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ASYLUM TALES

The title of the story describes it all

Author’s Note:  Damn, it’s been about three months away from the keyboard with the exceptions of a couple additions already laying around to other stories.  JJ seems to be a prophet; I’ve gotten the urge to revive and add a couple chapters of ‘The Nanny’ next month with it being the most popular of my tales.  (And on its anniversary since I started that story last October)   But first, I figured I’d do a one time deal and rattle off some chapters of a few damsels in distress just to get back into the flow.  I have to admit it’s nothing great and didn’t take much thought.  It’s even not very original actually, but hey, what the Hell, it’s free, ain’t it?   

Part One? Perception is reality? Or is it?

Chapter One

       Hazy, drifting into a terrifying consciousness, flat on her back she finds herself incapable of blinking as she instantly realizes her eyelids are inflexibly spread apart with strips of surgical tape.  Rigidly strapped down spread-eagled on the hot, dampened gurney type apparatus her burning eyes dart back and forth as she’s forced to stare upwards into the glaring lamps crisscrossing the stark ceiling above the harsh metal surface her naked body’s sprawled across.  A thick leather strap burrowing itself painfully across her hairline holds her head firmly in place as her chafed wrists and ankles stretch, cuffed to taut ropes stretching toward the four raised eyelets of the table’s corners.  The gurney secured to the floor in the center of the hot, heavily humid concrete walled room, her svelte body virtually arches from the neck down, twitches from the tensioning straps, her defined ribcage outlined above her rippling abs as her inverted navel flutters, pooling, overflowing with the perspiration streaking across her glistening naked flesh.

The pain searing, once again her mind can’t block the unrelenting sounds of the sporadic ratcheting beneath the apparatus intertwining with the creaking, practically tearing of her joints across her extended extremities.  Fists clenching, toes curling while finding herself agonizingly anticipating the horrendous sound of each random slow clank below her, her youthful but globular breasts stand virtually upright from her heaving chest surmounting the physical pain, mentally she’s terrified that she’s being slowly torn apart.

Glazed eyes burning from her own perspiration, her hellish agony continues on and on, spittle flecking out from the oversized bright red ‘O’ ring forced between her yawning lips and gnawing teeth as she hoarsely grunts with each rasping breath while she struggles to even breathe.  Her heartbeat thumping, pounds deep in her chest from stark terror as her body continues to distort to the occasional but persistent clanking of the apparatus.  Feeling the insistent pressure of her arms, legs stretching, tearing, her taut body repeatedly arches, her boyish buttocks vibrating across the harsh metal surface.  The torment excruciating through every fiber of her naked body, bordering on delirium she prays for the pain to end, or at least for a respite of unconsciousness.

A clank, another clank, yet another insidious clank and she reflexively grunts even harsher with each searing, terrifying tug.  Virtually stretched suspended above the gurney, certain her shoulders are dislocating as her naked body quivers above the flat surface, her butt cheeks raise even higher, barely scraping across the flat metal, her head bent back frantically, barely twisting from side to side as she again hazily catches a glimpse of the familiar white clothed attendants stepping around the gurney, the ominous long flat razor straps swaying in their hands.  Even in her unimaginable pain her eyes pleadingly widen beneath the stretching tape as she’s forced to watch the tanned curling straps from either side of her prone body being raised in their clenching fists, snapping downward toward her bare chest, curling toward her spread areolas, unprotected nipples quivering up from her outthrust breasts. 

‘Thaw? Thwack!’  Almost surreal, in slow motion she watches through her unblinking, blurring eyes at the first couple blows of the flexing wet leather slamming downward simultaneously across her flailing breasts from both angles, the force of the slashing straps causing her tautly stretched body to reverberate against the table.  Head jerking back and forth in the tensioning strap holding her forehead down, the painful rhythm of the flogging quickly mounts as she’s repeatedly flailed across her naked breasts in unison, back and forth, above and below her jerking nipples, across her flattening areolas.  ‘Thwack? Thwack? Thwack? Thwack!!!’

The constant ‘thwack’ of leather across bare flesh, her gurgling grunts, she feels her glistening body virtually bouncing up and down across the puddled flat steel surface.  Unable to squint, to turn her head, she’s unable not to focus on the subtle wide razor straps rising, curling downward, flickering as they pass between the ceiling lights glaring down from above them before smacking across her tortured breasts, the firm mounds bruising, flattening, elongating as they independently bounce across her bare chest.  ‘Thwack? Thwack? Thwack? Thwack!’

