THE TREATMENT PLAN

I shivered. I had been asleep - sitting in the wheelchair, naked, for I don’t know how long.

Nurse Roslin marched into the room. Sunlight streamed through the windows. I looked up and was dazzled by it. I squinted and shook my head in an attempt to wake up.

‘Where’s Caroline?’ I asked falteringly.

‘Asleep,’ she said curtly. ‘She sleeps in the day - in the dark. You look as if you don’t much like the light either. How long have you been feeling like that - sensitive to light?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know I was.’

‘Good, it’s not gone too far yet then. Anyway, Dr Collins is expecting us, and we mustn’t keep him waiting. I’ve learned that to my cost.’

She grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, spun it around and pushed me hurriedly to the door.

She didn’t talk to me. She was nothing like Caroline - she was more standoffish, aloof, altogether more severe, more correct I suppose you’d call it.

The corridors seemed endless - bleak, damp and lined with heavy oak doors. Along the edges of some, patients lay on beds. Some of them looked up as we passed - one waved weakly, some laughed, a naked woman giggled and threw a pair of panties at me. Nurse Roslin turned sharply and slapped her across the face and the woman dropped back onto her bed. She grinned at me slightly as soon as Nurse Roslin wasn’t looking.

We went along a corridor that opened out on one side into a long balcony. Three male nurses were taking turns with a young woman who was tied to a bed that had been pushed out underneath the covered veranda. She screamed as we passed but one of the nurses smacked her face then gagged her mouth with a pair of panties. The other two nurses leered at me as Nurse Roslin pushed me past hurriedly. I turned back and watched as the woman’s buttocks were lifted high and the first male nurse drove his cock into her anus. A pain-racked scream burst from her as the panties exploded from her mouth. The man started smacking her bottom as punishment. One of the others stuffed the panties back in as she fought for breath between her screams. We rounded the corner of the corridor but I could still hear her screaming for a long time.

We arrived at a heavy oak door with a sign: Dr Collins. Chief Medical Officer.

Nurse Roslin pushed me into the room. A couch with a plastic covered mattress sat at its centre. Dr Collins stood behind it, his white coat buttoned up carefully, a red tie pulled up tightly to the collar of his shirt, two pens clipped into his coat pocket, a stethoscope dangling from his neck.

He nodded to Nurse Roslin. She nodded back and stood on the other side of the couch - her hands together in front of her crotch, her long red fingernails shining in the bright fluorescent light that hung from the ceiling.

‘It’s always a joy to have a new visitor, don’t you think, nurse?’

‘Yes, doctor, always a joy.’

Nurse Roslin smiled broadly. She ran the wet tip of her tongue across her white teeth.

‘Let’s have our new visitor up on the couch - give her a thorough check over. We want to be sure she’s fit for treatment, don’t we?’

Nurse Roslin unfastened my wrists from the arms of the wheelchair. I had completely forgotten I had been secured to it! Had I been like that all night? My stomach filled with nerves at the thought. I felt shaky as she pulled me off the wheelchair and helped me to stand.

‘You’ll be alright,’ she said, startling me with her sudden words of assurance. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’

I reached forward and rested my hands on the edge of the couch.

Doctor Collins looked at papers on a clipboard.

‘You are...Syra Bond. Good! Let’s have a look at you, Syra Bond!’

Nurse Roslin pushed me towards the couch. I was fully dressed! The last thing I remembered I had been naked! A sickening feeling of confusion came over me again. I felt vomit in my throat.

‘Help her off with her blouse and skirt, nurse. Leave her underwear though. I’ll remove that when she’s lying down.’

I stood weakly while Nurse Roslin unbuttoned the white blouse and slipped it back over my shoulders. She had to undo the buttons at the cuffs before it slid down onto the floor. A thin zip at the waist of the dark blue shirt came undone easily and the skirt fell down around my feet. I was wearing a white lacy bra and tight white cotton panties - the material of the panties was pulled up tightly around the flesh of my cunt. White sheer stockings were clipped to a white suspender belt that was pulled tightly around my waist.

None of the questions I had in my mind would form sufficiently for me to ask them.

Submitting completely to Nurse Roslin, I lay back on the couch and stared up at the blinking fluorescent light. The crotch of the tight panties pulled even tighter against the flesh of my cunt as I stretched out my legs. For a moment I felt a surge of pleasure but it was immediately replaced by a wave of fear. I fixed my gaze on the fluorescent light as it blinked hypnotically.

Dr Collins put down the clipboard beside me. He took a pen from his top pocket and wrote something hurriedly on the top sheet of paper. He reached the pen forward and pressed down my bottom lip. He nodded, and tapped my bottom teeth with the nib.

