BLOOD

I awoke in another room. It was dark and oppressive - its low ceiling joining the darkened, red painted walls in curving uneven lines. I dozed most of the day - not knowing whether I was dreaming or awake. Nurse Roslin came in and drew back the curtains to a small window. The fading sunset was just allowing some red light to flicker between the foaming clouds. The top buttons of her uniform jacket were undone and the outline of her breasts, captured within a pink lacy bra, was highlighted in glowing red. For a moment it was as if she was drenched in blood.

It was good to see the world outside. I had not been out since I found myself in this terrible place. I imagined high white clouds gathering over the ocean, the heavy crashing waves, and the warm sea around my body as I dived into the frothing surf.

Nurse Roslin placed a metal tray with shiny metal implements on a small table beside my bed. Dr Collins followed her in and stood over me. He tightened the knot of his red tie into the smooth white collar of his shirt. He took hold of my wrist and looked at his watch. A few seconds passed. My heart was pounding.

‘Still a little fast, nurse. We had better start taking samples from now on. We need to know when it is appropriate to continue the treatment.’

He removed the pen from his breast pocket and noted something down on the chart that hung at the bottom of the bed.

‘Go ahead, nurse. Go ahead.’

Nurse Roslin took my arm as she had before, turned it over and laid the back of my hand on her lap. The warmth of her thighs against my skin made me tingle. She took a silver metal syringe from the tray, pressed down the plunger fully then presented the needle end to the veins on the inside of my elbow.

She flicked the back of her finger against the skin and the veins rose in thin blue lines. She pushed the needle against the most prominent one. The skin broke and it entered. I sensed the delightful feeling of penetration. I imagined the silver tip of the needle surrounded by my blood - drawing it up, removing some of my essence. She drew the plunger back slowly. I watched my blood entering the glass tube of the syringe - dark red, thick, resistant. I felt as if I didn’t want it to leave my body. I felt as I she was sucking out my life. My heart beat faster.

She held up the full syringe and looked at it with satisfaction. She unscrewed the transparent barrel and dropped it in a plastic bag which she folded carefully and pressed into the breast pocket of her jacket. After putting a small plaster on the wound, they left; Nurse Roslin, teetering on her high heeled red shoes and pulling down her short skirt as she wiggled through the door behind Dr Collins.

They came again each day at about the same time. Each time nurse Roslin drew back the curtain, each time she took a sample of my blood, each time Dr Collins took my pulse and wrote down the result on the chart at the bottom of my bed. The regularity of their visits became almost comforting. I slept in the day and after sunset stared through the window into the night sky until morning.

I started to look forward to the needle being pressed into my veins. I started to welcome the sensation of my blood been drawn - of seeing it entering the transparent barrel of the syringe, of feeling something so indispensable to my life taken from me. I welcomed the attention, the closeness of Nurse Roslin, the touch of her hand, the warmth of her lap against the back of my hand. I was increasingly excited with each visit. When the needle went in I felt a warmth in my cunt, when I saw the blood being drawn from me, I sensed the wetness against the soft edges of my flesh, and when I felt the warmth of Nurse Roslin’s lap against the back of my hand, I was filled with the anxious feeling of an unreleased orgasm somewhere deep between my hips.

