We were excited to get to my place, eager to examine the photo shoot on a larger screen. Retrieving Karla's crutches from the trunk, I carefully handed them to her, knowing that her broken leg was still causing her considerable discomfort and she was still unable to put any weight on it.
Karla slid out of the car gracefully, and positioned her crutches. We made our way inside, and I guided her to my spare room, which served as an office. Karla leaned her crutches against the wall and took a seat beside me. I initiated the process of downloading the first set of photos from my camera. I was meticulously identifying technical flaws when I stole a glance at Karla.
"You look totally amazing in these Karla," I remarked, pointing out a particular shot where she stood and a younger woman with a sprained ankle passed by behind her.
"Do you think her ankle was medically sprained?"
Karla looked at me before responding,
"Do you know who she is?" My curiosity was piqued.
"No. Not at a first glance anyway."
"She's a renowned U.S. gymnast who suffered a mental breakdown. She needed a break from the demanding world of competition, so we created a fictional narrative for her. But, Veronica, you must promise me that you'll never, ever divulge this information."
I nodded solemnly. A sense of urgency compelled me to reveal a secret of my own.
"Karla, there's something I need to confess," I said, hesitating slightly.
Her gaze fixed on me, "What secret?"
"When we first met, I was actually working undercover for a magazine, investigating The Secret Society," I revealed, my voice filled with both vulnerability and anticipation.
For what seemed like 10 minutes my confession hung in the air, Karla's expression transformed from curiosity to shock to madness. She leaned forward for her crutches, retrieved them, positioning them under her arms to leave my place.
In her haste, one of the crutches slipped from her grasp, causing her to lose balance and stumble forward. The excruciating pain surged through her broken leg as her cast hit the hardwood floor, intensifying her madness. In that minute, she was betrayed by me and then her own body.
Time stood still. It was an expression I had often used to describe intense moments, but this particular moment was so different. The sharp gasp from Karla's lips, her delicate sound of distress from her physical pain and my betrayal, freezes me in my tracks.
I offered my assistance to Karla. I supported her as she slowly rose from the floor. For the first time since meeting her, her cast was a visible reminder that her leg was really broken.
She grabbed her backpack made for women and she left. Not a single word escaped her lips.
10 minutes later I had resigned but the damage in my relationship with Karla was done.
Three weeks later, I received a message from Karla's secretary, informing me that she wanted to have a meeting with me in her office. As I entered her office, I found Karla seated in her chair, her crutches leaning against the wall. Her injured leg was now in a striking red short leg cast, ending 2 inches below her knee. It was still non weight bearing
"I assume you want to discuss my association with the magazine? First and foremost, let me say how sorry I am for lying to you or not being completely transparent," I began.
Karla replied, "That's water under the bridge," as she sat there, looking stunning with her legs crossed. She ran her fingers along her exposed toes at the end of the red cast, gazing at me intently.
"I want to clarify that my intention was never to spy on you personally. The magazine was merely intrigued by The Secret Society. I decided to leave the magazine without sharing any information, such as locations or photos. Your secret remains safe," I explained.
"It's difficult to trust anything you say right now," she retorted.
"I completely understand," I acknowledged.
"However, if you're willing to do a challenge of our choosing for the next eight weeks, we can put your lapse in judgement behind us," she proposed, gripping her crutches and rising from her seat. She then walked towards me on her crutches, and my gaze was fixated on her leg, her red cast, and her crutches. I responded without hesitation,
"Yes, I'm in." She kissed me.
2 weeks later we walked in the main room of The Secret Society. Once I was on the bed in what looked like a hospital room, my heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. The sterile white walls of the room seemed to close in on me, what if they break my leg? Was that the commitment that they expected from me?
I glanced over at Karla, my best friend, who stood beside me on her crutches. Her short red cast was now a walking cast with a rubber heel under the cast for support. Partial weight bearing for 2 more weeks. I was surprised when a doctor and nurse entered the room, calm and professional looking.
"Why a doctor for a recreational leg cast?" I asked Karla. She smiled and didn't answer with her rubber heel on the floor.
He explained the process of applying a full leg cast on my left leg. I knew the process, what I didn't know was that he was planning a plaster cast. First the soft cotton padding, explaining that it would provide a cushion between my skin and the rigid plaster. The cool touch of the padding against my leg offered a brief moment of relief from the tension that had built up within me.
As the doctor worked his way up my leg, layering the plaster one roll at a time, I couldn't help watching each roll dipped into water before being applied. The sexy nurse's skilled hands moved all over my plaster cast, rubbing it with care, ensuring that my first recreational leg cast was going to be perfect.
Meanwhile, Karla stood beside me on her walking cast with one crutch only. Her other crutch leaned against the bed, I squeezed it, loving the feeling that it offered.
The weight of the cast gradually settled onto my leg. The warmth radiating from the drying plaster created a nice sensation. With each passing moment, I could feel the cast becoming a part of me, a symbol of my integration to The Secret Society.
Boy was I wrong.
Finally, the doctor completed the cast and left. The nurse took a step back, my full leg cast now reached from my toes all the way up to my thigh, literally rubbing against my vagina. It went way too high on my thigh. Wetness was forming from the contact.
As I glanced over at Karla, her expression was warning me and then she said
"You haven't seen nothing yet"
She was so right. The doctor came back in, rolling a strange device that he carefully positioned at the foot of my bed. With a smooth motion, the device slid forward, securely covering a portion of my plaster cast, my foot and the lower section of my leg, rendering it immobile, I would say prisoner of that device.
"What is this for Karla?" I asked
"You look stunning Veronica and your cast adds extra. However, The Secret Society has a different plan for you, since you cheated us. We want to give you a chance to join us again and we want to be able to trust you."
"That's all I want"
"Then we need something over you. Like a proof that you may have self injured yourself"
"But I would never do that Karla. Never"
"That's why we have this device here" She said and pressed the start button.
Jesus the device started rotating my long leg cast counterclockwise. Right away the plaster cast made sense. I tried to resist the panic that was taking hold of me. I steadied myself, fighting back any signs of pain or distress. I closed my eyes while the top portion of my cast was rubbing against my vagina.
When I reopened my eyes, one of my hands was between my legs with 2 fingers inside me teasing my clitoris. The cast was resisting the twisting.
Karla was staring, my fingers were in and out faster, eventually my plaster cast succumbed to the pressure, snapping at my knee and over the ankle.
Moaning from pain and pleasure I said "Please stop it, you won"
"Soon, very soon," Karla said
The orgasm shook me while I was staring at Karla limping around the room on her walking cast, her crutches were obviously going to be mine. I passed out when my tibia and fibula broke from the twisting and pressure.
She then pressed the stop button. Too late or right on time depending on your point of view.
Conclusion to come
K
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