authority and allure, Karl wanted to pinch himself every time this icon smiled upon him. Long gone and forgotten were his fears of love being forever a source of anguish for him. Doreen meanwhile remained doting and possessive in her love, never quite able to shed the mantle his need and worship bestowed on her. Still she was utterly sincere and ever more eager in the incentive she increasingly lavished on him. As his physical therapy and treatment geared up, and as his education grew more impactful, so too did the interpersonal therapy climb in intensity. Though she kept him constantly tied up, posed in degrading postures or both, belittled him with a needling nickname and beat him into weeping abjection daily, their emotional bond only strengthened. The physical intimacies permitted likewise grew ever more rewarding – especially as these too increased.

Nurse Drake continued to use Karl for her pleasure: rudely, selfishly, and pitilessly at whim as the needs of his treatment dictated. Yet they often made sweetly romantic consensual love too, with a lot of stroking and kissing and blissful communion. Unfortunately Doreen never removed her gown for this, never crushed and ravished Karl with her breasts as he craved. Yet at least she had taken to stripping away his catheter for these occasions.

Between orgasms and over-the-lap spankings she would indulge in the teasing, toying and monster-baiting she took such delight in. Indeed all pretense of professionalism was dropped from his morning care as well. Bathing, shaving, medicating and moisturizing him devolved into ever more extended, openly deliberate cock-teasing sessions. Between bed and bath Karl found himself manually stimulated for hours total each day. Still Nurse Drake’s reading of his arousal remained infallible, nor did she ever get tempted or too carried away. As the weeks built into months of sexual overload without orgasm, he became more crazed by carnal frustration than ever in his life. And though he never begged for climax or even made overt reference to his desperation, the inexorably building testosterone began to infect his mood and finally his dreams.

The morning after one especially significant subconscious drama saw him reciting the details for his savior in the manner they’d settled upon. They were in the bath, with a little digital audio recorder set up nearby for documentation. Karl had been bathed and shaved but not lotioned yet, and he jutted upright in exquisite neediness. Nurse Drake took him into her bare hand but merely held him passively, employing her patented peter-meter to monitor the level of his arousal. She lay a gentling other hand on his chest and smiled encouragingly.

“Okay darling, tell me about last night. You nearly got away with one.”

Indeed he had. Karl took a deep, steadying breath. Then he began to recount his latest adventure in the dungeon.

Oh Goddess, his shoulders were absolutely killing him!

This was a regular component of his torture no matter what Krista and the mob were doing to him. It was a nagging constant he could neither understand nor alter. This time however they’d obliged him with a reason for those joints to feel dislocated.

No dungeon could be without a rack, and one this expansive boasted several. Karl was stretched over the semicircular one. Blood pounded in both his hanging head and the monstrous one straining at his apex. Standing nearby, his sixth grade teacher turned a spoked wheel, drawing on the huge chains shackled to his wrists and ankles, stretching the agonized arch of his body further. Now not the first or last but every vertebra in his spine felt on the brink of shattering – or flying apart in every direction like a snapped string of beads. Meanwhile every vicious vixen in the thousand or so surrounding him now filed past in barely restrained order. One on each side, each beat him as hard as she could for long as she could while keeping the lines slowly moving. Stretched in tendon-tearing distension, whipped and caned and flogged and pummeled relentlessly, Karl nevertheless persisted in his worst sin. Trapped in hell as he was, his penis still strained insanely toward heaven.

Targeted for a concentration of abuse, this blasphemous offense hurt worst of all. It hurt like it was caught in a vise somehow despite rearing so rampantly upright. Still it told all of the truth about him anyone needed to know.

Even in his suicidally sincere contrition he remained an impudent little slut, somehow daring to flaunt his lust for his torturers, and more, for his intended executioner. Indeed he was so maddened with an inexplicable intensity of need that that thought (or maybe just that horribly importunate insult itself) seemed to summon her.

The circling and whipping stopped. The mob crowded close, an envelopment of seething female fury. Sexy cop Krista stepped forth, still sneering hatefully and again brandishing those gleaming gardening shears. A scene interrupted was about to be resumed.

She would fix his problem for him; indeed it had been put off far too long already! He was never going to earn forgiveness, so why should they indulge the nurse’ decree? She wasn’t here. Yet there was lamentably little sport in just a simple shearing, apotheoic as it might be. They needed a test of his discipline and commitment to earning redemption first. As Krista opened the shears and pressed them to his strangely hairless pubis, bracketing the rigid root with those razor-sharp blades, Karl groaned and strained more desperately upright than ever.

Conflicting impulses combined. Guilt and regret yearned to offer abnegation, to sacrifice the part of him so emblematic of his crimes in attempt to atone. At the same time love and rapture, body chemistry and sheer genetic drive raved for ejaculation. Even as these opposing imperatives had his agony at throbbing peak though, the vise-like cramping that always seemed to devil him suddenly released. In what looked like its last moments the monster burst whatever mysterious bonds had been bedeviling it. Exultant in escape, it stretched more ravenously forth than ever before. Nearly swooning with terror, shame and that absolutely deranging lust, Karl looked up from his inverted vantage to see another cruel dominatrix step up opposite of Krista.

