The Wheel

Dr. Linda Murray rolled her head, trying to work the kinks from her neck. She had three more admissions to do, and she was tired. Heading for the second floor unit, she walked by the wall of pigeonholes for interoffice mail. Her inbox looked empty, but she felt the need to recheck it. Reaching deep with her hand, her fingertips brushed something back out of sight. Extended further, her fingers pulled it out into the light. It was a small package, wrapped in white tissue paper. She tore off the tissue paper and a small velvet covered jewelry box rested in her palm. She snapped open the lid and there was the silver chain of a necklace, resting on white satin. She pulled it out, and the cardboard came with it, revealing a sunburst pendant beneath. She looked at it resting in her palm and with a start she really saw the pendant. It sprang into focus and the world shifted. Linda put her hand up on the wall as she felt her knees buckle. Her vision tunneled down and all she could see was the sparkling silver object. It looked like a thick washer, with bright pins all around the circumference, evoking the sunburst she had seen at first. But the tight sparkle of light reflecting off the pin tips showed that they were incredibly sharp. It was unquestionably the spinner from a Wartenberg wheel, a large one, with sharpened needles instead of the usual pins. Unbidden, unease rose within her, even though she knew no one could possibly know what the gift meant. She clenched her hand around it tightly, hiding the spinner so no one could see. A small point of pain in her hand triggered a full sense memory of the day before. It flooded in so quickly Linda stumbled back a step, overwhelmed.

Two days ago she ate lunch with the new neurologist, Dr. Peter Régnant. People seemed to like him, but decades of experience as a woman of color, in what is still mostly a white man's world, kept her perpetually on her guard. Initially leery of his well-worn Ivy League class ring, she was relieved to find he was relaxed and not full of himself the way the old neurologist had been. Their 30-minute lunch break took well over an hour. As their conversation progressed, he demonstrated confident creativity and a vocabulary that was all too rare in this small town. Few men were open to her hidden predilections. She rarely allowed herself the secret pleasure of responding to a desirable man's attentions, especially those of a colleague. She finally forced the lunch to end when she realized she was getting much too warm, a result of growing visceral attraction. That night she masturbated while imagining him whispering to her, directing her fingers, coaching her every move and thought. Despite her orgasm's intensity, her pelvis felt even more full. She had to climax three more times before she could drift off to sleep.

The next day, she walked down the hallway of the first floor unit, heading for the gym, when Dr. Régnant turned the corner and came towards her. She was titillated despite herself when he favored her with a surreptitious wink. Without even thinking, she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. His response was not at all what she had expected. He didn't blush. He didn't flash the boyish grin that had been so delicious at lunch. He stopped, lifted one eyebrow and deliberately scanned her, curls to Pradas. This act of naked appraisal made her stop in a vulnerable confusion. Her eyes widened in uncertainty as she felt an accompanying warmth in her pelvis. His eyes set their gaze on hers and he held her mesmerized for several pounding heartbeats. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly. He leaned against the storeroom door where he had stopped. The door swung open silently and he disappeared inside. Fascinated, Linda watched herself with dread as she inexorably entered the room and let the door close behind her.

The storeroom had been an exam room years ago, and a functioning operating light still hung from the ceiling. Dr. Régnant turned it on, casually adjusting the beam so the harsh blue-white light shone over his shoulder and down between them. He stepped even closer to her, reaching around her waist. Linda realized that a deep breath would press her breasts against his chest. With a start, she heard the deadbolt latch. She looked nervously over his shoulder, then down at her feet. She perceived a very low chuckle and felt a finger under her chin. Her eyes involuntarily flew to meet his as he firmly tipped her head.

She drew in a sharp breath as his face came into focus. The harsh light from the examination lamp made his eyebrows cast deep shadows. His eyes seemed to be glowing at her. The corners of his eyes were crinkled as though he was smiling, but there was no smile. His intense gaze held her mesmerized. At first she thought it was almost a Mona Lisa look, then she was uncomfortably reminded of how the male lion at the zoo had looked at her daughter when she was 3 years old. That afternoon, years ago, Linda had realized that the perfectly still lion was tense as a coiled spring, watching her daughter across the moat with raw craving. The golden eyes of that predator, that force of nature, had given her nightmares for months.

