The Doctors Casebook Pt 03 Ch 03

The Case Files of Dr. Randall Herringwick

The Case of the Enslaved Nurse

Chapter 3 - Loretta's Revenge

CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENT 71 - DAY 59 (Continued)

"Yes?"

Her lot in life was not one of degrees. She was very young, very pretty, very petite and very desirable. I was pleased to observe that my assessment from the numerous photos I'd seen was correct. She was also very shy and very easily led. The only place where I would not have used that particular adverb is that she was NOT very bright. Also, I wouldn't have thought her to be the perfect trophy wife. She undoubtedly made the cocktail crowd uncomfortable whenever she was present. The congressman was in his mid-fifties. The only possible reason to wed a girl who was barely twenty (and who looked even younger) would be for the sex. That was about it. I guessed that she could hold a meaningful conversation about the rigors of cheerleading, but not much else.

"I'm doctor Herringwick," I said, smiling. "I phoned you half an hour ago." In a brazen act of overconfidence, I had decided to use my real name.

"Yes," she said uneasily. "I told you then ... my husband is not home. Neither is Hardy. They're in D.C. I'm ... I'm alone here."

I took off my hat and moved toward her. Startled, she backed up a step and inadvertently allowed me entry. "I didn't come to talk to them, my dear. I came to talk to you. You have a very nice home. May I have a cup of coffee?"

"Um ... I don't understand. What do you want?"

"I've already explained, Tawny. May I call you Tawny? I need to speak with you. I haven't had any coffee today. Do you have some? We could go out together and get a cup. I saw a restaurant just up the road." I pointed in a general direction.

"Oh, no!" she stammered. "I mean ... no, I mustn't ... I mean ... my husband doesn't let me ...." She stopped trying to verbalize for a moment and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "I don't drink coffee. But I could make some."

"That would be lovely," I told her behind my brightest smile. "Please, lead the way."

Casting frequent glances over her shoulder, she walked the length of a short entryway, through a huge living room with a vaulted ceiling, and into a bright kitchen. She filled the reservoir on a single-serving coffee maker. "We have all these different types of coffees and teas," she explained, opening a cabinet above the machine. I walked over and stood very close to her, peering at the assortment and making her fidget. She gulped nervously.

I leaned even closer as I pointed. "That kind would be wonderful. Thank you." She smelled of Ivory soap and some kind of floral shampoo. I backed away and went to sit at a round claw-foot oak table.

"W ... What kind of doctor are you?"

"I'm a psychiatrist. I came here to talk to you, while my nurse is at our hotel in Bellevue talking to John."

She looked up at me, away from the hissing coffee maker. "John? John Sinman? Ralph's son?"

"Yes. The congressman's son. What do you think of him? I understand that he thinks the world of you."

Without thinking, she reached up and touched her naturally curly red hair. "Me?" She thought about that for a second. "Gee, I hardly know him. I've only met him a few times. I've only been married to Ralph for five months, and John has been in school until just a few weeks ago."

"What are your impressions of him?"

The machine quit spitting, and she took a mug that sported a totem pole picture and carried it to me. I smiled again. "He's ... um ... very nice," she faltered. "Handsome. Tall. And big. You know ... a big guy. He's got a nice smile." She shrugged. "I like him." She stood, shuffling her feet a little, unsure what to do. Finally, she pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. "What ... um ... did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, to start with, why don't you tell me about those bruises on your arm."

Her left hand jerked up and started massaging her right arm and shoulder. "Oh ... um ... that's nothing, really. I ... uh ... ran into the door. Yeah ... the door. The bathroom door. In the night. You know ... when I got up to use the bathroom. You know?"

I took a sip of the coffee and practiced my best withering stare. That obviously went a bit overboard, because she literally recoiled and dropped her gaze from mine. Fortunately, because of that, she couldn't see me smile. Her degree of submissiveness was extreme ... as was everything else about her. Well, almost everything. "Tawny, you really shouldn't do that. You're no good at it."

She tried to meet my eyes, but only managed it for a brief instant. "I ... uh ... I'm sure I don't know what you ...."

