Introduction Ch. 06

I was lying on a cold metal table, in Dr. Bloomfeld's play medical room. Maria kept saying she wanted me to have a clit piercing, or a hood piercing. I wondered if that was what I was about to get?

Just before I left to go back to school in Atlanta, Jason told me one evening to get dressed and go with him. It was just getting dark outdoors, and the drive was pleasant. I didn't know where we were going, but I knew when we arrived it was Bloomfeld's place. I didn't like him much. He was a true sadist who enjoyed inflicting pain and terror equally. His nurse Lacey was also his slave. She greeted us at the door, wearing a tiny, skintight fake nurse's outfit, the dress so small and short that with the slightest movement, it lifted to show that she was shaved and wearing her labia jewelry: little chains that linked the labia together. Only Bloomfeld could unlock it. She smiled at us and motioned us indoors.

"Jason, I really don't like him," I whispered. Wrong thing to say.

Jason smiled, steering me down the hall now, his hand at the small of my back, Lacey waltzing before us. We went into Bloomfeld's little play room. Cold steel, glaring lights overhead, sharp-looking metal instruments lying on a sterile platter near the table. I halted. Jason pushed me inside and shut the door. Lacey locked the door.

Dr. Bloomfeld came into the room. He was wearing a surgeon's outfit, but happily pulled it up to show that he was wearing a cockring. He waved his erection at me.

Another man entered the room – George! Oh no. I looked at Jason. He stared ahead, smiling at the others, then turned me to face him.

"Strip now."

I did, slowly, pulling my dress over my head, the way Jason had taught me. He took his satchel off his shoulder and put it on a nearby chair, opened it, motioned me over.

"Put these on."

My black leather collar, the D ring clinking against something in the satchel.

"Jason," I whispered. Bloomfeld and George were in a corner of the room, talking about something. Lacey was puttering around near them, lining up items. I tried not to look.

"Jason," I started again, while I slipped on my wrist and ankle cuffs with their heavy D rings, "I really don't want to do this. Why am I here?"

He told me to clasp my hands behind my head. I did. He brushed my nipples with his fingers, then removed the nipple rings. He fastened a slender gold chain around my waist.

"Remember I said you would be punished, and George could watch."

"Yes."

"And Maria did say she wanted you to get your clit pierced. Or, I think she meant your hood. Either way..." he shrugged.

"But Jason -!" I was worried. "Bloomfeld? I mean..."

"He is a real doctor."

"Yes, but – but he likes to give pain."

Jason looked at me coldly. "And?"

I swallowed hard. "Is he going to pierce the hood?"

Jason didn't answer that. "Ready for her to get on the table?" he asked Bloomfeld, who turned around and actually rubbed his hands together. He must have been practicing that in front of a mirror.

The doctor nodded. Jason and Lacey helped me onto the table. It had edges on the sides, and slits in parts of the table and on the sides. The metal was cold. For some reason, I felt more exposed lying on it than I ever had before. Jason pulled my hands back, over my head, and I heard the D rings clink and click as he snapped them to something at the top corners of the table.

Lacey moved to the foot of the table and had to tug me downwards a little, then she snapped those D rings into place so my legs were apart. Over my head, my fingers could just touch the edges of the metal table.

I felt cold. Lacey pulled two broad canvas straps up on either side of me, through slits in the table, then buckled them tightly around my waist, holding me snug. It was wide enough to have two rows of holes and a two-pronged buckle. It bit into my belly a little.

Bloomfeld chuckled.

"She won't be able to move at all," he told Jason.

"Jason, please..."

"Master."

"Master. Master please, not this."

Jason ignored me.

Lacey added straps around my upper thighs, pulling them apart and snuggly binding them to the cold metal. Another strap went across the top of my chest, over my breasts. I felt someone's hand on the inside of my thigh, just above slightly pouched skin from the belt. Bloomfeld's face loomed over me.

"She's beautiful," he told Jason. He held up a wheeled metal device, almost like a pizza cutter, with very sharp points on the outer edge. His finger idly flicked the wheel, and it turned in the bright light. Lacey stood beside Bloomfeld.

George was nearby, watching quietly. I couldn't see him, but I heard him muttering now and then. Watching.

Jason was next to me.

"Master, please, please don't," I begged. Bloomfeld ran the sharp round cutter slowly up and down my belly, finally dipping it down to run it over my clit lightly. I shivered. He laughed. He showed me several instruments: metal and cold, sterile, some had sharp ends; one looked like an oversized corkscrew with a rounded end; another group was a set of scalpels.

