The Last Ten Percent


Posted by rachael on August 09, 2005 at 22:57:40:

Copyright 2005 Rachael Ross all rights reserved.

There's an author's note, but it contains mild spoilers, so I put it at the end.

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The Last Ten Percent
fiction by rache

There is a question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”

The answer of course is, “Bad things happen to good people and what are you going to do about it?”

What a noble sentiment that is.

Once upon a time I was an actress. Not a big one, mind you, just commercials mostly, a few television shows as the pretty face in the background. Even three films, and two lines. Not much of a resume, but I was working.

I was tall once too. Very nearly 5’10” and I was proud of my legs, I worked hard on them. I danced, worked out, tanned, and babied them. My butt was tight and pert, my tummy smooth and my breasts perfect 36C’s, firm and natural. I spent a fortune on my hair, to keep it long and blonde and fine as silk. I have a face made for the camera, perfect teeth, a cute nose and eyes that can sell anything from Baby Oil to Budweiser. My boyfriend drove a Porsche and my apartment was on Melrose. Oh life was nice…like a dream.

And then I woke up.

I’d been in some sort of horrific accident, although I don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s just God being merciful. I opened my eyes and saw white. White everywhere, walls, ceiling, floor, sheets; my world was white. And I went back to sleep. I dreamt of tying my shoes, but I couldn’t find them. I felt I needed to tie them, but I didn’t know why and I was becoming desperate. A voice was telling me, whispering in my ear, “At least you’ll never have to tie your shoes again.” I turned around, but there was nobody there.

I woke up again and tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. I was so tired and my body hurt. My throat was dry and I saw a plastic cup with a built-in straw. I tried to reach for it, but my arms wouldn’t move. A nurse saw that I was awake and helped me. She asked how I was and I asked her where my shoes were. She looked a little sad. I thought perhaps people waking up in hospitals said a lot of strange things, so she ought to have smiled at that, wouldn’t you think? But she didn’t.

They couldn’t save my shoes. In fact they couldn’t save my legs; it took quite a while to glean that bit of information. It took longer to find out that they hadn’t been able to save my arms either. I didn’t look for a long time and they kept me sleepy anyway. When I did look all I saw were stumps. My legs were now 9 inches long, ending in white bandaged rounded stumps. I couldn’t even move them. My arms were even shorter, 6 inches each, with no fingers, no opposable thumbs.

“I can’t even use a fucking doorknob!” I screamed at the 3 doctors, 4 nurses, a psychiatrist, a priest, and my father.
It was a crowded room, but they could leave anytime they wanted. Just walk through the door.

They left one by one, promising to come back and take good care of me. My father left me last and asked me if I needed anything. What a bad joke. I had a list longer than my arm. “Yeah Dad, I need Dr. Kevorkian’s phone number.” He didn’t say anything.

Superman called me. Even sent me flowers, but at least he still looks normal. I couldn’t hold the phone and I didn’t have anything to say anyway. It must be nice to be strong like Superman. I’m not. I’m a worm.

My boyfriend came by once, and then he didn’t anymore.

I watched when they changed bandages and the stumps healed nicely, or so I was told. The scarring seemed terrible to me, but the doctors were pleased. It took a long time and I had to start physical therapy. I was never into BDSM, but that’s what physical therapy is. Even without any legs or arms, just a body and a head. It’s a scene from Dante’s Inferno, except the fires consume me from the inside out.

Jeremy is a Doctor, who specialized in physical therapy, of all things. He’s 33, unmarried, tall with short black hair, green eyes, a hard body and a great ass. He loves me, but I didn’t know that at first. I thought he hated me. I’d been transferred to a very exclusive and private hospital not far from the city. It was where I would…recover.

“You keep sitting in that chair and you’re gonna get a fat ass.” That was the first thing he ever said to me. He made a clucking sound and jerked his head.

“So what? I lost 50 pounds, I can afford it.” I was in the patient lounge, staring out the window, sitting in my wheel chair.

Someone, some…foundation…was going to spring for an electric one, with a little thing I could use with my mouth that would make it go this way and that, but it hadn’t come yet. So I sat and screamed when I wanted a push.

