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Fetish Complex

Swimming in unconsciousness, I relived every moment of my useless life: the somber childhood, the long periods of solitude and loneliness, the recurring rejection from jobs and people, and the two abortions. They all led me to this place of helplessness which forced my hand into this action. When I come up for air back into reality I feel cold, but I’m surrounded by something warm and wet. I’m beginning to accept the fate that I choreographed for myself. Each time I swam into my memories, I dove deeper and stayed longer. I felt my breaths growing shallower, and the pain in my wrists lessens more every minute. I don’t hurt anymore and I’m not lonely. One last view into life, and I’m looking at a stranger in a uniform. He’s saying something to me…asking me questions, but he sounds so far away. I’m not even going to try to answer him. I just want him to leave me in peace. I can feel myself being lifted. Then, everything went black but not dark; calm and quiet, but not lonely. I was in a valley of peace. I know how I got here, but I’m getting the distinct feeling that I won’t be able to stay for long. While I’m here, I will relax. Nothing can get to me here.

“…Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” a woman was praying for me.

Blinking a few times, I finally can open my eyes. The blurry hospital room is coming into view. My head feels like it weighs 100 pounds, and it’s hard for me to look around. I can see her. A nice-looking middle aged woman is crying into her clasped hands, and asking God to have mercy on my soul and bring me out of the darkness. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t be certain what our connection is.

“M-m,” I can’t talk with this tube in my throat.

I can moan and whimper. I hope she can feel me trying to will her to look at my face and get a nurse.

“Oh honey, thank God. You’re awake,” she said. “Nurse, come quick! Brandy’s up.”

The nurse entered the room shortly after the woman called out to her. She removed the feeding tube from my throat and began checking my vital signs. She took very detailed notes for the doctor who would be in to check on me later. Nurse Angela, at least that’s what her name tag read, was asking me an endless list of questions to which I didn’t know the answers.

“I wish I had time to study,” I laughed, but I was the only one who did.

“So, you really can’t remember your name or the president,” she asked looking extremely concerned. Nurse Angela’s sympathetic eyes forced me to accept the graveness of my situation. The blood I lost in my attempted suicide lulled me into a coma for a month. The nice lady who looked like she had been through hell was my mother. I felt a connection with her, but I didn’t recognize her.  She had been in my room since the night I arrived. While she slept, my nurse told me that she never left my side. Deena, my mother, brushed my hair, talked to me, moved my limbs for physical therapy, and of course prayed. Angela told me that I didn’t have any other visitors, but a very elaborate, expensive looking bouquet was personally delivered by a mysterious woman.

Dr. Yatamah entered my room the next morning like I was a pit stop for him, and he many more when he got me out of the way. He never looked at me; only down at my chart.

“Mrs. Tanger…suicidal…coma…amnesia,” he said. “We usually treat our suicidal patients for therapy and a psychological evaluation. You should see a therapist to aid in facilitating your memory returning. If your insurance doesn’t cover it, you should check the yellow pages for some local pro bono counselors in your area.”

He scribbled some notes onto my chart, and he was about to leave the room. He turned back to me.

“You’re free to leave when you are ready,” he said.

“Dr. Yatamah?” I stopped him before he walked through the door.

“Mrs. Tanger,” he replied.

“Do you treat all of your patients this way,” I asked him. Now he looked at me. “What I mean is, were you born a jerk, or did you learn that in medical school?”

He stood in my door way speechless. He looked at my mother and Nurse Angela for some support, or validation in what I was asking him. I didn’t let up on him at all, and I didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“I sincerely hope you don’t treat your other patients with the amount of callousness that you showed me today,” I said. “You read my chart and saw that a tried to commit suicide, have been in a coma, and don’t remember anything about myself; and you didn’t even look at me. Please don’t be an a****** to anybody else you treat today. They may not be as polite as I am.”

He didn’t move. I dismissed Dr. Yatamah with a condescending wave of my hand. He left in a huff, and Nurse Angela let out the laughter she suppressed while the doctor was still in my room.

“You are different, missy,” my mother was finally able to speak. “I never heard you swear or confront anybody in your whole life.”

