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The superior sex  Part 1 of 2

The superior sex
Part 1 of 2

Rochelle and I had been married all three days, married on Friday afternoon and then spending Saturday and Sunday in Manhattan at The Plaza, eating at the best restaurants and seeing two outstanding Broadway shows in the evenings. I would have liked to take more time off for a proper honeymoon, but we had gotten married more quickly, her idea, than I had planned, and I had two surgeries planned that could not be postponed. Both were heart transplants, and neither patient could be expected to live more than a month without the life-saving procedures.

We had returned to my home in Sands Point, one of Nassau County’s more exclusive communities. By exclusive in Long Island, I mean expensive. My home cost somewhat more than a million dollars, which I think was average for the community. Most of my neighbors with children send their kids to the Great Neck public schools, reputedly as good as or better than the most exclusive private school and probably just as expensive, judging from my property taxes.

I had carried our suitcases into the bedroom and was surprised when Rochelle told me that she would relax in the living room and I would mind unpacking her bag. I admit to being a bit surprised, but I recall thinking that perhaps her stomach was acting up or she was getting her period. Either way, it wasn’t that big a deal, so I did it willingly, joining her about half an hour later.

I was about to join her on the couch when she told me she needed to speak with me, although her actual words were “speak to me.” I understood why a few minutes later when she told me to sit on the floor between her legs.

“Living here with you these past five months has been a real learning experience for me, Michael. Do you recall about five weeks ago when school was closed because of a big snowstorm? You had to go to the hospital, but I was here all day alone.” I thought for a moment before I did remember. I tend to push little things out of my head because I have so many important things to think of, like the tiniest details of surgery.

Contrary to popular opinion, no two surgeries are alike because no two patients are alike. Similar, maybe, but never identical. Those minor differences can significantly affect how the actual surgery is conducted.

“I was bored, so I sat at your computer and went online. My goodness, the things I found there in your history. You really should have cleaned it out once in a while. Site after site dealt with subjects like female domination, male slavery, cuckolding, and chastity. At first, I was repulsed by the thought of you being involved in those activities, so I phoned Arianne. You know that she is my best friend. We talked about my discoveries for over an hour and decided to meet at her house on Saturday morning for more discussion. We both did a lot of research on those subjects during the week.

We both came up with the same conclusion that I could make this work to my benefit.”

I sat silently, interested in where she thought she would take it. I looked down, not because I was ashamed or embarrassed, but because I didn’t want her to see the expressions on my face. I’ve been told I am the world’s worst poker player because my face shows my emotions too clearly. That’s also the reason why I never lie. I know I can’t pull it off.

“Anyway, Michael, I decided to go with the flow. It’s evident that you feel women are the superior sex, and I agree with that concept. It’s also clear that you believe that you are inferior to women, especially me. That’s why our marriage and relationship will turn in a specific direction, which is my direction. You are going to realize your dreams of total submission. I am taking over, and you will do precisely as you are told. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m sure I will have to, especially while I am training you in your new role as my slave.

“I have enjoyed making love with you, but that’s going to be strictly rationed from now on. You expressed an interest in virtue, which you will get. You go to bed early, and you sleep soundly, so I have been able to measure your penis several times for a custom cock cage that I will put on you in a little while. I’m sure you’ll find it quite tight and impossible to get an erection without feeling a lot of pain. It will be the perfect way to ensure your complete submission to my will. You will have to learn to satisfy me with your tongue on those evenings I’m not out with my lover.” Now, I was glad I was looking down. Had I been looking up at Rochelle, she would undoubtedly have seen my expressions of shock and disgust.

“We just got married, Rochelle, and now you want someone else.”

She laughed. “I’ve always wanted someone else. I’ve been cheating on you throughout our entire relationship. I tried to hide it, but that’s no longer necessary. You’ve been my cuckold, a role you’ll come to love in the future. Initially, you’ll help to prepare me for my dates with Jonathan.”

“Your principal? You mean you’ve been fucking your principal all this time? Isn’t he married?”

“Yes, and yes, he and I have been “fucking” as you so bluntly put it, for almost a year. We used to do it in his office after everyone else was gone. He was doing me in the nurse’s office all those evening meetings I had to attend. Now you know that you’ve been my cuckold all that time, but from now on, you’ll have an active role as my cuckold. I’ll expect you to eat me out after my dates with Jonathan, and once you’ve cleaned my puss out thoroughly, you’ll be required to eat me to a few more orgasms. I won’t forget about your needs, but they won’t be addressed very often, maybe once every two or three weeks, but only if you are completely obedient. If you’re not, well…use your imagination.