“Well, my name is Jeremy and I’ve just dedicated my life to fighting F.A.S. and you’re my first patient.”

“What’s F.A.S.?”

“Fat Ass Syndrome.” He grabbed my chair and started pushing me.

“Hey! What the fuck?” I looked over my shoulder at him. “I was doing something there!”

“Oh? And what was that Jenny?” He kept pushing.

“I was getting ready to jump out the window and get some pizza, what do you care?”

“Pizza?” He laughed. “Sounds good to me. But we need to change your clothes first.

“You serious?” My mouth was watering. I’d been in that hospital for 3 months and the Jello was killing me.

“Absolutely. But tonight, we have to do what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Sit-ups!” Jeremy chuckled.

“Yeah, right.” I laughed too. How was I gonna do sit-ups with no legs or arms? “Get me pizza and I’ll do all the sit-ups you want.”

We went into my room, which was in reality a three room apartment more than anything else, with a sitting room, bath, and bedroom. I’d basically moved in and the trucking company that had ruined my life was paying for it, or their insurance was. It didn’t really matter anyway, I could have afforded it easy, they’d settled out of court for $233,000,000.00 dollars. That’s millions. My lawyer told me that they’d saved that much just in punitive damages by settling. He looked wistful when he told me how badly he wanted to wheel me, a 20-year-old, former Miss Teen Washington, quad-amputee into a courtroom, but he’d made eighty mil anyway, so what was he complaining about?

We went into my bedroom, large and spacious enough to easily accommodate my wheelchair. Jeremy opened my closet. All my clothes were there and he picked out a white skirt and a pink angora sweater for me.

“Wait, uh, I’m not sure about this.”

“About what?”

“We’re…going…out?” I felt very anxious suddenly, like I couldn’t breathe. “I thought we’d eat…here…or something.”

“Here?” He laughed. “This is a hospital…No pizza for miles.” He laid my clothes on the bed and started taking off the patchwork quilt I wore when I was in my chair. “We’re gonna have to go to Pizza Hut, Jenny.”

“I changed my mind.”

“No, you didn’t.” He undid the little safety belt that made sure I couldn’t fall out. “You’re scared, that’s okay. But you’re hungry too, and that’s not okay.”

“W-What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your clothes.” Jeremy lifted me out of the chair easily and laid me gently sideways on the bed like a baby. That's how short I am now. “You can’t go like that.” He was saying.

I was wearing some old pajamas that I’d worn when I was 12, but I’d outgrown them. The legs and arms, I mean, everything else still fit okay as long as I didn’t do the top two buttons. My father had saved them and I didn’t know exactly why, but I liked wearing them now. They had pink bunnies on them.

“Aren’t you going to get a…nurse? Or something?”

“I’m a doctor Jenny, don’t worry. Besides, once I see you naked then that’ll be it…We’ll never wonder or worry about it ever again, right?”

“Uh…I’d feel better, I mean…I’d rather we just got a nurse and she could…”

“Too late.” He unbuttoned my pajama top while I was lying there and exposed my body completely. He spread it like wings and moved me just a little to get the stumps of my arms free. That didn’t take much. “There, see.” He smiled at me as I blushed furiously. “Still the professional.”

I didn’t say anything, I was too embarrassed. It was bad enough looking the way I did, but to have a strange man see me, doctor or not, was almost unbearable.

“Now, let’s get these off.” He undid the little drawstring and pulled my bottoms down and off, so I just lay there in my panties and nothing else. “Hmmm….Maybe we should change those too, what do you think?”

“W-What?” I stared at him and my voice trembled a little. “What?” I said it again.

“Your panties, let’s find something else.”

He pulled down my panties and I thought ‘Why aren’t you screaming, Jen?’ But I just closed my eyes and felt the heat rushing through me. I couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing my body naked, with just four pathetic stumps sticking out uselessly. He had to be totally repulsed by me.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Jenny.” I felt his hands touching my skin, just the fingertips across my tummy and I inhaled sharply. “So beautiful.”

His hand moved to my breast and he squeezed it a little, rubbing his thumb over my nipple and I felt it hardening despite my confusion.

