Escargot211
09-11-2009, 8:44 AM
A few weeks ago, I started dating this stunning Medical Doctor named
Jill. Shes an exotic auburn-hared, beauty, with long, curls, strong
legs. Shes 28, 59", 135 lbs., with a truly incredible tan, athletic
curvaceous body. Shes brilliant and she knows it, so shes got a huge
attitude. And she gets rather bored with any one man because theres
always three more waiting in the wings. Shes the kind of woman who
truly doesnt even think about the bouquet of roses some guy sent her,
or a man waiting two hours in the rain for her to come out, because it
happens to her all the time. Shes also very cold, efficient and
heartlessmore of a biological entity, than a human being.
It is unbelievable to me that she chose medicine, but she is more
interested in the cold science of it than the actual healing. Kind of
like a Coroner can slice up a body without a thought about who is used
to be. As I grew to know her, I found that, while she is a very
capable physician, Jill is also the most sociopathic personality I
have ever encountered. I have never known anyone who simply did not
identify, in the least, with the plight of another person. She can
dress a wound in the most efficient way possible, because that is her
job, but she feels no concern, at all, for the pain someone is
experiencing, even if she is the one causing it, because, ultimately
the body will heal and it will not have mattered.
The other night, I watched her carry on a phone conversation from a
patients hospital room, with her girlfriend, about going dancing this
weekend, when the patient began gagging on his failed breathing tube.
He was clearly in great discomfort and fear, but Jill told me she
would get to him when she got off the phone because, "Hes not in
danger of dying. Hell be able to get enough air to survive through his
continuous gagging." (She actually said that!) She went back to her
conversation for a few more minutes.
I met her in a dance club. I noticed her because she was sporting
five-inch heels with metal tips and trying to crush a piece of ice
with her heel, as the ice slid out from under her shoe until she
finally smashed it. The night I met her, fifteen minutes after Id
first spoken to her, she said, "Look, I know you probably want to
spend some time charming me and making me swoon, but, the fact is Im
really tense and I need to have sex. So, lets get out of here." Just
like that. Twenty minutes later, she made good on her promise, using
me until I was totally spent, and giving me some wicked scratches with
her nails, in the process.
At about five a.m., she woke up and kissed me lightly, saying, "Im
outta here, babe, thanks."
I said, groggily, "You just scratch me all up and then you leave?!"
"Youll heal," she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the
room. She said it like she knew I was trying to get her to have a
conversation with me, but, since she was done with me, there was no
point in that. I was totally enthralled, but didnt think shed see me
again. But, to my surprise, when I called her the next day, she
invited me to a party she was throwing for a friend that weekend.
I picked her up at the hospital on Saturday evening, and was waiting
in the hallway while she treated a guy with a broken arm. As she set
his arm, the guy cried out, saying, "God, youre hurting me." She
replied, "Yes, but Im not DAMAGING youand thats all that really
matters." He pleaded, "Can you just give me some anesthetic?" Jill,
replied, without looking up, "You dont need any anesthetic. If people
would just get past the pain, their bodies can take a lot more
punishment than they think." She seemed to have no sympathy at all,
which intrigued me.
Later, while watching T.V., I asked her about that comment. And, the
ensuing conversation, started an unbelievable progression of events I
couldnt possibly have planned or manipulated, one flowing seamlessly
and perfectly into the next. It was as if God, himself, had allowed me
my most perfect, unimagined fantasy. I will try to get each word and
feeling exactly right.
She said, "Ive done quite a bit of research on the human bodys
tolerance for pain. Your body sends powerful pain signals to the brain
well before you are truly damaged, but thats all they aresignals. So
you dont need to be concerned with treating pain as much as everyone
thinks. There have been whole surgeries done where the patient was
paralyzed by one drug but, accidentally, not anesthetized by the
other. So, he couldnt scream to stop the pain and the team couldnt
tell he was feeling every cut. They calmly removed his appendix. He
felt everything! The pain would have been horrible, but the patient is
fine today. No harm done."
