To Have And To Hold

Chapter 2

M.C.C.

"I see there's something else the drug hasn't affected", Christy said with a smirk. She was staring at my crotch. "I think it's time we got you in bed." With that the wheel chair started moving again, but not towards the big bed in the master bedroom. Instead, we headed down the hall, into the guest bedroom. Mrs. Rogers and Mrs. Davis joined us.

Sometime during the day, between the time I had gone to work and the time I had gotten home, these three ladies had apparently been doing some redecorating of my house, for the guest bedroom had had all of its furniture removed, and had been turned into a defacto hospital room. Two genuine hospital beds were set in the room, each with its own overhead table, and several carts with hospital-looking equipment were placed against the wall. I wondered why there were two beds, but couldn't have asked at the moment, even if I had wanted to. Wheeled up beside one of them, I was again lifted with the patient hoist, and placed onto the mattress. I noted that a sheet of sheepskin padding had been placed on top of the mattress. It was tickling the exposed part of mu butt.

After I was situated in the bed, the head and foot sections were raised, and in short order I was in a reclined, sitting position in bed, encased in a bodycast that had to be at least two inches thick all around. The endotrachial tube was disconnected from the portable respirator attached to the wheelchair, and was hooked up to a large respirator unit on one of the carts next to the bed. Large gas cylinders next to the cart hinted at things to come. While Mrs. Davis was doing that, Mrs. Rogers pulled an IV stand next to the bed. Hanging from it was a bag of milky liquid. With sure deftness, she connected the bag to the small tube that had been threaded though mm nose and down into my stomach, and started the fluid dripping. I was being fed. This done, the two healthcare professionals left the room, closing the door. Christy walked around to the end of the bed, where I could see her. "My, but you do look delicious", she said. With that, she removed the surgical hood that had contained her hair, and let it fall down around her shoulders. The gloves came off next, followed by the surgical gown. Underneath, she had on one of the old-fashioned black-silk corsets I had bought her a few months before. Eight garters on each leg held up sheer black stockings. Tightly laced, the corset squeezed her waist down to a scant 19 inches. She had apparently been wearing this during the entire time I was being casted, and, remembering how much she liked it and how much it turned her on, I imagined she was in a very excited state at the moment. Walking around to the side of the bed, she straddled me, and much to my amazement, everything fit into place, even with the thick cast. As she gently started rocking her body against mine, she traced her finger along the cast around my neck and head, touching the skin around my eyes that was still exposed. Leaning back against the leg casts, her rythem increased, and she grabbed my hands, running her fingers between each padded finger.

Not being able to move, all I could do was watch and experience it. Of course, I was also enjoying the hell out of it, and could feel her hot wetness, and at the same time realized there was nothing I could do. In fact, a sensation in my stomach reminded me that I was being fed at the moment. Fed and fucked, both at the same time, and I wasn't moving my body an inch. Even my breathing was being done for me. I was totally at the mercy and control of other people, my body encased in a thickly padded plaster prison. Then, suddenly, Christy stopped moving.

Beads of perspiration were beginning to form on her forehead, and she was breathing heavily. I knew that look she gave me, a look that said "I'm close, but I want something else added before I come". Leaning forward, she kissed the exposed bridge of my nose, then leaned over to the cart holding the respirator. I heard some clicks as knobs were turned, and then things changed. The volume of air forced into my lungs with each breath increased, as did the exhale cycle. I was now breathing hard and heavy, like I'd just run a mile. Christy gave me a devilish smile, and did something else to the unit, and my world started to slowly spin. "I thought a little nitrous-oxide would help you relax, and enjoy this more." With that she started her rythmic rocking again.

I lost all track of time, but for what then seemed like hours she rocked, twisted and grinded hersaelf against the cast and me. As the nitrous worked its way into my system, it seemed my sensations were heightened, and as she rode the throes of ecstacy, I also climaxed, of such intensity and duration as I had never experienced. As I rode down the back of that great tidal wave of sensations, blackness surrounded me, and the night took me into its soft, warm arms.

Well, I guess it hadn't been hours after all, for when I awoke, I guessed it was still early evening (the window in that room faced west, and red and yellow light was still coming through the curtains). A warm, wet sensation between my legs reminded me of what had (apparently) just happened, and I looked down to see Mrs. Rogers bathing my crotch. A glance up at the feeding bag showed it was nearly empty. A thought occurred to me then; how was I going to get rid of all this liquid that was being force-fed to me? Was I just supposed to wet the bed? Or would they hold a urinal up to me at strategic times? Mrs. Rogers already had the answer.

