Posted by Ripper X on August 06, 2003 at 21:55:00:
Howdy Gentle Reader
I'm not sure how far in I'm going to post this tale, it starts out REALLY strong, but I think that the story deteriorates towards the ending. But right now I'm banking on the fact because I spent all day formatting this HUGE beast just so I knew how to fucking number the god damned thing is why I started to dislike it towards the end, but time will tell.
This tale is nice and Pulpy! With abandoned insane asylums, Sadistic Nurses, and devilish revenge. The message of this story is what truly sets this tale apart, the Ravings of a lunatic that will haunt your soul for a very long time.
Enjoy!
-RIP
MEMORIES
They said she had it all in the palm of her hands. Youth, beauty, intelligence, style and an ambition to win that made all else seem non-existent. She was the perfect driven athlete. Up before dawn for the ritual stretching and endurance exercises to keep her perfect body in perfect form. Then college classes lasting most of the day where she kept her perfect 4.0 grade point average. And again, for the rest of the day and a good part of the evening, she practiced long and hard on her perfect gymnastic routine for the up and coming Olympics.
She gave all of them her very best effort, the floor exercise, the uneven parallel bars and the vault. All three requiring intense concentration for perfect execution, because within each was that one element of danger. That one essential sequence that if preformed correctly, would make her a gold medal winner. And if not, . . .
Then it happened. A dip in her concentration, a lost grip and a spotter who was not paying attention when she should have.
They all came running, the other athletes, the coaches, the paramedics, the hospital. They were all there in a flash to help her, the driven athlete and the next gold medal winner.
And they all told her, promised her even, that she was going to be as good as new and not to give up on her Olympic dream. But they all lied, except the doctors. They told her the truth, even though she didn't want to hear it.
Then came the finger pointers, the accusations, the experts, the lawyers, the courts and finally the judgement. In the end she was a very rich young woman in a wheel chair. And the spotter, well, those in the know said it was a terrible accident and not her fault. So the spotter kept her job with the college. She was a tiny bit mournful deep in her heart, but in the end nothing changed for her.
But for the one who had it all in the palm of her hands, she tried. She dropped out of college to devote all her energies into making herself whole again. More doctors, more hope and more disappointment. When she was at the end of her rope, she called me.
By some, I have been called a miracle worker. But not in any religious connection that is. I just get results where most people have failed. Nor do I have a 100% successful rate either. Just enough to pay the bills and put a little away for a rainy day. After all, a girl has to look out for herself too you know.
Now don't jump to conclusions. I am not one of those slight of hand con artists feasting on the broken lives of those in need, like some drooling vulture over a dying road kill. I am a professional! A certified nurse and physical therapist. And to those that I had the pleasure of dispensing my healing ways too, they gratefully called me their Angel of Mercy or a God send. And if truth be known, to those whom have not obtained such glorious, positive results, through no fault of my own, they have nick named me something different, like ‘Bitch' or ‘Bull Dyke' or the most dramatic ‘Sadistic Bitch in White'.
I kind of like that last one. Although I would prefer to be called Mistress Lisa. Mmmmmmm, I love to be called Mistress. It gets me all excited and aroused, especially between my . . . Now don't misunderstand me! I am not one of those Mistresses who is a kept woman for some rich guy cheating on his wife, because old wifee' won't give him head. No, no, no, I am certainly not one of those types. I am the other kind of Mistress, the dominant kind. The one with a superior caustic attitude and an ever present craving to be satisfied, sexually. And of course there is this little nagging desire of mine to be the instrument of another's, how shall I say it, distress? That is why I am a nurse and physical therapist. I love putting women, young beautiful sexy women I might add, through hell, as I bring them back slowly to their normal self again. All be it with a slightly submissive kink ingrained in their psyche now.
Oh, in case your wondering. I only work on women. Which given my lesbian predisposition is quite understandable, don't you think?