"Your husband is good at it, isn't he? Whether it's a few friends at a party or the whole congressional district during a campaign, he's very good at it. But ... you are not. And, you know that, don't you? You'll never be a good liar. Everything about you is open and sincere. That's why he wanted to marry you. He needed to be seen with someone who is honest and wholesome, but who wouldn't dare question him if HE was not. Now ... let's try that again. Tell me about your arm."

She started crying. "It was my fault. I should have known better." She looked up beseechingly. "Really! I was stupid to even suggest there was another woman. Any man would have reacted that way. I was a ... um ... bad wife, and I got what I deserved."

I got up and moved around the table toward her. She quickly pushed her chair back in preparation to rise, but I halted her with a gesture. "Just stay right there, Tawny." She looked like a trapped animal.

"Please ... please don't hurt me," she whined.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You work for him, don't you?" she asked, the idea just coming to her. "You've been testing me, trying to make me talk about him. He told me not to let anyone in! He told me never to talk to anyone! Oh God, what have I done?!"

I pulled out the chair closest to her and sat back down. When I put a hand on her shoulder, I thought she was going to jump out of her skin. "I need you to calm down now, Tawny. Take a deep breath. Do it now. Very good. Now, relax for me. No one is going to hurt you. I'm here to help."

She swallowed and studied me with frightened eyes. "How can a psychiatrist help me? I'm not crazy!" She had another sudden thought. "Am I?" Her eyes got large with the idea, and she pleaded: "Am I crazy?"

I sighed heavily. "I don't think so. I believe you just ask crazy questions." That didn't seem to relieve her at all. "Tawny, I want you to do me a big favor, okay?" When she nodded, her curly head of hair took on a bouncing dynamic all its own. "I want you to stop asking dumb questions and listen to me, okay? I want you tell me the truth ... because you really, really suck at telling lies, okay?"

"Okay." Quiet. Meek.

"Very good. Now, let's try that truth thing. How did you get the bruises on your arm? Did he hit you?"

"He shook me. He grabbed me by the arms, lifted me off the ground, and he shook me like a rag doll. I chipped a tooth." She paused long enough to open her mouth wide and point at a right molar. "And, there's a bruise on my other arm, too. See?" She struggled to pull up the sleeve of her blouse.

"That's alright. I believe you." I took the hand she was using on the sleeve, and I held it tenderly. "Is that the only time he's gotten rough with you?"

Her mouth opened to answer, but she closed it again. Then she repeated that little exercise twice more, and finally said "No" in a bare whisper.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

"He's slapped me a few times; and once I thought he was going to punch me in the face. I mean ... he WAS going to punch me. He'd raised his fist and ...." She fought with her emotions for a moment. "I was so afraid! Hardy stopped him ... he grabbed Ralph's arm. And then he told Ralph that he shouldn't hit me where it would show. He said that I was supposed to be at a charity event coming up. Before I knew what was happening, Hardy had ripped my blouse off. And then, while I was just standing there dumbfounded, he ripped my skirt off, too. He grabbed me and threw me on the ground, face down. And he took off his belt and tossed it to Ralph, and then he held me while Ralph whipped me with the belt ... all over my ass and my back. I've got a scar on my butt from it. And I cried and cried, and I pleaded. And I swore that I'd never go out of the house again without permission. And I meant it! I never have, I swear! I only go out when I'm with him for some event or something."

"Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Are you kidding? Of course not!"

"I'm going to change the subject. I need you to tell me truthfully: What do you think of John Sinman?"

"I told you. He's really hunky. But, he's Ralph's son. He's his dad's son."

"What would you say if I told you that Ralph isn't John's biological father?"

"What? No shit? Crap! Ralph is really going to freak when he finds out!"

"Oh, Ralph already knows. Would you believe John doesn't know about it?"

Her eyes got huge. "Really?" She thought about that for awhile and her brow furrowed. "But ... why? Why keep something like that from him?"

"Ralph wants a protégé. He wants a son that he can train to inherit his empire. He's blackmailed John's mother ... Ralph's first wife, to back up the story."

"God. Poor John." She seemed truthful in that feeling.

"Would you like to help him, Tawny?"

She blinked. "Me?"

"I could show you how. You could help save him from this."

