Dr. Winthrop Samuels Series

by Chris Bellows

  “I’m going to catch a cab. Bind her tightly. She has much training to endure. Remember not to touch.”

  ***

  Keeping Sunny incapacitated also has the effect of mandating chastity. Naughty fingers will not be playing with anything pink. Freud had theories about the female orgasm, vaginal versus clitoral, still controversial, still questioned. But I have dictated and Louise concurs, that Sunny will experience neither. Only the fornix probe will enter her... and do so quite carefully, avoiding all satiating contact with the labia and clitoris. Thus the contraction I forced from her in the tub, the curious response of the PC muscles, was probably felt as more of a spontaneous muscle spasm than pleasurable masturbation.

  Still, though ecstasy is minimized, Sunny feels the relaxing afterglow of my manipulation... as if she has had a full orgasm. And that is my intent, to bring forth hormonal release which will flood her system with endorphins and calm muscles which I have irritated and caused to cramp.

  Friday evening is a repeat of Thursday, Louise leaving for the evening shift with Sunny well bound and awaiting my release, bath, massage, and soothing examination to follow. I do not use my probe, leaving the manipulation of her fornix to random occasions.

  The evening concludes in practicing her walk. Remaining cumbersome, I note that Sunny better avoids the sudden cramps, stepping such that her impinged gluteus maximus muscles do not suddenly contract.

  “Good girl,” I commend.

  There is still the tight Achilles tendons to deal with and that will require time. Sunny remains on her toes.

  Saturday I arrive in the late morning. Louise greets me and announces that shopping is required along with other mundane chores.

  “Sunny needs to be shaved. She’s had her morning enema.”

  Leash tied to a radiator, elbows bound, ankles tethered, Sunny looks up bashfully from the kitchen floor. I can hear her beseeching voice as Louise fills her time and again, her bowels aching with Louise’s high colonics, those which we as interns enjoyed ordering for troublesome patients.

  Louise departs. I pick up Sunny and place her supine on the kitchen table. I remove the double ‘D’ clamp from her elbows for comfort and find that a cord running from right elbow, under the table and connecting to left elbow will suffice in assuring minimal mischief.

  “Spread for me.”

  I am sure Louise left the task for me knowing that it’s most humiliating for a woman to so clinically expose her charms to the male. Sure enough, Sunny blushes as her thighs part, her feet and calves drape off the sides of the table.

  The bathroom yields razor and shaving lotion. I have fun slowly lathering Sunny’s pubes.

  “Must you?” her voice now meek with the many days of my governance.

  “Yes. Come now, Sunny, you know that deep within you enjoy this. And you wouldn’t deny a man a view of such wondrous feminine flesh.”

  It is indeed wondrous. Perfectly symmetrical, plump outer labia part to reveal the moist inner pink. I reach above her slit and press the foam covered skin upwards with my thumb. The hood retracts and a sizable clitoris pops into view. I smile in noting its firmness. She protests but she enjoys.

  “When will you hang me?” Sunny inquires, her voice a curious combination of concern and expectation.

  “In time. When I judge you have acclimated to the grommets and can control the cramping. I’m going to hang you for long periods, Sunny. The pain will be slow... as you want it... as I prefer it. Sudden muscle cramps will preclude lengthy torment.”

  I begin to scythe with the razor. Though her pubic hair is wispy and only stubble is found, the sense of nakedness there is important. And to have it denudated by a male hand is quite embarrassing.

  “You will be with me... while I hang?”

  “Me, Louise... perhaps others.”

  “Others?” Sunny’s tone one of true concern.

  “Of course. It will increase the level of humiliation. You’re to be exhibited. I insist. I want others to see my work...my hobby... witness your complete degradation. Think of how stimulating it will be for you.”

  I speak as I glide the razor, occasionally reaching to the sink for rinsing. Sunny squirms as I peer quite closely and smooth my finger around her mons in checking for anything that has escaped my attention. She is glabrous and squirms anew as I rinse with a warm towel.

  “Corset time. I want to see if you can be walked without the bath and massage beforehand. Then you can suck on my penis.”

  ***

  Sunday, we benefit from Louise’s shopping trip.

