Psychiatrist's Puppet (Loftry University Playthings 3)

He brings my other hand up to my chest and stares at me a moment, breathing deeply in and out. I copy him for a few moments, keeping up the steady inhale and exhale. Each respiration flows in and out with the music. I’m lulled by both the thumping sound and his hands as they smooth over my body. Ice and fire. We are an erotic combination, his heat to my cold. Goosebumps explode over my skin as his tongue traces my neck, sliding up to my ear.

The rope coils around me in patterns I can’t even define, holding me in place, binding my body in a cocoon of safety. Not at all like the other time. Now, I feel swaddled almost, comforted by the rope as loop after loop drapes my body. Exquisite agony and pleasure wash over me as the rope tightens over my skin. Each tie holds me to him, connects me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

My eyes become heavy as I sway back and forth, the ropes the only thing keeping me from tipping me over. I feel weightless and heavy at the same time. My body thrums with arousal as he keeps working me over, adjusting here, fiddling there. It’s like the drug is flowing back into me, but so much better. I’m here. I’m aware. I feel every touch of his fingers like a brand.

Where the drug kept me under, taking away my reality, his ropes do the same but in a safer way. I feel like I’m one with him. The watery sensation comes back as grey tinges my vision, but this time it’s warm, inviting, evocative. I let myself slip inside, wanting to feel everything he can give me. His words buzz at my ear, soft murmurs that barely penetrate the haze.

“Answer me, sweetie. I need your words.”

“Please, Doctor,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion. “Let me soar.”

He slides his hands down my legs, his fingers followed by the erotic sensation of rope binding my flesh. After an eternity, his hand rests against my spine as he tips me back, his other hand scooping up under my knees. Then, I’m weightless. My heart beats faster than I’ve ever felt it before. Panic starts to rise, but he’s there, my dark knight, my sensual tormentor.

“Safe. Secure. Owned. I won’t let you fall. Relax, my dear. I’ve got you.”

I pause, not knowing how. At that moment, I realize all the things that bind me, all the memories, pain, squirming around, refusing to drop at his words. It’s like a writhing mass inside me that takes my breath away. I want so desperately to trust, to give myself over to him. It feels so easy. My brain screams at me to just go under his spell. Become one with him. With a few ragged breaths, I force everything out. All my past worries, all my future longings. Nothing matters. Only him. Only Doctor Rayne.

I let go. Everything flows out of me as I become liquid in his arms. After a few moments, I feel them leave my body, but I’m still there, suspended between time and space. Weightless. He shuffles behind me to lift my head before laying it down in a hammock of some sort. It supports my neck in a way I never thought possible in a contraption like this. For the first time in my memory, I’m calm, unflappable, untouchable.

In Doctor Rayne’s ropes, nothing can get me. Not my past, not my present. Nothing. It’s just him and me. His hands come to rest on my shoulders for a moment, grounding me, giving me an anchor point for my spinning brain. His chest brushes against my scalp as he breathes in and out. My eyes open to find him staring down at me. His gaze is unreadable as usual, but underneath is a warmth and desire I’ve never seen from him before.

My core clenches as I watch him untie his bow tie and leave it hanging around his neck as he unbuttons his shirt. One by one, the buttons go through their loops, and I watch it as if in slow motion. I can’t tell if he’s slower or if time itself is slowing down for me, extending this experience just for me. Soon, his chest is bare, and I long to run my fingers down the expanse of his chest.

As I move, I remember I’m tied up in a way that would make that impossible. Laughter bubbles up my throat, and it feels hysterical, but it’s not. It’s joy. Pure and simple. When is the last time I really laughed like this? It feels odd, but I can’t stop. Even when his eyebrow arches in concern, I just laugh all the harder.

“Please, Sir. Please kiss me. I want you to invade me.” I must be emboldened by the ropes. That’s the only thing that makes sense. With me unable to move, I can’t stop him anyway. The feral smile that crosses his lips makes me shiver, but I’m not afraid. For once, I can just enjoy without fear tainting the experience. He pulls away from my head to go to my side before angling his head down.

