Kinktober 2020 #7

Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, F/f, lesdom, bondage, asylum 

The patient was a woman in the latter half of her middle years. Grey was starting to creep into her long, otherwise brown hair. She was a shapely woman, it was easy to see in her tight straitjacket, though not quite as in shape as she had been for a large portion of her life.

Her restraints were unique. The straitjacket did not stop at the waist as so many others did. Instead it extended downwards into a skirt. It reached just past her knees, and was embedded with belts that could be tightened to hobble its prisoner.

At the moment, that was unnecessary.

The patient was currently being transported in a wheelchair. Heavy leather straps kept her legs tied down, the hobble skirt unbelted and draped over her thighs.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it dear?” asked the woman pushing the cart. She was of an age with the patient. Perhaps a few years younger, or perhaps older. It was hard to tell looking at her. Her own hair was died to keep dark and pulled back into a bun. She wore a form fitting nurse dress, complete with white hose and, oddly for any ordinary hospital or mental health facility, matching white high heels.

Behind her was another nurse, younger but dressed the same. This one had soft auburn hair and was trying to keep her clear nervousness off her face. A clipboard was tucked under her arm as she worked to keep up with her superior’s confidant stride.

The patient moaned; anger clear in her muffled voice. In the outside world she had a wealthy woman. Powerful, the owner of a multinational company. Recently retired into luxury. In here, she was simply another patient to be controlled and treated.

“None of that now,” said the older nurse. “You know what the doctor gets like when you get antsy, dear. We don’t want a repeat of last time, do we? You could barely sit down for days!”

A muffled curse erupted form the patient. Nothing clear, her thick panel gag took care of any chance that she could speak coherently. But the intent of her strangled words was clear.

The older nurse pursed her lips. “Miss Jameson, please note the patient’s disobedience. The doctor will no doubt wish to correct her misbehavior later.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” said the younger woman. She had to slow down to get the note written down in a timely fashion.

“Now let’s get you back to your room, patient. It’s almost time for your daily nap.”

The captive woman only continued to grumble.

X*X*X

“So… she seriously pays the hospital do this to her?” asked Amanda Jameson. “Like, real money?”

“A lot of money,” the older woman replied. Her name was Helen Bronson.

The two nurses were seated at a table in their private break room. They’d kicked off their whight high heeled shoes and were relaxing.

“It’s a pretty easy gig,” Helen said as she munched on a snack. “Doctor Snyder does most of the heavy lifting. We just wheel her around, tie her up, and say scary things.”

“And she actually pays for this. To be treated like some... some locked away prisoner and tied up all the time.”

Helen laughed. “Oh yeah, she’s a real kinky lady.”