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I arrived at the clinic, nervous but resolute. I was resigned to participating in this experiment, knowing that it would be the only way I could afford to stay in school. Dropping out and returning home was out of the question and that bolstered my flagging confidence.
The flyers around campus had described an opportunity for students to participate in a study sponsored by a local psychiatrist. If accepted, participants would agree to spend one week in a private clinic undergoing a series of experiments loosely based on the work of the renowned behavioral conditioning expert, Dr. Ivan Pavlov. The monetary rewards for completing the study were described as substantial.
I called the number on the flyer and after verifying that subjects would be generously compensated, answered a series of questions about my medical history. I squirmed as the disembodied male voice probed deeply into the personal details of my sexual habits, but apparently I passed the screening and was given the address of the clinic and an appointment time.
Two days later I entered a well-tended brick building set back from the street in an affluent section of town. A receptionist immediately ushered me through an unmarked door and into a small waiting room and told me to review the papers on the wooden table. A confusing array of informed consent documents, reprints of scientific papers and an intimidating 10-page contract all required my signature. I scanned the pages briefly and then signed where indicated even though I had little idea what any of them meant. These people had advertised on campus; they had to be legitimate, I reasoned.
The moment I signed the last form the door opened and the same woman reappeared, brusquely telling me to follow her. We made our way further down the hall, stopping in front of a door with a small electronic sensor. My guide pressed the pad of her thumb against the flat, black surface and a familiar click indicated that the door had been unlocked. I raised my eyebrows at the heightened level of security, but felt too insecure to ask any questions.
The assistant led me into a spacious room that was as much upscale office as exam room. Pointing to a chair, she told me to have a seat. With mild impatience I was handed a small white pill and a few ounces of water in a disposable cup. I sensed that she was watching me closely to make sure I swallowed the tablet. I wanted to ask what it was for, but her stern demeanor discouraged me. “Wait here for the doctor,” she ordered after I complied and then quickly disappeared.
I expected the doctor to arrive as quickly as everything else had occurred, but 45 minutes later I will still waiting. There was no reading material in the room; even the documents I signed had been briskly stowed away in a file cabinet in the first waiting room. I found myself wondering at the lack of identification tags or diplomas as I nervously looked around the room. I could feel myself becoming more and more uncomfortable, my heart beating faster and my thoughts racing. My mouth was dry and I considered helping myself to more water, when the door opened without warning.
A nondescript middle-aged man strode into the room. Apart from your white lab coat, you were completely unremarkable. Average height, average weight, brown hair, bland but not unpleasant features…except your eyes. They were a piercing, steely gray, intelligent and more than a little intimidating. I found myself feeling even more flustered when you fixed his gaze on me without speaking for several long seconds.
Then without pleasantries or preamble, you said, “Hello, Lilly. I see you’ve signed all of the necessary documents in order to participate in my study.”
I was so taken aback by your directness all I could do was nod mutely.
“You’ve volunteered to participate in this experiment, which entails a mandatory seven day stay in this clinic. Completing the study will result in substantial compensation; however, if you withdraw early you will incur a steep financial penalty. You’ve signed a contract to this effect, yes?”
Again, I simply nodded my assent.
“Lilly, you are to refer to me at all times as ‘Doctor’. You will answer all of my questions truthfully and without hesitation. At times you will think that you can lie and not be found out. You will be wrong. You will try this and you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“What had I gotten myself into?” I wondered silently, but I nodded yet again.
“Answer each question out loud and remember to address me as “Doctor” each time.”
“Yes, Doctor,” I responded.
“Good. My assistant has explained the purpose of this experiment, correct?”
I nodded and then quickly added, “Yes, Doctor.”
“You are one of 20 young women chosen according to very strict selection criteria who will undergo 7 days of intensive conditioning under my personal direction. I have no doubt that the results of my experimentation will unequivocally prove that any person can be trained to deeply crave sensations they might otherwise shy away from, and in fact find such stimuli intensely enjoyable. Would you agree with my optimism?”
