Room B13

"Oh God," I tried to say through my open mouth as I looked at myself in the mirror. I could see my nipples were standing straight up and I could feel the muscles in my pelvis shake and quiver. I thought, "Jesus, they're making me orgasm right here in front of everyone and I can't control it." I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at the students and staff who were watching me climax repeatedly with such cold scientific interest.

After a considerably longer pause than before, the stimulator beeped and the tingling started again. I moaned as it increased and I began struggling against my restraints. I was afraid that the next orgasm would carry me over the fine line between bliss and agony. The sensation built in intensity relentlessly. As I neared climax, again, I became anxious. My head came up and I looked straight down between my legs at my intent audience as another orgasm slammed over my body like pounding surf and ebbed away slowly like the tide; but, before it did, I observed something that amazed me even in the throws of my rapture. It was a stream of clear liquid, rhythmically gushing from the general area of my vagina. From where, exactly, I couldn't be certain at the time. I also noticed that it was landing on a strategically placed absorbent pad on the floor that had obviously been left behind precisely for this purpose.

My first thought was that this was urine; but I quickly reasoned that this wasn't possible with the Foley lodged tightly in my urethra. Although up until that day, I had never known that a woman could ejaculate, my experiences that morning quickly proved that they do.

Upon reading up on the subject over the week that followed my first visit to the teaching hospital, I learned that my ejaculate was made by peri-urethral glands and that it emanated from my "paraurethral ducts" just below my urethra.

My thoughts were interrupted by yet another beep from the stimulation generator. Apparently, more time than I had realized had elapsed while I mulled over what I later learned to be my ejaculatory response.

My excitement grew quickly as the little tremors returned to my body and I prepared myself for another climax. I began to quake and shiver as the orgasm built rapidly. Soon, I sensed that orgasm was imminent. My body was hammered by another violent climax that lingered as it got harder and harder and harder until I literally felt pummeled by it. After perhaps a full minute, it peaked and subsided. Pain shot through me once again until, just a second later, the stimulation stopped.

My head fell back and I took one deep breath before hearing the beep and the stimulation started anew. I instantly had those now familiar little tremors again. I became extremely apprehensive. I didn't think I could take much more of this. The term, "shattering orgasm" came to mind as I once again had a thought that nearly made me laugh out loud: my initial impression was correct. This was a strange form of bionic foreplay and now, if this continued much longer, I felt sure that I'd be a dead woman.

My head bobbed uncontrollably as the pulses built toward yet another climax that actually made me see stars as it arrived in a blinding flash.

Then the stimulation stopped, again. The twitching of my tits and hips were becoming painfully intense. My muscles felt like putty after working convulsively in the throws of one towering orgasm after another.

The current stopped for about 15 minutes, apparently so that I could again regain my composure. I relaxed and drifted.

After this respite, I again heard the beep signaling the start of another orgasmogenic cycle and felt the familiar tingling welling up inside me and crawling along the surface of my genitals. Tears of both joy and anguish rolled down my cheeks as I looked up at the people watching me "cum", over and over, again. I took some deep breaths and tried to prepare. My tears flowed even more profusely as the potent tingling increased. I was soon in full orgasm. My belly tightened around the huge load of fluid that filled my bladder and rectum. The uncontrollable orgasm shot from my genitals out to the tips of every extremity. I could now literally sense the intense orgasm out at the tips of my fingers and toes! My flesh seemed to shudder and undulate as strong sensations reverberated throughout my entire body. The term "flesh quake" came to mind. I was cumming --- again.

Then, mercifully, the stimulation stopped. However, this time, the beep, followed by the pulses and tiny tremors almost immediately followed. I was certain that I couldn't take these staccato orgasms, one after another like this. I could hear myself squeaking like a mouse as the mini tremors swept through my body. I was drenched in sweat, my hair was matted and my muscles ached form their nearly constant spasms. Then, my back arched and I once again strained against my bonds as I reached one climax after another.

Soon, nothing came out of my very dry and wide open mouth except little grunts, groans and squeaks. The orgasmogenic cycle repeated periodically and continuously as morning turned into afternoon. I almost lost track of time. In the periods between stimulation, I sunk into a deeply introspective reverie in which I imagined my body floating through a dark and infinite void. I began to contemplate the complex and even profound sensations that I was experiencing. Periodically, I was snatched back to a hyper-orgasmic reality, after which I'd return to my private reverie.

