Kinky in the ER

So when last I left you, dear readers, I had fallen down a very long flight of stairs while incurring relatively minor damage. Actually you can barely tell I fell except for the red splint/cast on my left index finger.

I did promise to share some kinky moments from our time in the ER, and I apologize I've been slow to get to that as well as to your comments. While the fall itself wasn't so bad, it's meant even more doctor's appointments (I had 3 last week and have 4 this week). Coupled with vertigo (that finally went away last Friday -- yay!), it's left me knackered. Plus, it's hard to type with a broken index finger.

At any rate, during the several hours they kept me in the ER for observation, A. and I tried to pass the time as best we could.

We considered snagging some of their purple nitrile (latex-free) gloves, but then I pointed out that I'd already absconded with a whole bunch of gloves from my clinic a few weeks back. "Very naughty," A. said. Indeed. And I'm hoping the punishment for said theft will require those gloves.

After the doctor put my finger in a splint, he handed us a large roll of medical tape and instructed me on how best to wrap my finger until I was able to consult with the hand surgeon sometime the following week. Upon seeing the sizable roll of medical tape, I immediately thought about a thread on the newsgroup many years ago about using medical tape to hold the cheeks open in order to administer discipline to one's bummy hole. After the doctor left, I promptly told A. about this other possible use, who seemed to agree that some medical tape experimentation would be in order.

The whole time, of course, I was hooked up to an oximeter which read my heart rate and displayed it on a large monitor. A. decided to have a bit of fun with it.

"Let's see what words make your heart rate go up," A. said. "I'm going to fuck your ass..."

82..84...85

"I'm going to open your cheeks and tape them back with medical tape... "

86...87...91

"...so I can plug your ass with ginger..."

91...92...93

"And spank you with a hairbrush."

88...83...82

"Ah so spanking isn't doing it for you," A. said

"Well, maybe the thought of spanking is relaxing for me," I offered.

"It shouldn't. I'm not doing it right if it does."

"I dunno." I shrugged. I didn't consciously feel less inclined to being spanked.

"Uh oh, your spanking mojo is critically low." A.'s voice became urgent. "Nurse -- get me 5 CCs of spanking mojo right away!...Then show me your knickers."

I always giggle when A. says knickers. I mean, how can you not? It's a funny word!

What ended up affecting my heart rate the most was talking to my mom on the phone. The almost perfectly identical waves on the heart monitor suddenly became erratic and my heart rate jumped up to the mid 90s. True, I was talking about the fall. But I do think it suggests that my mother may actually be hazardous to my health.

The next day when I had to go back to the ER to get another CT scan to make sure the vertigo wasn't from something more sinister, my mom drove us to the hospital and stayed with us. At first we thought about playing our little heart monitor game again, but quickly realized we'd have to do a more PG-rated version. Thankfully there was a television in the room to pass the time. And also thankfully my CT scan ended up being normal. So my mom stepped out while A. helped me get dressed (him dressing me made me feel very child-like, in a kinky sort of way), after which he managed to steal a few soft, playful swats on my bottom with me bent slightly over the gurney.

Despite what my heart rate did when A. suggested he was going to spank me, my spanking mojo has actually remained mostly intact. But as this post is long enough, I'll post about that tomorrow. Promise.