So, when I first received a call from Anna, the ruined athlete, I was all tickled pink. I simply love the feel of firm flesh under a soft smooth skin. Those powder puff girly girls are all right for awhile, but give me a woman who takes pride in the strength of her body and I am in erotic heaven. Of course, one can go too far in the other direction too. My goodness, those muscle bound women with bodies like men are one major turn off for me. I can't tell you how often I have turned down those types of neurotic obsessed women on a regular basis.
But I think what is at the heart of it all is the contrast. A mixture of the powder puff and the muscle bound. With not too much of the one, nor too little of the other. A young woman who is all so naturally feminine with soft flowing curves, angelic like features and beautiful supple breasts. While at the same time having some gamey meat to her bones that I can grab, squeeze and smack around if I want. And endurance? Yes! Staying power, for those long, physically draining, and best orgasm producing sessions that I have ever experienced in my entire life. Oh yes! If any woman had all that going for her, I dare say I would become her virtual slave, euphemistically speaking that is. And when I first met Anna, she was just that type of woman.
It seemed like love at first sight. Well, for me it was. We where both of the same generation with her being in her early twenties while I was in the later part of mine. She didn't wear any makeup that I could see, which made her flawless Mediterranean like features all that more intensely attractive to me. I on the other hand am forced to use only a little coloring. Just enough to give me that professional look that I must present to the general public at all times.
When we first met she was sitting in her wheel chair with her body completely covered in a comfortable sweat suit. And even with that shape shielding garment, I could see she was still keeping up with some limited amounted of exercising. I for one have never faltered in my daily routine of stretching and aerobics. It is exactly what I need to keep myself in top physical shape. Not to mention being a little more limber than most, for those close, tight, body to body situations that us professional health care givers sometimes find ourselves in with our patients.
I can remember that first day like it was yesterday. I presented myself to her with all due friendly professionalism at her home. And she returned it with a delightful, warm and inviting response, even to the point of offering me some tea and biscuits. Considering all that she had been through, especially at the fumbling hands of my fellow health care givers, I was amazed to see how pleasantly optimistic her disposition was. Right then and there I knew it was going to be a joy training her, I mean, making her physically better.
Our first meeting had it's usual get acquainted period with me informing her of my professional credentials and her giving me her medical history. After that, I politely told her to disrobe so I could do a preliminary physical examination of her present condition. She hesitated a little, which caused me to remind her that I was a state certified medical professional and that there was no need to feel embarrassed in my presence. And that was exactly what she was too, embarrassed, as her redden cheeks were an obvious testament to. But she soon began removing her clothes, once she turned away from me that is.
Her reluctance to disrobe in front of me was very suspicious. It indicated to me that she was not comfortable appearing nude before another woman. Now THAT was strange! Particularly for such a lovely young woman like Anna and given her long athletic background. She no doubt was required to change clothes in locker rooms teaming with other nude and semi-nude enticing nymphettes. And then there must have been a large number of older female coaches and doctors looking at her nude form while they remained dressed in front of her like I was. So removing her clothes in front of another female, a professional health care worker no less, shouldn't have been a problem, unless! To quote the immortal Shakespear, "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much".
There had to be something there, lurking deep inside of her. A curiosity, a desire, perhaps even a need? But at the same time something was telling her, commanding her, NO! A barrier, an impasse, a dilemma existed between what her body was aching for and what her mind was screaming at her that was wrong to do. That's when I knew I had my work cut out for me. Not only was Anna's body in serious need of my services, but so was her mind. She needed someone, an authority figure, to tell her it was not wrong to want what her mind told her she could not have. And at the same time she needed someone who had the talent and experience to give her body what it longingly craved for. She needed a mentor, a seductress, to set her lesbian desires free and to see to it that all of them were completely and totally satisfied. She needed ME!
Well, maybe not quite the "sadistic bitch in white" that she was about to receive. But then, as the French would say, "C'est la vie!"
I watched with hungry eyes as Anna removed her sweat suit. Her legs were not completely disabled. The doctors were able to make them functional again. She was just limited to the amount of time she could stand on them before the intense back pain returned her to the wheel chair. When she finally did remove her sweat suit she just stood there with her back to me in her virgin white bra and panties. She appeared as a beautiful immaculate vision to my eyes, a virginal icon in white undies. I had to take hold of a piece of furniture to steady myself, before I approached her, as a result of her loveliness on my awestruck famished soul.
