Chapter 2

By design, I have Sunny drink water and deny her substantial food... a light salad. She has consented to be modified. And in having spent many hours redesigning the grommet contraption and stealthily working in the lab’s metal shop, my enthusiasm grows. Plus there is Sunny, such ostensible innocence tinged with immoral thought. So girlishly innocent... yet so wicked.

“I want to see your loft,” I summarily announce in paying the check.

“We will need to the take the Lex to the BMT,” Sunny delighted to display her knowledge of New York’s subway system.

“A cab will do. I will pay.”

We depart. As I follow her to the exit, Sunny does not see me reload my grommet device. There will be no changing of minds. Not hers... and certainly not mine.

“How do you handle pain?” I casually inquire while awaiting a cab.

She smiles, looking away in shyness.

“Pain is something created by the mind...and therefore something the mind needs to overcome.”

Among my weekend adventurers, those trusted few with whom I share my hobby, Sunny has a reputation for endurance. I have not ‘scened’ with her, but she has been known to withstand lengthy floggings at the all too public S&M clubs, places that I avoid.

I contemplate her succinct reply... flippant reply?.. as a cab pulls up and a couple exits to enter the restaurant. We commandeer and Sunny slides in behind the driver. She offers the address, Ludlow Street, a part of Manhattan I have never before reconnoitered.

“I will go slowly with you, Sunny. But I reiterate, there will be no going back. I’m not really sure how this can be reversed. You saw the napkin. My contraption is frightfully efficient. Rather reminds me of firing a gun, such devastating results from the simple pull of a trigger.”

Sunny nods in thought. There is no hint of reservation. It appears that she is indeed thinking of the napkin and the relative permanence of the embedded circle of nickel cobalt. To remove it one would need to shred the cloth.

“It is quick, this ‘gun’ of yours?”

“You saw how quick.”

“I prefer something slower. Something that challenges me... suffering that I must overcome... if I can.”

“That will come as well. You shall endure both.”

In turning onto First Avenue, the cab picks up pace. I note that the driver cannot see Sunny in the rear view mirror. And in approaching wave after wave of traffic lights, he only has opportunity to glance back on occasion. I remove my contraption and again show it to Sunny.

“Quick. Painful. Permanent. And I shall enjoy using it on you, Sunny. Probably as effective as a brand or tattoo.”

She shudders. Yes the brisance of the masochist. The delightful mental conflict which the curious proclivity brings.

“Will I bleed?”

“About as much as you would in receiving a hypodermic injection. The device creates an initial pinprick which I have designed to instantly widen to accommodate the circle of metal... which with equal quickness folds at the perimeter to form the smooth opening you examined... and make it unremovable.”

“Where?”

“Any place I decide. That is for me to control... not you.”

She nods. There is fear... but there is enjoyment. Her eyes glaze in thought.

“Ready to begin your journey, Sunny?”

She nods. There is reluctance but acceptance... the masochist long ago having surrendered herself to life as a pin cushion.

I lean. My left hand reaches to the back of her neck. I note that my curiosity is indulged in that I can indeed grasp enough hair to guide her head. In one smooth and continuous motion I tilt back her head, my right hand lifts the contraption.

“Steady now, Sunny. Bear a little pain for me. Be a good girl for Dr. Samuels.”

As I slip the prongs up her nostrils, I am reminded of my years as an intern, offering the myriad of injections to frightened children. I press, pulling the trigger on my peculiar gun. It clicks. It snaps. There comes the stifled shriek of a little girl. I quickly withdraw. A handkerchief is offered. There are more tears than blood. As described the opening is small. Plus I have pierced the cartilage of her septum well up her nostrils where there is limited circulation.

I have grommeted the interior of Sunny’s nose. Not detectable to the unwary. But I cannot dismiss Sunny with a mere puncture... a little hole between her nostrils. No I have in my pocket a little clasp with a slim connecting cord. And as she dabs away her tears... not a word of protest I note... my hand returns to thrust the open clasp up her left nostril, thread it through her new grommet and hook it down her right nostril where it clicks shut.

“Feel better Sunny? A girl like you pines for control. And you shall have it.”

A little tug on the cord demonstrates. The tension cannot be resisted. That pretty little head moves about in response as I toy. And Sunny stares into my eyes in wonderment. Yes, sometimes the role of the sadist is fulfilled by saying ‘no’. But other times it is more fun to offer an emphatic ‘Yes’.

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