Tales From the Psych Ward 04: Casandra

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It's so nice to be insane

No one asks you to explain

Radio by your side, Angie Baby

Angie Baby, you're a special lady

Living in a world of make-believe

Well, maybe...

Well, maybe...

From the song "Angie Baby" written by Alan O'Day and sung by Helen Reddy in 1974

This series of stories is inspired from my own struggle with marginal Borderline Personality Disorder, but none of the persons, incidents, or depictions are real - in everyday reality or in my own personal realities. Each story stands on its own, but uses characters and references from other stories in the series. You might understand this story better if you have read previous stories in this series.

The over-riding theme of the series is BDSM, so I am posting them here, even though some of the individual stories more properly belong in fantasy... but then, isn't the "Borderline" between bondage and fantasy rather blurred anyway?

The Technician

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I was "in house" after a security guard went ape shit and called 911 when I went catatonic while standing in a clothing isle in the store. Maybe if I had been in the men's section, or at least not in front of a full display of female thong underwear, he wouldn't have been so upset. The fact that most of my clothing suddenly disappeared may also have had something to do with it. I came out of it totally OK and lucid, but once the EMTs and the police were involved, a short stay at the ward was inevitable.

I don't really mind my stays at the ward, but in house treatment means I have to attend the daily group sessions. That I do mind. I have never understood why talking to people who cannot possibly understand what is truly going on with me is supposed to help, but if it is what I have to do in order to be allowed to go back to my apartment, I play along.

Dr. Henderson leads the in house group and with him leading, group is always very "formal." He insists on calling us by our "proper names" and insists that we refer to ourselves as our "true inner selves." He did not appreciate it today when I told him that his neurotic fixation on given names must indicate some deep underlying issue from his childhood.

They really don't like it when you spout their psychobabble bullshit back at them, but he couldn't show anger... No, that would be "unprofessional." Instead he paused to collect his thoughts and control his anger and answered in his obnoxious, psychologist's lets-all-be-calm-and-reasonable voice saying clearly and distinctly, "Nicknames and pet names are just something to hide behind. We are here to rediscover and re-attach to our true selves, so we will all use the true names for our true, inner selves."

He then turned to the newest member of the group and said, "We have a new member of the group today. Cassandra, would you be willing to tell us something about yourself?"

The young girl who was new to the group smiled pleasantly at him and replied to the whole group, "My true name and my true, inner self is 'Cassie,' not 'Cassandra.' Cassandra is an abused child abandoned by a useless father and an alcoholic mother. Cassie is me. I had my name legally changed years ago, even if your records do not reflect that fact, Dr. Henderson. For the record, I do not answer to Cassandra, and unless you call me by my proper name, I will have nothing to do with this group."

I knew I was going to like Cassie.

After morning group she approached me in the community room. Dr. Henderson also has this big thing about "bleeding off group dynamic" and tries to keep us from talking with each other outside of group. But he leaves for lunch and then has afternoon office hours, so what he doesn't know about doesn't matter. As long as we didn't cause a disturbance, the staff wouldn't write us up, and I wasn't going to say anything about it in group. I was pretty sure that Cassie wouldn't either.

Anyway Cassie came up to me and asked, "Is it true that you go places?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" I answered cautiously. This is, after all, a psych ward, and you have to be a little careful with what you say to whom or you can suddenly find yourself on the wrong end of a shiv or a bent spoon.

And don't say that they don't let us have anything sharp - like that would make a difference. If they give us plastic, it is easy to hide and easy to sharpen. If they stick with metal - no pun intended - they don't give us knives or forks, but they still give us spoons.

It is amazingly easy to quickly bend a spoon so that the cup of the spoon fits like a T over the handle. Put that in the palm of your hand and you can drive it through plywood. As Tim, who sits in the corner and keeps his back to the wall always reminds us, "Just because I am paranoid doesn't mean that one of you isn't out to get me."

Cassie waited while my thoughts wandered. When I was finally looking at her again, she continued, "I heard that someone called Wayne sometimes comes and takes you places. Is that true?"

