Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

“All completely necessary. You have tied my hands and will not allow me to touch your girl. A proxy is the next best thing.”

“I didn’t tell you to abuse my staff.”

“But you didn’t say I couldn’t. I do believe any means necessary was said. In my professional opinion, this is necessary.”

My words are punctuated by a sob from Rita, and my irritation starts climbing again. The woman is in no danger. She’d been quiet through the whole ordeal with Chelsea, with some whines here and some sobs there, but now, as an emotional plea to her boss, she lets out this pained wail? As if she’s in agony?

I reach back over to check the rope, satisfied that her pitiful display is just for show. If the rope is causing her that much discomfort on her scalp, she can just lower her body. That might not make her low back feel good, but then, it isn’t my job to coddle her or see to some imagined needs.

My palm itches as I stare at her plump backside, and I can’t wait to give her something to whimper about. But first, I need Grigori to leave. I work much better alone, and by the sounds coming from the chair, Chelsea will be awake soon. I only gave her a small amount of sedative, nothing too strong that would keep her out for hours. With a nod, he gives a glance over at Chelsea, a smile softening his stern face.

“Do I have your permission to restrain her? Just so she doesn’t try attacking me again.”

That soft smile disappears in an instant. Note to self, never threaten Chelsea in any way around Grigori. The lummox can’t seem to control himself where that brat is concerned. Shaking my head, I cross my arms and stare him down. Mad or not, he can’t really intimidate me. That would mean I care. And out of all the things that enter my purview, some puffed-up Russian is last on the list.

He can beat his chest and brandish the gun he thinks is hidden oh so well in his pants, but we both know he won’t touch me. Not while Chelsea is still technically a member of our enclave. We will destroy him if he thinks to make a move on another member. A soft smile crosses my lips as we look at each other. I wonder how much I can push him before he cracks.

I would love another go at Chelsea. Not for sex, mind you - not pleasurable sex anyway. I still want to break her more than any creature I’ve ever known. Her smart mouth and haughty attitude need to be snapped in two, and it’s obvious that Grigori isn’t doing his job.

“You know, I can prescribe you something for that anger. Mellow you right out.”

The frown turns into a scowl as he looks back over at Chelsea and shakes his head.

“Do what you have to, but don’t lay a finger on her. If she needs discipline, I’ll be the one to do it.”

“Oh? Truly? Does that mean you’ll punish her for attacking me?

“You brought that on yourself.”

“That’s what I thought. You’ll never bring her to heel.”

“Why do I get the feeling you have a plan to do it yourself?” Grigori narrows his eyes, his fingers inching towards his belt.

“Not that I’d do it while she’s yours. But know this, you weren’t the first choice. I don’t know why Jeremy went to you. There was a line a mile long, ready to take her and break her spirit.”

“And yet, when you had her, none of you did. Now it’s up to me to mold her how I want her. And trust me, I will not break her spirit. You may want a woman to crawl to you on her hands and knees, but my Chelsea will submit to me with her head held high. Now then, if you’re done criticizing my dominance style, I believe I’m paying you by the hour?”

With a turn of his heel, he strides out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He’s missing a golden opportunity with Chelsea. When he first got her, she was so vulnerable, so fragile. He could have crushed her without any effort.

A soft moan draws my gaze over to Chelsea, a sneer lifting the edge of my lips. If only. Striding over, I ignore Rita’s struggles, only glancing down to ensure she doesn’t tip the cart over. Since all my rope is occupied, I let my gaze drift around the room to see how I can make do. If only I had a straitjacket. Grigori couldn’t complain since it’s a medical device. Knowing him, he’d find something else to bitch about.

Curtain ties it is. Grabbing the decorative ropes, I tie one wrist down to the arm of the chair and then the other. The deep maroon offsets the creamy white of her skin, sending visions of red stripes in other areas. Her lashes flutter as she comes back into consciousness. Showtime. I want so badly to wake her up with a slap to her face, but that would break the rules. Instead, I clap my hands together, the loud crack startling her awake.

“Now that you’re with us again, we can continue.”

Confusion lines her features as she ponders my words. She’s awake, but her mind is moving very slowly. Though her body explodes into a flurry of movement as she remembers what transpired between us. Having her hands bound doesn’t do a thing to stop her from trying to escape. She kicks out with her feet, struggling in her chair. I watch as she expends herself, knowing she’ll wear out eventually. How long it will take, that's another matter entirely. Her face is flushed with exertion, her wrists rimmed in red. If she doesn't cut it out, I'll probably be blamed for her injuries.

Walking back over to the cart, I slam my palm against the metal, startling a shriek out of both Rita and Chelsea. Ahh. Such a delicious sound. I make a great show of turning around and palming my erection, not caring one bit as her eyes eat into her face. Such large, voluminous eyes with just a hint of tears - just how I want her.

"If you're absolutely done with this display, I suggest we continue. What happened in Florida?"

"Was I ever in Florida?" She retorts, tossing her head back like a wild mare.

If only Grigori had broken her when he first had her. None of this would be so difficult. Smirking, I stand behind Rita, letting my palm glide against the swell of her ass. Chelsea stills, her eyes glued to my hand.

"Florida, Chelsea. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"N-nothing happened in Florida," she whispers, voice soft and hoarse.

If I wasn't paying close attention to her, I might have missed it - I don't even know if I actually heard her. It was her moving lips that confirmed it. Seems like the fight is starting to die out, but it's still there, simmering below the surface. Bending low, I grab the hem of Rita's uniform, sliding it up her calves in infinitesimal increments. Chelsea's throat works as she swallows hard, eyes following my every movement. Once I flip the drab material over, Rita flies into a rage, tossing about, nearly upending the cart. I grip the back of her neck, stilling her for a moment, before bringing my head low, watching Chelsea as I whisper in Rita's ear.