by Van ©2015
		Chapter 7

Stanton made three more visits to Judge Bowden and Blondie while Frankie walked and/or ran on the treadmill.  The TV was hi-definition and the viewing angle perfect, but the lens-to-nipples distance too great for Frankie to visually confirm that the doctor actually was progressively piercing the judge's nipples with each adjustment of the nipple clamping and stretching cage-thingies.  Stanton turned a pair of screws during each visit, and by Bowden's reactions it was clear that something unpleasant was happening.  That said, either the entire scenario was playacting or Frankie had every reason to believe that Her Honor's nipples were, indeed, being perforated.

As for the running machine, periods of running, power walking, and normal walking alternated at random intervals, and now, glowing was a thing of the past.  Frankie was sweating like the proverbial horse... a nude horse in a leather armbinder running on a treadmill.  There appeared to be no synchronization between the melodrama on the TV screen and the treadmill.  When Stanton came and went and did her thing, sometimes Frankie was in an all-out run, and sometimes she was trudging along at a sedate walk.

As for Blondie, she continued licking Bowden's pussy the entire time, no matter what else was happening.  With Blondie rope-bound in a reverse prayer and strapped in place against the base of Bowden's gynecological exam table, all Frankie could really see was the back of the blonde's bobbing head, but she had to admire her fellow patient's dedication.

Bowden continued squirming and struggling, more-or-less nonstop, against the many straps binding her in place.  As far as Frankie could tell, Her Honor never shuddered in orgasm, but she did shiver and squirm.

Maybe the 'spider-gag' in Blondie's mouth limits her efforts, Frankie thought.  Either that or Bowden's too distracted by what's happening to her nipples to care.

One thing was for sure: Blondie had a lot of stamina, especially her tongue.  Handicapped by the ring propping open her mouth or not, she was doing her best to entertain Bowden's pussy.

Frankie was in a near sprint and the melodrama on the screen was still playing out when Nurse Clark strolled into the gym, inserted her key in the control console of the running-machine, then flipped a switch.

Frankie sighed as the treadmill slowly ground to a halt, taking most of a minute and giving her ample opportunity to shift gears, so to speak, and stop safely.  Dripping with sweat, panting through flaring nostrils, and her breasts heaving, Frankie stared daggers at her handler.

"Oh, Feisty," Clark chuckled, "if looks could kill."  She tied one end of a coil of rope to the ring in the front of Frankie's plastic-clad, stainless steel patient ID collar, grabbed hold of her ponytail, and backed her off the treadmill.  She then buckled a strap around Frankie's thighs and linked a ring in the back of the strap to the fingertip-ring of her armbinder with a double-ended clip.  Effectively hobbled, Frankie kicking her way to freedom was no longer an option—not that she could have carried off such an escape, anyway.  Frankie could growl through her harness-gag's rubber plug—"Nrrrrf"—but she was tired, nearly exhausted, and the growl came out as more of a cranky whine.

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Clark purred, the rope leash snapped taut, and with mincing, abbreviated steps, Frankie "allowed" herself to be led from the gym.  She managed one last glance at the TV screen before she lost the viewing angle completely.  Bowden was still strapped to the table and not having a good time, and Blondie was still hard at work between Her Honor's splayed legs.

Frankie minced down the hallway at the end of her rope leash.  Clarke led her towards a door with the usual semi-cryptic alphanumeric sign, but in addition, the word "HYDROTHERAPY" was painted on the door itself.  Thinking back, Frankie remembered Jaybird's negative reaction when the nurses discussed her being scheduled for "hydrotherapy."  This was motivation for Frankie to resist... but she was sooooo tired.

Clark unlocked and opened the door, led Frankie across the threshold, and she found herself in a large, tiled space.  There was a bathroom alcove, much like those in the patient rooms, an oval-shaped stainless steel tub, a hose reel mounted to the ceiling, a deep sink, and... a tiled alcove behind a wall of steel bars?

Frankie was still trying to puzzle out the meaning of the tiled jail cell as Clark led her to the commode and plopped her down.  Frankie heaved a gagged sigh and glared at Clark as she relieved herself, but that was her only resistance.  She continued her hostile stare when Clarke stepped on the bidet pedal and drenched her crotch with cold water.

Despite her exhaustion, Frankie found the strength to squirm and kick, as much as the thigh-hobble strap would allow, when Clarke lifted her from the commode, dragged her to the largest open space in the room, and forced her down onto her stomach on the cold tiles.  "Mrrrpfh!"

Clark ignored her patient's mewling complaints, more or less knelt on top of Frankie's wiggling, sweaty body, and started releasing the straps of the armbinder.