"In fact, sometimes, you can learn more about a patients condition by
deliberately causing him rather substantial pain for a few moments.
Its a technique I use often. If I push down hard on a persons inflamed
appendix for a few moments, Ive confirmed his diagnosis, even though
he is in great pain the whole time. So, in the end, hes better off. Im
gonna flunk bedside manner for saying this, but there is a certain
efficiency about it."
I asked, "Is that why you didnt care about scratching me the other
night?"
She held up her hand and said, "Look, the truth is, if you could
ignore the pain, I could take these nails, dig them as deep into you
as my strength will allow until Im sweating from the effort -- and
rake them down your chest until you bleed; and, as long as you didnt
get infected, it wouldnt really do any harm. Youd heal. The whole
notion of learning to ignore pain is fascinating to me. Martial Arts
Masters overseas can take blows directly to the face and ignore it
completely. Why cant we. Id love to do a study on it. Though I dont
think too many students would volunteer for something like that."
My mouth went dry. I said, "Ill volunteer! Here and now! Try really
raking me with your nails and see if I can ignore the pain." She
laughed, "Really?" I said, "Yes, and dont hold back at all." She
replied, "Honey, if I hold back, its not scientifically valid."
Without further hesitation, she calmly opened my shirt, and began to
press her long, nails into me as hard as she could, watching me to see
if I was able to take it, waiting, Im sure, for me to say, "Uncle."
She dug them into me very hard, sending shivers of pain up my torso.
But, when I didnt object, she raised her eyebrows, acting mildly
surprised, gripped my chest tightly, looked straight into my eyes, and
then methodically tore my skin from the top of my chest down to my
navel, slowly, in ten separate, very deep, bleeding lines, while
gritting her teeth, and without letting up on her nails at all.
Sweat broke out on my forehead and my teeth started chattering from
the pain, but I didnt make a sound!. She stared at me the whole time,
calmly and detachedly watching my eyes to see when they started
watering. When she finished, without giving a thought to what she had
just done to me, she hopped off the couch and said, "Wow! Not bad! Let
me get some Betadyne for those scratches and well see how much more
you can take." I knew Id found my dream. It was time to go out on a
limb.
After she swabbed me with Betadyne, I, as casually as I could,
suggested that, since I could take her fingernails full-strength, the
only way to make more painful scratches was with her, more powerful,
leg muscles. She replied, "Wont work, my toenails are certainly not as
sharp as my fingernails."
Then, the master-stroke: "Oh, yeah, wellwhat if you used.your heels."
She looked at me for a beat. I was straining to see what she was
thinkingif she knew. Just when I thought she was going so say
something like, "This is getting a little weird," she answered, "Hmm,
Id have to clean them first so you dont get infected" (Oh my God.)
"Plus, I have really muscular legs. If we keep to our rule about not
holding back, Id really, really be hurting you." (OH MY GOD!) "Are you
sure you dont mind doing this for me? (Doing this for YOU?!!!) Guys
are always doing things for me to keep dating me, but this is really
beyond the call." She said this last comment with a tone that told me:
I really could care less about you; Im certainly not going to keep
seeing you over this; and, Im giving you an out to absolve myself of
responsibility or obligation, afterwards.
I said, "No, Id really like to increase my tolerance."
You have to understand. During this exchange, though I was trying, as
hard as possible, to keep my voice matter-of-fact, inside, my heart
was racing, and my stomach was getting that unbelievable, queasy
feeling it used to, when I first laid my hand in a position to be
stepped on by a woman in a club. I just couldnt believe this was
happening to me! And, all without her knowing my fetish, and genuinely
and completely unconcerned about what she was about to do to me!
She was getting excited about it now. "You understand, Ill have to
really hurt you quite badly to learn something from this. I wont give
a thought to limiting how far I go. The only rule will be that I will
try not to seriously damage you, and, if I do, I will treat you for
free." I agreed, my eyes locked on her hands, as she expertly ran her
evil-looking spikes under warm water, washing them with soap. I tried
to imagine her weight on those spikes.