“I seemed to have forgotten how passive I was before my failed suicide,” I said nonchalantly. “I’ll use this as a new beginning. I don’t want my memory back, because if I tried to kill myself, there must not be anything memorable to hold on to.”

Deena shook her head. I couldn’t tell whether she was disapproving or not, and honestly I was not concerned.

“I appreciate you staying with me while I needed you, Ms. Deena, but I’m awake now. I’m sure you have a life to get back to, and a month is a long time to be away from it,” I told her. I couldn’t bring myself to call her mom or mother. “Thank you so much for staying by my side.”

After half an hour or so of her trying to convince me that I needed her, Deena finally packed up her belongings. She left several telephone numbers and an email address for me to reach her if I needed help or remembered anything. She was so nice and extremely loving. I pondered the type of relationship we had before I lost my memory. Once I rooted myself and gained stability, we would have an opportunity to build a mother-daughter bond.

As I dressed to leave, the nurse gave me instructions on the outpatient therapy all attempted suicide patients had to attend. She gave me several pamphlets that contained information for support groups and telephone numbers for help lines. Nurse Angela told me that I didn’t have any address on record, and on the night I tried to take my life, I was found in the bathroom of a women’s shelter. After she covered all the bases, the staff booted me through the revolving door of uninsured health care.

I hit the streets and walked around the city trying to conjure up any memories I may have attached to landmarks. I didn’t feel anything. There were beautiful statues bronze statues all over. The buildings are beautiful and as long as a city block. I questioned whether or not I could read, or if I forgot how to read. I was so confused by street signs while I tried to learn my way around. When I asked for help from someone emerging from an apartment building, I realized I was in Europe. I laughed hysterically at myself thinking, I can read English. The signs were Italian. How did I get to Italy? And what the hell was I doing here?

I wandered the streets in Italy, unsure of what town or city, trying to pull thoughts from my former life. As the sun set I was no closer than I was when I left the hospital. I walked into a little chapel, and there was one woman kneeling at the altar in silent prayer. I quietly slid into the back pew and took in the beauty of the chapel. There was a crudely made pieta, and it was surrounded by hundreds of lit candles. Scenes of the bible were painted on the walls and ceilings; however, they weren’t the traditional scenes to which Americans are accustomed. These paintings showed the wrath of God, and the characters were in agony that shown on their faces and through their body language. I sat and thought for hours. I awoke with a start: I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep. The small old lady who was praying when I came in had left.  And money had been left on my lap. I looked around, but nobody was there. “Thank you,” I yelled. “Er, grazie.” I don’t know how I knew that word.

I washed up in the restroom before I left, and I was back on the streets. I stumbled upon a train station. I figured I may be able to figure out where I was or somewhere new to go. I was in Pordenone. It was a really small town in Northern Italy. There was a sign that had the times of arrivals and departures, and it had the prices to go to each city. The money I was given at the church was enough to get me to Venice, and the next departure was in thirty minutes. I took that as a sign and bought a ticket.

The ride to Venice was about an hour. The scenery was breathtaking. Having a second chance after feeling the life slipping from my body made appreciate the beauty in nature, and the smell of the man sitting across from me. He wasn’t fresh, but I felt blessed to be able to smell. As we eased into the City of Water I could see water for miles. It was green, which I thought was strange, but it glistened from the reflection of the sunlight. At the train station, there were vendors selling everything you could imagine. All races of people were lining the streets and the bridges that crisscrossed the canals. Venice was a busy and beautiful city: just the place for a new beginning. I walked up and down the alleys peeking into stores, and getting close up views of what everyone was selling.

I turned down one alley, and a woman rushed toward me.

“Brandy, oh my goodness,” she gushed. She had a thick Italian accent. “Benevento, Bella Siren.”

She hugged me. She was rattling off a hundred Italian words a minute, and I had no idea what she was saying. Apparently I knew this woman, but I didn’t remember her. She grabbed my hand and rushed me into an apartment building about two blocks away. It was beautiful. I couldn’t imagine I could have lived in a lavish place like this but was found in a women’s shelter.