I hesitated then answered honestly, “No, Doctor.”
You smiled. “That’s what everyone thinks in the beginning. And everyone is wrong.” Your voice was confident but lacking in arrogance. “You are Subject 13 in this particular series. Some women have completed the 7 day experiment, others are immersed in it right now, and yet others will be enrolled in the near future. Every single subject in this series and in my earlier pilot studies has had the same result. I have no doubt you will follow suit.” A quick smile and then you added, “I expect to become quite renowned when I publish the results of my ground-breaking if unorthodox work.”
I murmured, “Yes, Doctor,” although my thoughts are fixated on the reason for my participation. If I completed the week, I would receive $20,000, more than enough to allow me to complete my education. I tried not to think about the contract I signed in which I also agreed to pay the clinic $5000 should I decide to withdraw early. I couldn’t even begin to make ends meet as it was; there’s no way I could pay that kind of money, but I’d decided I could tough out the week, walk away with my prize money and never look back at what would surely be a bizarre but manageable week. They had promised me that I would suffer no physical harm, no lasting damage as a result of my participation. I know it’s a bit of a stretch to take them at their word, but really, what other choice did I have at this point? I can’t make it on my own, and going back home was out of the question.
“Good. Now take off all of your clothes.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Why would I need…” I started to ask before you abruptly interrupted me.
“You signed the contract and I expect full cooperation. I don’t like to repeat myself. Take them off now.” The voice was harder now.
Suddenly you didn’t seem quite so benign, but I found myself complying by instinct. My cheeks burned as I removed my clothes and I was only slightly comforted when you reminded me that you were a medical doctor and that it was quite routine for a patient to disrobe for a physical exam.
“Get up on the exam table and place your feet in the stirrups.”
I was horrified. My humiliation was so complete that I couldn’t move. I stalled for time, “Um, shouldn’t there be a nurse in the room?”
Your voice was brisk. “Lilly, did you not read the legal document you signed? You have expressly agreed to follow ALL of the conditions laid out, one of which is that you are NOT to speak unless you are answering a question or following an instruction. Do NOT make me say this again. Up on the table, now!”
I slowly eased myself onto the table and slid my feet into the stirrups, trying desperately to pretend that you could not see my shameful exposure. The bed was raised to a 45 degree angle and I leaned back, closing my eyes as you placed soft cuffs around my ankles and wrists. I heard four metallic clicks and soon realized that I was securely bound to the table.
Your face was close to mine but I wanted to avoid your eyes; they seemed to see too much, certainly more than I was comfortable showing a stranger. “Lilly, look at me,” you ordered. Reluctantly I did. “Lilly, I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing. Do you trust me?”
“I…I don’t know,” I managed through parched lips. Suddenly I was acutely aware of how thirsty I was. Just as I was wondering if I were allowed to ask for water you addressed the obvious, “Your thirst is due to the pill my assistant gave you when you signed in. It’s a common pharmaceutical agent with minimal side effects; don’t worry.”
I tried to calm myself, despite wondering why you would have wanted me to be thirsty. I took a deep breath. How bad could this be? Just then your assistant entered the room carrying a tray laden with two tall, clear glasses and a pitcher of sparkling water. The condensation on the glass told me that the water was ice cold. I felt my thirst intensify as I stared at the pitcher. Without looking at me, you approached the tray and very slowly lifted the pitcher and transferred water into one of the waiting glasses. I was mesmerized by the clinking of ice cubes as they tumbled into your glass, and I eagerly awaited my relief. But when I saw you lift the glass to your own lips and sip the cool liquid with relish, I felt a rush of anger. You were toying with me, I realized.
Without thinking I blurted out, “Doctor, I’m really thirsty. I could…”
Again, you cut me off, this time with an icy cold glare. “I did NOT give you permission to speak. I am fully aware of your physiological state and I do NOT appreciate you speaking out of turn. From now on, you will be punished for violating this rule…a rule you agreed to abide by when you signed the contract not even one hour ago. Now apologize and reconfirm your commitment to follow all of the conditions of your contract. And please remind yourself of the financial ramifications of not completing the experiment.”
