BDSM Story – We Always Hurt The Ones We Love Most

We Always Hurt The Ones We Love Most

by little red

Introduction.

Everyone’s life takes a turn occasionally. Doesn’t it? Most people follow the wrong road for the wrong reason; I chose the wrong road for the right reasons. I did it because I wanted to.

24 hours, doesn’t seem long enough to give an accurate account of the last few years. Does it?

What would it help to accomplish?

“Helps the healing process” they said. “Sharing the burden of the hideous crimes” they said.

I chuckle quietly to myself as I sit here in the dimly lit room.

“The burden of my crimes.” What a sentence,

“What a total disregard and lack of empathy for others” said the man who claimed to be my judge.

” A terrible crime which due to the instability of the accused” instability, now there’s a word.

I had never been unstable in my life. I knew what I was doing and why I had done it. In all honesty we had enjoyed every moment.

Beginning.

Dear friend,

Everything is still so clear in my mind; I remember taking the first steps up the path as the snow fell around me, dusting the road which I walked upon with purity, wiping the slate clean so to speak.

I was greeted by two nurses and they walked me down the pale blue corridors to my office. I was in awe when I stood there for the first time.

Funny how something which can have such an effect on someone the first time they see it soon becomes mundane and overlooked.

I remember now, how the new leather smelt so refreshing, and the desk which I sat at for so long was polished to a crisp sheen. My favorite thing about my room was the view. It over looked the central gardens of the facility. Here I could sit and watch my patients grow and expand as I provided the help and support they needed.

I had an uneventful first few months as I recall nothing out of the ordinary. Then one day a man brought a young woman in to see me. He sat and told me all about her.

To be honest I didn’t hear a word of it.

The light was catching her long red hair through the cracks of the blinds, enhancing the golden highlights of the wisps that hung over her delicate sea blue eyes.

The man passed me her bag and put her medical notes down on my desk. He kissed her cheek softly as he left the room.

For a few minutes I sat on the corner of the desk, looking at her, not a muscle did she move. She didn’t even turn her head to look at me.

Confused I seated myself in my chair and flicked through her notes.

“So Sam, is it?” I said introducing myself “never spoken a word, surely such a lovely little pretty thing like you has plenty to say” I said in jest looking for a reaction. She nether looked or moved. So I shrugged my shoulders and helped her to her feet.

Like an innocent child she let me lead her by the shoulders, down to the nurse’s inpatient department.

Once she was taken off my hands by the staff nurse I went back to my office.

I wracked my brains for weeks, trying to make her talk or show some kind of emotion. I played music for her during our sessions; I even read stories to her. Nothing helped; she just sat there looking at her hands.

I was her doctor it was my job to find out what was wrong with her and cure her if at all possible.

Everything I tried failed.

It had been raining that day, I watched Sam from my window as she sat there motionless as usual on the bench. Her soaking wet red hair in thick messy strands running down to the base of her spine.

I watched the nurses try and usher the others indoors as the rain became heavier and more persistent, as she just sat there staring at her hands.

It was 12.55 and our session would start at 1.00.

I always looked forward to our sessions together, she always listened never complained, I saw her as a challenge. Shed never spoken or shown emotion.

I was going to be the one who changed all that; I was going to become famous for doing the impossible and at the same time teach her about the world around her.

Just as the clock was chiming, the door opened and she made her entrance. I laughed a little when I was how soaking wet she was and asked the nurse to fetch us a towel and comb.

She was never late, I hated tardiness the nurses knew that.

I sat her down opposite me and put Bach on for her to listen to, as I gathered my things.

I always expected to catch a glimpse of her smiling or tapping her feet from the corner of my eye.

I wrapped the towel around her and rubbed her down, making sure to properly dry her off, before commencing with the brush.

I stood behind her and gently pulled the comb through her vivacious scarlet red hair, taking care with each and every stroke, as I talked to her.

I was just rambling really and she was sitting, listening intently and as usual staring at her hands.

