She writhed and panted as the quart of hot oil spread into her guts, provoking immediate reactions from the walls of her rectum and the coils of her entrails. When a second dose was forced in to join the first, her belly hung between her knees like the udder of a cow ready for the milking parlour. Cramps were tearing at her and she could hardly breathe for the pressure on her diaphragm. She felt stuffed to the gills and perspiration trickled down her back and under her arms, where the cuffs held them to her sides. When at last Greta helped her to mount the handy toilet, and unscrewed the valve that kept the sealing bulb inflated, she was panting and straining from the pressure in her belly, scarcely able to walk. With a whoosh the nozzle was ejected and a humiliating series of watery noises, interspersed by gaseous explosions, announced that the overloaded bowels were expelling their contents as fast as the dilating sphincter would permit.
It seemed to the crouching girl to go on forever, returning in a new paroxysm of flatulent energy just when she thought calm might be restored. When the last violent convulsions of her belly failed to discharge even a drop of degrading effluent, Greta finally relented and released her wrists, so that she could use the paper roll provided to restore some decency to her person. It was a very subdued and chastened young woman who finally rose, when ordered, and made her way to climb onto the chilly plastic surface of the examination table. No doubt Greta had had in mind the possibility of an involuntary discharge during her coming operations on the girl's tender body but she was also experienced enough to know that the girl would be made much more malleable by the administration of such a gross purge and the humiliation involved in discharging it. Her redheaded charge was the picture of docility as she climbed onto the table and lifted her legs to part them widely and place them in the stirrups provided. She was equally obedient when ordered to place her arms on the shaped horizontal shelves arranged for them and it was only a matter of moments to pull tight straps at knees and elbows, neck and waist, that secured the girl rigidly in place, unable to move any part of her body that might interfere with Greta's work.
First a very thorough medical examination, complete with blood pressure check and an anal temperature reading. As Greta's hands moved over her, it occurred to the girl trapped helplessly on the table, that the doctor had more than professional feelings for the young women that came into her hands. There was a certain indefinable but definite, sensuousness in her touch, particularly on nipples and clitoris, that owed as much to lust as to medicine though, she was equally certain, that lust was as much sadistic as amorous. Despite herself she found her body responding to the fingering.
"My, but you're a sensitive one," Greta purred admiringly, as a nipple hardened under her touch, "I do enjoy a responsive girl. Wait until we ring this," and she stroked a probing digit over the rapidly engorging wedge of her clitoris, "I can't wait to see you writhing as the needle goes through."
She had known all along that she would be pierced for the rings that denoted the true Sexton wife, but had not let thoughts of the details of that ringing penetrate too deep into her imagination, but now she could not avoid them. She shivered as she visualised Greta forcing a sharp instrument through her most delicate flesh. Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of cold metal at the entrance to her vagina, where Greta was preparing to insert a speculum. She gasped as the chilly instrument, its curved blades closed, penetrated between the delicate lips that guarded her sex sheath and slide firmly home. Even if Greta hadn't liberally coated it with lubricant jelly, her own secretions were flowing so shamefully freely it would have had no difficulty entering her to the hilt. Greta worked the screws to open up the leaves of the instrument, top and bottom, until her vagina was stretched open from labia to cervix, all its pink lining exposed, as the feel of cool air on mucus membranes rapidly informed her.
"Fine healthy cunt," Greta assured her. "Nothing wrong in that department. Well serviced from the look of it; should shape up well in training. Now let's look at the other end."
She withdrew and cleaned the instrument, then tilted back the table, until Jenny's head was well below her fork, the cut-out edge of the table giving free access to the puckered anal whorl, where it nestled at the bottom of the deep divide of the buttocks. She felt a frisson of chill as a thumbful of cold grease was applied and thrust deep into the tight closure, then the metal nose of the speculum was presented again. This time the battle was fiercer, the resistance more sustained but Greta had forced a hundred sphincters on this table and was not deterred, even if her patient could not believe that the seemingly huge blunt instrument could penetrate her delicate anal bud without tearing it irreparably. Accompanied by a grunt from Greta, and gasps and whimpers from the recipient of the steel intruder, the blunt nose forced the barrier and suddenly sank in its full length. Jenny gave a shocked cry as it entered her, seeming to fill her guts. She whimpered even more painfully as Greta opened up the instrument, top and bottom, until the rectal tube was revealed, its glistening pink surface strained and stretched by the operation.