‘Mm...dentist, I think.’

Again, he wrote something down.

‘Remove her suspender belt, nurse.’

I heard a giggling sound near the door but did not dare look.

Nurse Roslin unclipped the suspender belt clips one at a time. They hung down loosely - two between the tops of my thighs, two on the outside of my hips. She unclipped the belt at the back, lifting my hips up to get at it, and drew it away. She threw it down dismissively onto the floor near to the door.

I heard a scurrying sound near the door as if someone rushed to pick up the discarded suspender belt.

‘Well, we certainly need these off,’ said Dr Collins, opening the top of the waistband of my panties with the pen. ‘Perhaps a razor as well, nurse.’

He took hold of the sides of my panties and pulled them down until they were on my thighs. The material at the crotch did not move - it remained tight against my crack. I felt the tugging sensation and again a surge of pleasure came over me.

‘Now, Syra, you must open your legs a little,’ he said. ‘Good.’

He pulled the panties down further, exposing my cunt.

He leant over me and placed the chest piece of his stethoscope over my heart - I felt it pounding with fear.

‘Yes, nurse, plenty of foam. Let’s make sure there isn’t the slightest sign of a hair. I want her completely naked so that her treatment gets off to a proper start.

Nurse Roslin went to a small table at the edge of the room. She picked up a fine horn handled brush and brushed it against her cheek.

‘Beautiful,’ she said. ‘The softest badger hair.’

‘Nurse!’ reprimanded Dr Collins.

Nurse Roslin scowled but continued to do what she had been told. She ran some warm water into a bowl, dipped the brush into it then swirled it around a dish with a block of shaving soap at its centre. The brush worked up a soft white lather. Its heady aroma filled my nostrils. She came back, carrying the soap dish in one hand and the brush in the other.

Carefully, she started applying the foam. She spread it around the base of my stomach, down in the crack between the outer edges of my labia and the inside tops of my thighs, across the mounded labia on each side of my crack and down towards my anus. Every so often she stood back and analysed her work. She rubbed carefully so that no area was missed. It felt silky and moist and the touch of the soft soapy brush made me shiver with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. The blinking of the light and the regular soft strokes of the brush sent me into a trance of joy.

Nurse Roslin stood back and admired her effort for one last time.

‘Good. Now a fresh sharpening, I think,’ she said, musing to herself as she walked back to the table at the side of the room.

She washed the brush in water, wiped out the soap dish and placed both items carefully in a small box. From the same box she took out a cut throat razor - a quality straight edge model with a mother of pearl handle - and pulled the edge of the blade against her thumb nail.

‘Yes, definitely.’

A shiny leather strop hung by a silver ring from the table’s edge; at its other end was sewn a mother of pearl heart shaped handle.

Nurse Roslin held the heart shaped handle and began drawing the blade against the smooth leather. She pulled it up and down slowly - it made a low swishing sound, like a soft breath. Again she tested the blade against her nail. She was not satisfied. She rubbed a little paste on the strop to lubricate it, then worked the blade more against its smooth polished surface. The hollow ground blade glinted in the harsh light of the flickering fluorescent tubes.

‘I hope she doesn’t mind silver?’ said Doctor Collins.

Nurse Roslin laughed at the joke they obviously shared.

Again, I heard the giggling at the door - it was as if someone was listening in on Dr Collins’ and Nurse Roslin’s joke. I turned my head enough to look. A small group were gathered together, pointing, giggling, and muttering. They were watching everything that was happening! I couldn’t make out any faces.

Nurse Roslin placed the sharpened edge of the open razor against the skin an inch or two above the top cleft of my crack. She pulled it down firmly and slowly. I felt the sharp blade running through the foam, cutting it away and with it any remnant of pubic hair that lay beneath it. She rubbed the surplus foam onto a towel, returned to the nearby table, dipped the blade into a bowl of hot water, came back and started again.

She repeated the process, working conscientiously, leaning down and checking to see if she had missed anything, occasionally rubbing her fingers across my skin to make sure it was perfectly smooth.

She pressed the insides of my thighs and parted them slightly. She ran the razor deftly across the mounds of flesh each side of my labia. I tensed as I felt the blade cutting through the foam. She followed the same procedure - wiping, walking to the table, dipping, walking back, and running her fingers across where she had shaved.

She lifted my one leg and ran the razor across my perineum. She pulled the blade right up to the edges of my anus, circled it, and drew it away onto the insides of my buttocks. I felt the coolness of air against my freshly naked skin. I rose up against the razor - wanting more, needing it closer. She twisted the blade on its edge and ran it into the top of my crack. I shivered as I thought of the sharp edge so close to my labia. I dropped my head to the side and gasped.