She took me into a back office and called other women to join us. Three women all came in hugging me, asking what I needed, and if I were ok. While a tall brunette who everybody called Bella Grace brought me dinner, I explained to them what had happened to me and that I couldn’t remember anything or anybody. Bella Mystery, a short curvy woman with black hair covered her mouth and looked as though she were suppressing tears. I think we must have been close. A very sophisticated woman with red hair and a rail thin frame just shook her head. They all seemed so concerned for me. These nice women assured me that I could have one of the apartments. They also said I can take my time coming back to work.

“Wait, I worked, uh work here,” I asked. “What was my job?”

“Si,” Bella Mystery replied. “Don’t worry about that now. You rest, and we will get you back on your feet when you are ready.”

“Or on your back,” said Bella Danger, the red head. All three women giggled. I didn’t know what they meant, but I was destined to find out.

Over the next two weeks, the apartment complex owners fed and clothed me. They let me stay in a small unit on the first floor. I noticed the occupants usually never stayed for more than a week. It seemed more like a hotel to me. The three Belles got me up to speed on the Bella Siren, or Brandy, that I was before I tried to kill myself. They enlightened me on the inner workings of Fetish Complex, where I had been staying.

This place worked more like a time-share. Residents paid a hefty price to come enjoy their homes away from home; and each apartment was a specialty room dedicated to fulfilling their fetishes. Each apartment had a code on the door instead of numbers. And according to the fetish, every toy, book, or necessity to fulfill that fetish could be found inside, along with all the amenities of home.

Bella Mystery gave me a book that described many fetishes that I had never knew existed. I’m all for adults doing what made them happy, but damn! I couldn’t imagine what kind of person would enjoy someone vomiting on them. It’s called emetophilia. I wondered if the people close to an emetophiliac would know about the fetish or if they would keep it a secret. I continued studying the different types of fetishes, and I wondered how I played into it. Was I a maid, or did I keep the apartments supplied with toilet paper?

Bella Danger gave me another book that explained the remainder of my questions. Most of the residents to Fetish Complex were men. The few females who paid for apartments in this complex were intrigued by women as well. The beautiful women who were employed by the complex were tipped handsomely by residents who visited their oases unaccompanied. The Belles could choose which apartments she was willing to work with, what hours she was available, and how many residents she would accommodate. The freakiest fetishes paid the most. The three Belles assured me that each tenant had to sign a contract containing many clauses and agreements. They are forbidden from forcing a Bella into doing something she doesn’t feel comfortable, and if any injuries are incurred in participation of the fetish requested by a tenant, he or she has waived all rights to pursue a law suit. I didn‘t feel that was necessary since everyone who came there was a willing participant; however, most rules are created for a reason.

I had no records or recollection of a bank account, and I knew I couldn’t live off of my employers forever. I had to do something for money. I didn’t have anything to lose. I thought I could give this escort-style job a try. I felt free enough not to do something I didn’t feel comfortable; but, I would never know unless I tried. And the zeros on the tip amounts to fulfill a fetish were more than enticing to a woman with no memory or money: like myself.

 Bella Grace grabbed my face with her slender hands so that I looked directly into her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ready,” she asked. Her thick accent dripped with earnest concern.

“Si, Bella Grace, I’m sure,” I replied to her. I went through the book to decide which fetish I would like to try first. I figured I would start with the most conventional to get my feet wet…among other body parts. I gained a little weight since I left the hospital which gave me some voluptuousness. I was far from curvy, but I liked the way I filled out my clothes now. I learned a little Italian after hanging around the Belles so much. Bella Danger spent a lot of time explaining things to me, like making sexy look accidental, and how to be the boss even when I was playing the b****.

None of the other women who worked for the complex wanted to play in the Furry Fandom room. The Belles kept amazingly detailed books on when tenants came and left, which girls entertained them, the tenants’ preferences, and whether or not they were bringing companions. Mr. Johnston was wealthy, but he paid for the Furry Fandom apartment. He could never get a Bella to play with him so he usually paid for a street walker to play with him. The tip was five thousand dollars in addition to the standard salary. I dressed up in a cocker spaniel costume, complete with the big furry head. He couldn’t see my body at all. Mr. Johnston lay on his bed naked and propped up by pillows.

