BDSM Library - Tales From The Psych Ward

1Tales From The Psych Ward 01 - "Of One Mind"

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

This series of stories is inspired from my own struggle with marginal Borderline Personality Disorder, but none of the persons, incidents, or depictions are real - in everyday reality or in my own personal realities. Each story stands on its own, but uses characters and references from other stories in the series.

The over-riding theme of the series is BDSM, even though some of the individual stories more properly belong in fantasy... but then, isn't the "Borderline" between bondage and fantasy rather blurred anyway?

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

My close friends who know me very well sometimes ask me how it feels to have so many people inside me. I always reply, "There are only three of us, and it is only one at a time."

People who don't know me very well think I have catatonic epilepsy. To the outside world, sometimes I just lock up for somewhere between a few moments to a few days. That makes it a little hard to work, and even harder to have any close friends. But inside, I am not "locked up," I am someone else... and I am often somewhere else.

Actually, I am not always someone else. When I am Kelly, I am someone else. When Wayne drops by and takes me somewhere, I am me unless I am Kelly but then all I can see is Wayne. I don't know for sure if Wayne is his name because he has never said it, but that is what I call him. Kelly calls him "Master."

My doctors say that Kelly and Wayne are just hallucinations that occur during my seizures, but I know that they are real. When I hear that "music" playing softly in the distance and coming closer and closer, I know that either Wayne or Kelly is going to drop by.

The music used to be just strange melodious noise, but then one day I heard an old song by Helen Reddy called "Angie Baby." It sounded a lot like the music I was hearing, and from that point on, what I hear just before things happen is the voice of Helen Reddy singing, "It's so nice to be insane; No one asks you to explain; Radio by your side, Angie Baby."

Wayne is a sadistic, overbearing prick. He calls me foul names. He makes me suck his cock. He fucks me in the ass. I should hate him, and I guess I do, but I also find that I want him to return. I want him to order me to my knees. I want him to make me take his soft member into my mouth and make it harden with my tongue. I want him to force me to remove my clothing and kneel with my head and shoulders on the floor so that my ass is offered to him for his use.

The doctors say that it is all in my head. They show me the video tapes of episodes which occurred when I was "in-house" in the treatment center. I am sitting totally still at the table. I have not removed my clothing. I am not kneeling on the floor. I am not sucking on a large penis. Nothing is happening.

But they cannot explain why when I "awake" there is a slickness in my mouth and the sweet-salty taste of semen on my tongue, or why my ass is stretched and bleeding. "Stigmata," they say. "The mind can do powerful things," they assure me.

So can Wayne.

Sometimes Wayne comes to see me when I am Kelly. Then things are even rougher. Kelly likes it. She loves cock. She loves to be fucked. She loves to be fucked in the ass. She loves to be fucked in the mouth. She love to be fucked in the cunt or between her breasts or between her legs with her legs pushed high over her face so that the spurting cum splashes on her face or any other way in which Master can think of. Kelly likes it.

Kelly doesn't like the whip or the paddle or strap or Master's bare hand. There she is like me. Kelly doesn't like it..., but she needs it. Like a heroin addict seeking out one more fix, Kelly will push Master until he reaches the point where he must punish her.

Yesterday, Kelly pushed a little too far, or maybe Master had a bad day and was so full of anger that he needed to take it out on someone. In any case, after forcing Kelly to deep throat him, he tried to take her in the ass. He knows that Kelly likes it, so he was very surprised when she fought him. He was very angry when she struck him. He lost control when she tried to kick him in the nuts.

He beat her like she had never been beaten before. He didn't use his fists, but he slapped her hard enough to spin her to the ground. Then he took off his belt, doubled it back into his hand, and began strapping her. At first Kelly just lay on the floor and absorbed the punishment. But Master continued. Kelly began to beg and plead for mercy, but Master continued. She screamed and yelled in pain, but Master continued. Finally Kelly just lay still upon the ground and cried and whimpered softly into the carpet. Master finally stopped. He turned Kelly over onto her back and took her brutally, thrusting deep into her cunt, bruising her cervix with the depth of his penetrations.

They tell me it is just hallucinations, but my body is covered in bruises and welts, and I hurt inside in a very strange way that the doctors cannot explain.

That was last night. My friend who checks on me stopped by my apartment and took me to the emergency room. The hospital regulations require that they notify the police on all "obvious assault cases." The officer who interviewed me, Detective Mendes, had seen me before. He knew me..., all three of me. He asked me who did it, and I replied, "Wayne." He asked my friend if I was alone in the apartment and if there were any signs of struggle, and my friend said, "No." Then he made a few notes in his little book, muttered, "Nutbag," under his breath and left.

I could barely move, but didn't need surgery or anything like that, so my friend took me home to my apartment. He was worried about me, so he stayed the night and slept on the couch.

I was still in bed when the doorbell rang this morning. My friend answered it for me, and then called to me, "I think there is someone here to see you."

There was something odd about his voice and I wondered who could possibly be at the door. I walked into the living room and he swung the door totally open. Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman in a very short black dress. It was obvious that she had nothing on under the dress. She was also barefoot and had a large, black, leather dog collar around her neck. As strange as she looked, I don't think that is what had upset my friend. I think primarily it was the fact that her body was covered with bruises in exactly the same pattern as I was. That, and the fact that the name engraved on the brass plate on the front of her collar said "Kelly."

She stood there in the doorway silently for what seemed like several minutes, then she said, "Master Wayne sent me. He thinks that you and I need to talk." I fainted a real faint, not a seizure. When I came to, Kelly was gone. I was crying uncontrollably and saying over and over again, "She is real. She is real. She is real." My friend took me back to the hospital.

The doctors don't believe me. They don't believe my friend either. I am here for a 72 hour observation. Kelly said she might talk to the doctors if she stops by. She also said that Master Wayne has forgiven her, but that he wants us both to come live with him as slaves. Master Wayne is amazed that his "dream slave," as he evidently calls me, is real. He is also intrigued by the connection Kelly and I have between our minds and bodies. He wants to see how we both respond when he whips her or fucks me in the ass. He especially wants to see how I respond when he fucks Kelly in her cunt.

When if they let me out of here, I might go with her to Master Wayne's house. The doctors keep telling me that I have to learn to live in reality. But Master Wayne and Kelly are my reality. That is where I belong. Maybe if I go there I will learn to like it rather than just needing it.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale One of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 02: I'm Baaaaack!

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

To make a long story short, people who don't know me very well think I have catatonic epilepsy. The shrinks think it is catatonic schizophrenia. In other words they think that I totally lose contact with reality and go off into some fantasy world in my head. What none of them seem to understand is that it isn't fantasy, and it isn't in my head. It is reality, my reality - and part of my reality includes occasionally going catatonic in public.

Being a zombie in a public place means police and court involvement so I have to keep seeing a court- authorized shrink to stay out of legal trouble - or at least minimize it. I have been assigned to Dr. Susan Barrington.

Recently Dr. Susan - she insists I call her by her first name but use the title - recently she found out that I was writing stories for the internet. She blew a gasket and demanded that I bring in my laptop and all my backup disks.

She read the stories and said that she could not allow me to descend further into my psychosis and insisted that I delete all my accounts and erase my stories from my hard drive. She kept the backups. (She didn't say anything about the memory stick I had hidden at home, so I still have my stories.) She also committed me for a 72 hour observation citing that I was possibly a danger to myself.

I have never hurt myself. When Wayne comes, he sometimes hurts me. When I am Kelly, Wayne sometimes hurts me and sometimes he has others hurt me. But I never hurt myself.

60 hours into the 3 day observation I went catatonic. I returned with bruises and whip marks all over my body. Dr. Susan tried to get me to explain how I had hurt myself. I told her, but she wouldn't listen. Wayne had come and gotten me. He took me to a club somewhere. Kelly and I were up on a stage. I was taped to her with something that looked like black duct tape. It was thick and tore like duct tape, but it was black.

She was suspended in some sort of frame by her wrists so that her toes barely touched the ground. There were poles on either side of her and a bar above her head from which chains led to her wrist binder cuffs. Her ankles were spread and held by short chains to the poles that supported the bar above her head. My wrists were attached to chains hanging from the same bar, but I was not pulled up off my feet.

A young blond girl had come up on stage. She was nude except for a belt holding dildos in place in her cunt and her ass and a tight leather belt cinching down her breasts. She took my prick into her mouth and fluffed me until I was hard. Then she guided my hard-on into Kelly's anus.

At that point Wayne came up on stage and taped us together. He wound tape around us so that Kelly's tit's were practically covered with tape. Then he wound tape around our waists and separately on our thighs and on our lower legs and even on our arms. After inspecting his work, he turned to the audience and said, "It is time for the fun to begin."

With that he inserted a large metal dildo into Kelly's pussy and clipped something to her nipples. Both the dildo and the nipple clamps had wires trailing from them. I thought he would connect the wires to some sort of tens unit, but instead he connected them to floor. As I looked down I realized that the entire structure that we were hanging from was welded to a huge metal plate on the floor. The wires connected to screw terminals which protruded from the plate near the base of the support poles.

Wayne stepped behind me with a large metal paddle. It had holes drilled in it like a punishment paddle, but it also had a wire leading from the handle back into the darkness. I don't know if there was some sort of switch mechanism in the handle or the voltage was always on, but when he swatted my ass it hurt twice. First there was the intense pain of the paddle itself, and on top of that was the pain of the electricity surging through me and into Kelly.

Some of the current flowed through my legs into the floor plate, but most of it went through my prick into Kelly's ass. Her screams confirmed that she also felt the voltage in her ass and in her pussy and on her nipples.

I heard the audience shout something, but wasn't able to tell what it was. Wayne hit again and again and again. My body would spasm with each stroke as the current caused my muscles to tighten. Kelly's muscles were also tightening because I could feel her anus clench around my prick.

At one point my head snapped further back than normal and I was able to see some sort of clock or counter above our heads. Suddenly I could understand what the audience was yelling. Each time Wayne smacked us, the counter would click down one number. They were counting down the swats. Finally, when I thought I could stand no more, I heard "Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six..." At that point I started to cum. I think Kelly could feel me filling her ass with cum because she clenched down tightly and stayed clenched while giving out a continuous moaning yell. I was still shuddering when the audience yelled "Zero," and suddenly I was back in my room at the ward.

I told Dr. Susan everything. She listened politely as doctors always do and then asked me again how I had hurt myself so badly in the room and what I had used. I repeated my story to her twice more. At the end of the first repetition, she asked once more how I had hurt myself. At the end of the second repetition she just sighed and spoke into her little recorder, "Recommending 60 day in house treatment...."

I was 45 days into my treatment when Wayne came to see me. He was laughing. "We really have to get you out of here, don't we? Kelly is really upset that you have been locked away. She doesn't think that it is fair, and she says that she knows how to get you released." Wayne then smiled and said, "I've checked the schedules and made some arrangements. We have another performance tomorrow night and I think you will enjoy it."

I dreaded the next evening coming. I had no idea what Wayne was planning. Dr. Susan stopped by around 8:00 pm, which was unusual, but she explained that the normal staff psychiatrist was on vacation and she was covering overnight duty for a couple of days. As she left she called back over her shoulder, "I'll see you in the morning for our session. Have a good night."

It wasn't a good night. About ten o'clock Wayne suddenly came into the room and said, "Showtime!" and I was back at the club hanging as I had been hanging the time before. The blond girl again came onto the stage and fluffed me so I could be inserted into Kelly's ass, but as Wayne was guiding me into her anus I realized that there was something different about Kelly. Her hair wasn't right. The height was just a little bit different. The slave collar was brown rather than black. And she was gagged. Kelly never needed to be gagged. Something wasn't right.

Wayne again inserted the metal dildo and attached the nipple clamps and picked up his electric paddle. This time I clearly heard the audience shout "100" as Wayne's first stroke hit. It was as bad or even worse than it had been the first time and Kelly, or whoever it was, reacted even more strongly than before. She writhed in pain and screamed into her gag with each swat. However, after about 20 or so swats she was moaning differently. It didn't sound like cries of pain. It sounded more like a building orgasm. As we neared 50 strikes of the electric paddle she began to cum. She ground herself back into me and tried to pull me deeper into herself. By the time the audience finally cried, "Zero" she had orgasmed numerous times and I had surprisingly cum at least twice. I awoke on my bed back in the ward drenched in sweat, my ass and thighs a mass of welts. "Oh shit," I thought. "How am I going to explain this to Dr. Susan. I will never get out of here."

After my morning shower, I was told that Dr. Susan wanted to talk to me in her office. As I entered her office she was seated behind her desk. It must have been a bad night on the ward because she looked like she hadn't slept all night. In fact, she really looked like hell.

"Sit down," she began. "I want you to tell me more about Wayne and Kelly. What I specifically want to know is if he comes when you call him, or does he just show up sometimes?"

I explained that I had no control at all over Wayne or Kelly. They just showed up when they showed up. Dr. Susan looked disappointed for some reason and then she asked, "Do you enjoy what Wayne does to you?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "What he does is painful, but at the same time it gives me intense pleasure. I don't think you understand that."

"Oh, I understand more than your realize," she responded. "I have learned a great deal about you recently. I don't think I am the right doctor for you. I am transferring your case to Dr. Henderson. He and I have discussed your problems and have agreed that it would be better if you were treated as an outpatient under his supervision. He has also read your stories and has agreed that they are abusive, but that they might be a good outlet for your fantasies, so you will be allowed to resume your net writings. You will be released after breakfast. Do you have any questions?"

I said, "No," but actually I did have several questions. I really wanted to ask, "Dr. Susan, why are there bruises around your wrists?" I wanted to ask, "Why do you look so uncomfortable as you sit in your chair?" And most of all I wanted to ask, "Why is there a brown leather dog collar sitting on the corner of your desk with a little gold nameplate on it that says, Suzie'?"

Anyway, that's how I remember it. Dr. Henderson says all that occurred was that Dr. Susan realized that she was over-reacting to my strange sexual fantasies and felt that I would be better served by a male doctor. That's how he remembers it, but then, he has his reality, and I have mine.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Two of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 03 - "The Mind of a Witness"

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I guess if you are going to have a catatonic episode, there is no better place to have it than in your psychiatrist's office. Especially if he doesn't really believe what happens.

Dr. Henderson had just said that he thought that we had been making a lot of good progress over the past several weeks when suddenly I was gone. He thought I was catatonic, but actually I was in an alley downtown. This sort of thing happened all the time with Kelly, but this time I wasn't Kelly. I was someone else. I think her name was Rachel. I was Rachel and I was being raped and murdered.

I could vaguely remember that my car had stalled and I couldn't get it to restart. I was in a bad neighborhood, but knew that there was a bus stop just one block over. I cut through the alley thinking that the streets weren't any safer and it was the shortest distance to a safe spot, but no sooner had I entered the alley than hands had grabbed me from behind and dragged me into a side alley that couldn't be seen from the street. That's when things got bad... really bad.

