The 5 Stages of Grief

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Chapter 9, Mrs. Reichmann

It was the buzzing or rather the lack of, that woke her. She had no idea what time it might be. She opened her eyes, just a squint, but the bag covering her head revealed little to her senses. It was dark outside, night, she’d guessed that much as the glow from the inside lights where she sat tied to a chair slipped through the weave of the bag.

Something happened earlier, something he’d not expected. He had told her what it was, but she’d forgotten. It was understandable considering the circumstances, she was lucky to remember her own name. She’d heard him talking to her back then, in the beginning. A low mumbling voice, one she thought she should know, did know but was disguised as if pretending to be someone else.

She heard the screen door to the back-yard off the kitchen open then the door itself. She began to cry, it was all she could do. She was gagged and tied captive to a chair and all she could do was shudder, weep, relieve herself. She knew she sat bottomless – she could feel the plush material against her skin – though otherwise, at least for the time, she remained fully clothed. She’d woken like this in the beginning. After he’d surprised her.

The buzzing— Oh, she remembered now! It had brought her to, awakened her. It had been much more powerful then, nearly rattling her teeth. She hadn’t seen them, but she knew what they were. One had been put in each entrance and turned on before she’d been tied to the chair – at least that was her best guess. It’s how she’d woken the first time. Bound, gagged, this hood or sack covering her head and her insides sizzling in vibration as if liquid electricity were being spewed, unrestricted, into her most intimate parts.

She hadn’t been able to help it in the beginning before he started his…” She sobbed with the memory though no sound escaped her stretched and trembling lips, just a gob of snot that shot from her nose to cover the already disgusting rag in her mouth. The orgasms, in the beginning, had come one after the other – rapid fire. She hadn’t known she could have them like that, multiple. She’d never had before. She had heard about it, read about it, but had never thought she could, never really cared. She had always figured sex was simply a means to an end. A way to get what you wanted when all else failed.

He began to cut the remainder of her clothing off, one item at a time and as much as she tried to control it, she could not. It added to her arousal, her orgasms, causing them to come faster and faster, building, combining, until they all blended, twisting into one long uncontrollable release without beginning or end. Pulsing waves of pleasure filling her every sense.

His voice, low, whispered nonsense in her ear, coaxing her along. It had been so slow, unhurried, the orgasms so powerful, all-consuming and she’d still been quite intoxicated, groggy from whatever he’d done to knock her out. So much so, that she’d not noticed as he cut every shred of clothing from her body. Not until he sliced the final strap of her brazier did she realize how much trouble she was in. The release of tension in the elastic and the cold air on her breasts bringing her back to the moment, the reality of the situation.

She’d tried to struggle, but that did nothing more than tighten her already tight bonds, almost choking herself out with the noose tightening around her neck. He wouldn’t do or say a thing. He’d stand to the side until she was finished with her theatrics, neither admonishing her nor getting angry, as if he had all the time in the world.

Then the pain came.

At first, she’d thought he’d burned her and was reminded again, that she couldn’t yell or squirm or do anything. It was so intense, so sharp and seemed to go on and on forever. She was convinced she would have passed out except for the constant buzzing, the vibrating going on between her legs quivering every nerve ending in her body, the orgasms keeping her awake, for the most part.

It had taken a while before she understood he was not burning her at all but cutting her, peeling the skin from her living body. It was that realization, the undeniable truth she was helpless, unable to do anything but choke herself, which allowed her to pass from consciousness for the first time since the nightmare had begun.

The pungent odor of smelling salts brought her to her senses so violently she almost strangled herself to death, wished she had, but didn’t have the courage to follow through. Some will to remain alive continued to overpower her, make her endure the agony she knew would continue.

It did. Slow… patient… one length at a time. She lost count how many times she’d faded in and out, even the pain seemed to subside, each cut, each strip bleeding into the next. She couldn’t tell where he was working any longer, peeling her, her nerve ending lying to her, amalgamating, no longer starting and stopping. But not the buzzing – the buzzing reminded her, let her know she was still alive.

He was beside her now. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. It was a shock when the bag was lifted and the brightness from the lights stabbed her eyes. Colored spots danced before her, refused to give way to vision.

“You should have been kinder to the Doctor. He was nothing but good to you. He did his best to please you.”

He was coming into focus now. She knew that voice, even though it was still so weird, so—

“And how did you repay his kindness? You took and took and took until he’d nothing left to give. You evil bitch.”

“Please…” she whimpered, finally recognizing who it was, realizing she’d known all along. “I will give you anything… do anything…” She broke unconditionally.

Too little, too late.

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