Story - Last Story

Last Story By Paragirl

She was an up and coming ballerina when I met her - that fact alone made me feel a loathing towards her that her cheerful disposition and stunningly beautiful face did nothing to diminish. She showed up at the bar with a few friends, and I immediately took her for a straight girl hanging with some of her 'Dyke' friends in an openly lesbian bar to feel more 'edgy' about herself, which is why I was so shocked by the fact that, once her friends headed out, she not only stuck around, she moved over to where I was sitting and started openly flirting with me.

Now, I'm not ugly - in fact, I've always felt I was pretty sexy, in my own way - but it was still surprising that she walked over to talk to me. My hips aren't movie star slim, I have a womanly shape, it's true, and I wear AFO braces on both legs and walk with a cane due to MS, but I considered those my 'filter' - if a person doesn't want to talk with me because of the braces, I don't want to know them anyway... and this very attractive, though overly cheerful woman was getting into some heavy flirting with me, to the point where even though it was obvious we would never have a thing in common, taking her back to my place started to sound pretty good. A whisper in my ear that she liked my eyes, all the while looking at my breasts, clinched the deal, and we drove back to my place to see what would happen next.

What happened next was somewhat unexpected, as even though I never really indicated any actual affection towards her, my darling ballerina, Monica, fell madly in love with me. Maybe it was because I was distant, maybe it was because the entire relationship, at least on my side, was based totally on sex, and sometimes degrading sex at that. Maybe it was one of a hundred things, but Monica, my darling Monica, was truly and deeply in love with me, and each day, I cared for her less and less. The issue for me, unfortunately, became the sex. Monica could do things with her tongue, with her fingers, that I had never felt before, that I had never experienced before. She could make me cum with barely more than a wink, it seemed, and she knew it - she held this power over me so that no matter how annoyed or bored I was with the relationship, the sex prevented me from just walking away, and no matter how badly I treated Monica, she just loved me and wanted to be with me more and more. I needed to figure out what to do, because it was driving me crazy....

I had my first idea out shopping with Monica - she tried on a pair of dark sunglasses that looked absolutely stunning on her, but then put them down, saying they were too dark, she didn't like lenses that dark color. I bought them without her looking and slipped them in my purse, the beginnings of an idea forming. A terrible, frightening idea, to be sure, and one I was certain I would never actually go through with... until I found myself on eBay, looking for the other pieces to the puzzle, finding a piece here, a piece there, until one day, one rainy Friday night as I sat with Monica and watched some stupid movie she had brought over on DVD, I asked her if her eyes were alright, I said they looked red and puffy, like maybe an allergy thing, and I did it. I handed her a small vial of eye drops, which she gladly accepted, smiling at me and thanking me for being so good to her.

I was awakened the next morning in the exact way I expected to be - by Monica screaming. I knew, with the dosage of Tetraline in the eye drops, that nerve damage would be complete and irreversible after about 4 hours, so I gave them to her an hour before bed. As she slept, the chemical worked it's way into her eyes, and destroyed her optic nerves completely. They also, I realized once I sat with her and started trying to calm her down, turned her eyes a satisfying milky white, which was a great improvement over her much too perfect blue eyes. I had actually gone through with it, I blinded my girlfriend and lover permanently, and as I sat with her, stroking her hair and holding her trembling hands, I told her not only what I had done, but also why. I told her she was blind for the rest of her life, and that if she was good, if she behaved herself, I would take care of her, I would help her in her new condition, but if she didn't - I painted a picture of her trying to make her way in the world, sightless and alone, and she rather quickly agreed to stay.
I helped her dress, picking out mis-matching clothing to better accentuate her new condition, and then I handed her a slim white cane. She took it in her hand and touched it, curious what it might be. I could tell she was going to ask, but just before the words left her lips, she realized what it was, what it represented, and began to cry all over again. I told her to stop, to behave like a good little blind girl, and she immediately stopped crying, though there was still a whimper of resistance. She began waving the white cane around in front of her and walking forward tentatively, managing to bump into a number of items despite the white cane, and I watched her move along her way. I said she was doing a great job, and she looked back at me, or at least the sound of my voice, and even though her eyes were utterly blind, I could see the pride swell in her at my modest praise. I walked over to her and, without telling her what I was doing, I placed the fancy sunglasses on her face. she did not question it, just kept making her way around the house, exploring her new, sightless universe.

