No Rescue From a Tumor

Recap: (Joe, a shy and modest college student, is undergoing painful and experimental chemo for a brain tumor, and discovers that a friend from his church is willing to do anything he orders her to do, even though she refuses when he just asks her. After constantly testing her boundaries, he finally got her naked in his shower, letting him soap up her body - any and every part of her body that he feels like scrubbing. Now his erection is causing him as much pain as his headache, and he has decided to have her help do something about it.)

"Um," I said, staring at Kirsten, standing less than a foot away from me, naked, in the shower with water cascading down all around her. I had one hand on her ass and the other hand nestled in between her labia. I had already decided the next thing that I wanted, needed, to try. And somehow I felt sure she would let me.

"Do you care if I join you in there?"

"Oh," Kirsten replied. "I don't think that would be right."

"I mean," I corrected, realizing that I had asked again instead of giving a command, "I got puke all over myself, too, and I want to join you."

"I understand," she said. "But I don't think that would be appropriate," she answered. It was like she hadn't just made that argument and then ignored it 2 minutes seconds earlier. And I still had not given any command.

"Help me get my clothes off, so I can get in there, too," I told her.

"Ok," she answered, as she had been doing all afternoon. With water cascading between her breasts, running in little rivulets down her flat stomach and dripping off her dark brown pubic hair, she turned to face me, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and pulled it from me. I was in ecstasy, and I didn't care in the least bit about all of the water that was getting all over the bathroom floor and all over everything.

Once Kirsten had removed my shirt, she tossed it out the open bathroom door, but she didn't even pause as she moved to my jogging pants. She pulled open the hem, found where they were tied, and untied them quicker than I could breathe. I was having a hard time breathing. Then she bent over, pulling them down to the ground in one, fluid movement. I stepped out of them, more excited than I had ever been in my life, and felt her hands slide under each side of my boxers. She didn't pause, which was good because I still couldn't breathe. She just pulled them down as she had with my pants, and then helped me step out of them.

I could see that she was staring at my erection, and then saw that her nipples were suddenly getting very hard, very quickly. And I noticed that she started to blush.

"Tell me, what are you thinking about?" I commanded. I sure knew what I was thinking about.

"I was just thinking how odd it was that I didn't care at all that you could see me naked and that I could see you naked, too, even though all my life I thought that I felt like it was wrong. And then I was thinking about how hard your penis is which means you seem to be very turned on by something." Her answer was quick and to the point, and then she blushed deeper than she had the first time.

"Don't be embarrassed," I said. "About this or about anything else I ask." She immediately calmed. I cold literally see the blush leaving her face.

"Did you say that you needed to shower too?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Help me get in."

My head hurt so bad that I really did need her help to step over the side of the bathtub.

"Have you ever wondered about what it would be like to have . . . to sleep with a guy?" I asked, once I was in. I had never seen my erection so large and so stiff before.

"Of course," she answered. Then she turned and resumed her shower and her nipples began to soften on her beautiful breasts. It was not the reaction that I had expected her to have.

"I got puke all down my front," I told her, then made sure that I gave a command. "Scrub me off."

"Okay," she agreed. She grabbed the soap and began rubbing my chest and stomach. Her breasts bobbed up and down while she worked. I reached out to squeeze one of them, but she shifted her body out of the way.

"You've still got something on your breast," I told her. "It's really stuck on there, so let me try to get it off." I reached out again, and this time she let me grab the dangling breast.

While I pulled and squeezed her breast, she continued to scrub my stomach.

"It's lower than that," I told her. "You need to scrub off my . . . privates."

"Oh, Okay," she agreed, moving her hands lower. "I'm sorry."

The hand holding the soap scraped through my pubic region and along the shaft of my cock. Her other hand dropped and wrapped around it. The hand didn't even have time to move the full length of the shaft when it erupted, shooting sperm all over both of her hands, her stomach, and down one of her legs. My whole body sighed with the release of pressure.

"Oh," was all she could manage to say. "Sorry." She didn't seem embarrassed, but did look upset. I could see that she was not happy with what she had done. Apparently, she'd discovered the limit of what she was willing to do for her little charade.

"That's okay," I told her. "It's a normal bodily reaction."

"Yeah," she said. But her nipples started to grow hard again, and her face started to flush. "I know, but still . . ." She held up one hand, with my sperm dangling off of it, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Neither of us did anything wrong," I tried. "You were just doing what needed to be done. Nothing bad, or awkward or inappropriate, happened at all."

After that, then she immediately relaxed and smiled. She relaxed so much that her nipples began softening again and her flush disappeared. Even though my sperm still dangled from her hands and clung to her leg.