Frankie decided she'd be very glad to be out of the tight leather, so she stopped struggling and started planning how she would overpower Clark, once she was free of the sweat-dampened leather.  The problem was, when the armbinder was only half unbuckled, half unlaced, and pulled only halfway down, Clark buckled a new strap around her upper arms, just above her elbows.  It seemed to be made of rubber, and from the click that sounded when Clark secured it in place, it had a plastic snap-buckle.  It was also wide, something between two and three inches.  Most depressing of all, despite its simplicity, the strap rendered Frankie's arms nearly as useless as they'd been in the armbinder.  Overpowering Nurse Clark and escaping remained as elusive a goal as ever.

The armbinder and thigh-strap removed, Clark set to work on Frankie's harness gag.  In short order, the head-caging straps were dangling loose and Clark was easing the rubber plug from Frankie's mouth.  What happened next was entirely predictable.

"M'mmpfh—Mother-fucker!  Get off me, you cow!  Let me go!  Mrrrpfh!"

Clark had Frankie in a tight hand-gag.  "Not cool, Feisty," she chuckled.  "Dr. Stanton frowns on impolite language."  She popped a rubber ball into Frankie's mouth, then secured the buckle of the attached strap behind her head and under her sweaty, tousled hair.

"Nrrrpf!"  The gag was definitely rubber, both the ball and its strap, and the buckle was another snap-buckle, this time much smaller.  "Mrrrfh!"  It was much less effective as a damsel-silencer than the head-harness, but it made articulate conversation—polite or otherwise—impossible.

Next, Clark hauled Frankie to her bare feet, dragged her towards the barred alcove, opened the gate in the bars, and thrust her inside.

Frankie turned to face the bars, growled through her ball-gag—"Nrrrrf!"—the examined her surroundings.  The alcove was about six feet square, there was a large drain covered by a stainless steel grid under her feet, and on all three walls and the points where the horizontal and vertical bars met there were—Uh oh!—tiny nozzles.

Meanwhile, Clark had stepped to the side and was turning a valve.  There was a gurgling sound that lasted for a few seconds... and then...

"Mrrrrrk!"

What amounted to four horizontal rainstorms pelted Frankie's cringing body from all directions with cold water!  There was a fifth, vertical rainstorm from the ceiling as well.  Frankie shivered and turned, bucked and twisted, but the stinging assault was everywhere!  "Nrrrf!"  Thankfully, the cold drops became lukewarm drops... then toasty-warm... and finally, hot!  Frankie stopped struggling and mewling complaints and began luxuriating under the continuing streams.  It was like a full-body massage... sort of.  Anyway, it felt goooood!

And then, it was over.  As quickly as it had begun, the omni-shower stopped.  The gate opened, Clark stepped forward, grabbed a handful of Frankie's tangled, sopping wet hair, and led her from the alcove and towards the stainless steel tub.

"In you go," Clark ordered.

"Nrrrk!"  Frankie tried shaking her head and backing away from the tub, but neither activity was really an option.  "Mrrrf!"  Clarke had tightened her grip and given Frankie a businesslike slap on her left butt-cheek.

"You already have one demerit for badmouthing the staff, Feisty," Clark purred, her smiling lips a half-inch from Frankie's right ear.  "If you don't step into that tub, I'll have no choice but to put you over my knee and give your rebellious rump a thorough spanking.  Understand?"

Nodding her head was impossible, but Frankie stopped struggling, lifted her left leg over the lip, and Clark steadied her body as she stepped inside the steel tub.  She found the interior sloped at the ideal angle for her to recline against one end of the tub in a comfortable manner, despite her elbow-bound condition.

Meanwhile, Clark had released Frankie's hair and lifted some sort of steel bracket and clicked it in place behind Frankie's head.  It had a half circle thickly padded with rubber that cradled the back of her neck.  Clark then lifted a much larger steel grid and slid it forward.  The grid's openings were about four square inches each, and it was instantly clear that together with whatever Clark had already snapped in place behind her head, the grid and bracket formed a lid or cover.  There was another padded half circle in the front, so Frankie's neck was now captured in what amounted to a wide, padded collar with her head above the lip of the tub and the rest of her inescapably trapped within.

Clark turned a tap and water began filling the tub—very cold water!

"Nrrrrf!"  Frankie watched as Clark smiled, spun on her heels, and left the room, leaving the door open behind her.  Water continued splashing... about a minute passed... and the water was up to Frankie's waist and rising towards her breasts, and it was cold!  Then, Clark reappeared, pushing a steel cart laden with two white, ten-gallon plastic buckets.  She pushed the cart close to the tub, lifted one of the buckets, and proceeded to dump its contents through the grid and into the tub—and those contents were—ice cubes!