There’s a moment or two where we just stare at each other, and the intense warmth of his gaze sears me to the core. Heat explodes over my body as his lips descend to meet mine. Pure bliss rockets through me as he pulls the ropes tighter to him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping out over the seam of my lips, requesting entrance.

I open to him, expecting him to just plow inside and claim me. But he doesn’t. He slides inside, entering inch by inch, each questing motion allowing me to shove him out. Why is he doing this? I’ve offered myself to him; shouldn’t he just take me? That’s what the men would have done, and that’s when it hits me that he’s truly not like those other monsters. Yes, he pushes my boundaries. Yes, he doesn’t allow me as free of a will as I would like, but honestly, what would I do with complete freedom? It’s his ownership of me that keeps me safe.

Groaning, I open wider, shivering as his tongue slides against my own before pulling out, only to start the agonizing dance all over again. In and out. In and out. His movements are smooth, controlled, dominating. He sets the pace for our dance, never once letting me take over. His hands slide into my hair as he grips me, keeping me still for his plundering.

“Do you want to take your punishment now, sweetie,” he whispers against my lips as he allows me a moment to breathe. “Cup or down your throat? You choose.”

I stare up at him, catching a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. I know which he’d rather have, but he’s still leaving the choice up to me. I’ll be punished either way, but he’s letting me dictate how I feel and what I can handle. Tears prick my eyes as I open my mouth, love soaring through me, at least, what I think is love. It’s too painful, too confusing, but all-consuming nonetheless.

Without waiting for me to change my mind, he unbuckles his belt, tossing it to the side in a haphazard way, followed by his pants. I turn to watch them crumple on the ground, the simple act of untidiness a testament to how badly he wants inside me. Reaching up, he undoes my hammock, letting my head lean back further. It only takes a few tugs to get my head facing downward at his erection, and I’m once again confronted by how large he is.

His cock jerks as I study it, a drop of precum welling up to that decadent slit. I don’t wait for instruction. Instead, I stick my tongue out as far as it will go, just until I’m able to lick at that pearly fluid. It tastes so much better coming from the source as opposed to a cup. It’s still bitter but much more manageable.

The muscles in his abs contract as he sucks in a lungful of air at my actions. I glance up, emboldened by the lust flaring in his eyes. He’s messing with the ropes even as he stares down at me. Inch by inch, he lowers me until his shaft is eye level without me having to crane my neck back to reach him. But I would. I would do anything he asked me at this moment just to see the dark, hooded desire in his eyes. Billy wanted me, yes - he was a man after all - but Doctor Rayne craves me. The only thing that held him back was my fragility and nothing more.

Reaching down, he cradles my head in his hands and rests the tip on my lips. He doesn’t force it; he lays it there until I’m ready. A fine sheen of sweat covers his body as he waits for me to open, and I do, ready to try and hoping I won’t fail. As with the kiss, he inches his way in, hot, velvety steel engulfing my senses, ensnaring me further. First inch down. I breathe through my nose, my eyes never leaving his. He stares me down, desire and need waring within him. His body trembles at the effort it takes to go slow and not just shove it down my throat.

Another inch. My lips widen as I open my jaw as far as I can, careful to not let my teeth scrape his shaft. His scent and taste overwhelm me, sending me back to that place the ropes did. I hum in pleasure, drawing a groan out of him. One more inch. My mouth is stuffed full as his tip tickles at my gag reflex. Instead of panic, all I feel is the security of his hands as his fingers tighten in my hair.

He pulls back out, and I chase after him with my lips, not wanting to end this closeness so soon. Pushing on my head, he keeps me in place as he slides back in, going just a touch further until I gag on his length. He pulls back out, surging in just a touch harder. Back and forth, he slides in and out of my mouth, stopping right at the point where I’m gagging. He keeps humping my face, his hips snapping in rhythm with music, hard, controlled, insistent.

