Controlling Christine, Book Two

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

The Head-Piece And Another Fitting

John

Christine had done a meticulous job of organizing the wedding and all of the things leading up to it, and so a week before the big day I took her to the Clinic to have the next additions of her control equipment fitted. We stood quietly in the waiting room while the Nurseeceptionist called the Doctor and told him we were there; Christine silenced and twisting her short-chained hands nervously at the front of her tight, tubular, black leather, ankle-length skirt. She’d begun to greatly fear her visits to the Clinic for they always betokened an increase in her controllability and this time she was fully justified in her forebodings. I hadn’t explained what was going to be done, as was normal, leaving her to dangle on the shuddering edge of nervous fear and anticipation. Mike had explained that what was to take place would require about an hour to complete then she could be taken home immediately afterwards and within four hours she could be functioning normally. The only after-care for these newest additions would be to check for infection and bathe and coat them with a disinfectant for the next three days.

“The Doctor will see you now,” the nurse said quietly with a conspiratorial smile.

“Thanks,” I replied. Christine nodded nervously at her, then looked up at me pleadingly when I reached behind her back and gripped the thick strap to the back of her collar and lifted it slightly so that she had to walk forward to the opened door. It closed behind us and my friend got up from behind his desk and came around to shake hands while I released the lock holding Christine’s hands close to her waist.

“Good to see you two again!” he smiled, looking down into her strained face. “Now Christine, I don’t want you to worry about the procedure we’re going to do today, OKAY? It won’t affect your wedding plans, other than to increase the permanence and security of your control ensemble. You’ll be up and around immediately after we’re done. If you would remove your jacket and veil we’ll go to the Operating Room in a moment.”

She nodded wordlessly, her hands continuing to twist nervously, then slowly took off her short leather jacket and opaque facial veil and handed them to him. He draped the clothing on one of the chairs in front of his desk and turned back to her to spend a moment inspecting her nose rings. Mike was gentle when he gripped the light chains clipped to the central septum ring resting on her upper lip, then he lifted them, forcing her head up and back. She moaned quietly at the mildly painful tension, embarrassed that she was obliged to display her bondage and helplessness to resist, but he maintained the tension, then with his other hand reached up and held the transverse bar through her nose between fore finger and thumb. He moved it slowly from side to side and her head followed the demanding drag on her nose, even while her widened eyes pooled with unshed tears when she was handled and controlled so intimately. At last he released her facial jewellery and turned to me while she stood snuffling quietly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue from her purse.

“Well! Looks like everything has healed just fine and there’s no complications that I can see. Short of cutting off your young lady’s nose my friend, there’s no way that that equipment will be able to be removed,” he grinned at me with a smug chuckle.

“I think she’s ready for the next additions Mike,” I smiled back, still holding her posture strap.

“Very well. We’ll get the equipment mounted, then you two can be on your way!” he said leading us out of the office, through another door, then down a short corridor and into the small operating theatre.

Inside, I drew Christine to a sturdy piece of furniture, somewhat resembling an old-fashioned dental chair and helped her sit on the toilet seat-like frame. This chair though, was a brand-new construction of gleaming chrome and gleaming black rubber. Beneath the gimbaled and fully-adjustable seat, her skirt-shrouded Inhibitor Bar stuck downwards, the taunt wires to her ankle cuffs pulling her feet back against the rests, but hidden by the thick leather. Mike moved rapidly around, immobilizing her with thick leather straps across her thighs, around her waist and chest, then cinched others over her white-knuckled hands and arms where they gripped the rests. He added yet more to her ankles and she whined faintly while her confinement was rapidly completed, stiffening then twitching when the speech-inhibitor shocks lanced through her tender n*****s and breasts. He smiled at the effectiveness of the equipment, then at the top of the back rest, adjusted two large padded clamps until they pressed firmly against each side of her head, holding it totally immobile and ensuring that she stared straight ahead at the wall with only her eyes capable of movement. He touched a foot pedal and the chair slowly rotated until she was laying with her back at about a forty-five degree angle, compelled now to stare at the ceiling, then he leaned over and looked her in the eyes.

“OKAY, Christine. We’re about ready to go. My nurse will be assisting and she’ll administer the local anaesthesia. You’ll be conscious for the entire procedure.”

She blinked up at him, unable to even nod her understanding and kept silenced. The nurse entered and went to the side, then wheeled over a small trolley; its sterile white surface laden with a variety of gleaming surgical instruments. At that point I retreated to the observation room next door and watched closely while they prepared my future wife for her newest additions.