Dazed, disoriented, the blows still mainly centered across her bruised breasts, her rapidly swelling nipples, the constant sound of the thrashing mixed with the attendant’s evil, sadistic grunts as they lean into the flailings, she can’t block the echoes reverberating over and over off the room’s walls.  The overall pain overwhelming her, the lights seeming to dim, the room slowly fading into darkness leaves only the constant ‘smacking’ sounds of the damp straps echoing in her ears, resonating in her mind as she finally lapses back into a merciful unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

Waking, heart pounding, protectively curling her naked body on the damp bedspread as she crosses her arms, slides her hands around her bare shoulders, the sharp nails of her trembling fingers dig painfully into her damp flesh.  Aching breasts flattening beneath her pressing forearms, glancing over at the digital clock on the dresser, 2:43 am, she apprehensively partially raises, glances around as her dark matting hair sticks to her shoulders.  Hesitantly setting upright as she flips her feet, then her legs off the edge of the bed, she notices her shoulders, hips also aching as she slides the palms of her hands behind her onto the sheets while carefully glancing down in the shadows toward her bare, glistening breasts.

Reaching out with her left hand, the thin medical band slipping down her wrist, she flips on the wall lamp’s timer switch.  The light blinking on, tilting her head, staring from one side to the other she’s sure she can notice some discoloring, blotching across her glistening chest as she slides across the crinkled white sheets away to apprehensively stand on the floor.  Stepping gingerly toward the dresser mirror, leaning across the bare dresser and glancing over her naked body, a second, third look at her swaying breasts hanging down off her arched out chest, she watches as they gently sway while she searches for the bruising, or at the least some marks that must have been left from the whipping she just experienced, the severe flogging, certain they must be noticeable as her heart pounds just a little harder.  Staring, touching, she can only find what she thinks are the slightest discolorations around the more tender areas of her firm breasts, especially the spread areolas and flattened nipples.

       Back to the bed, sliding up toward the headboard on her buttocks, the pillows with their white pillowcases stacked between the wall and her backside, she crosses her legs, stares into the darkness as she flips off the light and crosses her arms in front of her chest.  Another agonizing middle of the night nightmare but somehow leaving the faintest, but she’s certain, visible bruises as she feels herself slowly rocking, swaying, letting her aching breasts rest across her crossing forearms.  Waiting for daylight, worrying that falling asleep will just bring a continuation of the nightmare; she’s terrified at the realization that each time it seems even more realistic, and seems to being drawn closer to a terrible conclusion.

       Knowing it’s still hours before the lights in the ceiling automatically come on again and the staff makes their initial rounds of the day, she’ll try to wait it out, not go back to sleep.  Watching the digital clock, listening for any sounds outside her locked door, she continues to gently rock back and forth on the bed above the sheets, naked, perspiring while terrifyingly awaiting out the night.

       The clock slowly clicking with each minute, able to count to within a second of each click, she’s already become fairly adept at the little game to pass the time.  2:47am? 253am? 2:59am.  Glancing away from the clock and up toward the ceiling, the countdown’s in her mind.  Three o’clock, four, five o’clock pass by as her blurred mind counts on as she struggles to somehow stay awake.  Thousand fifty-eight? Thousand fifty-nine? Thousand sixty?. Thous?. The lights flick on, within a half second at most, she thinks in her dazed state as she continues to cross her scraped shoulders with her gripping fingernails, her breasts still spreading out across her forearms as she can’t help glancing down with the light, looking again for the bruises, the marks from last night’s torture.

       The door opening, the trio of white clad attendants with surgical masks and caps enter the room.  Silent as always, one man with a clipboard and pencil, one man with the push cart containing assorted white paper cups, syringes, and the third a woman with a stethoscope, thermometer and also wearing an apron around the waist.  Completely silent at first, they step toward the side of the bed.

       ?Assume the proper position face down on the bed.?  The woman orders, her voice stern, expecting immediate obedience, staring with her piercing dark eyes between the mask and cap.  ?You’re been up way to early!?

