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Welcome to the Institute
Although Betty could not function without her VID treatments, she hated the Menken Institute with a passion.
Maybe it was because of the pain that she experienced there. Pain that would rend her from one end to another. Pain far worse, than that which she experienced during the birth of he two daughters 16 and 18 years ago. The memory of that pain always lingered, long after the swelling had abated, the bruises had faded and the cuts had healed. She never lost the memory of the pain.
Maybe it was going into the City that Betty hated. After all the City always rubbed in the failure she felt. In 1940 she was a successful fashion model. Natural blonde hair that took a curl just perfectly and cascaded down to her shoulders. Blue eyes that pierced the viewer through and through. Long slim legs that drew the eye up and up to hips with curves that started the male heart racing and filled the female heart with envy. And a narrow, narrow waist, unmarred by pregnancies. And finally, a set of breasts so perfectly shaped that they absolutely struck the viewer dumb. Twenty years old and at the peak of her form. Then she was swept off her feet and taken off to suburban Ossingsing by that tall dashing engineer just starting off in the ad business. She hated the city because it reminded her of her lost youth. At 40 she may have still been ravishing, but she knew what she looked like when she was 20. And 40 with two daughters is a far cry from 20. Her tits were still ravishing but Betty had to admit that they were just beginning to sag. She hated going into the City and being reminded of what it was like to be 20 once. Why couldn’t Mt. Sinai have a branch hospital out in the suburbs?
Maybe that wasn’t simply it. She hated Jews, as many of her class and era did. She remembered The WAR. After all she was 21 when America entered The WAR after the Nazi bombed Washington, dragging us into their European conflict. It was because of the Jews that we had to fight and bleed. So the Nazi killed 10 million of them while conquering Poland, France, England and most of Russia. Still we destroyed most of Europe in our victorious campaign over their German oppressors. With the Bomb we leveled Berlin, Hamburg, Munich, Frankfurt, Leipzig, Bonn and Dresden. Turned them into radioactive waste that would be uninhabitable for another 40 years or more. Before the Nazi finally gave up in 1948. Her girls were 6 and 4 when peace finally came and they remembered little of The WAR. And after The WAR came the conflict with the Soviets. What was left of Russia after the Nazi were finished with them. In 1950 we fought them as well and Donald was off in the service again. But led by the Jews and weakened as the Russians were, they were not much of a match for us. The Rosenbergs were executed by impalement in Times Square. I was there to witness it. I watched the naked Jewess squirm and wiggle with a stake shoved up her twat as she took two days to die. Before they could betray our atom bomb secrects to the Russians. A Bomb on Leningrad, a Bomb on Moscow, a Bomb rearranging the rubble of Stalingrad. And those Jew-led Bolsheviks were put in their place. But the Jews were paradoxically strong here in the United States. Despite restrictions they dominated the medical and legal professions. And maybe that is why she hated and despised them.
Maybe that wasn’t the real reason. Maybe it was Rachel. Donald was discrete about his indiscretions but Betty knew when he was fooling around. Wives knew these things instinctively. The institute was named after Rachel’s mother who killed herself while the middle of the post partum blues after Rachel’s birth. Officially the story was that she died in childbirth but Betty had come across the actual records while working as a hospital volunteer over a decade ago. Just like the Jews to cover things up. She kept the secret when Donald took on the Menken’s Dept. Store. Betty said nothing when Donald started seeing Rachel socially. She knew and she said nothing. She could taste the jewish pussy juice on Donald’s cock when she fellated him. She knew and was silent. Betty was tired of being the perfect Madonna.
They were always so friendly when she entered the Menken Institute. They greeted her so warmly and effusively. And Betty smiled back, flashing her famous smile. But she knew what they were thinking, ‘Rich goy back for another beating, hasn’t she had enough.’ A whole Institute founded on a lie and oozing denial. A nurse led her from the reception area with its pale walls of birch paneling and wall to wall beige carpeting, through the heavy oak door into the long white corridor with overhead recessed fluorescent lights and the white linoleum tile floor with white metal doors on either side evenly spaced about every dozen feet. The thin sparse hairs on her arms stood on end as she entered that corridor. They had gone no more than a few feet down the hall when the nurse accompanying her opened a door to a room on the right. Betty swore she heard a muffled scream coming from down the corridor. It was 7:00 AM.
THE MENKEN INSTITUTE FOR FEMALE PHYSICO-PSYCHOTHERAPY
Medical Record: Elizabeth “Betty” M. Draper
VOLUNTARY IATROGENIC DYSPARUNIA CLINIC
#51278-002, DOB 5/21/20
June 15th 1960 OPD Visit
Diagnosis: Chronic Severe Depression
Psychiatrist: Dr. Wayne; Gynecologist: Dr Putz
Temperature, 37o; Pulse, 70, regular; Resp. 22.