With a jolt of panic I whispered through parched lips, “I’m sorry, Doctor. I…I just didn’t think. I’ll follow all of your rules in the future.”
You said nothing, just nodded curtly and I sank back against the table, feeling deflated. Just then I became aware of a pleasant, soothing sound in the room. I looked around for speakers, but didn’t see any, yet I was sure I could hear the calming sound of waves breaking against the shore. Then as that sound faded, I heard what was obviously falling rain punctuated with sonorous thunder far in the background. After a minute or so, that was also replaced with the light, airy sound of water skipping over stones which in turn gently segued into the sounds of the ocean shore.
Over the crashing waves, I heard a gentle mechanical noise and suddenly vivid images were projected onto the blank white wall in front of me…images to match the soundtrack I’d been listening to. I realized that the choice of soundtrack was no accident. My thirst, which had been distinctly uncomfortable, became almost unbearable. I stared mesmerized at the changing views before me, each of them pulsating with tantalizing images of water, water that I craved, but was being denied. Once more I became aware of ice tinkling against glass and looked at you to see you again savoring slow, tantalizing sips of cool water as you watched the floating images, as if seeing them for the first time.
I seethed inside. “Fuck you, you smug bastard,” I thought. “Go ahead, play your stupid nature tape and wait for me to beg for water. I won’t give you the satisfaction. I can hold out longer than those losers you’ve been dealing with so far.”
I was glad for my anger, knowing that it would fuel my motivation to resist surrender. I closed my eyes to block out the images, but that made me even more aware of my parched mouth. I tried to imagine drinking long, sloppy gulps of water, I tried to imagine a time when I hadn’t felt thirsty, and I couldn’t. Surely my whole life had been one of unending deprivation. I was beginning to feel despair course through my body. This was only the first hour of the experiment and I was already about to crack. How was I going to last the entire week? I had to; I had to find a way to get through. I wanted to cry, cry because I was afraid, because I felt sorry for myself, because I though I might fail this stupid, simple test.
“Lilly, open your eyes.” Your voice was not unkind and I slowly complied.
“You’re very thirsty aren’t you?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I murmured.
“You’d do just about anything for a drink of water right now, wouldn’t you?”
I tried desperately to hold back my tears. “Yes, Doctor.”
“I know. I really do understand. And I’m prepared to give you something to drink.”
I smiled in relief. I had passed the first test and it really hadn’t been that bad. I could do this; I could get through the week.
You smiled back. “But there is a condition. You knew there would be conditions, didn’t you?”
Anxiety replaced my relief. “Ye-es, Doctor, I suppose so.”
“Of course you did; it was in the contract. But it won’t be anything you can’t do. In fact, you’ll do it quite willingly.”
Something about your tone chilled me. Why wouldn’t you just give me the water? Hadn’t I passed the test? What were you doing?
“But first I’m going to secure your head to the exam table.”
I felt my breathing quicken as you expertly slipped a leather band over my forehead and affixed the ends to the sides of the table. Even though I was half-sitting and could see everything in front of me, I felt almost panicked.
“Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe. In fact, now I can give you some water. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
You returned to the tray to pick up a small eye dropper I hadn’t noticed before. Coming back to my side, you filled the dropper from the glass of water. “Open your mouth…wider. That’s good.” And I watched as you carefully released a single drop of glorious water into my waiting mouth. I closed my eyes in relief, but no more water came.
“Would you like more water, Lilly?”
“Yes, Doctor, please.” My words were almost a moan.
You turned away and for a moment I feared it was a trick. I couldn’t turn my head to see what you were doing, but I heard the sounds of an opening drawer and clanking of metal against metal. I felt panic well up in me. You promised I could have some water, you promised. Couldn’t you see how much I needed it?