Knowing the consequences of speaking, of not obeying, sliding down across the bed, turning onto her stomach, slipping her knees up beneath her, she thrusts her buttocks upward, spreading her knees outward as she crosses her hands behind her neck, flattens her breasts against the mattress as her elbows practically touch up behind her head, her face pressing into a pillow.

?Remain.?

The single word’s quickly followed by the coolness of the thin glass tube slipping between her butt cheeks, past the sphincter muscles of her puckered rectum.  Just a couple moments, the likewise coolness of the stethoscope’s tip presses against the outer globe of her left breast before sliding beneath her against the flattened nipple, resting across the hardening nub as the woman’s hand tugs the flattened breast outward from the mattress.

?Now turn over.?

The next order again just brief harsh words as both instruments are slid away even as she turns, twists on her back, spreads her legs, arms apart, then stretches.  It’s the same routine as always.

?Bow and spread? Then rise.?

That order almost harsh, and the hardest and most humiliating to follow, she bows backwards, forces the palms of her hands and the bottoms of feet into the sinking mattress as she arches her back awkwardly  upwards, forcing her torso up off the mattress.  Breasts spreading, separating out off her chest, the top of her head presses into the pillowcase as she assumes her semi circle arch in front of the woman and both men.  Remaining in her pose, hands, feet digging into the mattress, she feels her breasts manipulated, the nubs of her nipples tweaked, the areolas twisted and stretched.   Biting her lower lip as she maintains her position, knowing the only reason for this treatment has to be for their own sadistic pleasure, she feels the woman’s fingers sliding down across her thighs, slipping between her spread slit, feels the probing of her vagina, the fingers twisting, spreading between her quivering labium, flattening the nub of her clitoris.

?Kneel and spread!... Now!?

Slumping, almost falling backwards back onto the bed, quickly flipping onto her knees and spreading her legs while slipping her hands behind her neck, she arches forward, her naked spread-eagled body facing the foot of the bed as she stares straight ahead past the men’s leering eyes.  Again biting her lip, holding her breath, she watches from the corner of her eye as the woman picks out a large syringe, lets just a dribble of its clear contents escape its tip before stepping beside the bed.  The attendant with the cart in the mean time selects two small cups, steps to the other side of the bed and holds one against her lips as she tilts her neck back for him to dump its contents of pills into her opening mouth.  Dropping that cup, palming her breast as if holding her still but obviously for no real reason except to grope her, holding the other cup up, dumping its liquid contents between her spread lips, he waits for her to completely swallow as he squeezes her nipple, forces her to raise just a tad higher on her knees as he forces her to show the bottom of her tongue to him as she does with every medication.

?Hold still.?

The order barely given by the woman, both nipples tweaked by the man forcing her to raise even higher, a cold swab’s instantly dabbed across her bare flesh before the burning prick of the needle jams deeply into the left buttock. The deep probing sting’s quickly overshadowed by the warm, ripple like effect of the contents spreading across her backside to throughout her body in just brief moments. The effect practically instantaneous, she almost sways as the harsh light softens across the room, its all white d?cor blending into a haze.

       ?All done? Now?Go??Baaack???Tooooo????Sleeeeeep.?

       Hearing the words, sounding to her fogging mind almost like a slowed down version of an old phonograph record played on the wrong speed, she sways, assisted clumsily downward by her clenched breasts as she slowly slumps onto the mattress before the hands release.  Curling onto the bed, in just moments the door shuts behind the three attendants, the dreaded sleep again unavoidable as the ceiling lights flicker off.

       Minutes pass as she loses her struggle to stay awake.  Seemingly in-between consciousness and unconsciousness, drifting incoherently into darkness, the distant sounds of leather smacking flesh slowly becomes louder, harsher again in her head.  The constant rhythm growing ever louder as she attempts to roll onto her side, she feels her body again somehow becoming rigid, again somehow being stretched on the metal gurney by her wrists and ankles as the brute force of the unrelenting straps, the pain of the leather flattening across her breasts corresponds with the insidious sounds becoming ever louder, real, painfully realistic.

Her eyes squinting open, now somehow tapped apart again, staring at the bright hazy light reflecting down off the ceiling, the images rematerialize of the flexing straps slamming across her naked flesh as she sees the glaring reddish eyes between the white masks and the matching surgical caps concentrating flailing her naked breasts.  Whipped, bruised and swollen the battered mounds continue to flatten as the dampened straps tear across them over and over, unceasingly, the searing pain spreading across her torso.  Finding herself again in the middle of the horrific flogging, her hoarse screams echoes off the walls from between the ‘O’ ring stretching her mouth until she physically can’t scream anymore through her raw throat.

