Weekend in a double hip spica (Part 2)
Written by Sean on Sunday, January 14, 2007
This is part 2 of the story begun previously. There will be at least a part 3, and perhaps a 4th and final part. The casting "adventure" continues, including other toys.
Emily woke up in the middle of the night. She had wanted to turn over and sleep on her side, however, as she woke up she remembered that Philip had casted her, from toes to nipples, from elbows to fingers. She was well and truly stuck. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her.
“Everything ok?” he asked.
“All fine, just forgot about these,” Emily answered, waving her casted arms around to show her predicament.
She closed her eyes as Philip started caressing her forehead and her hair softly, suggesting she should go back to sleep. Before she knew it, feeling safely ensconced in her fiberglass cage, with Philip’s reassuring presence beside her, she did just that.
The next time she woke, the night was fading into day, light seeping slowly through the curtains. Philip was still beside her, asleep this time. She smiled, and went back to sleep.
She finally woke up fully around 8 in the morning. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept so much, so soundly. She felt stiff, and somewhat sore. She had been on her back without moving for hours on end, the entire night. Philip woke up when he felt her stir. Emily asked him if it would be possible to figure out a way to pee, and then to lay on her stomach for a little bit instead of her back.
“There are a few options for you to pee. First, we can get you a bedpan when you need it. Second, we can diaper you and change it when necessary. Finally, we could catherise you and leave the catheter in for the duration of the weekend. Personally, I prefer the idea of the catheter, as it removes yet one more layer of control, but I know they are uncomfortable when inserted. For right now, to be expedient, I’ll let you use the bedpan, but you should know it’s my least favourite option”.
And with that, Philip transferred to his wheelchair and went to the toilet. He was back moments later, with a bedpan, which he slid under Emily. He asked her if she wanted privacy, and she agreed. Philip left, and shut the door behind him.
When he returned, he had brought a large glass of Gatorade with him. He explained that as she wouldn’t be eating solids until the last day of the casting adventure, she needed to drink “nourishing” fluids. There would be chicken and beef consommé on the menu later on.
Then came time to turn Emily over on her stomach. First, Philip pulled her down on the bed, so her feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. “To avoid your toes being smashed against the bed once you’re turned over, “ he explained. Then he pulled her towards the side of the bed. “To make sure you’re still on the bed after we’ve flipped you over,” he continued to explain. Next he put a pillow beside her, where the end of the cast would be, right below her breasts. “So you have support and don’t lay directly on your boobs, which could be painful,” he said. Finally, he wheeled to the foot of the bed, took hold of one casted foot and lifted the cast up, using her side as a hinge, and rotating her until she was perpendicular to the bed. He asked Emily to use her arm to balance herself and control the descent towards the bed.
She felt quite helpless with the entire lower half of her body completely immobilised, out of her control. She loved that Philip was there to help her past that helplessness. There was something incredibly erotic about being cared for in such a loving way. As she remembered the lovemaking of the previous night, she really started to feel aroused and tried to squeeze her legs together to increase sensations in her nether region. But she couldn’t move an inch, she was still stuck.
And finally she was laying face down, on her stomach, still unable to move. The change in position was welcome, as it gave her back a break.
Philip reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a small plastic bottom, then transferred back on to the bed. He warned her that she might feel a little cold as he poured a little bit of almond oil perfumed with essential oil of mandarin on her back. He proceeded to spread the oil over the exposed parts of her back, shoulder and neck. His hands quickly warmed the oil, and Emily could feel the strong hands move lightly over her skin.
Philip increased the pressure and expertly worked the soreness out of her back. The massage lasted nearly 30 minutes and worked to completely relax her. The parts of herself she could move were feeling relaxed and happy. The parts of her she couldn’t move were almost forgotten.
Philip made her drink another glass of the Gatorade. She found it tricky to drink while laying on her stomach, through a straw, but she managed. He gave her the remote for the TV and told her he’d be back in a short while. He wasn’t leaving the house, but he had things he needed to accomplish.
He left the room, and she turned the TV on. She channel surfed a bit, going from the History Channel to Discovery. She skipped the various cartoon channels, and finally settled on reruns of Law & Order. She watched, keeping an eye and ear on the TV, and her mind drifted. She couldn’t lose herself in the show she usually enjoyed so much, she couldn’t help reflect on the events in her life in the last several months.
After a while, she realised that she needed to pee again. She thought about the two large glasses of Gatorade she had drunk right after waking up and understood that her body had processed them rather quickly. She called Philip, hoping her voice would reach him, wherever he was in the house. But he didn’t come back. And another 15 minutes went by without him coming back. She was painfully holding on to her bladder, and was starting to be a little frantic. She called him again, but he must not have heard, as he didn’t come back. She resumed channel surfing to distract herself, but to no avail, the pressure in her bladder was mounting. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together, but that didn’t work either, due to her casted predicament. She wanted to use her hands to somehow put pressure, but with the casts on her forearms, there was no way she could reach. Finally, after trying to hold off for nearly 45 minutes, she couldn’t hold it anymore, and let go. She peed, without control, and the relief she felt was balanced with being mortified about having wet the bed. Just as she was able to regain some control and stem the flow, Philip arrived in the room, with a large steaming mug.
