Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

Jane Doe

This is all so mortifying. Why do they care about my period? The strange man already said he’s not going to fuck me. Then what does it matter? Not fucking means I won’t get pregnant. Besides, if I haven’t gotten pregnant now, that means I probably won’t ever. Yet one more thing they've taken away from me.

A burn starts in the back of my throat as I blink away the tears threatening to fall. Just because I’d always wanted children didn’t mean it was still a lofty goal - not after everything I’d been through. How could I, in good conscience, raise a child when such evil roams about the world? It’s ludicrous to think any good can come of it.

Mother always said rape was a horrible thing because it would rob you of your ability to have babies. That’s why I had to be extra careful not to entice men. They just couldn’t help themselves. If they forced themselves on me, then it was my fault. Barrenness was just the natural way for the body to protect itself from loose morals. Maybe she was right. Maybe I wasn’t on any birth control, and my mind just made it up from all the delusions I slipped into.

Tears start to flow down my cheeks in earnest. Perhaps it's better this way. Perhaps I don’t deserve to have any children, not after letting man after man have their way with me. Strong fingers brush at my cheeks, and I remember the stranger once again. The one that feels safe but promises danger. I can’t let him see me weak like this. That’s one more blow I just can’t take.

A slight pressure down below alerts me that Dr. Bradley is starting his examination. I lie back against the warm chest, letting my weakness get the better of me. He said he’s got me; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to lean on his strength for just a few more moments. Breathing deep like he wants to me, I force myself to remember all the other gyno exams I had. It’s just like that. Nothing more; nothing less. It doesn’t matter that it’s a man. They can be doctors too.

Mom never let me see a man. She said it wasn’t appropriate for anyone other than my husband to see me down there. Boy, would she be furious to know about all the men that have seen me, touched me, fucked me. I don’t count Billy. He was going to marry me. It was okay to show him things because he promised to take me away, promised to make me his. How could something that felt good be so wrong?

Pain explodes deep within me as he slides the metal up my vagina. I bite down on my lower lip to keep from screaming out, but it does nothing to subside the pain. The stranger with the soft, brown eyes wraps his arms around me and looks over at the doctor, a slice of worry flashing through their depths before they change back to the unconcerned indifference they once were. Perhaps I imagined that as well. It wouldn’t be the first time I misjudged someone’s eyes.

“It’s almost in. She’s fighting me hard.”

“Please,” I moan. “I’m not trying to. It just hurts. Please. Please stop. It’s hurting so bad.”

“Are you using the large speculum?” The stranger’s voice is soft and even, but even I can detect the bite of malice underneath his tone.

“Of course not, Andrew. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s not what your resume says. What schools did you go to again?”

Andrew. His name is Andrew. Such a sensible name. Too sensible and practical. Dr. Bradley eases it in a bit more, and I clutch at Andrew’s arm, willing him with my mind to put me back to sleep. Anything but this agony. I thought I was done with this. Each unwanted thrust hurts worse than the last. I thought I was safe. But apparently not. I’ll never be safe anymore.

“Dear God James, what are you doing to her? I didn’t think you were this incompetent.”

“Please.” The whimpers are demoralizing, but at least when all those men fucked me, I was out of it. Higher than a kite. Now, they’re forcing me to feel the invasion, face the fact that I’m broken beyond repair - all without the mind-numbing elixir forced into my veins. I love it now. Crave it even. I hated every time they stuck a needle in me, but soon that blissful warmth would take over, freeing me of my inhibitions and allowing them to do as they pleased.

Who knows what all they did to me while I was out of it. Would I even want to know? Countless men shoved fingers, dicks, bottles, anything they could fit inside. And if it ripped a little? Who cares? I sure as hell didn’t. I was too busy tucked away in my mind searching for pleasure where I could get it. What I would give for just another hit. Anything to stop the pain. Anything to make me no longer feel. Anything to see my sister again.

“Jesus James, do something. I won’t see her suffering like this.”

As if you care about my suffering. With my eyes screwed up, I don’t see Dr. Bradley move, but I hear him over near the IV bag. Is he giving me some of the good stuff? Will he finally give me too much and kill me? Such a sweet relief. I’d never been one to dream of death. I had way too much to live for. As bad as things were at home, it drove my will to live - to see the world. Now, I just want a moment alone with my wildflowers while they let me die in peace. No more pain, no more intrusions, just black.

The words the two men exchange become muffled, their voices like fog, thick and heavy in my ears. They’re angry. That much I know. I’ve become attuned to anger; I wear it like a second skin so I can pick up on it that much faster and diffuse the situation. Though I think to raise my arm to stroke Andrew, to tell him I’m okay, that I’ll be a good girl, my arm doesn’t move. I’m weighed down by a thick blanket - black and rich as it stretches over my entire being, rendering my limbs immobile.

I can feel my lips as they twitch, trying for a semblance of a smile and hoping it’s not a grimace. The tell-tale fog creeps over my brain, making thinking inconsequential. All I have to do is float. Just float and be at peace. That’s all that’s required of me. The men will do what they will, and I’ll not feel a thing.