A dozen, two, three dozen until the better part of a hundred of unrelenting lashings slash across her bare chest as time’s become somehow immeasurable, the tender flesh of her tortured breasts discolored and swollen while her chaffed wrists and ankles grind in the harsh leather cuffs.  Gagging for breath, again hearing the ratcheting sound from below the table, her joints seem to tear from her extended limbs, her arms and legs stretching impossibly well past their limits.  The pain excruciating, insidious, her tortured body wavers across the sweat drenched table, her shoulders, hips feeling as if they’ve dislocated as the harsh straps continue to batter her pulverized breasts.  The room dimming, swirling, mercifully, again she loses consciousness.

Chapter Three

        Awakening to the sunlight filtering in between the open blinds up on the window and the opening of the hall door, she reflexively rolls over on her back, her mind cluttered as her breasts ache while she cups them with the palms of her hands.  Trying to comprehend her predicament, her shoulders and hips also ache, but obviously aren’t dislocated.  Glancing toward the psychiatrist and the three attendants stepping toward the bed, all as usual dressed in their white garb including the masks and caps, she crosses her arms over her naked breasts as she slides her knees defensively up beneath her. 

?Sit up? Kneel and spread? Hands behind your neck.?

The doctor’s voice calm but assertive, he watches as she clumsily but instantly obeys even as the female attendant steps toward the other side of the bed, waiting a moment before sliding the thermometer between the quickly spreading thighs parting above the mattress.  Another brief moment or two and the female assistant presses the stethoscope across the naked breasts of the spread-eagled patient obediently kneeling as ordered.

Glancing away during her brief examination, catching the digital clock clicking to 6:03am, she again stares straight ahead as she remains silent, waits for the thermometer to be slid back out of her rectum.

?Look at me? Keep your eyes on my hand?. Don’t blink? Remain motionless? Ignore everything else? But my voice?????..?

Hearing his even, assertive yet soothing tone, obeying and turning her head she stares directly into his deep eyes before she catches the flickering, almost annoying glitches of the small object in the palm of his hand being held up.  Feeling the cold swab on her butt cheek from behind, the prickling probe of the syringe from the hand of the female attendant, she reflexively jerks while still staring at the almost foggy specks of light emitting from his palm while his voice almost instantly becomes a hazy blur.  Feeling a hand cupping her chin, pills slipped between her lips followed by the sweetened yet bitter solution of the second cup, ignoring her breast being squeezed, she swallows as her eyes remain transfixed.

The warmth already spreading, the echoing ripples of the syringe’s medication flowing throughout her arched body, she remains transfixed spread-eagled on the bed, her eyes glazing as she hears the doctor’s monotone and soothing voice over and over again until silence.  Seeming to mentally drag behind real time, realizing the door’s shutting behind the shadowy silhouettes of the white clothed group leaving her alone in the room, she attempts to remain motionless, to sit upright as the room slowly swirls around her.  Swaying back and forth, her naked body finally slumps across the rumpled bedspread onto her side as she barely notices the digital clock clicking to 6:41am before losing consciousness.

Eyes again opening as the white clothed attendants surround the bed, she helplessly feels her naked body being lifted onto the metal gurney, her wrists and ankles systematically stretched and cuffed to the four corners. The restraints tugged until her body flexes against the metal surface, she feels herself rolled from the room, down the hallway as the masked faces stare down toward her from either side.  Twisting her head, watching almost incoherently as some of the separate doors passed by are partially open with what seems like all women, young women strapped naked to beds, some moaning, some struggling.

Rolled toward the trio of double stainless steel doors at the very end of the hallway, the gurney’s jerked to a stop, a button’s pushed on the wall, lighting up.  A couple moments, a buzzer sounds as the doors slide apart, opens and she’s wheeled forward to find herself on what appears to be an out of place fright elevator.  Left alone as the doors slam shut, dropping swiftly downward as the pit of her stomach churns during the spiraling drop, the lighting seeming to dim, blink during the freefall until she feels the elevator finally slow; jerkily stop as the stainless steel double doors immediately slide open.  Another group of surgically attired attendants, white caps and masks are waiting; wheel her down another hallway into an isolated room where the gurney’s rolled beside a hollow round wooden stool with a single vertical post attached behind it.