I woke up in the hospital emergency room. Dr. Henderson was next to the bed talking to one of the ER doctors. I could hear him say, "I know it is procedure, but I tell you he wasn't attacked. I was there. The wounds and bruises just appeared as he sat there in a catatonic psychotic episode. They are called stigmata.' Put that in your report."

The ER Doctor replied, "Well, Officer Mendes is here anyway with a DOA homicide, so we will just have him step into the room for a moment."

A few moments later Detective Mendez came into the room. He knew me from numerous times before when I had been admitted to the ER with unexplained injuries. As he walked over to the bed I was sitting on he said derisively, "OK nutbag, what did you do to yourself this time?"

He started to ask something else, but as he came around the bed to where he could see my face, he suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "Holy Matre Dio Shit!!!" and ran out of the room.

I could hear him yelling down the hallway, "Frank, I want you up here now!" Then he and a CSI tech entered the room. He continued, "I want close ups of his face and details of every fucking square inch of his body, and I want them compared to the vic in room 10. And I want that done NOW!"

The tech started to say something, but then he looked up at me and exclaimed, "Jesus! That ain't possible!"

"Tell me about it," said Detective Mendez, shaking he head. Then he suddenly snapped his head around so he could look me directly in the face and said with slow anger, "Now, you tell me all about it, nutbag. I want every detail of everything you can remember or make up about what happened to you."

I wondered what had caused all the commotion, but as I lay back on my bed I got my answer. I caught a glance of my face in the mirror. On my forehead, directly between my eyes, was the backward imprint of a signet ring. A large, ornate R had been embedded into my forehead and was starting to fill in with a dark purple as my skin began to bruise.

"That must have been when Rocco hit me, " I said.

"Tell me what you know." replied Mendez. His voice was strange, almost tired-like. The anger was gone. "I don't know how you know it, but tell me everything."

"OK," I replied. "I was at my psychiatrist's office when suddenly I was in an alley downtown. I was trying to cut across to a bus stop., but somebody grabbed me from behind."

"What do you mean, You were in an alley'?" he interrupted.

"It was like when I become Kelly," I replied. "Only this time it wasn't Kelly."

His only response was "Jesus, don't go into that shit. Just tell me what you want to tell me and we will sort out how you know it later."

I continued. "There were two of them. One of them pushed me into the side alley and said, I've been looking forward to this for a long time, Chica.' Then he hit me in face with the his fist - really hard. My head snapped back and then I started to fall forward. The other one grabbed my arms from behind to keep me from falling and the first one started to tear off my clothes. As he ripped my skirt from around my legs, his face came into the light and I recognized him. He was one of the mechanics at the garage where I have my car worked on. I think his name is Rocco.'"

"Rocco grabbed my blouse and pulled it open and then wrenched it down my arms. He grabbed my arms just under the shoulders while his friend finished stripping it away. Then his friend grabbed my arms again near my elbows and pulled them back almost between my shoulder blades. Rocco then grabbed my skirt and yanked hard, tearing it from my body. He did the same with my panties. I was surprised and how hard it was for him to tear away my thong. I always thought of it as just a piece of thread around the back, but evidently it is a little stronger than the butt floss that people call it. The waist band cut into my back as he tore it away."

"After I was completely naked things got really bad. OK, you prick tease,' Rocco's friend rasped, Let see how much you really want it.'"

"With that they threw me face first onto the ground and Rocco jumped on top of me. I tried to fight against him, but he was too strong. He flipped me over and spread my legs and plunged into me. The pain was tremendous, but somehow he slipped into me almost immediately. Thinking back on it, he must have been wearing an lubricated condom. The pain continued with each thrust."

"I had sex before but not like this. Something wasn't right about Rocco. It was like he was stretching me top and bottom and on one side. I think I was tearing because the pain became much worse. I felt like I was being impaled by a big cork screw."

"Finally he finished, but as he stood up, his friend took his place. Old bent nail probably has you torn up pretty good up front, so I'm going for the Hershey Highway.' He flipped me face down and pulled up on my hips so that my ass was slightly in the air. Then holding my hips, he forced himself into me from the back. Again he slipped in very easily. He must have been wearing a lubricated condom and must have also been very small because there was much less pain that I expected."

"I curled up in a ball and hoped that they were finished with me, but then Rocco pulled me to my feet. Did you think, little Chica, that we were going to let you go? You know who I am, don't you. I saw the recognition in your eyes. I think we will have a little more fun with you and then make sure you never tell anyone.'"

"I tried to pull away, but they dragged me further back into the side alley. There were a couple of large pipes that stuck up out of the ground to protect a dumpster. They tied my hands to rings that were welded near the top of the pipes and put some sort of tape over my mouth. Then they tied my feet to the pipes near the ground and took off their belts and began to swing them at my back. I tried to scream, but nothing came out."

"Rocco came up behind me and whispered in my ear. You think we are doing this just to have fun. Well, that is partially true, but in reality, we are concealing evidence. The coroner will be able to tell that there is something different about me by the bruising on your cunt, so we are giving him some different bruises to look at.' Then he stepped back and began swinging his belt upward between my legs. I nearly passed out from the pain as slap after slap slammed into my pussy lips. I could barely get my breath. I was wishing that they would just kill me and get it over with."

"Then Rocco stepped around in front of me and held up a small wooden baseball bat. He chuckled and said, Hundreds of these are sold everyday at the ball park. No way to trace it from just the bruising pattern. But it is the unreleased signature of The Baseball Rapist.' Then he shoved it into me... hard. He rocked it back and forth and up and down and laughed again, Hurts, doesn't it Chica. A pity you won't learn your lesson and not shake that pretty little ass of yours in everybody's face all the time. Well, maybe you have learned your lesson, but its too late, isn't it?' Then he pushed the bat all the way in."

"I could feel myself tearing inside. When he pulled the bat out it was covered with blood. I could feel blood running down the inside of my legs. I was starting to get light headed. Strangely the pain was gone. All I could think of was So this is what it is like to bleed out.'"

"Then Rocco reached up above my arms. See these rings, Chica? Isn't it a lucky coincidence that they are on these poles? There was no fence nearby to string you up on, but these worked out real well. And see this weld? It's not really a weld. The top of these pipes screw off. Frank there puts these pipes in all over town and every one of them is a perfect place to tie up whoever needs to be tied up or hide whatever needs hidden. We won't leave your body too close to the dumpster, but even if we did, no one knows they come apart but Frank and me.'"

"With that, he unscrewed the top of the pipe and dropped the bat down inside it. He next dropped in a couple of paper towels with something inside them - maybe the rubbers they had used. And finally he dropped in all of my clothes. Cops will go nuts searching the dumpsters and sewers for this stuff, and all the time it is right here with you.'"

"That's all I remember, Officer Mendez. Things went black after that and I woke up in here."

He looked at me for a moment and growled. "I'm going back down to that alley and checking out those pipes. If what you say is in there we have fingerprints and DNA to put Rocco and Frank or whoever they are away for a long time. Maybe I will check every God damned pipe around every God damned dumpster in this God damned city and clear up a whole bunch of God damned cold cases. I don't know how you know all this, nutbag, but if I find out you were in on this in any way, I will put you away forever."

Dr. Henderson, who had been standing quietly near the head of my bed spoke softly, "I can assure you, Officer Mendez, that he was in my office the entire time that whatever occurred happened, and no, I have no idea what it was that actually occurred."

Officer Mendez and Dr. Henderson then walked over to the corner of the room and spoke in whispers for several moments before they both left.

A little while later, Kelly came into my room. She was really here. She wasn't just in my head. The ER doctor could obviously see her because he stepped aside to let her come up to my cot. She wasn't dressed in her usual short black dress and there was no dog collar around her neck. "Master Wayne told me I could dress normal' to come down here," she said. She struggled to say, "I came to identify the body," then she continued quietly, "Rachel was my sister. Master Wayne said you knew what happened. I was listening outside your door. You don't have to repeat it."

She paused and cried softly for a few moments. "I told Rachel about you once. I told her that when things were almost too bad for me to bear alone, all I had to do was think about you and suddenly you were there with me. She must have remembered when things got bad for her. Thank you for helping her.... And thank you for telling the police what happened even if it means they think you are a nutbag." Kelly gave me a wry smile and a gentle kiss on my cheek and then turned and walked out of the room.

After she left I fell asleep and let the pain pills do their thing. The next morning I was watching the news from my hospital bed and saw Officer Mendez at a press conference. "Yes," he explained. "We have two suspects in custody. They thought they had a perfect hiding place for the evidence, but something about that weld just caught my eye and when I twisted hard on the cap on the top of that pole, it opened up."

The Chief of Police interrupted at that point, "And in answer to an earlier question, no, there was no tip from the public. It was just good instinct and good detective work, and we are following up on Officer Mendez's discovery. We are checking every dumpster protection pole in town to see if there is more evidence hiding, but I think that we have apprehended The Baseball Rapists."

That's the official story and I guess that is how it is going to go into the papers and the history books, but once again, they have their reality, and I have mine.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Three of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 04 - Cassandra

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I was "in house" after a security guard went ape shit and called 911 when I went catatonic while standing in a clothing isle in the store. Maybe if I had been in the men's section, or at least not in front of a full display of female thong underwear, he wouldn't have been so upset. The fact that most of my clothing suddenly disappeared may also have had something to do with it. I came out of it totally OK and lucid, but once the EMTs and the police were involved, a short stay at the ward was inevitable.

I don't really mind my stays at the ward, but in house treatment means I have to attend the daily group sessions. That I do mind. I have never understood why talking to people who cannot possibly understand what is truly going on with me is supposed to help, but if it is what I have to do in order to be allowed to go back to my apartment, I play along.

Dr. Henderson leads the in house group and with him leading, group is always very "formal." He insists on calling us by our "proper names" and insists that we refer to ourselves as our "true inner selves." He did not appreciate it today when I told him that his neurotic fixation on given names must indicate some deep underlying issue from his childhood.

They really don't like it when you spout their psychobabble bullshit back at them, but he couldn't show anger... No, that would be "unprofessional." Instead he paused to collect his thoughts and control his anger and answered in his obnoxious, psychologist's lets-all-be-calm- and-reasonable voice saying clearly and distinctly, "Nicknames and pet names are just something to hide behind. We are here to rediscover and re-attach to our true selves, so we will all use the true names for our true, inner selves."

He then turned to the newest member of the group and said, "We have a new member of the group today. Cassandra, would you be willing to tell us something about yourself?"

The young girl who was new to the group smiled pleasantly at him and replied to the whole group, "My true name and my true, inner self is Cassie,' not Cassandra.' Cassandra is an abused child abandoned by a useless father and an alcoholic mother. Cassie is me. I had my name legally changed years ago, even if your records do not reflect that fact, Dr. Henderson. For the record, I do not answer to Cassandra, and unless you call me by my proper name, I will have nothing to do with this group."

I knew I was going to like Cassie.

After morning group she approached me in the community room. Dr. Henderson also has this big thing about "bleeding off group dynamic" and tries to keep us from talking with each other outside of group. But he leaves for lunch and then has afternoon office hours, so what he doesn't know about doesn't matter. As long as we didn't cause a disturbance, the staff wouldn't write us up, and I wasn't going to say anything about it in group. I was pretty sure that Cassie wouldn't either.

Anyway Cassie came up to me and asked, "Is it true that you go places?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" I answered cautiously. This is, after all, a psych ward, and you have to be a little careful with what you say to whom or you can suddenly find yourself on the wrong end of a shiv or a bent spoon.

And don't say that they don't let us have anything sharp - like that would make a difference. If they give us plastic, it is easy to hide and easy to sharpen. If they stick with metal - no pun intended - they don't give us knives or forks, but they still give us spoons.

It is amazingly easy to quickly bend a spoon so that the cup of the spoon fits like a T over the handle. Put that in the palm of your hand and you can drive it through plywood. As Tim, who sits in the corner and keeps his back to the wall always reminds us, "Just because I am paranoid doesn't mean that one of you isn't out to get me."

Cassie waited while my thoughts wandered. When I was finally looking at her again, she continued, "I heard that someone called Wayne sometimes comes and takes you places. Is that true?"

"Truth is relative," I replied. "It is true in my reality. In Doctor Henderson's reality, it is merely an hallucination from which my body creates stigmata."

"That's what they tell me, too."

Cassie's eyes began to tear up and she continued, "Nobody will believe me about Debra... or Billie, but it happens. Mistress Debra comes for me and takes me away. Sometimes I am Billie when she takes me and sometimes Billie and I are there together when she does things to us. It isn't an hallucination. And there are no recorded cases of stigmata like this..."

She lifted the front of her smock, baring her lower stomach. Then she pulled down her sweat pants slightly so that I could see the ornate tattoo on her lower belly across the top of her pubic bone. In very intricate Gothic letters intertwined with green vines and red roses it said, "Debra's Slut." Lifting up the legs on the sweat pants so I could see vines curling around both her ankles, she said simply, "It begins on the soles of my feet. That is NOT stigmata."

I remained silent, and after a few moments, she continued, "It all appeared two weeks ago. I was in the state correctional facility's psychiatric ward across town. There was a big fuss about who did it and how they got the material into the prison and all that. I think one of the ward orderlies lost his job over it, but he didn't do it. He didn't do anything. Debra did it."

"She came and got me and took me to a club. She took me up on stage and told me to take off all my clothes. Then she lathered me up all over with menthol shaving cream. I kind of liked the way it made my skin feel a really weird cold all over, but I was really scared about what Mistress Debra was up to. Then, while they played some funky music, she slowly shaved all of the hair off my body, including the hair on my head. She even took off my eyebrows."

Cassie ran her hand through her very short, reddish blond hair. "It's starting to grow back a little up here, but she rubbed some sort of cream into the skin between my legs and said that it would be a long time before the grass grew again on that highway. After I was totally smooth, she wiped me down with a towel and led me over to what looked like half of a huge barrel. She pushed me back so that I had to lean against it to keep from falling over. Then my hands were then stretched wide across the top and strapped in place."

Cassie reached up her hands and held them out in a V like she were hanging from a beam. "Then they rotated the barrel so that my legs were pulled off the ground and my back was arched around the barrel shape. Two men came out and pulled my legs even wider apart and strapped them to the barrel. The whole thing was then rolled into the center of the stage and a bright spotlight was positioned so that it shone down directly on my cunt."

I was a bit surprised to hear her call it her "cunt." Evidently she saw the look on my face and added, "That's what it is. It's not a pussy' or slit' or down there.' It's a cunt, and I'm a cunt. Debra and Dr. Henderson have something in common. She insists that I use the right words."

I continued to remain silent. Cassie continued. "A scruffy looking man in grubby blue jeans and a black T-shirt came out on stage dragging a stool and a small rolling table with him. Debra joined him. She had a microphone in her hand. Masters and Mistresses,' she began, I have decided to publicly mark this slave for your enjoyment. You are familiar with David's work. He is very talented in many ways. He has also modified some of his equipment for special occasions like this."