After a while, in one of the silent interludes, I imagined my body washed in an infinite, warm and inviting ocean. These interludes were now becoming my main focus. The prominence of the orgasms diminished to mere punctuation. My thoughts turned to the sexual norms that had been instilled in me by my parents and, ultimately, even to the societal norms enforced by our peers, priests and authorities. I thought about my attitudes toward sex, love, pleasure and responsibility.

At length, during another respite from the relentless orgasmic onslaughts that punctuated my languour, the doors to the Procedure Theatre seemed to burst open and people rushed into the room. As I focused my attention and tried to make sense of what was happening, gradually, I understood that the entire Procedure Room staff was returning.

The doctor took his seat. I made eye contact with him through red, dried tear encrusted eyes as he sat between my aching legs. As his eyes met mine, the doctor announced, "I will now drain the subject's bladder and re-instill another 500 cc of conductive fluid." I felt the thing in my pee hole being manipulated and heard the fluid from my poor tortured bladder flowing into the stainless steel pan under me.

The nurse arrived with a fresh bag of electrolyte for my imminent bladder infusion. She also hung a fresh saline IV and swabbed my mouth with the foul stuff again. As she did so she whispered into my ear, "Don't worry Leslie, you can take this. We're carefully monitoring your vitals. You're doing just fine. I know that your tired. Hang in there for us. Are you going to be alright, honey?" I nodded my head slightly.

The doctor adjusted the tubing from the freshly hung bag of electrolytic fluid and connected it to what he then referred to as my "urethral fixture" meaning, my special Foley catheter. He then immediately reached up and opened the clamp on the tubing. Cool fluid drained into my now empty and enervated bladder. The doctor stood and placed a cuff, similar to the cuff on my arm, around the small IV bag containing the electrolytic fluid. I wondered what its purpose could be. He reached for the inflation bulb hanging from the cuff and began to rapidly pump. As the cuff expanded it squeezed the IV bag and I could feel a forceful gush of the cool solution cascade into my bladder like a cold tidal wave washing through my lower pelvis. He continued to pump the bulb until the bag was once again empty and then turned to the gallery.

"Ms. Martin has now completed two hours of the four hour regimen scheduled for today," said Dr. Bower. I groaned at the prospect of another two hours of orgasmic assault, as he spoke.

The nurse now stood by to operate the stimulation generator. "We will commence stimulation again on my mark.....5...4...3....2...1... mark", said the doctor. I shook my head and tried to indicate that I'd had enough. I looked into the doctors eyes pleadingly as the tingling started once again to reverberate through my pelvis and radiate out through the rest of my body. "Oh," I thought, "I won't be able to do this for another two hours!" My body started to tighten with the increasing sensations coursing through me. My chin dug into my chest as my next orgasm neared. Then, I threw my head back, only to have it rise slightly off the pillow again in a convulsion of simultaneous bliss and agony that made my body dance to the stimulation generator's tune in orgasmic spasms.

So that's how it went....My bladder had been drained and refilled. One or more orgasms started every 3 to 17 minutes for the next two hours as I once again drifted into a dreamy reverie, punctuated by orgasmic frenzy. The doctors, nurses, students and research assistants, all strangers, witnessed my most private act, again and again and again, right in front of them, but they would never share my private thoughts. As they tended to their data and instruments, recording the details of my sexual titillation, I thought in turn about sex, pain, pleasure, inhibition and then finally came to something that surprised me: exhibitionism.

I realized now that I WAS enjoying this. And I wasn't just enjoying the multi-orgasmic pleasure. I was enjoying and, in fact, was even aroused by, the keen interest in me and my body. I also was coming to appreciate the subtle and delicious intersection of pleasure and pain. I was also beginning to comprehend that my feelings of humiliation that day had been both unwarranted and unnecessary. I decided that I was proud of my body, proud of how tough it was, proud of what it could do and proud of the contribution that I was making to the program.

Nonetheless, I was happy when Doctor Bower returned and announced that I had completed the first day of the four day study. As the gallery full of students above us emptied out, he personally thanked me for my participation and told me that the data that that had been generated that day would contribute to a body of knowledge that would radically improve society's understanding of the underlying neurophysiology of the human sexual response. He also told me that I was a "trooper" and a particularly good subject. I found myself basking in his praise.