"But you like medicine," Bloomfeld said one time. I shivered again. He laughed and laid a scalpel flat against a nipple so I could see it. "You're studying it. You should enjoy this." I shook my head, and he laughed again.

Jason put his hand on my arm then. "I'm leaving you now." His voice was cold.

"Master no! No! Don't leave me! Please!" I tugged hard on the cuffs. The belts wouldn't let me move. The cuffs were securely linked. "Master please, no, don't leave me! Please!" I heard the door open and close, Jason leaving me. I shivered and could not seem to stop. Bloomfeld came back over to me and leaned over me, smoothing my hair.

"I'd use a gag," he began, "but this room is sound-proofed. It won't matter if you scream." He dragged the pinwheel slowly up my body, circling a nipple with it while I watched. "I'd love it if you screamed." He pushed down a little with the wheel, leaving a small imprint on my flesh. "In fact – " and I felt his hand on my pussy suddenly, squeezing, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit – "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make you scream. Would I?" He looked at Lacey, who smiled and shook her head. I was shivering a lot now.

"Your Master tells me," Bloomfeld said, walking out of my sight, "that you're a slut. Is that right?"

"Yes."

His fingers gripped my clit then, pinching it. "Yes, SIR."

"Yes sir. Yes."

Bloomfeld nodded at Lacey. "No manners." He held out a hand. She placed something in it. He held it up to me. I understood. He always wanted me to see what was about to happen. So I would think about it, anticipate it, know it was coming.

Fear it.

Clover clamps. Almost the look of a slanted X in the middle. The end would spring apart when pressure was placed on the center of the clamp. When it closed – intense pressure, wherever it was placed.

Bloomfeld fingered my clit.

"Very tender, isn't it?" he muttered.

"Yes sir."

"But –" and he pinched it with his fingers then – "it feels very good, doesn't it?" His thumb brushed the end of the clit, and I jumped.

"Yes."

"What did you just say?" He squeezed the clit.

"Yes sir. Sir."

"Good. But, I should teach you. So you don't make another mistake like that."

"Yes sir."

The clover clamp was fitted onto the base of my clit and sprang shut with a small snap. I gave a small squeak.

"Good. That hurt, didn't it? tell me it hurt."

"Yes sir, it hurt sir."

"But not a lot, did it?"

"No sir, not a lot sir." I was making sure I added "sir" to everything.

George had moved a little closer, watching.

Bloomfeld busied around, humming happily to himself. "Turn on something hot, Lacey."

The nurse turned on music with a heavy beat, erotic pulsing music that filled the room.

"You can scream all you like."

"Yes sir." I shivered again.

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Yes sir some."

"I'll have to make you more afraid."

I moaned a little at that. Without realizing it, I flexed my hands, and my fingers touched the metal rim of the table's edge. He laughed.

"Oh, I like her, Lacey! She wants to get away!" He held up more clamps. Two small flat sides held together with little screws. He patiently placed on over a nipple. Lacey used a metal gripper that looked like scissors with the grippers on what would have been the cutting end. She plucked the nipple and pulled up. Bloomfeld hummed along with the music. No lyrics, just great music, loud. He tightened the screws until my nipple was almost flat. The other nipple was fitted the same way.

"Does that hurt?"

"Yes sir."

"A lot?"

"No sir, but some sir."

"Good. Well, it's a start." George leaned in for a close look, interested.

The clover clamp was starting to hurt. Bloomfeld added two more, one on each pussy lip. "That has to hurt some, doesn't it?"

"Yes sir," I moaned, "Yes."

"Good. I'm getting excited now."

He placed clothespins on my belly, small pieces of skin pulled up. Smaller pieces of skin can hurt. More clothespins on the insides of my upper arms. A few more added around my breasts, tender skin wedged between the teeth of the clothespins. I twisted a little.

"Good, good. Let's see if you're wet." I felt his finger push inside me. "Nope, not wet enough." He whistled a little, obviously enjoying himself. At one point he had Lacey to lift his surgeon's smock and adjust the cock ring, tightening it. "Ah good, yes." I remembered then that Bloomfeld liked a little pain himself.

"We're almost ready," he said finally. He looked at me and smiled. "For the first round."

He whistled a little, checking things, then called Lacey over to remove his surgeon's smock. She fitted latex gloves on his hands, smoothing them up almost to his elbow. He was wearing his boots and pants, open at the crotch, and that cock ring. His cock was a purple red, big and thick, throbbing. He smiled at me. "Like it?"