“Wiggle your tail, little naughty puppy,” he said.

I obeyed. I put my paw to my mouth to play along like I was doing something sexual. His penis grew each time I moved. I got down on all fours and crawled to him. I panted and yelped for his attention. He grew more excited. I petted him like he was the puppy. He giggled like a little boy. Lots of will power kept me from laughing aloud. I climbed on top of him.

“Oh, do you want doggy style,” he asked as he rose to his knees behind me.

I nodded yes.

There was no way for him to feel my skin, but he held my tail in one of his hands and pumped me hard. He was the alpha dog. He dry humped the ass of my costume and shouted commands.

“Bark if you like it, b****,” he said never breaking his stride.

“Ruff, ruff,” I cooperated.

We went on like this for about thirty minutes. When he yelled that he was coming I howled like a werewolf. He fell back and shot his unborn all over his own face. I rubbed my furry face against his in a loving manner, and I left his apartment wagging my tail all the way to the door.

Once I got back to my apartment, I took a long bath and reflected on what had just happened. I didn’t have to do anything but let him hump a costume, and I made five thousand dollars in less than an hour. I sipped on a glass of wine while I bathed to slow my heart rate. My love muscle that felt like it had never been used for that was pounding at the thought of the money I had just made. I was ready to go back in. So I finished my bath, and I went to the Belles’ office to report the happenings and collect my money.

“Bella Siren,” Bella Grace sang when she saw me enter the room. “Mr. Johnston called down a few minutes ago to praise the new girl who was more than he could have hoped for. He gave you a thousand dollar bonus. He also said he wants you exclusively when he visits if you are up to it. What did you do to him?”

With a sly grin that informed her that I would never tell and a wink, I quietly grabbed the incoming tenant’s book to find out if any of these sexual deviants were in need of assistance. I wouldn’t be able to satisfy Ms. Whiteman, because she was a teratophiliac. I was good, but I couldn’t pretend to be an amputee.

One room definitely sparked my interest. The “Spark” apartment which Frederick James was renting was where I planned on spending the night. He arrived around seven o’clock in the evening. I gave him time to shower and eat dinner. My presence was requested at ten, and I was knocking on his door at 9:59. I don’t know how punctual I was before, but punctuality was important to me now.

He opened the door wearing basketball shorts and no shirt. He carried himself like he was wealthy even though he was dressed casually. He was ebony toned, and the same dark chocolate color all over. His skin was perfect and smooth. He was well groomed and polite. He asked my name, and I told him he could call me Siren. He led me to the front hall closet. When he opened the door, I couldn’t hide my fear. I was impressed by how the Belles spared no expense in stocking each fetish apartment with state of the art equipment.

“Choose two,” he nodded toward the toys. “Pick what you want to use on me and what you want me to use on you. “

His voice was deep and commanded respect. I was not immune to it. I did as he instructed me. For myself I chose the electro rod with a clear globe on the end. For Mr. James, I chose the straight rod that resembled a flight line flashlight.

I walked over to the bed to undress. I sat on the edge of the bed with my legs slightly agape to show him my natural toy. Mr. James activated the electro rod that I chose for myself, and the erratic, purple bolts shooting through the clear globe ignited the electricity inside me. I didn’t know what to expect or what he planned on doing with that rod, but I was ready. My heartbeat quickened as he neared me. I tilted my head back to look him in the eyes. He leaned down to kiss me; so I closed my eyes, and our mouths met. I stuck my tongue out, and he did the same. When they touched, he put the rod a few centimeters our lips, and it sent a short zap between our lips. Instinctually my tongue jerked back into my mouth, and Mr. James laughed.

The shock was hot, but not unbearable. I tingled afterward. I was scared to feel it over the rest of my body, but it was a sexy fear that made me wetter He stood me up. Starting at my ankle, he rubbed his finger tips up my leg until he reached my thigh. Then he grabbed it and lifted my foot to brace my weight on the bed. He kissed my neck. He kissed one of my nipples.

