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Chapter 7
The smell of breakfast woke Patricia from her slumber. Stretching, she left her bed and slipped into her robe before making the trek to the kitchen, slightly afraid Bill might have come home early from his trip.
“Hungry,” Jasmine asked when she saw Patricia enter the kitchen.
“Ravenous!” Patricia said. “If it’s half as good as it smells I may snap it from your fingers like a wild dog!”
“Bad girl!” Jasmine admonished, relishing the omen of things to come.
“Yes, but when I am bad I can be so good!” Patricia replied with a laugh.
“Sit down. I’ll bring it all over in a sec,” she was told.
“You got it.”
“Patricia, I was wondering…” Jasmine began. “And I hope you aren’t upset by my asking but…well, what is it exactly that you are so afraid of with Bill?”
“Jaz, you don’t know what he can do to me,” Patricia said in a serious tone. “You don’t know how susceptible I am to him. It’s like I disappear; become an object – whatever object he wants me to be. I lose everything….my personality, my drive, my wants and needs. Jaz, I lose everything that makes me who I am.”
“Bill told me it was you who left him, though,” Jasmine responded. “You couldn’t have been completely gone.”
Patricia frowned and looked away, remembering her life with Bill. “Jasmine, because of Bill I can’t cum today without being ordered to do so or without someone saying ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and I haven’t been with him for years. Because of him I thought that ruining my…well, you know, was a good idea. I can barely feel it when something is inside of me. There were other things, too; things with worse consequences.”
“What do you mean?” Jasmine asked.
“God, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this,” she said, her face reddening slightly.
“Hey, Trish, we’re friends. You can tell me anything. You should know that,” Jasmine said sympathetically.
“Okay. He gave me enemas. A lot of enemas. At first it was just occasionally. After awhile it got to be twice a day. As if that weren’t enough, he kept me plugged constantly. When one plug got comfortable he gave me a bigger plug. It got so I was never without one.”
Jasmine put their breakfast on to the table and eased herself into the seat across from Patricia. “That’s kind of erotic. I sort of miss the days when Bill and I engaged in that sort of thing.”
“It was erotic. Fuck if it doesn’t turn me on when I think about it,” she admitted. “But Jasmine, I can’t go to the bathroom like most people can.”
“I don’t understand,” Jasmine said. “Some sort of psychological block?”
“No. That’s not it,” Patricia said. “It started with the enemas. I couldn’t go without them. But then the stretching…Jaz, I lost the ability to push. The stretching did something to the muscles in my…in my butt. I spent so much time getting stretched and being filled that I have no control at all. What’s more, I am extremely sensitive down there. I get so fucking aroused when I give myself enemas that I can hardly stand it.”
Patricia listened, aroused by the details being presented, imagining the scenarios. “Even after so many years?”
“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” Patricia said. “It’s not so easy, Jaz. I mean, I could go if…I could go if it built up. It would push out on its own. Or, I think it would. That’s why I keep myself plugged if I can’t give myself an enema.”
“What do you mean?” Jasmine asked, wanting more details.
“Okay…God, this is hard to say. When I left Bill I was plugged and had been getting an enema twice a day,” she said, her face reddening more. “But, since I couldn’t go to the bathroom normally, I had to keep giving myself enemas. But because I had no control, I kept myself plugged so I wouldn’t have an…an accident.”
“So, you are in the same shape now as you were years ago?” Jasmine asked, becoming more aroused. “You’re plugged right now?”
“Yes and no. I mean, I still use the enemas, but I’m not plugged now,” Patricia said. “If I think I won’t be able to give myself another enema I plug myself so I don’t have an accident.”
“Here is what I don’t understand,” Jasmine said. “Why didn’t you just get some adult diapers for awhile…until your ass got back into shape?”
“I did. It didn’t work,” Patricia replied. “I was able to go. But, I wasn’t able to go until it got to be kind of painful. When it got better I still had no control. Finally, after a few months of that, I decided I would rather be plugged and deal with enemas than…well, it was not pretty. So, I do the enemas and, when I have to, the plug.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine lied. “I guess Bill sort of left you with a…mess. Sorry. That wasn’t a joke.”
“Don’t worry. I know you wouldn’t say anything to hurt my feelings. Besides, it’s my fault, too,” Patricia sighed, sipping at the juice Jasmine had given her.
“I guess,” Jasmine whispered. “Trish, I want to ask you a question. I know it may seem odd but I want to ask it and see what you say.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“You say you fade around Bill and sort of lose your personality. Is it a bad thing or a good thing? I mean, does it feel good?”
Patricia smiled distantly. “It feels good. It feels so good I never want to come back.”
“Trish, not to be harsh but you don’t have anyone but me and Bill. We love you and I am pretty sure you love us,” Jasmine said.
