• Cindy

Letter To The Cast Community From a Veteran Bone Breaker

Hello to all members of the cast fetish community from a woman who has broken numerous bones. I don't share your fetish. I have my own collection of fetishes. I am 27, bisexual, and have a strong interest in bondage and rope play.

Current day Danielle. She is an unmarried mom of three and quite, quite inventive in bed

I have known Cindy for 4 years. She told me about her cast fetish a couple of years ago. We were playing out a 'rope bunny' fantasy of mine at her home in Charlotte (Google it if you don't know what it is). She noticed the huge scar on my shin and asked what happened. I relayed the story I am about to tell you you. And she opened up about her cast fetish and told me about the cast community. I found the concept of a cast fetish unusual - but not weird. What the heck, I am an unmarried mother of three with a fantasy of being hanged to near death and then bound with leather restraints and kept helpless for days.

Go figure what makes people tick.

My first break occurred in October of 3rd grade. I was 9. I was at my Grandmother's house. My 6 year old cousin and I were riding a 4 wheeler my grandparent's owned. Their house was in rural South Carolina and really wasn't much more than a double wide trailer.

My cousin was riding in front of me on the 4 wheeler. We took a turn too fast and the 4 wheeler began to tip. I pushed my cousin off, and the machine ended up on my leg. I was trapped. I knew my leg was fucked up. I felt a snapping sensation when the thing fell on me. And the pain was shocking. I screamed. Grandpa got the 4 wheeler off of me.

I threw up when I saw my leg. There was a three inch piece of pink, blood covered bone sticking out of the front of my shin just below the knee. The effort of getting the 4 wheeler off of me had caused my leg to move and the protruding bone had shredded the skin above and below the break. Blood was trickling from the wound.

Grandma wrapped a towel around my leg. Grandpa loaded me in the back of his car and drove me to the medical center in Spartanburg. I would be there for a month.

I must have been in shock because I don't remember much of the ride to the medical center. I do remember them straightening my leg before x-rays. I guess I was drugged because I don't remember making a scene or screaming. They put me in a splint after x-rays and wheeled me off to surgery.

Danielle has this thing about nails. Since she was a kid, she loved painting fingers and toes. She did her own and her friends. She is currently a sales rep for Colorstreet nail products. You can see the massive scar on Danielle's left leg just below her knee

I woke up in a hospital bed. My leg was hanging in the air resting in an apparatus that had metal bars along the side and leather straps underneath to support my leg. My foot was in some type of ankle hitch. No way could I move my leg - and I suppose that was the purpose of the thing. I had three metal pins sticking out the sides of my lower leg. And one that went from front to back. My wound was partially closed with 14 stitches. But a large portion of it was left exposed. The nurses told me there was a lot of dirt in my wound and they wanted to make sure I didn't get an infection.

I suppose I had a rough childhood although it never occurred to me until I reached my 20's. I never met my father and my mother was a drug addict. I was more or less raised by my grandmother with the help of my mom's sister - aunt Sheila.

Grandma or Aunt Sheila visited me every day I was in the hospital. They would bring movies we could watch on my hospital room DVR. I colored, watched TV, and had a home bound teacher who visited my hospital room.

Time tends to blur over the course of 20 years. But I think I was in the hospital bed for about a month. During this time, my stitches were taken out, my wound was healed, and my pins were removed.

On the day I was released from the hospital, I was taken to the cast department. A large black woman placed me in a heavy toe to thigh plaster cast. This was maybe two weeks before Thanksgiving. I returned to school in early December. I stayed in the cast until early February.

God was I happy on the day that cast was removed. I went to an elementary school in Spartanburg. The school was not really handicapped accessible. My armpits were constantly sore from having to climb two flights of stairs on crutches during class changes or having to crutch my way outside to an auxiliary classroom trailer because of school over crowding.

So how is this for bad karma? I get my cast off on a Friday. Spend most of Saturday in a bath tub. Have absolutely no movement in my ankle or knee. The doctor told grandma I would be on crutches for another two weeks but could start physical therapy soon. The doctor had given grandma some ace bandages she was supposed to wrap around my ankle and knee to provide some support when I was not in the bath tub.

On Monday, I go to school. In the afternoon, I have a physical education class scheduled. I go to the gym and watch the other kids in my class play kick ball. Because I am on crutches, I am relegated to the sidelines.

