Playing with fire (Part one)

Copyright 2008.  No part of this may be copied, edited, folded, spindled, or mutilated without the express written permission of the author.

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She’d been informed of the damage that had been done, and was grateful it wasn’t worse.

“Wasn’t expecting you to respond quite so quickly, Dr. Wilson,” the nurse said as she wheeled the patient from the ER toward the recovery room.  “She’s sedated, so won’t be able to answer any questions for a few hours anyways.”

“That’s fine, Irene – I appreciate your having contacted me as soon as you did.”

Still somewhat shell-shocked from having been roused from a dead sleep, Dr. Kendra Wilson was nonetheless used to on-call situations, making a fast turnaround time – especially in circumstances like this.  There were advantages to Starbucks having set up shop in the foyer of the hospital, too.

“The man who brought her in – dunno if it’s her husband or what – he’s in the waiting room, if you want to speak to him.”

“Could you direct him to my office?” Dr. Wilson asked as they finished wheeling the patient in and set up the monitors.  “I just need a moment to check the patient’s vital signs.”

“Certainly, Doctor.”

Dr. Wilson offered a smile of thanks as Nurse Irene left and the door whooshed to silence behind her.  Taking a deep breath, Kendra rubbed her eyes before focusing on the woman who lay asleep in the bed before her.

In her practice as part of the on-call trauma response team, Dr. Kendra Wilson had been witness to some pretty heart-wrenching scenes, but every new incident somehow managed to revive things afresh.  Those who claimed exposure to violence desensitized people ought to spend a Friday night in the emergency ward of the MaterJesu Hospital and see if their beliefs changed.  And while Kendra was grateful her job no longer compelled her into the operating room, she knew from experience that healing psychological scars sometimes required far more effort than the physical body’s ability to mend itself.

And faceless inhumanity was one thing – doing violence to a stranger – but to inflict harm in the name of LOVE – or *sex*?  Kendra shook her head and attempted to maintain the distance necessary to get the job done.

Pulse – normal.  Vital signs – all checked out.  Sedation would also take the edge off the woman’s injuries, too – what was her name?  ‘Kim Enderby’, Dr. Wilson noted on her chart.  A woman who appeared to be in her late 30’s or early 40’s, in decent shape; a few tattoos.  No scars or wounds apart from …

Lifting up the sky blue blanket covering the patient’s body as she lay naked in a semi-fetal position, the first thing to catch Kendra’s eye were the nipple rings and chain strung between them.  Attached to the chain and resting on the mattress below Kim’s breasts was a tiny, white gold – bug, it looked like – some sort of winged insect.  It appeared to have a bit of blood on it, too, but there were no visible punctures on Kim’s skin.  Kendra carefully picked it up and examined it.

Passing strange.

The bandages covering Kim’s pelvic area and derriere swaddled like a diaper.  Gently lifting the tape, Kendra removed the bandage from Kim’s right hip, letting it fall onto the bed.  And while Dr. Wilson was relieved to see that the burn wasn’t visible on the periphery, that meant …

Carefully curling Kim’s leg up toward her chest and spreading her cheeks, Kendra’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the increased redness leading to where the burn was most evident: directly between the anus and vagina.  Her own nether region began to twitch and burn at the very sight of the patient’s scarring, and Dr. Wilson’s hand moved to her own pelvis reflexively.

How could someone do this?  What was worse, why would the patient have submitted ot it voluntarily?

Time to focus, Kendra thought.  Despite the obvious advantages for her profession, there were times when being an empath caused more grief than pleasure, and Kendra couldn’t help imagining what the burns felt like herself.  Closing her eyes and shutting those feelings off, she called forth her muse.  Reciting a healing incantation, one of Kendra’s hands rested on the patient’s hip while the other stayed between her own legs.

“May the Divine Goddess transfer her powers through me in order that you may heal,” she chanted, moving deeper inside herself with every iteration.

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