With a wave of surreality but little shock he saw that this was the tennis star Serena Williams. Her lusciously muscular form was encased in a black latex cat suit; she carried a cat o’ nine tails and a silver chain bound up her corn-rowed braids. Towering over him, she bent down and with only an infinitely spiteful sneer took the ravening monster into her mouth. Blades poised on a hair-trigger reflex, Krista commanded her condemned lover’s attention even as mind-blowing pleasure he was hideously unworthy of overwhelmed him.

“Ejaculation means emasculation, criminal. One drop of spew comes out of you and I cut the whole thing off!”

Thick lips gripped him. They slid up and down with a swiftness and confidence that was completely beyond Karl’s experience. They engulfed him with hot, wet, pneumatic suction. It felt just like having sex but even better. As he was fellated out of his dreaming mind he heard the women begin chanting.

“Spew! Spew! Spew! Spew! Spew!”

Vociferously they insisted he climax, an unrefusable order from the representatives of femininity. Yet should he obey, his penis would be amputated before he expelled a second drop. Karl’s tortured body tried to writhe in his upset. But of course he was already stretched to within an ace of dislocation. It didn’t matter anyway. Despite his terror he was going to lose his load and manhood regardless. His balls were churning like the chamber under Old Faithful – if that geyser had been plugged for about a billion years. It certainly felt that long since his last climax.

Serena meanwhile was working with demanding fervency, grunting with effort as her bobbing and suckling accelerated. The chanting rose to a ferocious volume as the mob felt his resistance crumbling. If he couldn’t control his sick lusts, if he was incapable of maintaining proper piety in the face of the Goddess, if his discipline was so lacking and his commitment to redemption so shallow then he was doomed to Krista’s noose anyway.

Weeping in the extremity of his desperation, Karl tried to use the pain savaging him as a distraction. It was no use. The monster had been caged and baited beyond all endurance. Now it would empty in cataclysmic fashion, heedless of the fact that this incredibly convulsive ejaculation would be its last. Propelled toward this apocalypse, Karl surrendered to it at last. In an ecstasy of abnegation he even anticipated that savage amputation almost as much as orgasm.

Let him be shriven and then hung; that was what he deserved. Nurse Drake’s judgment and encouragement were nothing in the face of the mob’s (and his own) demand for punishment. Yet somehow he sensed her with him still: even in the frenzy of fellatio pleasuring it he seemed to feel her hand gripping his raging hard-on, its clutch too tactile for just dreaming.

Though completely passive, it seemed to be insisting he hold out. But then his intolerable arousal and ascendant death-wish overwhelmed everything else.

Climax was imminent, it was happening; he was a split-second from ecstasy and agony and blessedly welcome doom. Yet even as his churning balls clenched, as his erection spasmed in prelude, those shears closed on him. Instead of a swift slicing and a spout of mingled blood and come though, for some reason they acted like pliers, clamping his root with a terrible pinching agony worse than anything yet.

Stymied, his orgasm-that-never-was seemed to rebound throughout his body, pain and unendurable frustration wracking him so badly he thrashed in his shackles. His shoulders and back screamed anew and the dungeon dissolved around him in his apocalyptic excruciation…

“Then I woke up. My body was spasming and wrenching against the ropes. The condom had been pushed off. I guess the latest puffiness subsided during the night, making the larger size too loose to resist the pressure of my erection. Of course the hand I felt was real. I must have awakened you in my panting and moaning. You felt for me, found the condom off, and monitored my excitement. Just when I was about to come, you pinched me and…”

“And I stopped you, darling. I’m sorry about that, but I had to.”

Nurse Drake’s grip had stopped serving as a peter-meter. Now as if in apology it was pumping him slowly up and down, stimulating Karl beyond belief. He groaned in misery and ecstasy, emotions and implications from the dream still lingering distressingly.

Doreen didn’t need to point out its meaning, that was obvious: he still wasn’t close to forgiving himself yet. Nor did they need acknowledge more than briefly how her necessary cruelty had serendipitously saved him. Instead she had another issue to address.

“You are not worthy of climaxing again yet. However, your dream was wrong about your unworthiness for other pleasures. You see, using my hands to madden a man isn’t the only thing that gives your goddess a delightful power rush. There are other ways I can show you my love.”

Even without the usual lotion her expert monster-baiting already had Karl right back in the grip of the deranged desperation he knew day and night. He sensed what was coming and braced himself: for more maddened arousal than he thought he could stand, for more ecstatic blessedness than almost any man deserved, and for an anguished battle against himself.

“I was intending to put this off until after my first report. But you have tempted me too dearly, little slut. Maybe I can’t make proper love to you yet. But I can certainly provide more incentive to go along with the new challenges your treatment is about to pose.”