"Okay," she replied, "this should be funmore for me than for you,
though, I expect."
She asked if she could rake my back with her heels, since my chest was
marked so badly already. I said okay, but I didnt know if I could keep
from crying out. Jill told me, "Actually, I could get a better idea
how difficult it is to control the pain, if you do. I wont stop unless
I think you really cant take it."
I was savoring each moment, as she sat down in a chair, wearing her
short, black skirt, halter-top, and sharp pumps, and I laid down on
the floor, in front of her, on my stomach, my bare back exposed to her
sharp heels. I felt the corners of her spikes press into my flesh, and
the pain was great enough that I thought she was really pressing down
hard on them, until I realized she hadnt even begun pressing at all.
She said, "Okay first we press and then we rip!" The angle was such
that she could put an incredible amount of pressure to the corners of
her heels. When she finally drove them in, it was like she was
standing on them. Picture a woman driving her heels as hard as she
can, into just the carpet, and scraping them forward over and into the
floor. Thats what she did to my back. I didnt understand how
completely she had meant "no holding-back" until that moment. Then,
she started driving them down my back.
I gasped. The pain came in waves. My skin was actually tearing and
bunching up ahead of her silver spikes as she ripped them down my
back, starting at my neck and pushing forward and down. You dont know
how strong a womans legs can be! And she was flexing her full muscular
strength even though she could clearly see what was happening to my
flesh. She did it slowly, too. I stared at her the whole time, trying
to look defiant, but my eyes were watering so badly her amused face
was blurring. She watched me, in obvious pain, seeing my eyes
watering, and hearing my voice catch in my throat, and, for the first
time, I realized she was trying to break me. It wasnt about how much
pain I could take, anymore. Not directly, anyway. Now, it was about
her winning making me cry out, no matter how strong I was. Proving, I
could not control extreme pain better than anyone else.
She managed to get almost all the way down my back the second time,
before I whimpered involuntarily. She called, "Hey, dont quit now,
youre really learning to control the pain." She, then, began spiking
me very fast with both heels, in little scratching stomps to my back,
saying, "Can you take it when I really jam them into you?" Trying to
keep my voice from cracking, and truly wanting the pain to stop, I
planned to cry out and give in. But, instead, quite without really
controlling it, I heard my voice say, quivering, "Jill, you arent
getting enough of your weight on them to really jam them into me." I
knew there was only one possible response she could have to that, and
I couldnt believe Id just said it. I was honestly, truly afraid of
what Id just set in motion.
She didnt miss a beat. "Oh, really? Well, how about if I put my full,
135 pounds on them?!" She stood up, stepped a quarter-inch from my
face, and then, onto (or more into) the flesh of my back, right below
my shoulder blade, forcing all the air out of my lungs in a loud
grunt! She spun on her heel, leaned back onto the spikes themselves
and asked, "Okay, how does that feel, tough guy?" I couldnt answer. My
mouth hung open, but no sound came out. The pain was so exquisite so
powerful I felt if I tried to make a noise, my back would break then
and there. I focused on an indention Jills heel had made, in the
hardwood floor, right next to my face. I was being crushed into the
same floor by Jills full weight, as her heels concentrated her whole,
59" frame on two, thin, sharp, metal stiletto spikes, and bore that
weight into my back. She began walking hard, up and down my back on
her heels. She assumed, since I hadnt cried out, that I was fine.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. I just couldnt get a
breath with her powerful legs and ass carrying her tall, frame over my
yielding flesh, her full weight bouncing on those killer heels like
that. After a couple of minutes, I managed to draw enough air to moan,
"Stop," between clenched teeth, but the TV drowned me out. And she
kept on. I began a long, continuous moan of absolute pain, between
clenched teeth, as she continued to trample me beneath her feet.
In the past, when Id been trampled, the woman would always test a spot
with her heel, and, slowly, apply her weight, in case she heard a
really terrible expression of pain. Jill didnt concern herself with
this. And, consequently, she sunk her heels into parts of me that just
made me scream -- but without enough air to make a sound -- helpless
to stop this torture -- and continued on, casually looking down at me.