"Normally the ink of a tattoo is driven just barely under the dermis. That is sufficient for most tattoos, and causes the least amount of pain. A tattoo such as this slave is to be marked with, however, should be permanent. It should never fade away. It should not even be able to be erased with laser removal or dermis graft surgery. This slave shall be marked as a slave forever.'"

"There were cheers and yells from the darkness, and then Debra continued. To do this, David uses a special tattoo gun with multiple needles, some of which penetrate deeply into the skin. It is his own design. It is much slower than a regular tattoo gun, but is still extremely precise so he can do the intricate design I want. The one drawback for the slave is that the multiple deep needles are very painful. My slave has received no pain killers and will not be gagged. I hope you enjoy her screams as accompaniment to your evening meal. If she gets too loud, we will come up with something to muzzle her.'"

"I didn't know what she meant... until he touched me with that tattoo gun. I have a small tattoo on my ankle. That stung when I got it. This didn't just sting, it felt like I was being eaten alive by a thousand tiny insects. I got bit by some fire ants down in Texas once, and that was nothing compared to what those needles were doing to my skin. In seconds I was screaming myself horse."

"After a few minutes that felt like hours, Debra came back up on stage. She had a cocktail glass in one hand and the microphone in the other. I think we need to quiet her down for a little while, don't you? Master Wayne, would you like to put something in her mouth to keep her quiet?'"

"A somewhat dark, very good looking man came up on stage and stood so that I was staring at the crotch of his black jeans as I was screaming. I don't know, Debra,' he said. I don't think I can trust her not to bite down on me as David works on her. Why don't we just put something OVER her mouth rather than in it.'"

"He looked out into the darkness and said loudly and firmly, Kelly, come up here on stage... and I want you naked by the time you get here.'"

"Almost immediately a young, naked girl ran up on stage and stood next to Wayne. Straddle this screamer, Kelly and cover her mouth with your twat. This isn't for your pleasure, it's so these folks can hear each other as they converse over their meal. If you are getting pleasure out of it, you are doing it wrong.'"

"The girl looked up at him with a questioning look on her face and he added, That means that if you cum from this, you will be punished severely.'"

"That's when Debra leaned over and said to me, He's not talking to you slave. I am. If you don't make her cum by the time your tattoo is finished, I will make the pain you are feeling now seem like a soft massage.'"

"I couldn't imagine greater pain than what I was already feeling, but after Debra left, I tried really hard to make Kelly cum. She kept moving herself so that I couldn't reach her clit with my tongue. A couple of times she moved so far forward on me that her asshole was firmly over my mouth. The second or third time she did that, I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and penetrated her ass. She gasped and stopped moving around and began to push down against my tongue. I buried as deep as I could go into her and wiggled my face from side to side to force her to move with me. Once she was rocking with me, I started moving up her cunt toward her clit. When she slid down a little so I could reach it, I knew I had her."

"I had Kelly on the brink of orgasm. She was panting and moaning loudly, but before I could push her over the edge, David got to the soles of my feet with that damn tattoo gun. I have never felt such pain before in my life. I forgot all about Kelly and went back to screaming my head off. A little while after that, I must have blacked out from the pain and woke up back on Ward Seven with this vine and slave brand tattooed on me."

Cassie giggled like a little girl and smiled broadly at me. "Do you know what I did then? Do you know? Do you?"

She was practically bouncing up and down. "I made the doctors show me the security videos of my supposed seizure. There I am sitting in the sun room all by myself not moving... not responding to anything around me... almost not even breathing... and then suddenly I am standing there naked screaming my head off. One instant I am dressed, and the next my clothes are gone, my hair is gone, and I am wearing nothing but this tattoo. They fired the orderly on duty - said he had to have doctored the tapes - but there is this little clock that runs in the corner of the tape and it doesn't even miss a tenth of a second, and they never did find my hair or my clothes."

"You know what I told them while they were sitting there with their mouths open? You know what I told them... what I told them? I told them Explain that! you pompous bastards!'"

Her giggles faded into silence, then she continued, "That's when they took the disk out of the machine and had me taken to lock-down away from the general population. As the orderly was taking me out of the room I heard one of them say, Doesn't Dr. Henderson have a case just like this across town? Maybe we should send Cassie over there and let him deal with it. Who knows maybe her Brenda and his Wayne know each other.' Then they both started laughing uproariously like they had just told the funniest joke anyone had ever heard."

Casssie smoothed down her smock and looked me directly in the eyes, "So..., is it true? Does Wayne come to get you like Brenda comes and gets me? They do know each. You know they do. Brenda chose Wayne to come up on stage with her. And that was Kelly - your Kelly, that I was driving wild with my tongue. So..., is it true?"

I sat for quite a while thinking about how to answer her. I knew that sometimes our conversations were monitored, and I didn't want to give Dr. Henderson any more ammunition to extend my in-house stay. I could hear him dictating his notes in my mind as I considered my response. "The subject obstructed the progress of a fellow resident patient by reinforcing her delusion and assuring her that her fantasy was reality and that her hallucinations were real."

Finally I spoke. I tried to keep my voice very level and devoid of emotion. "The vine on your left leg begins with a blazing orange sun on the ball of your foot. The vine wiggles down the sole of your foot and goes up directly in the middle of the back of your heel. The face on the sun is a woman's face contorted in anger. The vine on your right leg begins with a soft yellow moon. The face on the moon is also female and is also contorted, but it is obviously the face of a woman in the throes of a tremendous orgasm. That vine goes only halfway down the sole of your foot before curling up across the top of your foot to your ankle."

Cassie's eyes went wide as she looked down at the shoes on her feet. She knew that there was no way that I could see the beginning point of the tattoos. "You were there!" she breathed heavily. "You saw it!"

"I didn't say that," I responded, looking around. "But let me tell you what happened to me about two weeks ago."

Cassie's eyes widened in recognition of what I was saying - or not saying - and she relaxed back in her chair as I continued, "I was here, as I often am, two weeks ago, when I went into one of my catatonic states. Suddenly I was Kelly. Kelly only pulls me in when she is about to experience something that she doesn't think that she can handle on her own. I had no idea what was happening, or where I was, because everything was happening so fast. There was no lead up to anything. I was just suddenly Kellly, naked at the edge of a spotlight on a small stage in the middle of a darkened supper club of some sort. My slit was pressed against the mouth of a woman who was bent backwards over a large round cylinder of some sort. There was someone working between her legs with something that was buzzing loudly, and she was screaming her head off. She was also throwing her head back and forth between my legs and biting and licking at my cunt lips. I don't know how long it had been going on, but I was already on the brink. What was happening was more than enough to drive me over the edge, and I knew that for some reason it was very, very important that I not orgasm. I had to hold on. I had to stay in control, but her screams and her thrashing and whatever she had done before I joined Kelly were too much for me. I collapsed on top of her in a tremendous orgasm."

"I was laying against the bound woman's stomach, drenched in my own sweat, when I heard Wayne's voice, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly... didn't I tell you that this was not for your pleasure? Didn't I warn you that if you didn't control yourself, you would be punished severely?'"

"He pulled me to my feet, slapped my ass and ordered, Stand there with your hands on your head and your legs spread while David finishes with Cassandra, then we will see to your punishment.'"

"I looked down at the girl strapped to the cylinder. She was unconscious and David was working on the portion of a tattoo that was on the soles of her feet. Almost done,' came a voice from between her legs."

"A few moments later a bearded face appeared and looked directly at me. He turned slightly to the side and asked, What d'ya got in mind, Wayne?.. Something extensive or a little more subdued in a really tender spot?'"

"He stroked his beard for a moment or two and then sat up straight and said, I've got it. Why don't we give her two twats? Never done that before, but I can see it in my mind. All it has to do is flow down my arm to the needle and it's done. Gonna hurt like hell, though, but I'm 'maginin' that's what you're looking for.'"

"A Mistress with a sultry voice said, Take Cassie down to my room. I will deal with her later.'"

"Two burly men in black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirts stepped forward and began releasing the young woman's arms and legs from the straps on the cylinder."

" And put Kelly in her place,' added Wayne, Face down, and make sure her legs are spread really wide.'"

"The men did as Debra and Wayne had instructed and I found myself wrapped tightly around the large cylinder with my legs spread as far apart as possible. I felt someone's finger touching my anus and heard Wayne's voice, This is what got you in trouble, Kelly, and this is what is going to feel the pain of this punishment.'"

"Wayne then stepped around in front of me and looked me in the eyes. Do you think that you are better than Cassie, Kelly? I think you are. And here is how we are going to prove it. While David tattoos your asshole, you are going to suck me off nice and slow. You are not going to lose control and bite me or stop giving me pleasure in any way. If you do,... well you might just spend the rest of your life on that barrel... and the club closes in three hours.'"

"Wayne had never threatened my life before, and I was pretty sure that he was just saying it to impress his fellow Masters and Mistresses, but I also knew that no matter what, I had better give him the best blow job he had ever had. I almost lost it when the needles first hit my puckered hole. I once had the distinct misfortune of digging through a ground hornets nest with a hand spade. I ended up with a couple dozen angry hornets up my pants and by the time I got my jeans off and washed away the hornets with a garden hose, I had well over a hundred stings in my upper legs and groin. This hurt way worse than that did. I might have lost it except for the fact that when David started my head lunged forward driving Wayne's prick half-way down my throat. That reminded me what I was supposed to be doing, and despite the pain, I started sucking and slurping."

"I divided my mind between going into the pain to become one with it and going into the satisfaction of fulfilling my master's wish for the perfect blow job. That sounds all Zenny,' but it worked, and about fifteen minutes later Wayne erupted into my mouth just as David called out loudly, It's done and a better looking ass-cunt I've never seen.'"

"The two men in black came back up on stage and released me. I could barely walk, but Wayne took me around to each table and had me face away from the table and bend over and touch my toes so that the people at the table could see my new tattoo. Several reached out and stroked the insides of my ass cheeks. One person remarked, You almost expect to be able to feel the labia, the detail is so exact.'"

"Someone at one of the tables took a picture, and Wayne had me look at it on the camera's viewer. It was strangely distorted, but my asshole looked just like a cunt. After we had made the rounds of all of the tables, Wayne took me back up on stage and made me stand with my legs spread under the spotlight. Then he guided my hands down so that I was "bear walking" on the stage with my ass high in the air. Stay there, Kelly, until I am ready to go,' he ordered and disappeared back into the darkness. A little while later, I woke up back here as myself."

Cassie's face bunched up as if she were thinking about what to say next and then suddenly she blurted out, "But do they believe you?"

I stood up and faced away from Cassie. "Dr. Hendersen added an additional forty-five days of observation to my stay because I won't tell him how I got this."

I lowered my slacks and bent over so that Cassie could see my ass-cunt tattoo, and then quickly stood up and brought my clothing back to an "acceptable level of dress for the open areas of the ward." Two orderlies had started over toward me, but stopped when I re-dressed myself and sat back down. "Something you have to understand, Cassie. It isn't a matter of whether or not they believe me... or you. The question is which reality they believe. And unlike you and me, they believe that only one can be real. But the truth is this, they have their reality and I - we - have ours.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Four of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 05 - The Pony Farm

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I was finally back at my apartment and things were going pretty well for me - pretty well meaning that I hadn't done anything in public that would get me sent back to the ward. Dr. Henderson was trying another medication and he said that he was "very hopeful."

I think that what he is actually hopeful for is a big paycheck if he and the drug companies can come up with something that will control "seizure-based schizophrenia." That is what they are calling it now that they have both Cassie and me as "confirmed case studies."

Cassie wasn't too thrilled with having that diagnosis attached to her, but after I told her that they could have called it "Cassie's Syndrome" or something like that, she accepted the new label. I also explained to her that the plus side of the label was that having an official-sounding diagnosis also meant that she could be officially transferred from penal care to psychiatric care. That means that she, like me, could get to go home, at least for a little while, between in house stays.

This morning, I was waiting at the bus stop when Cassie walked up and sat down beside me. I greeted her with, "I thought you were still at the ward. Good to see you out and about."

"Wayne and Debra sent me," she answered quietly. "They said that it is important and that they need us there immediately." After she finished speaking, she got up and began to walk down the block.

I got up quickly and hurried after her. As I caught up with her, Cassie smiled at me and explained, "Debra said that they wanted all four of us or they might not win the race - whatever that means. Wayne is waiting around the corner with a van."

As we turned the corner a large, black van pulled up alongside us. The door swung open and Kelly said, "Get in."

The rear seats were positioned so that they faced each other. A young, girl with short, blond hair sat across from Kelly. Cassie pointed to the blond and said, "That's Billie. I guess you know Kelly." She then got in, sat next to Billie and motioned for me to sit next to Kelly.

A deep, female voice from the front passenger seat said, "And I'm Mistress Debra, but we have already met, haven't we?"

"Sort of," I answered. "I was with Kelly that night and have the ass-cunt to prove it."

Debra laughed. "I'm never sure if Cassie is with Billie or Billie is with Cassie, but the effect is the same, isn't it Billie?"

The blond girl's eyes went wide as she heard her name.

"Show him."

Billie was wearing a short, white dress with white tights. She started to lift her dress and push down the top of her tights.

"All of it! Now!"

Billie immediately pulled the dress over her head and stood, as best she could, between the seats and slid her tights to the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra, so when she stepped out of the tights, she was totally naked. She sat back down on the seat opposite me and spread her legs slightly so that her entire pubic area was visible. The large "Debra's Slut" with the inter-twined green vines and red roses was identical to what Cassie had showed me that day in the ward. What I hadn't seen on Cassie was that the vines crossed beneath the words and ran directly across her cunt and pussy lips. One labia had even been tattooed totally green to form a leaf on the vine. The vines then went between her legs toward the back.

Debbie looked up at me and asked, "OK?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, but Cassie answered, "Yes, he's seen that much of it."

Debbie turned and knelt between the benches and lay over the seat where she had just been sitting. The vines came between her legs like a thong. She reached down and spread her ass cheeks slightly so that I could see that the vines circled her puckered anus before climbing up onto her back.

On the small of her back there was a large "Tramp Stamp" tattoo with ornate lettering intertwined with the vines and roses. This section of the tattoo was a double name reflected above itself. On the top it read Debbie & Cassie, but the upside down "mirror image" beneath it had Cassie beneath Debbie and Debbie beneath Cassie. After a few moments, she lifted up her feet slightly so that I could clearly see the beginnings of both vines and the faces of the two women contorted in pleasure and pain.

"You may dress," came the voice from the front seat. "But no tights. Just the dress." Mistress Debra chuckled softly and added, "It will all be coming off soon enough anyway."

After that, we all sat in silence as we made a series of twists and turns out of town and down several different country roads until we finally came to a large, white, filigreed iron gate with a large, ornate arch over it that read, "Polly's Pony Farm - Private Property - Entrance by Invitation Only."