BP 128/70
OPD Note dictated on June 15th, 1960 at 8:30 by Dr. Putz
The patient is a well developed, well nourished adult female appearing her stated age, in a state of mild agitation. Physical examination was remarkable only for the following:
HEENT: WNL
Chest: clear to A & P, normal heart sounds sine murmurs or irregular rhythm. Breasts are minimally pendulous but have numerous lumps consistent with pervious multiple episodes of traumatic fat necrosis with some dimpling of the skin and half a dozen healed and healing linear scars, particular on the superior aspects. Nipples and areolae are scarred and show multiple suture defects.
Abdomen: Liver just palpable at the R costal margin. Normal bowel sounds without particular masses. AA can be palpated and has normal size and pulsations.
MS: Bilateral bunions.
Derm: numerous bruises of the buttocks and upper thighs in various stages of resolution and occasional linear scars in various stages of healing consistent with Brownian Therapy of Depression.
Pelvic: LMP two weeks ago, currently on OC therapy. External genitalia remarkable for enlarged, swollen and bruised clitoral hood and clitoris. Bruises of the labia majora in various stages of resolution. The labia minora and fourchette are parous consistent with several vaginal deliveries.and display numerous bruises in various states of resolution. Vaginal walls display occasional 4 to 6 mm round scars. Cervical os is parous. Bimanual exam, normal post partum, non menopausal uterus. Both ovaries palpable and WNL. Anus is slightly gaping and has one infarcted hemorrhoid. Anal sphincter tone is good. Rectum is empty.
PLAN. Pt seeks sixth course of VID and has signed release. PE reveals no contraindications. Regular flagellist is unavailable but has sent substitute. Considering that previous VID has been tolerated well and pt seeks repeat course, will up the strength of this treatment in hopes of even better therapeutic effect. Will monitor course of therapy at 15 minute intervals.
cc Dr Wayne
Same Old, Same Old Betty looked around the room and was not happy. The place gave her a feeling of familiar foreboding. Betty pretty much knew what was going to happen and although she wanted it, she really didn’t like it. She started to take off her clothes and put them into the locker. Actually it was an elegant small wooden closet but it still amounted to a locker. Put your purse on the shelf. Unzip your dress, down the back. Step out of it. Put it up on the hanger. Pull up your slip and lift it up over your shoulders and over your head. Loop the straps around the hanger. Now for the serious stuff. Unsnap the fasteners and wiggle out of the girdle. Fold it and put it on the shelf. It hurt pulling the girdle down over her bruised butt and things. It was bad enough having your behind beaten a couple of times a week but a tight girdle made it all that much worse. Unhook the bra and put it on the shelf. The soreness in her breasts were better now without the constriction of the bra. What fitted fine was no longer fine when your breasts were just recovering from a session with the riding crop. And last Friday in her Disciplinary Circle the girls must have sensed that Betty was going to have a VID this week. They were not very gentle. Lower the panties and add them to the pile. Look at the nurse and nod toward your nylons – you want these too. She nods back, so off come the heels and down and off come the hose. Pretty well buck naked. Goose bumps start forming, not so much from the cold, for the room is of course pleasant, but from the fear and embarrassment that comes with being naked in front of a stranger. An elemental, not entirely rational fear. Based on experience. Intensified when the nurse locks the door of the closet and give you the stupid joke of a gown to put on. Barely covers you pussy in the front. And open in the back, even when you finally manage to tie the cloth straps that close it. Sort of. Bruised buttocks and battered thighs, freed of the constrains of girdle and bare of panties wiggled and jiggled out there in the breeze.
And the exam table waiting for you in the back of the room. You know the table and all its accoutrements are for. It is for you to bend over and spread you cheeks as the nurse inserts the enema cannula. Which is big. Which is way bigger than it needs to be, way, way too big. And un-lubricated, or so it seems. Oh shit that hurts. God, the head of that thing must be two and a half inches in diameter.
“Yes, yes I know to bear down, couldn’t you use a little K-Y jelly on that. Oh yes I know you did, couldn’t you have used a little more. And do you really need to use a cannula bigger than my husband’s dick. Oh, I know everything is specified in the protocol.”
