Pass the Ketchup dear! - Sex Stories

Pass the Ketchup dear!

... left side too. He strained his neck and head, trying to get a glimpse of what was below his waist. He could see his penis, still erect and seemingly mocking him, he could see the toes of his right foot, but he couldn't see his left at all. He panicked, screaming as loud as the gag would allow, fighting against the rope that secured him. Seconds passed and Jim entered the room holding a bag. He reached in and removed a bloodied lump, "You looking for this pal?" he asked, waving the severed foot at Paul's horrified face. "We had to take it off!" Jim explained, "You would probably have lost it to infection anyway, and Bill wouldn’t have found it pleasant with that leg waving all over the place. It's distracting! "I hope you enjoyed Bill, by the way. He certainly did. Best birthday present he's had in ages he said! Can't wait for next year's surprise. Anyway, I think our Kate did a good job of your stump; quite neat considering! "Oh yeah! Seeing as you won't be needing this anymore, Kate is taking it to the hospital incinerator. It must be nice to have friends in low places that don't ask questions and don't bother looking in bin bags when they take out the trash. The rest of the leg we're saving for later." With that, Jim left the room and Paul strained to look at the remnants of his left leg. Paul awoke in excruciating pain, bucking and straining against his bonds. He heard Kate shout "Fuck! He's Awake!" and then spied Jim rising to his feet, holding a bloody hacksaw. "No you ...

... don't." Jim said calmly, placing his hands on Paul's shoulders and pushing him into the bed. Kate appeared next to Jim, she was holding a syringe which she pushed into Paul's neck and injected him with the contents. "That was close!" He heard Kate say as he spiralled into darkness. Paul dreamt that he was diving off an exotic reef, weightless in the water, floating towards coral of such exquisite colour that he was in awe of nature’s wondrous beauty. As he opened his eyes, his dreams were shattered, the all too familiar ceiling bearing down on him. The pink lampshade mocking him from above. He wanted to scream, shout and break the ropes holding him to this godforsaken bed. Then he remembered the saw, and the syringe. The drip stand still towered above him to the left. The saline bag that still providing his only nourishment, hung from it. The tube seemed to be hanging differently though. He couldn't feel the ever present cannula scratching in his arm. For that matter, he couldn't feel his arm either. Raising his head slightly, he looked from left to right. He could still see his penis, his erection had still not subsided. He looked towards his limbs, but he couldn't see them. Then, panic rising, he looked over to the dressing table. They weren't there. He could see a knife on the bedside table, tantalisingly out of reach. He thought to himself that if he could loosen the bonds from his wrist, he should be able to reach the knife; but he couldn't feel his wrist, or his arm. He ...