Story: Sex Slave to a Stranger.

 Synopsis:

Sex Slave to a Stranger is an explicit story about a successful female surgeon’s secret life of sexual servitude.
Sally is a popular surgeon; well respected, financially secure, with a seemingly perfect life. But her private life is a disaster. She is a mass of unfulfilled perverse desire, and failed relationships. She is unhappy and frustrated.
..and then an intriguing text from an anonymous man changes that life forever. She finds herself pulled into a series of humiliating and degrading tasks which take her out of her pampered everyday world into a sordid world of sexual servitude with total strangers. Choice is taken away from her and Sally learns the hard way that she is not the person she always thought she was.
WARNING: Explicit content. Over 18 only.

Extract:

Sally looked up at the clock. She had seven minutes. She felt her nipples stiffen; an inward stab of shame. Jesus.

She glanced down at the report and then up at the patient before her. This was always the difficult part. The woman was her own age, and had two young children. It wasn’t good news.

‘…well, I’ve received the reports back from both the path labs and the expert panel. They have examined the gland that I took out of your neck last month…and… their tests are indicating a lymphoma…’

She knew at that point that what she said afterwards about not knowing anything really concrete until the lymphoma had been typed, graded and staged would not be listened to. She knew all the woman had in her head right now was: ‘I have cancer.’

She saw the woman’s eyes brim with tears. And fear. She knew she was a single-parent. She could almost see her mind running ahead, to cancer, a painful, lingering early death, the orphaning of her children; and then beyond to their sufferings in state orphanages or foster care. The woman’s face was a mask of anguish. Six minutes.

‘…and so I will be passing you over to another consultant who will do the more detailed tests which will tell us how we can proceed…do you have any questions?’

At this point they all did. This woman was no exception. It was the usual one; and so was the answer.

‘…well we can say this, we have a range of treatments available, which lymphoma is responsive to. Just how responsive we can’t say until the more detailed results are in. But we are a very long was from saying it is fatal.’

The woman stared at the desk, glassy-eyed.  She showed no sign of moving. Sally glanced at the nurse with her eye brows raised. As much as she felt for her at that precise moment Sally just wanted the woman to go; to disappear, to wander away, to just fuck off. She was beginning to feel panicky. She could feel her skin breaking out in prickles. She looked at the clock. Three minutes. Her nipples felt diamond hard. She needed to go. Go now.

The nurse laid her hand on the woman’s arm. ‘Would you like a minute in the room next door where it’s quiet?’ The woman was all thanks and gratitude as she was shepherded into the side consulting room. Shock written all over her features.

Quickly she discarded her white coat, throwing it over her desk. She still had three more consultations but she had to be there by twelve noon. She walked quickly down the corridor to the back stairs, ran up to ‘Orange’ level and then entered the car park. Red Jaguar; she had the plate number pounding in her head. Red Jaguar.

She ran down one line and then the other. She was in the last-minute now. She had only seconds to spare when she saw the one she wanted. She could see a figure sat in the rear seat. She remembered the instruction, ‘At no time will you say a word. Just do exactly as I have told you and leave. No talking.’

She knocked on the window and then pulled the door open. What she saw was a middle-aged man, around fifty or so in a pinstripe suit. She climbed in. She was out of breath and panting. Her lungs were taking in great gulps of air.

She pulled her sweater up and over her head; she had gone intentionally braless that day. With her smallish breasts no-one else would have noticed and so she sat sideways on to the man topless. His eyes looked her over. His eyes were like fish eyes, unfeeling, dead. His whole face was without expression.

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February 1, 2012  Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,   Posted in: writing

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