I opened my eyes wide and again saw the group standing around the doorway - they were moving closer. I could see them more clearly now: a man and four women all holding onto each other. The four women were barely covered in ripped and ragged smocks. The man wore a dark suit. Their faces were all in a heavy shadow -as if the light from the fluorescent tube did not reach them. As they got closer, and without speaking or making any sound, they reached out their hands towards the couch - towards me!

I twisted myself - trying to get away from their clawing hands. Before I could move, I felt the razor nick my skin. I knew she had cut me. I froze. I knew I was bleeding. The image of the open blade flashed into my mind. I was filled with terror.

Nurse Roslin pulled back. I saw the flash of the razor’s straight edge. I saw the smear of blood on its shiny surface. As I watched, it ran along the blade, turned into a red droplet and fell from the glistening edge. I did not follow its descent - I did not want to know where it fell - but I knew it was mine that it had been spilled by the action of another, and that it was irreplaceable.

She smiled, leant forward and continued. Again, she brought the blade down slowly against my flesh. She drew it across the cleft at the top of my crack. She prised it slightly apart to allow the blade in. Before, I had felt its smoothness - gliding through the foamy layer of soap at right angles to the line of the blade’s edge - now I felt something different.

I was horrified by the sensation - and by the image it caused in my mind! I wanted to escape, to run, but I didn’t dare move. My heart was beating like a drum in my heaving chest.

I felt the cool pad of rubber as Dr Collins placed the chest piece of his stethoscope just above my left breast. He cocked his head to one side and listened attentively. The veins throbbed in my neck. I felt as if my head was going to explode.

I turned my face to one side- slowly, fearful that moving too quickly would increase the risk of being cut. The man and women were gathered closely around the couch - one woman on each side of me, the other two at my feet. My heart beat even faster. My head pounded with the pressure. I knew I was giving instructions to my limbs to move, but nothing was happening.

Nurse Roslin lifted the razor again. She held it in front of her face. A fresh drip of blood ran down its sharp edge. She held the blade above her mouth then licked out her tongue until its tip touched the shiny edge.

Again, I ordered my arms to move. I was desperate to get away. I couldn’t stand it anymore. ‘Move! Move!’ I commanded them. ‘Move!’

At last, as I watched a fresh drop of blood from Nurse Roslin’s tongue flow onto the edge of the shiny blade, I felt a quiver of movement in my wrists. At last!

I stretched out my fingers - flexing them open and then closed. I felt tightness at my wrists, as though they were bound, but it wasn’t a rope or tape, it was sharper. I flexed my fingers again. The sharpness increased. I tried to lift my arms and the sharpness became a sting then a harsh pain. I tried harder, pulling my forearm up as much as I could but the pain was unbearable - cutting, deep, tearing.

I glanced down my sides. My mouth opened in a silent scream as I saw the two women kneeling by my side with their teeth gripping my wrists - clamping me with their jaws, holding me down, preventing me from moving. I struggled against them but the pain was too much - I couldn’t bear it. They stared at me, their eyes fixed on mine - grinning menacingly behind their gripping teeth.

Dr Collins moved the chest piece of the stethoscope higher on my chest. I felt my heart thumping against it. He pulled back and held the rounded end of a silver metal spatula against my chin. He looked inside my still wide open mouth. He pressed the spatula down against my chin, opening my mouth even more - I couldn’t believe how wide he forced it. He latched his fingers over my bottom teeth to hold my mouth open and slowly inserted the spatula into my mouth.

I felt it going in. It did not touch any part of the inside of my mouth at first but I knew it was there. Its very intrusion into the emptiness made me want to gag. Then it touched the back of my tongue, lightly on the base where it curves to form a link into my gullet.

I heaved immediately, but he kept it there, pressing it harder, still holding my jaw down with his talon-like fingers.

He put his face close to mine. A light surrounded by a silver disk was now strapped to his forehead. I smelled his breath - sweet, like blood. He pushed the spatula further, into the entrance of my throat. I heaved again, this time finding it hard to keep the vomit from erupting; I tasted it - acrid and burning. He peered closer.

I tried again the pull my arms up, thinking that somehow I could protect myself, but it was useless, the women were biting hard into the skin of my wrists, almost gnawing at it, threatening all the time to break the surface and dig deeply into my flesh. I imagined them chewing on the bone and, for a moment, thought I felt the grinding of their teeth against it.