I just stood there silently behind her, ogling her superb feminine shape. Once in awhile she would turn her head to the left, then to the right, trying to see what I might be doing behind her. Her coyness was such a turn on for me that I wanted to take her right then, and bury my salivating pussy all over her cute tongue licking face. But I maintained my professional repose. There was still a long way to go before that particular fantasy could come to fruit.
I still remembered her words to me this very day when she was the first to break the silence between us.
"Ok, I have taken off my sweats. Is this the way you want me?"
My god, that last sentence "Is this the way you want me?" And the way she said it, with so much childish innocence and gullibility. Frankly, I began to wonder if she wasn't some sort of con artist at heart. And if she wasn't the one trying to bait me, to seduce her, to take her, to fuck the living life out of her. But then, it was probably my own wishful thinking trying to crack the surface of my professional sobriety at the time. Either way, I had to play it by the book. For this was a critical point for me. I had to correctly set the basic framework of our relationship right off the bat. For what happened next would foretell what the future would be like between Anna and myself.
So I responded in a short direct matter of fact tone.
"No it is not."
I wanted my authority, my professionalism and my dominance to be the first thing that Anna was exposed to while she was exposing herself to me.
But at the same time, I didn't want to alienate her either. So I stepped up behind her, placed my hands gently on her strong shoulders and then continued with my reply to her. But this time in a compassionate, motherly kind of tone.
"I know how hard it is for you Anna. All that you have gone through, the pain, the disappointment. All those unfamiliar people looking at you as if you were nothing but a broken unfeeling object or a piece of butchered meat. And although I am a professional and must sometimes act accordingly, I am also a caring and feeling human being too. So I can empathize with your situation my dear. Exposing yourself like this, in your own home, and to a complete stranger, can be a most distressing time for anyone. But I am here for you Anna. To try my VERY best to make your life better, in all ways possible. And to do it in a manner that does not threaten your dignity as a human being or your sensuous femininity. So if you will Anna, please, let me make this easier for you. Will you do that for me dear? Let me help you?"
And that is how it begins with all my patients. I gain their trust by empathizing with their condition and then telling them that their well being is the center focus of my entire life. Nothing else is as important to me as they are. And everything that follows goes to support this main premise, be it emotional, mental or physical in nature. In short, I seduce them, inspire them, and basically make them fall in love with me. I cunningly play with their minds and emotions until they are virtually dependent on me for their entire well being. Once that happens, they really have no choice but to fall in love with me. I simply fuck with their minds and emotions until their bodies follow shortly behind, like little puppy dogs at the end of their Mistress's leash. And with some patients I have literally done just that.
So I eagerly waited for Anna's response. Her reply would determine if I had a chance with her or if this was just one of those rare times that I would not be successful and thus have to end this most promising relationship before it even got started. And then it came.
"Ummm, yes, sure Lisa. You can help me. Thank you."
Excellent! The first hurdle was successfully executed. Now came the test to see how fast I could take Anna down that path of complete subservience to my will.
"Very good Anna." I replied with a happy sound in my voice while I massaged her shoulders with my hands. Oh it felt so good to feel her firm flesh at the beginning of my domination of her.
"Now put your hands on top of that table! You can transfer some of your weight to your arms and ease the strain on your back and legs while I exam you."
Once more my voice was commanding and direct like a dominating Mistress should be. But this time I threw in a reason why I ordered her to do so. Again, it goes back to my main premise. As long as I give my patients the impression that what I am telling them to do is all for their own good, then they will follow my commands without question. Unless of course I hit upon a touchy area. Then I will follow it up with a tender and more caring explanation that pulls at their emotions and reminds them why I am there to begin with, which is to make them better. Either way, sooner or later, I will reach a point when an explanation is no longer needed. And THAT will mark a major turning point. For then they will be ready for more intimate commands and contact from me.