I was laying in bed when I heard Monica turn off the stereo in the living room and then heard the tap-tap-tap of her white cane as she made her way to the bedroom, and I watched her as she felt her way to the bed and began to undress. She removed her sunglasses last, and I stroked her cheek gently as she slid under the covers next to me. Our lovemaking had become electric - her hands read my body like Braille, slipping over my every inch as we caressed one another. Before long, she was between my thighs, and it was even more incredible than before. I came again and again, and as I came, as I watched my blind lover touching and caressing me, I had another idea, another terrible thought, another surprise for my Monica.

I was sitting in the bedroom several weeks later, in a soft chair, when Monica woke up. She tried to sit up and immediately knew there was something wrong, a new problem. I could see the panic in her movements as she threw the sheets off and began scrambling blindly to find her right leg. Her perfect, ballerinas leg. It was there, right where it should have been, but when her fingers found the soft flesh of her thigh, it barely registered, because it was totally numb, from her hip to her toes. I had swabbed her skin clean with a numbing agent as she slept, and slipped the needle into her thigh, using a strong paralytic to ensure her entire leg was useless. She barely stirred, and I watched the muscles in her toned dancers leg just go limp as the injection worked it's magic.

Monica sat up and began to explore her leg with her hands, pushing it, kneading it, pinching it, and soon realized the terrifying truth. She was running her hands blindly down her paralyzed leg, tears welling up in her sightless eyes, when she found the string tied to her toe. She followed it to the metal and leather brace I had positioned at the foot of the bed. I watched her pull it closer to her and run her hands over it, finding the heavy orthopedic shoe, the cold steel uprights, the soft leather straps. After about 20 minutes, and realizing she was probably alone, Monica figured out basically what she needed to do, and began clumsily positioning the leg brace on her now useless leg. It took her four tries to get it positioned right, but then she started to understand the full configuration and got the shoe and straps fastened adequately, so that her limp leg was locked straight. She then pushed her dead leg off the edge of the bed and followed with her good left leg, and carefully, cautiously made her way to a standing position. She slipped along the edge of the bed to the nightstand and picked up her white folding cane, flicking it out to open it. She then found the matching black shoe, to go with her heavy orthopedic brace shoe, and sat on the bed to slip it on. She stood up again and began tapping her way blindly to the closet, and the sight was breathtaking. Her leg encased in the steel and leather, her tapping with the white cane, feeling her way while dragging her useless leg behind her. Naked, except for panties and her ever-present sunglasses, of course.

I sat there, my fingers in my panties, masturbating while this poor crippled creature before me struggled with not only her blindness, but now a completely paralyzed leg. As she was dressing in a wonderfully mismatched skirt and blouse set, I must have moaned aloud, or made the chair creak, because she tapped her way over in my direction with her white cane and slowly lowered herself to the floor. She dragged herself toward the chair and then she found me, climbed up my legs as if they were rapunzel's hair, and before either of us said a word, she was at me, her tongue and fingers making music between my legs and in my very soul. I came as she slipped her delicate fingers into me - over and over again, feeling the waves of total ecstasy wash over and through me. By the time I regained my composure, she was already limping out of the room, tapping her white cane and smiling, dragging her useless, braced leg.