"Truth is relative," I replied. "It is true in my reality. In Doctor Henderson's reality, it is merely an hallucination from which my body creates stigmata."

"That's what they tell me, too."

Cassie's eyes began to tear up and she continued, "Nobody will believe me about Debra... or Billie, but it happens. Mistress Debra comes for me and takes me away. Sometimes I am Billie when she takes me and sometimes Billie and I are there together when she does things to us. It isn't an hallucination. And there are no recorded cases of stigmata like this..."

She lifted the front of her smock, baring her lower stomach. Then she pulled down her sweat pants slightly so that I could see the ornate tattoo on her lower belly across the top of her pubic bone. In very intricate Gothic letters intertwined with green vines and red roses it said, "Debra's Slut." Lifting up the legs on the sweat pants so I could see vines curling around both her ankles, she said simply, "It begins on the soles of my feet. That is NOT stigmata."

I remained silent, and after a few moments, she continued, "It all appeared two weeks ago. I was in the state correctional facility's psychiatric ward across town. There was a big fuss about who did it and how they got the material into the prison and all that. I think one of the ward orderlies lost his job over it, but he didn't do it. He didn't do anything. Debra did it."

"She came and got me and took me to a club. She took me up on stage and told me to take off all my clothes. Then she lathered me up all over with menthol shaving cream. I kind of liked the way it made my skin feel a really weird cold all over, but I was really scared about what Mistress Debra was up to. Then, while they played some funky music, she slowly shaved all of the hair off my body, including the hair on my head. She even took off my eyebrows."

Cassie ran her hand through her very short, reddish blond hair. "It's starting to grow back a little up here, but she rubbed some sort of cream into the skin between my legs and said that it would be a long time before the grass grew again on that highway. After I was totally smooth, she wiped me down with a towel and led me over to what looked like half of a huge barrel. She pushed me back so that I had to lean against it to keep from falling over. Then my hands were then stretched wide across the top and strapped in place."

Cassie reached up her hands and held them out in a V like she were hanging from a beam. "Then they rotated the barrel so that my legs were pulled off the ground and my back was arched around the barrel shape. Two men came out and pulled my legs even wider apart and strapped them to the barrel. The whole thing was then rolled into the center of the stage and a bright spotlight was positioned so that it shone down directly on my cunt."

I was a bit surprised to hear her call it her "cunt." Evidently she saw the look on my face and added, "That's what it is. It's not a 'pussy' or 'slit' or 'down there.' It's a cunt, and I'm a cunt. Debra and Dr. Henderson have something in common. She insists that I use the right words."

I continued to remain silent. Cassie continued. "A scruffy looking man in grubby blue jeans and a black T-shirt came out on stage dragging a stool and a small rolling table with him. Debra joined him. She had a microphone in her hand. 'Masters and Mistresses,' she began, 'I have decided to publicly mark this slave for your enjoyment. You are familiar with David's work. He is very talented in many ways. He has also modified some of his equipment for special occasions like this."

"Normally the ink of a tattoo is driven just barely under the dermis. That is sufficient for most tattoos, and causes the least amount of pain. A tattoo such as this slave is to be marked with, however, should be permanent. It should never fade away. It should not even be able to be erased with laser removal or dermis graft surgery. This slave shall be marked as a slave forever.'"

"There were cheers and yells from the darkness, and then Debra continued. 'To do this, David uses a special tattoo gun with multiple needles, some of which penetrate deeply into the skin. It is his own design. It is much slower than a regular tattoo gun, but is still extremely precise so he can do the intricate design I want. The one drawback for the slave is that the multiple deep needles are very painful. My slave has received no pain killers and will not be gagged. I hope you enjoy her screams as accompaniment to your evening meal. If she gets too loud, we will come up with something to muzzle her.'"

"I didn't know what she meant... until he touched me with that tattoo gun. I have a small tattoo on my ankle. That stung when I got it. This didn't just sting, it felt like I was being eaten alive by a thousand tiny insects. I got bit by some fire ants down in Texas once, and that was nothing compared to what those needles were doing to my skin. In seconds I was screaming myself horse."

