Erica deconstructed

Erica deconstructed

Part 1

I had been a little afraid of Debra, ever since that time a few months ago. I talked with her about my curiosity about “what the subs feel”, but it was only that CURIOSITY. I never thought she’d introduce me to submission by drugging me and then keeping me for a 3-day weekend of torment and heavy use. It was awful, frightening . . . but wonderful too, in a strange warped way. It did start me thinking differently, maybe I wasn’t as Domme as I thought I was? I was angry with her for a time, but she had been my very best friend for years and we gradually drifted back into that friendship again.

Months later, we were at my home having drinks again. I was still keeping a watchful eye on her and on my drink. While I was still aroused by what she did to me that time, I DIDN’T want it to happen again. But after a couple of drinks I felt that tired, fatigued, weak feeling . . . and I recognized it! OH NO! HOW had she managed it this time, I KNOW I watched her like a Hawk. She gently lifted my head in her hands, looked me in the smiling sweetly, and said “don’t worry Erica honey, this will be the last time I do this to you. The last thing I remembered were those words, and the strange smile on her lovely face . . .

_______________________________

When I awoke, I felt stiff and sore, and still so very tired. I was groggy and as I tried to get up and clear my head, I realized I couldn’t. As my eyes focused and I regained my senses I saw where I was. In an operating room! And it got worse; as I tried to turn my head to look around I found I couldn’t do it, and my jaws ached – my mouth was clamped open wide, I wanted to sit up, to RUN, but I couldn’t do that either. I could feel the straps holding me tightly to the table, immobilized with my legs spread wide apart and my arms out to my sides in a “crucified” position. Then a couple of faces came into view, Debra, then Suzanne (both nurses I work with, and I too am a nurse) then Leslie, a doctor we all know. And she was holding a long forceps in one hand and a scalpel in the other. OH MY GOD! I was terrified, some of the fantasies I’d shared with these women, too awful to contemplate, and starting just where I now lay . . . helpless. Debra said to Leslie, “we may as well get started now”. What did that mean? I tried to talk to them, ask them what they intended to do, but because of the mouth clamp it just came out as garbled and babbling, not actual human speech. Then I saw Suzanne at my head holding the anesthesia mask and felt a needle jab into my arm. I started getting drowsy again as the mask was pressed over my face, staring in terror at the instruments Leslie held in her hand, and that’s the last I remember . . .

_______________________________

A week later:

I awake, groggy, blurry-eyed, feeling a bit like a hangover. I open my eyes and see that I am in my own bedroom at home, and it gives me a feeling of comfort. Did Debra and I drink THAT much? But it slowly comes back to me . . . and I start to feel frightened, then as more comes back to me . . . terrified! I try to move, but find again that I can’t. That sense of comfort from being in my own room is GONE! I am able to turn my head so I look around and verify that I am indeed in my own bedroom, but there are oxygen tubes running into my nostrils, and I see an I.V. set-up beside my bed and the tube seems to run up towards my neck . . . that’s odd I think. I’m covered with a sheet up to my neck so I can’t see my body. I can’t really feel my arms and legs but I can tell my legs are spread wide apart and I can’t seem to close them. And now it registers that my jaws ache. I try to work them to ease the discomfort, but I can’t seem to close my mouth. I remember the clamp, it’s probably there again . . . but I can’t feel it, I just know that I can’t close my mouth. Then I see Debra and Suzanne come in and lean over me, and they are soon joined by Suzanne’s daughter Natalie. I ask Debra, “what is this, what are you doing to me”? But all I hear are tiny grunts and squeaks, very faint . . . and it hurts my throat to talk. I just don’t have the energy. Suzanne turns to Debra and asks, “she doesn’t know yet, does she”? Debra smiles and shakes her head “no”.

Suzanne checks my heartbeat, listens to my lungs, then pulls back the sheet and prods at my shoulders. It’s painful and I now register the ache in my shoulders, it is quite painful. Then she pulls the sheet back to reveal my legs (although I can’t see them I can feel it) and I feel her fingers on my upper thighs and my crotch. Again a throbbing pain begins where she has just touched me. I whimper, and I can feel tears building in my eyes.  She turns to Debra and says, “it’s doing just fine, everything is exactly as you wanted and healing nicely”. I see Natalie lean over my lower body holding a syringe, and I feel a sharp, deep thrust of needle into my thigh. I begin to “get fuzzy” again, and I have a fleeting half-thought, “but it was in my arm last time”?  Then Natalie and pulls the sheet back over me, and as I start to go under again I hear the door close.