We must have been invited, because as soon as Wayne rolled down his window and looked directly into the security camera, the gate swung open and a voice from the speaker said, "Welcome Master Wayne and Mistress Debra. May your ponies bring you honor in today's races."

As I looked from Kelly to Cassie to Billie, I hoped that my face did not show the same look of fear and shock as their's did. None of us had ever been pony trained and if we were expected to bring "honor" to Wayne and Debra, things could go very badly for us today.

Wayne must have seen - or felt - our fear and said in what sounded like a re-assuring voice, "Don't worry. You don't have to win."

Then he added firmly, "You just better not lose! Debra and I have a sizable bet going with a couple of pony masters. They say that it takes years of training and conditioning to make a good pony team. I say it just takes four very good and obedient slaves who are willing to give everything they've got because their master expects it of them."

He laughed and added, "That, and the proper controls."

Somehow that wasn't very reassuring. Kelly, Cassie, Billie and I were going to be in some sort of team race against highly-trained ponies and all we had to do was "not lose."

"What happens if we lose?" asked Kelly.

"You really don't want to find out," came the answer from Debra.

The van stopped next to a very long barn with a large number of paddock doors along the side. Over one set of doors it said, "D&W Farms."

"Let's get you all tacked out," said Wayne in a matter-of-fact voice.

It always worried me when Wayne went cool and business-like. That meant he was really angry or really worried. Since we hadn't given him any reason to be angry, I assumed that he was worried. The coolness might also mean that he was afraid, but I had never seen him fear anything.

"Leave the clothes in the van," ordered Debra as we started to step out onto the soft ground. Billie was already almost naked. Kelly, Cassie and I quickly stripped down and threw our clothes back onto the seats of the van as Wayne called out. "In here."

When we walked into the barn, Wayne was holding a strange-looking leather arrangement in his hands. "What is going to make this work," he began, "are these special harnesses. They are fitted with electronic devices that will signal you as to what we want you to do. Come here, Kelly and we will demonstrate."

Kelly stepped over by Wayne and he guided her to step through the leather straps and slip them up her body. There were no buckles or adjustments on the two straps that went up over her shoulders much like a pair of suspenders. A double leather strap went between her legs, but did not really cover her cunt or asshole. It must have been made especially for her because the entire rig fit her naked body exactly.

I tried to hide my smile as I pictured Borat's mankini made of leather in my mind. I didn't think now was the time to look happy.

In addition to the main harness, there was a wide belt of sorts that snapped around her waist and another small belt that circled her chest exactly at breast level and crossed the suspender straps exactly over her nipples. On the back of the belt was a small, square, black plastic box with wires running from it to inside the leather straps.

"That's the basic harness," explained Debra. "Now the extras." She held up a large plastic dildo that had two shinny metal stripes down opposites sides. She smeared a large amount of anal lube on it and said, "This isn't just to make it easier to slide in. This stuff also helps electrical contact."

Turning to Kelly she ordered, "Spread you legs."

Kelly did, and Mistress Debra slowly pushed the dildo in place in Kelly's cunt. It was quite large and Kelly grunted a few times as it was put in place. Debra then picked up a slightly smaller butt plug and also smeared it with lube.

"Bend over."

Again, Kelly did as ordered and the butt plug was slid into place with a gasp from Kelly as the large head stretched her nether hole. There was a large horse's tail attached to the butt plug that exactly matched the color of the hair on Kelly's head. When Kelly stood back up, Wayne reached down between her legs, and I could hear something that sounded like snaps clicking into place.

"These attach to the two straps between her legs. The straps hold them in place and connects them to the control box."

He held up a small remote controller device. "All I have to do is move this joystick forward and you receive a shock in the ass telling you to get moving."

Kelly jumped slightly as he moved the control in his hand. "If I pull it back, the shock in the front tells you to slow down or stop." As he said "stop" he pulled the joystick all the way back and Kelly yelped in pain. "As you can see, the shock level can be anything from a slight tingle to a real attention getter. All you have to do is move away from the shock."

He wiggled the joystick slightly to the left and Kelly bounced slightly as electricity poured into her right nipple. She instinctively moved slightly to the left to escape the shock, but since it was coming from the harness, there was no escaping the pain as she slowly turned in a circle to her left.

"There are a few more items to your tack," explained Wayne, "but we will wait until you are hitched up to put on the headdress, blinders and binders."

Debra signaled for Cassie to come to her and Wayne beckoned me with his finger. Soon Cassie, Debbie and I were outfitted exactly as Kelly had been - well, not exactly. What I had in front was a wide crotch strap with a hole in it that my penis stuck through. I could feel the cold metal on either side of the hole pressing against my pubic bone and holding my testicles tightly against my body.

"Quick test," said Wayne and I jumped forward as a sharp shock tightened my asshole around the anal plug. I moved to the left as the shocks hit my right nipple and then to the right as my left nipple tingled from the electricity. I then screamed and almost fell to the ground as a thousand tiny ants bit into my testicles all at once.

"Oh, forgot the lube to make the connection solid." muttered Wayne. He tossed me the tube of lube and said, "Squirt some of this down there and rub in around on your balls and then we will try again."

I did as he had ordered and as soon as my hand was pulled back out of the belt, I felt a painful, but bearable, tingling.

"That's better. This is for control, not punishment. You have to be able to respond to the command and still stay in the race."

My face evidently showed my relief, but Wayne added ominously, "But if I kick this up to maximum, it will still fry your balls."

He pulled the joystick all the way back for just an instant, and I dropped to the floor with my hands grabbing between my legs.

"Time to hitch up," said Debra. "Wayne, if you will pull the cart outside, we can make the final adjustments."

There were several somewhat strange looking carts sitting toward the back of the stall area. The one that Wayne pulled out looked like a cross between a sulky and a chariot. It had a low platform like a chariot, but had two seats mounted so that Wayne and Debra would be sitting much like a jockey in a sulky race. Rather than having two poles that would connect to a trotter, there were three poles forming two slots for the "ponies."

Wayne put Kelly into the right hand slot at the back with me in front of her. Billie was in the back of the left hand slot with Cassie in front of her.

Short chains connected our belts to the poles on either side of us. Once we were in place and connected to the cart, Debra ordered, "Hands behind your backs... palms together." She then slipped a binding glove up over our arms and tightened it in place.

After that, Wayne brought out several "head pieces." When he had mentioned headdresses and blinders, I had assumed some sort of feathers and maybe the large, square "blinders" that were used on horses. These were total head coverings with no eye or ear holes. A large black plume of feathers stuck straight up from the back of the bondage hoods. We were going to be running totally blind and deaf with only the electric shocks providing any direction.

I think there was a reason why Wayne waited until our hands were bound and we were chained to the cart before showing us the head pieces. If I had seen what they were, or known what was expected of us, I probably could not have controlled myself and would have run away as fast as I could. Now that we were chained in place, it was too late.

We stood waiting for several minutes while Wayne and Debra did something, and then I could feel the upward pull on the poles which indicated that someone was climbing into the cart. A second, lighter pull told me that a second person, probably Debra, had stepped up into the cart.

After a short period of movement indicating that the two people were seating themselves in the drivers' seats, the downward weight returned to the poles. Shortly after that, I felt a light tingle in my asshole indicating that we were supposed to start moving forward. A couple more light shocks and we were loping forward. A tingle in my right nipple and we began to turn to the left.

We had no way of knowing where we were going, but as we turned, the tingle stopped, so we stopped turning and continued straight ahead. A few more lefts and rights and then a tingle in my balls brought us to a stop. A couple of short pops to the ass moved us forward... evidently too far, because after we were stopped, there was a quick jolt to the front. We all stepped back one step, and after a very short shock, we stepped back one more step.

We could see nothing and hear only a slight murmur from the crowd as we stood and waited. Suddenly there was a loud bang - perhaps a starter's pistol - followed immediately by a hefty shock to the ass. Billie, Cassie, Kelly and I started running. We kept increasing speed until the shocks to the ass stopped.

The fact that we kept turning left again and again meant that we were on a track of some kind. Occasional adjustments slightly to the right or left probably meant that we were passing someone. It was impossible to know if we had been passed, but strong shocks in my ass told me that either we were in danger of being passed or Wayne really wanted to pass someone just in front of us.

Just as I was starting to think that I could run no further, a series of intense pulses made it clear that Wayne expected one last burst of speed from us. I don't know if it was the pain or the fact that I knew that Wayne needed me to go faster, but somehow I found the strength. So must have the others, because I could tell that we were again gaining speed.

I had no idea what was happening, but we could hear that the crowd was now shouting, almost screaming, as we ran. Suddenly the noise became even louder. I could hear loud noises that sounded like fireworks exploding above us. It took a moment to realize that I was being shocked from the front as a slow down signal. Evidently Wayne could tell that we were not feeling the signal, because he gave one really strong shock, followed by lesser ones to get us to rein in.

Gentle tingling told us to slow down until we were walking. After a series of left and right turns, the tingling in front became continuous and we stopped. The cart rocked as Wayne and Debra got out. I stood there breathing very heavily, and soon I felt someone's hands loosening the headpiece and slipping it from my head.

Wayne and Debra stood before us. Wayne was wearing something that looked vaguely like a Roman Centurion's outfit. Brenda was wearing a black cat suit with a very short, gray miniskirt. Both were smiling very broadly.

"You didn't lose," said Wayne.

"In fact," added Debra, "you won!"

"We had a bet with Mistress Diane and Master Edward. If I didn't lose the blind team race, but they beat us, money would change hands. I had money bets with all of the Masters and Mistresses in the race, but the main bet was with Diane and Edward. If we had lost, we would be where you are in the individual races later today. I would have been pulling Mistress Diane's cart and Debra would have been pulling Master Edward's."

He was grinning pretty broadly now. "I was pretty sure we wouldn't lose, but I really didn't expect to win."

Debra laughed. "Diane and Edward didn't expect us to win either. In the singles race this afternoon, she will be pulling my cart and Edward will be pulling Wayne's. That is even more humiliating for them that it would have been for us. They are part owners of this pony farm."

"As small as the chance was," said Wayne, "I did plan for the possibility that we might win."

He held up a golden head dress. This one was not a bondage hood, but was instead a helmet style with a large golden plume above it.

"As soon as we get these on you, we are going to take a victory lap in front of the crowd. I want you to prance for me - keep those knees up high as we go around the track. Let's show these fancy pony people how really well-trained you actually are."

Wayne and Debra quickly put the headdresses on the four of us and stepped back into the cart. Wayne was sitting in one of the seats. Debra stood beside him holding a pole on which hung a blue and white flag that said, "D & W Pony Farms."

A gentle jolt told us to get moving. We trotted rapidly back to the track guided by very gentle twinges to our nipples that told us whether to turn right or left. Once we were on the track, several quick pops to the ass told us to come up to speed. We ran with our knees up high. The crowd was roaring its approval. Wayne and Debra were waving to the crowd.

At the end of the lap, we turned back toward the barns. As we rounded the final corner, suddenly the loud yelp of a siren screamed into my ears. A voice that sounded like it came from a bull-horn barked, "Stop running. Stand still. You are going to hurt yourself."

I looked around. I was in the street about two blocks from the bus stop. I was naked with my hands clasped behind my back. A police car was right behind me and a uniformed officer was running along side me.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked, this time not through the bull horn "Do you know where you are going?"

"I have a feeling I'm going back to the ward," I answered.

Someone had called 9-1-1 when I wasn't responding to anything as I sat on the bench. Just as the patrol car came around the corner, I bolted from the bench and started pony prancing down the middle of the street. The driver had pulled the squad car right up behind me to keep me from being run over and his partner jumped out and ran along side me until I came to."

The office who had been running after me was still trying to catch his breath as we got back to the bus stop. He looked around the bench and was surprised that he couldn't find any of my clothes. "Where in the hell did you put your clothes?" he gasped, "And how in the hell did you get out of them so fast while you were running?"

In answer to his question, I gave him my name and asked that he call Dr. Henderson. I figured I might as well speed up the process since that is where I was going to end up anyway.

I was right. They threw a blanket over me, and fifteen minutes later were turning me over to an admissions clerk at the ward.

As she took me down the hallway, Mike, the orderly, called to me from one of the rooms. "We have everything ready for you... even have some sweats and a top laid out on the bed."

I looked at him quizzically and he explained, "I had to chase Cassie down three hallways a little while ago. Once we got her calmed down and dressed, she told us that you would probably be coming in pretty soon. Doc told her that she was just hallucinating again, but I've seen what happens around you two and decided to get your room ready."

I told him thank you, and then he said something really strange - even for the ward. "Doc has his reality and you and Cassie have yours. Some of us are content to just stand at the border between the two and watch the fun. I hear you won the race. Good for you."

He winked at me and strolled off down the hallway back into his own version of reality.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Five of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 06 - We Are Not Alone

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Pony prancing up the middle of the street naked resulted in me being sent back to in house treatment until I was once again "no longer a threat to myself or others around me."

Dr. Henderson testified at the committal hearing. I'm not sure if he was for the defense or the prosecution. He explained that when I am in one of my states, I am not an overt threat to others or myself, but I am not aware of the reality around me. Thus, I could significantly injure myself or others. In his most expert-witness-called-to- testify voice, he explained to the judge, "During these episodes, he almost seems to be in his own personal reality."

Detective Mendes stated it a little more clearly, "Yeah, I am familiar with nutjob. For the most part he is totally harmless, but weird shit happens around him and to him. And for some reason they always call me when he flips out somewhere."

One of the two arresting officers also testified - the one who ran alongside me until I came back to this reality. "He wasn't threatening anybody, but he had definitely placed himself in danger. We got a 911 from a citizen that someone was frozen up at the bus stop and they were concerned about him. As we approached, he was just sitting there on the bus stop bench. Then all of a sudden he is out in the middle of the street prancing like a show pony, naked as a jaybird. We pulled up behind him to keep him from being struck by traffic and I ran along side him shouting at him through our bullhorn. He didn't seem to be able to hear me even when I was almost in his ear."

"We went about four blocks before he snapped out of it. Never did find his clothes. He told us to call Dr. Henderson and take him out to the psych hospital on the west side. I recognized his name from talk at the station house and knew that Detective Mendes had experience with him. We checked with Detective Mendes, and he said.... well, I won't repeat exactly what he said, but he told us to just take him back to the ward."

That was a couple months ago. If I can make ninety days with no episodes, they will have to hold a review hearing, and maybe I will get to go home again. I have been trying to stay on my best behavior so they won't have an excuse to cycle me through another course of treatment.

On day 67, I was sitting in the day room after supper pretending to watch TV. They normally leave us more or less alone for a couple of hours after supper while the staff catches up on paperwork and what not. The ward clerk behind the glass has the remote control, so we have to watch whatever he or she wants us to watch, but since a happy ward is a quiet ward, they usually let us watch whatever most of us - or at least the loudest of us - want to see.