Not a few times, she stepped too far to the side of my back, and her
heel slid off, ripping my side as she sliced into me with her spike.
After about ten minutes, as she stopped walking, she stood still,
fully on my neck, leaning on the spikes penetrating me and thought a
moment, "I cant even imagine what it must be like for you to be
enduring this level of pain. To have a 135 pound woman actually
stepping all over you in high heelsGod, I could never take what Im
doing to you!" She laughed, "Im actually making HOLES in your BACK!"
She said this in a completely calm and detached way. It was not as if
it even occurred to her to stop hurting me because of the pain she
knew she was causing. It was, simply, an observation. "Can you
describe what this is like for you? What youre going through, right
now?" She ground her foot back and forth. "I mean it! Tell me what
this is like for you!"
I tried to describe the sensation to Jill, my teeth chattering,
through glassy eyes, as she continued to stand on me; the burning and
cutting, as her heels sunk more deeply into my flesh than I thought
was possible; the fear, if she took a step, of where she would smash
down on me and the damage she could do, if she unconsciously crushed a
bone or organ without even knowing or caring. The unbelievable
intensity of the new pain, when she so much as unconsciously shifted
her weight; and the all-consuming knowledge that this was effortless
for her that she could continue to cause this unimaginable pain all
night long without so much as a thought. She could talk to a
girlfriend on the phone, do her nails, or just watch TV, and the pain
would continue, never abating, never acknowledged, never appreciated,
and I was helpless to stop her from inflicting as much as she chose.
More than anything, I told her I most feared that she had no way of
conceiving of just how much pain I was in the severity of her torment,
and that that one fact would cause her to think I could continue to
endure this, when every minute seemed like an hour. Jill shifted her
foot to the side of my neck, causing my face to contort to the side,
at an incredible angle, against the front of her shoe, as she said,
"Thats interesting."
Unmoved in the least, she said, "This is fascinating to me. Even
though you are enduring all of thatthe fear and painyou arent
screamingyou are able to control it to some extent." She didnt know
that, sometimes, pain can be too extreme to scream that you can be
afraid screaming will make it unbearable. She flexed her heels for
effect, sinking them even deeper into an especially soft spot she had
found near my ear. My voice caught in my throat. She seemed to know
exactly where to step to inflict the greatest pain. "I hadnt thought
of thateven unconscious things I do, like shifting my weight, are
major events in your life, when every fiber of your being is just
praying for some reprieve from the pain. Everything you ever wanted,
everything you ever dreamed of, is completely forgotten right nowall
you want in the world is for me to stop doing this to you. Am I
right?"
I couldnt answer. She had placed her high heels right next to one
another and was slowly shifting her weight from one to the other, back
and forth, in exactly the same spot beneath my ear, sometimes crushing
my ear lobe with her heels. I could feel them penetrating me, and a
pool of blood forming around them as she looked down at me, thinking.
Jill stood for another couple of minutes on me, standing on one heel,
scratching me with the other to try to break me. My eyes were bugging
out of my head, and I had stopped talking, and all but stopped
breathing, devoting my entire focus to unwavering concentration on
enduring the searing pain. I was absolutely motionless, locked in
frozen shock, at what was happening to me, as I heard the occasional
creak of her shoe leather, as she now stood motionless in one spot,
sinking ever deeper into the side of my neck.
Still crushing me, she finally said, "Well, I give up, you have the
highest pain threshold Ive ever encountered. But you see my point?
Even after everything Ive just done to you, all the pain youve been
in, your body is not substantially damaged. Your ribs arent broken,
they flex." She punctuated this point by bouncing heavily on my back a
few timesspringing up and down on my compressed ribs. "Nothing is
really damaged that wont heal. And, I promise Ill help nurse your
scratches and stuff back to health.