“Relax, Siren,” Mr. James told me. “I promise you will enjoy all the pain you feel.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied sounding more cool than I really felt.

He dropped to his knees and salivated in my sweetness. Mr. James used the butt of the rod to spread my lips, and pulled my hood into his mouth firmly. He sucked hard and licked me erratically. I closed my eyes. That relaxed me enough for me to enjoy his mouth piece. I moaned for him, and then ZAP! He touched my lips with the shocking bulb. I almost came right. My body jerked due to the heat that shot out of that sex globe, and I yelped with pleasure. I lay on the bed on my back.

Mr. James followed my lead. I put my hands behind my head and spread my knees so he could have access to whichever body part he desired. I enjoyed being surprised by that shocking sensation, and he seemed to be experienced in the art of electric sex therapy. He spread some KY jelly all over my body. He pinched one of my nipples and shocked my upper thigh simultaneously. I jumped each time he touched me. Each time, I enjoyed it more. He shocked my p**** lips in quick spurts. He handed me the toy I chose for him. We kissed each other all over, pushed each other, and inflicted an excessive amount of pleasure and pain to each other.

At one point I was on my knees at the edge of the bed, and Mr. James used his fleshy rod to penetrate me. He f***** me hard, and I threw it back harder. We were yelling, skins were slapping, and we pounded each other a shocking sexual frenzy. As we reached our climaxes I reached my lightening rod between our legs and touched his love sack with it. The lightening shooting through his sack while he released into me caused him to jerk involuntarily and come loud…harder than I’ve ever seen. Watching him propelled me into my own unreachable heights of sexual elation. As he went limp, he fell to his knees behind me, while I stayed on mine.

He pushed is face into my gushiness from behind and ate me ravenously.

“Mmm, oh, Mr. James, you taste me so well,” I moaned. “Oh you are so…aaahh. OH S***!!”

As my orgasm approached, the orb shocked my pearl, and the rod I chose for him was zapping my stomach. I shook from my head to my toes. I came so hard that there was a basketball size puddle underneath me. My secretions dripped from Mr. James’ face and hands. He remained on his knees at the foot of the bed watching the sporadic tremors shoot through my body, the same way the purple lightening moved in the electro rod.

“Thank you for this shocking experience,” I said to him, purposely cheesy. We both laughed. He handed me my dress, and I assumed that was my cue to exit. My job was done.

I said good night to Mr. James, and then I went back to my own apartment. I repeated my ritual from the previous “date.” I sat in the tub and soaked my tired body. I had small burn marks on parts of my body that Mr. James had zapped. I didn’t mind the abrasions, because I had still had so little of my memory that I wanted to hold on to every experience for as long as possible.

I didn’t bother going to the desk for my money tonight. I was confident that the Belles wouldn’t let him stiff me. They were no nonsense when it came to money and the protection of the ladies. I went to bed a little sore, but content. I was sexually satisfied, and so was my new found affinity to try new things.

The next day I explored the beautiful city of Venice. I know the impression that Venice has on the world of people who have never been. It is enchanting and romantic. The water busses and gondolas create an atmosphere that is incomparable to any other place on earth. For its inhabitants: we all know the water smells, the vendors are pushy, and the pigeons are relentless. Those flying rats are not afraid of people, and they are impossible to shoo. You literally have to kick them.

I took the train back to Pordenone where I spent my first night out of the hospital. I found that little chapel where I slept, and I left a thousand dollars on the altar. I figured Karma would send my secret little helper to find it. Back in Venice, I did some shopping, I had my portrait sketched, and socialized with other residents of Fetish Complex. Eventually, as the night silently approached, I made it to the office to speak with the Belles. All three of them were ranting and rattling off Italian words, and I didn’t know what was going on. They were so excited, they couldn’t even translate. Apparently, Mr. James left a note with his tip describing me as the best Bella he’s ever experienced. He was so pleased that he also wanted me to be his exclusive Bella when he visited the Fetish Complex.

