Warning: This story contains descriptions of torture. If you are a minor or are easily offended by this 
type of content, then please do not read.

Bloom: Part 5 - In Sickness as in Health

Karen was a master at adapting. One brief attempt at marriage had resulted in a mercifully quick end, and then she met an extremely wealthy landowner who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Karen didn’t particularly like him, however the tradeoff would be all the money she could ever want. He was a controlling, arrogant, lying cheat…but she possessed something that could defeat him: patience. She could wait years, and she did, buying her time. This was a job with very early retirement. She let his affairs go on “unnoticed”, while keeping track of every detail and documenting whatever she could. When the time came to sever the bonds of matrimony, Karen produced a virtual scythe - boxes full of documentation on her husband’s illicit affairs and illegal dealings – letting her lawyer play the Reaper, watching as he sliced more and more money away for her. It was not a divorce; it was rape.

Never wanting children, it was her second husband’s persistence and constant demanding that had finally forced Karen into the fertility clinic. His low sperm count had ruled out any natural methods, yet the impotent fuck still pushed – he had to have a child. She had married him for the money, not a damn family, and when they had dated he had agreed with her that he didn’t want children, but that was the first of his many lies. The clinic had tried several times to do in-vitro fertilization, but her secret use of a combination of RU 486 - the morning after pill, and a drug named Prostaglandin ensured that the pregnancy would never take. She had often wondered if drugs like these were available to her mother, would Karen even exist? She was the only child and felt that her mother thought of her as a burden, and dad was just not there in any way… period. Now, by her own hand, she did have a “child” in a way, her slave was utterly dependent on her for everything. She had a child and her child was now very sick.

Karen was totally unprepared for this.

The sickness had come on suddenly. Of course Karen herself had been ill before and she had to care for her husband at times, but it was rarely anything serious. Waiting it out with a few medications to help ease the symptoms had been the standard, with a couple of exceptions being trips to the hospital. There could be no hospital visit now, but Sandra clearly needed one. Karen couldn’t even determine what Sandra was suffering from. The high fever and horrible cough had led her to believe it was pneumonia, but she wasn’t sure as she didn’t think the vomiting was a symptom. The symptoms persisted and got worse. How could she treat something if she didn’t even know what it was? She had an old bottle of Tetracycline left over from something she couldn’t even remember (a tooth problem?), and Karen began giving Sandra large doses. Sandra was led out of her prison for the first time as Karen took her upstairs, bathed her, fed her, and cared for her, as would any real mother. She would NOT allow her to die, would not allow this slave to end the dream Karen had created! Karen had positioned Sandra’s cuffs in front of her now and had placed a leg chain between her ankles; Sandra was too weak to escape, she was sure, but as an extra precaution Karen kept the stun gun strapped to her own wrist at all times. Tightly wrapped in a blanket, Karen let Sandra share her bed at night, and held her…as if to let go would let her dream die.

Sometimes Sandra knew exactly where she was, but these times were fewer and fewer. Most of the time she just knew something was terribly wrong, but she didn’t feel good, and she thought it must be the sickness. Her hair fell out, which was alarming! Cancer? She kept being reminded of this as she tried to wipe her forehead, and she had cuffs on, weird…but she didn’t really care. She just wanted to sleep. The nurse was nice…(No she wasn’t!)…and Sandra couldn’t remember where she knew her from. So pretty. She tried to eat but it always kept coming back up and Sandra felt awful she got sick on the nurse…(Here you go bitch!). She was so sorry, but was thankful the nurse helped her all the time. Sandra Sometimes had terrible thoughts about the nurse, and tried to quickly wipe them away, she must be very sick to think of such appalling things…(Kill her!! Bash her fucking head in!!). She even once tried to reach for the stun gun dangling from the nurse’s wrist, but didn’t quite have the energy, that was a dreadfully rude thing to do anyways. That was the nurse’s and the nurse needed that. Stupid! Sorry. The best thing she could do right now would be to try to be more helpful and then maybe just…sleep a bit.