“W-What are you doing?” I whispered.

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pinched my left nipple and pulled it so that I gasped.

“I-I-I don’t know…” I stammered.

“Do you want me to stop, Jenny?” He put his other hand on the soft mound of my sex, stroking me.

“I d-don’t know…I…” I didn’t know what he was doing. I hadn’t thought of myself as a sexual being since…since before.

“Yes you do.” He whispered. “Open your eyes, Jenny.” He moved to my other breast, flicking my nipple.

I opened my eyes and he smiled at me. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jenny?”

I stared at him in disbelief. “No…No! Please…stop this! I…get out!” I felt like I was waking up from a daydream. What was I doing? What was he doing? Who did he think he was?

“And what if I say no, Jenny?” He pushed a finger into my slit and I recoiled slightly. “What will you do then?”

“I…I’ll scream.” I said taking a deep breath.

“I don’t think so.” He grabbed my panties and shoved them into my mouth.

Jeremy flipped me over easily, so I was lying on my stomach with my face pressed to the mattress. “Let’s do it this way, Jenny.” He removed his belt and doubled it in his fist. He began whipping my ass hard, making soft grunting sounds as he swung that cruel leather belt in slow measured strokes. I felt the pain of it exploding over and over until I sobbed and felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I lost count after 20 or so, it just didn’t seem to matter after that. My body was on fire, bathing in pain and humiliation.

But…Oh, there’s always a ‘but’ isn’t there? I felt another warmth too, a deeper more urgent heat spreading out from my tummy. I was helpless and it excited some juvenile part of me that had imagined being taken by strange men. But that was before, when I was confused by the changes my body went through during puberty. I was a woman now and this wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I wanted…was it? I couldn’t tell anymore as I tried to grind my sex against the bed, flopping weakly on my belly and enduring the deep frustrating agony of not even being able to get off by myself. Everything I wanted was dependant on this man, this stranger abusing me.

He stopped and I felt his fingers between my short thighs, spreading my flesh and digging into my cunt. I was hot and wet and I struggled against his touch, dreading what he’d do when he found out.

“I see you like that, Jenny.” He chuckled and I sensed rather than saw him undressing behind me. “I think you’re ready for a good hard fuck, what do you say?”

I moaned into the gag and Jeremy laughed again. “I knew you were a slut.” He straddled the stumps of my legs and rubbed the head of his cock across my slit. I moved, as though I might somehow get away and Jeremy slipped the belt over my head, making a noose of it through his buckle and pulling it tight. “Fight it Jenny!” He whispered fiercely and I felt him stab with his hips, driving his cock into my aching vagina.

I groaned loudly and jerked with the sudden discomfort. But it wasn’t painful, in fact it felt good. I rocked my body, pulling against my leash while Jeremy rode me with hard deep strokes. His cock felt huge and probed me deeply until I could feel it crashing into the pillow of my cervix. I cried out uselessly into my gag.

“You little bitch.” Jeremy was slapping my ass while he fucked me. “You love this don’t you Jenny? Nod for me…Show me how much you love my cock!”

I nodded vigorously as my orgasm peaked, stealing my senses and driving me insane with lust. Jeremy felt my cunt tightening around him, milking him with soft contractions and he let me have the moment. Then he pulled out and I moaned at the emptiness.

“I’m going to take out your gag now.” He said, pulling the panties from my mouth and I sucked cool air gratefully. He sat in front of me, spreading his legs straight on either side of my body. “Suck my cock, slut.” I nodded and bent my head, trying to catch the tip of his long thick prick between my hungry lips. “Tell me how much you love sucking cock, you little whore.”

“I love sucking cock.” I breathed, finally getting it and bathing the crown with my tongue. I took him as deep as I could, until my mouth was full and I loved it.

Jeremy grabbed me by the hair and lifted me off his cock. “Are you my slut, Jenny?”

“Y-Yes” I whispered.

“Whose mouth is this?” He hooked a thumb between my lips and pulled my head painfully.

“Y-yours…your mouth.”

“And whose cunt is that between your stumps, bitch?”