Evidently none of us were loud enough because "Bleeding Heart Heather" had some sappy movie on that I had no desire to watch. Neither did most of the other residents because there was an unusually high level of conversation and chatter, and no one was complaining that they couldn't hear the TV.

That high level of background buzz must have made Cassie feel safe enough to come sit next to me and start a conversation. Usually whenever we sat next to each other, the ward clerk would start flipping the switches at the desk that would activate the "patient safety monitoring system."

According to Dr. Henderson, Cassie and I were "high risk residents" with "episodic manifestations of delusions dangerous to ourselves and to others."

The judge agreed, and that gave them carte-blanche authority to monitor and record any of our conversations. They even had a code word that we weren't supposed to know to tip off the clerk that the monitoring system should be turned on. Code words are nice, but you only have to hear "fire and ice" spoken into an attendant's radio handset a couple of times to figure out what it means - especially since they only said it when Cassie and I were sitting close to each other somewhere. Cassie claims that she is "Fire" and I am "Ice." Whatever.

Once, we intentionally sat right next to each other on the far side of the day room directly across from the ward clerk's window. We moved our mouths as though we were speaking, but made no sounds. The next day, a technician came to repair the "paging system." One repair tech carefully checked each "speaker" while another tech sat at the clerk's desk with headphones plugged into the console.

While they were working, Mike, the orderly, saw us sitting together on the couch watching and giggling. He came over to us, leaned in close, and said in his deep voice, "You know, one day they're going to figure out that crazy ain't stupid." He gave us both a big grin and added, "Until then, have fun." Then he laughed again and walked on into one of the hallways.

We had our proof that they were monitoring us, and now we knew for certain where all of the microphones were located. Tonight Cassie was relying on the buzz of conversation, and the fact that we were not sitting near any of the paging speakers. She leaned in close to me and said quietly, "cold water." That was the supposedly secret code word for the clerk to shut down the monitoring system.

She moved slightly so that we were facing each other. Like most people who have spent a lot of time in various institutions, we could both read lips fairly well. It helps you keep track of what they are saying behind the windows. It also means that we can talk very softly and not be picked up on the monitoring system even if they did go all "fire and ice" on us.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

"Do you think there are more of us?"

I looked at her rather quizzically, and she continued, "I thought I was the only one, and then I met you. Perhaps there are others out there like us. You know, people who are sometimes somewhere else with... or inside someone else. Do you think there is any way that we could find out?"

"What did you have in mind?"

She grinned, and I knew that she already had a plan hatching in her mind.

"Both Kelly and Debbie say that they can summon us by thinking of us when they need us. What if we tried to think of someone like us - or someone like Kelly and Debbie. Maybe they could come here or we could go there. I'm afraid to try it alone, so it hasn't worked. But if we both try at the same time, maybe we will stay together."

I glanced over at the desk. The clerk was filling out daily forms and not paying any attention to us. "When do you want to try this?"

"No time like the present," she replied and spun to plop down and sit right alongside me. "Let's do it. I've given this a lot of thought. All we have to do is close our eyes and concentrate on finding a slave in need. There has to be one out there somewhere."

Sitting next to me, she was now speaking loudly enough to be heard over the background noise. The ward clerk set down his paperwork and looked out the window. I saw his hand reaching over to the console on his desk.

I mouthed "fire and ice" at Cassie and closed my eyes. I felt her settle against me and then suddenly I was in hot water. I don't mean that I was in trouble; I was literally in hot water. I was under water and it was HOT.

I kept my eyes closed and held my breath, hoping that I could eventually get to the surface. I tried to bring my hands to my face, but found that my arms were stretched out and tied at a level slightly above my head. It felt like I was moving upward in the water, at least the water seemed to be flowing downward on my body.

My hands broke the surface of the water and shortly afterwards, my face and head were back in the air. I opened my mouth and drew in a big gulp of air. After shaking my head to clear some of the water from my face, I opened my eyes.

We were in a large cavern somewhere. I knew Cassie was also there, even though I could not see her, or anyone else. As I continued to rise out of the water, I became aware that I was somehow tied to a big, square frame. I was standing on a large pipe at the bottom of the square with my legs spread and strapped to the pipes which were upright on either side of me. My hands were pulled taut above me and strapped to the corners where the upright pipes met the large pipe which crossed over my head. Two thick chains were attached to the top pipe about a foot apart directly over my head. I was like a giant X in a metal tic-tac-toe square.

Whatever mechanism was lifting me was smooth and silent. The frame turned slightly in the air and moved sideways several feet. Suddenly, it dropped rapidly back into the water..., but it was not the same water. It was icy cold. I tried to scream as I plunged into the water, but before I could, my head was under water.

I don't know how cold the water was, but since I had just been in hot water this felt really cold. I could feel my penis shrinking until it was almost up inside of me. At least I was either myself or I was with a male. I held my breath and closed my eyes.

Cold is a different kind of pain. Some people like it. I do not. I had no idea where I was, but I was fairly sure that I was being punished.

There was a "clunk" as the frame hit the bottom of the tank. I tilted slightly forward as the chains went just a little slack. Then I was rising upward again. As soon as my head cleared the water, I took in a deep breath and looked around to see more of what was happening. The first thing I did was look up at my left arm. If there was a long scar on the inside of my forearm, I was me. If not, then I would have to find out who I was with.

There was a scar. I was me. And a little to my right was another frame with a naked girl strapped in it. There was no doubt that it was Cassie. There might be another sub who looks like her, but that huge tattoo up her legs and across her cunt made it certain. I saw that there was another frame behind Cassie, and looking quickly around, I spied a fourth frame to my left.

As I swung upward and moved, I realized that all four of us were suspended from what looked like a giant carousel. There were four tanks arranged under the arms of the carousel, and it was rotating and moving us backwards over the tanks. I thought that it would dunk me into the next tank, but instead it kept rotating.

Moving backward can be a little disorienting, so I lost track of which tank I had just come out of. Then I started rapidly descending. I was bracing myself for hot water, and as my feet touched the surface, I thought that I could feel the burning heat - but I was wrong. A little further into the water and my body finally recognized that I was back in freezing water. It was worse that when I had gone from hot to cold. My body wasn't really expecting anything that time. This time, I was expecting fire and got ice.

I was shivering badly by the time I was once again pulled out of the water. I was afraid that I might unintentionally open my mouth, but I didn't. As I rose once again from the water, I looked out into the semi- darkness that surrounded us. What I had originally taken to be a cavern was, in fact, a huge tent, like a circus would use. There was an audience, but they were not a buch of rubes seated on cheap circus-style bleachers. They were fashionably dressed and were gathered around small tables in comfortable chairs. Some of the tables had the remains of a meal on them. Others just had a few drink glasses. As best as I could figure, we were part of the entertainment at some BDSM dinner theater somewhere.

As I was dropping again, I was trying to not brace myself for hot or cold, but to just experience whatever it was. It was HOT! It was probably the same temperature as the first tank. It might have even been the first tank, but my body was chilled to the bone by the two cycles in the ice water. I felt like I was being boiled alive. Since the first tank hadn't scalded me, the water temperature was probably below 130 degrees F, but that is still damn hot even if you aren't pre-frozen. This time I managed to scream before my head went under water.

Once again, the frame clunked as it hit bottom and shortly afterwards we were all pulled back up into the air. This time, however, the carousel did not rotate. It moved sidewards like a giant, factory ceiling crane. Once we were over a different ring of this weird circus, it lowered us to the ground.

"Masters and Mistresses," boomed the voice of the ringmaster. That concludes our demonstration of William's Water World Carousel. Prices and availability are listed in the brochure packets you all received at your tables."

"Enjoy your drinks and conversations while our animal trainers remove our pets from their frames and we set up William's Water World Ferris Wheel. I assure you that there are a thousand and one ways to use this marvelous device for pain... and pleasure."

Four figures in tight-fitting black outfits with sequin patterns on them came up behind us and started unstrapping us from the frames. We were then herded into a cage at the edge of the ring.

"Where did you come from?" asked one of the other slave - a male who had been strapped to the frames. "Frank and Annie didn't renew their contract with William, and we were going to have to do everything double in order to complete the demonstration."

"I didn't think I could do it," said the female. "Our contracts say that we will give the full demonstration for each sales show. William said a new pair of slaves will be here tomorrow, but that doesn't help us today. Some pain turns me on. That's why I'm here, but too much pain becomes... just pain. I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to do the finale."

I must have looked like I had a question, because the female responded, "At the end of the show, if we have performed properly, William will reward us by allowing us to couple in the center ring. While we are fucking, he is out among the tables making sales. He says that he wants to show the Masters and Mistresses that slaves need pleasure as well as pain."

"What he really wants," continued the male slave, "is for the Masters and Mistresses to be so turned on that they will buy all of his monstrously overpriced toys."

One of the trainers banged a long club against the cage. "Come out of there one at a time. Go and stand on the platform in front of the wheel with your back to the wheel. After we get the first one attached, the second one comes out, not before."

He then opened the door to the cage and cracked a long whip. The male slave walked out into the ring and climbed a small ladder next to a long, rectangular water tank with a huge Ferris-wheel like mechanism above it. He stood on a small platform over the water and leaned back against the wheel. Two more trainers came over and began strapping his arms to the wheel high above his head.

They then rotated the wheel slightly until his feet were just barely touching the platform. With his body tightly stretched, they wrapped a large band across his waist just above his hips, and another on his legs just above the knees. Then the wheel was rotated a little further until his feet were totally off the platform. They were strapped to the sides of the wheel.

The door to the cage opened again and the trainer snapped his whip. The female slave walked out and climbed up onto the platform. She was attached to the wheel just as the male slave had been. The door opened again. This time the trainer pointed at me with his whip before he loudly cracked it just above my head. Having watched the other two slaves, I knew what was expected of me, and soon I was firmly strapped to the wheel. The wheel was rotated until I was on my back staring up at the ceiling of the tent. I heard the crack of the whip and felt slight movement which I assumed was Cassie climbing up onto the platform.

"What is unique about this carousel," boomed William, "is that it is capable of giving pleasure or pain..., of creating fear or passion. Watch and see."

The Ferris wheel started rotating. As I rotated down through the bottom, I could see that I was but a few inches above the water. Suddenly my muscles spasmed as electricity jolted through me. Evidently the opposite sides of the wheel could be electrified. I heard Cassie yelp as another jolt went through us. I could almost see her bouncing in her bonds.

That image, and the touch of pain I was experiencing, had the desired effect. I could feel myself growing hard. I couldn't turn enough to see myself, but as I rotated over the top, I could imagine my prick sticking straight up in all its glory.

As I went over top center, I could hear the male slave moaning. It wasn't a moan of pain, but it wasn't exactly a moan of pleasure either. There was a note of fear in his moan. It was like fearful pleasure. Shortly thereafter, I hear the same type of moan from the female slave.

I could never have guessed what was happening, but as I came through bottom center, it was made clear. I was still just inches off the water. The only thing that touched the water was the first inch or so of my rigid prick. And the water was electrified. It was a gentle pulsing throb that almost made me cum, but at the same time, I fully understood that it could also be a jolt as strong as what I had felt earlier. I think my moan was also a moan of fearful pleasure. Cassie rotated through just behind me. Either she did not comprehend the possibility of extreme pain that might lay in the future, or she was turned on by it, because she cried out, "O God, yes. YESSSSSS!"

When I once again rotated to the top and the male slave was on the bottom, I heard a scream of pain that left no doubt as to whether or not there would be strong electrical pulses. Most normal men would have shriveled up into nothing at the sound of that scream, but no one has ever said that I am normal. If anything, my rod became stiffer. The female slave also screamed. I wasn't sure if that was a scream of pleasure or pain. Then I was rotating through the bottom.

As soon as the tip of my prick touched the water, I began screaming. It hurt. It hurt badly. But as my prick descended deeper into the water, and as I went into the pain, I started going into that place where pleasure and pain begin to mix. I nearly came before rotating up out of the water.

Cassie goes that place a lot faster than I do and she cried out one continuous "YESSSSSS!" as she rotated through the water.

I felt movement that I didn't quite understand. The wheel was doing something besides rotating. I wasn't sure what it was until I rotated to the bottom. My prick went into the water much sooner, and it went much deeper into the water. The wheel was lowering. As I continued to rotate, my toes touched the water just as my prick was coming out of the water. The electrical sensations were hovering between pain, pleasure, and pain- pleasure.

A few moments later, the crowd applauded Cassie as she screamed out her "YESSSSSS!"

Shortly after the applause ended, I could hear the male slave screaming, then the female slave, then me. Parts of my face touched the water, as did my nipples and parts of my legs. I'm not sure if the jolts were stronger or I just had more of me in the water, but my whole body shook with each pulse.

This time, I expected Cassie to also scream in pain, but once again the crowd applauded her "YESSSSSS!" as she rotated through the water.

As soon as Cassie yelled out, I could feel the wheel speeding up. My first thought was, "I'm going totally under water this time and they don't want me to drown."

Actually I didn't go totally under the water. There was about an inch of my body that was still clear of the water as I rotated through, but the voltage was higher and the pulses faster. It was as if a million ants with tiny cattle prods marched down my body. I did not say, "YESSSSSS!" But Cassie still did.

The wheel sped up again, and this time I was plunged totally under the water. Amazingly, the only place I really felt the jolts were where my body was going into and out of the water. The portion of my body that was actually under water felt nothing.

This time Cassie's "YESSSSSS!" was followed by a long guttural moaning scream. Cassie was having a tremendous orgasm. As I rotated over the top, I could see that many in the crowd were standing and cheering.

I don't know if that was supposed to be the end of the demonstration, or William just decided that it was a good time to get out into the crowd and sign purchase papers, but the wheel stopped rotating and quickly rose back up to its original position.

The platform was set back in place and Cassie was the first to be unstrapped. "Center of the ring. On your hands and knees." ordered the trainer. Cassie scampered off .

I was then unstrapped. The trainer barked at me, "You'd better make her howl louder than she did on this wheel, or you will be riding this thing all night."

I really didn't need any encouragement. Cassie was crouched down on her elbows and knees and was waving her pussy and asshole at me. I walked quickly over to her and dropped down behind her. As I grasped her waist, my hands almost slipped off. There must have been some sort of oily substance in the water. Maybe it was to help conduct the electricity. For whatever reason it was there, whatever it was, it was very slick.

"In my ass, in my ass," Cassie was almost chanting. As turned on as we both were, and as slick as she was and I was, I had no trouble entering her. I slid easily in, and as soon as I was completely inside her, Cassie began ramming herself back at me. I think the audience could hear the loud, slapping sounds she created each time her ass cheeks made contact with my abdomen.

"Rub me, rub me, rub me," she started chanting, and I lay over her back and reached up between her legs. As soon as my fingers touched her clit, she started moaning and ramming herself even more strongly against me. "Now, now, now," she yelled and I erupted inside of her.