  I arrive mid morning to see a pair of high heeled shoes prominently displayed on the kitchen table. As I examine the footwear, I hear moans in the bathroom, diverting my attention. I smile.

  Gothic in design, the shoes are steel with four inch spikes. Such taper to noteworthy points and make walking a balancing act. However, there are long black leather straps which I imagine encircle the ankles and calves, essentially offering much support. Properly entwined and secured, the straps serve to make the shoes and the wearer one.

  Clever of Louise, since Sunny has yet to straighten her feet, high heeled shoes make it possible to walk her outdoors.

  Another moan from the bathroom and I move to inspect, bringing the shoes. As expected, Louise has Sunny secured in the tub, kneeling, head low, buttocks high, anus stuffed, a large enema bag hanging from a stanchion. Poor Sunny is enduring another cleansing. Louise calmly sits reading the Sunday paper as Sunny’s bowels slowly fill. Years ago, I recall a rather belligerent young patient being subjected to Louise’s supervision for many hours. His behavior improved greatly thereafter. The so termed three ‘H’ treatment... high, hot and a hell of a lot... served to temper the lad’s comportment.

  A leashed Sunny manages to glance at me. Her forlorn look brings a smile to my face. The masochist finds this form of discomfort to be intolerable... and that makes Louise happy, I am sure.

  “Good morning, ladies.”

  Louise looks up from the paper and returns my greeting.

  “Another twenty minutes, then she’s yours. It’s her third rinse. Slow and massive.”

  “Good idea with the shoes,” I compliment in holding up the weighty steel.

  “Popular with the crowd at Spankers,” Louise nods. “The straps have loops which can be locked.”

  Indeed, I had not noticed that both pairs of straps end with a circle of steel. Therefore after crisscrossing the calves a tiny padlock will offer security, the wearer forced to stand and/or walk as desired.

  “You have not been walked outdoors in days, Sunny. It’s a pleasant Sunday.”

  October has brought cool nights. But a cloudless sky will warm the air by the time Louise completes the enemas. I retreat to Sunny’s closet. I know my minx friend will have something slinky, brief and revealing to offer as a form of covering. And sure enough there hangs a cocktail dress! Short. Skin tight. Quite the alluring sight for a Sunday walk.

  “Kiss my hand... beg,” words emanating from the bathroom.

  Louise continues to instill discipline, offering Sunny a final respite from her swelling belly. Though I don’t hear her beseeching words in reply, I do hear the whoosh of water as the enema nozzle is finally deflated, slipped away and Sunny’s bowels empty with force.

  I remove the dress, which vivid red and short. I can only imagine where my little toy would wear such a garment. Such a temptress.

  I return to the bathroom to watch as my nurse friend finishes with her patient, rinsing away remnants of the enema, drying then releasing the many grommets securing Sunny within the tub.

  “You need to be walked, Sunny. More exercise, more practice learning to control those impinged muscles and tendons.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She remains kneeling as I thread the short corset cord, beginning at the neck collar, through the eight pairs of spinal grommets then the buttock grommets. I must leave the cord loose for now. Tying it off brings rigidity.

  With Sun
ny remaining kneeling, Louise shows me how to adorn the feet with the heavy steel shoes. The two straps wrap about the ankles and Louise threads them through the Achilles heel grommets for good measure. Then she circles the calves, crisscrossing to just below the knees. There she pulls tightly and snaps on a small padlock, locking the two straps together to assure Sunny, absent cutting with scissors or knife, cannot separate herself from her bizarre footwear.

  Right foot then left, in finishing I lift Sunny from the tub, noticing that the weight of the shoes requires somewhat more effort.

  She stands perched on the extremely high heels, the straps offering enough support to balance herself. The angle of her feet is ideal, relieving the legs of the stress brought by the Achilles heel grommets. Thus, though remaining standing as if on toes, the footwear offers mobility outdoors.

  I present the slinky dress.

  “Just the thing to wear while perambulating through your neighborhood.”

