Page 13 of Damaged
“You. Fucking. Wanted. This!” He emphasizes each word with another hit from the belt. Each hit is over the same spot across the apex of my thighs and my pussy.
My skin is on fire.
My entire body is coated in a sheen of sweat.
It drips down the sides of my face and onto the medical table beneath me.
I can feel the welts forming, and they are throbbing at the same time.
The hits continue and continue and continue. Different places along my ass and legs. A lot longer than I expected. He’s as out of breath from the exertion, as am I from screaming. Thehand he still has on my lower back lifts as he removes it and steps away.
This isn’t erotic pain.
This is pure torture and punishment.
And all at my expense.
Tears are streaming down my face, mixing in with the sweat. My lips are dry from my heavy breathing. He steps around to stand in front of me, grabbing my hair to lift my face off the examination table.
“I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did,” he adds, in his deep monotone cadence.
No emotion.
No inflection.
Pure evil.
“Fucking…asshole,” I say the words between heavy breaths. “That had nothing to do with pleasure.”
“That’s not completely true, Katarina. I took great immense pleasure from doing that.”
I try to shake my head, but I’m too worn out. I can barely move.
“What happened to giving me an orgasm from pain alone?” I ask him. The longer I stand here, the more my backside throbs. Shivers rack my body from the cold air pumping into the room, and my body temperature rises from the exertion, causing my entire body to be covered in a sheen of sweat.
After releasing my hair, he squats down in front of me and begins loosening my hands, but my body is so exhausted that there is no chance I will be able to move on my own right away. After he stands, he shoves his tie into his pants pocket.
Dr. Graveheart rubs his hand over the crotch of his pants, and that’s when I finally see the evidence of his arousal, making my eyes grow large.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Everyone who works here is sick. They lock us away with the excuse of insanity, schizophrenia, or some sort of psychopathy…but everyone on the staff here is batshit crazy as well.
“I never said I would make you come like that. I never promised you an orgasm at all. Now, I, on the other hand…hearing you scream the way you did…” He groans loudly, grabbing his hard cock through his pants. “That is something I will be able to reflect on later.”
Fucking insane.
And they call me crazy.
I’m not crazy…just a little homicidal. But encountering assholes like this in my life, how could I not be?
“Let’s get you back to your room to think about today’s session and rest up,” he says, walking behind me once again. Slowly, I stand, feeling my skin burn and throb. “I think today’s session was a huge success.”
He walks to one of the lower cabinets, opening it to pull out new oversized state-issued pants and shirt. Throwing them at me, I let them hit my chest and fall to the floor, my glaring eyes never leaving his as I begin to massage my stinging wrists.
“Success for who, dickhead?”
He grabs the door and begins to open it, but my words stop him short. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he lets his eyes devour me one more time from head to toe and back again. I can feel his look just as if it were his savage touch.
