Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

“I can’t. Please. I can’t.”

He pauses, pulling the toy out in small movements.

“Soon, it won’t be. Soon, you’ll be begging for more and more. I’ll let you rest for now, but mark my words; I’ll be training you to come so many times you won’t be able to walk straight after.”

If anyone else had said this to me, I would have laughed in their face. As it is, there’s a nugget of hysterical laughter bubbling just below my breastbone. I don’t let it out, though. I don’t want him to think I’m making fun of him or the situation, because truth be told, it’s very serious. My emotions aren’t yet tied into this man, but I feel myself slipping minute by minute, touch by touch.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl,” he pauses to hold the glass with his cum up in front of me. “I’ll give you your punishment this way.” He reaches over to set the glass on the nightstand again before undoing my wrists.

A few pillows later, and I’m sitting up, my eyes level with his chest. A fine sheen of sweat covers his body, and it takes every ounce of control not to drag my tongue over him and taste his skin. I know I’ll be tasting more than I bargained for soon. I shift my gaze back to the shot glass of cum. Will it taste different since it’s not coming directly from the source? He pauses to untie my legs, and I just stare at the glass. Already the cum is settling into the bottom with a thin, white film where it’s starting to dry out on the sides. Maybe if I can stall, it will turn gross, and he won’t make me do it?

Fat chance. Better to get it over with now. Once all limbs are free, he runs his hands along the muscles, gently kneading as he travels up. Until now, I didn’t realize how sore I actually was. It’s not a normal sore. I haven’t felt like this until I woke up from that damn drug. I shove it deep inside and refuse to let myself even whimper. I don’t want him to know how bad the pain is getting. Besides, He’ll get me my medicine soon enough. Just as soon as I drink down his cum.

“Bottoms up.”

Smirking, he holds the glass to my lips, his expression daring me to reject it. Agony twists up my spine as I reach out and cradle it in my hands. There’s a gelatinous quality to it that makes my stomach churn. I study it in the glass, wondering if I’ve actually made the right choice. The more I look at it, the less of a reward it’s turning out to be. Doctor Rayne just stares at me, a smug tilt to his lips. I want to punch his face so bad.

I wince as another spasm racks my body. It’s difficult, but I keep still. He’s looking at me, the smug turning to concern. Shaking my head, I open my lips and let the cum plop into my mouth. Since it’s cold, the texture and taste are both wrong. I gag as it slides down my throat and threatens to make me spew bile all over Doctor Rayne. His smile, though, that makes it worth it.

Reaching over, he slides his thumb across my lips, wiping off an errant drop or two that I missed. To think my new monster has a heart. At least that's what he’s trying to convey. Whether or not I believe him is another story. The laugh that threatened to leave me earlier creeps back up into my throat. He’s not such a bad guy. He’s really not. If I lie to myself enough, maybe when he turns on me, it won’t hurt so much?

Gray filters back in until his face is a hazy blur. I can hear the laughter releasing, but it’s muted. Not real. Nothing feels real. Pain erupts over my body, making me bow up against the bed. He’s speaking again. Those magical words. I hear them. They shimmer just out of reach, like a mirage.

Heavy lead fills my limbs as I sink down into the bed until I’m engulfed in warm water. It fills my lungs, replacing air with burning heat. I have a vague sense of movement around me, but nothing registers. I flail about, needing to pull myself up out of the water dragging me down, but it does nothing more than pull me further.

* * *

Andrew

Her body goes slack for a moment before arching back up. Agony is etched into her face. Fuck. I didn’t think an orgasm would set her off. She enjoyed it immensely by the sound of it, but I can’t have her react this way every time I pleasure her. I stretch over her body, whispering into her ear. I can’t seem to reach her.

Fire brands my skin as her heated flesh presses into mine. Lifting my hand, I rest it, palm side up, on her forehead. She’s burning up. Glancing over at the clock, I realize it’s way past time for her medicine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grab the glass and toss it back onto the nightstand, not giving a damn if it breaks or not.

Turning towards the door, I yell for Angela before tossing a sheet over Chastity, hiding her naked form. It doesn’t matter to me that she’s seen all my women in various scenes of undress; Chastity is different. I don’t let myself examine why that is at this moment. Right now, there are more important things to deal with.

Angela flutters in, her classic maid outfit a stark contrast to the lush surroundings. If she thinks there’s anything wrong with how I’m holding Chastity down, she doesn’t show it. For a brief moment, I’m grateful to have someone like her in my life. All the people that surround me accept me for who and what I am.

“Grab the IV kit, needles, and the vials next to it. Clonidine and Xanax. Also, grab the muscle relaxer.” Nodding, she hurries off to the closet, not needing to be told twice. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I’m going to make you feel better soon.” Soon, the medicine is at my side with Angela pausing beside the bed, hands clasped behind her, waiting for my further orders.

“I don’t think I’ll need the IV, but I want you to set it up just in case.”