She studied my eyes and obviously saw that I was in earnest. "What would I have to do? I'm not sure I CAN do anything."

"Have you ever been hypnotized, Tawny? I can guide your actions."

The breath seemed to go out of her. "Hypnotize me? I ... uh ... I mean ... you can do stuff like that?"

Again, I couldn't keep a smile from forming on my lips. Some girls just seem to exude a deep-set desire to be taken over by someone else. Fortunately for me, this desire seemed to be so great in her, that the only effect my smile had was to make her blush. "I am very, very good at this," I told her. "I use it in my practice all the time. I have placed literally hundreds of people in various degrees of trance state. And because I'm an expert, I know with relative certainty that you are a prime subject for the deepest levels of hypnotic suggestion and control." I rose and held out a hand to her.

"Control?" she repeated dumbly. Automatically, she took my hand and stood. "What are you going to make me do?"

"I am not going to make you do anything, Tawny. I am going to allow you to do what you want to do yourself. And, if it IS what you want to do, I am going to guide your actions and emotions so that you can help John." I put the back of her right hand into the palm of her left, then held her arms down so that they were extended, her elbows straight, and her strangely cupped hands were at a level just below her waist.

"Emotions?" she parroted. She didn't flinch as I moved to her side and wound my arm around her shoulders. I was at her side now, very close to her, holding her body lightly with my left arm, while my right hand was underneath both of hers.

"Just look at your hands, please, Tawny. Right at the center of your palms. Focus on your hands, listen to my voice and relax into my body. I won't let you fall when you go to sleep. That is going to happen very soon now. And in response to your question, I cannot instill emotions that you don't desire yourself. But ... I can help you to feel the emotions that are already there. Relax, please. I can feel the tenseness in your body, and I need to feel you relax. Very good. You're doing very well. You'll be asleep very soon now. I can tell from the way your body is relaxing that you are very tired. You want sleep very much. I will lead you there now. Don't worry. I will take care of you. You don't have to worry about anything. Instead, you can feel safe ... and warm ... and protected. I won't let anything happen to you ... while you relax more ... and more."

I couldn't believe she was already almost under. Her body was leaning heavily into my own. This girl's whole life made sense to me now. All it would take was someone in authority to tell her what to do, and she'd never question it. And who is considered more in authority than a federal official? She was probably passed off from proud parents to a powerful-but-abusive husband like a baton in a relay race ... and with just about as much personal esteem. "You are doing so well, Tawny. Keep concentrating on your hands. You are so relaxed now ... and so tired ... and so, so sleepy. Your eyes are heavy. I can tell, because you're having so much trouble keeping your head upright. I know that you can see nothing but your hands ... and that you can hear nothing but my voice. And ... the sleep is coming now. You can't hold it back any longer. You are safe and warm and protected in my arms. And you are asleep ... now."

She seemed to collapse in on herself. I deepened her trance and moved her, leading her into the living room. I had her sit down on the couch, then stand up. Each time, I instructed her that obedience translated into pleasure, and I praised her by calling her "Good girl." Next, I sharpened the pleasure ... suggesting that her bliss was actually sexual in nature. She was amazingly suggestible, and with only a little more time, I was able to bring her to orgasm without the slightest touch. Finally, I ran her through the paces again; but this time, I had her imagine that it was John ordering her, praising her, pleasuring her with his commands. I informed her that she would never again be able to achieve orgasm unless it was John's explicit wish that she have one ... and, in fact, that if John wished or commanded an orgasm, she would be unable to avoid having one.

In the end, John (whom I personally had never met) was Tawny's one and only true love, her master, and the gatekeeper of her happiness and sexual satisfaction. She craved his comfort, his touch, his company and the distinct honor of being able to provide any type of sexual pleasure he might request. She would do anything for him. I was not yet certain that Loretta would be able to provide his love in return, and so I made sure that Tawny would supply love in abundance. To cement this concept, she would feel the need to tell John that she loved him often ... at least once or twice each day ... and she would be rewarded by feeling her love blossom and grow each and every time she said it.

