"Are you ready?" I asked her. Of course, she didn’t have much of a choice - she was lying face-up on the operating table, tied down. Her body wrapped in latex, the catsuit clinging to every curve and dip, her hands balled into mittens. Didn’t want her fighting back, after all. The only openings were at her hood - her mouth, her nostrils, the ponytail coming out the back. And most importantly, her eyes - scanning, moving side to side like a cornered animal, staring into the white, antiseptic light. Hoping for meaning, difference. anything to focus on.
Her head was fastened in place, unmoving. I couldn’t risk a single error - I wanted her, not a paralyzed dependent. She kept looking at the light, looking up. “I - I don’t know, Sir. I don’t know if I can do this.”
I patted her leg, my medical latex gloves catching to hers and pulling off with a rustle. “Remember what you said? What you agreed to? You’d give me anything I wanted, remember?” I stood up and smiled down at her, making sure she could see my face. “This is what I want now.” Her mouth dipped into a grimace, souring, her nostrils flaring in alarm. “And I always get what I want - even if you say no.”
She knew I wasn’t lying. She came to me - signed her life over - knowing that I was merciless, cruel. The only time she said no - a week into her service, when I forced her to drink my piss for the first time - I had locked her in a cabinet, naked. I left her in there for a week, in the dark, her only luxury a drip of water running down one corner. When she was let out, she said nothing for a month - she had lost ten pounds, was gaunt and bony. Just like a high fashion model, all hips and shoulders. I decided I liked her that way and kept her - but if she hadn’t dropped to her hands and knees and drank from me right there, I would have left her inside for even longer. I have others. She was a good project, but not special. None of them were.
So when she tensed, when her mouth drew thin and she was quiet, I knew what was coming. She whispered yes - almost too afraid to say it, to give this up. I smiled. “Good girl.” Returning to the instrument table, I turned the microsurgery machine on, and wheeled the display into place. There were four lines for what I needed to do - a flesh-cutter, for entrance, a microblade for the actual surgery, a cauterizer to stem the blood and make it final, and the camera. Simple work: with long-lasting effects. As the computer stirred to life. I turned to her again, the camera in hand - a black finger on the end of a glass string, rainbows in the theatre light.
I reached up and held her face, my thumb rubbing against her rubberized jaw. “Breathe in.” She closed her eyes and inhaled, and I followed the air into her nostrils with the probe. Up her left nostril - I was right handed, so I would use her right nostril for the actual work. I pushed the probe in and further, as she gagged from the unfamiliar presence in her sinuses, her body trying to force me out. I rubbed her jaw again, and pushed once more, feeling the camera fit into place at the back of her sinuses. Turning to the display, I could see the galleries of her sinuses, the probe pointed at the back wall and the bounty beyond. I pulled the display towards me, tilting it so she could see it. “The inside of you.”
She tensed, tried to look away, to see anything else. “I’m scared. Please - please don’t. Anything. Please.” I smiled again, feeling my cock begin to stir at herr pleas. “Shh. It will all be okay soon. No long recovery - just a day in bed. Nothing to be afraid of.” I was lying of course - I hadn’t anesthetized her at all, and cutting through nerve would be physically and emotionally torturous. Just how I liked it.
The first instrument is always the hardest, and the cutter slipped in easily. She tensed again when she saw it enter the camera’s view, the head ridged in spikes. “Now now.” I tapped her on the nose, and she relaxed, the cutter moving into place at the back. I looked towards the display, and pressed the button to start. The cutter began to cut through the cartilage and flesh, opening up a pinhole sized wound, blood beginning to run out. She cried in pain, and I was sure her hands were tensing around the foam in her latex mittens. I tensed too - my cock becoming stiffer, harder from her agony. I’ve always been a sadist. But this was not a time to be too hungry, and I stopped the cutter after barely an inch, removing it with a rustle, the glass line running against her latexed lip. A slow stream of blood followed, draining out of her right nostril - I brushed my index finger against her lip, collecting the blood, then fed my finger into her mouth. She began to suck and lick at it, drawing up her own blood. Good training.