I loved the way her hair fell as I brushed it, I moved in closer. Her hair smelled so sweet.

This was the first time id ever felt this close to her. I could hear her breathing; I could smell the sweetness of her skin and felt the softness of her hair.

As I looked downward I noticed a small trickle of blood start to ebb down the inside of her thigh, just beneath the hem of the white cotton dress.

I took the towel and began to wipe it clean, slowly tracing it back to its origins.

She was neither embarrassed nor upset that she had her period, and she didn’t seem to mind me tending to her.

I called the nurse and had her taken care of. I wanted to show her I cared for her.

The next time we met I had decided to use the classic ‘couch’ method, in the hopes she would relax a little more and open up to me.

I help her carefully to lye down and sat in the chair in front of her so she could watch me as I spoke.

I decided to take a different approach and told her of my wife and my life at home, I loved the way she never interrupted me not like my wife. She always had a lot of nothing to say.

She sat so still listening to my every word; I slowly got up from my seat and knelt down by her side stroking her soft hair. Although she showed no emotion I could tell she liked the human contact.

Moving forward slowly I kissed her forehead lightly, she never moved. I slowly slipped my fingers down the front of her beautiful white dress.

I’d seen that dress so many times before but never had it looked so captivating as it did adorning her fragile figure.

I could feel it in my heart she wanted me.

Gracefully I climbed onto the couch with her and for the first time we kissed.

I held her so tightly in my arms.

She was sweetly silent.

Putting my fingers delicately inside her tight hole I could feel her hymen was intact, pulling her closer to my body I whispered quietly in her ear “I know now”.

I waited patiently till the next session. Planning everything carefully down to the last meticulous detail I even bought her a rose.

She came in looking her usual radiant self and lay down on the couch ready for me. She must have been dreaming of this moment as well.

Once alone I locked the door, for privacy.

She was so tight and so wet; I could feel every bump inside her.

I watched her face closely as I broke through her virginity. She must have been waiting for me. We understood each other and I knew now why she was, how she was.

Not once during the act did she ever say no, I looked into her face the whole time.

Afterwards I kissed her and cleaned her up ready to be taken back to her room. I felt I was really starting to get somewhere with her.

From then on her visits continued in the same manner. I tried my best to perform well for her, to show her all the joys of life.

One night I was working late.

I was walking down the corridor to go home and I noticed her door was slightly ajar, I slowly approached it; to my absolute horror there was the janitor.

I couldn’t contain my fury; I swung my bag around and hit him harshly then started to lash out uncontrollably. This is the only time in my life I could have deemed myself to have been irrational or unstable.

I only stopped when I saw the pool of blood enlarging on the floor. When I bent down to him I could tell he was dead.

I heard the coroner’s inquest, I was told he had only been dead 2 days at the most, but they are deceiving you I assure you my friend when I put him in that box and buried him he was dead.

Taking into account the amount of air one would have needed for seven days below ground I don’t see how it would be possible for him to go nine days they are lying.

He was dead when I buried him.

It was Easter when all this was happening; I remember being interviewed before going to my parents for dinner.

They couldn’t pin it on me then.

Months elapsed and things gradually got back to normal at the hospital.

Of course Sam was a little distraught about the whole ordeal, but she never showed it. She put a brave face on, for me I guess. She was always so quiet and composed, almost unheard of in this day and age.

I always looked through her notes. Looking for any detail no matter how small, that might give me an indication of how to help her further.

I remember the day I saw the jotted scribble at the side of her notes it’s as vivid as if it happened yesterday. 2 weeks overdue it said.

How could this be? I’d always been so careful, the janitor was no longer a suspect was he.

I knew what it would mean if she skipped a month. I also knew they’d test her and things and then they’d split us up.

I couldn’t have handled being split up for my darling Sam. She meant so much to me. I would have to find a way around this.

Few several days I thought and thought about it. I decided the only way around this was to make out she had escaped and hide her somewhere, but where?

