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Message-ID: <27882asstr$976795803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: mrledft@aol.com (MR LEDFT)
Subject: {ASSM} Merry Christmas Bitch!, Pt. 1 m/f, sn, non-con.
Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2000 07:10:03 -0500
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WARNING: This story is a work of fiction not intended to be read by 
persons under the age of 21. By continuing on, you attest that you 
are 21 or over and will not convey the story to minors. This work, 
having been posted to the newsgroup, is copyrighted by the author. 
Please do not republish, copy, or post without prior consent of the 
author. Copyright Ladyvet, 2000. 

More stories by Ladyvet may be found at my site:
www.egroups.com/group/MastrKink




Merry Christmas, Bitch!
Ladyvet
Part 1 of 2

October 17:
Katherine and Carl Brewer stared silently at the fading reflection of 
skeletal trees in the lake. Winter would come early. The foliage had flared 
briefly then fallen suddenly in brown heaps and waves. Mountain air cooled 
quickly after sunset. The frigid silence between them chilled her soul.

Silence formed a deepening chasm between them. She was too drained to speak. 
Telling him about her affair had taken every ounce of courage and energy. 
The baby kicked. Katherine put her hands gently on her stomach to better 
feel the life within her.

Carl got up, went into the house and came back with a large manila envelope, 
which he dropped in her lap. She knew without looking inside that it 
contained pictures of her with her lover. She handed it back to him without 
speaking. He opened it, withdrew a stack of large, glossy surveillance 
photos and looked at them in the gathering gloom. He broke the tense silence 
with the question she'd dreaded.

"Is it mine?" She mumbled that she thought so. It would have been nice to 
have finally conceived with her husband after eight years of marriage but 
she couldn't be sure the baby wasn't Paul's.

"Do you want a divorce? Do you love him enough to give up the baby?" 
Katherine had heard those terrible questions in her mind every time she'd 
mentally rehearsed the sad confrontation. She couldn't fight his wealth and 
political power. He'd publicize the sordid details of her affair and worse, 
the secret of the drug problem she'd valiantly beaten in college. She 
couldn't face living with what he'd make public about her, nor could she 
give up the child she already loved.

"No," she replied softly. "I won't see him again." Carl's face was devoid of 
emotion except for the iciness in his eyes. She'd seen that expression 
before. He wore it in court before attacking and destroying a witness. She 
looked away and asked if he wanted a divorce.

"No. We'll remain married." She knew he would say that. He wouldn't let her 
go to the man she loved. Carl couldn't admit defeat. He got up, walked past 
her and into the house, leaving her sobbing in the cold.

November 3:
Katherine screamed, gasped and screamed again. The spinal had hardly begun 
to take effect before she delivered. Carl stood beside the delivery table, 
arms folded, eyes cold above the mask and watched her convulse and scream 
again as the baby's head emerged. She reached out to him, clutched his 
surgical gown, tried to pull him to her. He pried her fingers loose and 
moved beyond her grasp to watch her agony undisturbed. He left without a 
word as soon as he saw that the baby was perfect.

November 19:
Katherine nursed little Stephanie by the warmth of the fire. Her daughter 
suckled happily, alternately drinking and softly cooing. Katherine 
luxuriated in the wet warmth of her mouth. She loved nursing although it 
left her restless and excited. Each little tug on her nipple reminded her of 
the nights spent with her lover and with her husband, too. Katherine had 
fallen out of love with Carl but she still enjoyed their lovemaking 
immensely even hours after being with Paul. Carl knew exactly what she 
needed and never failed to satisfy her.

It had been over two months since she had been with either of them. Her 
advancing pregnancy had done nothing to dull her desire. She felt each tug 
on her nipple in her womb. She was amazed when Carl handed her a small, gift 
wrapped box. He had hardly said a word to her since the night at the lake. 
Perhaps he had finally forgiven her. She hoped so. Paul was out of her life. 
She was willing to rebuild their marriage if only Carl would open up to her. 
He hadn't allowed her into their bedroom suite since their confrontation. It 
was Carl, not Paul, who made love to her in her fantasies as she masturbated 
in her bed in the nursery. She cried silently after each lonely, 
unsatisfying orgasm while her daughter slept nearby.

Katherine thanked him for the gift and asked him whether she had to wait for 
Christmas to open it.

"Open it now," he replied. She slipped her nail under the tape and raised 
it, trying not to tear the lovely gold foil paper. The ebony box gleamed in 
the flickering light. Carl stood quietly, arms folded while she examined the 
contents. The box contained a gleaming C-shaped metal object with little 
notches cut in the ends and another, smaller piece designed to lock into the 
opening in the "C" and convert it to a circle. It also contained two 
surgical steel rods about four inches long with sharp points on each end. 
Slots were machined into them near one end. Two slotted disks slightly 
larger than quarters lay under them.

She asked him what the metal objects were for. He ignored her, slipped the 
box into his pocket and told her to tell the governess they were going out 
for the evening.

She was surprised and delighted when he added "wear something pretty." He 
hadn't taken her anywhere since she admitted to her affair with Paul.

He drove silently, eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, oblivious to 
her attempts at conversation. Katherine finally stopped trying to talk to 
him. She had expected to go to a play or a nice restaurant. Their 
destination was an older, seedy section of the inner city. Boarded up 
buildings stood like sores among the few still occupied. Carl parked in 
front of a decrepit brownstone and escorted her to the door. A gust of icy 
wind rippled around her legs. She pulled her mink coat tighter. The door 
creaked open. A disheveled man greeted Carl by name. She wondered how her 
husband knew such an unsavory looking person.