Just as this recognition started to raise a small voice of panic in the back of her head, he lifted her chin up higher. He lowered his face to her neck and inhaled deeply. A small squeak broke past her lips. He raised his mouth to her ear and softly breathed "Shhhh.... shhhhh.... let it happen Linda... we both know it's what you want..."

A flash of fear burst through her. She said, "Peter, no..." and tried to struggle. "I don't know you..."

His hand came up the back of her head, fingers intertwining with the hair at her scalp. Closing his hand, he took control of her head. Gripping her hair firmly he held her very still. "I am not going to rape you, I am not going to even have sex with you ... today. Right now you need to learn that I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know what you want. What you ... need."

What had given her away? Her social camouflage was the result of decades, dating all the way back to her first twinges of sexual awakening. Yet this man was playing her like his favorite musical instrument. She could not remember a man ever taking charge so firmly. She felt herself submerging into his control with relief, with rising desire, with an overwhelming joy. With an involuntary sigh, she relaxed and realized it was done. Linda surrendered to him, to whatever he would demand of her. Quietly drowning in anticipation, she felt a burst of warmth between her legs. Warm, slick liquid was beginning to drip down the inside of her thighs from her swelling cunt. Right now, in this moment, no other word would do. This man was speaking not to a vagina, not to a pussy, he was speaking to, no he was commanding, her cunt. A remote part of her mind wondered how he could be so aware, how he could have possibly perceived her core so quickly. Her eyelids drooped ever so slightly with her rising arousal. The harsh light hurt even more and she realized her pupils must be the size of saucers.

Peter reached into his pocket and lifted a polished Wartenberg wheel to her eyes. In the harsh examination light, the tines of the wheel glittered with impossibly sharp points. Then, with a flick of his index finger, he spun the wheel directly in front of her eyes. The sparkle held her gaze and her mind seemed to melt just as her cunt had. Linda felt her volition slip away into a swirling mental haze of concentration, detachment, and unquestioning obedience. Her body, her mind, and perhaps her very soul, became a molten lake of raw longing.

As her gaze remained fixed on the twinkling wheel she felt the fingers of his other hand encircle her wrist and lift her arm. He turned her palm toward his face and gripped the mound at the base of her thumb in his teeth. She sighed softly at the pressure and gentle pain from his incisors. His hand released her wrist and his teeth clung tighter, now holding her hand against his mouth. The sensation of his teeth biting her palm echoed in her skull. The slick liquid slowly dripping down her thigh became a trickle. Linda's breathing slowed and deepened as she let herself drift in the endorphin haze.

She felt his free hand undoing the buttons of her cuff. As if from a distance, she was aware of her sleeve being slid up past her elbow and over her bicep. The wheel in front of her eyes still held her gaze and entranced what little of her consciousness remained. She felt fingers encircling her wrist again and released a small whimper of disappointment when his teeth released her hand. He saw the barest trace of a moue cross her mouth. Leaning his head alongside hers, he said, "Patience little one, I have more for you."

"Please yes" she answered in a soft hiss. Closing her fingers against her palm, she felt the deep ridges remaining on her skin from his bite. Another wave surged down her pelvis. Linda was dimly aware that her clitoris was impossibly swollen.

She felt the cool of the storeroom door against the back of her hand as Peter placed her bare arm by her side. He carefully positioned her arm a few degrees away from her body and pressed the length of it straight and flat against the door. He raised his hand back to the now still wheel, moving the wheel from one hand to the other. Staring into her wide-open pupils, he lowered the flat hub of the wheel to the level of her lips. As he barely cocked one eyebrow she realized what he was expecting her to do. She opened her mouth just enough for the tip of her tongue to wet her lips, pursed them, and kissed the cold metal instrument. He smiled softly. Linda marveled at how he made her feel simultaneously hunted and cherished.

