Juliette The Super Tramp

                       Juliette The Super Tramp - Chapter 20

       Returning to the land of the living, my poor pussy was still throbbing from whatever the surgeon had done to it. I heard their voices discussing my fate and I didn't like the tone of the conversation. They were debating about the level of pain that I could accommodate based on my current weakened condition. Pincherton was all for pushing me to beyond my limits since he would have to clean up the mess one way or another. Lois on the other hand was all for allowing me to regain more strength so I could take a lot more pain before my body and mind broke down. Naturally I was in her corner even though she had betrayed me. As in most discussions such as this, a middle ground was finally established.

       I could hear them moving about the room and the low voice of the surgeon as he spoke to someone on the staff about providing him some assistance for a few hours. My ears pricked up when he mentioned "some minor surgery". He laughed at what the other party said and agreed that two nurses would be fine for his needs. Then I felt the cool hand of that traitorous doctor as it trailed over my brow and down the contours of my twisted face. She brushed my lips, and then separated them so she could run her fingernails across my teeth, tapping each as if counting them. I immediately had a terrible vision of some demented dentist drilling away as I screamed soundlessly, my tongue and vocal chords numbed.

       Without warning my poor cunt was once again assaulted by the surgeon. The flames of hell were reignited and burned furiously deep inside my throbbing, twitching twat. The pressure was intense and growing as I felt whatever it was moving purposefully toward my tilted cervix. The contact was an epic collision that made me sick to my stomach. This time the battering continued unabated, as if that force was trying to tear down the door to my birthing chamber that had never seen use. I willed myself to swallow my tongue to end this agony, but was denied by the gods. So this was pain without sex, what a horrible, impossible way to exist. Then the force was stilled and I thanked every deity I could remember.

       I drifted in and out of consciousness as the pressure returned and the attack resumed. In the background I could hear Lois cackling like some hag in a grade B horror movie. What she was saying between the screeches did not bode well for my health or welfare.

       "At the rate you're going, this bitch won't need a hysterectomy. It's hard to believe you could get your gloved fist that far up her cunt without splitting her open like a piece of rotten fruit, but from the looks of that bulging belly you're in the promised land. Can I have a turn when you're done ruining her uterus? I want to hear her scream when my fingernails rip open the lining of this depraved ingrate's cunt. With any kind of luck she'll get infected and then the fun will really begin. Suppose we cauterize that cesspool of a cunt from mouth to whatever's left of her uterus just to be on the safe side and get her ready for the real pain that follows. How does that sound?"

       Normally talk like that would have me juicing like a fountain, but not today. My entire horizon was fixed on making the pain go away, or at least masking it with some juicy orgasms. A brutal blow that felt as if it had burst my uterus made me wish for death. My mind was ready to desert me in my hour of need. Another triphammer of a blow finished me off for the moment. I retreated into darkness once more.

       I awoke to the sound of more voices, indicating that the two nurses had arrived to assist these two fiends in tormenting and torturing me to my limits and beyond. My assessment of the situation was not too far off the mark. I listened carefully out of curiosity, arguing that any knowledge might be sufficient to give me some type of edge later. This proved to be a false hope, but at the time it made sense. I felt like someone who had come in a bit late to a movie and was struggling to catch up on the plot development. Currently the group was discussing what type of stitching to use on certain portions of my anatomy. I had no idea what the numbers and type of material they were throwing around meant. Soon it became apparent that my cunt would be sewn shut with two different types of filament. One would be used on my inner cunt lips, the other on the outer ones.

       The discussion now addressed approaches to blocking my urethra without severely damaging the narrow connection to my bladder. They started to talk about "sounds" with a consensus that one with a tapered design would do fine. It could be inserted easily, but pulling it free would cause some degree of discomfort for the patient. When I heard my former friend insist that a larger size be used to enhance the experience upon withdrawal, I cringed and put another black mark by her name. Dr. Pincherton joined the conversation and suggested that the "sound" be lubricated with his special ointment to add to the patient's (that was me) discomfort before her bladder became full to the point that it was painful.

       There was a pause before I felt his long fingers pressing down on my bladder, which was rather full despite what I had been through this very day. My groan caught the attention of the group and soon I was being poked, prodded and pressed until my poor bladder could take no more and I involuntarily wet myself and was punished severely on the spot in front of the nurses who simpered and whispered to each other. I knew they were already thinking up all sorts of nasty things to do to me once I was at their mercy. In normal times I would have eagerly looked forward to the pleasure of their company. That was then, unfortunately this was now and I was terrified at the prospect.