And then you were back at my side, smiling once again. “You can have all of the water you desire. The horrible, consuming thirst can finally be quenched. Every time you repeat two simple words, I will give you more water. What could be easier, right? Tell me what you’re prepared to do to get some water right now.”
“Doctor, I’ll say the two words as many times as it takes.”
“Excellent. Are you ready to hear which two words you need to say?”
I almost screamed in frustration. “Yes, yes, Doctor, just tell me and I’ll say them.”
Your eyebrows rose at my impertinence and I apologized immediately. You continued, “Alright, all you need to do to get water is to say, ‘hurt me’. Do you understand?”
My face registered shock and incomprehension. What the hell were you talking about? Why would I want to say that?
“I see you’re hesitating, Lilly. That’s fine. The choice is completely up to you. If you don’t want any water now, I’m happy to wait.”
“That’s crazy!” I sputtered and with no warning your hand gripped my face and your steely eyes bore into mine.
“Didn’t I make it very clear what would happen the next time you spoke out of turn? I can see you are very stubborn. I suspect this will be the first of many punishments you will earn. Stick out your tongue. I said, STICK OUT YOUR TONGUE, NOW!”
My tongue darted out on its own volition. Seconds later I felt the crushing sensation of metal teeth gripping both sides of my tongue. Tears filled my eyes as the pain intensified. I realized you had attached some sort of clamp to my tongue and were tugging on it as you watched my reaction.
Your voice was low and controlled in my ear. “You are being punished. You’re being punished because you broke a rule you agreed to comply with. You are not to speak without permission, correct? And yet you did. And so you brought this punishment on yourself. I did not choose to punish you; you made that choice. My only decision is what form the punishment will take. You will learn this.” As you spoke you slowly twisted the clamp from side to side. I cried out now in pain and fear, tears and saliva both streaming from my face.
“Are you going to behave? Do I have your word?”
I mumbled as best I could, “Yes, yes, Doctor” and the horrific device was eventually unclamped. If anything the pain was worse as the blood rushed back into my tongue. I felt sure I was bleeding, but when I pressed my tongue against my lips I didn’t taste the metallic tang of blood.
Before my breathing returned to normal, your face was near mine, repeating my options to me as if I were a difficult child. “You may wait in silence and receive no water, or you may repeat the words ‘hurt me’ and I will give you water. Those are your only choices. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I managed through tears.
“Are you ready to meet my condition for getting water?”
“No, Doctor, I can’t.” I have a vague hope that my tears would soften your resolve.
“Very well. It’s your choice.” Your voice was so matter of fact that I was unprepared for what came next. In your hand was a syringe filled with clear liquid which you quickly injected into my upper arm. “That was a higher dose of the medication that caused you to be thirsty. I’m happy to sit and wait for it to take effect.”
I stared at you in disbelief but knew better than to say anything. The infernal sounds and images of water still surrounded me and within minutes, I felt more my thirst more powerfully than ever. Was it the medication? The sights and sounds? Power of suggestion? It didn’t matter…all that mattered was that there was nothing else more important in the universe than my need for water. Surely my body was desiccating, turning to dust as I waited. I WAS my thirst. No one could survive being this thirsty, could they? How long had it been since I had had anything to drink…hours, days, weeks?
“Please, Doctor, please give me water.” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. “Please, I can’t stand it any more…please…oh god…hurt me…”
Your voice was so soothing next to my ear. “Of course I’ll give you water. As much as you want. Open your mouth, Lilly.”
I looked up to see the tiny dropper hovering over my face, one single droplet clinging to the tip, defying gravity. I moaned in frustration as I waited for the promised relief, however miniscule the tiny drop would bring. I was vaguely aware of a growing sensation in one of my nipples, but I was too fixated on the dropper to look down. The sensation progressed to outright discomfort but still I was not distracted from my prize. The droplet was growing, distending, and I willed it to surrender to me. As if in slow motion, the precious silvery orb released itself and in that instant, the sensation in my nipple intensified to outright pain. As I caught the droplet on my tongue, a moan made up of equal parts distress and relief escaped my mouth.