When Anna was in position I was ready for the next step. I thought about pushing it a bit by doing it first and then seeing if she would respond to it unfavorably. I was so eager to get Anna under my dominating thumb that I almost made just that kind of mistake. For it was still too early in our relationship to push things. Not to mention that the contract designating me as her primary health care giver, among other things, had yet to be signed. So I continued to play it by the rules and take it slowly, one small step at a time. A small investment now will pay off with big dividends in the future.
"Anna, I am going to remove your bra and panties now. I know you're a bit skittish about it, but I need to see you completely nude in order for my examination of you to be thorough and accurate. And that's what you want from me my dear. To be thorough and accurate, correct?"
I then began stroking her silky smooth black hair, as if we were very close caring friends. This was a big jump. First off, she could easily respond that she would do it herself. Which would tell me that I had a long way to go in acclimating her to my will. On the other hand, if she did allow me to remove her underwear, as well as to continue stroking her hair like I was, then I would have validated a very important first contact. Something that I could rapidly build upon in conquering her spirit and body in short order.
As I stood quietly behind her, petting her head, I could feel it inside of her. Her hesitation in thinking it over. Her inner conflict, between her mind and body. My continued hair petting was reinforcing her body's desire for more, and my clinical explanation of why I had to remove her intimate covering was slowly appeasing any arguments that her mind might have not to.
As the seconds clicked away I was wondering if I finally made that dire connection of acceptance and trust that I was so eagerly looking for with Anna. Then the answer came.
A gentle nodding of her head yes. She could not bring herself to say the words. For her mind was not to the point of full acceptance yet. But this time her body dominated her thoughts as she shook her head up and down several times with increasing vigor.
I leaned over to Anna's ear and whispered "Good Girl" and followed it with a light pat on her head. My GOD did that feel good! Calling a full grown woman a petite immature girl and then patting her on the head as if she was a precious little pet was simply awesome for me!
This was my first true act of dominating Anna and I felt it in all it's glory. My body shuddered with a chill and then it flashed white hot like an exploding star. The experience was like anticipating a delicious ice cream cone all day long during a scorching hot spell and then finally having that first long savory lick of that sweet melting cream. It's amazing how the most simple things in life can mean so much, at the right time.
Given Anna's current trusting state I knew I could take some liberties with her. Not that I would go wild with my increasing lust for her and rip her bra and panties clean off. Nor did I want to simply remove them as if they were a pair of dirty socks either.
I was very gentle when I slowly slid my fingers over her impressive back and under her bra strap. Then carefully, I unhooked the two clasps that held it together. I let the elastic guide my hands up and around Anna's back, feeling the warmth of her firm flesh in the process. More slowly now, I pushed the dangling white lingerie off the top of her powerful shoulders and onto her arms. I purposely did not pull the bra cups from her breasts, even though I was dying to see their full rich symmetry suspended in midair. The reason being was a simple one, embarrassment.
We are all creatures of habit. A good part of our life is in doing things that are routine and virtually automatic, like putting on and taking off our clothes. We may spend a certain amount of time in deciding what to wear, or how it looks on us, once we put it on, but rarely do we give a passing thought to the process of putting it on or taking it off. That is, unless one is a sleazy stripper. And that's how I wanted Anna to feel like in my presents.
By having her bra straps dangling over her arms and it's cups barely covering her breasts, I was forcing Anna to be aware of her half dressed condition. Her normal everyday routine was broken in mid-stride. And now she was forced to deal with the uneasiness of her half dressed, slutty situation. Oh she tried to use her hand to remove her bra completely or to hold it close to her body so the cups would not fall away. But as soon as I saw her hand leave the table I quickly ordered a commanding "NO!"
She stopped immediately and turned her head sharply in my direction. I momentarily delighted in her positive response to my authority. No doubt due to her athletic training where her coaches would command her to perform in a specific way. Any rebellion that she might have had was wiped out of her a long time ago by those pseudo Masters and Mistresses of sports. But again, we were in the early dawn of our "special" relationship so to calm her a bit I just explained to her that it would be easier for her to keep herself supported with two hands instead of one and the exam would only take a minute or so.