       The nurses were sent to get an orderly to change my bedding, such as it was, and an enema with a double bag, the type used for large patients. I started to sweat at the prospect of being overfilled and kept that way for a long time while they did other bad things to my body. They did not disappoint me in the slightest. Two orderlies responded to the call for a bedding change and while the did, they took advantage of my vulnerability, egged on by the doctors who went out of their way to make it seem that it was my fault entirely and just another example of what a terrible patient I was. Reading between the lines they were welcome to do their best to make a better patient of me using techniques that were out of the box, if they knew what that meant. The way they were chuckling I was in for a lot of trouble starting this evening after hours. That proved to be a wrong impression.

       The doctor opened the manacles holding me to the bed so the orderlies could get busy. My wrists were cuffed behind my back and then I took my first spanking delivered by Dr. Pincherton who proved to have a heavy hand and knew just where to hit me. Prior to the surgery, a spanking wasn't even worth mentioning unless I was getting it from a spiked paddle or a loaded rubber hose that left deep bruises that hurt for weeks when done correctly. Now I was bawling like a baby after half a dozen good whacks with his gloved hand. I was astonished how much a few sharp slaps to the backs of my thighs could feel. First some tingling, then a sharpening of the pain and finally a sense of heat that remained after the spanking had stopped. One of the orderlies introduced my swollen backside to his heavy hand and the pain was intense coming right after Pincherton's gloved hand. I sobbed and kicked my legs like a little girl, which only made my spanking get harder and faster. This one was a real pro when it came to turning my bottom into a rainbow of colors and an ache that stayed with me for hours afterward.

       Lois now took her turn and enjoyed pinching the more colorful bruises from the previous spankings, giving me a guided tour of how my multicolored bottom had changed. She used her bare palm to spank me and did a very good job of it, which I might have appreciated in my other life. Lois also was the only one who managed to spank my pouting pussy as well. That did more than smart after all the other mauling it had taken. Finally the other orderly warmed my bottom and the backs of my legs with a steady rhythm and a heavy hand, making sure that I knew this was only a down payment of what I'd be getting after hours. You talk about timing; I had just been returned to my bed with fresh sheets and a warning that another episode would mean sleeping on the springs after my bottom had been turned to raw hamburger. In less than a minute later the other nurse returned with her prize, announcing that one of the storerooms contained a double bag enema that she liberated. She got a mock round of applause and a long drawn out moan from yours truly. The two orderlies left with a promise to visit me this evening once they got off their shift.

       Dr. Pincherton decided that my pussy should be sewed shut prior to my enema. I started to whimper after the first stitch was put into my still sensitive inner cunt lips. Lois laughed at my discomfort and asked if perhaps it might be better if they double stitched me. That received a quick approval and the nurse was instructed to do a very thorough job of it. I sobbed, pleaded, groaned and managed to squeeze a few tears from my stitched eye, to no avail. The nurse seemed to take the approach that I was some type of criminal that should be punished in any way possible. I don't know how many times she went too deep with the needle or pulled the double strength filament up at an angle in hopes of tearing the tender flesh she was sewing shut. I shuddered and sweat like a pig as she sewed that fleshy gate shut. Dr. Pincherton checked her work and pronounced it acceptable. I heaved a sigh of relief, but there still remained my outer cunt lips and they proved to be more of a challenge.

       They decided on a diamond pattern with two types of filament, a thick, heavy-duty thread on the outside and a smaller filament for the interior portion of my fat cunt lips. I counted every hole they made just to stay busy and sane. Even so I made enough movement and noise to be gagged and my body strapped down so the region they were doing would remain stationary. The pain was bad to start and gradually, after they got careless, the level of pain grew more intense. It would have been bad enough if they just started and worked until it was finished. Now after each grouping of stitches the doctors would evaluate them and in some cases have them redone, a process that was bloody and very painful. How strange to describe what I once loved as now something I feared. They on the other hand seemed to be dedicated to providing me with plenty of pain, rather than an efficient process. I'm sure that Dr. Pincherton would never stand still for such shoddy work in his operating room, if a paying customer were on the table.

       In normal times I would have become excited by the change of plans for sealing my naughty cunt. Instead I blubbered and shook my head from side to side when my doctors informed the nurses that the heavier thread should be used to complete the job of making me impervious when it came to satisfying the needs of orderlies, nurses and other members of the hospital staff. Bad enough to have to endure another round of pain, worse to imagine the anger that my unavailability would generate from those who planned to visit me during the night and early morning shifts. I began to wonder what type of punishment they would make me endure for not being cooperative. All sorts of fond memories bubbled up to the surface.