“Of course I do,” Patricia said, smiling. “You guys are wonderful.”
“What would be the harm of staying here indefinitely? I mean, I know you aren’t into girls but I think we could be your family and I noticed that what happened didn’t seem to turn you off.”
“Jaz, I appreciate what you are saying and it’s nice to know you feel that way about me. But, I don’t like girls and it was a turn off,” Patricia told her. “It’s just that…when he turns on that voice; when he commands me…it just turns off my brain and turns on my sex drive. Anything he tells me to do sounds good, even if…hell, especially if I don’t want to do it”
“Okay, so you’re a bit of a humiliation slut. What’s so bad about that? He can do that to me, too,” Jasmine said.
“It’s not the same for you,” Patricia pleaded. “He doesn’t make you forget who you are and he can’t make you want to do things you really don’t want to do or make you believe you’re something you aren’t..”
Jasmine sat quietly, deciding what to say next. Despite her plans to force her friend into slavery she still hoped to convince her to stay and be their willing sex toy.
“Jaz,” Patricia began, her voice soft. “I don’t want to be a thing; not even for people I love as much as you guys. I want to be a woman. I want to be treated like a woman, I don’t want to be reduced into some sort of mindless toy. And I know Bill. He would make me a thing or an animal or I don’t know what.”
“Trish, and I am not accusing you of lying, but I just can’t imagine anyone having that kind of power over another human being. What you’re suggesting he can do to you is hard to imagine,” Jasmine told her as she continued her friendly interrogation.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Patricia smiled. “Jaz, have you seen that coffee table with the hinged top?”
“You mean the slave table that exposes part of your back? The one with the places you can put your arms and legs in and be locked into?”
“He had me in it for a month, Jaz. I never once complained. He fed me with a tube that fed directly into my stomach,” Patricia told her. “I had a catheter; a bag for pee and some sort of pump that filled my intestines with water and then sucked it out. When he was gone he had me chanting ‘I am a table, an object of convenience’ over and over. Jaz, I thought I was a table. I really did.”
“What happened when he took you out?”
“I don’t really know. Mostly, there was confusion,” Patricia admitted. “I do remember feeling like I must have done something wrong. I couldn’t really think and it took me forever to make simple decisions.”
“You really believed?” Jasmine said, doubting her friend.
“Yes, Jaz, I did. I remember that, when he sat a beer on the table – on me – or ate on me, I was happy and proud. When he changed me back I was sad. Then, when I realized how easily I had become a thing I was sad. I was proud, too. Mostly, though, I was sad because it was so easy to make me forget who I really was.”
“See that?” Jasmine said. “You didn’t really forget. You just let go.”
“I forgot, Jaz. It took several weeks for me to remember who I was. Can’t you understand? Whenever he made me be something I became that thing. And each time it was longer,” Patricia said, exasperated. “Think about it, Jasmine, I still can’t cum unless someone says ‘Auld Lang Syne’ or tells me to cum. And…you don’t know this but…when I see Bill I sort of go a little blank and wait for him to tell me what to do. He just…he programmed me too well.”
Realizing her opportunity, Jasmine nearly jumped, asking “Does it work when anyone says ‘Auld Lang Syne’ or just when he says it?”
Patricia’s eyes widened for a moment and she let out a small staccato grunt, a small orgasm radiating out from her sex. “It’s when anyone says it.”
“What about if someone tells you to cum? What if I told you to cum? Would you cum?” Jasmine asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I feel kind of guilty for being so curious about this,” Jasmine lied. “Can I try? Just to see?”
Patricia smiled and cocked her head and smiled. “Do I sense a bit of a dominatrix coming out?”
“Call it professional curiosity. Bill likes to control everything in our sex life – especially my orgasms. I saw how he controlled yours and, well, I sort of want to see if it could be used by anyone else or just him.”
“That’s all, huh? Are you sure you aren’t testing me to see if you can have a similar effect as Bill?” Patricia joked, unsuspecting of her friend’s true intentions. “Go ahead and give it a try. You already know that ‘Auld Lang Syne’ works.”
“Cum for me,” Jasmine commanded.
“Hmm,” Patricia said. “Looks like it doesn’t work.”
“One more time. I think I might not have said it right,” Jasmine said.
Patricia laughed. “Okay. One more time.”
“Cum for me, Trish. Cum for me now,” Jasmine commanded, her voice steady, deep and stern.
Patricia winced slightly as she fought off the urge to climax. “Nope. Doesn’t work when you say it,” she lied.
“Well, we still have New Years Eve, don’t we?” Jasmine laughed, ignoring Patricia’s obvious susceptibility.
“Bitch!” Patricia replied, laughing back. “Finish your damned breakfast.”
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