“Oh, yeah, there will be a few rules for you while you are at home. No clothes, even outside. Our lawn is shielded from the neighbors by row after row of pine trees so that you won’t be seen. Even though we have a housekeeper, you’ll assist her with more evil tasks like cleaning the toilets. Don’t worry. I won’t take any chances of damaging your hands. I’m not about to cripple my meal ticket. That’s the main reason why I married you. You can start by getting naked right now. Take off your clothes and pile them neatly under the table.”

So far, I had found this “conversation” extremely enlightening, so I stood, removed my shirt, opened my belt, and dropped my slacks to the floor, my boxers following only a few seconds later. I’m usually extremely neat in my habits, so I folded my slacks and placed them on top of my loafers with my belt and phone. I finished by placing my socks into my shoes, and then I stood naked before the woman I had sworn to love for better or worse just three days ago.

“Step closer, Michael.” She dug through her purse, pulling a lipstick from the bag. Opening the case, she pulled me closer by my cock, which should have told her of my feelings. I was as lax as I’ve ever been. She drew a line horizontally about two inches below my navel and two more, one on each thigh about six inches below my crotch. “Go into the bathroom and shower. While you’re in there, I want you to shave everything between these lines, front and back. Come back here when you are done, and I’ll attach your cock cage to your body. Your chastity begins now, and don’t get any ideas of rubbing a quick one off in the shower. I plan on paddling you when you get back, and it’ll be a lot worse if I find your balls empty. Now go, and I expect you to hurry.”

“Shall I take my clothes and put them away, Ma’am.”

“Yes, and it’s a good thing that you were respectful. I will punish you from now on if you forget.” I grabbed my clothes and shoes from the floor and trotted toward the bedroom.

I was swamped for almost an hour, but when I was done, I was more than satisfied with my efforts. I strolled casually back to my bride. “What the fuck? Why are you dressed? Oh, you are going to get it, and good.”

“I don’t think so, Rochelle. You really should have discussed what you found on the computer with me instead of that idiotic slut, Arianne. How many times has she been divorced? I can never remember. Is it two or three? She’s hardly a responsible resource for relationship advice. Had you mentioned what you found, I would have explained why I read those stories. The best fiction closely mimics real life, so I know that there are real men, if I can even call them that, who live as slaves to their wives and are their cuckolds. I could not believe that any man could be so weak and so pathetic as to accept that from someone who is supposed to be their loving spouse. I find that kind of man disgusting and repulsive, and I would never consider that kind of life for myself.

“You didn’t notice my new phone on my belt, did you? I played around with it in the bedroom after unpacking the bags. I was trying out the recording feature. The first part of your rant is on video; the rest, after I removed my clothes, is just the audio, but you came through loud and clear. I’ve already sent that to my attorney, Rob Snyder, who advises that I have excellent grounds for annulment. If I divorced you, I’d have to split everything we own 50-50, but under an annulment, I’d owe you nothing. All of your clothes and personal property are in your car. I must admit that I wasn’t too careful since I rushed to be rid of you. I suggest you leave now, and Rob will be in touch. He also plans to contact the Board of Education. He’s sure they’ll be interested in your relationship with your principal.
Don’t be at all surprised if both of you are fired. I may even sue the school district. Rob tells me that they have stringent policies about sexual relationships between a supervisor and a staff member.

“But before you go.” I picked up her purse and pulled her wallet and keys from its gaping maw. I had never seen any woman carry so much in such a huge purse. I removed her credit cards and her keys to the house. The cards were on my accounts, so I had every right to use them. “I have already removed your garage door remote, Rochelle. Maybe you can stay with Arianne. You’ll be perfect roommates. “You’re both idiotic losers.
Now go and don’t come back.” I helped the shocked woman--the one I had hoped would be my partner through life--and led her to the garage. I opened the door for her and helped her into the car. She had driven the same beat-up old Honda Civic since we met more than two years ago. I had planned on buying her a new Lexus convertible as a wedding gift, but not now or ever.

I stood silently as she slowly backed out of the garage and drove away. Now would come the tricky part: notifying my mother and sister. They had both loved Rochelle, but, like me, they had never really known her. After closing the garage door, I walked back into the kitchen, where I pulled a Corona from the refrigerator and reached for the phone.