  A dismayed Sunny knows to offer her hands and arms so I can slip on the short dress. It appears to be more of a child’s sleepwear than a garment for adult social functions. Pulling over her head and down, the thin fabric outlines her breasts most enticingly. And I am amused to note that the bulges of the spinal grommets are most evident.

  “Perfect.

  “Wherever you intended to wear such a thing, Sunny, it is of no matter now. Such naughtiness!” I scold.

  I fold the lower hem up to her waist and work to tie off the corset cord, pulling vigorously, bringing into alignment the spinal grommets and tensioning the buttock grommets. Though I know I am stressing the glutei, Sunny has learned to control what otherwise would be painful cramping. The taut corset cord, unseen when I fold the hem down, forces such a deliciously rigid posture. Sunny cannot bend, less she further stress her buttock grommets. And as noted the spinal grommets force her to thrust forward those tantalizing mammary glands, so sizable on such an otherwise petite frame.

  Next I clip together her elbows and add the nose leash. I note that Louise smiles in satisfaction.

  “So lovely, so well controlled,” she notes.

  “Come, Sunny. A little walk.”

  I am amused to hear a notable clank as the steel shoes noisily greet the thick worn wooden floor. Oh, this is divine. The noise, the brief garment, the outlandish color, no passerby will miss our little parade. And though all feminine charms are covered, the thin fabric clings, leaving little to the imagination. The corset cord is unnoticeable but bumps evidence the many grommets.

  “Please no,” Sunny protests. “Not like this.”

  “I will walk you as I please, Sunny.”

  My hand reaches beneath the dress to her mons. I splay the labia majora, my fingers plunging within the fleshy folds. She is wet of course, her psyche reveling in humiliation despite the verbal protestations.

  I present my moist fingers to Louise. She smirks, shaking her head.

  “She still does not fully understand herself,” Louise notes.

  I nod in agreement.

  Twice around the loft for practice, Sunny struggles to stay balanced. The pace is slow, each step clunking the wooden floor, her need to control the stressed muscles paramount. An ill timed move will bring the agony of intense cramps. Finally I draw her to the elevators and press the call button. The motor grinds. I am delighted to see Sunny close her eyes in shame.

  ***

  Though I keep our walk local, the steel hitting the concrete sidewalk draws attention. Despite the seclusion, Sunny blushes. Tears form and I find I must offer encouraging words as Sunny struggles to concentrate.

  “You look very pretty, Sunny. Your breasts have never been better shown... short of walking you nude. And you’re stepping so nicely, feeling the control of the grommets and the leash. It’s what a girl like you wants... covets... the delight of sensing another’s governance.”

  “Please, sir. No more.”

  “You want to go home? On such a nice day.”

  She nods, jostling the leash.

  “I don’t want to be seen like this.”

  “But it so excites you, Sunny. You want to be displayed, exhibited. The humiliation brings such arousal.”

  While I speak, I guide the psychologically wounded girl back to her Ludlow Street loft. We have not made direct contact with pedestrians. But there have been long stares from those across the street... probably neighbors since there is little retail trade or commercial activity on Sunday.

  “I will suck your penis,” Sunny amusingly offers as an inducement.

  I laugh.

  “You don’t have to offer, Sunny. You’ll so serve at my whim.”

  Though disappointed with Sunny’s bashfulness, I remind myself that arroycoo is the intended result of my many weeks of effort. And ironically, if Sunny thinks such will be furtively executed, the slow torment offered in seclusion, she is wrong.

  I have purchased a set of wheels for the framework. Easily attached to the corners of the seven by three steel fabrication, Sunny’s protestations, however heartrendingly meek and beseeching, will be for naught when I decide to place her in suspension.

  As we near the building entrance, I move to walk to her side. A hand finds her finely shaped buttocks. Pertly shaped by the grommets I assess as my leash hand assures she keeps stepping. Firm, the impinged muscles strain, yet Sunny has learned to control without triggering spasms. An excellent result, for in suspending her, such concentration and control will be a challenge.

  I am cheered to see for the first time that a neighbor enters the building lobby just before us. Sunny slows in an attempt to avoid the woman. The conniving minx knows that delay will cause us to miss the elevator.

  That will not do. I pull with zeal.