I scouted round till I found a disused pump room under the hospital; I watched it carefully for a week till I decided it would be safe. Smuggling in things I needed or things I might have needed and a little tinned food. I spent my nights planning the ‘break out’ I would do it carefully; I wouldn’t use my key as they would know. I’d have to damage the lock somehow.

Believe me so much meticulous planning went into it nothing was forgotten. I even made provisions for the child, although I didn’t plan on staying there that long. I was going to ask her to run away with me.

On our next session I told her about my plans. She sat so quietly, never uttered a word. She just stared at her hands. I was so pleased she agreed with me.

The following night everything went smoothly, I had made her a small bed beneath the pumps hidden out of sight. I knew she would be a good girl. I led her in and laid her down.

As I put the chains around her hands I explained to her they were just a precaution and that I trusted her implicitly. She understood.

There was a big stink about it the next day, no more than usual I thought for an escapee.

I waited a day till it had calmed down a little before going down to her.

I had with me a bag of instruments. I had researched how to do an abortion, it didn’t look that difficult. Neither of us wanted the baby we had talked about it. As usual she was compliant.

Once there I gathered her restraints and tied her fast, roping her legs to the surrounding pipes. I didn’t want her moving incase I slipped and caused her serious harm.

I stood my torch on the bag and kissed her sweet thighs as I pulled down her panties. Even I have to admit the smell was horrendous. I had remembered everything except somewhere for her to excrete into. I gathered some clothes from upstairs and came back with water and disinfectant.

Slowly I began to clean her up’ she lay so peacefully as I did this’.

I loved to watch her skin shimmer in the dim lighting.

After she was cleaned up I started with the procedure. She lay perfectly still the whole time, Even when I slipped when the torch fell over and cut her deep inside.

My dear friend I would never hurt her intentionally.

There was so much blood, I had to fetch more water to clean it up, but still she lay there totally trusting me.
I had to stitch her deep inside the cut was rather bad. After a few days I realized the attempted abortion hadn’t worked. The blood was solely from the cut.

She didn’t mind, she sat there as she always did staring at her hands.

So there she stayed. I fed her and changed her everyday. I couldn’t wait for work to finish so I could be with her, sometimes intimately. This got rather difficult as her belly grew.

I would lie with her in the darkness stroking her belly and watching it move, caressing her hair and talking about what we were going to do when I left my wife. Well I did all the talking she listened intently as usual.
‘My dear Sam how I miss you so.’

Then that day came last spring. I had finished work and went so see my beloved, something was different about her.

I bent down and kissed her, then I noticed her belly rising. I put my fingers inside her to see if it really was time. She was 9 cm’s dilated. My poor, poor baby shed been in labor possibly since the night before and I hadn’t known or been there to help her.

I tied her legs up and open ready for the moment when the baby showed its little head.

Time was running on, I started to worry, it had been hours.

I had checked her every 20 minutes; still there was no sign of the baby. She wasn’t even pushing or panting.
I kept looking at my watch, it was late and my wife would be worried. I raced to my office and rang her. I don’t even remember what I blurted out as an excuse.

The night staffs were on and I got some quizzing looks as I walked down that pale blue corridor that night. As I reached the maintenance hatch I heard the loudest scream id ever heard in my entire life.

The whole hospital had heard it.

I ran through the door and down the steps to where I kept her.

I stood in absolute silence.

There she was legs and arms tied as I had left her. There was a dark purple blob hanging from her vagina, at first I thought she had the baby then I looked closer. The babies’ body was out, feet first and the head was still lodged inside her.

She looked so different. Her beautiful blue eyes were closed tight shut.

I heard footsteps behind me and saw a few of the night staff coming down the stairs. I rushed over to my beloved Sam and pulled the babies head from inside her.

He was so tiny, so frail and just like his mother he didn’t move or cry, he just lay there contently with his little eyes tight shut.

My baby boy was grabbed from me and I was pulled to the floor by the staff.

Dear friend, I never have believed they were dead. They are hiding them in a secret facility somewhere, away from me.

Sam, my dear Sam we always hurt the ones we love the most.

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