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Freaky Honeymoon - Chapter 12
It was nearly two in the morning by the time Harold, no longer Mr. Featherstone, dropped her off at her darkened apartment. He had a sheaf of nude pictures she allowed him to take, some of them for his own private collection. The ones of her showing the pink, her fingers holding her cunt lips wide, were marked private, along with those showing her chocolate starfish neatly displayed as her hands pulled her butt cheeks apart to their limit. In exchange she had a hundred quid note in her purse for her trouble this evening. He told her to consider the extra money as a tip for services rendered.
She entered her dark apartment and tiptoed into the bedroom to discover that Andrew had taken himself to another more welcoming bed for the evening. She had to blink back the tears, but after all she was a "working" girl holding down two jobs besides providing her immature husband with all the sex a man could want. That didn't help matters much. For just a moment she was tempted to call Angie just to hear her lies about Andrew not being with her. Then she worried that perhaps he was enjoying both Angie and Ruby, returned from the night's activities, flush with bank notes from the myriad customers they'd successfully solicited. She wound up crying herself to sleep in an empty bed.
Marsha had a series of dark dreams involving Harold, Andrew, Angie, Ruby and Dr. Cleaver. All revolved around her operation. She was naked and secured to the operating table with leather straps that made her think she had been trapped in a giant spider web. Assisting the doctor, whose face was partially masked, were two nurses dressed in thongs and bras made of some type of transparent material that showed their huge, shapely tits with areolas almost as large as tea saucers and nipples stiff as glass jutting at least two inches out from those dark areas. In contrast Marsha had twin bee stings that passed for breasts and soft pink nipples that looked like little mounds on slightly bigger mounds. Upon closer examination, the nurses turned out to be Ruby and Angie, both with professionally styled makeup that made them look far more beautiful than she did on her best day.
Standing next to the surgeon and holding forceps was her husband Andrew, with a frown on his handsome face. He said something to the masked surgeon and got a mumbling reply that he passed along to the two simpering nurses. One of them brought up what looked like an oxygen mask and placed it on Marsha's face. Dr. Cleaver nodded and Andrew used the forceps to grip his wife's nipple and pull it to its limit, raising the thin crepe-shaped tit as well. Marsha made some kind of noise, but the oxygen mask effectively muffled her complaint. It seems that the mask wasn't connected to the oxygen bottle, but that didn't seem to concern the nurses or the surgeon, who selected a scalpel and started cutting away the flesh attached to the pectoral muscle. Blood started to squirt out all over the place and the two nurses retreated to avoid getting any on their underwear. The surgeon started screaming for Harold to come to the operating table with the cauterizing machine.
Mr. Featherstone began burning away the blood and pieces of skin that surrounded what used to be her tit. The stink was horrible and the nurses fled, gagging and coughing as they escaped the room. The only people remaining in the operating theater besides Marsha, were her husband, Harold and the surgeon, who by now was more than a bit upset with the way things had gone. He threw down his bloody scalpel and stalked away, following the path the nurses had already taken. Harold leaned over and mouthed the words, "It's all your fault. You owe me five thousand quid and I'll take it out in trade or your bum if that's what it takes." Suddenly Marsha sat bolt upright, hyperventilating and totally frightened by this nightmare. It took a few minutes for her to recover her equilibrium and go back to sleep.
Once more she found herself strapped down to the operating table. She felt strange, her chest hurt and it took a great deal of effort for her to draw a proper breath. The surgeon had removed his mask and was smiling down at her. She couldn't help but notice that his gown was spotted with fresh blood. In the background she could make out two other men, but they were masked.
"How do you feel my lass? Those new bolt-ons look smashing! I'm amazed you had enough skin to handle a 40E augmentation, not to mention all the blood you lost while I was carving you up. Now you just relax and wait until my nurses get back so we can finish the job properly."
Marsha was delighted and at the same time astonished at the miracle he had managed to perform. She could hardly wait to show them off to her husband and make those nurses envious of her new squeezies. No sooner had that thought arrived, then two nurses wearing white, high heels, white hose and matching garter belts came towards the operating table, their big tits stretching the flimsy material of their white, lacy bras and the matching thongs captured between their fat cunt lips. The surgeon grinned at the sight and observed that one of them still had some blood on her belly, but it looked kind of cute, so she shouldn't worry about it. Besides there was going to be lots more blood when they started the vaginal rejuvenation procedure.
"What is he talking about? My quim is still tight!. After all, I'm only nineteen and haven't been hooking for more than a couple of months."
"Do we have any happy gas left? This little operation can be a bitch, and it looks like what we gave our patient earlier is beginning to wear off."
The older nurse, who looked all of twenty-five and sported a set of awesome tits, probably done by the one doing her boobs, simpered and shook her empty head, saying:
"Don't you remember? We were all taking hits of the happy gas during the first operation and having such a great time that we used it all up"
The surgeon chuckled and nodded his head.