“It’s yours…your cunt…Master.” I added and I was rewarded when he pulled my mouth back down.

“Just remember that Jenny. You’re mine now, forever. You understand?” He stroked my face with his finger, spreading my tears over my cheeks as I sucked.

“Mmmmmppphh…” Was the only sound I could make.

It was hard sucking Jeremy’s cock like that though, doing reverse crunches. I had no arms to push with and all the effort came from my stomach and back muscles. I was sweating and getting tired from the effort.

“Need help, bitch?” Jeremy laughed and took my head in his hands, moving my face up and down while he fucked my mouth. “Open that throat, Jenny. Come on…open her up for my cock, baby.”

I was gagging and choking but Jeremy kept forcing until finally he caught my throat at the right moment and the head popped in, sliding deep so that my face was pressed against the dark tickling thatch of his pubic hair.

“Ahhhh…fuck yeah!” he held me there and then let me up, coughing and sputtering. A flood of saliva and his precum washed down around his dick. “Good girl, Jenny. Do it again.” He repeated this over and over until I learned how to relax and take him in my throat anytime I wanted…or he wanted. He throat fucked me for 10 minutes and it made me sore and tender and I wondered how much longer it could go on when he pulled me to his body hard and started pumping his hot cum straight into my tummy.

When he finished, Jeremy lifted me carefully, rolling me over onto my back while I drank the air around us. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He reached for the box of Kleenex on my nightstand and wiped at my mouth. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll get that pizza, okay?” Jeremy smiled and kissed me. Softly at first and then deeply, taking me into his arms and making love to me through our mouths.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. Part of me hated him, hated his easy violation of my body. Another part of me seemed to glow with an invisible light, a warmth radiating through me. Someone liked me, found me attractive somehow, and had kissed me. The only thing that seemed to matter was the kiss at the end. Everything else, the humiliation and discomfort, the abuse and cruelty, it didn’t matter after that kiss. He’d broken me and then, as if by magic, rebuilt me.

Jeremy gave me a sponge bath and my uncertainty returned, my frustration. I’d have covered myself, if it had been possible. I closed my eyes, trying to escape from him.

“Open your eyes.” He said, washing my shoulders, and I shuddered when I felt him lifting the stump of my left arm so he could wash beneath it.

I kept them closed, wondering how he could bear to look at me. That was the thing that bothered me, for just a moment I’d felt complete, and now…I couldn’t stand to see him seeing me, as I really was. But I couldn’t express that, even to a man who had seen every part of me, who had touched me, made love to me. Instead I spoke of other things.

“You hurt me.” I whispered. I could feel the warmth lingering in my bruised flesh where Jeremy had whipped me.

“Yes.” He agreed. “I did hurt you, Jenny.”

"You..." I paused looking for the right words. "You didn't have to, you know." I looked at him. "I-I would have...done it anyway..." I blushed as I said that, feeling unhappy with myself suddenly. Firstly for not resisting more, as if I could have, but you know what I mean. And secondly for admitting to myself, and to Jeremy, that I'd liked it.

"But then you wouldn't have done the sit-ups." He chuckled. "Physical therapy is...like that. The carrot and the stick, Jenny, and sometimes, when you're lucky, the stick is the carrot."

I widened my eyes at him then. "Is that what I am? Lucky?" I snorted. "Look at me! I can't even wash my face."

"You're beautiful Jenny and it has nothing to do with washing your face. It doesn't matter about your arms and legs, your tits, your ass...none of that. You're seeing yourself through other people's eyes, Jen." He caressed my cheek gently, staring into my eyes. "See yourself through my eyes."

I could see his emotion, his genuine sincerity shining in his gaze, bu I looked away. Unable to bear it. I didn't want him to look at me that way. It was...wrong. I didn't deserve it and I couldn't deal with it. I'd seen myself and I knew I was grotesque now, ugly and obscene. People would look at me and stare, or worse - look away.

We were quiet for a minute before he turned me over, so I lay on my stomach with my head turned away from him. I could feel his gentle hands on my ass, tracing the welts he’d left with his belt. I expected him to do something more, to touch me in a more personal way. To take me again, like he’d done earlier. I wanted it, though I couldn’t have admitted such a thing aloud. I could only close my eyes, my body tense with hopeful expectation.

