Chapter Twenty Eight
Ted Dalton
“Can you speak?”
It is Dr. Reinhold asking another question. She persists...and of course I obediently try to answer. But the words pour out in an unintelligible slur and even I do not understand what I am saying. I hear her laughing under her breath.
“Over time you will learn to speak very slowly and work to pronounce each word. It will be easier when the swelling dissipates.”
Once again I hang in harness in the Island’s medical building. It is so comfortable compared to the unyielding nightly bondage and electrical torture at the clinic. Yet, I experience many periods of terror.
Yesterday, I think it was yesterday, Dr. Reinhold resumed assaulting me with her needles. She gathered up a pinch of flesh over my left hip and thrust one of her longer shards through about an inch of thick epidermis. Once again I was skewered. She twisted, as seems to be the standard procedure, and let the thin length of steel set while she did the same to my right hip.
She stepped back to satisfy herself that her new openings were symmetrical. Then she held up a curious strand of steel, about the same gauge as that of the metal encircling my ankles, approximately that of a wedding ring. It was long...about three feet...and flexible. She bent it so the two ends came together to form a circle and held it up before me.
“Your new waist band,” she gleefully announced.
The needles were removed and she threaded an end of the long band of steel through the punctured flesh on my left hip. The opening allowed the band to penetrate the skin at a point near the very front of my hip bone, slide beneath and then exit to the rear at a point at the top of my left buttock. She pushed more of it through the new aperture so that it circled around my back. There she inserted it into the opening over my right hip. She positioned the two ends together over my navel and, with a spark and a moment of searing heat, welded them together.
Yes, my waist was banded...permanently...and in threading the circle of steel through the two piercings, it could not be slid off...it could not be slid anywhere!
It was painful and felt most awkward, though Nurse Naomi assured me that like all permanent alterations, I would become accustomed to it.
Today I was given an anesthetic. Other than the mentally sedating effects of the Thorazine, it was the first time I was not required to feel the full brunt of the pain from Dr. Reinhold’s procedures. She worked in my mouth. I was conscience and felt things happening but certainly not the intense pain of the various piercings.
So here I hang trying to speak in response to her question. At first, I attribute my ludicrous attempts to enunciate words to the effects of the anesthetic. Then I realize she has done something to my tongue.
She reaches to my mouth.
“Give me a nice ‘ahhhh’ and show me that tongue, Mr. Dalton.”
I comply, as trained. She tugs with a gloved hand. I am amazed to feel the wet warmth of my oral appendage touch the very bottom of my chin. It is amazingly long.
“A simple operation, really. I have incised a couple of small ligaments, which formerly served to hold back the tongue. Thus I have loosened it. You can now extend it much further than before. And I have added some implants. Mrs. Dalton sent us a MRI scan of her genitalia. I’ve added little bumps where she’ll most appreciate it. You will feel like your mouth is full of marbles...only don’t bother trying to spit them out. They’re permanently inserted under the surface of the tongue.”
She laughs softly. Though blindfolded I have come to know the look of Schadenfreude on the diabolical women of Constancia Island. I can imagine the expression of demented satisfaction on her face.
“Sleep, Mr. Dalton. Naomi will be encouraging you to speak from time to time and you will do your best to comply. Otherwise you need your rest. There is much more to come. At times you will feel heat on various parts of your body. We are going to remove all of your body hair...by special laser. Preliminary research suggests the removal will be permanent…though something may grow back...in twenty or thirty years.
/> “And your foreskin has an appointment with Nurse Jasmine. Though I can do circumcisions as well as any woman, Lady Constance promised Jasmine that all were hers for her collection. For Jasmine they are like scalps.”
I hear footsteps and cackling. Dr. Reinhold departs.
Hours later I feel exactly what Dr. Reinhold described. Someone is methodically passing an instrument over my shin. It hurts but is tolerable. My right arm is released and I approximate it takes some thirty minutes before the entire surface has been exposed to the radiant heat of the laser. Afterwards it is my left arm. Then my right thigh is released from its sling-like bond and actually touches the floor. After re-securing it, the left leg follows. I am grateful to feel the application of a numbing cream when it is time to apply the device to my scrotum.
After two or more hours, the procedure stops.
All limbs are carefully checked for proper bondage and I am left to while away the time, blindfolded and helplessly hanging in full suspension.
Nurse Naomi later awakes me. She holds my penis and I know to empty myself for her. She spoon feeds me the all too familiar mush and I have difficulty swallowing.
“Slowly, Mr. Dalton. Your tongue does not have use of all the ligaments it had in the past. And you’ll find that your implanted beads make it feel as if you have not swallowed everything. It’s a learning process.”
For some reason my penis becomes erect. I am becoming more and more easily aroused having been so long kept chaste, exhibited naked and then placed under the control of the Dominant female. I can hear Nurse Naomi’s giggled reaction.
“You so much enjoy showing off for me, Mr. Dalton. Just like a peacock. Well...soon you’ll be showing off for every woman all the time.”
Chapter Twenty Nine