"This one's healthy too," she assured the panting owner of the tender passage. "We'll start your rimming today."
With brutal efficiency, and a fine disregard for her patient's comfort, she collapsed the jaws and whipped the shining monster out of its fleshy bed in a single movement, drawing yet another shocked cry of outrage.
When she'd cleared away the instruments used in the inspection, and restored the table to its starting position, Greta returned to her examination of the turgid teats that sprouted so exuberantly from the firm mounds of the shapely breasts.
"We'll start with your tits. Nothing to it. Just a nice clean puncture with this," she held up an instrument like a leather punch, with a curved section of fairly large bore hypodermic needle fixed to one jaw, a small plate with a matching hole, to the other.
Preparation consisted of swabbing the straining teats, and their surrounding areola, with some sort of spirit. The shock of the chill and the slight sting on the most tender parts of the surfaces did nothing to drive them down, seeming if anything to increase their engorgement. Greta gripped a straining nipple between finger and thumb, stretching it painfully, then presented the point of the needle carefully to the very base of the extended teat, aiming to place the piercing as close as possible to the base of the gristly stem. Slowly she closed the jaws until the girl could feel the first prick of the sharp point.
"Now, we don't want to rush this," she observed. "Wouldn't do to have your rings lying crooked on your chest. Better a little discomfort now to ensure a nice neat job, don't you think?"
She didn't know what to think. Certainly she didn't expect Greta to take any notice of her opinion. One thing she was sure of. If this flinty operator said there might be a little extra discomfort, she meant, 'this is going to hurt like hell, so hang onto your socks'.
She braced herself as the jaws continued their inexorable closure, the needle pressing deeper and deeper into the teat, without actually penetrating the skin. Her nipples were large in proportion to her breasts, forming when engorged, as they most certainly were by then, twin cylinders of dark red flesh, slightly dimpled all over like ripe strawberries. Greta was putting on the pressure and the beleaguered teat could not last much longer. She was squirming and hissing and still the pressure increased. Then suddenly it was over. The point penetrated the skin and disappeared, fetching up in the hole in the anvil on the other jaw. The partially flattened nipple sprang back into its usual neat cylinder as she gave another shocked gasp of pain. Actually it wasn't so much the sharp stabbing bite, which had come almost as a relief after the persistent crushing of Greta's careful approach. No it was the feel of the flesh giving way. The tissues of her teats were nubbly, almost gristly in their toughness, which was why Greta had been at such pains to ensure that the needle did not wander as it went through. Although this meant they resisted the needle up to a certain point. Once penetrated, they gave way with unexp
ected suddenness and an almost audible plop of rending flesh, which sickened her stomach.
As she recovered from this belly churning shock she became conscious of a new discomfort. Greta was feeding an open gold ring into the perforation left by the withdrawn needle and the riven tissues within the wound were objecting vigorously. She was whimpering and gasping anew by the time the ring was in place and its ends closed. One done. Now all she had to do was lie back in her bonds and wait for the second tender peak to be perforated and plugged with its own gold ring like that already lying on the soft curve of her right breast.
"Well that's the easy bit done," Greta announced cheerfully, when she had completed the twin operations. "The next bits may be a little uncomfortable."
Her patient sighed deeply at the news but otherwise made no comment. In her helpless condition it would have made no difference anyway if she had objected, besides which she was here at her own desire to become a fully fledged Swive, as her friends called their status, and she wasn't about to cry 'uncle' at this stage.
