Medical Testing

I continue my task of writing stories focused for people on my fetlife friends list. As more requests come in, I will write those. For now, though, I'm having fun guessing what kind of thing people will like to read. For today's story, I'm delving deep into medical play. And with it, medical torture.

There is an incredibly nerdy reference during the following torture scene. I don't know if it's subtle or not; I guess the answer to that will tell you how big of a nerd you are.

Medical Testing

 Estelle locked the tripod into place and looked at the tiny screen on the camera. She stepped around and adjusted some of the lighting, then checked to make sure that captured things just the way she wanted them. The medical chair was perfectly centered. She focused the camera until she could see the cracks in the old leather of the pads and the aged metal of the huge contraption.

Once satisfied with the look of things, she slid the tray of tools to the very edge of the light, just outside of sight. Didn't want him to see anything too soon.

She flipped the viewing screen around and stood in front of the camera, looking at herself as her face filled the screen. She pressed the record button.

“Here we go,” she whispered. “There are no other microphones, so any sounds that come over the recording will probably be pretty loud.” She smiled at that. “I'll make sure you can hear his screams.”

Then she walked away from the camera and out of the lighted area. She knew her heels clicked on the floor, but doubted the camera would pick that up. The sound was just for her; she knew it wasn't for him.

He was right where she left him. Not that he had a choice in the matter. The straight jacket kept his arms from moving, the blindfold stopped him from seeing anything, the ear muffs stopped him from hearing anything other than the sound of a rainstorm that never ended. His knees were strapped to the spreader bar, his stomach resting on a short stool. The dildo shoved deep in his ass pinned him in place on one side, the one pressed into his mouth pinning him on the other.

She unbuckled the straight jacket first, letting the straps fall away and the whole mass of canvas fall to the floor. He put his hands down for the first time in what probably felt like hours. She pulled off his head phones next.

“I think,” she said, “That maybe next time I won't give you the stool to rest on. Then you'll be holding yourself up by the dick in your mouth. I know that was a bit of a strain this time. Next time, it could be worse.” She laughed and tousled his hair. He made a noise onto the dildo, but she ignored him, moving to unhook the spreader bar between his knees.

She pulled off his blindfold next, then stepped behind him and yanked the rubber cock out of his ass without preamble or warning. His eyes opened wide, and he groaned and screamed onto the other cock.

“Go ahead and let go,” she said. “You can go back to sucking it later, I promise.”

She laughed at him and ignored the withering look he gave her as he pulled the rubber cock out of his mouth. Estelle tapped a hand on the white cloth of her skirt and walked towards the light. “Come on,” she said. There was no need to put on a collar or a leash; he knew his place.

Once he was settled into the chair, she shackled his wrists to the movable arms of the chair, then strapped a wide leather belt over his waist and a smaller leather strap over his forehead. She strapped his ankles down to the movable legs, then his thighs just above the knees. Another strap across his chest and Estella smiled down at her work, then glanced at the camera. “Can you move?” she asked.

He struggled a little, and she smiled as the muscles in his arms and legs went taught and strained against the leather. His neck tightened, the strap pressed into the skin on his forehead, but there was no movement. Finally, he stopped struggling and let himself go slack. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, still stretching out his sore jaw. “No,” he said.

She stepped closer and tapped the red cross stitched into her dress. “That's no doctor,” she said.

He smiled. “Not nurse?” he asked. His eyes roved up and down her body, picking up the tight dress, the white stockings, and the very edges of her vinyl boots. “You look like a naughty nurse.”

Estelle shook her head and gestured to the lab coat she was wearing. “Not a nurse,” she said. “Doctor.”

Then she calmly reached out and clamped her fingernails around his nipple, pinching with all her strength. “Say it.” She said.

He winced through tightly clenched teeth, barely able to get air in and out of his lungs. Tears were in his eyes by the time she let go. “Y-yes doctor,” he said.

Estelle smiled down at him, then patted him on the forehead. “Excellent,” she said.

She stepped out to the edge of the light and rolled the tray into view. She put it somewhere he could see, though he had to strain to see just out of the corner of his eye.

Estelle had debated long and hard what to put on the tray. She had debated putting dental instruments down, or surgical tools, or something like that. But she couldn't really use any of those. It was one thing to scare him, but she didn't want to actually injure him. She wanted him to scream, but not to use his safeword.

So she had a brand new anal speculum, shining bright under the lights, a wartenburg wheel, a set of urethral sounds, nipple clamps, and several pairs of forceps laid out where he could easily make out what each tool was.

She knew he had seen them by the look he gave her. She smiled and started putting on a pair of surgical gloves. She took a stethoscope from the pocket of her lab coat and pressed it to his bare chest, smirking when he gasped at the cold instrument. “Your heart sounds good,” she said. “Deep breaths, please.”

He was shaking, and his breathing was shallow. “Deep breaths,” she said again. Had to calm him down, had to make sure he didn't hyperventilate. Not yet.

After a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes, calming himself down. His hands opened and closed, but he seemed to have control over himself again.

Estelle smiled down at him, then put on a surgical mask. “Now that we have a nice baseline,” she said, “We can begin.”

“Begin what doctor?” he asked.

She slid his legs apart and locked them into place. “Just a simple examination,” she said. “Seeing how fit of a specimen you might be.”

“Specimen?”

She nodded, picking up the speculum and opening it a few times so he could see it. “Quiet now,” she said. “The procedure is very delicate.”

She squirted some lubricant onto the cold metal of the speculum and slid it into his ass, which still gaped a bit from his earlier imprisonment. She clicked it open bit by bit, locking it in place as he grunted and bit his lip. She took a flashlight from her pocket and shone it up his ass, pretending to look for something.