Finally, my watch told me that it was time to be moving on, and I brought her out of it. I can't say that she was all that different. She still appeared shy and uncertain about almost everything. But when I told her that John wanted to see her, she didn't hesitate. She allowed me to help her on with her jacket (even in the early summer, you wear a jacket in the evenings in Seattle) and I led her to my rental car. Though she didn't hesitate, she was still concerned. "Ralph told me that I must never go out without his permission. He'll beat me again if he finds out."

"Would it be worth it, Tawny?" I asked her. "To see John, would it be worth another beating?"

She thought about that for a full minute. Finally: "Yes."

My heart went out to her. "Ralph is not going to know, I promise. Your house is not under surveillance ... I've checked. No one will tell him. I want you to feel safe."

She smiled sadly, but didn't reply.

In the hotel parking lot, I sent Loretta a text, and she responded almost immediately. They were already in the bar, and she'd gotten the same quiet table in the corner that we'd had the previous evening. The one thing I hadn't prepared Tawny for was meeting her husband's second wife. Fortunately, Loretta is the type of girl that can put almost anyone at ease (despite the handicap of having distracting breasts) and the two women were soon chatting away like long lost friends.

We ordered drinks and a couple appetizers. There were certain things that had to be discussed during this meeting, but normal conversation was strained. John Sinman kept staring at his current stepmother with something bordering on outright lust, and I was glad that Loretta had chosen to sit next to him, forcing our would-be lovers to opposite sides of the table. Tawny, for her part, wound up looking at her hands in her lap most of the hour we were together, and she wore a permanent blush that tinged her face and neck. I was pleased to discover that young Sinman now seemed to take it for granted that Sinman the Elder was not his true father. This was something that I desperately hoped was going to be born out as true in the end; for so far, I only had Loretta's word for this. That's not to say that I didn't trust everything she had told me, but I feared that she might have simply been mistaken.

One thing was certain, however. After I relayed the information that the congressman had beaten his present wife on more than one occasion, he very openly displayed a deep-seated hatred for the man. In John, at least, we had an ally. I began to believe that we might just succeed in our plan yet.

Finally, Loretta suggested that John take Tawny home, and they were both standing before the words were scarcely out of her lips. I told them that we'd see them the next morning, and they bid us farewell, with little hugs from Tawny and a firm handshake between us guys. And they were gone. That part of the plan was now on autopilot.

I sighed, waved to the waitress for two more drinks, and sat down next to my nurse. When I turned toward her, she kissed me, quickly and deeply, catching me by surprise. "Mmm." I purred. "What was that for?"

"For everything," she answered, resting her head against my shoulder. "For trying to rescue me once, and then doing it for real. For believing me ... about everything, and for believing IN me. And for trusting me enough to ... let me do what I did to John this afternoon."

"And what DID you do to John this afternoon?"

"Oh, gosh. So many little things almost went wrong! The diazepam in his drink; and then talking about taking a blood sample, but injecting him with the sodium pentothal instead. I was so worried that the dosages might be wrong, and that he'd just wind up asleep instead of in a trance. And ... you were right, I felt a little evil for doing it, but I felt like I was really helping him, too. And ... I just followed my intuition, like you told me, and ...." She waited while the waitress served us our drinks, then she leaned further into me, putting her lips closer to my ear. "And ... I thought that I should do more than just make him sexually excited when he thought about Tawny, and so I took his pants down and started stroking him. And, wow ... that girl is really going to be pleased with what he's got for her. He's ... uh ... pretty well equipped. But ... I'm a little worried."

I shifted a little because my underwear was suddenly bunched up around my stiffening manhood. "Worried about what?"

"I'm worried that they might not make it home! Did you see how he was drooling over her? And holy shit! The way that girl looked was so ... I don't know ... innocent and ripe! I mean, she was even starting to look pretty good to ME!"

I cleared my throat. "We're a long way from being out of the woods yet, my dear. If something goes wrong now, those two are in real danger."

She downed half of her drink. "It's going to be okay. I just know it is. But ... doctor?"

"Yes?"

"When this is over ... when we go back home ... when I become your mad evil nurse ...."

"Yes?"

"How far do you want me to go? I mean ... I suddenly realized, up there with John today ... I mean, I realized that I would have done anything for you ... to complete the task you had set for me." She took a breath. "I would have fucked him. I'd have done that for you."