And suddenly there was no more pain…but no more water. The single drop had done nothing to appease my thirst. If anything, I was even more desperate for something to drink. I closed my eyes and squeezed out more tears. This was interminable. How could I ever earn enough water to quench my thirst? I knew the answer, even as I refused to say the words, the two words that would be my salvation.
Your voice was low and compelling near my ear. “Lilly, you’re doing very well. You want more water, don’t you? You need more water; you can’t go on like this. It’s all right to give in, to say those two words. Think of the relief they will bring you. Those words are the only things in the world that will quench your thirst. Say them, go ahead. I know you want to. Say them and free yourself.”
As I sobbed in desperation you stroked my face. “Say them, Lilly. Tell me what you need.”
“Oh god, hurt me, please, Doctor, please hurt me.”
“Yes, that’s a good girl,” you encouraged as we repeated the ritual, with me once again desperately focused on the droplet of relief while searing pain radiated out from my tormented nipple.
“Doctor, please don’t stop, please hurt me,” I begged.
More begging, more drops of water, more pain…the cycle repeated over and over and over. At some point I became lost in a blur of gratitude, torment and surrender, my thirst still not sated. Would I ever feel satiated? Would I always burn with this unfulfilled need?
“Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me, I need you to hurt me.”
“Oh Lilly, you didn’t address me properly. You are to refer to me as ‘Doctor’ each time. You know what that means, don’t you? I’ll have to punish you so that you learn. It’s the only way you’ll really learn, yes?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I moaned. “Please punish me.”
Your lips softly brushed mine. “I’m proud of you, Lilly. You’re learning so quickly. Now stick out your tongue.” I have no will to resist and I know to expect the searing pain of the clamp as it bites down on my tender tissue. “This will teach you to comply, this is what you need, you know that, don’t you?”
A garbled, “Yes, Doctor” escapes from my mouth as the clamp twists and turns. When you finally remove it, I scream out in pain and relief.
“Say it, Lilly. Tell me what you need.”
Dazed, I beg again, “Hurt me, Doctor, please hurt me.”
But this time, rather than feeding me the precious water, you set down the dropper and I feel your hand slip down my body, lower and lower until your fingertips trace the outline of my pubic hair. You stroke me with the backs of your fingers, murmuring to me all the while. “Does this feel good? Do you like this? You need to be touched here, don’t you? You’re so very, very wet.”
I am nearly delirious with desire. “Hurt me, Doctor, please, oh god, please hurt me.”
“Lilly, you don't seem entirely sincere.”
I cry out hoarsely, “Doctor, I need you to hurt me; I’ll do anything if you hurt me, please, Doctor, please I need your pain.”
Your finger slips between my folds and deeper into my wetness. Feathery caresses float over my throbbing clit. Your other hand is again holding the dropper over my mouth. I stare at it, willing the precious liquid to fall onto my desperate tongue.
"You know what to do, Lilly. Go ahead, do it."
"Oh god Doctor, please hurt me, hurt my pussy."
I count the drops as they land…one, two, three, four, it's excruciating how slowly you dole out what I need.
"Doctor, please, I need more, it's not enough, please hurt me."
"You're such a good girl and a quick study, aren't you, Lilly? I will hurt you and I will quench your thirst. But first you need to be more specific about where you want me to hurt you." Your finger is stroking my clit rhythmically now and I understand what you expect of me.
There is nothing in the world but my soul-encompassing thirst and your presence. "Doctor, please hurt my clit, hurt it more than I can possibly take, hurt it until I cry, but please, just…hurt it, please."
"Yes, Lilly, that's it. You're doing very, very well. Keep begging."
"My clit…hurt it. Pinch it, slap it, clamp it, burn it…I don't care, please, please, please I'm so thirsty, I can't take it any more. Any pain would be better than this thirst. Please, Doctor." I'm sobbing now, even though I can ill afford the loss of tears.
"Sweet, obedient Lilly. Of COURSE you can have what you need. Here you go; close your lips on this." I press down on the plastic draw and frantically suck in, but get nothing but air.
