This is my first attempt at writing erotica, would love some constructive feedback and/or encouragement to continue the story. Hope you enjoy!
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Isobel took a deep breath to settle her nerves. The city was still very new to her, despite the handful of times she’d visited. She held a piece of paper upon which she had hastily scrawled the address of the place. She wasn’t sure quite what to expect. It was all very secretive, as was requested. Getting the stars aligned for this weekend certainly felt like an accomplishment, but from here on out, nothing was certain. She held up the scrap of paper, comparing it to the street sign.
“26 Belmont”
The instructions were to wait for a call to get the address. The phone had rung once, and she held in her hand the conversation’s entire transcript. The address didn’t match anywhere she had been on previous trips.
She took the crosswalk, her step slowing now as her destination loomed closer. The secrecy of the ‘where’ and the ‘what’ were contrasted with the absolute certainty of the ‘whom.’
‘The Surgeon’, or Ingrid to her friends, had quite the reputation. While Isobel had yet to play with her, she knew that Doctor Ingrid’s play-style was everything that “Surgeon” implied. That, would also be a first for poor Isobel.
The arrangement had been requested and negotiated by Isobel’s girlfriend, Kate. They had both discussed the bones of the idea, but always in generalities. The specifics were where the true frisson lay, and those were always best discovered in the moment.
Besides, it wasn’t like Isobel wouldn’t be able to take what was going to be dished out. Isobel was a masochist, almost to a religious extent. Her suffering was her ambrosia, her sacrifice. No, it wouldn’t just be pain behind the door of number twenty-six.
“26”
The numbers were in gold lettering, centered on a large, aged green door; it’s stylings at least a century out of fashion. Isobel fumbled with the oversized door knocker. “Goths” she chuckled to herself. She heard the clicking of high heels behind the door, which clicked and creaked open, to reveal Misha, Ms Ingrid’s lovely they-friend and submissive, dressed neck to toe in glossy white latex. Their short hair was coiffed to perfection, giving something between ‘50s greaser and ‘20s homosexual barber.
“Right this way, Ms Isobel” they gestured in towards the black and white checker tiled hallway. She complied and said nothing, but handed over her coat to Misha’s waiting hand once the door had been shut.
Isobel slowly walked down the hallway, marveling at the restored woodwork, from back before the city’s grand avenue homes had been sliced and diced into condominiums. She could just make out a voice coming from behind an upstairs door.
“Ms Ingrid will be down to see you soon, may I fetch you water or tea?”
Isobel cleared her throat and spoke for the first time “Tea, thank you so much”
“Right away… Izzy, right?”
“Yes, Izzy and Isobel are both fine”
“Nice to meet you Izzy!” they declared over their shoulder as they disappeared through the door at the end of the hall.
Isobel waited. The conversation upstairs seems to have been over the phone because there was only one voice. Not loud enough to make out many words, but she caught something that sounded like “are you sure” before the conversation faded again. The house was quiet, and she found herself perusing the art on the walls. Whomever decorated had been very bold in selecting art for the home’s entrance. Bodies in pain, bodies in ecstasy, some praying to god, some invoking the devil. And then, here and there, in between the framed images were artifacts; old-timey doctoring kit that ranged from a rusty stethoscope to set of sized speculums that bore the marks of refurbishment after long disuse.
A shiny glint then caught Isobel’s eye from across the room. A thin metal rod with T-shaped handle on one end. Isobel’s stomach dropped when she realized what she was looking at. She did not know where someone would go looking for such an infamous object, but the understanding of its original purpose and use were enough to fill her imagination with horror.
She was broken out of her trance by the sound of a door and footsteps on the second floor hallway. In a feat of perfect timing, Misha reappeared from the kitchen, tea in hand. Gratefully accepting the teacup & saucer, Isobel turned her attention to the pair of exquisite green leather boots descending the creaking stairs, extracting a confession of each floorboard’s exact age. Her trousers and then the rest of her came into view, revealing the ensemble; late Edwardian lady doctor, with an elaborate and gorgeous up-do, wire frame circle glasses, and suspenders over a white button-down shirt with puffy sleeves. “Truly, this lady plays the part” Isobel thought to herself.
“Miss?” the doctor asked quizzically.