Greta moved down to her crotch, tilting the table back a touch and adjusting the stirrups to widen the already spread thighs. A sudden stinging in her genitals announced that the doctor was using a spirit-based cleansing fluid to swab the pouting pinkness of her vulva prior to commencing operations. She clenched her teeth against the sharp pain and hissed loudly. Greta laughed.
"Caught you on the raw, did I? Just you wait. That's nothing to what comes later, but first we'll attend to these fat lips of yours."
She could feel the jaws of the piercing tool closing on her right cuntlip, first a pricking sensation, then more serious pain. The lip was fat and fleshy and Greta took her time going through it. This time she didn't even have the excuse of wanting to maintain a level opening for the ring to lie in. It hurt considerably and there was the same belly curdling shock as the thick tissues finally parted and the needle went through with a rush. Placing the ring wasn't any picnic either and she was panting and sweating by the time a neat gold circle adorned each plump nether lip.
"Now this is the interesting bit," Greta announced, swabbing stinging alcohol onto a shrinking clitoris, extracting an even more pained intake of breath from the prostrate girl, "Your Mr Maltravers sent a note along with your friends asking for some special treatment. Usually the men who send you girls here just leave it to us to fit you out in the conventional way for Sexton women, but your Henry has asked for a Christina. Don't often get asked for that, so I'm going to enjoy this session. Can't promise the same for you, I'm afraid," she added, almost as an afterthought, "but in the end you'll thank him for it. It's a very neat arrangement."
Cursing herself for even asking, her patient enquired what a Christina implied, half of her mind desperately curious to know, the other half equally anxious not to. As usual female curiosity had won the day.
"A Christina?" Greta replied. "Oh, it's a special form of clitoral piercing. Mostly we do triangles; that's what you've seen on your friends, a ring set underneath the head of the clit, where it lies in the furrow between the labia. It doesn't actually go through the nerve stem of the clit itself, just passes under it. The Christina, on the other hand," she went on, "travels quite the other way. It goes in at the same level as the triangle but runs along the length of the stem. Lying where you are now, the stem of your clit is lying more or less horizontally between your lips, and I'm going to push the needle through in a slightly upwards direction. That way it starts below the tip, crosses the stem at an angle along its whole length and comes out at the base of your belly, just above where your labia join. Can't put a ring in a straight hole that long, of course. I'll fit you with a ball-ended bar. All you will see of it will be a neat gold ball where it comes out at the top and, for your more intimate friends, another just under the tip of your clit."
She hated herself for having asked, she really wished she didn't know now, but then couldn't resist enquiring further.
"So I won't get a ring in my clit, like the others?" she said.
"Oh, yes. Can't have you missing out," Greta assured her. "Can't give you a triangle, the two piercings might clash, so I'll put it through the tip of your clit instead. Might make you jump a bit, but it will look fine. Actually, you've got a pretty big clit, so there'll be plenty of room to work in. May be rather more sensitive from now on, but that's no bad thing in a girl. There's never any harm in a girl being kept aware of her sexuality and it will give your lovers a useful means to both control and arouse you."
From the slight thickening of the doctor's tone, and the gleam in her eye, it was obvious she would like to add herself to the list of those privileged to do so.
For the next, longitudinal, perforation - the 'Christina' - Greta was using a long hollow needle set in a holder for better control. She parted the labia with the finger and thumb of her left hand, exposing the wedge-shaped clitoris, where it lay between them and she set the point where she had described, under the tip, at the base of the furrow. This time she had real reason not to hurry, as she guided the needle through the sensitive stem, keeping it carefully on track to emerge at her aiming point in the fold of flesh above where the labia joined. It was a long slow progress through nerve-packed tissue, the heart of her feminine sexuality, provoking extraordinary feelings of pain and passion, feelings so strong they lost their identity and became pure unbearable sensation, filling her belly with nausea. She writhed and spasmed as much as her tight restraints would allow, which was precious little, and made curious gargling sounds in her throat. Again it left her exhausted, gasping like a landed fish, her face running with beads of sweat.