That was when I realized that she wasn't playing a crazy game with me, and never had been. She was not living out some sort of weird sex fantasy and thinking that I would forget all about everything. Kirsten actually was really, truly, under my control when I gave a command.

The thought sent me reeling. No wonder she had been so unusually willing. I felt sick again, which started another round of puking.

Kirsten, still naked, with my sperm still all over her, comforted me while I crouched over the toilet, hurling my guts out. I kept dry heaving long after the puking stopped, but I managed to apologize to Kirsten.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I had no idea what was really going on."

"I don't know what you are talking about," she answered. "What do you mean?"

"Please just wash my . . . stuff off of your hands and get dressed."

"Okay," she told me. She still looked worried about me but of course she immediately did what I told her to do.

"You've been wonderful today," I added. "But I need to sort some things out and I don't really think that it will be safe for you here after a while." I knew that once a guy emptied his reserves, it took a while to build it up again. But I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take, and I wanted to make sure that Kirsten was gone before it happened and I made her do anything else that either of us would later regret.

As soon as I had regained control of my digestive system, I rushed around the apartment locating her clothing and - literally—throwing it at her as I retrieved it. My guilt was overwhelming me. I couldn't look at her, or even think about her, naked or otherwise.

She was soon dressed, but looking somewhat bewildered. I had gotten dressed, as well, which made me feel slightly better. "Thanks for bringing me the sandwich and, uh, everything," I mumbled, finally glancing up at her as she slow-walked toward the apartment door.

Instead of opening the door, she ran back to me and gave me an enormous hug. "Any time you need anything," she said, "you just call me, and I'll come over."

I could feel her breasts squashing against my chest and I could smell her citrus cranberry lotion on her still-wet skin. I was pretty sure that it was really my imagination, but I could also smell my sperm still on her, as well. I leaned my head back and looked at her, and she looked up at me with a pouting little smile on her beautiful lips.

My groin twitched, and I got a cold shiver that started with my head and went down my spine. And my headache started up again. While she held me, I could feel my dick already beginning to grow again. If only she hadn't stressed the word 'anything.' I looked at her, and I couldn't resist. I tried to tell her to run, but that's not what came out.

"Wait." Already unmoving, she watched me, expectantly. "Don't move." I told her. "Anything."

"Sorry," I muttered. I reached out again, a shiver of nervous anticipation rocking my spine. Slowly, I touched her side, then tentatively slid the hand under her shirt, and then down the front of her pajama pants. I could see that she wanted to shove my hand away, but she didn't move an inch. She also looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't. She couldn't. She could not move even her lips, but her look, somehow, was still venomous. I couldn't help apologizing again as I moved my other hand forward, and slid it inside her pajama pants as well. Then I carefully slid both of my hands down her legs to her knees, forcing her pajama pants down with them.

She still didn't move. I watched the expression on her face change from livid anger to fear as my hands revealed her underwear, and she was unable to do anything about it. Then, when she felt my hands slide back up her legs to her waist, and then under the elastic of her panties, her whole body seemed to vibrate. But it still didn't seem to move, though. This time was completely different from before. Before, although she must have certainly been forced to do things she would not have normally ben comfortable with doing, she had acted happy and compliant. Now, she was not. Even considering the events of the last half hour, this was the most erotic feeling I'd ever had, looking at her in her shirt and underwear - even though I'd just seen her completely naked.

I slid my hands back and forth just under her pantyline, relishing the feeling of her soft warm skin on one side of my fingers and her panties on the other. Next, I slid both hands down her front to her bush and combed my fingers through her pubic hair, not moving them low enough to feel her folds, just enjoying the feeling of total control. Then I slid both of my hands back up to her waist and hesitated, not sure if I wanted to keep moving them up, or move them around to the back. I thought for a second, and then I moved them around back to her ass. Finally, I slid each hand down a butt cheek and squeezed with both hands, pulling her cheeks apart as I did so.

I could feel my dick hardening to an uncomfortable level again already, and I was very excited about the ideas that came popping into my head.

Until I looked at Kirsten again, and my excitement evaporated. Her eyes were tearing up, and realized she hadn't been allowed even to blink. She was in agony, in spite of my enjoyment.

"You may have control over your eyes." I felt a little guilty. Not guilty enough to let her go, but guilty enough to recognize that I felt guilty.

Instantly, she started blinking. Blinking and crying.

"Stop crying." I said, and even though I didn't really mean is as a command, as quickly as she had started, she stopped crying. But her face still looked like she was crying.

I sighed, full of different emotions going on inside of me. Then I looked away from her face, down at her pajama pants pulled down to her knees and her bare panties, now unevenly wrapped around her hips.