"NRRRRR!"

The contents of the second bucket followed the first—"NRRR!"—and Frankie found herself up to her neck in ice-water!  She shivered and squirmed, but was going nowhere—and the icy water was everywhere!  "M'mmmpfh!"

Clark turned off the water tap, then smiled.  "Dr. Stanton ordered your initial hydrotherapy session to be the minimal standard period," she purred.  Eyes locked with her nurse, Frankie continued shivering.  "With your demerit, I could extend your session by one increment," Clark added, "but I think I'll be a nice nurse and we'll just pretend your rude behavior never happened."  With that, Clark turned and wheeled the cart and the two empty buckets from the room.  This time, she closed the door behind her and Frankie heard a key turn in the lock.

Frankie was now shivering uncontrollably.  'Minimal standard period,' Frankie thought.  I wish 'mimimal' meant five minutes ago!

Actually, "minimal" turned out to mean something like five very cold minutes.  Clark returned, started the tub draining, removed the grid/lid/cover thing, and helped a thoroughly chilled and violently shivering Frankie from the remaining ice.  Frankie, of course, was very happy to be out of the tub and just stood there, not even thinking about escape.

Jesus H Christ! the frigid prisoner thought.  I think I have goosebumps on my goosebumps!

Clark gave Frankie a brisk toweling, then led her from the Hydrotherapy Room and down the hall to the elevator.  Their ultimate destination was Frankie's patient room—at least Frankie was pretty sure it was her room.  It had the same layout and furnishings as the room in which she'd spent the previous night, anyway.

Clark then proceeded to "dress" Frankie in a body-harness of black nylon straps.  Actually, most of the harness' straps were black.  Several dangling buckles and nylon straps were red.  Soon, the harness yoked Frankie's shoulders, pinned her upper arms to her sides and encircled her torso above and below her breasts, pinned her forearms and encircled her waist, and cuffed her wrists to her thighs.  This required Clark to remove Frankie's rubber elbow strap, of course, but the naked patient remained under her handler's total control through the entire process.

The lower half of the harness bound Frankie's legs together above and below her knees, across her shins and calves, and around her ankles, feet, and big toes.  Overkill much? Frankie thought as she watched Clark secure the final buckle.  Both the torso and leg portions of the harness had secondary red straps and buckles, and as yet none of them had been used.  Only black straps rendered Frankie helpless.

Clarke helped Frankie hop to the straight chair next to the bed, tightened a strap across her lap, and Frankie was in the chair to stay.  She watched as Clark exited the room.

The drapes were open and Frankie could see that it was late in the day.  The mountains were as picturesque as ever, but already more than half the visible lower slopes were cloaked in shadow.  Minutes passed... the shadows climbed the mountains... and the color of the sunlight deepened towards a warm orange.

Clark reappeared pushing a steel cart, and atop he cart were four covered plates and four plastic bottles of water.  "Good news, Feisty," she purred as she removed the cover from one of the plates.  "Last night, you were last in line for dinner, so tonight you get to eat first."

Frankie found herself staring at a plate of some sort of pasta with a small side salad.  As Clark removed her ball-gag, Frankie's stomach grumbled.  Breakfast, which had been a bowl of oatmeal, was many eventful hours in the past, and she'd missed lunch.

"I assume you're ready to eat in polite silence?" Clark inquired.

Frankie nodded, her eyes on the food.

"Good girl," Clark chuckled, and began feeding her patient.

Soon, the food was consumed, Frankie's tummy was full—or full-ish—and Clark was transferring the dirty plate, its cover, and the now empty water bottle to the cart's lower shelf.  Next, Clark released Frankie from the chair, helped her hop to the bathroom alcove, loosened the relevant harness straps, and Frankie relieved herself.  Then, Clark led her to the bed and helped her recline.

Frankie was glad to no longer be hopping around the room, especially with her ankles, feet, and big toes bound by nylon straps, and was also glad to be lying on the cool, crisp sheets.  She was not glad when Clark plastered a wide strip of medical tape over her mouth.  "Mrrrrf!"

"Don't pout," Clark scolded with a gloating smile, then turned and left the room, pushing the cart before her.

She has three more patients to feed, Frankie thought as the door was closed and locked.  Frankie assumed she was in for the night and wouldn't be disturbed until dawn.  She was wrong.