"Just a few more seconds; it's coming."
I hear you rustle about a bit and without warning an excruciating ache radiates out from my engorged clit. At the same second, cool water flows through the straw and into my mouth. I suck and suck and suck, the sudden influx of water making me choke a bit. Despite coughing I keep my lips clamped on the straw and immediately resume taking in the blessed water.
The fire on my clit is now a pulsating throb…to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
"That's it, that's a good girl. Drink as much as you want," you murmur, one hand stroking an erect nipple and the other twisting the small clamp on my clit.
I slurp and slurp until my stomach begins to bloat from the sheer volume of liquid I've so greedily consumed. The aching in my pussy takes on renewed life and I moan from the pain. On some level I realize that the clamp is not actually causing more discomfort; without the distraction of thirst, I'm simply more acutely aware of it now.
"Doctor, that hurts."
"Of course it does, Lilly. It's supposed to. You begged me to hurt you, remember?"
Now I'm squirming and panting from the fire in my cunt…and from the building pressure in my bladder. As if reading my thoughts, your hand slides down from my nipple and rests lightly just above my pubic hair.
"Please, Doctor, I have to go, please don't do that."
Your demeanor changes instantly as you bring your face up to mine. "You do NOT tell me what to do, Lilly. Ever. That was VERY clear in the contract you signed." Now you are firmly slapping the sides of my face, emphasizing each word. "You. Obey. Me. You. Never. Give. Me. Orders. Do. You. Understand?"
I sob again, from the pain in my cunt and the humiliation of being slapped and talked to as if I were a child. "Yes, Doctor, I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have told you what to do…I won't do it again…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Good, I'm glad you understand that now." And your hand begins a circular motion over my bladder, almost as if massaging it.
I close my eyes and try to ignore the building sensation. God, I needed to pee, almost as much as I needed water earlier. Now the heel of your hand is pressing deeper, causing a tingle of pleasure along with discomfort. I vaguely notice that the throbbing from the clit torture seems to have diminished as I direct my focus on my bladder.
Without warning, you remove the clamp from my cunt and I scream in pain as the blood refreshes the numbed nerve endings. Still pressing into my bladder, you lean down and suck one of my nipples into your mouth, drawing it between your teeth. You exert pressure simultaneously on my nipple and my bladder. I'm capable of only the most basic of thoughts…it hurts, it feels so good, it hurts, it feels so good, it hurts, don't stop…
The pressure of your teeth ebbs as the pain from my tormented clit fades away. But still your hand massages into my bursting bladder.
"Lilly, look at me." I open my eyes and you continue, "I know you need to urinate badly."
"Yes, Doctor," I hopefully agree.
"I can help you relieve that."
"Thank you, Doctor, I would like that very much."
"I'm going to insert a catheter into your bladder so that I can control when and how much you urinate."
My humiliation reaches new heights and only the threat of punishment keeps me from arguing with you.
I'm sure you see the fire in my eyes. "Lilly, are the contract clearly states, for the duration of this study I will control all of your bodily functions…when and what you eat and drink, when and how you empty your bladder and bowels, when you talk, what will fill up your holes, what position you will assume, who will assist with or watch your treatment."
I glare at you and you simply smile. "You won't like any of these things at first. You'll resist, thinking you can hold out longer than the other subjects did and prove me wrong. Then you'll suffer the consequences of noncompliance, and you will acquiesce, reluctantly. I will manipulate the study conditions, and you will quite simply and quite predictably begin to BEG for me to do these things. Eventually your reluctance will turn into obedience, and obedience ultimately into pleasure."
Again, I bite my tongue, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of punishing me.
I see you reach for and open a white package containing a catheter. "You'll notice only a mild discomfort as I insert it, and then of course, relief or more discomfort as I see fit to grant you." The fingers of one hand continue to knead into my bladder but your other hand has snaked back down to my sopping cunt and is probing and stroking between my engorged lips.