Then she nodded to herself and stood up. “Looks like you performed the enema as instructed,” she said. “Good to know you are able to follow simple instructions. Did you take more than one?”

“I did three, doctor,” he said. “As instructed.”

She smiled behind the surgical mask, then patted his bare chest. “Good boy,” she said. She slipped the gloves off with a loud snap and started replacing them with another pair.

He made an uncomfortable sound. “Um, doctor?”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Aren't you, um.” She tried to shift as much as the bonds would allow. “Aren't you going to take that out of me?”

She laughed. “Of course not,” she said. “Stop asking silly questions.”

He frowned. “Yes doctor.”

She spread out his arms, locking them into place so he was as splayed out as the medical chair would allow him to be. “Let's test your reflexes, shall we?”

She picked up the wartenburg wheel an rested it against the back of arm, right at the elbow. She rolled it slowly down his arm, watching him twitch as she did. She rolled over the strap at his wrist and down the back of his hand, pressing gently as she went between his center knuckle. He inhaled sharply there, and Estelle nodded to herself. “Very good,” she said. Then she picked up one of the forceps and pinched right between the knuckles, locking the forceps in their broadest position. She repeated the procedure on his other hand.

“Did you know,” she said, resting a hand on his forehead as he adjusted to the pressure on his hands, “that there is a thing called a pain machine. They use it for psychological testing to find people's pain tolerances. It's a pretty ingenious thing.”

He bit his lip.

“All it does is put pressure right there,” she says, tapping one of the forceps. “Between the knuckles. Doesn't do any real damage, but causes a lot of pain. And a controlled and measurable amount, too. When they want to increase the pain,” she reached down and squeezed the forceps on his right hand one tiny click tighter. He made an agonized groan, and she saw the muscles in his arms tighten. “They just increase the pressure.”

She flicked the forceps with her gloved finger, and he gasped.

“I really should get one of those,” she said. “These work well enough, but I can't really make them too tight.” She tightened to the third clip, and he whimpered. “In fact, that's about as tight as I can make it. Any more and it might really hurt you.”

She stepped around him and took hold of the other pair of forceps, still on its first clip. “Tell me,” she said, “How does it feel?”

“It hurts doctor,” he said, his voice weak and right on the edge of a sob. “It hurts so much.”

She nodded, then tightened the forceps all the way to their third clip. He screamed.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, as if the reaction was completely expected. His hands were shaking, and he was straining against his bonds. His whole body was bathed in sweat, and the agony was written across his face.

“Tell me something,” she said, her voice still conversational. “A word. Any word at all, so long as it's clear.”

He made a random noise dripping with pain.

Estelle frowned. She gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. “Come on,” she said. “Tell me something. Call me doctor.”

“D-doctor,” he said, forcing the word out through a haze of agony.

Estelle nodded at that. If he could say one word, he could say his safeword. She patted his forehead again. “Good,” she said. “It seems your pain tolerance is at a relatively acceptable level.”

He laughed at that, though the blood was drained from his face and even the desperate chuckle was laced with agony. “Thanks.” He spoke between heavy breaths as he fought to ignore, or at least endure, the pain.

Estelle made a show of listening to his heart again. He didn't react to the cold that time. From what she could tell, his heart beat was fast, but steady.

“I suppose we should test to see if it is worth making a special note,” she said. She walked out of the range of the light and the camera an wheeled in another cart. She let him see what looked like an old car battery on the top the cart. “Look me in the eyes,” she said, her voice too low to be picked up by the camera.

He locked eyes with her.

“I'm going to gag you,” she said. “If you need me to stop, I need you to make three steady blinks.” She closed her eyes for a second, opened them for a second, and repeated the process twice. “Just like that. If you understand, give me one long blink.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. He gave her the best smile he could through the pain.

She patted him on the chest and stood up again. “Excellent,” she said. Then she pushed a gag into his mouth and ratcheted his jaw apart. “This is so you won't bite your tongue,” she said.

Then she reached over to the battery. From inside the false shell of the battery, she took the prongs of her tens unit and the remote control that would actually cause it to deliver power. One pad she held in her hand. The other she pressed against the speculum in his ass.

“We'll start with a quick burst, shall we?” she said. She pressed the other pad to his chest, completing the circuit. He screamed through the spreader gag as voltage pumped through his body. She just let it go for a second, then turned it off.

He whimpered.

“I wonder if I could make smoke come off your body,” she said. She looked at his face. He stared back at her, pain clear in his eyes, blinking at a normal rate.

She turned the power back on and pressed it against him again. He screamed again, and she counted slowly to five.

When she stopped, he was sobbing. But his eyes stayed steady.

The third time, she counted to ten.

Though his eyes didn't make the special blinks, and his body did not start to smoke, Estelle decided it best to stop anyway. His eyes were bulging, his skin was deeply flushed, and he was breathing very shallowly again. She put the ends of the unit back inside the car battery case, then removed the gag from his mouth.

“Now tell me,” she said, patting a cloth on his forehead to wipe away the sweat. “And do remember that this is for posterity. So: be honest.” She smiled behind the mask. “How do you feel?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and made a whining sob. His eyes clenched tight, and he stretched his jaw again. Another sob.

“Interesting,” she said.

Estelle turned to the camera and removed her mask. “Pain tolerance is excellent,” she said. “We will now give the subject a brief respite from the pain and begin to examine its capacity for anal play,” She walked towards the camera until her face again filled the screen, “then proceed to judge whether or not it is ready to serve as entertainment for a gang bang.”

She smiled, winked, and then turned off the tape.