Bethany's Sins

Part 4

Bethany could not know it, but only three hours had passed by the time the pain began to fade. Any greater dose ran too high a risk of killing her, but it was long enough coupled with Herrault's comment, to give the illusion of a much longer period of suffering. Herrault had Bethany's wrists strapped again, and the bed tilted back so the time seemed to pass even slower.

Almost as soon as the pain stopped, she was aware of other needs: although she had not eaten anything solid for several days, she had recently taken in a lot of fluid. The kidneys did not stop working even when she was dried out, and now her bladder was full again.

The situation had been anticipated, and another "nurse" appeared almost as soon as Bethany became aware of her problem. This woman was much stronger, and clearly here to control Bethany if she should try anything. Bethany had no such ambitions: she still felt too weak to stand, let alone fight her way to freedom. And she was unsure if that was after all what she wanted. the whirlwind of events and sensations that had landed her here had not allowed her to settle, or to understand fully what she was feeling.

"Sweet thing," said the nurse, "Time to pee!" She provided what looked to be a bedpan modelled closely on those used in centuries gone by. The nurse cautioned her, "Take your chance now, or you won't get another."

It felt so humiliating to have to urinate with this woman standing over her, into a brass pan beneath the sheet. But there was no other option, and her bladder was feeling the strain. Reluctantly, but also with a sense of relief, Bethany let go.

When she was finished, the nurse inspected the pan, and remarked, "Well done, sweet thing! You'll be just fine." Then Bethany was alone again. She tried not to think about what might be done later with the contents of the bedpan. The notions that came to her were shocking, and she wondered if her captivity and treatment by Master H. had already turned her into the sort of filthy-minded person who would leap to those sorts of ideas. Then she realised that she was already thinking of him only by the title he had claimed, and she began to cry. Somehow, the life of wealth and luxury that had awaited her just a few hours away, seemed like a mere fairy-tale and her chances of reaching that particular happy ending had never been so remote. She thought she was feeling her belief in any other life but hellish servitude to Master H. slip into nothingness, and she mourned that passing.

Once she stopped crying, the boredom that followed seemed to be the worst torture she had faced. All the hours under Monsieur Herrault's vicious attentions, she had always had sensation, and change and something to occupy her mind. In her bored state, it seemed to her now that she had enjoyed every moment of his punishment of her, and that she would dearly welcome the sting of his violence on her skin. She hated herself for thinking such things, she tried to remember how pleasant and joyful it would be once she was free again and able to use her ill-gotten gains to build the life of which she had dreamed so long.

Her desire for freedom was piqued by a growing sense of hunger. The soup had, of course, had almost no nutritional value; its purpose was only to trick her into ingesting the torturous poison. Now she was desperately hungry, and though nutrients were provided by her drip feed, her stomach yearned to be filled.

She was filled with delight when a nurse arrived with a large sandwich and offered it to her, saying, "It's okay, Bethany, have something to build you up." Without thinking, Bethany said, "Oh, thank you so much!" and opened her mouth to receive the food. Just before she bit into the sumptuous looking sandwich, she recalled what she should be called if it was to be safe to eat. Feeling sick already, she reluctantly turned her head away instead of closing her teeth on it.

"Well done, sweet thing. But it is safe to eat, honest!" cooed the nurse and Bethany wondered what could be the case. Was she now to be ordered to eat something that would leave her wracked in pain, or had she voluntarily refused a sandwich that was safe to eat, waiting for the correct trigger words?

"Eat up, sweet thing, or Master will be angry!" the nurse added. That was enough to make up Bethany's mind. If she did not eat it then she would be punished – and the last comment had definitely been meant for her. Therefore, she had only one way to avoid pain, and that was if the sandwich was safe and she ate it. She bit off a small chunk, savouring the flavours for as long as she could before swallowing. It shocked her to realise how long she had been without solid food, without tasting anything at all. She decided that, if she was about to suffer for eating, then she would take as much joy from it as possible first. If it was safe, then savouring it would cause no problems.

The nurse waited patiently while Bethany took her time over the food, and then when the sandwich was all gone, she silently turned and walked away. Bethany waited in dread for the familiar stomach pains to develop.

Nothing happened, but eventually she began to feel the need to pee again. She had no way of knowing how much time had passed since her last opportunity, so she could not guess how long she might have to hold it in before the nurse arrived with the bedpan again. By the time that the bedpan did come, she was absolutely bursting to go.

"Okay, honeypie, just let yourself go," said the sweet-voiced nurse, another different face, after she had positioned the pan beneath Bethany. Bethany did so, and only when she had finished did she realise what she had done, and what the nurse had called her. She quickly realised what her punishment would be when she saw the nurse pouring the contents of the pan into a drinking bottle.

"Oh, please, no," she begged, "Please, I just had to go, I couldn't hold it any longer, please don't...!" But the nurse had transformed from the sweet and friendly medic into a cold, heartless automaton. She forced Bethany's head back onto the pillow and forced the drinking tube from the bottle between Bethany's lips. The urine was dark, as Bethany's body was still compensating for the recent dehydration, and consequently it was pungent. Bethany's mouth was soon flooded and the taste hit her like a terrible mouthful of warm, salty water with other flavours mixed in. She had no option but to swallow, and keep swallowing as the nurse carefully squeezed the bottle at a steady rate that only just gave Bethany time to swallow each time without spilling any down her cheeks. Bethany was sure that she was going to throw up, but she did not dare to do so. She could only gaze into the pitiless eyes of the sweet-looking nurse and keep swallowing her own piss.

Finally, there was no more of the vile fluid. The nurse explained succinctly, "Sweet thing gets to pee when the bedpan is brought for sweet thing. If sweet thing fails to wait for her turn, then she must take back her pee and wait for her turn." Then Bethany was alone again with the aftertaste still in her mouth.

Bethany knew that she would always listen for the magic words, "sweet thing", before she did anything in future. For two days she lay in her bed, sometimes adjusted so that she was sitting, occasionally with one or both hands free to allow her to eat or drink more easily – although there were just as many times when the nurses seemed happy to feed her themselves. It left her confused and she did not know what could be planned for her.