Doctor Bower stayed behind that day to personally assist in my "after care". He gently removed the "fixtures", clamps, wires, pads and instruments from my body, personally.

I almost had to be carried out of the Procedure Theatre. My body wouldn't seem to respond readily to my commands. The attendants that led me in that morning helped me out of the Theatre and back into the exam room, where they placed me on the toilet. Dr. Bower was there to help hold up my now limp body as it released the electrolytic fluid from my bowls and bladder.

I could feel the muscles in my private places quiver and shake. As my belly emptied, I started to feel better. I was given water and hot chocolate to drink and began to feel reinvigorated. A sense of well being gradually settled over me.

When the nurse asked how I felt, I was surprised to say that aside from being totally exhausted and more than just a little crampy, I actually felt exhilarated.

As we spoke, Dr. Bower approached with a glove and a tube of something. He put the glove on and began to apply a very soothing salve to my chapped nipples. I was surprised by my body's pleasant reaction to his gentle touch. Looking into my eyes, he sensed that I was actually enjoying his gentle care and asked if I wanted some salve applied to my sore clitoris and "rear entrance".

I looked into his face with slightly downcast eyes and demurely answered, "yes, I would like that very much." He gently lifted me onto the table and spread my legs for the last time that day. He opened my inflamed labia to reveal my sore little clit and touched it gently with a dab of the salve. I felt soothing relief as he slowly worked it into my inflamed and distressed clitoris. After a while, however, something began to stir within me. I enjoyed it fully, but surreptitiously. However, looking back on this today, both older and wiser now, I sincerely doubt that he was oblivious to this fact. The erotic overtones were obvious.

When he finished ministering to my clitoris, Dr. Bower turned his attention to my irritated labia and sore "bum". Again, I found that I was thoroughly enjoying the attention and the salve clearly did calm and sooth my pouting red lips and little rosebud.

When Doctor Bower had finished, he rose and bid me goodbye and left me to take a nap before my ride home would be summoned. It took me an hour of dosing and another half hour of conscious effort to get my body back under my full control.

When I was finally almost prepared to leave that day, I asked the nurse, "What time is it?" "Five thirty", she answered. My experimental regimen must have started at around nine that morning. It had been a long and very interesting day. As I pondered this, the same attendants that had been with me all day, returned with my clothes and helped me get dressed. One of them even tied my shoes for me.

When I was fully dressed, I was ushered out carefully to the front desk where I was handed a check for $1,300 for the day's participation. I smiled and bid my nurse good bye. She returned my smile and I wobbled out of the waiting room in B13 and into the waiting arms of my boy friend, Ken. As Ken embraced me, the nurse called after us, "I'll see you at five AM sharp next Friday, Ms. Martin, please be punctual." A shiver went down my spine. It was a shiver of excitement and anticipation.

Ken took me home and put me in our bed. I nearly slept away the entire 24 hours that followed. Ken brought me soup to eat and I slept. The following Monday, I arrived at school, still walking slowly, slightly bent over and sore; but, actually looking forward to Friday.

Despite questions from Ken, both during and after, the research project, I limited both the scope and specificity of my answers. Ken never learned the details of my experiences in the hospital basement. I held those details and my thoughts about them close to me. Ken sensed that they were for me and no one else. He never intruded despite the fact that we have now been married almost thirty years and have two grown kids.

Through all of the years since the research project, I've harbored a profound interest in medically oriented sexual play that I now know is Medical Fetish. I believe my participation in the research project, back at my university, almost thirty years ago, may well have been formative in the development of that interest.

My husband, Ken, knows about my fetish interests but, unfortunately, doesn't share any of these proclivities with me, so, we rarely speak of them.

I have seen Dr. Bower regularly, however. He's been a prominent private practice OB/GYN in our area and has been my Gynecologist for most of the years since I graduated from college. He's seen me through marriage, medical school, two births, menopause and a recent hysterectomy.

I now hold the professorship that Doctor Bower once held at our hospital where, in addition to my teaching responsibilities in the field of Andrology, I run the same medical research program that he ran back when I was a test subject many years ago.

Yesterday, I learned that Doctor Bower had died in a car accident over the previous weekend. We shared a long and very special relationship. I trusted and respected him deeply. His death made me think of that day, long ago, when I first met him. I decided to write down what happened that day, while it is still so fresh in my mind.