I pulled at my ankles and found the same resistance as I felt at my wrists. I could not see but I knew that the women at my feet were biting into my ankles in the same way that the women were biting into my wrists.

I was transfixed with fear. I heaved again. I wanted to vomit - it was as if it would bring the horror to an end - but I could not.

Dr Collins removed the spatula. I saw its glistening end flash in the harsh light above me. He released his hold on my lower jaw. It was so strained it did not spring back. Instead it stayed open - my mouth gaping wide in an expression of hopelessness, emptiness and loss of control.

He bent forward and opened my eyelids, looking inside them, pulling the bottom one down as far as he could. Then he took each of my nipples, pinched and twisted them in turn, then drew them between his teeth and bit onto them suddenly and viciously.

I screamed! I had never heard a louder scream! It was an outburst of all my pent up terror. All the fear that had built up inside me was released in this sudden screech.

‘Turn her over,’ said Dr Collins in a matter-fact-way as he walked over to the table.

The grip on my wrists and ankles was released. I was rolled over onto my front. Again I tried to flex my fingers, to lift my arms, to show some sign of resistance but straightaway I felt the sharp teeth taking their hold again - this time harder. I pushed my head to the side, gasping for breath, my heart pounding, my ears filled with its thumping, my head spinning in a turmoil of confusion.

The man in the suit was standing beside me. He brushed the left arm of his suit with his right hand. Still, I could not see his face. Even in the harsh brightness of the fluorescent light I could not see his face.

I heard Dr Collins walking back. Just behind the man in the suit, I saw Dr Collins walking back from the table drawing on a pair of latex gloves.

‘Her throat is clear anyway. So let’s see what it’ll take.’

The man in the suit began unzipping his trousers. He put his hand inside and pulled out his cock - heavy, throbbing and hard.

He pushed it towards my face. I felt its strangely familiar heat.

I felt hands pressing open my buttocks - prising them wide. It was Dr Collins - I could feel the smoothness of the latex gloves.

‘A little lubrication should help,’ he said.

The throbbing cock came closer. I watched its end pulsating - engorged, reddish-purple, still swelling.

Suddenly, I felt pressure against my anus. Something was slipping in. It opened easily, there was no resistance. My eyes widened. It felt large and heavy - completely filling.

The cock pressed against my lips. I gaped and it went inside. It did not stop. It pressed against the back of my tongue, over its base then into my throat. I gagged quickly but it turned into a heave and that disappeared as the heavy shaft went further and deeper.

My anus was completely full. It felt like a hand was inside me - probing deep, spreading my anal ring as wide as possible, up to the wrist, delving into my innards. I swallowed on the cock, sucking it down until its base was pressed against my lips. I sucked at it - heavily, ravenously, hungrily. I lifted my bottom as much as I could against the biting on my ankles and wrists and the heavy intrusion in my anus. I wanted more. Whatever it was inside me, I wanted it until no more was available.

I felt my anus close around something - perhaps a wrist? It tightened and I felt the fullness of it, the completeness of it as I swallowed hard on the cock in my throat. I didn’t know if I was breathing - I couldn’t tell. The teeth tightened more around my wrists and ankles. It was as though I was being eaten alive - consumed with pleasure and pain, devoured by fear, overcome by the gulping greed of others.

I felt myself moving against the pressure in my anus. As I swallowed on the cock, and sucked at it hungrily, I was moving against the intrusion that reached to my innards. I rose and fell, moaned and slurped, heaved and wallowed in recurring waves of disgust and remorse. I was disgusted by my actions and filled with a sense of remorse born of my inability to hold back - I could not resist the delight of even the most degrading exploitation and use of my body.

I don’t know what happened first. I don’t know whether the cock finished in my throat and I drank thirstily on the flow of semen. I don’t know whether I rose up on the pressure in my anus and squeezed my thighs together on the flesh of my cunt as spasm after spasm of ecstasy ran through me. I don’t know whether I groaned and grunted with bliss as I pulled against the biting teeth at my ankles and wrists. No, I don’t know which happened first, but they all happened. I know I was flung forward with ecstasy. I know I sucked so hard at the cock in my throat I thought it would never come out. I know I had blood smeared on my lips and face but I did not know in what order these things happened. I know I was spanked with a heavy hand, and then with the strop that had been used to sharpen the open razor. I counted the blows at first, but soon they all became part of a single painful rhythm of punishment. I could not escape the pleasure of the pain, the joy and fulfilment of my complete submission. I was racked with convulsions. My head spun. I was giddy and delirious. The fluorescent light above me seemed to spin in circles. I thought I was floating above the couch. I was not sure if I was awake or dreaming, alive or dead, in pain or in ecstasy. In the end - whenever that was - the fluorescent light stopped spinning and everything went black.

