Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

His kiss on the back of my head is unexpected but over far too soon. Once he leaves, I’m forced to sit there, thinking about everything while my bowels cramp and twist. Angela is of no help. Once Doctor Andrew is out of the room, she brings out a magazine from inside her many pockets and begins to read, looking at her watch every few moments.

My fingers grip at the leather as I desperately try to hold everything in. Five minutes already feels like an eternity. The fact that he wants to work me up to even longer is terrifying. Breathing in and out, I force myself to focus on something else. Anything else. By the time Angela takes me over to the toilet, I know for a fact that the bathroom has over fifty tiles on the floor. She does give me a bit of privacy while I get rid of everything I’ve ever eaten since I was five. Looking away, she turns on both the water and fan while humming a catchy tune under her breath.

Finally. Once I’m done and clean, I stand next to the tub, waiting for her to help me in and let me soak. It’s this moment that I live for. Here, I’m just me. Just a normal girl relaxing. Nothing else can get me here. Taking a deep breath, I slip beneath the water, letting it flow over me as I lie on the bottom of the tub.

Thankfully Angela doesn’t freak out when I do this. I think she understands the need to escape, even if it’s just for a moment or two at a time. I repeat this process, seeing if I can hold my breath longer and longer until the last time I rise up to meet her face. She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t frown either. Neutral. She also doesn’t seem to judge, and that’s the best part of it.

“Why are you here?” She pauses as she grabs my leg, preparing to shave me.

“Doctor Rayne is a good man.” She props my foot up on the edge of the tub and lathers me up. “He saw me in a bad situation and gave me a place to stay.” After swirling the razor through the water, she brings it to my skin and proceeds to drag it down my body.

“But what about,” I pause, not even knowing how to encompass all of this into words.

“The weird, kinky shit?” She plops the razor back into the water. “Don’t tell him I cursed.” A smile tilts up the side of her lips as she winks at me.

The blossom of hope that exploded at her words fade as I process what she said. “Does he - you know - punish you too?”

“Oh, indeed. For all his quirks, the doctor is very old-fashioned. But, if what you’re really asking is does he make me choke on his cock like he does you, the answer is no. We’ve never had that type of relationship. I get soap, which I will argue is much worse than his dick.”

Giggling, I settle back against the tub. “It depends on why he’s forcing it down your throat, I guess.”

“True. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not a threat to you. I’m into this lifestyle but in a far different way. I crave the service, the discipline. It’s not about sex for me. He realized early on that I had a deep-seated need to be useful. Well, as you can clearly see, I’m of use.”

I let the water lap about me as she finishes working. The rhythm of her swipes set me into an odd, dreamlike state. It’s so odd to feel so pampered yet knowing it’s all for someone else. Maybe one day I’ll care whether or not I’m shaved, but today certainly is not that day. Given my own choice, I’d be covered under blankets and laze about.

Maybe that’s really why Angela’s here. The routine keeps me up and moving. There’s no time to really overthink when you’re forced to concentrate on other things. I don’t even fight her when she starts to shave the more intimate parts of my body. It’s just a job to her, one that she seems to desperately need.

Glancing at her watch again, Angela helps me up out of the bath and rinses me off before toweling me dry. I reach out to dry myself, but she swats my hand away, giving me a censured glare. It makes sense, though. I wouldn't want to be at the receiving end of Doctor Rayne’s wrath any more than she would. And I have the actual option of sexual torture. More than likely, hers is just painful punishment.

Once again, I find myself standing at the edge of the bed, waiting for the next part of my day - Doctor Rayne dressing me. It feels so infantile, so unnecessary. He must have a reason for it, but it’s not one he’s ever conveyed to me. More than likely, he never will. He doesn’t give things out willingly. He’s such a closed book, but instead of being repulsed, I find myself more intrigued every day.

It’s his quiet intensity that calms my nerves and soothes my soul. I don’t need him to engage me in conversation every minute - I thrive in companionable silence - I just need...him. As if on cue, he walks through the door, several shiny objects in hand.

“Thank you, Angela, that will be all.”

She dips down and glides through the door, pausing to wink at me before closing it behind her. My heart swells for a moment because even in the middle of whatever turmoil Doctor Rayne and I might find ourselves in, I’ll never be alone. I’m not stupid enough to think she’ll choose me over him, but I at least have someone I can talk to freely.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to forgo your posture collar. Angela tells me it made your work a little slower. That, and I could feel the tension in your neck and shoulders when I took it off. I think you’ll find this a bit more to your liking.”

He holds up the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen - a solid, silver band with an intricate design hanging from it. Glancing up at him, I ease my hand forward, looking for any show of displeasure as I reach out to touch it. His face never wavers, and so I go for it, brushing my fingers across the small medallion encrusted with stones.