Uncuffed from the gurney she’s immediately forced to straddle the stool.  Disoriented, her wrists and elbows are tautly bound behind the narrow post thrusting her chest outward as her head slumps forward.  A leather strap stretched across her forehead, tugged back across the post forces her to stare forward as her knees and ankles are bound to the sides of the stool spreading her thighs apart.  Still barely conscious, her mouth’s pried open and a cinch like gag’s forced between her lips as her teeth bite down into the firm rubber.  A capsule snapped, whiffed back and forth across her upper lip, she grunts, jerks in her bindings as her mind clears.

Heart pounding, seeing the activity surrounding her, watching a foreboding black metal encased instrument wheeled beside the stool, reality strikes as her eyes widen, begin to dart back and forth.  Seeing the multiple gauges across its tilted front, the wires and pliers like clamps dangling from its sides, her heart thumps in her chest as her raw wrists grind back and forth behind the post, trying to break free, escape.  Watching the first of a pair of red clamps, not unlike a car battery jumper cable being unwound, she apprehensively watches as the wires are unknotted.  A black clamp, also one of a pair, it’s also stretched and straightened as she still struggles, grunts through the choking gag as the red clamp’s handed to the female attendant standing just beside her.

Feeling her breast gripped, squeezed tightly by its base, she’s barely able to glance down to see her spreading areola, the serrated teeth of the clamp spreading around the nub of her puckering left nipple.  Reflexively squinting her eyes squeeze shut as she feels the clamp snap tight.  ?Aaaaaaagggghhhh!?

The metal teeth ripping into her tit flesh, the clamp dropping, swaying from her flattened nipple, her teeth sink into the hard rubber stretching from cheek to cheek as the leather strap grinds across  her twisting forehead.

Breast thumping, pulsing in the tensioning clamp, blurry eyed, the tears stream down her cheeks as she watches hysterically while the black clamp’s handed to the woman, its metal teeth quickly slipped across her right breast, the spreading teeth surrounding that puckering nipple.  ?Aaaaaggggghhhhhh!!?

Another hideous scream as that clamp sways across her hollowed ribcage, the handles clanking together between her firm globular mounds.  Biting, chewing at the cinch, the searing hot pain jolting through her breasts with each escalating heartbeat, she feels her thighs being forced to spread even further as a hand probes at her spread butt cheeks, twisting at the tender flesh separating her pair of exposed orifices.  The second red clamp handed to the woman now kneeling, the wire stretching down below the stool; she feels the tips of the metal prongs jamming past both her sphincter muscles and into her gapping vagina.  Jerking her head back and forth beneath the harsh leather strap, grunting, pleading through the cinch spreading her drooling mouth, she feels the insidious pain as the clamp’s released.  ?Aaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!?

The serrated metal teeth sinking into her most tender flesh, crunching the thin, sensitive wall between her rectum and vagina, her body lurches, jerks, twists on the stool as the strap keeps her head pressed against the creaking post behind her.  The clamps jerking, bouncing across her chest, the pain of her tearing flesh is unimaginable as her naked body spasms, thrashes in its bindings.  Grunting, groaning, biting the cinch as her eyes roll up in her head, she feels the warmth of her blood dripping, streaking, and dripping off her naked breasts.

Drool and tears mixing with mucus across her face, dripping down across her heaving chest to mix with the remnants of the blood, she barely realizes the forth clamp, another black one’s being stretched toward the front of the stool, between her trembling thighs.  Its teeth opened, the nub of her clitoris pressed between it, it’s released.  ?Aaaaaagggggghhhhhh!!!... Aaaaagggghhhhh!!!... AaaaaggggghhhH!!!?  The harsh metal teeth sinking into her clitoris, also the edges of the tearing folds of her labia, her body contorts, twists in the bindings as each forced breath is just another hoarse shriek.  Burning, searing pain pulsing with each rasping breath throughout her tortured body causing the stool to shake, she’s almost incoherent as the room blurs before her tear drenched eyes even as she sees a hand reaching for the dials on the instrument.  The mixture of her blood tracing across her drenched, perspiration soaked naked flesh; she shakes her head back and forth in its chaffing binding across her forehead as the handle’s twisted a full turn.   ?Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggghh????????  Unimaginable pain? Followed by darkness.