In great obscene phrases, you remember the protocol you just signed. Now the slow infusion of the soapy solution begins. The room is well supplied with reading material. Loose leaf binders with a record of every treatment line shelves just above the exam table. Heavy sheets of black paper with photos mounted and pages of medical jargon. A separate 3 ring binder for each patient labeled with their initials. Some are only a half inch wide. Some are three inches thick. Including ‘MS’, Mona Sterling, Don’s boss’ wife – Betty has been though those photos while bent over the table waiting for the bottle with the soap suds sitting on the top shelf to fill her bowel. Thin binders for Frances and Helen, women who are her friends and neighbors. They have only had a treatment or two. Betty always forgets to ask them how big an enema they get. Looking through their binders it is strange to see these women she knows naked. And naked with their heads covered with black hoods and their bodies covered with welts and wheals. Legs spread and genitals red from being beaten. Well not completely strange, just looking at the photos in a clinical setting. Betty had seen them live, stripped and whipped in her Disciplinary Circle. In fact she saw their naked butts on a fairly regular basis. And Betty had beaten them on more than one occasion. But not as shocking as some of the things she had seen in Mona’s folder. Pictures of a naked Mona next to her naked twenty year old daughter. Frontal views Mona’s breast covered with welts and blood running down from her torn nipples onto her belly. The pudenda of both mother and daughter laced with whip wheals. In that photo the two women were on adjacent tables with their legs spread. The blood running from Mona’s cut-to-ribbons inner labia was pooling on the white cloth covering her table. Betty’s pelvic muscles clenched at the thought of how it must have felt when Roger stuck it to that lacerated pussy.
And then the cramping starts as her colon reaches its limit. Oh shit Betty inwardly moans. The nurse comes into the room to check Betty’s progress, notes her reading another patient files and says nothing. She clamps the hose which will hold the soapy water in and leaves the room. Undoubtedly to make another patient miserable. Betty’s distended colon will have to churn for a while, sending waves of pain and nausea through her. “You know it makes no sense” she thinks. “I take my laxatives the night before like I’m told and I’m on the john all night shitting my guts out until there is nothing left. Yet in the morning, first thing, this enema nonsense. Clean me out more. Why?” She knows the answer the nurse will give, “Because it’s in the protocol”. Betty almost audibly remarks “Fuck the fucking protocol”. Inaudible because a lady like Betty would never let an obscenity like that past her lips. Not in front of a stranger.
The nurse returns finally turns the three way valve to evacuate. This releases the flood. The milky fluid flecked with specks of residual feces and strands of mucous sprays into a bucket between Betty’s legs. Nurse says, “The return is not yet clear enough, we will have to irrigate your colon once again.”. “OH SHIT” Betty thinks, “here we go again”. With evacuation Betty’s bowels are almost quiescent, for a while”. It isn’t too bad for a while. Until about two quarts flows in, then the cramping starts with a vengeance. When no more soapy water will flow in the nurse clamps the hose and leaves the room again. Now the cramping and pain gets really bad. And Betty’s anal ring is really starting to hurt. That cannula is a real bitch. It must be an inch and a half at the neck. There is a “roid” trapped in there, the hard rubber pinning it right against the stretched anal muscle. Boy does that smart. And Betty knows it will hurt even worse when it comes out.
The blond returns to looking though the photo folders of the other patients in an attempt to lead her mind away from her churning bowels. A file labeled “RM” draws her attention. A tall young woman with dark hair and features Betty regards as vaguely Semitic Could this be Rachel Menken? Reasonably full breasts, thoroughly beaten. A fairly broad, but not too broad, ass, stripped and torn by the cane. Could that be the pussy that her husband has plowed. Pretty thoroughly scored by either a whip or a thin cane. I wonder if Donald nibbled those lacerated inner vulvar lips. I wonder what it is like to eat a pussy that has been cut to shit. If it is indeed Rachel, more power to her. Betty thinks “I hope that she needs to get VID twice as often as I do. I hope that by the time she gets to forty her breasts are disfigured lumps of solid scar tissue.” And looking at the variety of pictures, it very well may be the Jewish bitch. The most recent pictures are in the front of each binder and the ‘RM’ binder is one of the thickest on the shelf. ‘RM’ gets noticeably younger as you get toward the back. Rachel couldn’t be older than 25 or 26 and the girl in the back of the binder could be no more than 15. Before Betty can think about it much more, the nurse enters and starts to evacuate Betty’s colon for the last time. Then comes the excruciating pain of extracting the head of the cannula from her rectum. The pain is such to cause Betty to see red and she gasps and chokes. That “roid” must be bleeding because the nurse is holding a piece of gauze to her asshole. “Is it torn?” Betty inquires. All the nurse says is “Its OK”.
Now from bending over the exam table, Betty gets to switch over to sitting on the table. This is not a good thing. “Ouch” she volunteers, the ‘roid’ is certainly riled up. She spreads her legs for the obligatory perineal shave. Even though her blond pubic and perianal hare is sparse and she shaves it regularly, Betty knows that the prep is mandatory. But why is it necessary to then go and “NARE” her as well. The sulfurly stench of the milky cream reaches her nostrils and Betty is reminded of how much she hates the depiliatory. Dr. Putz comes into the room, pokes her a couple of times, but his cold stethoscope on her chest, thumps her and fingers her pussy. Ouch! He really didn’t need to squeeze that swollen ‘roid’Then he grunts and goes. Well that will be billed for $200.00. On top of the $500.00 treatment. Greedy Jews. They have a corner on everything. Someday the anger will come out. And Betty will tell everybody what she thinks. Like she replied to Francine that one time, “Poison them all”. 8:57 AM.
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