I longed to run my hand up between her thighs, to pull her panties aside and drive my fingers into her cunt. I imagined Dr Collins’ reaction - how angry he would be, how he would punish her for allowing me to take such liberties. And the thought of his anger excited me even more. I saw him bending Nurse Roslin over the bed, making her lean across me, making her stretch out and reach the floor on the one side with her long red fingernails while still keeping her high heeled shoes on the floor on the other. I saw how perfect she would look, stretched over me like this - her mop of red hair hanging down over her face and reaching almost to the floor, her breasts pressed forward against the open neck of her uniform jacket, her buttocks taut against the material of her lace edged panties. I pictured him lifting her skirt - it would be tight and he would have to pull it hard. Perhaps she would raise herself up slightly off the bed and when he noticed her doing this he would smack her hard across the buttocks for being so wanton. And I imagined seeing her bottom, tightly enclosed in her fancy black panties - pulled into the crease of her buttocks, tight against the soft and yielding flesh of her succulent cunt. He would pull them down slowly and she would start breathing harder. I would see a dribble of spit running from her gaping mouth as finally the silky material pulled away from the sticky flesh of her crack. When they came down to behind her knees I would lick my lips at the sight of the rounded cheeks of her buttocks - their tension, their firmness, their expectancy. I would wait for him to start - savouring the silence of expectancy, the moments before action. When he started it would be like an explosion - breaking the quietness and throwing me into a turmoil which only he could end. And I would feel every smack of his hand as the pressure of it was transmitted from her bottom, through her tense, stretched body, and into my own as I lay shivering with excitement beneath her. As his smacks became harder so the excitement would increase and I would push myself up against her - meeting each blow with yearning, feeling the contact precisely as if it was against my own skin. She would not be a barrier between me and his hand but a conduit that amplified the pain and transmitted it deep into my soul. And, in the end, as the tempo of the beating was at its height and the pain was unsurpassable, I would scream out as my orgasm broke free and threw me into an uncontrollable delirium. Then he would grab me by the hair, drag me from beneath her and fling me across his knee. He would smack me as hard as he could with his hand, and when I screamed for more he would take off his belt and bring that down across my already reddened skin. But still I would raise my buttocks to it and shout for more, and he would stretch my legs wide and beat the soft flesh of my cunt. The cutting edges of his belt would throw me into a seizure of suffering, but still it would not be enough. Finally, he would bring in others to continue with the beating until at last, still screeching for more and my whole body covered in red stripes and blotches, I would fade into an ecstatic unconsciousness.

One day when they came, Dr Collins went outside the room and Nurse Roslin came over and placed her face against my neck. She opened her mouth and started whispering to me. I was feeling very weak - I was dizzy and disorientated - and found it hard to make out what she was saying. It was something about having hope, about not giving up, but the rest of it was lost. When Dr Collins returned she slapped me across the face and shouted at me as if I had done something to anger her. Dr Collins looked pleased with her admonishment of me. He ran his hands down the front of her uniform jacket and pinched her nipples hard before leading her out of the room by the hand.

They closed the door behind them and I listened to Nurse Roslin’s yelping moans in the corridor for ages. It sounded as if he had stripped off her uniform jacket, pulled down her lacy bra and bitten her nipples. I could picture her rising up as he took each one between his teeth and closed his jaw as tightly as he could. I saw her face - drawn with pain yet fixed with ecstasy. I ran my hands down between my thighs and pinched my clitoris as her moans turned into cries; and I pinched it harder when her cries turned into screams. I held it as tightly as I could and, as I pushed a finger deep into my anus, I was unable to muffle my own screams as I rose up on wave after wave of painful ecstasy.

A few days later, a young woman was brought in and put in the bed next to mine. From that day Nurse Roslin stopped taking my blood.

One night I lay in my bed in front of the open curtain staring out at the full moon as it flitted in and out of the clouds. As it appeared and disappeared it sent out intermittent streams of luminous blue light that shone across the room in glowing shards. I turned my face into its radiance, feeling its cool blue brightness on my cheeks and revelling in its calming chill.

‘You’re new here aren’t you,’ said the girl. ‘I’ve been here for ages. It’s my third time in this room. I’ve never got past being bled - it weakens me too much, I can never go on.’

I turned from the window. The azure light of the moon fell on the girl’s face. Her pale skin gleamed like alabaster, her black hair shone with an indigo gloss, her wide and full lipped mouth hung open slightly as if expecting to speak, or smile, or kiss.

‘They will be here soon,’ she said anxiously. ‘You will be able to see what is ahead for you. At the moment, they are just allowing you to rest. And you will need all your strength, I can tell you! Quick! They’re coming. Pretend you’re sleeping. Quick!’

I closed my eyes tightly. I heard the door open. I could clearly make out the footsteps of a man and woman. I thought of squinting through my eyelids but I didn’t.

I heard curtains being pulled around the girl’s bed - its heavy iron rings grated against the rail that encircled the bed and the harsh scraping sound made me shiver. I bit onto my lips so that I wouldn’t make any noise.

I heard them talking - their voices were indistinct. A man’s arm appeared between the curtains and reached around to the end of the bed for the chart. When the curtains opened slightly as the chart was retrieved, I saw that the man was wearing a dark suit.