"You're beautiful, Kirsten," I said, and I grabbed her butt again. I hadn't realized that I'd let go, but I really liked the feeling of holding it. It was firm, round, and warm. "You really are." I pulled on both cheeks, separating them, then released one and slid the hand down her crack while I kept massaging the other one.. I watched her eyes quivering in fearful anticipation when she felt my middle finger reach her anus and stop. I caressed the spot, putting pressure on it, but not enough to force my finger in. And I watched her face. Even though she couldn't move, I could still see the terror in her eyes. Instead, I continued to put pressure on it, and I kept squeezing and pulling on her butt cheek.

I moved the hand on her butt around her thigh and into her pubic hair again. I wiggled one finger at her anus, then slowly began lowering the middle finger of my other hand through the pubic hair and onto her clit. Kirsten quivered and her eyes got a strange look to them.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, worried that I'd done some sort of internal damage by not allowing her any movement. She looked at me and made a noise in her throat, but I couldn't understand at all what she said. I looked at her in fear, convinced that she'd had some sort of brain stroke or something. Then I remembered that she wasn't allowed to move her neck muscles or her jaw or her tongue. She couldn't speak to me.

"You may have control of your head, but you may only whisper," I told her.

"Joe," She hissed at me. "Let go of me right -" but then her eyes glazed over and she moaned.

"What happened?" I asked. I was sure that I was killing her, and I instantly regretted ever having touched her. I snatched my hands away from her and started looking around the room for my cell phone.

"Are you okay?" I asked, becoming frantic. "What's wrong?" I couldn't think of what I had done with my cell.

Kirsten didn't answer me. She looked . . . embarrassed? I became a little less concerned and a little bit more interested.

"You have to answer all of my questions." I told her. "What happened?"

"You made me have a mini orgasm," she explained, red faced and through clenched teeth.

"Really?" I asked her.

"Yes," she hissed. "Don't you dare try to-," I ignored her threat. So, I thought, she can't move, but she can have an orgasm, huh? I thought that was extremely interesting.

"Tell me; have you had them before?"

She shook her head.

"So, that was that your first ever orgasm, Kirsten?"

She nodded through clenched teeth, which I guess was an answer, as required. "Let me go. Now!"

A moment earlier, I was planning to do just that. Now, though . . .

I looked down at her panties and I saw that there was a wet stain spreading across them. It surprised me a little.

"Why are your panties wet?" I asked, still sort of stressed and confused. "Did it make you pee?"

"No," she explained, and her voice was back to showing fear instead of anger. "It's vaginal fluid. It's what happens before the orgasms."

She looked horrified that she'd told me. I, on the other hand, was enthralled, and I stepped close to her again. I quickly moved one of my hands back to her ass, and moved the other down the front of her panties through her bush. Only, this time I went a little bit lower, and I could feel the wetness in her labia. I parted the folds and moved the finger around inside of her, feeling the moist heat intensify as I manipulated her there.

"Get your hand out!" she whispered through clenched teeth. "Now,"

As an answer, I began moving the hand that was on her ass. I moved a finger to her anus and caressed her there. Instantly, she began constricting around my finger in her labia.

"Ah," I said. "That is what an orgasm is like for a woman?"

She nodded. I began moving my fingers of both hands, one caressing her anus and the other massaging her labia. I felt her body respond instantly in her third ever orgasm. This one, I could feel with both hands. Or maybe it was still her first. I wasn't actually sure how it worked.

"So it feels pretty good then, what I'm doing?" I asked, continuing my movements with my fingers. Even though my focus was on here, I still noticed how stiff my erection was getting.

"No!" she whispered. "And yes, both."

Remembering how I had felt when I realized Kirsten had lost her free will, I understood what she was telling me. I didn't quite sympathize, but I did understand. Her orgasm did not seem to stop. It seemed to pause for a moment or two, and then pick right back up, making her whole body react, even though it still wasn't allowed to move. It was wonderful for me, feeling her body react that way to my fingers, and it was wonderful and horrible for her, both at the same time.

Finally, I pulled my hands from her underwear and stepped away from her.

"Kirsten," I said. "You don't want me to see your breasts; but, take off your shirt and bra anyway and ask me very politely to look at your," My breath caught as I gave the command. "Nipples." Even after all that I had seen and done in the last half hour, it was still hard for me to say the anatomical words that described the body part that I was thinking of. It made me feel a little dorky.

However, even though she kept staring at me with both fear and anger, Kirsten pulled her shirt up over her head. Once again, her beautiful white bra came into view. It did not stay in view long, though, because she, with an enormous sigh of frustration, reached behind her and unhooked it. Without a pause, even though her face plainly showed her reluctance, she let her bra fall away so that she held it by one strap with one hand, and the other strap dangled just above the ground.

"Will you please," she begged pleasantly, even though her face was scrunched up in horror, "look at my nipples?"