Jeremy, if he was aware of my desire, ignored it. He finished washing me, and then we dressed. First himself and then me, doing it slowly as if finding some hidden pleasure in doing for me what I could not. I hadn’t been comfortable wearing my old clothes, I’d avoided even looking at them, spending the majority of my time in pajamas, or a bathrobe. I felt my eyes growing damp as I looked down at myself, propped up now, against the headboard of my bed like a stuffed animal.

The arms of my sweater hung there, useless and empty. The hem of my skirt had once been just above my knees, and now, it just lay there, like a child’s blanket. “I can’t go.” I said and swallowed hard. I dropped my chin down, so that my tears fell onto my breasts, making small dark stains on my sweater.

“Yes you can.” Jeremy replied, and his tone was simple, matter of fact. He picked me up, even as I protested loudly, and set me in my chair. “You can go and you will go.”

“No!” I stared at him. “I don’t want to! I changed my mind!”

“Sorry.” He shrugged and started pushing me across my apartment.

“Jeremy! Stop! No!” I swore at him. “You bastard! Stop it!”

To my surprise, Jeremy did stop. “You know what your problem is?” He asked me, stepping around so he was in front of me.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do know what my problem is!” I spat back at him. “Do you?”

He grinned. “Yeah.” He pushed me back into my bedroom suddenly. “So let’s do something about it!”

“What?” I turned my head, looking up at him without a clue. “What are you talking about?”

“Your tits.” He smiled as he unbuckled me from the chair and picked me up. “Your problem is your tits, Jen.”

“What are you talking about?” I looked at him incredulously. “My tits are perfect.”

“Exactly. They make you feel…inadequate…embarrassed about your arms and legs.” Jeremy explained, as if that almost made sense.

“I don’t have any arms or legs!” I lay on the bed again as Jeremy unbuttoned my sweater. “What are you doing?”

He stared at my ripe full breasts, beautiful and unmarred. My long pink nipples hardening slightly under his gaze and Jeremy licked his lips. He reached under my skirt, pulling down my panties and wadding them up.

“I’m gagging you.” He laughed, pushing my panties in my mouth for the second time that evening. “Because those tits need to be punished!”

"Mmmnnnpph!" I wriggled and shook my head violently.

"Carrot and the stick, Jen." Jeremy said softly. "Physical therapy, in my experience, is 30 percent physical, 30 percent mental, and 30 percent emotional. That last ten percent?" He smiled, looping his belt in his hand. "That's just pain."

I watched with terror as he brought that supple tongue of leather down in a slow, graceful arc. Everything was slower, it seemed, time conspired with fear, transforming anticipation into an art form. My last thought, just before the pain lanced across my skin was that I didn't deserve this. But by then, it was too late and I realized that Jeremy was wrong...That last ten percent? That's just love.

end
rache696@yahoo.com

There was a lot more to this, both already written and intended. But I looked for a place to close it and a title, which often comes last for me, and the very last sentences: "But by then...That's just love." came into my head and the title seemed obvious. So I ended it there.

Largely it is the same old story of a girl falling in love with her torturer. The story of my life. I wrote what I did way back when, perhaps 2002? (you can tell by my reference to Christopher Reeves) When I needed to rationalize my own relationships and why I love the man I do. There is a lot of my husband in Jeremy, as I understood him then, much more than I am in Jenny...Or maybe I'm lying about that. I have certainly felt amputated in the past, from my friends and family, from society, which is the real injury to Jenny - arms and legs being my poor attempt at a metaphor. She's vulnerable physically, of course, but it's the emotional vulnerability that is important, that she is being 'rehabilitated' from. Did anyone get that deep into it? Nah. Who cares. Just another weird amp story from rache, take it at face value.

The point is I don't need to finish it, the BDSM scenes I had written were stereotypical and boring and the emotional content was repetitive and better expressed in other things I've written since. I post what I have here largely because I think the conversations are good. I always like my conversations, I steal them from life. So, there we are. Thanks. -rr