Carl didn't introduce Katherine to him. She looked back at the deserted, 
debris- strewn street for a moment before following them inside and down a 
dark, musty hall. It opened into a small, brightly-lit chamber furnished 
like a doctor's examination room. A metal surgical table took up the middle 
of the room. Glass fronted medical instrument and supply cabinets lined the 
walls. The man closed and locked the door behind them. Her heart sank. Carl 
never did anything haphazardly or on the spur of the moment. She knew he had 
planned carefully whatever was going to happen. Carl leaned against
the door, glanced at her and nodded to the man.

"She's all yours." Her heart sank. Carl would have his coldly methodical and 
carefully crafted revenge. There was no escape. The man ordered her to 
remove her clothes. She looked at Carl in disbelief. Was he going to let 
this stranger rape her, making her relive the terrible act a drunken 
neighbor had inflicted on her when she was still in her teens? She looked at 
him imploringly. If Carl's intended to punish he by frightening her out of 
her wits, he had succeeded. He could stop now.

Carl said, "Do it, Katherine" in a flat, menacing tone she'd never heard him 
use before. She shivered. The room was cold but the knot of fear in her 
stomach was positively icy. She took off her coat, laid it carefully on a 
chair and looked at Carl again, praying silently for some sign that he'd 
relent before it was too late. His eyes held no comfort. She removed the 
soft, clinging dress she had hoped would be lovely enough to entice him. The 
man stared, openly appraising her. She looked at Carl again, pleading with 
her eyes. He shook his head. She had committed the unpardonable sin. He 
would give her no mercy. She turned away from them, unhooked her bra and 
freed her milk-heavy breasts from the privacy and support of the lace cups. 
The air chilled her nipples. They contracted, leaving tiny blue-white 
bubbles of milk on their tips. She slipped her matching black panties over 
her hips and off. She had pictured herself nude again while dressing for the 
evening. Nude after undressing for her husband. Nude under him, making love 
with him. She stood without clothing before a course stranger instead. She 
wasn't nude; she was naked.

The man ordered her to get on the table and lie on her back. She sat on the 
icy metal and swung her legs up. There was no pillow for her head or padding 
beneath her. Only the cold, unyielding surface reflecting her husband's 
cold, unyielding stare. She lay with her arms across her breasts and legs 
pressed tightly together. Carl stood over her while the man fastened leather 
straps to her wrists, pulled her arms away from her breasts, over the sides 
of the table and fastened them to buckles on its legs. He did the same to 
her ankles, splaying her legs uncomfortably. She raised her head and looked 
down at the thick hair covering her mons, wishing it could hide and protect 
her exposed sex. The sharp edges of the table bit into her calfs and upper 
arms. She couldn't believe Carl hated her enough let this brutish stranger 
rape her while he watched. She would soon learn that his hatred was much, 
much deeper.

The man opened a cabinet, removed a steel surgical instrument tray and 
placed it beside her on the table. The cold metal stung her ribs where it 
touched them. She craned her neck to look inside. The instruments were 
sealed in sterile plastic bags. A liquid filled screw top jar lay among 
them. He rubbed his hands with an alcohol soaked swab and pulled on surgical 
gloves. The pungent odor of alcohol summoned childhood memories of 
terrifying doctor's visit and the fear and pain of delivering her daughter. 
Something good had come from those experiences. She knew nothing good could 
come from this one.

They moved to the foot of the bed. The man opened the jar and held it out
to Carl, who emptied the contents of the ebony box into it. He swirled it, 
making the metal objects clink against the glass and each other. He put a 
tray between her widespread knees and emptied the jar into the bottom. She 
strained as hard as she could to see into the tray. Her dark, prominent mons 
hid it from her sight. The men looked into it, oblivious to her desperate 
attempts to see. Pain oozed up into her shoulders and hips from the tension 
on her captive limbs. She lay back to keep the table edges from digging in 
more deeply. Carl looked into the tray as the man discussed the contents. 
Katherine's fear swelled to fill her belly as she listened to their 
incomprehensible conversation.

"I'll implant the disks in the middle of her breasts through incisions under 
them. The rods go straight through the centers of her nipples and lock into 
the disks. That's a bitch to get right but it will keep them from coming 
out."

"Will they show? " Carl asked.

"The disks won't," he replied. "The rods will stick out a half inch or so 
but that's what you want, right?" Carl nodded and stared at her breasts 
while the man continued.

"You might want to wait till the baby's weaned. She won't be able to nurse." 
Carl shrugged.

"She won't have to. I hired a wet nurse. She should be with her now."

"You still might want to reconsider. She's got great tits, man. The rods'll 
keep you from playing with them or sucking on them. Shit, you won't even be 
able to hug or her or lie on top of her." Carl smiled.

"No one's ever going to do any of that again." Katherine's terror increased 
as the man stared down at her breasts and licked his lips.

"The rods and disks are damn hard to take out, man. It's real surgery and 
makes a hell of a mess! Fucks up the milk ducts, too. They'll probably stay 
tender indefinitely. You sure you want me to put them in?" Carl nodded.

The man shrugged and looked between her legs. Katherine instinctively tried 
to pull her knees together. The table bit deeper into her calfs.

"You want me to do her cunt or tits first?"

"I don't care," Carl replied. Katherine sobbed and pleaded with them to 
stop. They ignored her.

"OK" he said agreeably. "I'll warm up on her cunt too. That's easier."


Ladyvet, 2000

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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