"Too bad, you better double check the restraints. Our patient is definitely not going to like some of the things we have to do to get that sloppy quim of hers back into shape."
Marsha began to panic, but was unable to make any headway in either freeing herself from the straps that held her to the operating table, or convincing the surgeon that her quim was nice and tight. Then to her dismay, the other nurse, who looked too young to be assisting at such operations, reached down and jammed her fist into Marsha's pussy. She yelped from surprise rather than any discomfort, for there was none. Her quim fit snugly around the teenager's closed fist. "That's impossible!" she thought. Then the dripping fist was presented to her, as the nurse inquired if she wanted to lick off the pussy juice from it. Before Marsha could answer, the fist was pressed to her lips and she couldn't help but taste her own spendings, finding the fluid quite palatable.
"OK you two love birds. You can do all that once the operation is over, but for now I want Ruby to pay attention and make sure that the aspirator is on and working while I'm slicing up this whore's twat."
Marsha almost jumped out of her skin when she heard his words. Her new tits were beginning to have some feeling and what there was, scared her witless. The prospect of her quim being butchered like a side of beef did not sit well with her at all. Then she heard him start talking again, and she nearly ruptured herself trying to break free of the straps.
"Let's see, nurse Angie I want you to use those hemostats to keep her labia majora from leaking too much blood when I cut her there. Not them you dolt, her cunt lips! Now I want to slice away about half of those wrinkled flaps. God, she must have been on her back for twenty hours a day for plenty of years to have them deteriorate to this condition. Nurse Ruby, now get in there with your aspirator and soak up the blood that's about to flow. I hate this part of the operation, it's such a damned mess."
"Once that's done I'll cut the interior of her vagina from here to there and do some stitching to tighten that fuck tube so her customers can have some feeling when they fuck her. OK ladies, now let's get this done so I can make my golf date with Ms. Gotrocks. That old biddy may have a rebuilt pussy thanks to yours truly, but there's plenty of other stuff she needs to make her last another ten years. Now here we go and let's keep the amount of blood down to a minimum. Oh, remember the earplugs! This cow will probably make a lot of noise until she passes out from shock."
This time Marsha woke up screaming, her body shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. She was terrified and the thought of going back to sleep and having another nightmare was unacceptable. She got out of bed and put on her robe. Then she decided to have a cup of tea and perhaps call her husband, who she knew was at Angie's, probably taking turns doing her and Ruby until he couldn't get it up for them any longer. He wouldn't be having any nightmares afterward, that was for sure. She put on the kettle and saw it was nearly three in the morning. She thought better of calling Andrew; he'd probably hang up on her and come later he'd be socking her good for waking him up. He could really hurt a body when he got angry and she didn't want to see the surgeon with ugly bruises all over her naked body. That would certainly queer the deal for sure.
It wasn't until early afternoon that Andrew made an appearance, and he was distinctly out of sorts. Marsha decided to ignore his whereabouts last night, which proved to be a good move. It seems that Angie was rousted by the local law enforcement types and had to pay them half of what she had on her person in order to avoid being run-in for soliciting. Worse yet she had to go for a ride that took her to a deserted apartment where she had to service three constables, two of them using her arsehole without the benefit of any form of protection. She was in shock after this event and barely managed to hustle a few drunks who were more interested in blowjobs in the back of buildings than anything that demanded serious cash.
If that wasn't bad enough, Ruby also fell into grief with a customer who not only used her in every hole, but afterward robbed her, making her strip to the skin in his car so he could go through her clothing to find her money. He dumped her out on a country road after warning her that now he had her address, which wasn't true, and if she complained, he'd find her and do some nasty things to her face after he raped her a few times. The bloke that picked her up on the road afterward demanded some servicing for his trouble, but other than a blowjob, she got off with a whole skin.
Andrew was just getting a good dose of what it took to be a successful pimp. You needed protection or "understanding" from the local cops, and some muscle to take care of those who preyed on working girls. The more girls you had, the more muscle and protection you required. Of course if your girls were all in one place, then the costs went down a bit, but it wasn't a panacea. What Andrew wanted was to expand the types of services that were available to his market. It didn't take a genius to pimp a few girls and depend on their efforts to make a living. It took someone with imagination to develop a broad group of sex services all under his control. This required money, real money.What was killing Andrew was his lack of capital and those willing to bankroll his concept. Little did he know that he was a mere single contact away from the kind of backers he sought.
As a peace offering, Marsha offered her husband the one hundred quid note she 'd gotten from Harold Featherstone for services rendered. He was most appreciative, giving her a kiss that spoke volumes. Andrew was not the talkative type when it came to being affectionate. She knew that and took it as part of the package. Then she casually mentioned that her client had made contact with a very well known plastic surgeon who might take her case. She was quick to add that she'd be the one to provide whatever services he or Harold might require of her in exchange for new boobs that were big and shapely. Her husband was stunned at this revelation. His reaction was quite different from what she had anticipated. What little secret was he concealing from her?
(To be continued - jethro jodhpur)
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