Femdom story: Locked

Well, I'll bet no one has ever written a femdom story with that title before!  Anyway, here's my take on it.

Locked

 “Are you all right, Mrs Taylor?” the doctor asked, stepping quickly to the side of the tall blonde lady standing over the hospital bed.

Janet nodded dumbly.

“Yes…yes.  I’m fine.  It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.  Seeing him – like this.  I mean, it’s just as you described it, of course.  But somehow it’s different seeing it for real.”

The doctor nodded understandingly. “Locked-in syndrome takes quite some getting used to”, she said.  “But he’s still in there.  It’s still your husband.”

“Alan”, Janet murmured.  “Yes, it’s still my Alan in there.  But he can’t move a muscle?”

“Well…” the doctor replied.  “His internal muscles like the heart are all in good working order.  And look – you see? – he can still blink his eyes.  That’ll make it a lot easier to look after him – no need for eyedroppers to keep the eyeballs moist, you see.  But otherwise, no muscular control at all.  Yet he can feel everything.”

“Mmmm” Janet said, reaching out and gently running her fingertips up the inner thigh of her immobilised husband.  “And he can see as well?”

“Oh yes” the doctor replied.  “Although of course he can’t control what he’s actually looking at.  But you can move the eyeballs – no, here, let me do it.  It’s best to wear gloves.”

And she deftly reached out and with a rubber-tipped finger flicked each eyeball round so that Alan was staring right at his wife.  The effect was a little uncanny, but Janet forced herself to smile.

“And you can hear me too, can’t you Alan?  Every word.”

She sighed slightly, and reached out again, this time pinching a small roll of Alan’s flesh between her fingers.  Steadily she compressed it, letting her elegant nails dig deeply into the flesh.  She watched the tiny buds of blood appear as she gently sawed her nails from side to side, and smiled again in satisfaction.

“Oh, we’re going to have such fun when I get you home.” she murmured, and put her hand to her mouth to taste the blood.

“Well, you can take him home whenever you like” the doctor shrugged.  “Everything’s fine; he’s fully recovered from the operation.  Those marks on his wrists and ankles will go away in a few days.  They’re just from where he was struggling when he was restrained.”

“Oh yes!” Janet replied.  “It seems so strange now, seeing him so silent and peaceful like this.  The last time I saw him he was thrashing about and screaming and begging so frantically…it’s a good thing he was so firmly tied down.”

“Yes, well they usually react rather vigorously when they’re told what the operation is really for” the doctor replied.    “I used to prefer them to be anaesthetised, but I’m quite used to it now.  As long as the head and upper body are held quite firmly, I can operate no matter how much of a fuss they’re making.”

She turned Alan’s head, leaving it to flop sideways, the eyes now looking away from them, and showed Janet a small, neat scar on the back of his head, just above the neck.

“Is it difficult?” Janet asked, with interest.

“It’s a bit fiddly”, the doctor replied casually.  “A few years ago, we were just paralysing the whole body, and that was pretty straightforward, just a quick cut through the spinal cord and it’s done.  But tailoring it so that he can still feel, is very delicate work – and leaving the eyelids operational is a skilled job.  It took over four hours for the whole thing, and he was conscious all the time.  Nowadays I rather enjoy the screaming and pleading, so I leave those nerves until last.”

“You don’t remember what his last words were, by any chance, do you?” Janet enquired.

The doctor paused, thinking hard, then shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t.  It was mostly just pitiful pleading at that point. ‘Please don’t do this.  Oh please, please.  For pity’s sake.’  That kind of thing.  Is it important?”

“Oh no” Janet replied.  “I just wondered.”

“Of course, keeping it reversible adds to the complexity” the doctor remarked.  “We have to tie all the cut ends up neatly, so we could reattach them if need be.  Are you likely to want to bring him back?”

“No, not very likely” Janet replied.  “But what I thought I might do – are you listening to this Alan? – what I thought I might do, is roll two dice every year, on the anniversary of the operation. If he gets a double six, I promise I’ll bring him back and he can be fully restored.  For a month.  Then I’ll put him back like this.”

“So you’re giving him some hope” the doctor nodded.  “Every year, he’ll wonder whether he’ll be able to move and speak again.  A one in 36 chance each time.”

“That’s right” Janet replied.  “I wanted to give him a little spark of hope that it won’t be forever.  It’ll make the misery of his existence just that bit harder to bear.”

She smiled again.

“Of course, he doesn’t have to wait for the dice.  If I chose to, I could let him out at any time!”

“I think his chances are probably better with the dice!”, the  doctor smiled back.  “But it must be nice to have that control.”

“Total control” murmured Janet, and on a whim she turned her husband’s head back again so that he was staring at them.  His eyes started blinking furiously.

"Locked.  Aren't you, Alan?  And I have the key!"

 

Now this next bit won't hurt...it's the bit after that hurts.