“It’s silver and diamonds.”

“But why?”

It’s then his lips dip down into a frown. “Do I need a reason to dress you as I see fit?”

“No, Sir. But I -.”

He holds a finger to my lips. “Then I shall continue to do my job and care for you. If that means forcing you to wear finery, then so be it. You’re under my care. How you look and act reflects on me. Though I dress you in a maid’s outfit, these pieces of jewelry will show everyone just who you belong to.”

Heat swirls in my belly and pools lower. I’ve never really belonged to anyone before, much less someone that actually gave a damn with how I looked and acted beyond making sure I didn’t become an embarrassment to the church friends. He lays the pieces down and pulls out his kit with all the medicines. Truthfully, I can’t wait for this part to be over, but I’m still ever so grateful. Besides that horrible morning, I haven’t had any side effects from coming off of the drug. Even my regressions have been less.

He pulls out the two needles I recognize, accompanied by a third. It’s larger than the other two and contains a pale, yellow liquid. His brow raises as he catches me staring at it, but why shouldn’t I? He may say that I’m his, but I still have a say in what goes into my body. I trust him as a medical professional, but that doesn’t take away any natural curiosity I have.

“I will be giving you three more nutrient shots. One today, and the other two over the course of the next two days. I’ll assess your health then.”

There’s something in his eyes as he says this. I can’t read it, but I don’t like it. What isn’t he telling me? “I think I’m fine without it. I’ve been feeling much better.”

He crosses his arms before smirking. “Yes, you would be. Remember, I gave you a shot last night. I want to help you continue your journey to wellness. I promise you that I won’t give you anything you don’t absolutely need. Now then, close your eyes, so you don’t see the needle.”

That’s odd. He’s never had me do that before. Not with the other two. Perhaps it’s because this one is bigger and will hurt more? A pinch, not much worse, tells me it’s done. For some reason, it’s in the opposite thigh as the other; no doubt he wants to even out the soreness. The other two shots go without a hitch, but I’m not surprised.

For how much Doctor Rayne likes littering me with bruises, he seems to do his best not to cause unneeded pain. For that, I’m eternally grateful. He could easily be the type of monster that inflicts discomfort at every turn. He puts on my bra, pausing to rub my nipples, adding in that frisson of pleasure with his actions. Next are my panties. This set is a deep maroon, just a fancy as the previous pair. He places them on the bed, just waiting until after he’s stuffed me with the dilator.

After he glides the knee highs on, he slides the dress over my head and turns me around, letting me brace as he fastens the back. It feels like this day has been the same for weeks now, but I know it’s not. Everything feels surreal. The days stretch out into eons, as if this is the dream and not the reality. That bite of fear returns as I turn my thoughts deeper. What if all of this was still the drug? How will I ever know?

Doctor Rayne slides his hand to the back of my neck and turns me to face him. “Where do you go, sweetie.”

How can I even tell him? It sounds psychotic even in my own head. If I say it out loud, will he have me committed? Will he put me back in the straitjacket and not let me do anything? Shaking my head, I look at the floor, willing him to drop the conversation. I know he won’t. He’s like a dog with a bone. He’ll never drop something unless forced.

This has to be a dream. The things I know about him seem too intimate, too knowledgeable. It’s not possible to know someone this deeply after a few days. Then again, even if this is a dream, do I really want to wake up? Tears prick my eyes as I stare at his warm gaze. This right here is my heaven; I don’t really want to go back to the hell I was in.

At best, they have me hooked up to the drug and shoved off to the side. At worst, this is all very real, and yet they’re still somehow fucking with me. Like maybe he’s the one that bought me. But that can’t be it either. Melody would never stand by and let that happen. There’s no way. He stares at me, expectant, but I have nothing to say. Nothing he’ll want to hear anyway.

“You are aware I do this for a living, right? There’s nothing you can tell me that will shock me or scare me away.”

“I hate that you turn me on like you do.”

That wicked smile is back, the one that churns my insides and makes every thought fly like ash on the wind. “And do you propose I stop?”

“No. Never. I mean -.” I fumble about, trying to find the right words. “It scares me.”

“What scares you.”

I reach out and touch his arm, needing his solid strength. “I’m scared you’re not real. I’m scared I’m too fuc - messed up -.” I correct myself, but I know that’s no guarantee I’ll be exempt from punishment. His rules are rigid and exact - safe and secure. I never have to doubt where I stand with him. “I don’t want you to see me as some crazy woman, but I am. I have no way of knowing my true reality.”

Sighing, he pulls me close to him and rests my head on his chest. His pulse is strong and sure, just like him. We stand there for an eternity with him breathing out and me desperately trying to match his calm and steady rhythm. “What’s different about this?”