Over the next weeks, Monica became very adept at getting around with her crippled leg, even though totally blind she made her way around the house with a grace that was sometimes disturbing. One new feature was that her limp leg began to play a role in our lovemaking, and I think her limp, lifeless toes took on a most erotic quality to me, as well as Monica. And eventually, even though I did love watching her blind fingers manipulate the heavy brace as she put it on and took it off, I began to help her with it, enjoying the caresses and sensations of her atrophying leg. Eventually, I realized she was getting very familiar with the layout of the house, barely using her cane, and so one morning, instead of her leg brace and cane, when she reached over to her bedside area she found only a pair of forearm crutches. She got up without saying a word and tested her balance - her crippled leg dangled and flopped as she stood there, and I could feel myself getting wet as I watched. She then began to slowly crutch around the bedroom, cautiously placing her crutches before she swung her good leg. After several laps around the room, Monica dressed herself in a pair of short-shorts and a t-shirt, certainly for my benefit, and then put socks on her feet, and a tennis shoe on her good foot. She began crutching around the house, performing her usual routine, but definitely manipulating her leg in various ways for my own pleasure. Not long into the morning, there was another bout of amazing lovemaking, just wonderful, and we both came in unison several times, all playing with Monica's crippled foot and leg...

There was no screaming - that was the first surprise. Maybe she knew, maybe she suspected what might be coming next. The Teladril and Sulfatine in her wine the night before should have been un-detectable and slow-acting, but maybe there was some other sign, some other giveaway to let her know what was coming. I was sitting at the table drinking coffee when Monica made her way out to me, crawling blindly, feeling her way to me, dragging her now-paralyzed legs behind her. They looked totally dead - so limp and lovely. She was naked from the waist down, but she had put on a t-shirt before she made her way out to me. And she wore her sunglasses, of course. I walked over to her and, without saying a word, lifted her and seated her in the expensive lightweight wheelchair which was sitting near the table. I arranged her legs, and served breakfast, and she had her toast and drank her coffee, and then without even looking in my direction simply asked me if her legs looked OK. I smiled despite myself and told her they looked completely crippled, and asked her how she was going to manage maneuvering a wheelchair while blind. She shrugged, but I could see she had been asking herself that exact question. I supposed she finally decided she wouldn't bother, because she grabbed onto the table and slid out of the wheelchair, then dragged herself back to our bedroom, still feeling her way with her hands, groping blindly as her limp legs just kind of bounced behind her. It was probably the most erotic thing I had ever seen in my entire life, and as she got back to our bedroom I lifted her into bed and made love to her - no, in it's ferocity it was more like molesting her, really - for over an hour. I used her pussy in ways I had never really imagined before, used her legs and feet and toes to pleasure myself in ways I had barely even fantasized about, and she lay there, blind and, while not totally unaware, for she could hear the sounds and sense the movement, she had no idea what perversions I was visiting upon her now useless lower half. Finally, I lay back on the bed and commanded her to come to me and pleasure me - it was much more difficult for her now, for there was little room to maneuver her limp, numb legs as she made her way to me. As soon as she touched me, I came, and came again and again in a cascade of pleasure unlike I had ever experienced. Once done, I helped Monica get cleaned up and dressed, adding a bulky adult diaper to her wardrobe without her even realizing it. I brought her wheelchair into the bedroom, offering to push her in it, but she again refused and said she preferred to be able to make her way on her own, even if it meant crawling along the ground, dragging her crippled legs. Watching her crawl helplessly aroused me in ways I had never experienced before, so I didn't complain, I just let her drag herself around, feeling her way along. I suppose I should have almost expected what came next.
I woke up and the first thing I noticed was Monica's wheelchair near the bed. Well, it was never 'really' Monica's wheelchair, since in the three weeks since I had paralyzed her from her waist down she had never used it, and as far as I knew, it had been resigned to the hallway closet. The next thing I noticed in my still groggy state was that I felt different. It did not take me long to understand why, and I thought back to the tea Monica had made for us last night, before bed. I couldn't imagine how she could have found the Teladril and Sulfatine, but as I assessed my condition, I realized that I was, in fact, totally paralyzed from my nipples down. I seemed to have most, if not all of my arm and hand function, but below my chest there was nothing - no feeling, no voluntary movement, not even a nervous tick. I should have been angry, and I may have been for a moment, but overall I was more curious, and I suppose there was certainly a part of me which understood I deserved it.