Finished washing me, she pulled the overbed table into place above the bed. A plastic tray was there, but I couldn't see what was in it. Mrs. Rogers then turned to another of the carts beside the bed, and pulled out some dispoable gloves, which she then donned. Noticing I was awake, she smiled at me, but said nothing. From the one of the cart's drawers, she removed a large, heavy vinyl bag that had tubing attached to it. This she hung down at the edge of the bed, and brought the exposed end of the tubing up and rested in my lap. I knew what was coming next, and would have cringed if I could have. Mrs. Rogers lifted a long tube from the tray on the table, and squeezed some clear jelly-like substance on it from a tube. Using her gloved fingers, she smeared the jelly along the length of the tube, evenly coating its entire length. Setting the tube down, she picked a syringe (minus needle), and filled it with water. This she then attached to a pigtail on one end of the tube, and slowly pushed the plunger. The other end of the tube was rounded, and had two eyelets on the side just behind the tip, which opened to the obviously hollow interior of the tube. As Mrs. Rogers pushed on the syringe plunger, the surface of the tube behind the eyelets suddenly swelled, forming a balloon. Apparently satisfied, she then pulled the syringe plunger back out, deflating the balloon. She then turned to me. "I understand this is your first time for this", she said. Her voice had an Irish accent to it. It went well with her red hair. "I'll go very slowly, and be as gentle as possible."

Reaching down, she took my penis in her left hand, and with her right, slowly started threading the catheter into my urethra. From all I had heard about this procedure, I was certain I'd experience excrutiating pain from the onset, and for as long as the device was in me. That's not what happened. While I wouldn't say it was a pleasant feeling, the burning sensation the catheter induced was not very bad, and I had felt worse burning before from a bladder infection. As the tube progressed in, I felt it pressing against my prostrate as it went past it, as for a moment I tried to decide of the feeling was actually pleasant or not. Then it reached my bladder.

The sphincter valve on the bladder is normally closed tightly, and only opens when certain muscles are flexed. I had wondered if the drug they had given me would have paralyzed that muscle too, resulting in temporary incontinence, but apparently it hadn't. Now, the catheter's rounded tip was force through this tightly-closed orafice, and for an instant I felt a strong, unpleasant cramping sensation. Just as quickly, though, the feelingwas gone, and all I felt was the cather being pushed in further. It didn't hurt, in fact it no longer burned. It was simply something felt.

Satisfied that the cather was truly inside my bladder (easy to tell - urine was pouring out of the end and into the collection bag that was hangin down from my bed), Mrs. Rogers then depressed the syringe plunger again. I didn't know if I would feel the little balloon inflate inside my bladder; the only sensation was a feeling of my bladder being slightly full for a moment as the balloon displaced urine. that feeling went away as the my bladder emptied. Mrs. Rogers disconnected the syringe from the catheter's pigtail, then wrapped some soft padding around my penis. A small ace bandage held it in place. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?", she asked. "Every two days it will be removed for eight hours, so that your bladder sphincter won't loose its ability to close all the way. I'm sure you wouldn't want to have to use one of these for the rest of your life." She could be so charming at times, I thought. Putting away the tray and overbed table, she pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, looking at me.

"Please don't think Christy's being cruel by having us catheterize you. It's really the most sensable thig for the situation you're in, a situation which, from what she says, you really wanted. Don't worry, neither myself nor Mrs. Davis think poorly of you for wanting this. In fact, she, myself and our, uh, 'roomate' all enjoy this particular hobby. Did you notice the second bed in this room? Christy said that, because we were kind enough to help her with you, we could bring our 'roomate' over here. It seemed logical, as one of us will have to be monitoring you at all times, and we didn't want to leave Carol at home. That's her name; Carol. She'll be dropping by later on. I think you'll enjoy the week we all have planned. For now, though, you've had a busy day, and you need your rest." She turned to the respirator, and made an adjustment. "Sleep well". She leaned over and kissed me on the bridge of my nose, then walked out of the room, shutting off the light, and closing the door. As the nitrous oxide again started to take effect, I felt all the tubes in me, and I felt the soft, rigid inside of the cast against my skin. I realized I was right where I wanted to be.