I dont know why you agreed to let me do this to you, but it shows me
theres promise for learning to do this. And, as its obvious you are
able to ultimately endure this, if youd be a willing participant on a
regular basis, Im sure I could learn a lot more about what the limits
of the body really are. Would you mind? I know its quite unpleasant
for you, but it would really help me out." She punctuated her words by
placing her stiletto heel into my ear and stepping down powerfully.
"Please say Yes." I did.
As she stepped off my back, she deliberately brought her heel down
onto my hand. Since I did not expect it, I really cried out in pain,
like a puppy, really yelping. "Oh, so you do have a chink in your
armor," Jill said. "Lets do one more experiment. Put your hand on the
floor, and, this time, see if you can keep from yelling when I walk
over it. I swear you can quit after this."
I couldnt move my body to resist. I placed my hand on the floor where
she said. She lined up, looked severely at me and said, "This is where
you really have to concentrate. Here I go." With that, she walked
forward, stepping squarely on the back of my hand with her spike heel.
As her weight went over the heel, I screamed in agony. I could never
take that for more than a second. I was holding my hand when she told
me to put it back down. It was obvious I couldnt endure her standing
on it, she said, but how about walking over it repeatedly? I laid my
hand at Jills feet, as she started to pace back and forth, stepping on
it with her heel. Sometimes, she would crush the back of my hand,
sometimes my fingers, and once or twice, she pinched the flesh at the
side of my hand under her sharp heel. She saw my eyes watering and
heard me gasp in pain each time she crushed my fingers under her foot,
but calmly kept asking me how much it hurt and could I take more. She
spoke as a doctor would ask if you were allergic to something.
After several passes, my hand began to ache so much I asked her please
to stop. I said this was something I would have to work on to raise my
pain threshold over time. She seemed satisfied with that, and asked if
I really wanted to do what it took to increase my tolerance. I said I
did. She answered that she would try to put some sort of methodology
together and that maybe her roommate would be interested in working on
this sort of thing, too. She added they would have to have rules,
though, so they wouldnt get carried away. "Dont worry," she said, "we
might hurt you, but we wont truly damage you. Wed know from our
training, exactly how much you could really take, even if you thought
you had reached your limit. And it really would help you learn to
raise your pain threshold."
Since that night, Ive found out that Jill and her roommate are true
sociopaths. They have taken turns torturing me on a number of
occasions, using medical instruments, fingernails, and lots of high
heels to raise my tolerance for pain. I have had flames held close to
my nipples until I screamed and screamed for it to stop while one or
the other of them calmly ignored me, making notes as I begged them to
stop the pain. They dug their nails into my balls to wake me up, and
practiced vicious slaps to my face. At one point, Jill brought four
young female medical students over to repeatedly practice checking my
prostate. Three of the four tore me, inside, with their fingernails,
as they were getting the hang of it. It has been an intense few
months.
--
I'd probably need to explain a little more of the personal dynamic to
let you know why I'm hesitant to approach Jill about other
"volunteers." Partly because of her arrogant personality (I don't mean
that in a bad way), Jill really believes I don't at all like what she
does to me. She thinks I endure it so she'll be my girlfriend. To this
end, she performs certain "girlfriendly duties" to keep me thinking
that. Like I said, she's a biological entity...it means nothing to
her. We still go dancing every weekend.
I heard her and her roommate talking the other day, as I got dressed
to leave. Her roommate was saying something to the effect of, "You
know,we're using that poor guy as a lab rat until he's in one helluva
lot of pain each time, and he keeps coming back and letting us because
he's so in lust with you. He actually likes you so much, he lets you
tear him to shreds, and instead of being grateful for that, you hurt
him more and more each time!" You should, at least tell him he's got
no chance."
Jill just said, "He'll survive...besides, you're the one that spent
the last twenty minutes squeezing his testicles." She had. She
shrugged, laughing a little, "Okay, I just thought we should talk
about it."