There wasn’t enough beer to help me through the next half hour. Yet it had to be done; nothing could be gained by waiting. I would have liked to get roaring drunk, but I had two patients’ lives on my hands over the next three days. My sorrow and my tears would have to wait.

I always go to bed early, by 9:00. Why? I also have to get up early—at 4:30- for my drive to Long Island Jewish Hospital in nearby Forest Hills, Queens. It’s a relatively easy commute, especially at 5:00 in the morning. I always stop at the same deli in Forest Hills because they make a big cup of fresh orange juice and a buttered roll for me every morning. I’ve known the owner, Jacob, for more than ten years.

A word about LIJ, as the hospital is often known: One does not have to be Jewish to work there or to be treated. I was raised as a Catholic, and although there are several Jewish physicians on staff, the same can be said for virtually every hospital in the New York City metro area.

Heart replacement surgery takes a long time, starting with connecting the patient to the heart-lung machine, so I always start at 6:00 a.m. I’m well-rested and never drink coffee, affecting my hand-eye coordination. I’m 39 now, and I’ve been doing this surgery for more than ten years. I stopped drinking coffee while in medical school when I saw my hand shaking from the caffeine. I still remember the day I made that decision. Later that morning, once the caffeine passed from my body, my hand was as steady as a rock. Like most caffeine junkies, I went through withdrawal, but I never drank a drop again.

I was in the prep room scrubbing down, having already changed from what I usually called my “civilian clothes” into my scrubs and what I laughingly called my “do-rag.” Most surgeons wear some cap to keep stray hairs away from an incision. That was also why I am always clean-shaven. There was a new nurse on the team this morning. I usually liked to work with the same nurses because we were like a team in football or basketball. The more we practiced together, the better we became.

I was about to speak with her when my “Number 2,” Dan Morrison, joined me at the sink. We washed and scrubbed our hands and fingernails just the way we had when we were classmates in medical school at Johns Hopkins. I always knew I could depend on Dan to keep the mood light before surgery and be competent and professional. “So, Mike, how’s married life treating you?”

“Not well, Dan; I’m getting an annulment. We returned to the house yesterday afternoon, and she pulled some shit about making me her chastised enslaved person, complete with a tight stainless steel cock cage. She found some stuff I was reading online and drew the wrong conclusions. Rather than talk it over with me, she went to her friend Arianne.”

“Isn’t that the one you’ve always said was a big slut?”

“Yeah, she’s been divorced at least twice, and both times it was because she was cheating. Even better, Rochelle told me that she’s been fucking her principal for close to a year.”

“Too bad you don’t have a recording of that.” Dan stopped then and looked at the big grin on my face. “Oh, dear God, you do have it recorded. No wonder you’re considering annulment.”

“I’m not considering, Dan. I phoned my attorney, Rob Snyder, yesterday afternoon and sent the recording part of the video, and he told me he’d start on it this morning. I kicked her out and suggested she stay with her slut buddy.”

“Too bad, Mike, I liked Rochelle. Nice body, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss that, but like the saying goes—what’s on the inside counts. Know anything about the new nurse?”

“Only what I’ve been told is Mannheim had her last week, and she told me she was sharp. She was able to anticipate almost everything he did. It was only a hip replacement, but still, that’s pretty good.”

“I’m going to miss Nan, hopefully not too much. Too bad her husband got transferred. Okay, enough; let’s get the show on the road.” I finished my hands at almost the same time Dan finished his. We dried using sanitary towels and let the nurses pull the tunics over our hands.
Marcie, my head nurse, checked the cap on my head, pulling it tightly down. We gloved up, and I backed through the door to the operating room.

Marv Cohen was already there talking to the patient and keeping him calm even as he prepped the anesthesia. I walked over to the patient and asked,

“How are you this morning, Mr. Jameson? Ready to get your new heart?”

“I’m kinda nervous.”

“That’s understandable, but you can relax. We have a great team here for you. I know Dr. Cohen will keep you in tip-top condition forever.”

“Any idea how long it will take?”

“Typically, about eight hours, but I had a great night’s sleep, and I do this at least twice a month, although I have another scheduled for Wednesday. It’s going to be a busy week. Okay, Marv.” I stepped back to allow Marv to render our patient unconscious, which allowed me to speak to my new nurse.

“Mary Catharine, I believe.”