It took me almost 20 minutes to transfer to my new wheelchair, and even then I was unsteady in it - the chair was designed for a low para, and I was nearly quadriplegic. I threw on a T-shirt and wheeled slowly into the living room, where Monica was listening to the stereo, smiling. I stroked her hair and gave her a kiss without a word, and wheeled myself into the kitchen, first to make a phone call, then to make a quick breakfast.

After breakfast, I wheeled back to the bedroom and pulled some clothes out of my drawers - a light skirt, cotton blouse, and thigh high stockings. I then called to Monica and transferred myself into bed. Monica crawled into the room a few minutes later, asking me what I would like from her - I told her I needed her help with dressing, and she seemed almost giddy hearing the request. I told her where the clothes was, as well as the adult diapers, and then guided her to my now useless legs. She followed my instructions perfectly, putting the diaper on me, then my skirt, then took each of my crippled legs and slipped the stockings on. Once done, I told her to put the wheelchair away in the closet, then to unlock the front door and go back to the couch. As she crawled away, taking care of her chores, I struggled to sit up in bed, manipulating my paralyzed lower half - more like two-thirds, I thought to myself, seeing my nearly unfeeling breasts bounce as I shifted my weight around.

I waited in bed for just over an hour until I heard the door. I called out that I was in the bedroom, and the delivery girl popped her head into my room, pushing a nice power wheelchair. She set it up, showed me how to use the charger and then helped me into it. She adjusted the seat and leg rests for me, and then adjusted the seat belt just below my unfeeling breasts. She gave me a brief instruction on how to maneuver the chair, and I thanked her. After she left, I headed out to the living room where Monica was still listening to music.

I positioned my wheelchair in front of her and lifted one of my crippled legs onto the couch next to her. She lifted it - it was so strange, so arousing watching this beautiful blind girl manipulate and caress my numb, limp leg. She began kissing and licking my foot, and I found myself growing more and more aroused every minute. I slipped my hand under my skirt, inside my diaper, and realized that I was totally, utterly numb - there was nothing, so feeling, no electricity, my sex had been reduced to numb, unfeeling flesh. I rubbed myself anyway, imagining the sensations which had until that day been so dear to me, and felt both and arousal and an accompanying frustration the likes of which I had never imagined. The more aroused I became, the more frustrating that my masturbation was so fruitless, and the more frustrated I became at my newly crippled state, the more it aroused me. I stroked my nipples and, though they did harden, poking through my light cotton shirt like pencil erasers, they were as numb as my legs, as lifeless as my diapered sex.
By this time, my skirt was bunched up around me and my diaper tossed aside, so I could at least watch my masturbatory attempts. I decided to grab Monica's lovely limp ballerina foot and began to rub myself with it. She was, of course, totally unaware. I rubbed and even began inserting her paralyzed toes into my pussy, and again the arousal and frustration built and built. I don't know if I was completely or even partially aware, I was so wrapped up in the cycles of arousal and frustration, but I must have flexed Monica's foot too far in some direction, because as I rubbed myself with her limp toes, her ankle snapped like a dry tree limb. As her bones broke, and her foot turned in such an unnatural angle in my hands, I felt it - felt the most intense, most incredible orgasm of my entire life. I screamed and cried and toppled form my wheelchair at the sheer insane pleasure of it. As I roused myself from the floor, it seemed as Monica had also cum in some fashion, though based on her own pleasure or mine, I was unsure. Her sunglasses had fallen off in the commotion, and she was fumbling blindly around the couch looking for them. I saw them on the floor and went to hand them off to her, but then looked at her blind, white eyes, and decided that she could do without the glasses for a while. I told her I couldn't find them, but I would order her more soon.

