Page 47 of Exposed
“Why are you doing this?” She shivers. “Please, Daddy?—”
“The only way to be saved, to be fixed, tohealis to fully accept yourself. You need this.”
She rams her hips toward me, close to orgasm. The dumb cunt is so easy, it’s laughable.
“Now, be a good fuck toy and cum for me,” I say. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”
I reach down between us and pinch her clit; her body convulses, a moan bursting from her throat. I fuck her pussy as hard as I can, hurting her with my cock. She sobs, but her orgasm is strong. Like a beast being slayed, she moans with defeat, falling over into nothingness.
I take my cock, mysword,from the beast’s womb. I kneel over her surrendered form, my cock inches from her face, and I stroke myself.
“Such a fucked-up little bitch,” I murmur.
She whimpers, and that sad noise pushes me over too. I shoot white ropes of cum over her cheeks and mouth.
She closes her eyes. “This is torture,” she whispers.
Amusement swallows me, and I shake with laughter. In the normal world, treatment like this would never be tolerated at any sort of clinic, hospital, or asylum. There are protocols to help patients manage their daily lives, and doctors address their patients like equals; mainstreamsociety strives for that sort of equality. In comparison, the world outside of this asylum is a utopia.
The Wellard Asylum exists on a different axis though, where no one dares enter, not unless they want to disappear. There are so many acts of cruelty and violence within these walls, and yet my sweet one is hardly beginning to understand the extent of my power. To call tonight torture is humorous. Forcing her to eat my ass and take my cock is merely the beginning.
I step out of the cage, close the lid, then lock it again. Violet’s jaw drops, no doubt disturbed by the distance between us.
This is where she will remain every night until she finishes her stay at the asylum.
I reach through the bars and lift her chin. A drop of my semen wets my finger.
“This isn’t torture, sweet one,” I say. “I’m saving you from yourself. This is a form of humanity.”
The next months are filled with forced orgasms and tears. By the time Violet finishes her intellectual training, she’s stripped of her name and given a new title:freak.
There is so much I wish to explain about her transformation into her truest form. The vomit, the feces, the corpses, the brutality, and the tears. So many tears, I could fill a dam.
Alas, this is only the beginning, a teaser of what’s to come. You’ll have to wait for the rest.
Eventually, I bring the freak to my home and chain her to the floor. It’s exactly the motivation I need to return home early, especially on my last day at the Wellard Asylum.
I place my laptop and computer drives into a cardboard box, collecting every last trace of my presence at the asylum. Usually, the practice is to leave these types of devices and files behind; Dr. Halstead knows my preferences, and he’s a smart man: he’d rather not aggravate one of the men who could potentially ruin his life by exposing his facility’s secrets.
The asylum will run as usual, and I willembrace my second career as a human doll creator at the Pure Companion Company. Though I haven’t implanted the newest microchip into the freak’s brain yet, I will soon. The freak has already fully surrendered her submission to me. I trust the Founder will be quite pleased with the results.
On top of that, the Founder has an excessive amount of specimens waiting for the transformation from human woman into Living Doll. Thus, if he isn’t completely satisfied by Violet’s transformation and ready to begin processing our preorders, then I can experiment on other specimens until I create the perfect doll.
Either way, the freak will remain mine alone.
Oliver trots behind me, carrying an additional box to my car. We add my belongings to the trunk, then I slam it shut.
My assistant is coming with me to the Pure Companion Company. I need his expertise until we finalize the microchip.
Then, I’ll discard him.
We shake hands. “Next week,” I say. “At my home laboratory.”
Oliver nods. “I’m looking forward to it, Doctor.”
The commute home takes longer than I would like; I’m incrediblyeagerto return to my favorite experiment.Still, I suppose I’ll miss my work at the Wellard Asylum. I enjoyed breeding the patients and observing how each of my children have flourished or failed. It’s been a guessing game whether they needed to be nurtured into deviance or if the depravity began at their core. Sometimes, I gave a nudge here. A push there. And other times, I gave complete distance until they reached the mature age oftwenty-five, like I did with the freak. Mostly, that is. I could never truly stay away from the freak.
I’m fortunate my future will continue to include breeding specimens; the Founder has assured me I can impregnate some of the women—the sows, if you will—at the company’s partnered human farm. However, my relationship with Dr. Halstead is such that if I wanted to find another patient to breed, I could return to the Wellard Asylum, find the lucky whore, and bring her to my home.
Then again, I have no need to impregnate other women, at least not sexually; there are other fertilization methods I could use. The freak keeps me sexually satisfied, and I know how the dumb cunt would react if she saw me breeding another woman. Even without the involvement of my cock, knowing my semen has been inserted inside of another pussy will be hard enough for her as it is. Though I enjoy torturing my sweet one, I like fuckingonlyher. That way, our connection remains pure. What I’ve accomplished is man’s god-given right over the earth. And with her, I am a manandgod.
I arrive at my house. My pulse quickens. I’m excited to see what happens. Soon, the freak will be fully transformed into my Living Doll.
And I’ll enjoy every second of it.