Another trip to the table for the microblade, and I pushed it into her sinuses as well. When it reached the back - when it had rested against the entrance to the cut I had made, I looked at her again. Her eyes were closed, tightly squeezed shut. I shouted at her: “Open them! Look! You will watch this!” She screwed her eyes shut even more, and I retracted the microblade. “Fine.” I slapped her across the face, as hard as I could. She cried again, reeling in pain, but her eyes remained shut. “I planned for this, you stupid cunt.” On the table were a pair of eye-frames. I pried her right eye open, my fingers holding the lids apart, and jammed one in, the metal frame forcing her eye to remain open. She was crying, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, beginning to drip down the side of her face, trying to look away from the screen as I fitted the other eye-frame and replaced the microblade in her right nostril. I turned to the display again and pointed to the microblade, the diamond-edged tip taking up much of the screen. “That is the end of you.” And I pushed it forward, slicing quickly - and she screamed, tensing, screaming as high and as long as she could, like a victim in a slasher film. Which I guess she was, now. “I can’t see! I can’t see!” she cried, beginning to sob, tears pouring out. Her eyes were frantically moving from side to side, up and down, trying to look at anything at all. To find light or warmth. But I had cut her optic nerves - and she would never see again.
My cock was rock-hard now, surging and pushing with each sob she made, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed a handful of tit, twisting as she cried even harder. “That’s what your breasts feel like now. Just unknown aggression: pain. Delicious, isn’t it?” She wailed. “Now hold still or I will burn another sense away.” I returned to her nose with the cauterizer. The body was a magical thing, and it would repair itself unless I stopped her. And I wanted her sightless forever. As I began to seal the cut nerves, she continued to cry, the scent of burnt flesh filling her nose. Nasty smell, that. But with a moment’s work, it was done, the spot filled with burn and scar, her body unable to repair itself.
I pulled the camera and the cauterizer out, a wave of mucus pouring from her nose as she blubbered, the blood having stopped. She was wailing, wordlessly, in unspeakable pain. I removed the eye frames and placed two foam circles on her eyelids, then taped them to her hood. “Protective measures for your eyes now. Not that it matters. The surgery is done. Thank you for your gift, slave.” She wailed again.
I hit a lever on the operating table, dropping it to below waist height. Undoing the drawstring of my surgical scrubs, I pulled out my cock - the head almost purple, so engorged with blood, I was so turned on. I was now standing above her, and I leaned down slightly, running my cock under her nose, across her lips. “Do you know what this is, girl? Can you smell it? Taste it? See it?” She cried harder, and I smiled at my own joke. “It’s a cock, of course - my cock - all you live for. Do your job in gratitude for me taking your gift.”
I shoved my cock into her mouth, giving her no option to refuse as she cried and wailed around me. The wailing was good, it opened up her throat as i straddled her and shoved myself down her throat. I could feel a bit of blood back there, that must have drained out into her mouth during the surgery. Whatever. I held her head in both my hands and began to facefuck her, pushing in and out of her mouth, not caring about her hurt or her pain, bottoming out in her throat and pulling out to the tip of her tongue before pushing in again. I had been so turned on - and I was still so, by her crying - that it didn’t take me long to come, my cock hardening one last time and then letting go, spurts of cum jetting down her throat. One came back out through her sinuses, a white rope playing across her face. I pulled out and began to clean up. “Nurse, take her away.”
The slave who had been waiting outside the door entered - an older slave, in a latex nurse costume and featureless hood. She had her sight still, but no mouth - she could offer no reassurance to my blind patient. It was important that she suffered in solitude. The nurse knew her job - to leave the patient hogtied in a dark cell for the next week (not that she could tell.) She had done it twice today already, after all.