Monica began to crawl back to our bedroom, but her ankle was obviously severely broken - it was already swelling and dragged at an odd angle. Once in our room, I told her to sit still, and I took out one of my plastic AFO braces - I placed it on her foot, pulling her ankle as straight as I could, and I then wrapped it firmly with several layers of ACE bandage. The look was lovely, and I told her so. She, of course, replied that thanks to me, she would never really know that.
For the next several weeks, our bizarre crippled lovemaking was incredible, and after building each other up to heights of ecstasy we had never dreamed of before, just a stroke or caress of Monicas broken foot would send me off to orgasm, and her as well. Until one day, as I was rubbing myself with her useless toes, the spark just wasn't there any more, something was missing, and Monica felt it too. She positioned her useless leg for me, and I understood what she was expecting - as her knee snapped, or most likely shattered, we both came explosively, collapsing into one another's crippled arms and falling asleep entwined.

It had been over a month, and Monica was dragging herself into the kitchen, both her legs wrapped toes to crotch in fiberglass casts, wearing nothing but a small t-shirt and a bulky diaper, her white, blind eyes fixated in my direction, but obviously not 'looking' at anything. She was actually enjoying it, somehow - the abuse, the crippling, the sexual encounters, it all made her so sexy, so aroused. I sat in my power wheelchair, legs dead and hanging, and Monica made her way to me and began to kiss and suck my toes - she wanted to play again. I told her to suck my toes and lick my feet, all the things that made me so wet, so horny, and I watched her caressing and kissing my useless feet. What I didn't see, somehow didn't notice, was the syringe. I didn't feel it, naturally, and before I knew what was happening, I was unconscious.

I woke up in bed, very groggy, and Monica was beside me. I could see her casted legs under the thin blanket, and I rolled over to giver her a kiss - that was the first time I realized something was wrong. I remembered, suddenly - being in my wheelchair, Monica playing with my feet, me feeling dizzy... I looked down and saw the light satin sheets covering Monica's casted legs, but then looked at myself and saw them drop off abruptly, several inches below my hips. I pulled the blankets off and saw my legs - actually, my stumps - which ended only six inches below my crotch. Two perfectly round, smooth stumps, wrapped in thin bandages and covered in elastic stump stockings, poking out of my diaper. My legs were gone, amputated while I slept somehow. Still totally numb from my nipples down, there was no difference in actually sensation, obviously, but there was a remarkable difference in balance, and I instantly found that it was easier for me to move about the bed without having to drag my helpless legs - my stumps were much more manageable.

I surprised Monica by basically tackling her and beginning to kiss her all over, massage her breasts and arms and neck, all the places she could still feel. It took her a moment to gain her balance after my lusty attack, but she was on me in a moment, and I could see her hands groped immediately for my stumps, and she began to caress and fondle them. It didn't take long for her to rip my diaper off, and even though it was difficult for her to maneuver with her legs paralyzed and immobile in the casts, her head was soon tucked between my crippled stumps, her fingers pouring over my lower body, her tongue probing me and licking and caressing my nether regions. Somehow, despite her total blindness, Monica never once strayed to a spot on my body I could feel, which both frustrated and aroused me more and more and more. She played with my pussy, my ass, my stumps, my breasts, and I could feel none of it, not a single sensation. It was incredibly frustrating, and in that, it was again completely arousing, madly erotic, just watching her touching me, caressing me, using my crippled body in so many ways, until I came and came again, watching her molesting my numb stumps over and over again. She told me how beautiful I was like this, how sexy my stumps were, and I was going to ask her how a blind girl could possibly know that, but then I realized how - her hands were so sensitive, she could 'see' my every line and curve with her caresses, with her soft fingertips gliding over my skin. I told her I loved being beautiful to her, and that I wanted to be beautiful for her forever, so ensnared was I in lust, in desire, in the madness of our crippled bodies entwined....

