Page 11 of Our Bodies, Our Choice

Propofol is a fast-acting anaesthetic. The effects are rapid, too, usually within thirty seconds to a minute, and lasting anywhere from four to eight minutes with a single dose. That’s all depending on the patient of course, but it gave me enough time to get him up on the table—with the help of Nora of course—and tied down.

Ben is face down, bent over the table with his ass and legs hanging over the edge. His wrists are secured at each corner with thick rope, and his ankles are tied to the opposite leg, giving him a minimal range of motion. At the same time the alarm on my watch starts beeping, Ben’s eyes begin to flicker, and his head starts to roll from side to side.

“Ben, so nice of you join me on this momentous occasion.” I smile, rounding the steel table and running the tips of my fingers along the cold metal as I do. The balaclava over my face keeps my identity hidden for the time being.

He groans, opening and then squeezing his eyes shut to clear away the blur coating them. “Wh—” He breathes gently, rolling his head to the side. “Who…” He coughs, clearing his throat. “Who are you?”

“The question isn’t who am I, but… what am I going to do to you.”

Ben tugs at his restraints, becoming more and more flustered with the realisation he can’t move, jerking his arms and legs, but the straps becoming none the looser.

“Is this really any way to talk to someone when you’re tied up like a Thanksgiving ham? I mean, come on.”

“YOU FUCKING WHORE!!” The furious bellow of his words echo through the room, his eyes focused on me with hatred dancing through them and his teeth are grinding together so tightly they might crack.

I frown. “C’mon, Ben, I haven’t said anything bad about you and like… right off the bat you want to insult me. Rude much.”

“You’re fucking worthless!” Ben seethes. “Y’know that?!” Spit flies from his mouth and teeth. “If you think I’m going to fucking beg a womb-carrier like you to let me go… then you’re sorely mistaken.” He barks out a laugh.

“Give it time.” I smirk, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “When you feel what I’ve got in store for you, princess, you’ll be screaming for me to kill you.”

“You don’t have it in you! Women are weak, all you do is respond based off of your emotions. Men. Get. Shit. Done. And yet here you are thinking you can play our game?!”

Rolling my eyes, I walk out of his field of view. “Women have been playing our own game for hundreds of years,” I respond, running my fingers along the steel tray situated beside him. “Doing everything we can to survive a man’s bullshit. Because even when they say they’re they good ones… they never are.”

“Aww, was the poor little girl hurt by a big, burly man?” Ben laughs at me.

I should’ve fucking gagged him.

“Hey, what’s all the noise?” Paz questions from behind me.

I turn to face her and groan, rolling my eyes back. “I didn’t gag him, wanna help me a quickly before you go to help Nora?”

“Fuck it, why not.”

I grin in her direction and walk over to the wooden work bench behind me, picking up a pair of forceps and some gardening sheers. “Think you can hold his head down for me? Keep his mouth open?” I shrug questioningly.

The moment Ben realises what I’m about to do, his eyes widen in complete and utter terror. With what little movement he has, Ben thrashes around, calling and shouting for someone to help him. Paz doesn’t waste any time, pulling her arm back and punching him square in the face.

Shaking her hand out, she groans, “Fuck, that shit hurt.”

I giggle. “Pussy.”

Frowning, Paz flips me off before pressing all her weight onto Ben’s head and holding it down, and with her free hand she grips his jaw and opens it. Sliding the forceps in his mouth, I grip his tongue and pull it nice and taught. Opening up the sheers, I place his tongue between it.

“You might be sicker than I actually thought.” Paz chuckles before the inevitable happens and I snip Ben’s tongue off as close to the root as I can.

The shrill cry of agony that leaves his mouth is astounding. Blood sprays from the open wound, coating the steel table as it gushes from the inside of his mouth and turning his white flesh claret. I turn my head and look at the tongue still gripped between the forceps and grimace.

“Eurgh.”

“Pussy,” Paz snorts, so I thrust the tongue towards her, causing her to release a yelp as she jumps backwards, and I can’t control the burst of laughter that falls from my lips. The sound of it working over Ben’s scream of anguish.

“Yeah, I’m the pussy alright.”

“Go fuck yourself, I’d never do that to you.” She narrows her eyes, but I know she would in a heartbeat. I raise my left eyebrow, calling her bluff because she’s a fucking liar. “Alright fine,” she groans inwardly. “I totally would.”

“Exactly.” I turn my attention back to Ben, watching scarlet liquid gush from his mouth, and smile. Spinning on my heel, I saunter back to the table behind me, placing his tongue in a clear glass jar and screwing on the lid for safe keeping. “You can go see Nora; I’ll be fine here. Just let her know I won’t be too long.”