Danielle (right( during her first pregnancy. The woman with her is her Aunt Sheila. In Danielle's family, woman typically start having babies at the age of 15 so there is a small age difference between generations

I happen to be a pretty good juggler. So to amuse myself, I start juggling an empty water bottle, a rolled up scarf, a bean bag and a tennis ball. The scarf did me in. I missed it and it landed behind me. I dropped my crutches and reached down to get it. I fell. Felt a snap in my thigh. I had broken my femur about two inches above my knee.

God did that hurt. I literally could not stop screaming. Gym class stopped. Students were ordered into the bleachers to watch me writhe around on the gym floor. Other classes ended as teachers came running to see who was doing all the screaming.

The school nurse called my mother - huge mistake. Two hours later, mom shows up higher than a kite. Her nose was so red, it was almost bleeding. Two teachers carried me - still screaming - and got me into the back seat of her car which was filled with drug paraphernalia and smelled of weed.

Fortunately, mom drove me over to the feed store where grandma worked. Grandma took one look at the thigh bone that was pressing against my skin and called an ambulance. Back to the medical center - this time for a three month stay.

I passed out from pain in the ER. I awoke in a hospital room with my leg in traction. Back then, it looked like they had drilled a rod through my knee and attached ropes and weights to it. I realized later that the rod was actually a Steinmann pin and the pin had been inserted about an inch above my knee.

I laid in that bed for three months. All I have are bad memories of that time. Mom died of an overdose two weeks after I was placed in traction. The hospital food was awful. I had to use a bedpan and I was horribly embarrassed when the nurses had to help wipe me. The process of cleaning my traction pin sites was painful - especially when the skin began growing over the pin. I was bored constantly. The nurses were generally nice but they were as tired of me after three months as I was of them.

One really weird thing happened during my stay in traction. The Barnum and Bailey Circus was in Spartanburg during my stay. A group of clowns visited the medical center during the circus visit. For some reason, they chose me to visit and the hospital allowed a newspaper photographer to take a picture of me in my hospital bed with the clowns. I am terrified of clowns. Although I am smiling in the picture that appeared in the Charlotte Observer, I can assure you that was not a happy day.

Danielle in her hospital bed being greeted by circus. Like me, Danielle is terrified of clowns. Not a good day in spite of her smile.

Speaking of happy days, in mid May, I was removed from traction and placed in a spica cast. The spica cast was a bit of a surprise. When you are nine, what you are told and what you understand are probably a bit different. I understood that I would be placed in a cast after traction. No biggie. I had just spent three months in a cast. I expected a nice comfy toe to thigh cast like I had before. I would be on crutches and back at school with my friends in no time.

Aunt Sheila was on Danielle duty that day. We watched Dr. Doolittle 2 that morning. I was put to sleep late morning. I woke up in a spica cast that went from my armpits to the toes of my broken leg and the knee of my good leg. There was a wooden bar between my legs.

I screamed when I first saw the cast. But slowly, I accepted my fate. I spent two more nights in the hospital waiting for that damned cast to dry. On the third day, I was released into the custody of Aunt Sheila. For some reason, I would live with Aunt Sheila going forward. She explained to me at the time, that she had a more wheelchair accessible house. I learned later that grandpa had begun drinking again and his behavior was unstable - especially when kids were around.

So I spent the next three months in that spica cast. The dining room of Aunt Sheila's house was converted into a bedroom for me. Grandma came by almost daily to help with dressing, toilet, and eating needs. My cousins - Peter and Amanda - were decent to me considering I disrupted their lives. Peter was the one I saved from injury the previous year. Amanda. Well Amanda was a girl two years older than me who I would later develop a relationship with. More on that when I tell you about the arm I broke 4 years later.

The spica cast was dreadful. It itched, was hot, and smelled. I was constantly humiliated when Aunt Sheila had company. In August - just before school started - the spica cast was removed and I was placed in a toe to thigh fiberglass cast. I spent six weeks in that cast. It was removed in October.

After a year of immobility, my knee and ankle were virtually useless. It took me a year of intense physical therapy to walk normally after the casts were removed. It was two years before I was able to participate in physical education or play sports.

To this day, my leg bothers me. Any change in weather results in a throbbing pain in my thigh, shin, or knee. I can't kneel easily (or get up after kneeling) which is a life requirement when you have three kids. I can walk on treadmill but can't run. My knee swells from the trauma that occurred immediately below and above the joint.

But I guess all things considered, everything turned out OK. Cindy will insert some pictures of me in this letter to break up the monotony of lots of words. I will continue the letter in a couple of weeks and tell you about my broken arm and broken jaw.

A playful Danielle. Hard to believe she is a rope bunny - but she is.

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