Frankie opened her eyes when she heard the key rattling in the door.  She didn't know how much time had passed, but a glance out the window told her it was now fully after dark.  The door opened, Clark took a step inside, and Kim followed, wheeling a wheelchair.  Sitting in the chair was Patient Jaybird, and as far as Frankie could tell, her fellow brunette was bound in a full-body harness of black and red straps identical to her own.  Jaybird's brown locks were loose about her strap-yoked shoulders, like Frankie's; however, the newcomer's hair was clean and brushed, very much unlike Frankie's tousled bird nest.  There was one other thing they had in common: Jaybird's lips were sealed by a broad strip of medical tape that covered most of her lower face.  Her lips stood out in three-dimensional detail, and Frankie was sure her own tape-gag had the same appearance.

What now? Frankie wondered as Jaybird and her chair were wheeled close to the bed.  Then, the nurses released the straps keeping Jaybird in the chair and lifted her onto the bed, next to Frankie.  They then rolled the identically bound patients onto their sides—Frankie on her right side and Jaybird on her left—and began securing the red buckles and straps.  To be precise, a red strap of one patient's harness would be threaded through the complementary red buckle of the other patient's harness, the slack removed, the buckle secured, then they'd move on to the next dangling pair.

Clark and Kim started at Frankie and Jaybird's feet and worked their way up, rolling their helpless bodies as necessary.  What had started as casual face-to-face closeness quickly became what might be called involuntary snuggling—and then got even tighter and more intimate!

"Mrrrpfh!"  Frankie complained through her tape-gag and tried to struggle.  Jaybird simply took what was happening in stride, so to speak.

All too soon, the last red buckle was secure and the nurses were going back over both harnesses and, where possible, tightening the straps even further.

Now, Frankie and Jaybird weren't simply lying on their sides face-to-face.  Their bound toes were strapped together in a bundle of four and they were knees-to-knees, thighs-to-thighs, tummy-to-tummy, and breasts-to-breasts.  In Frankie's opinion, things were especially close breasts-to-breasts.  In fact, their boobs were squashed together, and even more so when they both exhaled at the same time.  Jaybird's tape-gagged face was right there, meaning right in front of Frankie's tape-gagged face. 

"Now, you girls behave yourselves," Clark said as Kim lifted the bed's side rails and locked them in place, first on the left... and then on the right.  Not that Frankie wanted to, but rolling with Jaybird off the bed and crashing to the floor was now out of the question.

Kim smiled at her fellow nurse.  "I wish Doc would let us use the double head-harness, so they could suck face and swap saliva all night."

Clark smiled back.  "This is Feisty's first shared night," she said.  "Doctor Stanton believes in the gradual approach.  First the double body-harness, then the double head-harness, and finally, the double dildo-harness."

Kim and Clark smiled down at the intimately bound patients on the bed and Frankie and Jaybird stared back, as best they could.  Strands of commingled brown hair had fallen across their faces.

"We done here?" Kim said, finally.

"Let's see," Clark purred.  "The judge had her oil massage and her nipple dressings changed and is strapped to her bed, Blondie is ball-tied on her bed, and Doctor Red is playing connect-the-freckles with Patient Red in Treatment Three.  She'll put her to bed... eventually."

"Feathers?" Kim asked.

Clark nodded.  "Doc likes using feathers."

"Poor Red," Kim chuckled.

"Anyway," Clark continued, "yes, I think we're done."

With that, the nurses closed the drapes and left the room, turning off the lights and closing and locking the door behind them.  Now, the only light was from two blue-green nightlights, both near the floor, one in the bathroom alcove and the other near the head of the bed.

Frankie could see Jaybird's eyes staring at her, and realized she was staring back.  Frankie heaved a sigh—carefully ignoring the squeeze that imparted to their squashed breasts—then closed her eyes.

Time passed.

Frankie considered squirming and struggling, but she knew it was hopeless.  Also, she didn't want to cause any discomfort for her fellow patient.

More time passed.

Suddenly, Frankie realized Jaybird had twisted her right wrist, awkwardly groped with her hand, and was clutching the fingers of Frankie's left hand.  Their fingers intertwined and they were holding hands, sort of.  And then, Jaybird's hand tightened and gave Frankie's a gentle squeeze.

Much to her surprise, Frankie was suddenly very much afraid she was going to cry.  Her eyes welled with tears and a sob escaped her tape-gagged lips.

Jaybird squeezed Frankie's hand, again, then settled her head against Frankie's shoulder.

Frankie sobbed again, and continued sobbing.  It was embarrassing.  Frankie the tough-as-nails investigative reporter, weeping like a schoolgirl in response to a simple gesture of kindness.  Embarrassing.

Eventually, Frankie knew they'd get tired of lying on the same side and would have to roll over.  It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night, but she wasn't alone.  Frankie was naked and helpless and gagged... but she wasn't alone.