We both collapsed onto the floor of the ring in a wet, sweaty heap..., and the paging system rang out, "All orderlies to the day room. All orderlies to the day room. All orderlies to the day room - stat."

I opened my eyes. The circus was gone. The audience was gone. William and his other two slaves were gone. Our clothes were also gone, and we were lying in the middle of a big, wet, oily spot on the day room carpet. Four hefty, male orderlies began lifting us up to our feet. One of them was Mike.

"We don't need the restraints," he said to the other orderlies. Something about his deep voice commanded respect, and they all stopped. He turned to us and asked - or more accurately stated firmly - "Both of you are going to go nicely back to your own rooms with me, aren't you?"

We both nodded. He turned back to the other orderlies. "You can go back to your own areas now. I can handle this."

We stood there dripping on the carpet and staring at him. "You know you are both in BIG trouble, don't you?"

We nodded.

He chuckled. "You could have at least dried off before you came back. I'm going to have to shampoo that carpet again tonight."

He motioned with his hand for us to follow him. When we got to Cassie's room, he turned and held up his hand for us to stop. "Just a minute. You need to listen to me, hear what I say, and hear it good. Tonight might have been fun, but you need to be very careful opening too many doors. You might end up somewhere you don't want to be. There are crazy people out there, you know. And not everybody is crazy in the same way. There are some realities out there you just don't want to experience."

He then leaned in close and said in his deepest voice, "And I've been to most of them."

I think he has.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Six of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1Tales From The Psych Ward 07 - Again a Witness

BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Detective Antonio Mendes sat at his desk reorganizing his notes on the difficult, high-publicity case, that the papers called "The Roadside Rapist." He was trying to word things properly before he put his report into the computerized records system. When the new system first went into place he had learned the hard way that what you wrote in a notebook in your pocket and what you wrote in a report form on-line were not the same thing. None of the higher-ups ever read your personal notebook.

The buzz of the intercom interrupted his thoughts. He hated that damned, antiquated system, but the Twelfth Precinct was not intended to be a show place. It was a "downtown precinct" that dealt mainly with hookers, low-lifes, and thugs who didn't complain about the squalor that was not much different from the tenements in which they lived.

The voice of the desk clerk was barely understandable through the distortion of the ancient speaker, but Mendes had learned to decipher the garbled speech. The desk clerk spoke in her tired, monotone voice, "Two men here to see you. They asked specifically for you. They say that have information on the Roadside Rapist."

Mendes pushed the talk button. "Give them to McCarthy. I'm not the only one on the task force and I'm buried up to my ass in paperwork right now."

A muffled conversation was slightly audible through the intercom speaker and then the desk clerk replied, "I'm supposed to tell you that it's Nutbag and Wayne and if you don't want to listen to them, he has a very interesting story about steel pipes that he is sure the papers would love to hear."

Mendes considered several emphatic and vulgar responses in three different languages, but instead finally just sighed and pressed the talk button. "Send the son of a bitch up here... And make sure he has a proper escort!"

A few moments later Wayne and I were standing in front of Detective Mendes' desk. A very bored looking officer stood next to me. When the officer spoke, his voice clearly reflected the fact that he resented having to escort us up to homicide. We should have just been given a visitor's ID. It was obvious that I wasn't, after all, a dangerous criminal. Wayne, on the other hand did look somewhat dangerous, but he is not a criminal. The officer spit out his words, "Escort completed, SIR. They're all yours, SIR." With that he turned an walked - or more accurately - stomped away.

Mendes motioned me toward the chair in front of his desk. Wayne had already taken a seat in the corner. The detective's anger and distaste as he looked at me was obvious. He folded his hands with the fingers intertwined and leaned slightly across his desk, "OK, Nutbag. Do you actually have special information about this case? Or are you just here to give me more of your insane delusional drivel?"

"My insane delusional drivel gave you the Baseball Rapists, didn't it?"

Mendes didn't answer me, but stared intently at the stack of folders on his desk for several, very long, minutes. Finally he spoke, "OK. I know that there is a lot of shit here that I don't understand..., and somehow you knew things last time. Maybe you know something this time -- maybe you don't. But even if I believe you, I have to convince others that you have some inside track. So.... tell me something I don't know about this case that you couldn't have heard on the news and then maybe I'll listen."

I tried to hold back my excitement and speak slowly and normally. "First off, what you are calling the first victim is actually the fifth victim."

"No way to prove that."

"All of the victims had pulled over to fix a flat tire."

"That was in the paper."

"The flat tire was always the passenger side rear tire."

"You could have figured that out from pictures or other information in the news."

"All of the tires were punctured by being shot with a .22 caliber, long-rifle bullet."

Mendes froze, his mouth open, his eyes bulging. He looked at me and then down at his notebook and then back up at me and then back down to his notebook. Finally he sputtered out, "I haven't even put that in the computer yet. We were waiting for ballistics to give us some specific answers on the gun. The way we figure it, the perps must pull up alongside the victim's car and one of them leans out the window with a rifle. It has to be a shot from very close range because there are powder burns on the edge of the tires."

"Not perps... perp," I said. Mendes' eyes opened wider. "And she doesn't use a rifle. She has some kind of device that she puts in the wheel well. Then she causes it to drop off after she fires it remotely. You will find it about a mile or so back from where the car pulls over - if you can get there in time tonight. She is going to strike again tonight!"

Mendes pointed his finger at me, "That's one where you are wrong. We know that the interval between rapes is twelve days. That means we have six more days before the next rape."

"Doesn't anyone listen to me? I told you what you are calling the first victim was the fifth. The first woman didn't report it. Six days later the male victim also didn't report it. Six days later there was another woman who did not report the attack. Six days later another man, only this time she tied him to the hood of his car. A passing motorist saw him and stopped. He said that he had been robbed. He told the other driver not to call the police because not much was taken and he didn't want the embarrassment of the story in the papers. Six days after that, the fifth victim, this time a female, was also tied to the hood of the car but her panties were stuffed in her mouth and taped in place. The person who found her called the police to report a rape as soon as they saw her. She was the fifth, not the first victim. Tonight will be the tenth victim."

Mendes was making notes in his notebook. He looked up at me. "Six days, you say. Then we are missing additional victims."

"No, you are ignoring the male victims. Every other victim is a male. You have three female victims twelve days apart and two male victims which were handled as robberies rather than rapes. The victim tonight will be male, and it will be a rape, not a robbery."

Mendes folded his hands over the case folder. "How do you know this? And what do you want from me?"

"You know how I know this. It is just like with Kelly... or with her sister, only this time I am inside the rapist." Mendes nodded and moved his jaw as though chewing. I knew that meant he was weighing what to say next, but before he could speak, I continued. "What I want from you is simple. I want you to lock me up tonight with 24 hour watch and video surveillance. I need to be someplace that I can't leave, and it can be proven where I am."

Mendes laughed, "What... are you afraid that I will think that YOU are this rapist?"

There was a long silence. Then I answered slowly and quietly, "No. I am afraid that I might be this rapist. I am there. I see everything. I know everything. I can't be sure that it isn't actually me. I don't think that I would ever do something like this, but I do spend most of my time living in mental wards, you know. I can't rule out anything"

"OK," replied Mendes, exhaling heavily, "You may not be as crazy as you look. Tell me everything that you know about this."

I paused, trying to put my thoughts into a logical order. "First off, if it's not me, it's a woman. The sensations are similar to what I have felt when I have been in Kelly's body, but different. When I am in Kelly, it is pain and pleasure. With whoever this is, it is more of an intense longing. Do you understand what I mean by that?"

I expected Mendes to make some sarcastic remark, but instead he answered curtly, "You are picking up on the hunter's hunger for his prey. Got that. What else?"

"Her prey," I corrected him. "And the reason that you can't find any DNA or finger prints or any other forensic evidence is that I am wearing a full-body, black, cat suit with an external dildo attachment... and an internal connection to that dildo."

I felt my face reflect my surprise at my own sudden realization. I blurted out, "That's what I am feeling as she rapes them. It's the internal dildo inside my cunt. It is definitely a woman."

Mendes was chewing his words again, but I continued without waiting for him to speak. "My memory of the attacks always begins just outside The Club.' That's a BDSM club downtown where I have been with - or as - Kelly. I am always watching someone get into their car. I think all of the victims are members of the club on their way home. I recognized at least three of the victims as Masters or Mistresses from the club."

"The first one was a Mistress I have seen at the club. She got into her Lexus and headed out toward her mansion. Shortly after she left the main roads and started down the back lanes that lead to her house, I pushed a button on a little box on the seat next to me. I was close enough behind her to hear a loud sound and see a flash of light near the tire area of her car. As soon as I saw the light, I pressed a second button on the box."

"Almost immediately she started to slow down. After a little while, she pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car. I slowed way down and waited until she was out of her car, and then drove up to where she was and stopped. I rolled down my passenger window and called out, Is everything all right.'"

"She came up to the car and leaned over slightly to say through the window, Just a flat tire. Must have hit something on the road. I have someone on the way.'"

"She started to say something else, but was cut off by the impact of the Tazer hitting her on the upper chest. She dropped to the road twitching. I quickly got out of the car and ran over to where she was lying and plunged a hypodermic needle into her shoulder, emptying the full dose of sedative into her before she could recover from the effects of the Tazer."

"Then it was a simple task to strip her totally naked, blindfold her, and bend her over the hood of her car. I ran a rope through the front windows of the car and tied it to her hands to hold her in place. I carefully picked up all evidence of the Tazer and all of her clothing and put them in a red bag with weird markings on it. I've seen the bags before, but I am not sure where. I think in a hospital, but that doesn't narrow it down a whole lot for me."

"After I had everything totally cleaned up, I stood behind her and waited for her to start to come around. I knew it would only be a few moments. As soon as I could sense that she was conscious, I drove myself hard into her cunt and began pumping. The dildo was lubricated, so it slid in easily. She started screaming and thrashing around, but I was already inside her. I kept going until I came from the pressure of the internal dildo. By then, I think that she was starting to respond to the dildo, herself, but I didn't care. She didn't care what I wanted, I didn't care what she wanted."

"I pulled out of her and walked back over to my car. I had a towel on the seat of my car, so I just got in and drove away. I knew that once she stopped struggling, she would figure out that her wrists were held with simple knots and she would be able to free herself. Evidently she did, because there was no report of anyone finding her on the road."

"And that was victim one, you say?" Asked Mendes.

"Yes," I answered. "That was two months ago, and six days later, she struck again, only this time it was a man."

"Are you sure?"

I tried not to laugh. "Yes, I am sure it was a man. I am intimately familiar with male equipment."

Mendes frowned at my attempt at humor. "Everything was exactly the same as the first time, except that I had to lube up his ass before he came around. He came to pretty fast when he felt that dildo pumping into him. Again, he must have gotten himself free after I left, because there was no report of anyone finding him, and this was a much more well traveled road."

"Third victim... woman... everything the same, except that I wrote Slut' across her ass with her own lipstick. I pulled the rope much tighter and tied the knots more securely. I wanted her to be found. Somehow, however, she was still able to get free."

Mendes grunted and continued to take notes.

"That wasn't going to happen the fourth time. Not only did I tie the knots securely, I wrapped black duct tape around the rope and knots."

Mendes nearly fell off his chair. "That was the detail we were holding back to prove we had the right person if someone confessed," he hissed. "You had better not be playing me, or I will gut you myself!"

I waited for his anger to subside slightly, then continued, "I - she - thought that leaving a man tied to the hood of his car with Slut' written across his ass would end up being reported to the police, but he managed to convince the person that found him not to call it in."

"Six days later, Mistress Matilda came out of the club and I trailed her as she headed out of town. She is a very strong woman, and I was worried that I might not be able to take her down, but she dropped like all the rest when the Tazer prongs dug into her tits. I was barely able to drag her back over to her car and put her in place. But with a little effort I was able to pull her up over the hood of the car and tie her hands. Again, I wrapped the knots with duct tape, and again I wrote Slut' on her ass in lipstick. This time, however, to be sure that she didn't talk her rescuer out of calling the police, I shoved her panties in her mouth and taped them in place with the black tape. That is who you call victim number one, but she was actually victim number five."

Mendes nodded as he wrote in his notebook. I continued, "You think you have had two more victims since then, but you have had four. The man who was victim number six told the officers he was robbed by a couple of female hitchhikers he had picked up. He said that nothing of real value was taken and he would appreciate it if none of the details of what happened got into the papers. The officer obliged and left the fact that a prominent local doctor was tied naked to the hood of his car out of his daily report."

"How do you know that?" barked Mendes.

"I read the paper. I looked for a report of the rape. Instead I found one line in the daily police blotter report about a hitchhiker robbery. It is pretty obvious what happened."

Mendes exhaled loudly. "What about victim number eight? How did he keep it out of the reports. By then every cop in the area had the M.O. and would have reported anything vaguely similar to the task force."

"Did you know that Judge Atkinson was a member of the club? He likes pony girls and brings his teams to the club to perform on a regular basis, but he always leaves alone and has the girls delivered to his country estate."

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" was Mendes only comment. He sat there chewing his words for several minutes. I had nothing else to say, so I just waited.

"All of the victims are members of the club? Right?"

"As far as I can tell, yes."

"And every other victim is a male? Right?"

"Yes."

"So tonight, one of the male members of the club is going to be targeted as they leave. We could use a decoy and catch him... her in the act."

"It would have to be a member of the club," I added. "I think she knows who is and is not a Master or Mistress at the club."

"That screws that plan," muttered Mendes.

"Maybe not," I replied.

Mendes looked up at me.

I shrugged, "You might want to talk to Sargent Conrad about this."

"Conrad? Part of the vice squad Conrad?"

"Everything that happens at the club is legal... especially on the nights that Sargent Conrad is there."

Mendes picked up his phone and punched a few numbers. After a pause he shouted into the phone, "Conrad, you get your ass up here to my office on the double. As of this moment, you have been transferred to the Roadside Rapist task force!"

A few moments later, a rather apprehensive looking Sargent entered the room. He paled slightly when he saw me sitting in front of Mendes' desk. When he saw Wayne sitting in the corner he almost turned and left the room.

Mendes spoke rather curtly, "I have a rather special under-cover decoy assignment, and it has just come to my attention that you have some rather special skills and attributes that make you the perfect one - the only one - who can pull it off. Nothing goes into the report about why you were chosen for this. As a matter of fact, your name need not show up at all unless it gets pulled in during trial."

Conrad stood silently in front of the desk.

Mendes barked out, "Your choice of answers are I volunteer' or I will submit my resignation in the morning.'"

Conrad paused, looked over at me and then Wayne and answered firmly, "What do you need?"

"Nutbag here has given me reliable information that the Roadside Rapist is targeting members of a rather exclusive BDSM club downtown. I need someone to pose as a Master leaving the club tonight. It is a pure bait-decoy assignment. We will try to keep close surveillance. You will most likely be in physical, but not mortal danger."