Keeping their gazes fixed on each other's eyes, Peter lowered the wheel to the inside of Linda's wrist. Watching her intently, he touched the sharp tines to the thin skin and swiftly rolled the wheel up the inside of her arm. As he traveled the length of her bicep he saw no constriction of her pupils. His confidence surged into certainty as he lifted the wheel from her skin. She felt the tines at the inside of her wrist again. He applied just a little more pressure this time, rolling the wheel up the sensitive inside of her arm a little more slowly. The increase in pressure elevated the intensity of the sensation. Linda felt this pass as a continuous flare traveling up her arm.

The third pass of the wheel was slower yet, and the pressure was again a little more. Linda's breathing slowed and became even deeper. Peter's progression continued as he lowered the wheel to her wrist for the fourth time. As the first needle again touched her skin the pressure was finally enough to cause the sensation Linda had been craving. This first truly painful violation triggered a blossoming pleasure in the most primitive limbic centers of her brain. In that instant, the trickle of honey from her sex became a steady stream. As he rolled the wheel more slowly, for the first time she felt every pinprick as a distinct sensation. The points of pain climbing her forearm elicited a moan from her parted lips. The fire rising to her biceps made her remember how long it had been since a man had demanded a deep drink of the suffering she secretly craved. When the pain blossomed at her deltoid, her last conscious thought of gratitude submerged under the tsunami of endorphins.

As Peter again rolled the wheel up the length of her arm, he noted with pleasure the way Linda's nostrils were now flaring with every inhalation. He truly loved and cherished women, but the ones who were strong, yet needed to surrender completely, were treasures. No common lothario possessed his scientific knowledge of the anatomy and physiology of the human female. No other academic physician possessed his personal skill maximizing the female sexual response. This unusual combination of theory and practice was the mark of a man who truly loved his vocation. His scientific and personal studies of the human pain response were similarly complete. Taken together, he was confident these areas of expertise made him an elite, perhaps even unique, connoisseur. The certain knowledge that his most cherished delights were regarded by society as depravities did not deter him. The ease with which Linda was accepting his ministrations pleased him greatly. He could not decide which was more impressive, the depth of her surrender or the degree of pain he knew she was enduring for him. Her obvious pleasure filled his eyes. His nostrils savored the scent of musk wafting from under her skirt. His cock swelled in his pants and his heart swelled in his chest.

Again Peter rolled the wheel up her arm. Again he applied just a little more pressure. Again he raised his hand just a little more slowly. Linda's breathing became labored. Every breath carried her breasts up and out enough to press against him. He could feel her hard nipples. It was as if she had small stones in the lace cups of her brasserie. A momentary urge to pinch and twist them in his fingers rose unbidden. With a firm exercise of self-control he resisted the urges that were reddening the edges of his vision. Confident that he would indulge those urges in due time, he continued his ministrations.

Initially Linda's eyelids had drooped in pleasure and desire. Now they started to widen every time the wheel made its more intense, more painful, journey up her arm. Each trip her eyes opened wider and her sharp inhalation deepened. Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see row upon row of fine reddish points marking her skin. He hungrily consumed the pain shining out of her eyes for him. His cock strained against his pants. With the ninth pass of the wheel, Linda's eyes momentarily started to roll back up under her lids. "Look at me!" Peter commanded in a low growl. Her eyes obediently snapped back to focus on his. Her lids strained to open wider and she took in a deep gasping breath.

Holding the wheel at her wrist once more, Peter pressed his weight against Linda. He kissed her fiercely on the lips, crushing their lips between their teeth. Involuntarily she yielded her mouth and his tongue plunged inside. Swirling her tongue with his, he thrust deeply into her mouth and then just as quickly withdrew. Leaning his head back, he hooked his empty hand under the hem of her skirt and roughly lifted it to her waist. Expertly he hooked his fingertips under the crotch of her thong. As he swept the thin strip of fabric aside, he plunged two fingers deep into the source of the heady musk he had been savoring. She was so wet he slid in effortlessly, his fingers gliding in to rest up against her G spot. For five of the heartbeats thundering in Linda's ears he pressed up into her, making her pelvis thrum with need. Peter chuckled as he withdrew his fingers as quickly as he had inserted them. He lifted the dripping digits to his nostrils. He inhaled as though savoring a goblet of fine wine. Holding the two fingers apart in a "V" he slid his index finger in his mouth. The relish with which he tasted her was written across his face. Later when she was again capable of conscious thought, Linda would blush with mingled embarrassment and pleasure as she remembered the way Peter seemed to glow as he tasted her for the first time. But in the moment all that registered with her was his middle digit, moving towards her mouth, shining with her juices, a thin spinnbarkeit thread stretching away. She opened her lips and accepted his finger. Pursing her lips around it, she sucked it in, sweeping her honey off of his skin with her tongue. She was unaware of her moan that gave Peter so much pleasure in that moment.