       Nurses were so inventive. What kind of enemas would they use to bloat my intestines to their limit, all the while with my anal passageway securely closed with one of those nasty but nice butt plugs? I'm sure my bladder would be backfilled with caustic liquids that burned away the lining along with my super sensitive urethra. Perhaps some hatpins or hypodermic needles would find those special nooks and crannies in a woman's body, making me scream soundlessly from the growing pain that soon would overwhelm my defenses and move me towards madness. My thoughts protected me from the pain associated with sewing my cunt shut, but not long enough. The pain was excruciating, and my mind quickly suffered an overload from the burst of pain that now intruded into my consciousness.

       No one seemed to notice my agonies since all were focused on the nurse doing the suturing. She had to take rest breaks, which was bad for me. Lois filled the gap with her little tricks of the trade, using her fingernails to rake my big tits from top to base, leaving a trail of bleeding flesh behind them. In my previous life I'd be begging her to go slower and deeper so I could squeeze every drop of pain from her activity. After a few up and down passes, she decided to turn me into a checkerboard, an odd-shaped one for sure, but her heart was in the right place.

       Dr. Pincherton let the cat out of the bag when he casually mentioned that nothing she could do would match what he was preparing once he got me back under the knife in his operating theater. This time I'd be awake and able to experience every drop of high-octane pain that he could wring from me as he flayed my big tits. If I were still able to endure further pain, a double mastectomy would follow. I failed to understand his comment that this was the first giant step in my genesis. My mind was still trying to deal with the concept of having my big tits sliced off while I was still conscious. The nurse once more took over her duties and the pain went off scale as she missed a few stitches and had to redo the area. It was then that my overloaded mind decreed some rest and so I retreated into darkness, still wondering what this genesis was all about.

       The party had gone on without me, which was just as well. My mind was so mixed up by now that any additional information or pain would have totally scrambled it. I was beginning to be very ambivalent about staying sane. There seemed to be few advantages and thousands of arguments for letting go, with me as its passenger, on a descent into complete madness, the ultimate answer for the injustices of the world. I smelled Lois before she spoke. She stunk of pussy juice, no on second thought it was cream, the kind that was churned in the cauldron of the cunt until it oozed like magma escaping from the bowels of the earth. She was having a marvelous time at my expense, and I hated her for it. If only there was someway to swap minds with her so she could inhabit my shell while I enjoyed being the good doctor.

       "Hello my dear troublemaker, glad to see you back among us. I've saved this little treat for your awakening. I do know just how much you once loved to experience pain. Here is a little something to bring back memories and possibly make you want to relive your previous strange existence."

       I had no inkling of what was in store, thanks to my eyes that had taken flight and made me understand only too well what life would be without them. Lois lacked certain characteristics that were needed to be a polished sadist. There was no build up before the surprise was revealed, no hints of its size, shape, materials of construction and the like. I had time for a couple of breaths, and then a massive wall of pain crashed down on me like an ocean wave. It felt as if I was pissing fire. The pain was so great I stopped breathing and prayed for death. There was a roaring in my skull and sparks were exploding to light up the darkness.

       Gradually I calmed down as the agony ended almost as quickly as it began. I took a deep breath and in the middle of exhaling, the rush of white-hot flame returned and nearly made me swallow my tongue. Lois had used the urethra plug, the one that tapered so that when withdrawn it felt as if my bladder had been ripped open. The thought of having one of the nurses settling down beside me in the dead of night and entertaining herself by seeing how many times she could pull and push the plug from my bladder was not something I could imagine. Lois had triumphed for now and we both knew it.

       "Are we having fun yet? Has the cat got your tongue? Well, don't you worry; let Dr. Lois do a little stitching together of those bee-stung lips and that nasty cat won't be able to get at your tongue any more."

       Her laughter made my blood run cold. I had unknowingly created a monster and it was capable of destroying or worse yet, turning me into its plaything. She put some kind of a metal clamp onto my lips to press them together. Then she pushed the needle through the top of my upper lip and threaded the filament down and through the bottom lip in one smooth motion. It was apparent that my doctor had done plenty of stitching during the early portion of her career, or perhaps she was an avid seamstress, something that I might be able to believe. Even as the thought flew through my mind, another stitch was completed and it barely hurt. I gave thanks for this merciful act.

                               (To be continued - lex ludite)