“Yes! Thank you! I think we met once before at that samhain party?” Isobel stammered
“Yes, I remember” the doctor averted her gaze and stifled a grin.
Isobel’s cheeks flushed, she took a deep breath. “I’m here for an Operation, Kate referred me”
“I know, come upstairs and have tea with me, and we’ll chat about what’s going to happen to you” she was smiling now as she turned to climb the stairs again.
Isobel followed.
The second floor drawing room was an eclectic mix of vintage colors and textures with the many exotic plants that crowded the windows. Isobel made a mental note of the color palette while sipping her tea.
“My dear Sock found the parcel you mentioned” the lady doctor said, entering the room and taking the seat opposite Isobel at the small cafe table next to one of the big windows.
“Sock?”
“Oh, you know them as Misha. Sock is their pet name that I picked. They wanted something humiliating and topical. Perverts, amiright?”
“That is kind of hilarious” Isobel chuckled
The doctor opened the parcel and withdrew a set of 3 keys on a ring. “These are important? What are these for?” her raised eyebrow indicating that she already knew the answer but wanted it anyway.
“Well, Ms Ingrid, those…are for my chastity belt” Isobel’s cheeks turned a much deeper shade of red.
“Your chastity belt, well now…” she leaned back in her seat “show me.”
“Ms Ingrid, please…” the words died in her throat. She knew her role in this situation. Do what the good doctor orders. “Yes, doctor”
Ingrid unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to her ankles. Using her thumbs, she pulled down her tights and panties together.
The good doctor’s face lit up as she took in what she saw.
Isobel knew what it looked like. Her constant unyielding companion for the past weeks. Its metal embrace giving a kind of solace, almost an apology for the maelstrom it both caused and contained. Its simple design failed to betray the effect it had upon its wearer. To anyone else, it was a work of art, silver and gold layered in something approaching art deco, with its angles and proportions.
“Your Governess insisted to me that you not have any chance of touching yourself, or even seeing yourself down there before the procedure. We will need to clean you down there so you will be blinded for that part”
Isobel gulped.
“Once we have you situated in the operating theater, we will give you a mirror so you can see what we’re doing. There will be no anesthetic, and we will take measures to ensure you remain still for the duration.”
“Yes, that is in line with what I was expecting” Isobel uttered with a gulp
“So now i’m going to tell you what i’m going to do to you. Do you mind if I record this part for posterity? Also your girlfriend asked if she could see your face for this part.”
Isobel, wide-eyed, could only nod.
“Excellent! …and there… we go, recording!”
The lady doctor gathered herself.
“You, lady Isobel, are going to have an operation. During the procedure, I will have a very sharp needle and some very special thread, and I will use them to close you up for good. All of your sensitive bits are going to be sewn together and fused into a mesh of carbon fiber string. You will wear this until the time your Governess decides to reverse the procedure, but my guess is this is going to be permanent for you, my dear.”
Tears were now streaming down Isobel’s face. This is what she feared the most.
“Are you ready to hear more?” The doctor tried to contain her giddiness.
Isobel shuddered, and nodded.
“I have designed this mesh in such a way that your arousal will cause you tremendous pain (but no damage!) to your most sensitive places. You will need to learn to control your arousal if you want to avoid that pain. Orgasms are obviously impossible. The pain escalates with increased arousal, to the point where even you would probably black out.”
Isobel was becoming inconsolable. “How could she do this to me?!” she asked herself, was Kate really that cruel? Didn’t Kate enjoy their sex life? Sure, Isobel had brought the idea of chastity into the relationship, but she didn’t expect Kate would go this far.
“Ms Isobel, when you’ve gathered yourself, I need you to look into the camera and repeat after me”
Isobel swallowed her tears and looked into the camera’s black eye, imagining Kate watching this on her phone.
“I Isobel”
“I Isobel”
“Being of sound mind and judgment”
“Being of sound mind and judgment”
“Do consent to the procedure just described”
“Do consent to the procedure just described”
“Of my own free will without coercion”
“Of my own free will without coercion”
“To be performed by Ms Ingrid Smythe and company”
“To be performed by Ms Ingrid Smythe and company”
The doctor stopped recording.
“Let’s get you situated, shall we?” she turned in her chair “SOCK!! Come here please!”