"Yes sir."

"I knew you would. Your uncle tells me," smoothing a gloved hand down my body, flicking a clothespin here and there so that it moved bunched flesh with it, "you have a problem with being a slut. Is that so?"

"Yes sir."

"No no. Don't be shy. Tell me." He leaned on the table, propping his chin on one hand, his other idly circling one of my breasts. He finally settled on top of a nipple, poking it a little with a finger. "Tell me in detail."

"Sir, I, I am a slut. I like," I swallowed, not sure what to say. His finger stopped.

"Go ahead."

"I like being watched."

"Good. Go on."

"I like being tied. I like being fucked."

"Of course you do." His hand patted my stomach. He moved to the end of the table then. "Lacey?"

She put a hand under the table and flicked a switch. I only know that the bottom part of the table slid apart then. I had never noticed that it had two halves that fitted together. The legs were separated, then a little more.

"No, don't stop, Lacey," said Bloomfeld pleasantly. I could see his head and shoulders at the end of the table. He smiled at me. "I took some steps today to ensure a very prolonged, pleasant evening for you." He kept smiling at me. I wasn't sure what he meant. But I would find out.

Lacey pushed the switch two more times until Bloomfeld was satisfied. "Oh yes, that's very nice," he approved. My legs were very far apart now. He flicked the clover clamps. "Oh dear me. Do these hurt?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He beamed at me, then grew serious. "What a lovely pussy. What a shame." He leaned against the table. "Still. What a marvelous memory the next time I'm giving an exam to some beautiful woman."

The cock was very thick and big, and Bloomfeld was only thinking of his own pleasure. His eyes half-closed, he grunted and shoved into me. He bumped into the clover clamp that was on my clit, and I whimpered. This seemed to excite him. He fucked me hard, pulling far out, slamming back in. The only sounds were the music, which Lacey had turned down some, and Bloomfeld grunting. Now and then, George said, "Damn." I only realized a little later that Bloomfeld had not taken off the cockring. He would still be ready for me.

"Did you like that? Tell me you liked that."

"I did sir, I liked it." I was surprised. I had liked it.

"Oh good." Bloomfeld panted a little, then straightened. "Lacey. She's still a slut," he said, almost sadly.

"Yes Master, she is."

Lacey adjusted a mirror then so I could watch Bloomfeld. He inserted a specula into my pussy, and through that, he occasionally poked a thin tube. "My own invention," he said modestly. He rubbed the g spot with the end of the little tube, which sparked at one point and shot a little thrill of electricity and pain. I jerked and moaned.

"Oh good," Bloomfeld said, but his voice was huskier this time. He rubbed the little tube end over the g spot several times, stroking it, until I was almost crazy with lust. Bloomfeld looked up. "I bet you could fuck a room full of truckers by now."

"Yes yes," I panted. He shot a long stronger stroke of electricity against the g spot until I squealed.

"You forgot something, slut."

"Sir! Yes sir, yes."

"Better. But your tendency to forget is alarming." He looked at George. "Would you like to fuck this little slut?"

"Yeah. I don't want to be watched, though."

"Fair enough. Just give me a moment. Get her ready, you know." He whistled and hummed. The clover clamp came off. Blood and feeling rushed back to my clit. I moaned. Bloomfeld stood up. "Let me have my needle case, Lacey."

She handed him a slender case.

"What – what's that, sir?"

He ignored me, smiling, but then opened it to show me. I recognized acupuncture needles. "All sterile!" he said cheerfully, then plunged one into the center of my nipple. I squeaked. He inserted more until there were several quivering from each nipple. He removed the clothespins.

"George," he said, "Lacey and I will be in the back for a little while. Do try to be as rough as possible." He patted George on the shoulder. They left the room.

"Oh man," said George. "Do those hurt?" He pointed at the needles. They didn't really, but they seemed to tingle. I shook my head.

He unzipped his pants and without a word, fucked me, bracing against the table. I scooted back and forth a little on the table, as much as the straps would allow, because he was using me so roughly. He zipped his pants.

"You liked that a lot." He buckled his belt.

"Yes, I did."

"Maybe I'll fuck you again sometime."

He left the room. Bloomfeld came back with Lacey, who was naked now except for the hose and heels and a ridiculous nurse's cap.

Bloomfeld's cock was still erect. "Let's try this," he said, and held something out to Lacey. She knelt, and I couldn't see her. He looked at me.

"Did you enjoy George?"

"Yes sir, yes."

"Because you enjoy everybody, don't you?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"Bad little sluts have to be punished, you know."