Pulling the cleaned finger from her mouth, he stiffened his fingers together as a child playacting a gun. He pressed the tip firmly against her chin. She felt this insistent presence slide inexorably down her front. She vainly hoped it would wander to the sides as it traced her cleavage. It passed over the still raised hem of her skirt, down her lower belly. She shuddered as it bumped over her pubic mound on its way to her dripping cunt. He grunted as he thrust both fingers into her so deeply he lifted her up off her heels and onto her toes. His thumb pressed up on the swollen bump of her considerable clitoris. This time her eyelids flew open so widely he was certain they must hurt with the strain. "Keep looking at me," he growled.

She felt the tines of the wheel pressing just above her wrist once more. His thumb started to chase her sexual center as it tried in vain to retreat. Linda felt the dam in her pelvis begin to crack and then it happened. She felt the first tine of the wheel softly pop through her skin. At last she plunged over the cliff of her orgasm. Peter rolled the wheel relentlessly up the entire length of her arm. As he did, a hundred little punctures popped through her dermis. Each one set off a tiny flashbulb in her skull. Each one triggered another orgasmic spasm. She slumped, caught firmly between Peter and the door, held upright only by his violating hand.

After an eternal two minutes of still silence, Linda shuddered. Peter slowly lowered her to stand on her own. Making sure she was steady on her feet, he withdrew his hand. He leaned his head forward and she felt his warm face and hot breath against her ear. "Good girl" he breathed. She was dimly aware as he pocketed the wheel in his white coat. She felt her sleeves being rolled back down her arm. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin for just a moment. He stepped back, kissed her softly on the forehead and then cradled the side of her head in one hand. Instinctively, she turned into his palm and kissed the base of his thumb.

Peter firmly pulled her away from the door, unlatched the deadbolt, and stepped past her as he left the room. The door shut silently behind him. She stood stock still in the harsh glare of the old exam light. Her body overflowed with sensations. As she trembled from the pain endorphins coursing through her, her entire pelvis still rang from the pleasure of her orgasm. As conscious thought finally swam back to the surface of her brain, Linda found herself staring at the closed door. Slowly she became aware of a line of warmth running down the inside of her arm. In the harsh blue of the exam light she saw a black rivulet running out from under her cuff. It ran down from the inside of her wrist, tracing its way down her palm and the length of her ring finger. Black polka dots were smattered on the old linoleum tile by her feet, surrounding a small central puddle. She knew that in sunlight the black fluid under it on the floor would be a deep crimson.

Shaking her head to clear her reverie, Linda was back in the present, leaning against the wall by the interoffice mail pigeonholes. Her pelvis was alive with the memory she had just relived. A persistent shower of needle pricks in her clenched fist finally got her attention and she looked in her hand. She had held the wheel pendant so tightly she had punctured the thick skin of her palm. Plucking it out with her other hand, she raised the tiny wounds to her mouth and sucked gently. Satisfied the wound was clean, she balled a tissue into her fist. Keeping that hand closed to stop the bleeding, she hung the necklace over that wrist. With her now free hand she snapped the jewelry box shut and dropped it into her coat pocket. Smiling, she lifted the necklace over her head. A warm pleasure flowed across her chest when the wheel nestled just above the cleavage where her breasts met. As she started back down the hall she felt tiny pricks as the sharp needles bounced against the tender flesh. Linda decided her last three admissions would have to wait. With a glint in her eye, a growing pressure in her cunt, and a blossoming warmth in her heart, she set off in search of a neurological consult.