There was a noticeable uneasiness when she put her hand back on the table. Probably due to the fact that her bra was covering only one of her breasts instead of two now.
I'm afraid that my curiosity got the better of me at that point. For I quietly bent over at my waist and took what was supposed to be a brief glance at what her pendulous uncovered breast looked like.
Oh it was so beautiful! And it was just like the rest of her too, perfect! Not too big, not too small, and it literally made my mouth water. It hung out from her slightly muscular chest so sedately in a natural firm tear drop shape. There wasn't the least bit of flop or droop in it what-so-ever. My eyes began to squint as I looked long and hard at the area under her breast where the curvature of her breast met with her chest. I was looking for any semblance of scaring in that particular area. Her breast looked so superb that I wondered if the hand of man might have played a small part in it's exquisite artistic appearance. But all I could see was smooth taught seamless skin. Which meant her breasts had to be one hundred percent natural.
My eyes almost bugged out of my head, when I saw her excited nipple grow out long and hard. I can not tell you how long it's been, since I've seen such a perfectly matched set of nipples, aureolas and breasts before. They were all so beautiful in their shape, symmetry and proportion to one another. Usually what I find in my patients is that some part of them often offsets another, but not in Anna. I had no choice but to turn my gaze immediately away. I was so overwhelmed with what I saw that I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before instinct, like my curiosity, got the better of me and I would have Anna flat on the floor with me on top of her. My hands grasping, mauling and digging my fingers and nails into her perfect tender breasts while my tongue, lips and teeth were doing equally sweet sadistic things to her flawless perky nipples.
I let her stay like that, bent over, while I regained my sterile objective composure. I knew that for Anna the seconds were ticking away like hours, for her facial cheeks were beginning to take on that warm embarrassed glow about them. At that point it was time for me to act.
I slowly slipped my fingers between the elastic sides of her panties and the top of her round womanly hips. Immediately I could feel and see Anna's entire body go rigid. She knew what was about to happen, and because she had said nothing to stop me, I decided to take my time with removing her panties.
Oh I so love a nice ass, maybe more so than a nice pair of big fat tits. And Anna had one very fine derriere too. Her panties, like her bra, was your standard functional, no frills, white cotton. Since they lacked any erotic appeal for me I found it necessary to get my thrills in another way.
So I slowly began tugging and coaxing them down over her cheeks. There was more than enough room to do this part quite easily, but I wanted Anna's face to turn as red as possible. So I stretched them wide from her hips and did a little sea sawing back and forth across her plump rump as if they were a size too small. Just like a stripper would in order to get her drooling patrons to ogle her most impressive butt.
With each fraction of an inch lower I took them, I could see more and more of her delectable feminine tush. When the rim of her panties was down below the crack of her butt I could see a tan line begin to form. I have to tell you that I was a little surprised by what was being revealed to me. Here I thought Anna was your proverbial straight arrow. A young woman with a determined fixed interest in her studies and the Olympic dream. But what was gradually unfolding before my eyes was the light skinned shadow left from wearing a french cut bathing suit. Not quite the G-string up the crack of your ass type, but definitely cheek revealing. It was very hard for me not to giggle at the panoramic view that was being unveiled before my eyes. Nor was it easy for me to keep myself from grabbing a full chunk of scrumptious ass meat when I had that elastic strategically placed down under the clef of her butt either. All I could do was to take a step back and just stare at that gorgeous fleshy butt, framed so artistically by her pristine white panties.
My mind was racing as to what I could do with such a divine, well formed, virginal rear end like hers. I began going through all the utensils I could use on it once she became my willing slave. The paddles with their large unforgiving areas, as they smacked audibly hard against subtle feminine flesh. The sharp cracking noise of a leather crop as it made those cute rectangular red marks all over her sensitive burning cheeks. The floggers, big and small, with their multiple whip like tentacles making that heavy smacking sound across her entire butt or one quivering cheek in particular. And of course my hand. I began rubbing my fingers across my palm in anticipation of the expected sting I would feel from a good long spanking, knowing full well that whatever unpleasantness I felt would be magnified a hundred fold for poor sweet Anna. It took a great deal of will power on my part not to simply pinch her robust butt right then. But again, I maintained my professional stature as I stepped back up to Anna. I grabbed the sides of her panties once more whose front was still covering her secret garden, and then as fast as I could I yanked them straight down to just below her knees before letting them go with a smack.