The next thing I knew I was on my back again, lying on the plastic surface of the couch - aching, sore, and dissipated.

Dr Collins probed his pen between the cleft of my cunt.

‘I think that before we can even begin her treatment, nurse, we must send her to the chapel. Yes, there are no shortcuts here. There she will recant her sins, and only then will she be sufficiently cleansed to begin the treatment in earnest. Nurse, take our visitor away. I will see her again nearer the time.’

Nurse Roslin drew on her uniform jacket. She pulled it tight at the front and squeezed her firm breasts inside. I noticed how hard and prominent her nipples were. She rolled her tongue across her lips - red smudged blood clashed with the brighter red of her lipstick. She took hold of the wheelchair handles and pushed me out of the room.

She parked the wheelchair in the dark corner of a corridor, checked the tightness of the bonds at my wrists and ankles then left me alone.

I fell into an uncomfortable sleep but was suddenly woken by a huge clap of thunder; it was immediately above me. The building shook. I struggled to free myself, but it was more a reaction of fear than an expectation - I knew I could not free myself, I knew I was a captive. Suddenly an image of Father Dawson came into my mind. I saw him writhing on the electric chair, boiling blood spurting from his ears, steam foaming from his mouth, his staring bulging eyes fixing me with a threatening stare.

‘Syra! Sweetie! I’m back.’ Caroline’s face bent down in front of me. ‘Wakey-wakey! It’s Caroline come to rescue you!’

‘It’s been terrible,’ I muttered. ‘The nurse and the doctor, they did terrible things - ’

‘Wow, what a storm! I’m glad to get out, I can tell you. You think you’ve had a bad time. I’m locked up all day. I can’t even get out every night either - and that causes me some pain I can tell you. The days are long enough, without missing a night of freedom. Every day, sitting by myself, silent, not moving - it’s like I’m invisible. Perhaps that’s why I talk so much when I get out - the relief of being free again. It’s no wonder I masturbate such a lot. Do you like doing that, Syra? I bet you do. I can’t get enough of it. I’ve always got my fingers stuffed in my cunt. It’s warm in there. I don’t even take them out when I have visitors. Oh yes, I have plenty of visitors. They come in the night. I help them to get rid of their anxieties. I let them watch me sometimes, masturbating. A lot of them like that. I suppose it’s because I get carried away. You know - writhing, spitting, and shouting. And I thrash a lot of them. They like that too! They bring what they want me to use. I like it best when they bring a whip - that’s my favourite. And I don’t hold back. I bend them over and tie them down then I let rip as hard as I can. They plead with me to stop, but I think that’s all part of the fun. I never stop when they ask anyway, only when I’m exhausted, or I have to mop up the blood. Sometimes I just get on my hands and knees and lick it off the floor. Oh, Syra, do you think I’m awful?’

‘Why can’t you come out in the day? Who stops you?’

‘Things are different at night, after dark - much safer. It’s not so safe to come out in the day - too much light. You’re safe with me though, Syra, in the night. I think it’s better for you to be secured in the day. You never know who’s prowling about.’

Caroline pulled thin cords around my ankles and wound them tightly to the frame of the wheelchair.

She looked up between my thighs.

‘Oh, you’re bleeding. What have you been doing?’

She reached up and ran her fingers upwards along the crack of my cunt then onto the base of my stomach.

‘Your skin is beautifully smooth, so closely shaved. But you have been nicked - more than once. Wow, what sharp cuts! Let me lick them for you. It will make you feel better.’

She pushed my legs wider as she dropped to her knees and pressed herself between them. I wanted to take hold of her head and pull it against me, but my wrists were tied tight and I could not move them. The frustration of captivity made my yearning all the greater. It seemed an eternity, but at last her tongue made contact with my flesh and she started to lick the cuts. I rolled my eyes up in ecstasy. There was no build up, no heralding of what was to come - I had used up all my anticipation before she even touched me. My mouth dropped wide, and that took a fraction of a second, but that was all. The moment I felt her lips against my flesh I was overtaken by the heat of bliss as instantly it shook me in a spasm of pleasure. I seemed to rise up to heaven, like a leaf in the wind - fragile, spinning, weightless.

I sensed she kept licking, and sucking, and lapping at me. I sensed she drove her tongue inside - deeply inside- and I sensed she lifted my buttocks as much as she could and probed her tongue into my anus. But all I knew - all I really knew for certain - was the heat in my body, the light in my head, and the overpowering spasms of delight that threw me into one uncontrolled convulsing fit of bliss after another.