"Yes sir."

"And – you want me to punish you, don't you, whore?"

I moaned. "Yes sir, I do."

"Because you deserve it." Lacey finished and stood up. Bloomfeld walked closer to me.

"Yes sir, I deserve it. I'm a slut sir. I'll fuck anyone sir."

"And everyone."

"Yes sir, yes."

He smiled and motioned at Lacey. She held up a mirror so I could see. My eyes widened. He was wearing a sheath on his cock that was fine, with nubs on the outsides. Knowing Bloomfeld, probably nubs on the inside, too.

He touched wires to the needles in my nipples at one point, causing me to cry out. He also added acupuncture needles to the insides of my labia, to the clit, to the sensitive skin around the clit and on the insides of my thighs, then touched the wires to those, too, until I cried out and jerked and came.

"Oh dear, Lacey. Our little slut has cum again. What a shocker." He ran the wire swiftly over the needles then. He handed the set to Lacey. He played with the needles until he was satisfied; most he removed, but he left the ones in my nipples, pushing them in a little more until I jerked.

"Did you say something?" he asked.

"Sir –"

"Yes?"

"Sir, that hurt a little."

He smiled at me. Then he added a few more to my breasts, pushing the fine needles in a little more. He had removed all of the ones from my pussy, but now he added a few that went in from the top downwards. I understood. He could slam into me all he wanted and wouldn't push those needles in that way. But they would stay.

Lacey threaded wires to the needles, each breast having its own set, and little wires to the needles on my pussy.

"You're getting me excited, Lacey," he said. She smiled. She turned on the switch and I cried out, just as Bloomfeld began to fuck me again, grunting and grunting as he pushed in and out and fucked me. He started talking while he fucked me.

"You like it whore, you like it, say it, say it!"

"I do, I do sir, please" I said, and Lacey fiddled with the switch, turning it up more, and I yelled.

"Say it again slut, say it."

"Fuck me please please,"I moaned, tears rolling down my cheeks from pleasure, from pain, from excitement. "please sir, fuck me, use me, I want to be used please sir, fuck me." I panted and shrieked when Lacey switched up the level again, and Bloomfeld grunted and groaned.

"God I'm gonna have to take this off soon," he said. His cock was jumping and twitching when he pulled out of me. "Get those off of her," he told Lacey, and slowly began unbuckling the cock ring. He shuddered. She pulled the needles out of me.

Bloomfeld ran the pinwheel prick over my clit, pressing down a little, until I moaned. He got a flogger that Lacey held out to him, and she pulled out metal stirrups on each side of the table, freed my legs, draped them over the frame, and bound me to the metal again. Bloomfeld had been swinging the flogger, then came up closer to me.

"Some of these strips are rubber," he said. "This is going to sting."

With my legs apart, up and held out, my pussy was open, vulnerable, and he swung down hard, smacking first on the clit, then on the insides of the legs. "We need something else, Lacey," he panted, his chest heaving. She left the room, and he walked up to my head. His hand smoothed down my hair, and he kissed me. "Are you still a slut?"

"Yes sir, I'll always be a slut."

"Good. You like being used, don't you?"

"I do sir, I do."

"Anybody can use, can't they?"

"Yes sir, anybody, please sir" and I sobbed a little, I was suddenly so hot and eager, "Please sir fuck me again please, please, let George back in here so he can fuck me, Lacey can too, please sir."

He laughed. "You truly are a slut." He held up the flogger and ran it slowly up and down my body until I shivered. "Your uncle says you fucked your shrink."

"Yes sir, I did."

"And why is that, little whore?"

"He said I was a nympho, sir."

"And are you? A nympho?"

"Yes sir, I am. I can't help it sir. I like being fucked."

"I know you do." He tapped my clit with the flogger handle. I jumped a little. He moved to the end of the table and made adjustments. My legs were moved apart even more, which had not seemed possible. Lacey returned.

"Let's see what we have." He picked up a crop, tossed it aside. I moved a little on the table. "Lacey! I have just the task for you." She walked over to him, smiling. He whispered, and she nodded.

He kept looking through the assortment of goodies she had brought in. She picked up the flogger and slowly inserted it in me, working it carefully, slowly inside my pussy until I thought I would go insane with need and desire. I bucked against it.

"She's fucking this, Master!"

Bloomfeld came over to watch. Lacey moved the flogger handle in and out of me, watching, fascinated. I moaned. "Aaaaaaa" I shivered out at one point, clenching, cumming on the handle.