There has to be someone like that for me. If not, I’ll go through every damned submissive I have access to and go right up to the edge of their limits before moving on to the next. All I have to do is get through tonight.
“You ought to thank me,” the doctor murmurs, resting the stethoscope against my chest. “Andrew wanted to dissect you, shrink you, force you to meet with him once a week. But I intervened.” He pauses for a moment and looks up at me, his eyes hard and unyielding. “Don’t fuck this up. If you break any of the rules, Andrew will have you kicked out.”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t. Not really. Certainly not about you. But I do love getting under Andrew’s skin, and you’re the perfect vehicle for making that happen.”
Not surprising. Someone else is using me for their own gain. But at least we’re both in agreement on how much we want to take the good shrink down a peg. It’s the only reason I’m willing to go through with this and not let out so much as a peep. It will be my way of taking a shit and shoving the shrink’s nose in it.
If all it takes to drive him to distraction is to be a model dominant, then he will for sure eat every word he’s said, either to me or about me. I refused to talk to him about my past. None of it is his business. I refuse to go back into his creepy room with all the disarticulated -Beauchêne, if I remember the term correctly - skulls and bones.
What happened between Ryker and me is between his corpse and me. If there is a God, perhaps it’s between him and me as well, though, no doubt, it’s more than likely God doesn’t give a damn about any of this. From the moment my lips touched Ryker’s cock, the devil took up residence on my shoulder and started running the show.
Scanning the small crowd, I shove out any thoughts of religion and focus on the task at hand. The doctor pokes and prods, bringing old wounds back up to the surface, like an oily film that slides to the top of a submerged pan.
However, since the doctor seems so keen on using me to get back at the shrink for whatever reason, it only makes sense to thwart him as well. If I go and see Andrew on a weekly basis, on my own terms, it will be like killing two birds with one stone. I’ll probably piss off Mr. Smiley since Shrinky Dink will undoubtedly blab about it to everyone, undoing all of the good doctor’s hard work. Likewise, I’ll piss off Shrinky Dink because I’m going to give him nothing. Win-win.
Besides, just because I go, it doesn’t mean I have to talk. No one said talking was part of the bargain. If by some miracle that quack can pull things out of me, then he’s welcome to it. I’m happy to let him claim any demon he can wrestle to the surface.
Since I’ve seen him once, I know his tactics. I know how he pushes to get a reaction. With this newfound knowledge, I can keep control, spin the narrative. If need be, I can weave a fantasy that helps him sleep at night. God knows I’ve spun enough stories to fill hundreds of books. This will just be one more.
A Diary to Doctor Andrew. He can fill in the blank spots, twist them to fit his notion of me. Give him a bone and let him slobber over it. A small smile twists my lips as the doctor goes about his examination with no clue of the mind-fuckery I have planned.
He continues to touch me, poking and prodding, nearly discovering internal adhesions but backing away before he gets too close. I ignore the pain, both physical and mental. All I need to do is hold onto that haven. But it dances just out of reach. I feel everything and am forced to endure it in silence. There’s no way this doctor could know the horrors beaten into my skin. He has no idea about the agony tattooed onto my bones and muscles.
He’s just doing his job, and that job just happens to include torturing me. I don’t go to hospitals or see doctors. There are just too many chances of people finding out the secret life I led. Ryker had special men that would come over to take care of me whenever I was injured, and in return, I had to pay them back with my body.
At least this doctor hasn’t demanded that type of pound of flesh from me, but there’s still no guarantee he won’t take sexual liberties during his part of the initiation. Honestly, I’ll be shocked if he doesn’t. I’m pretty sure Mistress Bitch will have no problem taking advantage.
Even now, as this actual doctor slides his hand over my skin, I bristle under the contact. It’s far too close to their touch - the “doctors” Ryker brought in. It’s far too knowing. The need to push him away claws at my insides, robbing me of breath. It has to be over soon. It just has to be.
I can take the punishment. I have methods in place for that, but simple touching? I have no defenses. A touch meant a job well done. It meant something akin to love-making as opposed to just savage fucking. It’s the light touches that threaten my calm because they always come before the storm.
After a moment of looking me over, he pulls out a notepad and a pen and starts to jot stuff down. Just like the damned quack. It’s infuriating and unnerving to be studied like this, as if I’m an insect for them to dissect.
Once more, his hands skim up my body to study my arms. For a few more moments than I like, he studies the burn marks. He twists and turns my limbs as if to get a better view.
“Wanna picture so it can last longer?”
For a moment, he pauses, his finger lingering on the faint scar. “Were these consensual?”
“What do you think, genius? Think I have a kink for burning myself?”
“Hey man, I don’t know you or what you like. That’s between you and Andrew.”
My lips curl into a sneer as I study the shrink, his beady eyes studying every move. Lifting up my chin, I address the rest of the people gathered there. “Foster homes. Care to take a wild guess as to how that went?”
All but Doctor Andrew turn away, their eyes filling with shame for staring too long at the car wreck that is my life. Without another word, Mr. Smiley runs his nail over the raised skin, studying me as he continues to caress me. It’s not unpleasant exactly, but it’s still uncomfortable.
It’s bad enough that I’m being forced to show myself to these strangers, revealing the few marks Ryker managed to leave, but it’s even worse that Doctor Bradley keeps touching me, teasing me with phantom sensations that do nothing but make my dick hard and my brain buzzy.
Soon enough, he drops his hand, and air fills back into my lungs. But all too soon, he’s at the front of my pants, his hands fumbling with the belt. That’s a step too far. Pushing him back, I glare at the man and cover the front of my jeans.
“Wanna tell me what you’re doing? Or is this part of the initiation? I don’t recall giving you permission to touch me like that.” Glancing back at the dean, I smirk. “That is unless consent doesn’t actually matter.”
“Oh,” Shrinky Dink growls. “It matters.”
“Then tell your doctor boy over here to back the fuck up.”
The moment Doctor Andrew takes a step forward, Dean Anderson steps in, keeping his body wedged between us. “He’s just examining you, son. Just like a physical.”
And there’s that word again. Seems like it’s being thrown around far too much for my liking. What hurts is the expression on his face, the air of concern that wafts off of him, as if he actually cares, actually worries for me. Thankfully, I’m not his to worry about. I can take care of my own damn self.
Staring Mr. Smiley down, I unbuckle my belt and slide it through the loops, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning my pants. “Usually, when I go in for a physical, I’m allowed to take my own clothes off.”
Pausing, I push them down to the floor and step out, leaving me in my boxers. My erection is still there, still hard. Part of me knows that I should be ashamed, as if that’s the right response, but I don’t care about right. If they want to see me, examine me, then they can take a good look at my hard cock. It’s the one thing I’ve never been ashamed of.
Even Ryker thought it was a good cock. It tents up the fabric of my boxers, and I glance over at the bitch that dared to touch me. Her eyes linger on the bulge, and it brings a spark of happiness to my cold, dead heart. Seems even she’s not immune to a nice dick.
Easing my thumbs under the elastic, I slide my boxers down to join my pants, leaving me in all my God-given glory. To her credit, she tries to hide the lust swirling in her eyes, but she can’t fool me. I’ve seen that look far too many times to know exactly what it means.
I turn her way and slide my hand from the base up to the tip, groaning as I caress the head. “Is this what you wanted to see? Do you want to inspect my cum as well? You know, just to make sure I’m healthy enough to fuck your precious submissives?”
With a smirk, Mr. Smiley writes in his notebook. “The blood work we did on you when you first arrived tells us that your cum is healthy. But now, I need to actually get a closer inspection.”
“Whatever gets your rocks off, doc.”