The girl in the bed started moaning - a slow regular breathless moan. I couldn’t think what was happening to her. The moaning got louder. I couldn’t hold myself back. Wearing only my thin hospital smock, I crept out of my bed and squatted by the side of the closed curtains. The flesh of my cunt squeezed between the tops of my thighs and my anus felt exposed and cooled by the chilly night time air.

I pulled back the curtains just enough to see inside. It was too dark to see clearly but I could make out enough. The man had his back towards me, he was tall, dark haired and broad shouldered. His assistant, his nurse, was on the other side of the bed and, except for glimpses of her white uniform, she was hidden from my view.

They had stripped off any sheets and blankets and the girl was lying naked on the bare shiny plastic of the narrow hospital bed. Her legs had been pulled out wide and her arms were stretched down by her sides. They had tied her down onto the bed with pieces of thin pink rubber tubing wound tightly around her wrists and ankles. Her hands and feet were white. A leather band stretched across her forehead and secured her head to the bed. She looked sideways straight at me. Her eyes were filled with fear. I was terrified that the line of her gaze might lead them to me. I dropped the curtains closed and cowered as if I was an animal about to be struck by a vicious master.

The girl kept moaning - sometimes louder, sometimes almost too quietly to hear, sometimes with what seemed an expression of resignation to pain, sometimes with what could only be the irrepressible tones of ecstasy. I clung to the edge of the curtain, squeezing it rhythmically and in time with the groans of the girl. In the end I couldn’t resist and again I opened the curtains.

A plastic blood bag, attached to a transparent plastic tube and hanging from a high metal stand, ran down to her mouth. Its end was connected to a hollow rubber bar and this was tied with a strap across her mouth. I could see that her canine teeth were embedded in the rubber bar and that she was sucking at it - guzzling the blood as it flowed down the pipe from the bag into it. On the other side of the bed, another bag sat on a lower stand and was connected to a transparent plastic cannula inserted into a vein on the inside of her elbow. Again the girl saw me, and again she stared at me fearfully, but this time I did not drop the curtain.

I ducked down, crept below the dangling hems of the curtains and slipped beneath the bed. My heart was thumping wildly with excitement and fear. I could hardly believe what I had done, but I knew why I had done it! I had hardly ever felt so excited! It was like hanging over the edge of a precipice.

I could see the feet of both of them now - the man’s polished black leather shoes, the woman’s narrow high heels. They moved from side to side, sometimes facing each other, sometimes on opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes they spoke - usually the man giving instructions - and sometimes there were long periods of quietness. When they were silent I could hear the girl’s guzzling sucks as she gulped at the blood from the feeding bar in her mouth.

I crouched down with my knees bent almost to my chin, my breasts pressed against the tops of my thighs, my buttocks taut, my cunt exposed beneath my smock. I edged myself out a little so that I could see more. That was all I could think of - seeing more, hearing more, getting as close as I could.

‘Increase the flow, nurse,’ said the man thoughtfully. ‘But gradually. We don’t want her to take too much! Remember what happened last time?’

The nurse giggled.

I craned my neck and just saw her hand reaching around and adjusting a small tap beneath the bag of blood on the high stand. The girl choked as the increased pressure forced too much blood into her mouth.

‘Perhaps the holes in her teeth have been drilled too finely. Dr Vahal is sometimes too cautious. Give her a few more minutes to settle down, we’ll soon see.’

The girl choked again.

I imagined the blood spilling from the sides of her mouth - running over her bottom lip as the flow from the tube was too great for her to take. And, as the picture of it came into my mind, a surge of heat filled my cunt. I squeezed my buttocks together and it increased. I pulled my hands around my shins and tightened my knees against my chin. I licked my lips but I hardly had any spit in my mouth. I realised I had been panting so much with my mouth open that the back of my throat, my tongue and my lips were all dry.

I leant out a bit more. I knew they would see me if they looked down but, I told myself, they were so occupied with what they were doing they would never notice me. It was ridiculous but I couldn’t stop myself.

The girl stopped choking and was guzzling again. She slurped at the blood from the tube rhythmically; I swayed on my heels in time to it - it was hypnotic. I imagined her sucking it up into the fine holes in her canine teeth. I licked the tip of my tongue against my own. I felt the tiny holes in their ends. Another thrill of excitement passed through me. I squeezed my thighs together and felt the delightful tension around the soft edges of my slit. I leant out further. My face was beneath the blood bag on the lower stand, the one connected to the girl’s arm.