With that Doreen leaned down and accepted the monster into her own mouth. Her methodical pumping didn’t change but with her gripping lips kissing the top of her fist Karl was plunged into warmth and wetness with every stroke. From soft pitted tip over flared rim to about three inches down that sliding suction immersed him in exactly the kind of unbearable ecstasy he’d expected. Of course only two girls had ever done this for him, and neither had relished the task or developed any passion or talent for it. The dream of Serena was mostly invention. The reality of Nurse Drake was an initiation into heaven.

Beyond the incredulous delight and ego boost that such a goddess would ever deign to service him, beyond love and gratitude and ever-burgeoning worship was the blessing of her expertise. While her rhythm remained carefully calibrated it was still by far the most pleasurable thing he’d ever felt. Then even this was relegated to second. Humming with epicurean savor Doreen shifted her hand to cup his balls and began to rhythmically devour the entire shaft.

This was something porn stars and prostitutes perhaps could do, but Karl suspected it was a rare skill otherwise. Still Nurse Drake’s face showed nothing but bliss as she impaled it to the limit. Feeling more flabbergasted blessedness than he could possibly express and more tortured adolescent arousal that he’d ever dreamed he could stand, the only expectation Karl was spared was the anguish. No matter how fucked up he was in his dreams, Doreen had long ago removed the taint even from intimacy as undeserved as this. Still this was a level of incentive far more challenging than he felt comfortable coping with. If he’d thought carnal frustration was testing him before, the year ahead suddenly seemed fraught beyond belief.

So it soon proved. The scope of their love life expanded dramatically. Doreen enjoyed licking, kissing, tongue-teasing, lapping and slathering, suckling and swallowing him seemingly ad infinitum. In addition to her leisurely play they spent endless time in the fabled sixty-nine. No orgasm or breast play had been earned yet, and Karl often feared he would burst something in his maddened craving for both.

Every session of lovemaking and every morning bathing ended with him physically and emotionally exhausted, his still raging genitals aching so fiercely he wanted to shriek and bang his head. Yet every time Doreen took him in hand, went down on him or even shoved her own demanding crotch in his face he responded with the same addict’s excitement. Nor did he stop compulsively wallowing in the favor shown him until it was finally withdrawn.

Reveling in such heaven even as he was worked more exhaustively daily on the FNS bike, and subjected to corporal punishment of still steadily worsening severity, Karl could hardly accept that they were nearing the end of the first quarter already.

The fact that his progress seemed stalled made him uneasy. Nurse Drake admitted to no more worry than ever of course; she remained confident, even ebullient at how things were going. Even as she inflicted a new and more insidious indoctrination than ever on Karl she bantered brightly about it with him and promised again a reward he was dying for.

With the Gap books finished they’d reverted for a while to the endless crime reports and femdom videos. Eventually these began to repeat themselves however. Finally Nurse Drake just put the TV on for him: always tuned to a channel for women, like Oxygen or Lifetime. This latter was particularly insufferable, and Karl groaned as she switched it on again.

“Oh no! I can’t watch this channel without constantly thinking of the joke promos for it on Family Guy.”

“’Lifetime: TV for idiots.’ Is that the one?”

“Yes, that one. Also, ‘Men are terrible and want to hurt you, because this is Lifetime.’ The movies are just so smarmy! And all the commercials are simply unendurable.”

“I know what you mean. And have you ever noticed that all the most annoying and ubiquitous ones are marketing car insurance?”

“Oh man, don’t get me started!” Karl moaned. “That pasty-faced bint from Progressive has to die! Then there’s Allstate, E-surance, the stupid general…”

“You’re forgetting the worst offender of all,” Doreen laughed.

“Don’t remind me! That stupid caveman, that goddamn gecko…anybody that gives any money to Geico is abetting a great evil in the world. What’s up with that anyway?”

“Well, nearly everyone has a car, and everyone that does needs insurance for it. It’s an enormous market.”

“Yeah, but is this the stuff that’s supposed to appeal to the average person and make him favor a particular company? What does that say about society?”

“It says the average person is an idiot with no taste. Is this news to you?”

“No it is not,” Karl sighed. “But it certainly is dismaying.”

“Well, hang in there darling. You’ve almost made it through the first quarter. And you’ve done so with dignity and class and real evidence of improvement. I’m more proud of you than I can possibly express. Do you still want to spend some time outside? We’ve got a full moon coming up again. How about a holiday out on the dock to celebrate after I make my first report?”

“That sounds fabulous, ma’am!”

“I’m glad. Can you be a good little slut and watch some TV for idiots then? I know the stories are for simpletons and alarmists, but it’s the message that’s important.”

“I understand, ma’am. You know I’ll do whatever you tell me to with as much grace as I can manage. You are the goddess sent to redeem me, and I will always obey you. You’re my guardian angel.”

“And you are a honey-tongued devil. The girls of the world are going to love you. Okay, I have some serious paperwork to finish, so dinner will be rather late. Afterward we’ll make love and go to bed. Sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Okay. Don’t let me come in here with supper and find you asleep now, even with those clothespins all over you. You’ll be watching TV with a vibrator keeping you awake.”

“I’ll do my best, beloved.”

“That’s all I ever ask.”