I am in and out of consciousness, never fully awake for long. I have no sense of time passing. I see Debra, Suzanne and Natalie come it and do various “inspections” of me and treat me much as a seriously ill patient in a hospital. I know, I’ve done this sort of thing when I was a hospital nurse. Sometimes my shoulders and my crotch ache horribly, and if I try to speak it hurts and no real speech comes out anyway, so eventually I stop trying. Eventually my throat doesn’t ache, then my crotch stops hurting, and last of all my shoulders. I still can’t close my mouth but eventually the ache in my wide-stretched jaws subsides also. But my mouth remains immobilized in a wide-open position. I am kept awake for longer periods, Natalie feeds me soups and puddings, not easy with my mouth clamped open. In time I learn to swallow that way if small portions of soft foods and placed in my mouth. Sometime they come in to look me over, sometimes I’m left alone with my thoughts, and those are most unpleasant times. I still have no idea what has happened to me, but all the possibilities terrify me. I cry often, scream sometimes (although it comes out as a small, shrill squeal . . . an animal sound to my ears). I really try NOT to think, and am sometimes successful in that, just emptying my mind and “being”. When I do “think” and wonder the thoughts are so awful that I must try hard to push them out of my mind. I feel no pain anymore, although I am still unable to move, speak or close my mouth.

At some point Mimi, a woman we know who is a tattoo artist and piercer comes to see me along with Debra and Suzanne. She stands looking at me for a while, then says to Debra, “yeah, what we talked about . . . no problem at all”. She gets her piercing forceps and stretches my tongue out. Then the piercing right at the tip. I don’t see what she puts in, it hurts but not too badly (Truly, I have never been pierced anywhere except my ears many, many years ago). Then she is working inside my mouth and she pierces through from under my tongue out through my chin, just behind the jawbone. This one hurts and I give a squeal. Then she inserts the stud. Debra looks closely at my tear-streaked face (it all hurt more than I expected it too, especially the one through the bottom of my mouth). “Good”, she says, “those rings look about right. Then my nipples are done, and more pain. I’ve never had a very high pain threshold and I’m sure many woman wouldn’t feel it so much. I know there are rings in them too, even though no one says anything. I’m waiting for my vagina lips or clit to be next, but no, everyone just leaves the room, leaving me whimpering.

Three weeks later:

Now I just lie in my bed all day. Not put out any more, just normal sleep (although that is fitful and troubled). I try not to wonder what’s happening to me anymore. I have my legs fastened to the corners of the bed so I can’t close them. I’ve discovered they are padlocked there, as Natalie has started to release me every day for bathing, feeding, etc. She always puts a snug blindfold on when she does this, and I do wonder why that is. And I seem to have lost sensation in my arms. I feel only a constant dull numbness, almost painful but not quite. I think that my arms have been strapped tight behind me that they have lost all sensation.  I flex them, I move my fingers, but I can’t really feel it. And my abdomen is always strapped down too. I can turn my head slightly but not really see much. My jaw seems to have grown used to being held wide open. Nothing really aches anymore, but still I can’t feel my arms. I avoid thinking about why this might be, but I have occasional flashes of clarity and horror, but I close my mind to them as quickly as I can.

But there is something gnawing away at my mind. I’ve wondered about, thought about, fantasized about becoming a helpless 24/7/365 slave property for someone, perhaps even reduced to an object. It aroused me when I was a Domme fantasizing about doing it to other women, and it aroused me when I thought about it happening to me. And something REAL has happened (is happening?) to me now. I occasionally get feelings of arousal, but nowhere as strong as I used to by just fantasizing about things. They say “the fantasy is better than the reality” and maybe that’s true, maybe that’s why I can’t get really, really aroused. It’s disappointing to me that I seem to have lost so much of my sex drive.