I looked up at the tube that ran from the girl’s arm; I could see the pulsing blood running inside it. The movement excited me. I felt spit inside my cheeks. I licked my lips again and imagined the blood running into my mouth. I felt my hand reaching up towards the bag - I couldn’t stop it; I had to get closer to it.

‘Yes, her intake seems to have stabilized now,’ said the man. ‘Come over here, nurse, we have a few moments I think.’

I watched the nurse’s feet moving towards the end of the bed. She stood in front of the man and rose up on the toes of her high heeled shoes.

‘Shall I undo my blouse?’ she asked.

‘No. I will cut the buttons with this scapula. You will have to sew them back on though - and neatly!’

I heard the slices as the sharp scalpel cut through the cotton that held the buttons to her jacket front. I shivered all over as a wave of delight came over me. I imagined the buttons being sheared off one by one. I saw her blouse drop onto the floor around her feet. She kicked it aside and her bra fell in its place. Her skirt dropped next and, as she stepped out of it, I saw the man’s hands pulling her panties down to her knees.

‘Over the bottom of the bed, nurse. You will make a pretty sight for our little patient. It will help her blood flow.’

Unquestioningly, the nurse bent over the end of the bed. It was so thrilling. I opened my knees wide and drew my fingers against my naked cunt. I wondered if he would spank her with his hand or beat her with a belt or some rubber tubing. I didn’t know what would excite me most. I waited, hardly daring to breathe, wondering if I dare lean out more from beneath the bed.

With my spare hand I reached up to the bag on the short stand. I could touch it! And I was sure no one could see me now. I ran my fingers over the bag. I felt its warmth and the pulsing of the girl’s veins as it was transmitted through the tubing connected into her arm. I pressed my fingers against it. My heart was pounding in time with it - in time with the beating of her heart. I was breathing fast - gasping. Then suddenly I heard the contact of the man’s hand against the nurse’s bare bottom. I grabbed the blood bag and squeezed it. I couldn’t help myself!

As the next smack came down I squeezed the bag again. The warmth of the blood radiated through my hand. It reached up my arm and into my own heart. I squeezed again as the smacking hand made another contact. This time the nurse yelped and the sound of her pain filled me with an extra wave of joy.

I plunged my fingers inside my crack. It opened easily - it was hot and soaking and sucked them in. Its moisture ran down the back of my hand. I rose up on my fingers and looked at the girl on the bed. She was pale and looked anxious. Her eyes flashed sideways at me. She was so tightly tied her eyes were the only parts of her body she could move. Blood was dribbling from her mouth. She sucked hard at the bar in her mouth but they had turned the flow up too high; she could not take the blood up quickly enough and it spilled over. It ran down the side of her mouth and onto her neck. There, I saw two fresh holes in her skin and the lines of blood curled around them in semi circles as they ran down onto the plastic covering of the bed.

The man’s hand was coming down forcefully on the taut skin of the nurse’s bottom. Each smack filled my ears, each yelp of pain from the nurse made my head throb. I held onto the bag of blood on the short stand. I turned my face upwards beneath the lines of blood that were now running off the edge of the plastic covered bed. They reached the edge - soon they would drip down towards me!

I waited - gaping, my dry tongue hanging out of my mouth expectantly, my lips stretched as wide as they would go. I was squeezing the blood bag every time the smacking hand of the man came down. I wanted to crouch beneath it; I wanted so much to offer my bottom for his punishing hand. At last I saw the blood drip from the edge of the bed. At first, a single droplet fell towards me. It seemed to take a lifetime - falling through the air, tantalising me, making me wait in a hell of unending expectancy.

Suddenly, I tasted it on my tongue - warm, rich, nourishing. I was frozen in ecstasy. I could not move. I could not breathe. I stared, open eyed. It was as if I was dead. Then another drip touched my lips, then another on my tongue, then another straight to the back of my throat. Suddenly I swallowed. I took it down. It was ambrosia - still warm, thick, and running with the life force of the girl. I was overcome with it - this syrupy infusion of delight. I needed more. I rose up and licked the edge of the bed. I spread the flat of my tongue against the plastic covering. The girl looked at me, still guzzling, still sucking and still failing to take all that was being drained into her from the blood bag.