"Prefect," Greta announced, "though no thanks to you, my girl. You were squirming like a cut worm. Do try and hold still for the next part."
Abashed by the unfeeling doctor's reprimand, she composed herself as best she could and felt the piercing tool used for the previous rings in her teats and labia, gently gripping her throbbing clit, inflamed and erected now as a result of the over-stimulation it had received from the traverse of the long needle, and the insertion of the gold bar with its gleaming ball ends. As the pressure on the tool increased, so did the urgency of her hissing protest, then it was through, with the usual sickening suddenness and she squealed in mingled shock and relief that it was, at last, all over bar the insert of the last ring.
"Well, that's a good morning's work," Greta said with satisfaction, a moment later. "Five rings and a Christina, all nicely placed though I say so myself. You'll be grateful to me, once you can see the result," she promised. "That Christina sets off your fat clit perfectly."
She swabbed the area of her operations with more stinging alcohol and cleared away her tools.
"Time for lunch, I think. We'll carry on with the rimming this afternoon."
'Lunch', for her patient at least, consisted of a large bottle fitted with a baby's rubber teat and suspended on a spring from a stand above the examination table. Apparently she was to stay where she was while Greta went to seek her own refreshment.
"I want every last drop sucked up," Greta ordered, settling the teat in her patient's mouth, "or else!"
She didn't specify what else, but then she didn't have to. The menace in her tone was quite sufficient for a naked girl trussed helplessly at her complete disposal, her genitals opened, and with an unknown but frightening afternoon session to come.
The contents of the bottle were disgusting, thick and glutinous, what little flavour it had was salty and unpleasant. She gagged and had to force herself to swallow it but Greta's threats, and her own vulnerability ensured she kept the degrading teat in her mouth, like a baby in its pram, and sucked and swallowed conscientiously until she had downed the whole nauseous concoction.
When Greta returned after a prolonged interval, she examined the bottle and pronounced herself satisfied.
"Enjoyed your lunch, I see," she observed.
St
rengthened by the rest and the nutriment, however unpalatable she had found it, her patient found the spirit to reply.
"Not much. It was disgusting," she said. "Whatever was it?"
"You should know semen by now, even taken cold," the doctor replied with a malicious grin, "full of protein and excellent nutriment for sexually active girls. Set you up no end for your exercises at the villa. Now let's see what we have here."
'Here' was her upturned anus, lifted by the tilting table until it was presented at a convenient height for examination. Greta stroked her fingers over the dimpled bud and positively cooed.
"How sweet," she said. "Quite delicious. And I love your fuzz. So soft and curly."
She twisted a tendril of the stray russet fringe that sat sparsely around the whorl of the clenched sphincter.
"It's lovely, but it'll have to go. Can't have it getting in the way of your rimming. Of course I could shave it but the tweezers would be so much more fun, don't you think?"
Jenny thought nothing of the sort but wisely kept her mouth shut. There was no way that Greta was going to take account of her wishes, and she would probably only make things worse for herself.
In the event it was difficult to see just how that might have come about. Greta took each curled ginger hair individually in the tweezers and slowly pulled on it. As the pressure increased, her victim writhed and hissed, praying it would give way and allow itself to be extracted, but Greta was enjoying herself too much to hurry it and kept her suspended in a refinement of torment that sapped her strength of mind. Tears streamed down her face and she was sobbing with pain and frustration. As hair after hair was pulled with excruciating slowness she began to dread the feel of the steel jaws against her skin, the tension building as the hair was lifted and teased. She would have settled for the worst beating of her life, and she knew exactly what a severe caning was like, if she could only have them whipped out quickly and without fuss. But Greta was having too much fun to let that happen and she delayed consummation until the very bitter end, smiling evilly as she watched the tiny cone of flesh extend around each pulled hair, judging expertly just how far she could go without actually extracting it, licking her lips at the inviting twitch of the tortured flesh, as the hair was finally plucked and added to the little pile of russet fur on the kidney dish beside her.
Painful Prize Page 15