Chapter Four                    

       Eyes squinting open, her hands already cupping her breasts, she finds herself again on her side in a fetal position on the mattress.  The room in shadows, she glances up toward the lone window high on the wall, its blinds shut, allowing in just a hint of sunlight from the overcast sky.  Sitting up, her thighs, breasts aching, the digital clock reads 2:22pm as she leans over and flips on the timer switch to the wall light.  Slowly sliding off the damp bed spread, another glance into the dresser mirror, she feels her puffy nipples, certain her fingernails are gliding across barely noticeable serrated indentations.  Her hand between her thighs, her fingers pressing against the sensitive swollen nub of her clit, she spreads her legs, bows to take a closer look.  Again glancing up into the mirror, her hollowing brown eyes, her dark frayed hair, without her makeup she appears a shadow of herself.  From a twenty year old and offered a photo shoot for a Hooter’s calendar just months before and a previous winner of uncountable wet t-shirt contests, she looks, feels haggard.  

       Glancing at the bed, slowly stepping back toward it, sitting, again sliding up across the damp mattress, she leans against the backboard, stares toward the shadows.  The nightmares becoming more and more painful, the pain so realistic her stomach’s still nauseated, she feels her matting hair clinging to her shoulders, across her back as she bites her lower lip and gently rocks.  Watching the door, knowing the attendants will be back soon, she wonders what day it is.  Not able to recall how long she’s been here, two days, three, maybe as much as a week, only the nightmares, the inspections break the time into any kind of fragments.  Unable to keep her eyes from the digital clock, the little game begins anew, thousand one? Thousand two?

The minutes flipping by into what seems like agonizing hours, the door finally swings open.  Three new attendants, same protocol as she flips over, turns and twists during the inspection.  Probed and manipulated, more pills, another shot in the ass that she dreads, yet finds herself somehow yearning for, she again slumps across the bed, the bedspread’s dampness not noticeable to her as her eyes remain partially open, the pupils spreading, glazing.  The door shutting, the blinds still closed high up on the window, the room becomes dim as the dark walls seem to close in, sway in and out around the wavering bed while she blinks, struggles but closes her eyes for what just seems like brief moments? Until her body suddenly bucks from the electrical current.

Screaming into a rag stuffed in her mouth, she finds herself somehow again bound to the stool, watching the haze of what appears to be whiffs of smoke rising from her clamped nipples as each turn of the handle sends a searing pulsing current through her contorting breasts.  That sequence of shocks unbearable, that pain’s not even close to the equivalent of the indescribable pain suddenly jolting between her spread thighs as her vagina receives a severe jolt through the dangling clamps below the stool.  Eyes darting below the strap binding her forehead to the post behind her, catching the sight of the feverish hands working the dials back and forth, she grunts, thrashes in her restraints as she sees both dials between twisted fully around simultaneously.   ?Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!!?   Her animalistic scream’s barely audible from her hoarse throat

Incoherent, her body reflexively jerking from jolt after jolt, one knob turned, the other twisted, both at the same time, back and forth, she can’t control her spasms, her bladder as urine spurts between her spread thighs.  Breasts flailing, the serrated teeth of the clamps gripping, burrowing ever deeper into her bleeding flesh as the heavy clamps bounce, twist across her arching chest, the matching pair hangs down and sways beneath her trembling thighs as her guttural screams are stifled by the thick rag spreading her jaws apart, her eyes rolling back in her head.  Blanking out, reviving, blanking out again, reviving again, she smells the burning flesh of her breasts, from between her thighs, senses the smoldering, hazing air circling the creaking stool.

Heart thumping in her chest, wheezing, coughing with each rapid, rasping breath, her straining, glistening body stiffens, jerks against the post as all the knobs are twisted to full power.  Fingers stiffening behind her, toes’ scraping into the floor beneath the stool, the power’s left on for eight, nine, ten seconds before finally turned off as her uncontrollable body spasms, slumps limply in the bindings, the strap still holding her head firmly against the post. Again the relief of unconsciousness.