Christine shuddered nervously while the nurse draped her body with isolating sterile sheets, leaving only her head uncovered, and I saw a solitary tear trickle down each of her cheeks while she lay waiting. From that point on, the doctor and nurse operated as a well-oiled machine, readying Christine for her next, permanent jewellery. As a part of the general preparations, the nurse clamped an ominous, black, oxygen mask over Christine’s face, strapping it tightly, so that only her wide and frightened eyes were visible. The first site was prepared when the nurse carefully combed out the long golden strands of Christine’s hair, pinned them off to the sides, then shaved a one-and-a-half-inch square area of scalp, right at the top-centre of her skull. Next, she took an electrolysis machine then meticulously and painstakingly cleared the shaven area of every single hair root, ensuring that it would remain permanently bald. From there, she numbed the surrounding flesh, first with a surface agent, then with small injections of anaesthetic all around the cleared spot.

The chair swung upright and she repeated the process at the back and centre of Christine’s skull, then the chair returned to its reclined position. The Doctor took his place on a stool behind her head and his eyes narrowed above his sterile mask, professionally assessing the first site. After this scrutiny, he next made careful measurements of her head, then after marking the area with a surgical pen, reached over to the tray of instruments and picked up a small scalpel. In one swift motion he made a single U-shaped incision just inside the cleared area, then in the centre of the “U” made another, short, vertical one. Both he and the nurse stanched what little blood welled up, then slowly spread apart the thin layers of scalp muscles and skin, keeping them that way with retractors so that the gleaming white bone of her skull was revealed. I watched closely from behind the glass when Mike picked up one of the surgical-quality, stainless titanium assemblies, then fitted it carefully onto the bared area of bone.

Basically, it consisted of a slightly curved, one eighth inch thick plate, with six, equidistant holes around is bevelled edges. At the centre of this plate a short, very thick, post stuck upwards about an inch. Its upper, movable portion had four holes through it and the middle two of these had large, thick, seamless, stainless steel rings welded through them, the bottom one being of a larger diameter than the top one, so that if necessary, it would be able to flip over the upper. The top and bottom holes were, as I’d planned, for adding other types of equipment ... and there would be more.

When he was satisfied everything was in order, Mike removed it for a moment, cleaned it thoroughly again, then coated the roughened underside of the base-plate with some sort of glue and re-emplaced it on her skull. The nurse handed him what appeared to be a battery-powered hand-drill/screwdriver as soon as the staple had been re-mounted, then one at a time, passed him six, short, thick, self-tapping, titanium surgical screws.

He carefully placed each in the gripping bit of the tool, then, even inside the waiting room I heard the high speed whine and teeth-clenching buzz when he placed them in their socketed holes, and rapidly screwed each one into the very structure of the under-lying bone! I shivered in sympathy, wondering what Christine must be feeling. Naturally, she hadn’t been shown this newest equipment, nor had she been told anything about it, knowing only she was required to be fitted with more permanent additions. Mike had assured me that the length of these screws was very carefully calculated to not penetrate the skull, but they would seat extremely solidly into the matrix of the bone itself. With the roughened and glued inner surface of the titanium plate now pressed tightly against her skull, it would soon become a permanent covering! The screws had also been designed in such a manner that when they’d centred themselves in the skull-plate holes, then been tightened to the correct torque setting, the mounting mandrel would snap off, rendering themselves and the plate and ring assembly, totally irremovable. The procedure of placing the six fasteners took only seconds for each and within a minute Christine wore a permanently-mounted head-fastening at the top and centre of her skull Mike checked each mounting screw minutely, then with a small hand-tool, burnished the roughened tops to a brilliant finish.

The nurse cleansed the area of the operation thoroughly, then he released the retractors and slowly spread the thin muscles back over the site, slipping a couple over the loop on the staple so they would easily retain their original path. The flap of skin that had been peeled back was repositioned so that the swivelling post and rings of the staple slipped through the central incision, then the incisions were closed with several small stitches. The entire area was closed-up around the slightly roughened base of the post, sealing the plate and mounting studs away from sight. The stitches were of the self-dissolving kind and although they’d be itchy for a couple of days, they wouldn’t pose any problems, or a requirement to return to the office to have them removed and her skin would bond firmly to the frosted portions of the appliance. Finally, the area was sprayed with another disinfectant, then the two of them sat back and took a short breather from the concentrated work they’d just performed. Two minutes later the gimbal-mounted chair was rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, swinging Christine up through the vertical, then forward to face the floor, so that she hung gasping in her tightly cinched restraining straps while they prepared to place the second, identical fitting at the back of her head. Its mounting went just as quickly as the first, and in ten minutes, the entire process had been completed.

I walked into the operating room when the chair swung back to its normal position and waited while they removed the sheets and her oxygen mask. The clamps holding Christine’s head were released, but she was left fastened, laying there before me with her harnessed and confined breasts heaving in shuddering gasps of reaction to what had just been done. Uncomprehending yet, she twisted her head from side to side, trying to fathom just what had been added and tears of worry pooled in her eyes while she stared silently up at me; unspoken questions writ large on her beautiful face.

Christine