They were so excited that he was pleased. Bella Mystery gave me the run down. Mr. James had called ahead and requested a girl, the same way he had for years. The women were all too afraid of the electric room, no matter how much it paid. When Bella Mystery surprised him with my acceptance, he assumed that I wouldn’t be any good. He was so pleased with my willingness, and even more so by my embracing my fear for his pleasure that he made a generous donation to the complex and promised to tell all of his business associates about the place with Siren, the pleasure Goddess.

I smiled. I didn’t feel like I had a personal victory, but I do aim to please. I was happier by the thought of repaying the Belles for everything they did for me since I got out of the hospital. The ladies were so happy about pleasing Mr. James that I got the rest of the week off. I didn’t really want the time, because I didn’t have anything to do. I contacted Deena, I mean my mother, and we talked for a while. I know that no mother wants to know that her daughter has kinky sex for a living, so I was vague about how I was taking care of myself. I just wanted to ease her worry. The conversation was pleasant and heartwarming. I’m sure we were close before my suicide. It wasn’t “attempted,” because the weak part of me died.  I also spent time going over all of the complex books to line up my work for the rest of the month. I had my eye set on my next conquest.

Dr. Gustov Wunder, a prestigious psychologist who specialized in hypnosis and uncovering childhood trauma, was occupying his timeshare apartment. Whispers began immediately throughout the complex once the word got out that he was coming. None of the Belles were assigned to him yet which worked for me, because the blood fetish intrigued me.

Upon his arrival, the three Belles who had been taken care of me greeted Dr. Wunder less than enthusiastically. They instructed him to retire to his room, and they would send me up later. Those friendly women who took such good care of me acted extremely strange, but I just assumed that Dr. Wunder must be an extremely important resident. They insisted I join them for dinner. I wasn’t hungry due to my nerves, but they were too persistent to reject. I had dinner and a cocktail with them. They warned me that my client was a bit of a pompous jerk who thought the world of himself. They also told me that I shouldn’t eat or drink anything in his apartment, no matter how insistent he was. They told me to be steadfast and polite.

I didn’t fully understand the instructions, but I trusted them. When the time came, I knocked softly on the door. The good brain doctor took his sweet time letting me in. He wanted me to know from the beginning that he was in charge. I kept my cool. The Belles were right too. When I entered, he didn’t say anything. He circled me, examining my body and posture from top to bottom. He gave me he the impression that he was turned on by me, but he didn’t want me to know. After ten minutes of silence, he gestured for me to sit down.

“Does this scare you,” he asked through a thick Austrian accent. Dr. Wunder was referring to a huge, shiny, steel knife.

“A little,” I answered honestly.

He circled my chair, and the more he looked at me, the more familiar he felt to me. He stood next to my chair and pulled my ankle length dress up to my thigh. Then he drug the butcher’s knife across my leg just enough to pierce my skin. A thin line of blood trickled down my leg. I gasped, and Dr. Wunder grabbed me around my neck. He rubbed me sensually over my stomach and breasts. He kissed me, and then he dragged the knife up my naked back. I shivered. The pain was more than I bargained for, and his sexy wasn’t strong. He got off on hurting me, and that took some of the thrill away from this fetish for me.

Dr. Wunder disrobed. He stood looking at me, and I assumed he wanted me to do the same. I dropped my dress to the floor and awaited further instructions. He went into the kitchen to make himself a drink, and he made me one too. That made my heart race, and I have no idea why. While he was in the kitchen, I walked over to the window to see for what view he was paying top dollar. The moon was bright in the sky, and it showed Dr. Wunder’s reflection in it.  He slid something like a mouth guard between his lips and dropped a small pill into one of the drinks at the same time. It was against the rules for the tenants to offer the Belles drugs, let alone drug us unknowingly.

When he brought the drink to me, I politely decline, and he shoved the glass into my hand. I held the glass, and my temper, and Dr. A****** looked me over again. He ran his fingers over the scratches he made on body, and he stiffened.

“Do you have any other knives,” I asked.

“Dr.,” he corrected.

“Excuse me,” I replied.

“Do you have any other knives, Dr. is what you meant to say, right,” he asked.