After several thrusts, he slides in further, the tip dipping down into my throat. I thrash about, unable to think, unable to breathe, but he’s there with me, his soothing shushes calming the worst of the panic. He pulls back out and slides back in even further. My stomach rolls as the urge to throw up slams into me, but he’s relentless. It’s then I realize that he won’t stop until he’s filled me to the hilt.

My eyes widen as he forces himself another inch. I swear he’s in my actual esophagus, but he keeps up the pace with pulling out and going in up to a certain point until I can handle just a bit more.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s my good girl. Take my cock, sweetie. You can do it. I’m so proud of you. You’re so brave.” His words fill me with an elation I’ve never felt before. My insides flutter as I tilt my mouth just a bit to feel him slide even further in.

At this moment, I want nothing more than his praise. It fills a need in me, a core longing that never surfaced before. Not with Billy, not with my parents, but here I am, craving those words from Doctor Rayne. I’ll withstand hell itself to hear him call me good girl one more time. I gag but force myself to breathe as best I can when he withdrawals. He surges back in, all show of restraint gone as he pummels my mouth. I suck hard, reveling in the feel of his satiny skin as it slides against my tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, his pace faltering. “That’s my good girl. Suck me. Just like that. Good girl. Oh God, yes.” His cock jerks in my mouth as he holds me against him, the short, crisp hairs tickling my nose as he grinds his pelvis into my face. Salty cum pours down my throat, burning the raw, overworked muscles. I keep sucking, taking every bit of him, draining him fully.

After what feels like an eternity, he starts to soften. He begins to pull out, and I whimper against him, not wanting this moment to end. Right now, I’m his good girl, but what will happen when he’s out of me. I don’t want to stop. I love the high of hearing his words far too much. I’m like a woman starved for the approval I never received and not realizing how much it damaged my core until now.

His fingers smooth across my cheek for a moment before his thumb lodges in the space between my lips and chin. “It’s okay. You can let go now.” I shake my head, desperation tinging my thoughts. “Yes, sweetie. Be my good girl and open for me.” As if a trap had sprung, I open, letting him slide out and grip the base. “I want you to clean me up now. Don’t leave one drop.”

I work him over, memorizing the feel of him in my mouth. Once I lick him clean, he starts to work at the ropes again, releasing the hand that had been forced to dangle, and I stare at him, my mind fixating on every little detail. It's as if my eyes have been opened and I’m seeing him for the first time. Every plane of his body is smooth, flawless. As my eyes travel down his legs, I smile at his socks. Most men look ridiculous fucking in socks, but with him, it was sexy as hell. It was further proof that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on me.

Just above the sock line, I catch a glimpse of pearlescent skin, the area a sharp contrast to the skin around it. A scar. Interesting. As my hand lowers, I reach out, running my finger over the spot. Doctor Rayne whirls around, his eyes haunted as he stares at me. I pull back, fearing his ire, but he softens and runs his hand down my cheek again before going back to the ropes.

“My turn.”

Before I can comprehend what he’s saying, he continues his trek towards my feet. I crane my neck to watch him as best as I can, but the strain is too much. I’m too tired and delirious to care at this point. Letting my head drop, I allow myself to just feel. Starting from my head and traveling down, I take note of everything. Who knows when he’ll do this with me again. I need to keep everything I can for those moments when it’s just me. I’m not stupid enough to think this will be forever.

There’s an odd awareness that fills me in the wake of his treatment of me. It’s as if the world has shrunken down into this moment. Everything and nothing is in focus at the same time. The rope pinches my skin, and I let my gaze drift up, noting the various knots and swirls. The craftsmanship is just astounding to me.

Even at my most creative, I couldn’t even imagine something this beautiful. I slide the tip of my finger across the closest rope I can reach, memorizing the softness of the fibers. It’s at complete odds with the texture itself - hard and unyielding - yet it’s smooth and supple, held taut by his will alone.