Page 11 of Damaged
It’s one of the reasons I get tattoos. Pain reminds me I'm alive. Plus, I love the knowledge of having pretty designs that not everyone can see.
“We've discussed my proclivity to pain, doctor. Why keep going down this path?" I question, testing his resolve.
“Your need for pain fascinates me. I want to know more.” Lifting his hand, he rubs his forefinger under the edge of his bottom lip. The way he looks at me tells me so much. But now I want to hear him say it.
“I'm sure other patients of yours have spoken about something like this. Why ask me?”
His eyes never leave mine, and the sadistic glow in them seems to radiate even hotter while the side of his lips kicks up in a vicious smirk. My body heats up under his attention, and my insides begin to vibrate in anticipation. The air is electric with possibilities as my thighs tighten.
Uncrossing his legs, he spreads them wide, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, still staring up at me. His eyes move over my body, and the hunger in them is evident. This man, who doesn't show an ounce of emotion, is allowing me to see this savage part of him.
Will he act on his desire?
Will he give me the pain and pleasure he knows I so desperately crave?
Or will he be the psychiatrist that we both know that he isn’t and deny us both?
“Because, Katarina…I would like to introduce your masochistic side to my sadistic side. And see how well they play together.”
“Well…I don’t play well with others. Or so I’ve been told,” I reply with a smirk and a little shrug.
Placing his hands on his knees, he pushes himself up to his full height. He has to stand well over six feet. He carries an air of masculinity that requires no need for validation. My mouth salivates, and my entire body vibrates at the prospect of everything hopefully to come.
Will he hurt me?
Will he choke me?
Will he make me bleed?
Fuck…I’m getting wet at just the thought of what he could do to me.
Shrugging off his white lab coat, he drapes it over the chair he just vacated and begins rolling up his shirt sleeves. He takes a slow, calculated step closer to me as the veins and muscles in his thick forearms ripple.
His emotionless steel blue eyes meet mine as he loosens his burgundy tie, pulling it free. The sound of movement sends shivers through my body. Everything he’s doing builds the expectation and anticipation even more.
“Step down,” he orders in his deep, commanding voice. I do as he asks, needing to know exactly what he has planned for me. “Now…turn around, facing the table.” Twirling his finger in front of himself, he lets his eyes roam all over my body again.
It’s like he’s studying a blank canvas just before creating a disastrous masterpiece of torment and hedonism.
Standing tall with his spine straight, he has this dominating aura that just pushes me to do as he says. It’s crazy when I’m normally so rebellious by nature, but I’m so curious right now and my curiosity supersedes my disobedient ways.
Walking around to the other side of the table from where I stand, he faces me, holding out his hand with an expectation of compliance. My eyes immediately drop to it, wondering whether I should take it or not. If I know anything at all about Dr. Graveheart, he’s a patient man but still requires compliance to his demands.
While I study his proffered hand, he stands still with his burgundy tie hanging from the other. He quirks one eye brow in expectation of my submission. My eyes move between the two hands, my body giving an involuntary shiver as I hesitantly lift my hand, placing it into his.
His hand is soft and warm, such a contrast to everything I have experienced from him prior and nothing like what I expected. When his fingers wrap around mine, I feel the strength in them, along with the possibility of danger.
As soon as he gently pulls my arm toward him, the look in his clear blue eyes changes, and I finally see the maliciousness again I have come to expect with a promise of suffering, torture, and all the pleasure my body craves from it.
He starts to wrap the tie around that wrist, cinching it tight, making me hiss. Realizing my wrist is still raw from where Andy had me tied up, he gives a little smirk. But Dr. Graveheart doesn’t ever go easy on me, and the lifting of his lips is the only indication that he heard the little noise come from me.
I’m feeding his sadistic side just as much as he’s granting my masochistic side a taste of what it wants.
I do believe he will enjoy this just as much as I will, possibly more since I get the hint he doesn’t let his brutal side come out to play very much.
After my one hand is secured in his tie with a knot that I know I won’t be able to break out of, he pulls my arm taut as his free hand whips out grabbing the back of my head by my hair and slams the side of my face into the table…hard. Releasing a loud grunt from the impact, I squeeze my eyes closed as I hear him give a deep chuckle.
Squatting down in front of me, he wraps the tie around something at the base of the table, then secures my other arm so I am now laid over the table with my ass in the air, unable to move. Pulling and twisting my wrists, I can tell he’s definitely done this before and is well-versed in knots.