Conrad nodded and Mendes went on, "I also need you to find someone on the inside who can talk officially to the Masters and Mistresses at the club and tell them what is going on. Everyone but you needs to delay leaving the club so that you are the only target of opportunity. The perp knows who is or is not a Master at the club, so you will have to arrange to be seen there disguised as one of the Masters of the club. You might even want to do something on stage - something legal - so that the perp thinks you are a legitimate member of the club. Think you can do all that?"

"I think I can manage, sir." The look of relief was very evident on Sargent Conrad's face.

After Sargent Conrad had left the room, Deceptive Mendes turned to me and said, "OK. We will arrange for you to be kept here overnight in a special cell. I will have an officer come up and escort you down there right now. Will that work?"

"Not exactly, I replied. You see, I'm not really here. I am in a catatonic state in the day room at the psych ward. That's why Wayne is here. I was able to go to him and tell him what was going on. Since it involved the club, he was willing to help me come here. As long as I am with him, I can be here, but once I am away from him, I will be back at the ward."

"Is he telling the truth?!" Mendes roared at Wayne.

Wayne answered calmly, "That seems to be the way it works. When I leave. He leaves."

Mendes picked up his phone and punched in a number. "This is Detective Mendes. Is Nutbag still at the ward? ... You know damn well who I mean and confidentiality doesn't apply since I am his supervising court officer!"

There was a much longer pause. "He is huh? How long ago? Well he is going to wake up in a few minutes and a few minutes after that an officer is going to be there to pick him up. Have him ready for an overnight stay."

He looked up and spoke to Wayne. "You can both go. I don't know how this works. I don't want to know how this works. I don't care how this works, but Nutbag better be awake and ready when that officer gets there."

Four hours later, I was sitting in a lock-down cell in the basement of the station house. Two officers had been assigned to "suicide watch" and were told that I was an important "material witness" in the Roadside Rapist case and that they had better have at least one set of eyes on me every minute of their shift. They were also to radio Mendes immediately if I suddenly went catatonic.

A little after 1:30 in the morning I was no longer in the cell. One instant I was staring at the clock through the observation window, the next I was standing in front of the club holding something and shouting to passing cars and pedestrians. I could tell by the feel that I was wearing the full-body cat suit, including face mask. Why no one seemed to notice me seemed strange.

I was very anxious about something until Sargent Conrad came out of the club. Then I felt a wash of relief. He was alone. I walked toward him as he handed a parking stub to the valet. I heard a woman's voice - my voice - speaking. "Do you want some after hours action at a really hot club?"

Conrad ignored me, and in a few moments his car came gliding up to the curb. Before the valet could get out of the car, I leaned my sign against the back portion of the car and set my satchel next to the sign. As I bent over, I could see that I was wearing a bright pink, leather, mini-skirt over the cat suit. I could also see that the sign read, "Kit Kat Klub" in bright pink letters and had a red arrow on it. No wonder no one looked at me twice. I was just a living billboard for the Kit Kat Klub - and who really pays any attention to billboards - even one that is dressed in a full- body cat suit.

I pulled some leaflets out of the bag and rapidly stuck one under the windshield wiper of the car. "I told you about that," yelled the valet. "As long as you stay on the sidewalk and twirl your damn sign, I can't do nothing, but once you touch a client's car, I have the right to ask you to leave."

"But if I don't put flyers under the windshield wipers, I don't get paid," I whined. "I only do it once, just before I leave, so you can complain about me again to my boss. We both win. You get rid of me, and I get paid."

As we were talking, Sargent Conrad paid the valet and walked around to the driver's side of the car. As he started to get in, I yelled to him, "Give me a second to get my sign and stuff picked up... Please!?"

He paused, and in the brief moment that he was waiting, I slipped a black box our of my bag and stuck it under the wheel well above the tire. It made a slight thud as the magnet clung to the car body, but since I was moving the sign at the same time, the valet didn't notice. The valet also did not notice that there was now a small black tube sticking slightly out of the wheel well and it was pointed toward the edge of the tire. "Thank you," I called as I picked up my sign and bag.

As Conrad drove off, I hurried to my car and followed after him. As I followed him, I looked down at the box on the seat next to me. There were two buttons. One was labeled "Trigger." The other was labeled "Release."

Conrad took the route that had been set up for him out of town toward a little used county road. I - we - followed a little ways behind. Shortly after he started down a rather dark portion of the road, my hand reached out and pressed the "Trigger" button. There was a flash and a pop and the Sargent's car swerved a little and began to slow down. After he was stopped and was starting to get out of the car, I pulled up and cheerfully asked, "Is there a problem?"

Conrad had been instructed to "act dumb," so he approached the car and leaned over to say through window, "Just a flat. I've got a spare so I'll be OK in a few min..." His words were cut off by the twang of the Tazer hitting him in the chest. Before he could recover, I was around the car and jabbing him with the hypo.

I could hear her thoughts. "You don't have a sub, but you don't care about those of us who don't have a master, do you? Well, I'm going to show you what it is like to be a sub." The hunger I had been feeling wasn't the hunger of a hunter for the prey. It was the hunger of a sub for a master.

I pulled him over in front of the car and cut his cloths from him. As I put them in the red bag, I could see that it said "Bio Hazard" in bold, black letters and had the international biohazard symbol on it. It was a hospital waste bag, and everything in it would be incinerated at 2000 degrees once I dropped it off at the disposal area in the hospital. There would be no physical evidence left by morning.

I threw the rope through the car and used it to pull Sargent Conrad up onto the hood. I ran back to my car and returned with a tube of anal lube. "I don't know if you are going to enjoy this, but I am. Wayne, you don't care what I want, so I don't care what you want. And the same goes for your girlfriend, Kelly."

I was trying to comprehend why she would be calling him "Wayne" - and why she would mention "Kelly" - when Conrad loudly gasped and yelped as she drove into him. She started to say something to him, but froze as he yelled out loudly, "Converge! Converge! Converge!" Suddenly everything was brightly illuminated by multiple handheld floodlights from the surrounding fields.

Mendes was at the lead of a group of male and female officers running behind the lights who grabbed me and threw me to the ground. Someone threw a blanket over the Sargent and started cutting him loose. He yelled loudly, "Next time your bait is unconscious and being stripped naked, just come on in. You could see what was going on. There was no Goddamned need to wait for the code word or the override."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Mendes calmly. "I assume you don't want to figure at all in the collar tonight, Conrad?"

"It's all yours," he replied curtly.

Detective Mendes hustled me into the back of a waiting squad and we headed back into town. By the time we arrived, the news media had already gathered. Someone had tipped them that there had been an arrest in the Roadside Rapist case. Reporters were screaming questions and camera flashes were illuminating the night as he walked me toward the doors of the police station. A camera flash went off directly in my eyes, and then I was back in my cell staring at the clock. It was now a little after three.

Shortly after nine in the morning Detective Mendes came down to the lock-down cell. "We are sending you back to the ward. It appears that your testimony will not be needed."

He threw a copy of the morning paper onto the table in front of me. It proclaimed in a very large headline, "Detective Mendes Catches Another One!" Beneath the headline was a picture of him perp-walking Dr. Susan Barrington into the police station. They had removed the external dildo, but she was still wearing the skin-tight, full-body cat suit. Every detail of her body was clearly visible. That was one news photo that was going to circulate on the internet for a long, long time.

Suddenly, I understood. Wayne never came back to her after that first night. He released her inner sub in a night of wild sex at the club, but then he left her abandoned. She snapped. In her deranged state, she was trying to force a Master or Mistress to subdue her by becoming a threat to them. I said out loud, "She's crazier than I am."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered Mendes. Then he pointed to the third paragraph of the article. There Mendes answered a reporter's question about how he was able to catch the Roadside Rapist by saying, "It was solid police work, a little luck, and a confidential informant who recognized the technology involved and told us what we probably should be looking for. I can't identify that informant, but I want to publicly thank him."

I looked up at him and he shrugged. "It's the most acknowledgment you are ever going to get. I still think you are a nutbag, but you are a nutbag that knows things that no one else knows."

I answered, "Thank you Detective Mendes. You have your reality and I have mine, and now I know that you know that sometimes they are the same."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Seven of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

1BDSM / Fantasy / Altered Reality / MM / MF /MFM

by The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

The Technician

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The headlines about the arrest of Dr. Susan Barrington as the Roadside Rapist soon faded. It wasn't that it didn't make interesting news, but there were too many very important people involved who didn't want it known that she had been targeting the Masters and Mistresses of The Club - or that they were members there. Besides that, it was immediately apparent to almost everyone that Dr. Barrington had fallen off the deep end and was nuttier than Mr. Peanut.

Over the objections of her court-appointed attorney, she entered a plea of guilty at her first arraignment hearing. That, however, was overruled by the judge who doubted her mental capability. After a competency hearing and a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo, a plea deal was finally struck. She was allowed to plead guilty, but mentally deficient. That meant she would be incarcerated, but in a mental ward rather than with the general population.

The only problem with that agreement was that Dr. Barrington had helped put away many of the inmates currently in the state correctional facility's psychiatric ward. She would definitely not be safe there. Since we were just normal crazies rather than criminal crazies, it was decided that she should be brought here instead.

Dr. Henderson may have influenced that decision so he would have one more guinea pig for his research into seizure-based schizophrenia. He got the credit for identifying the condition in Cassie and me, and if he could come up with an appropriate treatment and control, his status in the psychiatric research community would be cemented for life.

Dr. Barrington, however, turned out to be much less than an ideal patient. At first I thought they had her on some industrial strength tranquilizers, but at meds time I could see what they put in her cup and it was just Tylenol and Ativan. That combination is strictly to relieve anxiety and really isn't all that effective at that.

As I watched her, I realized that she wasn't spaced out or catatonic, she was concentrating deeply or meditating. She even had a mantra that she chanted continuously and softly. It became part of the standard background noise of the day room. I sat beside her on the couch one day and listened carefully. She was chanting, "Wayne, I need you. Debra, I need you. Wayne, please come for me. Debra, please come for me." She would repeat it over and over and over again throughout the day and far into the night. She was crazier than I am.

Dr. Henderson didn't have her sit in with our group. I'm pretty sure he didn't want to have to deal with another shrink in his therapy group. The mind games don't work as well when the other person already knows all of your techniques. I don't know for sure whether he met privately with her or not. They don't exactly tell you those types of things around here, but I think I would have heard something from the rumor mill.

One day after morning group, I was sitting in the day room watching Dr. Barrington chant her mantras to Wayne and Debra when Cassie came over and sat beside me. "Did you ever wish you were just normal?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"What if it were just you and me... without Wayne and Debra. I would give myself to you fully. I would be yours, and it would totally be my choice. You could give me pleasure when I needed it and pain when I needed it and most of all, you could give me yourself beside me and inside me when I needed you."

"But we aren't normal," I answered. "Remember, we go places. We live in different realities. We are not normal."

"But Dr Henderson says we could be. He has developed what he calls a pacemaker for the brain. It can stop certain areas of the brain from working. All they have to do is put us in a special scanning machine next time we go catatonic and map our brains. Then they can install it and it will put a stop to all of this."

I took her head in my hands, and looking directly into her eyes, asked "Is that what you truly want?"

"More than anything," she answered. "I don't need any master but you, and you are starting to act more like a master than a slave. You are not a slave anymore. I'm afraid that you won't go with me next time I am called to go somewhere."

"If that is truly what you want, I will speak to Dr Henderson about it." I assured her.

She leaned her forehead against my shoulder and began crying softly. "Are you saying that you love me?" I asked her

She raised her face and I watched as her eyes overflowed with her tears. She swallowed hard and answered me, "I am not sure that either of us really knows what love is. Maybe nobody knows, but I need you and I want to be with you and I want you to want to be with me. I would be willing to be yours forever and to grow old with you. Maybe even we could have kids together if we could ever get out of here."

I was trying to decide on an answer to that when Mike, the orderly, walked up to me and said, "You have a visitor. He wants to speak to you alone. He's in visitation room three."

I told Cassie that I would be right back, and accompanied Mike down the hallway to the "visitation rooms." These rooms were primarily for one-on-one therapy sessions and were equipped with hidden cameras and microphones to record sessions, but they were also used for family visits and so were labeled, Family Visitation Room 1, 2 and 3. I don't think they recorded family visits, but around here, who knows.

As I walked down the hallway with Mike, I wondered who it was who wanted to talk to me. I had very few friends on the outside and most of them knew me only through Kelly and Wayne. To my surprise, as I entered the room, Wayne stood up and greeted me. "I am here to invite you to join the club," he began. "We are all very grateful for what you did and what you risked to help capture Dr. Barrington. We all also recognize that your actions were not the actions of a slave, but the actions of a Master. You have changed."

He spread his fingers and made a shrugging movement with his shoulders. "It happens sometimes. Most often it happens when someone is motivated to be in a new relationship in a new way. Brenda and I both think that the motivation for your change is Cassie."

Wayne smiled at me in a way that he had never done before. "I would like to invite you to come to the club this Saturday night. Because the connection still exists between you and me and Kelly, getting you out of here will be no problem, but because you are no longer a slave, we need your spoken permission in advance or we will be unable to act. If you agree to be there, Cassie will also be brought to the club. Since she is still a slave at heart, she does not need to give her permission."

He paused as if judging my physical response. "You will be brought first. After we have concluded our little ceremony, she will be summoned."

It was now obvious that he was waiting for a verbal answer. I paused in thought for a moment and then responded, "I appreciate your offer, and yes, I am willing. Cassie's permission is not needed, but I must speak to her in advance of what is going to happen. Otherwise, she will be terrified that I have intentionally left her behind for some reason. She has spoken to me of her fears that something like that will happen someday."

"Spoken like a Master who is concerned for the welfare of his slave," said Wayne, as he shook my hand. "So, it is agreed. We will see you Saturday night. Be ready at 9:00 o'clock sharp."

With that Wayne left. I remained standing in the middle of the room looking down at my hand. Wayne had shaken my hand like an equal. And I had gripped his hand as firmly as he had gripped mine - as an equal. Maybe what Cassie could see happening and what Wayne could see happening was truly occurring. I was gaining control of my own life. I was becoming a Master.

The thought elated me and terrified me at the same time. Did this mean I could control my own life? Did this mean I could be Master to Cassie? Both would be a source of great joy, but both also meant great responsibility.

I was about to use the intercom to request an escort back to the ward when the door opened and Dr. Henderson came into the room. "Mike said you were here," he explained, "and I saw that your visitor was leaving." He cleared his throat and continued, "Cassie said you wanted to talk to me. Did she explain what I had told her about the implants?"

"She said that you could turn off whatever it is that is happening if we let you map our brains during the next episode."

"It's not quite that easy," Dr. Henderson replied. "I'm afraid I may have given her false hope, because for now, it is all just theoretical."