"After a few minutes that felt like hours, Debra came back up on stage. She had a cocktail glass in one hand and the microphone in the other. 'I think we need to quiet her down for a little while, don't you? Master Wayne, would you like to put something in her mouth to keep her quiet?'"

"A somewhat dark, very good looking man came up on stage and stood so that I was staring at the crotch of his black jeans as I was screaming. 'I don't know, Debra,' he said. 'I don't think I can trust her not to bite down on me as David works on her. Why don't we just put something OVER her mouth rather than in it.'"

"He looked out into the darkness and said loudly and firmly, 'Kelly, come up here on stage... and I want you naked by the time you get here.'"

"Almost immediately a young, naked girl ran up on stage and stood next to Wayne. 'Straddle this screamer, Kelly and cover her mouth with your twat. This isn't for your pleasure, it's so these folks can hear each other as they converse over their meal. If you are getting pleasure out of it, you are doing it wrong.'"

"The girl looked up at him with a questioning look on her face and he added, 'That means that if you cum from this, you will be punished severely.'"

"That's when Debra leaned over and said to me, 'He's not talking to you slave. I am. If you don't make her cum by the time your tattoo is finished, I will make the pain you are feeling now seem like a soft massage.'"

"I couldn't imagine greater pain than what I was already feeling, but after Debra left, I tried really hard to make Kelly cum. She kept moving herself so that I couldn't reach her clit with my tongue. A couple of times she moved so far forward on me that her asshole was firmly over my mouth. The second or third time she did that, I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and penetrated her ass. She gasped and stopped moving around and began to push down against my tongue. I buried as deep as I could go into her and wiggled my face from side to side to force her to move with me. Once she was rocking with me, I started moving up her cunt toward her clit. When she slid down a little so I could reach it, I knew I had her."

"I had Kelly on the brink of orgasm. She was panting and moaning loudly, but before I could push her over the edge, David got to the soles of my feet with that damn tattoo gun. I have never felt such pain before in my life. I forgot all about Kelly and went back to screaming my head off. A little while after that, I must have blacked out from the pain and woke up back on Ward Seven with this vine and slave brand tattooed on me."

Cassie giggled like a little girl and smiled broadly at me. "Do you know what I did then? Do you know? Do you?"

She was practically bouncing up and down. "I made the doctors show me the security videos of my supposed seizure. There I am sitting in the sun room all by myself not moving... not responding to anything around me... almost not even breathing... and then suddenly I am standing there naked screaming my head off. One instant I am dressed, and the next my clothes are gone, my hair is gone, and I am wearing nothing but this tattoo. They fired the orderly on duty - said he had to have doctored the tapes - but there is this little clock that runs in the corner of the tape and it doesn't even miss a tenth of a second, and they never did find my hair or my clothes."

"You know what I told them while they were sitting there with their mouths open? You know what I told them... what I told them? I told them 'Explain that! you pompous bastards!'"

Her giggles faded into silence, then she continued, "That's when they took the disk out of the machine and had me taken to lock-down away from the general population. As the orderly was taking me out of the room I heard one of them say, 'Doesn't Dr. Henderson have a case just like this across town? Maybe we should send Cassie over there and let him deal with it. Who knows maybe her Brenda and his Wayne know each other.' Then they both started laughing uproariously like they had just told the funniest joke anyone had ever heard."

Casssie smoothed down her smock and looked me directly in the eyes, "So..., is it true? Does Wayne come to get you like Brenda comes and gets me? They do know each. You know they do. Brenda chose Wayne to come up on stage with her. And that was Kelly - your Kelly, that I was driving wild with my tongue. So..., is it true?"

I sat for quite a while thinking about how to answer her. I knew that sometimes our conversations were monitored, and I didn't want to give Dr. Henderson any more ammunition to extend my in-house stay. I could hear him dictating his notes in my mind as I considered my response. "The subject obstructed the progress of a fellow resident patient by reinforcing her delusion and assuring her that her fantasy was reality and that her hallucinations were real."