I think if I can get to my clit or breasts I can work myself up, but I can’t move my arms and try as I might I can’t get my legs anywhere close to together so I can “grind one out” myself, hands free. I’ve done it often before. And I’ve been a sex-crazed, compulsive masturbator since I was in my early teens and first discovered my clit. I would often masturbate several (or MANY) time a day, whenever I had a bit of private time, and not always quite “private” at that. I don’t think a day ever went by without at least one orgasm for me. It’s frustrating now, and somehow I don’t wonder why it’s not so much MORE frustrating. On that long week-end when Debra kept me in bondage for three days, I got no orgasms until the end of the last day. I was exploding with desire when she finally gave me one and I thought I would have a heart attack then and there. And over the next few days I couldn’t keep my hands off myself, re-living that week-end in my mind. I should feel more aroused and frustrated than I do. But I suppose I should be thankful that I’m not, since I’m in no position to satisfy any sexual frustration on my part.

_______________________________

A month later:

One day, right after Natalie has finished bathing me and washing, drying and brushing my hair, Debra comes into the room where I’ve been kept. Debra says to Natalie, “she looks great, you’ve been doing a fantastic job maintaining her, but now we need to get her ready for the buyer.” I am blindfolded as always so I can’t see either of them, or anything for that matter. Quick as a wink a chain drops down from the ceiling in the center of the room and I feel a high, tight posture collar being tightened around my throat. Then the chain is fastened to the collar and I hear and feel an electric lift pulling the chain until I am standing with my legs together. Then two pairs of hands, one at each ankle, fastening leather cuffs tight around my ankles. More sounds of chains and the lift motor, then I feel my legs being pulled slowly apart. Now they are spread wide enough that I am forced to stand on my tip-toes. I feel one of them snapping some sort of a fitting on my tongue piercing. Then my tongue is stretched out and down, and I feel it being fastened to the ring that was put into my chin. This has never been done before and it hurts, feels as if my tongue is being pulled out entirely.

Then I hear Debra say, “go ahead and take off the blindfold, she may as well see what I’ve made her into.” I don’t like those words, I feel very frightened, as if something that has been lurking in my mind is going to come out . . . and I don’t want it to. I feel the blindfold being unlocked and un-buckled, and then my eyes are clear. I have to blink against the light, which seems brighter than I remember it. I haven’t seen Debra for some time, only Natalie, when she comes to clean, feed or evacuate me. I tilt my head down against the pressure of the collar and chain which is pulling my head up. I want to see them both now. I blink my vision clear, and I do see both of the women, but I also see a large, full-length mirror exactly opposite me, and I see myself in that mirror, and I scream . . .

Of course the scream comes out as only a guttural moan, my silencing was effective. I knew I had been silenced and accepted it, but now! And I must have realized this subconsciously, but when it came into my mind I pushed it out again. Too awful for me to acknowledge . . . but now I must. Through the tears rolling down my face I see that my arms are GONE! Oh my God, what has she done to me, I think? But then Debra comes up close to me and I feel her hand slide between my legs and rub seductively. But I feel nothing real, only a memory of arousal, what I should be feeling but I’m not. Another thing I don’t want to know, don’t want to face; not this too, please not this! Debra turns to Natalie and smiles, saying, “No sensitivity at all, they did a good job on her. And nice and pink and smooth, as if she never even had a clit!” I scream and scream again, but what comes out is almost nothing, just animal sounds. Being able to scream would have helped release the horror at what has been done to me, but even the screams are denied me. Tears are flowing down my face like a river, and now I notice that a stream of saliva is running from my clamped-open mouth down between my breasts. I’m in shock, in my mind I have become nothing, nothing at all.

Orgasms were my greatest joy in life. I masturbated constantly and had probably never gone a day without at least one since I was in my mid-teens. And now . . . never again! I mourn this more than the loss of my voice and my arms. I know there will never be that exquisite pleasure for me, NEVER again!

Then Debra says to Natalie, “Let her adjust to it for a while. The buyers will be here in about 2 hours, so be sure you come in and clean her up again for them. “The buyers”? What does that mean? Am I to be sold? Then they leave the room. Leave me there staring into the mirror they had carefully placed for me at what I have become, what I have been made into, sobbing, drooling, helpless and hopeless.

To be continued . . .