Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

Andrew

My heart stops as she says her name. True, it already stuttered to a halt when she called me Andrew. I shouldn’t have liked how it sounded spilling from her lips. It’s dangerous - too dangerous to get caught up in her silken web. It’s already hard enough to keep a clinical distance and help her heal. I meant what I said; if she can’t control her mouth, I’ll be more than happy to leave a taste in it that will make her change her mind. Maybe if her throat is raw and aching, she won’t be able to form nasty words.

All of that, I could handle, but Davenport? Surely that’s a common name. I peer at her again, noting all the things about her that looked familiar. With a name to go with the face, it’s obvious. There’s no denying it. However, there’s also no denying that the subconscious is a fickle mistress. It will plant things that aren’t even there. It could be in trying to make sense of this woman, in wanting to keep her at arm’s length, that my mind conjured up a reason to stay apart. What better cock block than Melody?

Then again, what are the odds of two people with the same last name having kooky first names with heavy religious undertones? Melody and Chastity. The names fit together in a way that has me questioning everything. There’s only one way to find out and spare myself the agony. “Do you have a sister?”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, and she bites her lips together. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead stand up from the bed, putting space between us. Of course she won’t tell me that. She probably thinks I’m one of the men that kidnapped her, and I’m just looking for her sister to complete the set.

“Let me rephrase. Is your sister’s name Melody?” Even if she refuses to answer out loud, her body will tell me. She remains silent, but her eyes widen, that hint of hysterical fear filling the orbs. Bingo, and fuck me while we’re at it. Shaking my head, I pick up her hand, ignoring how it practically vibrates with fear, and shove her fingers in between her thighs. She struggles for a moment before going limp when I don’t release her. Playing dead isn’t going to work on me.

I pull them back out and shove them in front of her face. She looks everywhere else for a moment before sneaking a glance, then staring when she realizes it’s not cum smeared on her fingertips.

“It’s lube from the earlier examination. Given that you were in agony even with the copious amounts of lube he used, I’d be grateful Doctor Bradley didn’t shove it in without it. After the exam, I wiped you as best as I could, dressed you, and brought you to my home. No one has touched you, and no one will. Lie down; I’ll be back in a moment.”

Not even bothering to see if she’ll obey me, I storm out of the room and lock it, not that there is anyone here who’d harm her, but her psyche is beyond fragile. Any threat, real or imagined, could cause her extreme distress. Pulling out my phone, I dial Jeremy’s number.

“Richards.”

“It’s Andrew. Bring Melody over to my house. There’s someone she’s going to want to see.”

“She’s tied up at the moment. Can this wait?”

I pause, hating the fact that just her name can conjure up the image of her naked, slathered in my cum. Knowing Jeremy, he’s probably one hundred percent accurate in that she is literally tied up – badly, seeing as I have never seen anything he’s done that would make me want to recommend him as a rigger. Knowing him, he probably took some boating rope from the local convenience store and made pretty bows around her wrists.

If it were me, she’d be trussed up tighter than Thanksgiving Day turkey. The thought shouldn’t make my balls ache, but it does. It doesn’t matter that her sister is fighting for her sanity; there’s still a part, no matter how small, that would still love to put Melody in her place - underneath me. It’s not about lust. Not really. I just abhor losing. Does having her sister count as a win? It’s not like Jeremy would want them both, nor should he.

“I believe I have her sister. Should that wait?”

Pause. “We’ll be over shortly.”

I turn off the call and slide the phone back into my pocket. What am I going to do? I can’t give up Chastity, not yet, not when I haven’t even scratched the surface of her. Melody isn’t going to want her to stay. I know that as sure as I know, Kellogg was a bastard, even if his studies on enemas had merit. As a doctor, my word has clout. I just need to convince Melody of it.

Walking back down the hallway, I picture Melody melting down into histrionics. Hopefully, Jeremy will have the balls to handle her because if she agitates Chastity in a way that’s detrimental to her health, I’ll have no choice but to handle her myself. I open the door, not surprised to see the bed empty. Even though I’d normally chastise a seasoned submissive for direct disobedience, I’m allowing Chastity a little leeway. No matter how small, any defiance is a show of strength I plan to cultivate in her.

She’s been torn apart for heavens knows how long. These small disobediences will be more helpful in the long run. That’s not to say she’ll go completely unpunished, but just like choosing to spank her instead of violating her mouth, I’ll temper my punishments to something she can handle. Though I did not consider the pain she was in from the withdrawal, that will be an extra layer of spice she’ll have to consider when defying me. As such, I won’t have to be a harsh disciplinarian to get my point across.

Though she isn’t on the bed, she also isn’t anywhere in the room that I can see. A small tremor of worry gnaws from my gut up to my throat. The door was locked when I came back. There was no way she could escape unless she was well versed in cat burglary, but something tells me that’s not the case.

Closing my eyes, I still my breathing and listen. There. It’s faint, but I can hear it. Striding over to the bed, I hunch down and look under, surprised to see Chastity's form huddled in on itself, shivering with either fear, cold, or both.

“Come out. No one’s going to hurt you.” The lie slips through my teeth as easily as sand streaming through an hourglass. All that matters is if she believes it. When she doesn’t move, I decide to change tactics. “I’ve called your sister. She and her fiancé are heading over to meet you. Do you really want to greet them on the floor, like a dog?”

Her head shake is pitiful, and after a moment, she eases herself out, every movement punctuated by whimpers and groans. Checking my watch, I confirm it’s time for another dose of muscle relaxant. Perfect timing too. Perhaps once they arrive, she’ll be in good enough spirits to convince them I’m not a monster, that she’s perfectly safe here with me.

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