“You will conduct yourself as a physician. Am I clear?”
I lean against the far wall and examine my nails, not even giving him my gaze. I know if he saw me, he’d see the lust swirling through me, threatening to overwhelm my senses. He can’t know. No one can. Once someone knows your weakness, that’s it. God help me, but my patient is starting to get to me. I remain cool, detached, unaffected as I buff out an invisible ridge in my nail bed, almost ignoring James.
“You can’t expect me to be professional when she’s here, ripe for the taking. What’s the point of being in this society if you can’t enjoy the perks?”
I glance up, an unfamiliar tendril of rage climbing up my spine, threatening to choke me on the ash as it burns me from the inside out. I shove off the wall and walk over to a chair where I placed any items I might need for this initial session, forcing my brain to douse itself and stop its infernal burning. I don’t even know this woman. There’s no call to want her so desperately. But as I hazard a glance back, my stomach twists and churns, like a live wire or an eel wriggling about deep in my guts. She’s so delicate, so moldable. Perfect.
“You can play hide the thermometer with any other patient you choose. I’m demanding you leave her out of your depraved games.”
“Oh, so you can do a Freudian slip and slide into her pussy? What makes you think she’ll even want you?”
I grab the straitjacket from the chair and walk back over, running my fingers over the exposed cleavage that taunts me, begs me to rip the fabric away so I can run my tongue over her skin. At my touch, she flinches away, her eyes fluttering more and more with each passing moment.
“Shhhh. I’ve got you,” I whisper, locking eyes with James as I let my hand drift lower to grab her right breast. Instead of shying away, her lusty moans fill the air as she angles her body towards me.
She’s so responsive, but I know full well that once she’s conscious, it will probably stop. Given from Chelsea’s report, this drug makes you dream up fantastical scenarios - each feeling real. It’s the in-between times, when you actually glimpse reality, that it fucks with your mind. Pulling back, I rip the sheet from her body, revealing god-awful, white cotton panties.
Jane shivers from the unexpected cold, and goosebumps race up and down her body. Ignoring her discomfort. I hook my thumbs into the waistband and yank the offending fabric off her body, tossing them to James. I know what he must think, and I don’t give a fuck - see above the aforementioned field. I have none to give. I can’t even muster one if I wanted to. I have decided to make her my pet for now and, therefore, must acquaint her with how things will be from now on. No time like the present to make my wishes and intentions known.
“I want these burned and a suitable pair brought in. After her examination, I want her in something delicate, decorative, just like her.”
“I’m not your lapdog Andrew.”
“And yet, I’m sure you want to see her in something pretty just as badly as I want her in it. Don’t lie. I see the arousal drifting off of you in waves. I don’t even have to be intuitive to see it.”
Grumbling, James fists the underwear and steps out, not wanting to miss her first moments of awakening. I groan as I ease myself down at the foot of the bed, shoving any pressing thoughts of my erection out of my head. I can’t let this first meeting go wrong because my dick is hogging all the blood. With deep inhales, I let my mind drift to Dr. Freud and start mentally reciting factoids about the man and his teachings. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough to soften the situation, making it much easier to sit.
I walk back over to the head of the bed, just as James storms in with a wad in his hands. From the bits of fabric peeking out, it’s definitely an improvement on the snow-white monstrosity she was wearing earlier. He sets them down next to her before sliding the travel examination stirrups under the top mattress and pulling her down to let her weight hold them in place.
Her delicate feet notch just perfectly into the cold, unfeeling metal. For the first time since I’ve known what arousal was, I wanted to take my tongue and slide her sole. Is she ticklish, I wonder? My hard-on is back, and no amount of Freud will get it to go back down again.
Pulling on her arms, I bring her up into a sitting position and pull the straitjacket onto her. She’s way too small. Her ribs stick out, and I can see every vertebra in her spine. She’s no less beautiful to me, but I will for sure keep her dietary needs in the forefront - force-feeding her if necessary.
My cock twitches again, and I stifle a groan. I’m a grown man, dammit, not some randy youth that can’t control himself. I should just listen to my inner voice and force myself to see reason. She’s no good for me. I can see that now. There’s an obsession here that’s building just below the surface. Obsessions are never good.
I pull Jane’s arms around, securing the straps behind before lowering her back onto the bed. I would have preferred to use rope to restrain her, but it’s imperative to set the right tone from the start. I need to convince her that her medical health is at stake, and it’s not just me acting on my wild perversions. She’ll feel much safer that way and make it all the easier to mold her to my desires.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Probably not, but I always prefer to err on the side of caution. She’s high on some unknown drug, with two men she doesn’t know, in a foreign place - I fully expect her to go into full-on hysteria and don’t wish to see her harm herself.”
I pull up on Jane once again and slide in behind her, letting her head and shoulders rest on my thigh. For a moment, I allow a small indulgence and run my fingers through her hair - just as soft as I imagined.
Again, my mind is flooded with all the things I want to do to her. All the things she could be in my life. They love their delusions as they love themselves. Freud’s words haunt me, and I long to shove her out of my lap and walk away from the whole situation - hell, even let James take a crack at her. But I can’t.
Some dark, perverse need slithers inside me, demanding I claim her, mark her, make every inch of her my own until she cannot breathe without my name rattling about in her skull. The lust I feel is completely intertwined with hate. Hate that I feel so much for this unknown waif. Hate that I burn just from the idea of touching her. Hate that she threatens to make me lose myself when I don’t even have a foothold in her mind.
She threatens my very sanity. The things I would do to her - for her. It’s a madness that’s eating me up from the brain out. Delusional. That’s the perfect word for what I feel. She will never be mine. Just a plaything to heal and to destroy before sending her out to play with the other monsters.
My only job is to fix whatever fissures are in her mind and soul, only to hand her off to someone sure to break her even worse. Closing my eyes, I forcibly dissociate. Instead of concentrating on Jane Doe, I engage with James, discussing new advances in pain theory and how one might train the mind to accept more and more discomfort.