“Yes, Doctor Bellamy, it’s a real honor to be able to assist you.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us. I’ve only heard good things about you. You’ll be replacing Nan. Stay to my left and keep the tray of instruments on your other side. Beth will give you replacements as soon as you give one to me. That’s how we’ve always worked, and that’s how we’ve always been successful. Beth will also wipe my brow if necessary. Sarah, Jane, and Dr. Morrison will be on the patient’s other side.”

Then, I went into what I always called my surgeon mode. There was only me and the patient. Our non-sterile assistant put the CD of Swan Lake on the player, and we began by opening the chest, tying off the arteries and veins, and connecting them to the heart-lung machine. That took over an hour, although the changeover was done in seconds. The team worked well, and Mary Catharine fit in well. Dan was right—she had a good sense of anticipation. She had the proper implement ready for me before I called for it. Only three times had I corrected her. The procedure went exactly as I had hoped. I changed into a new, clean set of scrubs and went to do my favorite part of this job: notifying the family.

I had a big smile when I entered the waiting room. Not only was Mrs. Jameson there, but both daughters, their husbands, and their parish priest whom I had known for many years. Mrs. Jameson cried tears of joy when I gave her the news. “It was a complete success. The procedure went exactly as planned. His heart showed signs of extensive damage, and the arteries were almost completely blocked, which means that he was only a few weeks at most from another major infarction, which in his condition would almost certainly have killed him. His new heart is completely healthy, and the cardiac arteries are clear. He’ll have a long period of recovery, but if he follows Dr. Wenz’s treatment plan, he’ll be fine for many years. Just don’t allow him to smoke not even a single cigarette.”

“I won’t, and God bless you, Dr. Bellamy.” She hugged me then, as did each of her daughters. Finally, I turned to the priest.

“Good afternoon, Monsignor; long time no see.”

“Yes, too many weeks since I last saw you. Did I read in the newspaper that you were married last Friday?”

“Yes, you did. Come to my office when you’re done, and I’ll tell you about it. I shook hands with Msgr. Feigan and left. I was tired. The truth was that the surgery had been one emergency after another. We had a problem with the heart-lung machine and had to switch to the backup. Then, in the end, we had trouble getting the new heart started. I’d had to shock it three times before we had a regular sinus rhythm. It was an emotionally draining day.

I typically performed cardiac surgery two or three times a week. More than that, it became too draining, both physically and emotionally. My fee for a surgery like the one I performed today would be billed at $80,000, but Medicare would chop it down to about $40,000, so a typical week would earn me about eighty to a hundred thousand dollars. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all profit. I had my share of the rent on our offices and salaries for the staff. I had three partners besides Dan, and then, of course, was malpractice insurance. For a cardiac surgeon, that bill came to more than three hundred thousand dollars a year.

I had been sued twice, but I had won both of those cases. In one, the jury found the plaintiff, but the decision was thrown out by the judge, who agreed with my attorney that what I had done was strictly professional and competent. Sometimes, people die, although we always use the term “expire.” It is regrettable, but sometimes there are other unforeseen complications. Just last week, I opened the patient’s chest only to close it immediately. He had severe lung cancer, Stage IV, in my opinion, and protocol demanded that the heart go to another patient. Telling his family had been hard. I always found those discussions heart-wrenching.

I had been in the office the hospital provided for me about half an hour when Msgr. Feigan walked in. I first came to know him when I was a mere child. My parents had a bungalow in Shoreham on the North Shore of Long Island in 1948. The closest Catholic Church at the time was about ten miles away in the Wading River, but a chapel was only used for Mass at ten o’clock on Sunday mornings.
Father Feigan started saying Mass there when I was twelve. I liked him immediately. He was personable and the first priest who led us in singing hymns.

I watched his career advance as he was assigned to the Little Flower School in Wading River. Little Flower is a residential school for orphans.
The kids frequently come from troubled homes; alcoholism, drug abuse, and child abuse were everyday experiences for many of these kids. I had no experiences like these kids, but Msgr. Feigan did an excellent job explaining them in radio and TV messages. In my first year as a surgeon, I had donated $1,000 to the school, and every year since then, I’d given even more—enough that I was asked to join the Board of Directors.
I accepted eagerly, even though Wading River was almost fifty miles from home. I always scheduled my day so I could end early when there was a Board meeting.

Msgr. Feigan walked around the desk to hug me. “You’re looking well, Michael. I think married life agrees with you.”


To be continued
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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