Despite myself, I respond to your attention to my clit, now hypersensitive after being clamped. My breath quickens and I press my hips up to meet your fingers. You stroke and caress so gently, so relentlessly. I want more, so much more; my need is endless and you are my only access to fulfillment. I can’t help myself; my anger and indignation is being replaced by something else…a sense of surrender, of release, of inevitability. With tears in my eyes I beg you in a hoarse whisper, “Please, Doctor, please use me, humiliate me…please… release me.”
You kiss me deeply as your fingers probe and stroke. When you pull away I see your smile, your eyes warm and affectionate. “Dear Lilly, I knew you would be one of my very best subjects.”
With a catch in my throat I whisper, “I want to be your very best patient ever…to make you proud of me.”
Again I feel your lips and tongue searching out mine….sucking then biting. The heel of your hand presses in against my full bladder, causing me to moan, while your fingers dance against my pussy.
“Tell me what you need, Lilly.”
“The catheter, Doctor…please let me pee.”
“There’s more to this, Lilly…you know that. Tell me what you need.”
My sobs start deep in my core and cascade out of me, and I turn my head away from you.
“Go ahead, Lilly, tell me what you need.”
I shake my head, too overwhelmed to admit aloud what I’ve just discovered. You turn my face toward you with a firm, but gentle motion, and I can smell my juices on your fingers.
“Lilly, open your eyes and look at me. You are NOT allowed to disobey me. Now tell me what you need.”
My words are so soft they barely register, “Doctor, I need you to…control me…every part of me…will you do that? Please? Please?”
“Good girl, Lilly. Of course that’s precisely what you need and that’s precisely what I will provide for you.”
My gratitude and relief causes me to sob even harder. How long have I been waiting for this? Now I cannot recall a time when I didn’t crave this control, the freedom that finally seems so close.
You kiss my forehead before moving down between my legs. I hear slight noises, feel a slick coolness and then a minor cramping as you slide the catheter into me. It’s over quickly and then your hand resumes kneading over my bladder.
“Would you like to urinate now, Lilly?”
“Oh god, yes, Doctor, please,” I whimper.
“it’s all up to you. Tell me what you are and I’ll open the catheter and you can relieve yourself.”
I feign confusion, hoping to avoid saying what I know to be true.
Your hand digs deeper, the discomfort soaring to pain. “No games, Lilly. Now tell me…what ARE you?”
I squirm and moan, desperate for relief. Another round of deeper kneading causes me to scream out.
Your voice is as measured as ever. “Lilly, you can end this pain. Tell me what you are.”
A wail escapes me as the words move from my very core toward my sobbing mouth.
“That’s it, Lilly. Take a deep breath. Now another…deeper. Good, very good. What ARE you, Lilly?”
Between shaky breaths my words finally free themselves. “I’m…your…experiment, Doctor…your subject…your…slave…”
Slowly the cramping pain in my bladder eases, the fullness dissipating, my mind no longer obsessed with that single physical urge. My hips rock against your hand gently stroking my clit. Your voice penetrates my haze, “That’s right, Lilly, just let go. Free yourself. Surrender to me.”
And with that I feel myself slipping over the edge of a raging waterfall, one desperate desire relieved but another, more primal, just awakened. I know that I will do unimaginable things as you create these needs in me. Or perhaps you are simply uncovering and unleashing what is already there. It barely matters, because it is undeniably clear to me that I am nothing more than an animal with primal needs and that I will ultimately obey you because I need what you offer.
You will train me to respond to you, to crave pain and pleasure, for torment and surrender, for domination and submission. I will beg and beg for you to hurt and humiliate me and meet my basic animal needs. I will drink in your control as I drank in your water. And inexorably pain will become pleasure, and pleasure will become pain, and I will grow to need both the way I needed air to breathe and water to drink.
I begin to float away, my old life receding as I surrender to your touch and your voice and your power. Some distant part of my mind wonders at this paradox…that impending pain and humiliation and tears would bring me peace.
My transformation has begun.
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