Author's Note: Just wanted to take a minute to thank everyone for their feedback!
This one picks up right where we left off in the last episode, with a bit of a change of scenery and the first story level down. As promised, the change of scenery comes with some new fetish topics and a disclaimer. In addition to the chastity, tease and denial, and female domination, expect to see some light medical play, suggested CNC, and CBT. Enjoy!
Carnal Nights: Part 3 A New Day
Dennis mumbled and stuttered until Amy slipped her toes in the loop at the end of his leash and gave it a tug. Dennis jolted forward a bit, and caught one of Amy's eyebrows raising. He'd never seen his wife like this. Sure, she was in control last night and this morning, but it felt more playful and experimental than it did now. It was almost as if she'd discovered a new dimension of her personality, and could shift in and out of it at will. Dennis was kept constantly off balance as she switched between the cold sadist and the playful girlboss. He did the best he could to get a grip on the situation, picked up his phone, and opened the story he wrote.
"The name of the story is 'New Day Clinic', its an original that I wrote for you today. I really hope you like it." Dennis stammered. Amy's eyes sparkled as she stared back at him. He kept his eyes on his phone and began reading.
'At 22 years old, I was a failure. It was really no surprise considering my heritage, that I would turn out to be a homeless junky. When my parents died, first my mother of a heroin overdose, then my father in a drunken car wreck, I was almost relieved. I had spent the first eleven years of my life watching my parents slowly kill themselves, and when it finally happened one after the other, and I was taken in by my grandmother, my life generally improved. That's not to say that I was ever a great student, or a great adopted son, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn't on my own. I no longer had to worry where my next meal would come from, or if it would come at all. No more was I haunted by the sound of my mother flicking glassine bags or my fathers drunk rages.
That's not to say life with my grandmother was a picnic either. It was tough to get accustomed to a household with rules and a guardian that made sure I made it to school every day, even when I didn't want to go. It took a solid year before both of us adjusted to the new living situation, and both my freshman and sophomore years of high school were great. Then Gram got sick. For a long time, the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong, but it didn't change the fact that she was having difficulty moving around and was in constant pain. The cancer diagnosis came about a year later, and most of my senior year of high school, our roles had reversed. I stepped up to become the caregiver in the relationship and I did everything I could to try to help out. After graduation, that role as a caregiver became full time, college or a job were both out of the question. At times, the doctors gave us hope, but her condition continued to decline until she finally passed about 18 months after I had graduated high school.
Again, I was alone, although a bit more equipped than I had been as a child. Gram left her entire estate to me, including the house and a big chunk of money in escrow, to cover property tax and utilities, and savings. I wish I could say that I took these advantages and used them toward a successful life, but the opposite is true. The loss of my grandmother sent me spiraling out of control. I embraced drugs and alcohol with every fiber of my being along with the social group that attended them. My friend group blossomed as I tried to find companions to replace my lost family.
For the first few months I was successful in numbing my sorrows, but gradually, fun began to turn to dependence. By the end of the first year without Gram, my social life started to wither while my use of chemical happiness bloomed. What started with booze and pot, quickly mutated into pills and coke, then heroin and crack. More and more, I found myself getting fucked up alone, until aside from a few loyal junky's, my friends had vanished. When my 21st birthday rolled around, I was pawning anything I could find around the house to fund my substantial habit, and when I celebrated my 22nd, there was nothing left to pawn and I turned to petty theft and subsistence dealing. Even the "loyal junkies" stayed away, the prospect of a warm place to shoot up was no longer worth the risk of my thieving ways.
It was at this point, when I had no one and nowhere left to turn, that I even considered the idea of getting help. I remember that day in vivid detail despite the drug induced haze. It was an unseasonably warm, sunny, October day. I didn't get any sleep the night before because I was too busy thrashing around in bed with restless legs or sprinting for the bathroom. Around sunrise, with nothing else to do but suffer withdrawals, I opened the browser on my phone and started searching for treatment clinics and drug rehabs. Even though I had a place to live, I was still broke and had no insurance, so the options were limited. The free state institutions always had a wait list, their offices didn't open for a few hours anyway. I kept scrolling, and buried in the results was a seemingly normal page that seemed to check all the boxes. I clicked and started reading:
"A New Day is a for-profit drug rehabilitation center that guarantees a cure for the disease of addiction! No insurance or guarantee of payment necessary! Our state of the art facilities offer a luxury environment for patients to detox, address the root of their substance abuse problems, and find a meaningful life. We employ some of the best psychiatric and medical doctors in the hemisphere on the subject of addiction recovery to treat our patients with the best care. But it doesn't stop there! Once treatment is completed, we provide career training and job placement as well as relocation services. Our clinics operate in all fifty states, and our specialized career training facilities are set up all over the US and Canada. Contact us below to experience A New Day!"
I couldn't believe what I was reading. Part of the reason I never sought treatment was the horror stories I had heard of state run and religious facilities, the only free ones available. A New Day sounded like paradise in comparison. I thumbed through the photo gallery, the place seemed more like a resort than a medical facility. There had to be a catch, but I would be lying if I said there was any drawback that I wouldn't accept with a smile just to put an end to the suffering. I looked for a phone number and office hours, but found nothing. I tapped the chat icon on their webpage and rolled over, expecting a response during "normal business hours", but before I could get back to thrashing around in bed, my phone chimed.
"Hello, are you looking for information for yourself or a loved one?" The message read.
"It's for me. I was wondering how long the program is, and if you have any beds open, if not, how long is the wait list?"
"The length of the program is entirely up to the patient, each patient is kept as long, or as short as necessary to ensure a permanent end to their addiction and substance abuse issues. More generally, the average stat is currently 9 days in the detox facility and 46 days in the rehabilitation center. Currently there are no waitlists, nationwide. If you would fill out a short questionnaire, I could have a shuttle dispatched to pick you up in two hours."