  “Come, Sunny. I will introduce you.”

  “Please no, not like this.”

  “You prefer when naked? I can invite her to your loft, strip you and explain to the woman all about her aberrant neighbor Sunny Sudenskaya. Do so as you suck my penis.”

  Sunny glumly follows the leash knowing she cannot resist. Our timing proves to be sufficient. The creaking door announces our approach and the neighbor turns to observe our entrance.

  A woman nearing fifty, she is tall and though not plump, broad in stature. Hair somewhat graying she shows no sign of surprise as I lead and my leashed minx follows. The tight garment, gaudily red, the clunking shoes, the woman peers down and even the small padlocks securing the straps do not elicit a reaction of disapproval.

  This could be fortuitous.

  I pull Sunny adjacent as the elevator grinds to greet us.

  “New York certainly offers opportunities, doesn’t it? Where else can you walk a slut on a leash and not earn the revulsion of your neighbors,” the woman pleasantly offers in breaking the ice.

  She smiles warmly. Sunny looks down in shame.

  “Yes, she is a slut. The girl sucked her way across Europe. Quite an accomplished fellatrix,” I respond in prompting further discourse.

  “A good reason to keep her leashed,” the woman snickers.

  The elevator arrives. I help in parting the heavy doors. The woman insists we enter first. I lead, Sunny follows, the woman steps in last. By rote Sunny struggles to kneel, she cannot bend at the waist thus I must assist. Well trained, she ignores the woman’s presence in knowing how I want her to ride... at my feet.

  “Yes, a slut but well tamed. Whatever is on her back?”

  As described the tight garment reveals the many bumps of the grommets. Eight pair plus those perched atop her buttocks.

  “I have her corseted. Rather strict, but the posture is greatly improved and the sense of complete control is welcomed by a girl of her ilk.”

  The neck collar shows and the woman notes the cord disappearing at the neckline. I cannot resist leaning down and grasping the lower hem... at the back. Sunny shuts her eyes in horror as I fold upwards and reveal her grommeted cheeks, the opposing end of the corset cord tightly tied to keep constant tension on the
glutei and align the spinal grommets.

  The woman stares, but not in shock or fright. It is a look of true inquisitiveness and examination.

  “Yes, strict,” she remarks in agreement. “Just as a girl like her deserves.”

  “Lean forward, Sunny, show the woman how the grommets work.”

  “I cannot, sir. It hurts.”

  “Lean! Tighten the corset cord.”

  She obeys of course. Despite her pleas, the pain oddly welcomed by a deviant mind. Sunny’s psyche senses that punishment is needed. Retribution for exposing herself to the unknown woman.

  The cord tightens and further stresses the gluteus maximus muscles. There comes the expected spasms and cramping. Sunny grimaces. The woman smiles.

  “The tramp seems to enjoy pain. She’s wet.”

  Yes the woman has quite the observant eye, spying a trickle of feminine essence on the inner thigh... emanating from the sopping wet quim of my leashed plaything. Sunny shudders in intense shame.

  The elevator stops on the fourth floor.

  “I get off here. Do let me know when you walk her again.”

  Before working the elevator doors, I reach down and pull the cocktail dress, peeling upwards and also righting Sunny so she returns to kneeling upright. My quick handiwork fully exposes those firm upstanding breasts, the thin garment gathered at her shoulders. The woman turns and smiles most wickedly, watching my nearly naked plaything as I labor to open the heavy doors. She then steps off and mockingly waves as Sunny kneels in tears of shame.

  “I am Mrs. Anderson.”

  “This is Sunny,” refraining from identifying myself.

  I close the doors with deliberation as Mrs. Anderson clucks her tongue.

  ***

  Though several days pass and Sunny is walked both indoors and out, I note that without the high heels she cannot walk completely normally. The Achilles heel grommets will not permit full flexibility of the tendons and therefore it is painfully impossible for Sunny to straighten her feet. Thus when led about the loft naked and leashed, she remains somewhat on toes... truly appearing as a ballerina as she prances about.

  Outdoors she wears her clunky shoes, heels high, perching her on toes and relieving the tightness of the soleus and gastrocnemius muscles.