Life was wonderful as an amputee, as I had a much easier time transferring and getting around without my dead legs to get in the way. Monica's casts came off after a month, and her legs were beautifully crippled, her feet useless beyond words, and the bones in one of her knees fused in some way so that her leg no longer flexed at all, it was held rigid to her ankle, and her ankle and crippled foot flopped and dangled as she moved. She still preferred to crawl on the floor, and she never did get another pair of sunglasses. Her milky eyes were always staring at nothing, and I found it sexy when she fumbled about blindly. The abuse did not stop, in fact it probably grew daily, but it was no longer physically breaking Monica, it was sexually and emotionally abusing her, telling her she was a useless cripple, using her legs and feet in all manner of sexual perversions, penetrating her sex, her ass with whatever implement I had nearby. And all the while, she adored me, she adored my stumps, my crippled pussy, my numb breasts. It was a twisted sort of existence that neither of us spoke about, but both of us needed.

Several months passed, and for some reason, which I'm sure I'll never truly understand, I took another step, though more severe in idea, it did not cripple Monica any further. I found that, for whatever reasons, her milky white eyes were beginning to disturb me, to vex me as she stared blindly into nothing as she chatted, or licked me, or felt her way through a Braille book. So one night, as we lay in bed and without warning, I removed both her eyes, right out of their sockets. I would say it was a mad impulse had I not been planning it for weeks, had I not purchased all that I needed to complete the fiendish task. Her empty sockets were soon replaced with perfect brown glass eyes which I inserted for her. she looked terrible with the bruising still around her sockets, but I told her how beautiful she looked anyway, and she smiled though her tears. She kept her eyes closed most of the time after that, of course, but every time I looked into her perfect brown eyes, I knew I was a monster. I knew I deserved anything that might happen to me, and I knew something else would come... I was right.

I awoke to a sharp pain in my left hand, and went to rub it. My eyes shot open as I realized that, for some reason, I couldn't... Monica was in bed with me, and there was a mirror, above it. I looked up and saw what she had done - my left arm was gone midway between my elbow and wrist, leaving a smooth round stump, and my right arm was completely gone, aside from the small nub of a stump which I was still able to wiggle a bit. I stared at myself - truly helpless now, I didn't even have hands any more, just a stump and a nub of a stump with which to experience the world. Then I stared at Monica, and saw something else - her legs were gone completely. She had nothing but short round nubs beneath her hips, and she looked amazing, so ravishingly beautiful. Monica didn't say a word, she just started touching my arm stumps, caressing them, kissing them. When I felt her warm lips against my right nub, I moaned in pleasure, and she begin kissing my breasts, my sex, my leg stumps, again building my frustration, and this time I couldn't even caress her, I didn't have hands, didn't have fingers with which to stroke her hair, play with her breasts, touch her new stumps. I realized that, with her having arms, she was now in a position of much more control, and I needed to make sure she knew who was still in charge. I mustered up as much strength as I could, and shifted myself using my long left stump until I could topple onto her. I forced her crippled stumps open and actually tore off her diaper with my long stump, and then told her exactly what I was going to do with it. I realized as I penetrated her with my arm stump it was exactly what she wanted, and she came over and over again, all the while I was unable to do anything to myself. Once Monica had regained herself, however, she began touching me, playing with me, my stumps, my body, and eventually I also came and came again, my crippled and maimed body a vessel for pleasures I never imagined, yet never wanted to give up....

Another four months went by, and I was woken by Karen, our aide, tapping me to get me up and ready for the day. I said thank you and she wrote out a few instructions for me. I was totally deaf by this point, another 'gift' from Monica while I slept one night. She sat there in her power wheelchair, my gift to her after an injection into her upper spine paralyzed her from her neck down. Our insane lovemaking had finally reached it's plateau, crippling us both so completely that we could barely even communicate any longer, we just sat in our wheelchairs and I stroked her face with my left stump when I could. Until one day, Karen brought us a new toy - her name was Jill, and she was a cheerleader who wanted to help the handicapped as 'community service'... and Karen knew where we kept the Teladril and Sulfatine, and the spare wheelchair in the hall closet...