Eyes blinking, again curled into a fetal position on the wet mattress her body trembles as the attendants grabs, slide her to the side of the bed.  Forcing her to stand, her naked body glistens as they grip her arms from either side; the sheet’s changed along with the rubber spread covering the mattress.  Led into the bathroom, placed under the shower, the hot water drenches her bare flesh as she semiconsciously feels herself being scrubbed. Toweled off, directed back to the bed, she’s laid on her backside naked, head up on the pillows against the headboard.

Staring with glazed eyes toward the doctor, the attendants in their usual garb, emotionally exhausted, her hands reflexively slide down between her thighs, up across her nipples, searching and probing for the remnants of her tortures as if no one’s watching her.  The memory of the pain so real, her nudity, her fingering of herself doesn’t register, matter.

?Hands behind your head.?

Hearing his command, reflexively obeying, she stares blankly toward the doctor.

?Watch my hand? Listen? Listen to my voice.?

Obedient, feeling her chin cupped, the pills followed by the solution, a dribble streaking from the corner of her lip splashing across her bare breast, she watches the flickering in his palm, listens to his somewhat mundane voice.  Feeling a cool swab across her thigh, the stinging burn followed by the soothing spread of warmth, deep, deep inside her mind she realizes she’s soon going to be tortured again, even if just in her confused mind.  The room seeming to blur, the door distortedly shuts as she’s again alone.  Struggling to count, to stay awake, the numbers are almost erratic in her mind.  Thousand one? Thousand two??? Thousand thr??

       

Chapter Five

Hearing the door jerking open again, this time much louder then normal as it almost slams against the wall behind it, she’s unable to move on her own as the white clothed attendants rapidly surround the bed.  Her body’s twisted and forced face first across the bed as she feels her wrists tightly roped, her elbows tied tightly together while her frayed hair’s twisted and wrapped in a fist with her head jerked backward.  Seeing the white clothed attendants working almost feverously around her, she feels the harsh twine rope looped around her swaying breasts as she’s arched back.  Each breast’s wrapped simultaneously three, four, five twists, the swelling globes searing with pain as she feels the prickling twine dig deeper and deeper into her tit flesh.

       Rolled onto her side as her bulging bare breasts stand outright, separating as the twine narrows to what seems like less then a couple inches against her breastbone, her areolas, nipples stretch across the discoloring flesh spreading to nearly half the size of her shimmering melons.  Each ankle’s gripped, twine wrapped several harsh loops around both with the ends of the twine stretched up behind her, looped over her shoulders and tugged until her ankles overlap her elbows bound behind her back.  The ends of the ropes tied over the top of the twine already binding her breasts, jerking, tugging, her back bows as her breasts are jerked upward beneath her chin.  Another rope’s bound to between her wrists, slid between her butt cheeks and stretched upwards between the puffy labia folds.  Disappearing between her slit, scraping across her clitoris, tugged viciously up across her navel, its other end’s wrapped between her bulging globes and stretched tight.

       The pain again searing, the ropes burning into her tortured flesh, her breasts appear ready to burst as they’ve quickly discolored to a deep shade of purple as the grinding twine between her thighs chafes across her sensitive clit.  Grunting, rasping for breath as her hair’s released, she feels her body being rolled over again, off the edge of the bed.  Thumping face first across her ballooning breasts, practically bouncing off the floor, she feels her hair again grasped, her naked body dragged toward the door.

       Still open to the hallway, she glances blurry eyed toward the bright lights as she’s hoisted upwards, her breasts wrapped with a pair of cords connected to a jerking pulley that tugs her almost balled up naked body off the floor, raised to beneath a set of rails mounted to coaster wheels.  The apparatus rolled down the hallway as her body twists, turns beneath the pulley, her entire weight’s suspended from her engorged breasts.  Rolled through the kitchen, the size of a restaurant’s, and wheeled in front of the freezer compartment; she’s hosed down from a sink hose.  Drenched, gagging, the freezer door’s open as her eyes catch the large thermometer at nearly zero as the cold blast of air rocks her tortured flesh.  Shoved inside, the door closed and locked as her body twists, sways in the chains, the lights are flipped off as she feels the moisture on her bare flesh instantly harden, freezing.  The pain again unbearable, burning, freezing, her body shivers, spasms as it slowly twists in the nearly sub zero darkness.  Gagging coughing, again the darkness becomes even darker as her body stiffens.

