"My fascination with leg casts and crutches, the desire for this experience, comes from my older sister. She was in a terrible accident, she hit a motorcycle while driving her car and lost control of her vehicle into a tree. She shattered her leg in pieces on impact"
I squeezed my stumps against my leg, I could feel the wetness, "Please continue" and continue she did but not before changing seats, Alexandra stood and sat to my left, inches from my stump, from the leg I lost in a motorcycle accident.
"Her leg was in traction for 3 weeks and then a long series of leg casts over the year and surgery. She was so beautiful, tall on crutches with a small sock over her cast, hiding her delicate toes"
I stared at her, speechless, afraid of where that story was going. She leaned over and her left hand rested on my stump, she could feel my pantyhose, my scars and I could feel her fingers inches from my wet vagina.
"One of the ladies on the motorcycle lost her leg in the accident," She said, rubbing my stump slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at this beautiful young woman.
"I was young at the time, but I clearly remember being fascinated," She said, her eyes distant with recollection.
"It was as though the sight of my sister's leg cast drew attention like a magnet, all at once. Her boyfriend couldn't keep his eyes off her broken leg, you know what I mean, Jesus he was almost drooling when she hopped on her good leg and her breasts bounced." She chuckled softly, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
"As I grew older," she continued,
"that fascination never faded. I played sports with the unique intention of breaking one of my limbs. I never did, of course. But I wanted to understand, to experience what it was like to be in that situation, that one second of vulnerability when the twisting is too much, when the impact is too violent, and your bones break." Alexandra's eyes met mine, a curiosity that had shaped her sexual desires over the years, I could tell.
As our conversation concluded, I made a decision that would change the course of my professional and private life forever.
"Alexandra, I'm willing to help you on this journey, but only under one condition. We will prioritize our safety, both physically and emotionally. If, at any point, we feel uncomfortable or wish to stop, we will do so immediately."
Her eyes softened with gratitude, and she reached for my crutches and handed them over. Once up on my leg and towering over her she shook my hand.
"Thank you, Vivian, for understanding and for being willing to explore this with me. I trust you completely." She said that and looked me over from my black pump to my green eyes, passing over my missing leg.
As we parted ways that evening, I couldn't shake the feeling that the journey ahead would test the boundaries of desire, pain, healing, and human connection in ways I had never imagined. Also I fantasized about making sweet love to Alexandra in a full leg cast.
Over the next few weeks, Alexandra and I meticulously planned each step and I procured the necessary equipment, medications and casting materials on the black market. We set a date for the procedure, and as it approached, a sense of anticipation hung in the air.
The day finally arrived, and we met in a sterile, well-equipped room in my house that I had converted for the procedure. Alexandra, dressed in a hospital gown, lay on the surgical table, her face showing excitement and nervousness. I stood beside her using only one crutch in my white coat.
As I approached the Fracture Table, I leaned against it and I addressed Alexandra, my voice gentle but firm.
"Are you ready for this, Alexandra? This is a serious break, months before you can walk again" I inquired, ensuring her emotional readiness matched her physical preparation. I was also asking myself indirectly since it was a first for me.
She nodded, her eyes fixed on mine. "OMG, I'm ready, Vivian, so ready"
I need to give credit where credit is due. The Fracture Table came from a clandestine partnership between me, a brilliant orthopaedic surgeon if I may say so myself, and an engineering prodigy named Oliver, whose passion for innovation knew no bounds.
My sexual fascination with orthopaedics had led me to dream of a specialized Fracture Table that could mimic the experience of a real fracture, down to the smallest detail. Oliver, that I dated at the time, created the concept that was simple in a way and yet difficult to make it 100% safe and still create a surreal reality.
My part was to understand the human body's capacity to endure and heal, through pain but through the wonder of a totally controlled experience. The Fracture Table was a pink sleek, metallic apparatus that could have been mistaken for a piece of modern art. Its adjustable arms and padded surface was inviting yet eerie scary when you saw the name.
Back in February, Oliver said, "Vivian, we've pushed the boundaries of engineering and medicine. Now, it's time to put it to the test."
With Oliver's consent recorded in the computer, we prepared for the test run, scaphoid fracture, left wrist. He positioned himself on the fracture table, his arm exposed.
I stood on my crutches beside the computer console, my fingers poised to initiate the test run after I was done entering the data in the system.
"Are you ready, Oliver?" I asked.
Oliver met my gaze with a resolute nod. "Yes."
As I initiated the test run, the Fracture Table's mechanisms came to life. Oliver's arm was cradled by padded, adjustable straps, securing it in place. The automated, slow-twisting mechanism, calibrated for his unique experience, began its deliberate motion.
I maintained a constant dialogue with Oliver, monitoring his comfort and well-being as the table mimicked the forces of a real stress fracture.
"How are you feeling, Oliver? Any discomfort?" I inquired, my voice a reassuring presence.
Oliver's response was honest.
"It's like a controlled storm inside my arm." He had just finished stating that when...
Oliver's ligaments responded to the twisting force. I observed his arm closely, the ligaments enduring the controlled forces with remarkable resilience. With a distinct sound, a ligament gave way.
"It's a ligament tear, Oliver, a natural response to the forces we're applying," I explained.
Then, with a final, controlled twist, a stress fracture occurred. Oliver's wrist responded to the simulated force like we expected.
"You've experienced it, Oliver, our first controlled stress fracture", I said leaning over and kissing him. I wanted him more than ever.
With the test run successfully completed, I proceeded to apply a short cast to his arm. I watched with admiration as the cast took shape, mimicking the appearance of a genuine injury.
Later that evening in bed, my crutches against the wall, I looked at him, the cast of his broken wrist slid down my hip and came to rest on my stump. I noticed right away that he got so hard while he caressed my stump, my hips began to sway, and I straddled his large penis until we both came. It was our last night together, we broke up the next day.
I stood on my crutches beside Alexandra, admiration for her courage. This time, I leaned over her, my fingers gently lifting her chin, and our lips met in an intimate kiss. It was a connection, a reassurance of our bond.
On the Fracture Table, her right leg was attached meticulously in two distinct locations, precisely aligned with her bio-metrics and the fracture data entered into the computer. My special room in a soft, sterile light, casted an aura over the room. Alexandra's sexy strong leg was secured with the utmost care, two sets of padded straps cradling her foot and upper leg, ensuring stability throughout the procedure to break her leg.
I turned my attention to the vital signs monitor, its screen displaying data that would guide us through the journey. Her heart rate was elevated but well within the expected range, a natural response to the impending stress.
I'm sure we can all agree that you, dear reader, would feel the same if I was about to break your leg...
Part 3 to come
K
No comments:
Post a Comment