He pressed his fingertips together, an action I had seen him do many times in group when he was weighing his words before speaking. "Actually, the technology already exists and is used for epilepsy. The surgery is proven and relatively easy. Even placing the electrodes is easy. Putting the device in the brain is not the problem."

He paused for more thought. "The problem is the brain mapping. The actual mapping of brain activity is again already proven and relatively easy. It's not that. It's the problem of ... of ... timing. We can't overcome the problem of timing."

Dr Henderson was now more agitated that I had ever seen him. It was obvious that he had everything all worked out except the barrier of what he called timing. He put his hand on my head, as if to emphasize what he was to say next. "We have to have a mapping of your brain just before an episode occurs and then during the episode. The comparison tells us exactly what we are dealing with. For an epileptic, you can trigger seizures with flashing lights or electric or electromagnetic stimulation. None of that works on you or Cassie. I've tried."

"Since your episodes are very random and so widely spaced in time, you would almost have to live in a scanner for us to capture that precise moment, and no one has figured out a way to do that. If we could only trigger - or predict one of these episodes... " His voice trailed off into silence.

"Have me in the machine at 8:59 Saturday night and I only have to be in there for two minutes."

Dr. Henderson laughed softly and shook his head in that dismissive way I had seen so often in group. Then suddenly a look of understanding flashed across his face. He stared at me and then stared at the door through which Wayne had exited moments before. As he turned slowly back to me, he said, "You're not joking with me, are you? You think that he told you exactly at what time he was coming for you. You really believe that it will happen exactly when he said it will, don't you?"

"Wayne has never lied to me," I answered. "He has done a lot of things to me, but he has never lied to me."

Dr. Henderson pressed his lips together. His head swayed back and forth slightly as he thought. His concentration was so intense that his brow was furrowed and his eyes were nearly squeezed shut. "In any other situation, I would refrain from any action that might reinforce your delusions, but this time your delusion, itself - reinforcing your delusion may be exactly what we need. If you - and Cassie - firmly believe that this is going to happen at 9:00 o'clock on Saturday night, that may, in and of itself, be enough to trigger an episode. It is going to take a lot of talking to the board here and at the hospital, but I am going to arrange for it."

I answered with, "Cassie will be joining us a few minutes later."

"Perfect!" was his only response.

He got up and walked to the door. As he opened it, he said back over his shoulder, "I will have consent forms drawn up today for both you and Cassie."

And so it was that at 8:30 on Saturday evening, Cassie and I were both on movable patient support platforms ready to slide into scanners at the hospital. I was on the main machine, Cassie was on the back-up scanner at the other end of the room separated by a partition with large windows in it. I could only see her feet protruding out of the end of a hospital gown from where I lay.

Dr. Henderson and a technician were discussing the fact that she was at an older model, but it would still be very sufficient for what Dr. Henderson wanted to do. Their only concern was both units running heavy duty cycles at the same time. That had never been done before and the tech was concerned that the power and cooling systems might not be able to take it.

I heard Dr. Henderson assure him. "They believe that he will go first and she will follow later. If anything is going to happen, that is how it will happen, so we will start him and then as soon as we have images, this shuts down and the secondary unit goes to full power."

The scanner tech then turned his attention to me. "You just relax and let whatever is going to happen, happen," he instructed. "I am going to place a white cloth over your head so that you can keep your eyes open and your passage through the tunnel won't make you anxious."

"OK," I responded.

"Since we don't know for sure what time whatever it is will occur, you will be passing through the machine multiple times over a twenty minute period." He then added, I think for Dr. Henderson's benefit, "That's the maximum continuous duty cycle for this unit."

He placed a stiff cloth over my head that formed a sort of tent and patted me on the hand. "We will start at 8:50. If your timetable is correct, we should be able to capture the transition of brain activity. Are your ready?"

"Fine," I answered and a few minutes later, I could feel the table beneath me begin to move slowly into the machine. Dr. Henderson had not said exactly what type of scanner he would be using. I thought maybe that he had said a CAT Scan, but the noise was more like an MRI, only not quite so loud. I was just starting my sixth pass through the machine when the noise disappeared completely and I was standing on stage at the club.

"Welcome to a very special night at the club," said Wayne as he stepped up to me and once again shook my hand. I noticed that he was wearing a loose fitting knit shirt. It was black with the emblem of the club beneath his left shoulder. Debra was standing next to him wearing a similar looking black, silk blouse. I looked down and I was wearing black jeans similar to Wayne's and a similar black shirt with no emblem on it.

"Right now there are only Masters and Mistresses assembled here," he announced. "We are here to welcome a new Master to the club. This is not only our way of showing our appreciation for what you have done, it is also our recognition of the change which you have made in yourself."

There was a smattering of applause from the audience. "As a way of showing our trust in you and revealing to you the one final thing you must do to become a member here..." he began unbuttoning his shirt and Debra, standing beside him began unbuttoning her blouse. "Lights!" he yelled and the room became black - no not black, bathed in black light.

Master Wayne pulled open his shirt. Mistress Debra opened her blouse. On both of them, just above the left breast, glowed an ultra-violet tattoo that was invisible in normal light. It was a crossed tawse and whip with the lash of the whip curled around the tawse and then running above both to spell out "The Club." I looked out into the assembled group and could see the glowing crest on every person there.

"If you will accept this mark, known only to other Masters and Mistresses of this club and visible only under certain wavelengths of black light, you become one of us. Do you accept this mark and with it membership as a Master of this club?"

"Yes," I answered firmly and began to take off my shirt.

The scruffy looking tattooist in grubby blue jeans and black T-shirt dragged his rolling table up onto the stage. "For this I am using my regular needles," he said. "This will sting, but it won't really hurt."

He was amazingly fast. It seemed that in no time at all he was wiping away the excess ink and announcing, "All done, and a beautiful job if I do say so myself."

As I looked down at the glowing emblem on my chest, Wayne began applauding. Soon all of the Masters and Mistresses were applauding me as their newest member.

"Your shirt," Debra said as she handed me a black shirt identical to what Wayne was wearing.

"If we can go back to normal lighting," said Wayne loudly, "we will bring in the subs and the slaves."

Then he looked at me and added, "And Cassie will be joining us now."

The lights came back on. A parade of naked and semi-naked slaves and subs filed into the room and joined their Masters and Mistresses. I turned to speak to Wayne and suddenly Cassie was standing naked beside me.

"This is a simple collaring ceremony," began Debra. And then she added, "with a few little extra embellishments to make the change - so to speak."

Debra addressed me first, "Do you desire this slave as your own, forever?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Cassie," she continued, "do you desire this man as you new Master from this time on?"

"Yes, yes... oh yes," she cried.

Handing me a dark leather collar with a matte-black buckle, Wayne said, "Then put this collar around her throat." After a second he added softly, "The buckle is a special carbon fiber composition that won't trigger alarms at federal buildings or the airports." He added in a softer voice, "It also won't be attracted by the magnetism of a scanner." Wayne evidently knew what was happening back at the hospital.

Cassie knelt before me and I buckled the collar around her throat.

"We need to change your markings," Debra said to Cassie and pointed to the barrel that had been rolled up on stage.

Cassie walked over to the barrel and lay across it. Her hands and feet were not secured, and the tattooist asked, "Can you remain still or do we need to tie you?"

"For him, I will remain still," she answered and molded herself to the cylinder beneath her. The tattoo gun began buzzing and Cassie gasped and clenched her teeth. Obviously, the shabby man was no longer using his regular needles. A few minutes later when she stood back up, the twin tattoos on her back no longer said "Cassie" and "Debbie," but rather had "Cassie" and my name.

I don't know how he was able to change the name. Maybe he overwrote with flesh colored ink or something, but whatever he did, it was not possible to tell that the tramp stamp had once said something else.

"Now the front," he announced. Then he said to Cassie, almost apologetically, "We will have to tie you down for this or you won't be able to stay bent over backwards properly."

Cassie did not answer, but instead turned over on the barrel and arched her back, reaching out her hands as far as she could beyond her head. Two of the club security men in black T-shirts came on stage and secured her hands and feet. This time when the buzzing started Cassie did more than grunt and clench her teeth. She screamed at the top of her lungs until the bearded face once again appeared and announced, "She's done."

After the security men released her, Cassie came over and stood before me. The tattoo above her pubic bone no longer proclaimed her as Debra's slut. My name was now in the place of Debra's. "I am sorry I failed you, Master. I should not have screamed, but the needles were just too painful."

"You are forgiven this one time, slave," I replied. "But we will find an appropriate punishment later."

Cassie beamed at me in response and then suddenly I was back at the hospital on a Gurney in some sort of recovery room. Cassie lay on a cart next to me.

Dr. Henderson bustled into the room. He ignored the fact that Cassie had suddenly acquired a black leather collar from somewhere and that I now had a black, knit shirt on under my hospital gown. "We have it," he announced joyfully. "And both of you have been implanted. Once the incisions have healed, we can turn the devices on and - if my theories are correct - these catatonic episodes will be no more."

That was all 120 days ago - 30 days for everything to heal and 90 days episode free. Dr. Henderson has declared us "cured" and we are going home. Because Cassie was originally sentenced to psychiatric incarceration, she is technically on parole and needs to be supervised, but since I was never convicted and sentenced for anything considered truly criminal, I can be her supervision. She is moving in with me.

Both of us were packed and ready to go, and Dr. Henderson was giving us final instructions. "You have to wear the recharging headbands at least once every 60 days, and you have to keep your monthly appointments to begin with. We will download the logs off your devices and it will tell us if there has been any unusual activity in your brain. After a few months, you won't even have to come in. The devices will connect to any local WIFI through the charging headbands and with the proper programs we can download and control them remotely. All you have to do is log onto a special website so we can establish the link."

I don't know what else he had intended to tell us because at that point the ward alarm began sounding and the often heard "All orderlies to the day room" cry came over the speakers.

Dr. Henderson took off running down the hallway. Cassie and I followed him, but we were walking, rather than running. Whatever it was that was occurring was not, after all, our responsibility.

When we reached the entrance to the day room, we could see Dr. Susan Barrington standing in the middle of the room surrounded by orderlies. Tears were streaming down her face and she was crying out loudly, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." She raised her hands toward the ceiling and continued, "Thank you, Wayne. Thank you, Debra."

She was naked and completely hairless, not even her eyebrows remained. A brand new tattoo consisting of intricate vines and roses wound up each leg and came out from between her legs onto her pubic bone where it said in very ornate letters, "Debra's Slut." I had no doubt that on the back there was a tramp stamp with her and Billie's names in mirror images.

As we stood there, Mike the orderly approached us pushing an empty meds cart. "Dr. Henderson asked me to see you off," he said and gestured down the hallway. He laughed and added, "I think that he is going to be a bit busy for a while."

When we were half-way down the hallway, in the dead space exactly between the two security cameras, Mike signaled us to stop. He reached into his pocked and handed me a computer thumb drive. "This is the control program for those implants," he explained. "Complete instructions and passwords are in the read.me' file. There is also a save - restore' program that will back up the log files and restore it so that any activity in the time between will not be reported the next time you check in. Make sure the charge switch on the headband is turned off and no one knows what you have done. You never know, you might want to switch that little device off once in a while and go traveling. Now that you are Master and slave, it will be much safer for you to explore what is out there."

He then picked up a UV flashlight from the meds cart that was normally used to read the pomm's (proof of medication marks) that were dotted onto some patient's fingernails. He faced me and pulled his white smock slightly to the side and shone the light on his chest. A crest with a crossed tawse and whip appeared for just a second before he switched off the light.

He smiled. "I'm not a member of the local club, but I am in good standing with the national organization."

Another smile and he motioned toward the end of the hallway where our packed bags were still sitting against the wall. We began walking toward the front desk. When we reached the entrance, we could still hear Dr. Barrington yelling even louder, "Thank you, Wayne! Thank you, Debra!"

As we walked through the door and out into our new lives, I spoke softly. "I guess she has finally found her new reality."

Cassie added "And we have found ours."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

End of Tale Eight of Eight

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

EPILOGUE

This is not part of the story, but an answer to several direct comments or questions I have had when posting this series of stories on other sites.

A few have complained that the stories in this series are too choppy and jump suddenly from event to event.

Speaking from personal experience, such jumps are an integral part of Borderline Personality Disorder.

Borderline Personality Disorder means losing time. For a few seconds to a few hours to even a few days, you are somewhere else. One minute it is early evening and you are sitting at your desk studying, the next it is two o'clock in the morning and you are riding your bicycle through the rain-storm / flood channels of the city wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops. I was able to sneak back in on that occasion, but from then on, I kept a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in a little saddle bag under my bicycle seat.

I never had any memory of what occurred while I was gone, and luckily I never showed up with any permanent injury, scaring or tattoos. People did tell me that I had been "acting strangely" for a while, and often asked what was wrong when I returned and was obviously confused about where I was or what was going on.

When I was very young, I tried to tell people, including my doctor, what was occurring, but they dismissed it as the imagination of a small child. So, I quickly learned to hide what was occurring from absolutely everyone. I have never spoken to family about this and it appears nowhere on any of my medical records.

Because of that, I have never been officially diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I exhibit - or have exhibited - almost all of the characteristics and behaviors. Since there has never been any clear "alternate personality" that has shown itself while I was gone, my condition would be considered "marginal."

It probably would have been much harder to hide my condition if I had insisted on a different name or exhibited different gender behavior during the times that I was gone. I am fairly sure I did not, although there are some remarks by my siblings and college roommates that I am not quite sure how to interpret.

Having such lapses in time is, to say the least, disturbing. As a teenager, I once"woke up" almost fifty miles away from home. As I grew older, and was driving, the distance I might be away grew proportionately. Luckily, the time that I was away also shrank as I grew older. Somehow I was able to keep my secret until the episodes finally faded more or less completely. It has been over twenty years since I have had any major episodes, but I continue to live in dread that they will return. It is probably because of that fear that people notice that I have "control issues."

My longest episode occurred when I was in the fifth grade. One day I was suddenly in class and I could tell by the decorations on the wall that it was nearing Thanksgiving. The only problem was that the memory immediately preceding that was of being in a fourth grade classroom approaching Easter. Over six months had passed of which I had absolutely no memory.

I still have a rather tenuous grip on reality, but I can control when I am or am not in total contact with reality. This does have its advantages. I can actually go somewhere else if I am trapped in a really boring situation. And writing is very easy for me because when I write, it is not so much that I create a story as that I live out a story. I envision an alternate reality, and I am there. Things happen to me and around me and I merely describe what is happening. The only problem is that I really don't know for sure how the story will end until it ends because I am living it, not writing it.

When I am writing, sometimes it is interesting; sometimes it is frightening; sometimes it is highly erotic; but for that moment, for me, it is totally and absolutely real.

When the character of this series says, "They have their reality, and I have mine," that is me speaking.

The Technician.

Tales From The Psych Ward

MORE BDSM STORIES @ SEX STORIES POST