       Shivering, curled into a fetal position, her eyes blink open in the dark room.  The digital clock reading 7:26pm she grips her shoulders, twitches her toes.  Trying to slip the sheet up over her naked body, unable to pull it out from under her, she rolls toward the edge of the bed across her flattening breasts.  Again glancing at the clock, reaching over and hitting the timer switch, she raises into a sort of pushup position as her breasts sway beneath her.  Slipping a foot off the bed, finding the floor, slipping her other foot onto the floor, she stands while still gripping the mattress.  Glancing down toward her swaying globes, standing upright, she staggers to the dresser mirror.

       Cupping both breasts, staring down toward them, toward the mirror, their coldness to the touch seems still obvious to her as she gently squeezes, inspects the faintest of marks appearing to circle each breast.  Reaching down, feeling the soreness, the yet not quite raw nub of her clit, it too seems cool to the touch.  Stepping back to the bed, collapsing across it face first, she doesn’t need to glance at the clock again as she’ll just wait and think.  The mattress covers not damp this time, actually the warmth on the pleasant side; she tries to understand the realistic tortures she goes through virtually every time she drifts into unconsciousness.  Eyes barely open as she gazes into nowhere, body limp, her mind wanders in her exhausted state as she tries to comprehend her madness.

       Already she’s unable to remember the particulars of every single torture except that the pain’s unbearable and lasts for hours on end during nightmare after nightmare and that they’re never piecemeal or drift into other scenarios like ordinary dreams seem to do.  And, she could swear there’s always some sort of visible remnant of the tortures left even though not as they should be if the nightmares were even faintly real.  What she does realize is that the pain always seems realistic, even excruciating for the entire unconscious period, leaving her exhausted and terrorized of sleep, which again she briefly succumbs too.

       Deep in maddening thought, having just received her latest heavily drugged injection well down on a butt cheek, the sound of the door opening doesn’t faze her as the three administrators step into the room followed by the doctor and the court magistrate.  Stepping around her as she sits in the middle of the room facing the long table, her wrists, ankles shackled to a wheelchair, the group takes their seats to face her from behind the table except for the doctor.  Waiting for the magistrate to glance over the files, the doctor stands beside the patient, unfastens her hospital gown, slides it down off her nude body and behind the chair.

       The room quite, she’s exposed under the incandescent lights as the doctor manipulates her breasts, spreads her thighs to reveal virtually every aspect of her naked body.  Quietly shaking his head back and forth, he steps toward the table, in front of the magistrate.

       ?As you can see in her eyes? She’s practically incoherent? And of course, no scarring, serious injuries.?  He points out.  ?Only minor abrasions or discolorations caused by her very own hands? That’s why we keep her just mildly sedated? To protect her from herself!?

       Glancing toward her in obvious pity, her reddened eyes, barely conscious stare, the administrator firmly stamps the folder in front of him.  ?This is just a formality? I don’t need to go any further? Another sorry story isn’t it?... I don’t see how you can deal with the derangements of so many young women? Their minds so distorted to reality.?  Glancing toward the three administrators, he continues.  ?It seems like weekly I’m here to certify another beautiful girl is no longer competent to function outside your facility, much less in the real world.?

       Slowly nodding his head, he glances once again over the front page of the file before adding.  ?Her complaints here in her file of being repeatedly tortured are obviously a figment of her imagination?  I’ve already seen enough Doctor? It’s a shame? Such a beautiful young woman too? I’ll recommend her also to your custody? And to whatever treatment you deem necessary? I’m sure the court will accept my recommendation? It always does as you know.?  Handing the file to the closest administrator, he adds.  ?She’s all yours until you decide she’s well? If ever!?

       Hearing the conversation in front of her, barely able to part her lips, she hears the doctor’s voice as she can barely shake her head pleadingly back and forth, even as she doesn’t even know if she’s awake or hallucinating as her wheelchair’s turned, rolled toward the door by an attendant In hospital garb.

       ?Excellent? Excellent Sir.?  The Doctor answers.  ?And it may take months, or God forbid? Even years? And believe me? You don’t realize just how dedicated and involved we are to her cause!? And for now, I think that like some of the others here? She just needs to be taken back to her room and get plenty of rest to start with? We’ll just medicate her to sleep for the time being!... We have just what she needs? Here at the institution.?

       Escorting the magistrate down the hall to the foyer, the doctor smiles at the thought of how many more just like her in the asylum also needs his attention, and will certainly be receiving it.

End Part One