She saw him and burst into tears. He saw her and took in the situation immediately. He wheeled near the bed, put the mug on the bedside cabinet and leaned down on Emily to hold her and rock her as much as he could despite the cast holding her in place, immobile. Eventually she stopped crying. She exclaimed “the more I cry, the less I pee!” and had a bit of a nervous laugh.
Philip told her it didn’t matter, that the bed had been protected and that the sheets needed to be changed anyway. He disappeared in the toilet briefly and came back with a warm soapy rag, and cleaned Emily up. At that, he pulled some fresh sheets from the drawers, and proceeded to change the bed. He first moved Emily to the edge of the bed, as if he was going to flip her again, then removed the sheets from the free half of the bed, and made that with the fresh sheets. He then did flip her onto her back, and she landed on the fresh sheets. He finished removing the soiled sheets and padding, placed new padding on the mattress, and completed making the bed.
“I still need to go,” Emily said, now lying on her back, feet off the end of the bed, as he came back from throwing the wet sheets in the laundry basket. And Philip repeated the alternatives of bedpan, diapers and catheter. They discussed the fact that clearly, unless Philip was there, the bedpan was not the best option, and he couldn’t stay in the room at all times. Emily didn’t like the idea of diapers, as they’d feel like she was peeing the bed anyway. Eventually, she agreed that an in-dwelling catheter would be the way to go for the weekend.
Philip went back to the bathroom, washed his hands thoroughly and came back to the bedroom with what was needed for the catherisation: a Foley catheter, a sterile bag and tubing, a syringe with water in it, and some anesthetic lubricant. He opened the wrapper for the catheter and connected it to the bag’s tubing. He had planned for an overnight urine collection bag rather than the smaller legbag, as Emily wouldn’t go anywhere. He pulled out the Foley catheter out of the wrapper entirely and applied some lubricant to it. As he proceeded to do so, he was explaining the procedure to a somewhat apprehensive Emily. Finally, he inserted the catheter into her urethra. She felt a slight burning sensation, and a gentle push against her bladder muscle. As soon as the catheter’s tip was into the bladder, the collection bag started filling with urine. Emily had indeed still needed to go! Philip used the syringe to inflate the balloon that would keep the catheter inside Emily’s bladder.
“It is so strange,” she said. “My bladder feels immensely better, I know I don’t have to go anymore, but I didn’t do anything, I didn’t have control over it. It is an interesting feeling, very appealing, to not even have control over when I pee. Soiling myself earlier felt very shameful, and I didn’t like losing control that way, but not having the control to lose in the first place is a very liberating experience.”
Philip smiled and transferred back in the bed with her. He laid down on his side, leaning on his elbow, and gently rubbed her shoulder. His hand traveled across her chest lightly, and he stopped, laying down with her arm around his neck, his arm across her chest. They snuggled for a while.
Emily told him she was now incredibly aroused, and asked him if he could give her release. He smiled, bent down, kissed her bare nipple. He used the tip of his tongue to trace around the nipple, which was getting hard. He licked her breast, slowly, causing pleasure as he was taking pleasure. He put his lips around her nipple and sucked at it, taking small bites. Emily’s breathing was getting faster and shallower. With his right hand, he cupped her left breast, while still sucking on her right nipple. She shuddered at the touch, and moaned. She laughed, and gasped “From… 0… to ecstasy… in… 3.5… secs!”
He rubbed her left nipple between his thumb and index finger, varying the pressure. Emily was shaking, trying to lift herself off the bed to get closer to him, stymied in her action by the cast. She was both frustrated by the limitation and aroused.
Philip shifted position, reaching to kiss her left breast with his mouth, using his hand to brush her labia. The unexpected contact hit her like a shock. As he touched her with his hand, he also bit her nipple hard. She yelled, and felt a series of waves course through her body. Her eyes were closed tight shut as if in pain, she shook her head from side to side.
When the pleasure subsided, she sighed happily and thanked him. She laughed, he laughed. They laughed together at how quickly she had orgasmed. She wondered at the fact he had barely touched her. “It is strange, I don’t think I ever had a lover make me cum almost just by kissing and massaging my breasts,” she said. He just smiled.
They laid side by side for a while, not talking, not needing to talk. She enjoyed the sensations still coursing through her body.
After a few minutes, he remembered the mug, long forgotten, and gone cold. He dragged himself to the edge of the bed and transferred back to his wheelchair. He told her he was going to get her a fresh cup of chicken consommé. She admitted that she felt she could use something to rebuild her strength. “If I can’t have any solids for the next three days,” she said, “and I am going to be given several orgasms like the one I just had, I *will* need all the consommé I can get. I guess it’s a good thing I’m now catherised, isn’t it?”.
He covered her with the sheet so she wouldn’t get cold, and left to go get her a fresh mug of soup.[tags]Fiber, Cast, Double+Hip+Spica, Wheelchair, DHS, Restraint[/tags]
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