Jill's roommate, Karen, is more compassionate...as in, she squeezes my
balls with one hand, and caresses my forehead with the other, asking
if the pain is too great. Sometimes, while she's stepping on me, or
holding a lighter to my chest, she'll look at me is if to say, "I'm
sorry, this must really hurt." But, of course, she continues to do it.
Like it has to be done. The only time Karen actually hurt me in anger
was when I slapped her hand away from my chest as she was holding a
flame close to my skin. I just wasn't ready for how much it hurt. She
told me "We're not gonna have that kind of crap going on!" And she
used hospital restraints to hold my arms back. Then, she brought the
flame up to my chest and calmly stood there staring at me as I yelped
and jumped, trying to get away. It was the only time she clearly
smiled at my pain. Finally, after several minutes, she said, "You've
got a long way to go," and walked away. She later apologised, saying,
she shouldn't have been so cruel just to be cruel.
But, like everything else, the more you do something, the more you get
desensitized and it seems totally natural. In fact, Karen will come
home from studying, and see me restrained on the floor, and drop her
ass onto my stomach, full-weight, in her tight jeans and say, "How's
it going, Slick? You ready for another session?" Jill and Karen have
become totally at home with tormenting me on a regular basis and there
seems to be no end in sight. They think I must be really stupid to let
them do this to me, but as long as I am...
But, it was Karen that told Jill she could'nt stand on my face with
her metal heels because the orbit bone around my eyes might not be
strong enough, and she might accidentally step into one of my eyes.
She substituted herself barefoot. Though she's not as tall as Jill, I
think she's almost as heavy.
The latest test they're doing is to find out if fear exacerbates pain
(of course this test was my idea, cleverly offered so they think they
thought of it). Karen stands on my face while I am laying down, my
arms restrained above me with straps from the hospital so I really
can't resist; or, sometimes, kneels on my upper arms (this hurts like
hell), and cuts off my air (either with her hands or feet) while Jill
"administers the test" as they call it. She sqeezes me where it hurts,
scratches me, steps on my hand or wrist, or just holds a flame next to
my skin and tries to determine if I cry out more quickly or louder
than when I'm not afraid of suffocating. (They make 'pain control
charts' on me).
(I started with 10's across the board...now I'm down to 8's, so I
think I'm making progress :-)
To me, this has gotten to the point where anyone would be able to see
the parties were all "into" this sort of thing. But I really believe
Jill and Karen are blinded by their arrogance toward men and their
"using" personalities. Jill still cajoles me into letting her try this
or that by saying she'll spend the whole weekend with me or do
something "I've only read about in books", because she thinks she
needs to. Karen can be exceedingly cruel, but, usually acts according
to Jill's direction and because she accepts that I am a willing
participant, though a misguided one.
The other day, she stood on my wrist in boots, and ground one of her
heels into my wrist under her full weight continuously for fifteen
minutes, to see if the duration made it worse. She calmly talked to
Jill the whole time she was crushing my wrist as if I wasn't even
there. They've both taken to using their weight to cause pain because
it's effortless for them. Although, Jill really likes to slap me as
hard as she can across the face while I'm blindfolded to see if I can
keep from crying out when I don't expect it, and am already
controlling some other pain Karen is administering.
You should see the notes and charts! It's freakin' amazing! I really
think they want to publish some kind of paper...like they've hit the
Holy Grail of medical studies and no one else will be able to gather
the data! I'm just sticking with it as long as it lasts! I may ask
Jill if she thinks she should test someone else's pain tolerance to
see if I'm the exception to the rule, but it would have to be
impromptu and in the right environment. I must admit, it would be fun
to watch her hurt somebody else the ways she hurts me...I'll keep you
advised.
I suggested longer duration testing to Jill tonight. Like laying under
her desk chair as she studies for a whole evening; or having her stand
continuously on my fingers for hours to see what it does to me. I had
a phenomonal finger crush a few years ago at a bar in New York that
lasted for over an hour and it was deliberate. My hand didn't work for
a full week. I'd love to duplicate that!
AJ
vBulletin® v3.7.4, Copyright ©2000-2012, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd.