Dr. Winthrop Samuels Series

Chapter One-2

“How do you handle pain?” I casually inquire while awaiting a cab.

She smiles, looking away in shyness.

“Pain is something created by the mind...and therefore something the mind needs to overcome.”

Among my weekend adventurers, those trusted few with whom I share my hobby, Sunny has a reputation for endurance. I have not ‘scened’ with her, but she has been known to withstand lengthy floggings at the all too public S&M clubs, places that I avoid.

I contemplate her succinct reply... flippant reply?.. as a cab pulls up and a couple exits to enter the restaurant. We commandeer and Sunny slides in behind the driver. She offers the address, Ludlow Street, a part of Manhattan I have never before reconnoitered.

“I will go slowly with you, Sunny. But I reiterate, there will be no going back. I’m not really sure how this can be reversed. You saw the napkin. My contraption is frightfully efficient. Rather reminds me of firing a gun, such devastating results from the simple pull of a trigger.”

Sunny nods in thought. There is no hint of reservation. It appears that she is indeed thinking of the napkin and the relative permanence of the embedded circle of nickel cobalt. To remove it one would need to shred the cloth.

“It is quick, this ‘gun’ of yours?”

“You saw how quick.”

“I prefer something slower. Something that challenges me... suffering that I must overcome... if I can.”

“That will come as well. You shall endure both.”

In turning onto First Avenue, the cab picks up pace. I note that the driver cannot see Sunny in the rear view mirror. And in approaching wave after wave of traffic lights, he only has opportunity to glance back on occasion. I remove my contraption and again show it to Sunny.

“Quick. Painful. Permanent. And I shall enjoy using it on you, Sunny. Probably as effective as a brand or tattoo.”

She shudders. Yes the brisance of the masochist. The delightful mental conflict which the curious proclivity brings.

“Will I bleed?”

“About as much as you would in receiving a hypodermic injection. The device creates an initial pinprick which I have designed to instantly widen to accommodate the circle of metal... which with equal quickness folds at the perimeter to form the smooth opening you examined... and make it unremovable.”

“Where?”

“Any place I decide. That is for me to control... not you.”

She nods. There is fear... but there is enjoyment. Her eyes glaze in thought.

“Ready to begin your journey, Sunny?”

She nods. There is reluctance but acceptance... the masochist long ago having surrendered herself to life as a pin cushion.

I lean. My left hand reaches to the back of her neck. I note that my curiosity is indulged in that I can indeed grasp enough hair to guide her head. In one smooth and continuous motion I tilt back her head, my right hand lifts the contraption.

“Steady now, Sunny. Bear a little pain for me. Be a good girl for Dr. Samuels.”

As I slip the prongs up her nostrils, I am reminded of my years as an intern, offering the myriad of injections to frightened children. I press, pulling the trigger on my peculiar gun. It clicks. It snaps. There comes the stifled shriek of a little girl. I quickly withdraw. A handkerchief is offered. There are more tears than blood. As described the opening is small. Plus I have pierced the cartilage of her septum well up her nostrils where there is limited circulation.

I have grommeted the interior of Sunny’s nose. Not detectable to the unwary. But I cannot dismiss Sunny with a mere puncture... a little hole between her nostrils. No I have in my pocket a little clasp with a slim connecting cord. And as she dabs away her tears... not a word of protest I note... my hand returns to thrust the open clasp up her left nostril, thread it through her new grommet and hook it down her right nostril where it clicks shut.

“Feel better Sunny? A girl like you pines for control. And you shall have it.”

A little tug on the cord demonstrates. The tension cannot be resisted. That pretty little head moves about in response as I toy. And Sunny stares into my eyes in wonderment. Yes, sometimes the role of the sadist is fulfilled by saying ‘no’. But other times it is more fun to offer an emphatic ‘Yes’.

***

Twilight provides a modicum of cover as we exit the cab. It is amusing to observe Sunny acclimate to her simple leash. I keep moderate tension on the line, and though the cabdriver offers a perplexed look, there is a bit of a shrug as he accepts payment with a sizable tip, my hand jostling the makeshift leash to bring a muffled gasp of pain.

The street is void of people. Remaining somewhat industrial, few are the buildings converted to residential space. The seclusion is ideal for directing a girl on a leash and I must laugh as Sunny attempts to step toward her apartment without my concurrence. Like a puppy, she strains the leash and whimpers as the myriad of nerve endings in her nose serve to chastise her rash motion.

“Whoa, Sunny. Going somewhere without me?” I laugh in taunting.

I pull to reel in my leashed plaything, forcing her to step towards me and look up at my face.

“How do you feel? You’re being governed by a simple length of string.”

I lift my arm. Having wrapped the twine about my index finger, her nose and face follow.

“You can unhook the clasp, but you do not. You can ask to be released, but you do not. Your muffled gasps suggest pain, yet there is enjoyment.”

She nods, the motion comically adding to the tension on the string.

“We’re going to enjoy each other’s company, Sunny. Come.”

She is surprised when I lead her away from the entrance. Across the street, down the block. Fortunately, perhaps unfortunately for she starved for masochistic attention, there are no passersby. Still I establish my control. She most subserviently follows knowing that the slightest tug brings agony.

“I’ll want to see how nimble that tongue is, Sunny. You promised fellatio.”

***

A dreary day of reviewing data is interspersed with thoughts of that minx Sunny endeavoring to lower my zipper with her teeth.

For a girl of her age, not a bad blow job. I recall in medical school the sardonic discussions concerning the outbreak of teen pregnancy. One wag made the suggestion that more proficiency in oral s*x would serve to blunt the epidemic.

Finally walking her back to her apartment Sunny knelt before me, nose leash removed, her arms behind her back, folded upward as I grasped her wrists to render her hands useless.

“Practice, practice, practice,” I lectured as she finally caught the zipper tab in her teeth and pulled downward.

Okay, I helped a little in freeing my p***s of my underwear. But thereafter she seemed to be all tongue and lips. Working with zeal, at a young age she has learned to control her gag reflex. When the time came, it seemed like I ejaculated directly into her stomach, my spending accompanied by a slight gulp and a devilish smile in offering such sublime submission.

An inspection of her loft followed. Her clothing removed, she pranced about naked as I learned her abode was large indeed. High ceilinged. Understandably grimy. Otherwise perfect for the games to be played.

In the glow of a gratifying explosion of semen, I learned more about my pet minx. I had her sit at my feet as we talked.

Sunny emigrated from Bulgaria trading casual s*x for favors. A truck ride across this country and that. Working westward. Some bigger favors from men of Dominance. A bondage scene here, some flogging there, her age instilled concern in those desiring something long term. All used... abused?.. and encouraged her to move onward.

Eventually came New York. It seems the doggie style s*x I envisioned was a favorite of some immigration clerk. An illegitimate visa cost Sunny Sudenskaya three couplings. The clerk’s marital status made the arrangement easy to terminate once papers were received. Vanilla is not Sunny’s thing, but the practicality of accepting penetration earned her a stay.

Sunny is undereducated but bright. Her effervescence brought a job as some minion in an advertising firm.

Gazing down as she spoke, I reached to palpate her flesh, pinching here, prodding there. Supple, lithe, nicely curved, her loose clothing veils an otherwise engaging form. I could not help thinking that she could be folded up and placed in a surprisingly small box. Sans covering Sunny seems to be all breasts and buttocks and such meaty softness is easily shaped for confinement.

Yes, a simple box. Wrapped, labeled and shipped. A packaged masochist, eager to extend her submission, her obedience, an offering of anguish for those who would be amused... such as me.

“I will return tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m. Greet me at the front door downstairs. Naked. I will leash your nose and lead you up the elevator.”

Her flesh turned anserine with the thought. Then she silently nodded.

I look at my watch. For some reason my attention is diverted from reviewing the inspection results of hips placed years ago in dogs. We donate hips to the family pooch with the agreement that upon the animal’s demise, an autopsy can be performed to ascertain wear and tear on our design. Thus Fido’s arthritic hip can be replaced considerably more cheaply than his master’s... one of the ironies of medicine.

It is 6:15 p.m. My grommet device awaits. I load and call for a cab.

***

Sunny shivers deliciously. Though not a cool night the fear of discovery heightens her enjoyment of the abject humiliation of awaiting totally naked in the converted lobby of her building. It was once the loading dock of the converted warehouse and is thus an expansive area partially partitioned to offer a ground floor apartment along with access to the elevator. There are places for her to duck out of sight if neighbors descend on the elevator. But arriving occupants could enter with little notice. Thus Sunny lingers as instructed, prepared to bolt like a frightened rabbit with the creak of the outer door.

I enter and spot her peeking out from behind some crates. I waggle my finger and hold up the little clasp and thin cord, her nose leash. She knows to obediently approach.

“Maybe I’ll walk you up and down the street again, Sunny. So shy.”

She steps forth and I once again admire the girlish form. Breasts which belie her one hundred pounds. Rounded buttocks which enticingly roll with each footfall. She places her hands behind her neck and politely smiles as the clasp enters one nostril, my fingers directing the tip to exit the other. It clicks closed.

“Been a good girl?”

She nods as my right hand raises the cord and with it her face. My left lowers to her pubes. Sunny shaves there, of course, knowing that body hair distracts. My limited training in gynecology offers a quick splay of the outer labia, my middle finger plunging inward... with ease. The minx parts her feet to offer better access.

“You’re wet. Lurking about naked excites you.”

She smiles quite shyly, listening for the descending elevator... or more significantly another creak of the outer door.

“We have work to do. I will walk you outdoors and naked at another time.”

The dripping fingers of my left hand press against her lips. She knows to lick them dry. I direct her to the elevator. In pressing the button, I can only imagine the mental torment as the industrial motor grinds, Sunny wondering whether the car will arrive empty.

“How will you explain this to your neighbors, Sunny? Naked and walking about leashed.”

Stepping into the vast car, I do believe it could lift automobiles, I have Sunny kneel at my feet for the long ascent to the top floor.

“Stay,” I command master to dog.

I do so enjoy the beseeching look as she stares directly up at me. She is more deer in the headlights than canine. The thought that a neighbor may be skulking about offers genuine concern.

Still, the six floors are negotiated without mishap and I bring Sunny into her loft to the sound of a sigh of relief.