Sandra felt good to be all wrapped up at night even though it was quite warm. The woman, (or was it the nurse?), held her all night long, and sometimes she would kiss Sandra telling her to get better. The kisses occasionally were more sensual, and she hated to do this but Sandra had to turn away as she didn’t have the energy to make out with her, Sandra hoped her nurse/lover would understand. She really did appreciate it. Then finally in the mornings her lover would appear like an angel over Sandra and help her up to a hot bath. She would wash her and caress her, and Sandra always tried to thank the angel. She was so beautiful. Angels didn’t have swords or harps anymore; they had stun guns, and that was funny. Sandra smiled at the angel and the angel smiled back.

In Karen’s garden the blooms had fallen. The rose bush had dropped its wondrous black petals and now looked as all the other deflowered bushes looked everywhere, and nothing more. Karen knew that somehow her actions were intrinsically tied to the plant, so what did this mean? Was she not doing enough for Sandra’s recovery? Was she not doing enough for herself? Karen searched in vain for the beginnings of future buds but came up empty; perhaps it had been a wonderful but temporary anomaly. It might now go back to its dormant state, never to bloom again. No! Damned if she would let this bitch die! Karen had control and Karen had the power. With a new determination she set about trying to find a solution, scouring the web for solutions to Sandra’s health. She would treat the symptoms as opposed to trying to determine the cause. This was the reverse of what she had done so far, but it couldn’t get much worse. Karen ordered new antibiotics and an IV setup as she decided that Sandra badly needed fluids and nutrients.

A week later Karen had managed to bring Sandra’s fever down to a reasonable level. While still not out of the woods, she felt that Sandra would recover, as she was able to hold down more food. This was a tense time for Karen because she didn’t quite know how delirious Sandra was anymore. It was obvious that, before this recovery, Sandra was out of it and had no idea of her own situation – she had even looked at Karen several times with thankful adoration! But for right now, if Sandra was recovering her wits and strength quicker than she was letting on, it could be dangerous. Nonetheless, Karen still had to nurse her back to health. Karen ran another chain between Sandra’s leg chain and her handcuffs, so while still allowing her movement it might prevent any sudden attempts to strike out if Sandra was stronger than she appeared. No longer could Karen trust Sandra to sleep in the same bed as her, so she pulled a second iron bed into the room and chained Sandra to the frame at night. The first time this happened it earned Karen an angry glance from Sandra…she was getting better.

All this was not at all part of Karen’s plan, the center of all this effort was supposed to be Karen, not Sandra, and while this wasn’t something Sandra brought upon herself, Karen resented her for it nonetheless. Slowly, as Sandra became better and better, Karen began to resume her dominance, and finally, fed up and frustrated, she tied Sandra face down and fully secured to the bed frame, took off her own cotton panties and stuffed them in Sandra’s mouth. She then grabbed some nylons and wrapped them around Sandra’s head, keeping the panties in place. Sandra, while not yet 100%, was aware enough to be alarmed. Karen pushed two pillows under Sandra’s pelvis to raise up the ass. Karen then lubricated and secured a strap-on dildo and proceeded to rape her anally. The first push was the worst as Sandra’s virgin rosebud was quickly stretched beyond a point it had ever been before, creating an intense pressure that felt unnatural to her and almost made her sick. She thought at first she was going to shit all over but finally realized that it was almost impossible with that monstrous object pushing up the rectum again and again. How could anyone enjoy this? Sandra’s tight asshole was no match for Karen’s dildo as it was assaulted by thrust after thrust, compelling Sandra to scream into the makeshift gag.

Karen thought if Sandra wasn’t fully cognizant of her predicament before this, it certainly was a brutal awakening back to the reality of her situation. Thrusting as much in anger as in passion, Karen slapped her pelvis against Sandra’s ass, relishing in both the sound of the slapping as well as the cries from Sandra. It had been weeks since Karen came and it was time to pay her back in spades. Karen quickened the pace even further as she felt the familiar rush coming on, now slapping Sandra’s ass with her hands as well as her now drenched groin. She then grabbed Sandra’s hips giving her extra force as Karen rammed home the strap-on, arriving at the edge…and then over…furiously pumping…as she collapsed on top of Sandra’s back, laughing and releasing her pent up juice. Sandra was raggedly sobbing, as she should be. Karen squeezed her slave tightly knowing that the Bloom would be back. Her Bloom was a state of mind, and she controlled it…as she willed it to blossom.