Finally I spoke. I tried to keep my voice very level and devoid of emotion. "The vine on your left leg begins with a blazing orange sun on the ball of your foot. The vine wiggles down the sole of your foot and goes up directly in the middle of the back of your heel. The face on the sun is a woman's face contorted in anger. The vine on your right leg begins with a soft yellow moon. The face on the moon is also female and is also contorted, but it is obviously the face of a woman in the throes of a tremendous orgasm. That vine goes only halfway down the sole of your foot before curling up across the top of your foot to your ankle."

Cassie's eyes went wide as she looked down at the shoes on her feet. She knew that there was no way that I could see the beginning point of the tattoos. "You were there!" she breathed heavily. "You saw it!"

"I didn't say that," I responded, looking around. "But let me tell you what happened to me about two weeks ago."

Cassie's eyes widened in recognition of what I was saying - or not saying - and she relaxed back in her chair as I continued, "I was here, as I often am, two weeks ago, when I went into one of my catatonic states. Suddenly I was Kelly. Kelly only pulls me in when she is about to experience something that she doesn't think that she can handle on her own. I had no idea what was happening, or where I was, because everything was happening so fast. There was no lead up to anything. I was just suddenly Kellly, naked at the edge of a spotlight on a small stage in the middle of a darkened supper club of some sort. My slit was pressed against the mouth of a woman who was bent backwards over a large round cylinder of some sort. There was someone working between her legs with something that was buzzing loudly, and she was screaming her head off. She was also throwing her head back and forth between my legs and biting and licking at my cunt lips. I don't know how long it had been going on, but I was already on the brink. What was happening was more than enough to drive me over the edge, and I knew that for some reason it was very, very important that I not orgasm. I had to hold on. I had to stay in control, but her screams and her thrashing and whatever she had done before I joined Kelly were too much for me. I collapsed on top of her in a tremendous orgasm."

"I was laying against the bound woman's stomach, drenched in my own sweat, when I heard Wayne's voice, 'Kelly, Kelly, Kelly... didn't I tell you that this was not for your pleasure? Didn't I warn you that if you didn't control yourself, you would be punished severely?'"

"He pulled me to my feet, slapped my ass and ordered, 'Stand there with your hands on your head and your legs spread while David finishes with Cassandra, then we will see to your punishment.'"

"I looked down at the girl strapped to the cylinder. She was unconscious and David was working on the portion of a tattoo that was on the soles of her feet. 'Almost done,' came a voice from between her legs."

"A few moments later a bearded face appeared and looked directly at me. He turned slightly to the side and asked, 'What d'ya got in mind, Wayne?.. Something extensive or a little more subdued in a really tender spot?'"

"He stroked his beard for a moment or two and then sat up straight and said, 'I've got it. Why don't we give her two twats? Never done that before, but I can see it in my mind. All it has to do is flow down my arm to the needle and it's done. Gonna hurt like hell, though, but I'm 'maginin' that's what you're looking for.'"

"A Mistress with a sultry voice said, 'Take Cassie down to my room. I will deal with her later.'"

"Two burly men in black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirts stepped forward and began releasing the young woman's arms and legs from the straps on the cylinder."

"'And put Kelly in her place,' added Wayne, 'Face down, and make sure her legs are spread really wide.'"

"The men did as Debra and Wayne had instructed and I found myself wrapped tightly around the large cylinder with my legs spread as far apart as possible. I felt someone's finger touching my anus and heard Wayne's voice, 'This is what got you in trouble, Kelly, and this is what is going to feel the pain of this punishment.'"

"Wayne then stepped around in front of me and looked me in the eyes. 'Do you think that you are better than Cassie, Kelly? I think you are. And here is how we are going to prove it. While David tattoos your asshole, you are going to suck me off nice and slow. You are not going to lose control and bite me or stop giving me pleasure in any way. If you do,... well you might just spend the rest of your life on that barrel... and the club closes in three hours.'"