No, thank-you very much

An instrument resembling a shower cap covered with sensors was stretched over Rebecca's head and attached to the computer that would read and process her brain activity to tell the surgeon how much pain she was in, then she handed her robe to the nurse, got up on the operating table and surrendered her slippers, also. The nurse put them away and then strapped the young lady down, with her knees bent and legs spread wide, whilst the surgeon, to his patient's surprise, asked her to confirm she wasn't being **** to have the operation.

"If somebody is pressuring you, just say now and we'll pretend to find a medical reason why we can't go ahead today; nobody will ever know you backed out."

Rebecca found that hard to believe, so although she was being pressured a bit, by her parents, the university running the study and the nice Doctor Grey, she claimed it was her idea and she wanted to go ahead. In the back of her mind was the possibility (false, as it happened) that this was a test and she would be punished brutally if she tried to refuse.

Intubations normally happen when the subject is ****, for good reason, so it was as distressing as one might expect, but largely insignificant compared with what was to come. She barely even noticed when the anaesthetist fitted a cannula in the back of her hand.

The nurse sat on a wheeled stool and began applying a selection of vibrators, dildoes and fingers to bring Rebecca to climax over and over again. She'd gone on a course to learn the art of pleasuring an uncomfortable female in an uncomfortable environment, so despite the situation, she quickly had the ginger thrashing in ecstasy. Rebecca was not multi-orgasmic and after the first, the stimulation became increasingly painful rather than pleasurable, but Nuala **** the helpless girl to six more before the computer said she had reached the maximal level of sensitivity.

The men present discussed their golf swings out of earshot whilst this was taking place. Had their patient been a looker, they would have enjoyed watching, but the novelty of seeing plain girls struggle to escape the nurse's merciless ministrations had worn off long ago.

The anaesthetist sent the muscle relaxant surging through Rebecca's bloodstream and started up the machine that would breathe for her throughout the procedure. It would all prove quite surreal for the paralysed girl, as inside she was screaming and writhing in agony, but her body refused to respond, remaining placid throughout. The surgeon took Nuala's place and the insertion of the needles into her hypersensitive clitoris was every bit as excruciating as the website had promised. The surgeon used the computer to tell him when each one had been pushed in far enough to maximize the pain it would cause, then initiated the automated rest routine.

The anaesthetist monitored his patient's vital signs and mopped away her tears, the only outward sign of the incredible suffering she was enduring. After the test was complete, the surgeon fitted the electrodes, withdrew the needles, attached the connectors under the skin to the ends of the wires and sealed the tiny wounds. Then, he applied the external connectors and tested them with the standard shock device.

During the procedure, using full power would produce such a massive brain response that it would be difficult to accurately assess which sites were the most ****, so a reduced intensity was used. Nevertheless, they still caused by far the worst pain Rebecca had ever felt, so when she finally experienced the full fury of the electricity flowing through her most sensitive organ, it drove her nearly out of her mind. Nurse Nuala had been quite right about the effects and the ginger girl quite forgot all the pain that had gone before.

It only took a few minutes for the muscle relaxant to wear off and the anaesthetist removed the breathing tube and sensor cap. He and the surgeon waited a few more to ensure their patient was well, then they left the two women together. Nuala helped Rebecca into her robe and slippers and led her back to the office to get changed back into her street clothes. Then she took her back to her parents. They didn't talk on the way, Rebecca because her throat was sore from the intubation and the nurse because she didn't want her companion to feel the need to reply.

Doctor Grey was similarly considerate, but her parents couldn't resist asking a few questions, which their daughter answered raspingly. Before they left, Grey offered them the chance to see the new equipment in action.