I can still hear the sudden loud gasp that Anna made when I did that. It was so precious. It seemed to reflect both surprise and relief at the same time. Surprise, in it being totally unexpected, and relief, in that she too wanted me to do that to her. She longed for someone like me, an aggressive demanding and powerful sadistic lesbian, to take control like that and expose her sexy furry patch of intimate femininity in one quick jerk. Or at least that's how I interpreted it.
But I just could not believe my luck! Anna simply remained there, bent over, with her hands on the table and her arms straight as rails supporting her upper body. And not a single note of astonishment, anger, or even a simple questioning "why". Nothing at all echoed from those two sensuous pouting lips of her's.
But questions were forming in my mind though. Was her athletic training that intense and controlling so as to condition her to the will of practically any authority figure? Could she be that self-disciplined and focused in her life that once she agreed to do something, then there would be no turning back until it was accomplished, no matter what it was? Could she be in fact a true, deeply ingrained, latent submissive? A submissive who only now with my expert help, could safely let go and fully explore her deepest darkest desires?
The questions kept coming faster and faster, one after the other until I finally had to say 'ENOUGH' to myself. The questions and their answers were all superfluous. The only thing of importance that mattered was that Anna was remaining in the position I had put her in. That, and the strong feeling of positive expectations that was enveloping me right then. An expectancy that whatever the future was going to bring to both Anna and myself, it would be "I", not Anna, that would determine if we both experienced it or not.
But something very bizarre happened to me right after that. It happened while I was looking at Anna's lower back. For some strange reason I did not see a bent over nude slut with her panties bunched up around her knees and her bra hanging haphazardly from her arms and one tit. What I saw was a young beautiful woman with an undaunted desire to be whole again. To experience her life long dream of standing on the highest step with a gold medal resting upon her chest with pride. And a severely damaged back that would never allow her dream to come to pass.
I felt so sorry for her. The damage went beyond muscle and tendons, which was beyond my capabilities or for that matter anyone's ability, to put back as it once was. Oh I could make her better all right. I had no doubt about that. But to put her back like she was, like she wanted, like she longed for? There was just no way. Fate can be such a cruel mistress sometimes.
Oh my heart went out to the poor girl. Did you hear me say that? My HEART went out to her! My god, I was actually falling in love with her. I could not believe it, not then, not even now. How could such a thing happen to me? Never, I mean NEVER, did I have a deeply heartfelt emotional experience with any of my patients before. They were all simply about sex, domination and my desire to reek sadistic pleasure from their agonizing flesh. But with Anna it was different. It had to be something along the lines of love at first sight, uncontrollable infatuation, kismet, my ultimate fantasy coming true, or all of them at once.
Yea, that's it! It was all those things coming together at once. It had to be. I had always thought those moronic cliches and trite catchwords, were for fools and romantics, which I considered myself immune to. But never- the-less, it had to be true. The longer I stared at her disfigured back, the more compassion, empathy and yes, LOVE I was feeling for her. It was no longer just an act for me. To pretend that my patient was the well spring from which my life flowed so I could turn them into my very own masochistic sex slave. It was real! And I was hooked!
Oh it was all so ironic, me loving Anna. And that was so very, very bad too. Because one never hurts the one they love. I know, I know, more pathetic trite and romantic dribble, but it's still true.
Ha Ha Ha, the Sadistic Bitch in White was hit by Cupid's arrow and presto! She had became a moon struck romantic. All those ideas I had of tormenting Anna, making her suffer, painfully, at my hand. While at the same time gorging myself in one gut wrenching orgasm after another at her expense. They all went for naught now. Oh yes, FATE can be a cruel mistress indeed. But, Fate can be a delightful conniving bitch as well.