This is a bit of a sadistic exercise based off an image I've uploaded to my "writing illustrations" album.

https://en.zity.biz/gallery/image/267952

This isn't long, but it isn't exactly short and sweet. Well, it might be short, but it is most definitely not sweet. So you understand the context of the opening paragraphs, it was originally posted on my BDSMLR blog.

You know, dear readers, there’s quite a wide variety of proclivities that all of you enjoy. Sometimes it’s hard for me to understand what it is that some of you enjoy about my blog given how different our thoughts are on certain topics.

Take, for example, the headline of a recent new follower:

“Snap me if you’re a woman hater."

Aside from having no idea what is being referred to by “snap me”, I’m somewhat at a loss because I am anything but a woman hater. To the contrary, I am a woman lover. I adore women, girls, all of you, so very much. Sure, there are times that, during the course of events, may require me to do some things to you that are … unpleasant. These things are not done because I enjoy them, however. I do them because they are necessary or for your own good.

I would never do them for my own prurient desires, ever. In fact, I might even say that when I need to do these things that it hurts me more than it could ever hurt you.

Let’s take this patient of mine, pictured above, as an example. She is in an unfortunate situation — a very intense relationship, or so she’s told me — where her partner wishes to use, enjoy, and pleasure her anally. And she allows this and does so on a regular basis. A very, very regular basis. She even enjoys being pleasured and fondled anally, but recently has suffered the consequences of …. hmmm … well, it’s difficult to say.

Either she was too stoic to inform her partner that she felt something wrong down there, or he was too zealous in his ministrations and did not stop when he should have. Impossible for me to know for sure. She told me it was the former, but probably because I made it clear that if it was the latter that I would be inclined to pay her partner a free-of-charge housecall and apply some similar ministrations to his backdoor in order to improve his, how shall we say, ability to empathize with her discomfort?

Regardless of the impetus of her injuries, they wouldn’t heal properly on their own, so I took it upon myself to do what was needed for her to once again attain a beautiful and properly functioning anorectal region. To be completely fair, I did attempt to refer her to a hospital where she could be properly anesthetized, but she didn’t want to be put under and practically begged me to help her right there in my office.

So I did.

First, I explained that the treatment would be quite uncomfortable. She nodded in acceptance. No, I clarified, it would be extremely uncomfortable. She nodded again, though less enthusiastically. So uncomfortable, I explained, that it would likely be impossible for her to keep still throughout the procedure. Here, she hesitated a moment, and then shyly looked up at me.

“Please, doctor, I’m sure it will be difficult, but I need you to help me. I don’t want to know any more, just … do what you need to do, okay? Please?"

I’ll never forget the expression on her face just then. She was submitting herself to me entirely, her vulnerability clear as the nose on her face, and nearly as adorable. Her fear was also apparent, but I could also tell that her trust in me, her doctor, the one she entrusted with her most intimate and private parts of her life and her body, transcended any fear or doubts — no matter how great they might be — that she had.

During our talk, I had surreptitiously poured a little bit of chloroform on a cloth I kept in my desk for extreme circumstances such as this. Tucking it into my jacket pocket, I rose and approached her, lifting her chin with my hand to bring her eyes up to mine. I made eye contact with her and gave her all the assurance I could muster.

“I understand, and I promise I’ll take good care of you. The best that I possibly can, and that when this is all over you’ll be on the road to recovery and no permanent issues whatsoever.”

She game me a small smile then, so I slipped my hand from her chin to the back of her head and held it tight while my other hand placed the chloroform-laden cloth to her nose and mouth. For a very short moment she had a look of panic in her eyes, and then … nothing. She was out.

When she came to, she found herself in my cellar treatment center on a traditional proctological procedure table. For those who aren’t familiar, I recommend a bit of a google image search — they’re not difficult to find, but the do resist description. Anyway, she found herself placed on this table, the entire apparatus quite high in order for me and my staff to do our work while standing. Several straps were tightly binding her legs, hips, and back to the table to prevent her from moving any part of her body below her chest.

As for her upper body, I’ve found it best to provide a firm but not cold platform upon which to rest one’s head and to allow the patient to wrap their arms around it. When the … sensations … begin, feeling as though one can squeeze and hold tightly through the … difficult parts … gives one a minor sense of comfort and control. Quite minor, alas, but it’s all I could do.

“Wha…doctor, did you put me out? What happened?”

“Hush, ladybug, I promised you that I wouldn’t do that, just as you asked. However, rather than requiring you to watch and wait while we positioned you for the procedure, I felt it best — and easiest — if we could just allow you to skip that part of it, yes? Now, you’re all set, you didn’t need to listen or watch as we prepared our instruments, some of which can be quite intimidating to gaze upon. You understand, I hope?"

“I … well, I really didn’t want to be knocked out, but … yes, what’s done is done. But … is all this, this … binding, truly necessary? You said it could be uncomfortable, but I’ve got a high pain tolerance and I promised I would cooperate and hold still…"

“I’m afraid it is necessary, ladybug. You see…” At that point I pulled on a pair of exam gloves. “There’s quite a lot of damage back here that we’re going to need to work on.”

She gasped as she felt my gloved finger gently press against the swelling around her anus. “There are a number of external hemorrhoids we’ll need to remove, you see, caused by the aggressive sexual acts your partner imposed on you.”

She gasped again, with a bit of whimper as well, as my finger moved to a different part of her anus. “There’s also been some tearing that will require careful stitching, and one particularly bad tear that led to a fissure. Repairing that may require me to incise part of your sphincter in order to allow it to heal without the muscle re-injuring the tear.”

“Th-th-that much? I didn’t realize it was that bad! But … okay. I can handle it. I know it’ll be uncomfortable, but you’ll at least be able to give me a local anesthetic, I’m sure, so I just need to bear down and get through those awful injections, right?"

I didn’t respond right away.

“Ri-right doctor? I mean, I know the shots really hurt, but … you’ll still numb me up back there, right?"

This was the difficult news I worried most about delivering. This is also why I wanted her in place, ready to begin treatment, before we discussed this last detail.

“I’m sorry, ladybug, but the number of injections you’d need to become sufficiently numb would require a dangerous amount of lidocaine, and that’s not a risk I’m comfortable with taking. Also, injecting that much solution into your tissue will stretch and distort them making it extremely difficult that any repairs I make are liable to cause scarring and distortions in that area. I promised that you that I would take care of you and clean all this damage up, leaving you as perfect as before it all happened, and that’s what it will take."

“No! Wait, doctor, please!” She cried out and begged, but I needed to do my job and so I stopped listening at that point. I refused to gag her because that would simply be inhumane. Certainly, if she needed to experience this painful treatment I could suffer through her cries and screams of pain. I had, after all, done it before.

“Okay ladybug, I’m going to start with these nasty hemorrhoids here. You’re going to feel a great deal of unpleasant pressure as I hold them with the clamp, followed by some sharp pain as I excise them with the scalpel…"

The next two hours were probably the longest hours of her life, but she survived. We both did. And, I’m happy to say, that the results were as impeccable as I’d hoped. By this time next month, I feel confident in saying that neither her current partner, nor any potential future partners, will ever know just how much damage had been done to the poor girl.

Still, I’ve have come to change my mind about that old adage, the one I mentioned above. You know, that when I do these things that it will hurt me more than it hurts you. In a case such as this, it most definitely hurt her quite a bit more than it hurt me.

But needs must.