Nodding, she busies herself with rigging it up as I pull out the first needle and draw up the medicine. Muscle relaxer first. I find the fleshy part of her arm and depress the plunger, letting that get into her system before administering the other two. How could I have been so careless? I had everything planned for today, and it all went to shit when she tried to escape. I don’t fault her for any of this. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.

The routine was set in my mind. I should have acted as if her little coup didn’t matter a bit. But no. I got too involved in fucking with her mind. There are rituals and protocols in place to keep her from getting here, and I fucked them all up. Her body rests as the medicines take hold, and I breathe just a bit easier.

“Thank you, Angela. I have it from here.”

With a delicate curtsy, she heads for the door, shutting it with a small click. I turn back to my patient, running my fingers along her delicate lips. I was a moron. She’s in pain because of me. Never again. The only pain I want her in is the one that I deliver on purpose. Satisfied that she isn’t going to tip off the bed, I bustle about the room, gathering up the ropes and other toys so I can put them away.

Once the room is how I like it, I check back in on Chastity, gazing down at the soft smile on her lips. What is she dreaming about, I wonder? An irrational flare of jealousy twists down in my gut. I really need to get away from her and suss out my feelings. The more we’re together, the more I feel enmeshed with her. This isn’t good. I have so many other women I could play with. I can’t get fixated on her.

The soft sigh as she snuggles into my palm undoes me. When did I even touch her? I’m drawn to her in a way that I’ve never been with another woman. Not even Melody stirred me this much. Hell, I just wanted to fuck with Jeremy. That and her blush was so damned delightful. I trace the delicate features of Chastity’s face, knowing that I have my own woman to tease and torment. The blush must be hereditary because my own little patient has it in spades.

The only difference is, I want to crawl into her mind and dwell there. I don’t just want to make her blush for the shock factor. I know Jeremy is into humiliation, but with me, it’s different. I want to draw Chastity out of her shell. I want her blushes to be for me and no one else. Jeremy seems content with showing off all the lurid ways he can make Melody’s pretty cheeks turn red, and God knows it’s erotic as hell, but with Chastity, I want to shelter her from other people.

Visions of her lying on the initiation bed as others come on her has red creeping into my vision. For that reason alone, I should send her back out into the world with one of my friends. A psychiatrist that’s not at all like me - one who takes the Hippocratic oath seriously and does not see how much they can bend it before it breaks.

As I look down at her, I know I’ll never give her up. Certainly not to the likes of Peters. He won’t be able to give her what she needs. He won’t be able to calm the demons in her mind in the same way. She needs me. Only I can see to her every desire, even the ones she doesn’t know about yet.

“Andrew.”

The name is soft as a sigh on her lips as her body rocks against me. Her eyes are still closed, fluttering as if in a deep sleep. I’ll let her use of my name slide right now, mostly because she’s not conscious, and I refuse to punish someone for something they have no control over. However, there’s a part of me, just a small part that I’ll never let see the light of day, that loves the sound of my name on her lips.

I need to get a fucking grip. Pulling myself away from the bed, I grab my phone and start looking through the list of things that should have already been done today. Everything went to hell earlier, and it’s my job to put it all back together. Walking over to the closet, I pull out an outfit similar to Angela’s with one major difference. In the back, the pleats will be able to separate to expose Chastity’s ass if I desire it.

There’s a rivulet of stubbornness that slithers inside her. I’m glad for it because it’s what’s keeping her alive and not letting her wallow into a pathetic shell, but I do hate how much more difficult it makes my job. Then again, if I’m honest with myself, it’s her fight that’s endearing me to her. If she was just another spineless girl, easily bent to my will, where is the fun? Where is the challenge?

I lay the dress on the edge of the bed and gather her underwear, bra, and knee highs. I’m not giving her shoes until she proves that she won’t be a flight risk. Checking on her one last time, I head over to the bathroom, keeping the door open so I can hear her if she gets up. Drawing a bath, I set up the enema bench, my cock twitching at the idea of filling her up in a way I can almost guarantee no one has before.

Soft moans drift over to me, and I lean over to turn off the tub. I grab the salts and dunk several cups into the water, the strong scent of menthol and peppermint wafting up from the steaming water as I turn to collect my patient.

She starts to sit up, her eyes taking a bit to focus. I lean in close, wanting - no, needing - to be the first thing she sees after going through that ordeal. My fingers flit through her hair as I resist the urge to hold her close and tell her everything will be okay. I can’t do that. I can’t be that for her. Somehow, I’ll find a way to extricate myself from her, but in the meantime, I’ll use her for my pleasure until I finally have the strength to give her up.

I’ll have to make a decision soon. Once The Society gets wind of her, I’ll be forced to either give her up to them or claim her, and I’m not willing to do either. I don’t think Grigori or Jeremy will say anything, but I can’t guarantee their women won’t.