“Oh…right,” I swallowed my anger again. “Do you have any other knives, Dr?”

He didn’t say another word. He sat his drink down on the coffee table, and walked into the bedroom. I switched the drinks and waited for him to return as nonchalantly as I could. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t stop shaking. I sat down in the chair to steady myself. When the doctor came from his bedroom, he grabbed his glass and sipped. I drank too. He ran another shiny knife over my shoulder. But this instrument was jagged, and cut me easily. Blood oozed from the cut dripping down my back and chest. Dr. Wunder seemed really excited at the sight of it. The bright red blood sharply contrasted with my pale skin tone. He slid his little head through it, and he used my blood as lubrication to stroke himself more fluidly. He chugged the rest of the laced drink that he intended for me, and quickly rounded my chair again. He leaned over my dry shoulder, and I learned that it wasn’t a mouth guard that he slid into his mouth.

“Aah, wow!” I yelled. He pierced my skin in two places with his fangs. He lingered over my shoulder rubbing his face in my exposed blood. Dr. Wunder began stroking himself more fervently. He didn’t seem interested in penetrating me, and I was relieved. He was making this difficult for me to enjoy.

When he finally released me from his mouth, he walked in front of the chair. The open mouth smile he wore smeared with blood jolted me into memories I thought were lost forever. The blood on his fangs and dripping down his face was the last thing I had seen before everything went dark on the night my life changed forever. I didn’t even feel the pain of the cuts anymore. I started shaking all over.

“Memory coming back to you, Brandy,” he asked. He staggered a bit, but didn’t lose an ounce of arrogance. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I got such pleasure from our session last time; I got carried away with the cutting. After I drugged you, I kept trying to find ways to climax. But nothing was working. So, I hypnotized you and convinced you that you had experienced things that you never have. I slit your wrists and rubbed your blood all over your body.”

I was stuck to my seat. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Here my mother thought I was a nut case, I was homeless, penniless and alone, just so this bastard could reach his max. This sick bastard used his demented mind tricks to steal a month of my life away from me.

He tried to continue, but whatever he spiked the cocktail with knocked him out. He fell to the floor with a loud thump. I grabbed my dress and ran to the door without bothering to wipe the dripping blood from my shaking body.

When I opened the door, the Belles were standing there holding some supplies. Bella Mystery grabbed me by my shoulders. She pushed me to the side of the doorway so the other ladies could enter the room. Some of them started cleaning, some of them were collecting all of Dr. Wunder’s belongings, and all of them were wearing gloves.

“Did your memory come back, sweetie,” Bella Mystery asked me. “Do you recognize us now?”

“Yes, Luiza, I remember everything,” I cried. “That quack made me believe all of those lies, he tried to kill me, and left me to die in a women’s shelter.” I was livid.

“Yes, he did,” she said. She yelled to the other ladies to move quicker. “We kept a record of who you saw before your incident, and suicide didn’t sound like you at all. So we did research, and we found likeness to this situation with one of his patients in his hometown in Austria. We learned what he did to you, and regrettably we used you as bait to get him here and make him pay. We didn’t know you would get your memory back, but I hope we can help you though.”

The ladies continued to erase any trace of Dr. Wunder ever coming to the apartment complex. Bella Mystery escorted me to my room. She told me to take a hot bath and stay in my room. They would bring me anything that I needed.

I didn’t come out of my room for a week. I spent time conversing with my mother. I told her about regaining my memory, but I thought the whole story would be too much for her after all I’d put her through. The Belles dealt with the police investigation. After a while, I got over everything that had happened. It took some time for me to process everything. I did go to some support group meetings to help my mind grasp the depths of my past.

Now, I sat on a bench outside the Fetish complex feeding tiny dried pieces of Dr. Wunder to the blood thirsty pigeons of Venice. We were almost completely finished disposing of his body. I loved the irony. And in spite of all he had done to me, I was able to move on with my life and keep working. I was surprised by how many men and women had fetishes for pregnant women. I don’t judge anyone for doing what makes them happy. It was my job to exploit it, and I would until my baby was born.

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