I could not stop running my fingers up and down the crack of my cunt, and I knew I was slurping too loudly. I gripped the blood bag hard in my hand. I knew I was pulling on it too much, but I couldn’t stop myself; I had completely lost control.

The blood bag broke free from the stand and was immediately separated from the tube that ran from the girl’s arm. The pressure of my hand around it caused the blood to spurt out in a stream. It sprayed over me, covering my face and hair and running in a flood down my neck and arms.

I heard at least two more smacks but then they stopped. I knew I had been seen! Of course I had! My mind was full of need, of desire. I squeezed the bag until it emptied over me, and I kept licking at the edge of the plastic covering of the bed - slurping up as much of the girl’s blood as I could. All the time I was thrusting my fingers into my cunt, up and down the dark recess, in and out of the wet flesh that was as hungry for attention as I was hungry for the crimson ambrosia that now saturated me.

I saw the nurse rushing over to me. She was beautiful, naked now. When she turned to pick up some bandages I saw her reddened bottom. I could not see the man easily, just his dark suit and his dark hair. I was plumbing my cunt deeper than I thought possible.

The nurse dragged me away from the girl’s bed and flung me down face forward on my own bed. She tied my wrists with some rubber hose to some cleats on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t resist her - I didn’t want to. I wanted smacking. I wanted to hear the sound of the man’s hand on my skin. I wanted to feel the sharp pain filling me, smack by smack, until I was overtaken with it - filled with it, completely suffused with it. I wanted to rise up against it, open myself to it, feel it against the exposed flesh of my naked and distended cunt as I sucked at my tongue and took the last sweet fill of the blood that had drained from the veins of the beautiful young girl.

And I was not disappointed, and the pain was greater than I thought it would be. I was tied down so tightly that I could not even flinch. I drank from the girl - they poked the end of the tube from her arm into my mouth and secured it there with bandages. I choked to start with - there was too much for me- but as he punished me harder, and the pain went deeper, I felt the increasing need to drink. I sucked at the tube, watching the flow run from the girl, and I swallowed it eagerly trying to quench what had become a never ending thirst.

I heard them saying she had given enough, and I felt the hot surge of blood as they took it from her arm and it spilled over my face. I did not stop sucking though, even when the tube was empty - the scent of the blood was enough to keep me feeding.

They came for three more nights. Each time the girl became paler and weaker. She could hardly turn her eyes towards me and by the end of the third night she looked near to death. On the fourth night they injected me. They opened my legs wide, opened the soft edges of my slit and pushed the needle of the syringe into the bud of my clitoris. For a moment it stung but almost immediately my clitoris filled with a wave of heat that spread around my whole body. I looked up at the nurse and tried to focus on her, but I could not resist the fluid in my veins and everything went dark

I don’t know whether it was day or night when I regained consciousness - it was dark in the room and I could hardly open my eyes.

‘Syra, it looks to me as if you need a good wash! You mustn’t let yourself go!’

It was Caroline. I felt my heart beating loudly as I tried to rouse myself and sit up.

‘Here, let me help,’ she said, fussing around me. ‘Oh dear, you have been getting up to some tricks!’

‘What’s happening to me?’ I held my hands out and was horrified to see they were covered in dried blood! ‘Caroline! What’s happening to me? I can’t stand this. I shouldn’t be here! This is all wrong! I’ve had these terrible nightmares!’

Nervously, she looked back to the door.

‘We all have nightmares. I can help you escape. There’s someone in our way though.’

‘Who is it? Who is it?’

‘Nurse Roslin. She has more influence here than anybody. With her out of the way, there’s a chance I can get you out. Syra, what do you think?’

‘Why Nurse Roslin? What about Dr Collins, or the man in the suit? Caroline, I’m so confused.’

‘Take my word for it, sweetie. She’s the one to deal with. The rest are nothing compared.’

She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. I felt so much safer when she was about.

‘I’m so lucky you’re here,’ I said. ‘What must we do?’

‘We must put Nurse Roslin out of action. Capture her and stop her. Perhaps we need to kill her. Syra, are you willing to try?’

I hesitated. She squeezed my shoulder again. I looked into her eyes and she smiled broadly.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes! Anything!’