Chapter Twenty-Two
Declan
Iscream my protests, begging the doctor to talk to me about the recording he just played. I have to know more. But he won’t so much as look at me.
Without acknowledging a word, Dr. Campos presses another button on his desk and the retracting wall slides back up, blocking the glass wall between us, and cutting me off from the conversation.
I consider throwing a fit, but I know it’s pointless.
Thrashing against the wooden pole to which I’m still chained is futile.
She has nightmares like me. She’s being haunted by a nearly indescribable thing. How can this be?
Crack!
“Come back to me, Missster Roberts,” Miss Paxon commands, and it does the trick.
I quickly focus on the vinyl-clad bitch who is evidently in charge now.
The smile spread across her face is eerie, and I bet it has something to do with the collection of items she has collected atop a small folding table.
I have some just like it at home. Though, mine are generally for when I eat in the living room during a game or when I have company…
“What now?” I ask, nodding my head at whatever she’s gathered for me.
“You know, Missster Roberts, you talk a lot,” she says bluntly.
She doesn’t expand on her observation. Instead, she picks up something from the little tray and steps out of sight to my left.
It’s black with straps, and there’s something dark and round in the center.
I couldn’t really tell what it is before she disappeared behind me somewhere.
Her heels shift directions when she steps directly at my rear. She isn’t touching me, not yet, but I can feel the energy emanating from her body, and I sense her breath between my bare shoulders.
“You’re going to be a good little boy,” she whispers. “Aren’t you, Missster Roberts?”
“What the hell are yngh—” I’m cut off when she clasps her hand over my mouth, pressing something hard and rubber, like a ball, between my teeth. Having caught me unawares, Miss Paxon yanks hard before fastening the straps to the ball gag at the back of my head. “Ffth pppmmk.”
Fuck.
My jaw aches as she forces my mouth to stay open around the ball. I attempt to spit it out, but the straps hold it firmly in place. I glare up at Miss Paxon, my eyes wide with indignation and shock.
She smiles, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she steps back to admire her handiwork.
"That's better. You talk too much when you should be listening."
I make muffled sounds of protest, pulling at my restraints. The rope around my wrists bites into my skin.
“Perfect,” Miss Paxon boasts with a hint of a smile highlighting her attitude.
“I know the doctor said you’d be untied to eat, sleep and use the toilet, he-he.
” She chuckles, not bothering to try to hide the joy this is giving her.
“But I think we need to teach you a lesson for your first… well, second night.”
“Bllph.” My brain hasn’t registered that’s not an option yet.
“Shhhh.” Miss Paxon blows a warm hush in my ear, and then I feel her hand on my naked ass. It’s gentle at first. Warm and tender. “Mmmmmm,” she moans, giving my cheek a little squeeze.
Things go quiet for a breath, followed by squishing sounds in her mouth, then a moist sort of rubbing before she palms my full peach with wet hands. There’s a faint whoosh with a nearly immediate sensation of dampness at the base of my back.
Did she just spit on me?
She uses her thumbs to rub the saliva into the skin at the peak of the crack of my ass, taking care to spread it further with all her fingers. I’d probably like it if I wasn’t ready to shed my skin and pass out, I’m so fucking scared.
“Relax, Missster Roberts,” she says, right on cue. “This is just a taste,” she adds while pushing my cheeks open and spitting directly on my puckered hole.
“Nnnrrrr.” The gag steals my objection.
Miss Paxon massages her slobber over and around my sphincter, pressing one tip after another on the center like a little button before hacking another glob to help lube me up.
“Now, Missster Roberts,” she whispers with a kiss.
“Breathe deep.” I don’t bother to comply, but she won’t be deterred.
A moment later I feel a slight burn when she slowly slides a finger inside my anus, then retracts and repeats.
She isn’t violent about it, but it’s humiliating all the same.
My knees shake in fear, and I want to cry, but shock has me seized in place.
She pushes further and twirls her tip inside, causing my dick to flinch and my balls to ache in a not entirely unpleasant way, before she finally pulls out.
Normally, I’d have something witty to offer, but that’s out of the question. So, I just stand there. Silent. Afraid, this isn’t going to end.
“That’s a good boy.” Miss Paxon hums on her way to biting my earlobe. Her signals have my fight and flight clashing. I want this to be over. I want to go home. I want to wake up from this awful dream. And I want to know what else she’s going to do with me.
We spend a couple minutes in silence, letting reality settle.
I’m at her mercy. She could do anything she wants to me, and there’s nothing I could do to stop her.
She could grab another toy from the collection and penetrate me over and over, making me thrash and whimper while streams of tears stream down my face and rivers of my own spit flow from behind this gag.
But that’s when I feel it. She’s gone. I don’t know how or when.
But she left, and I’m lamenting or fantasizing about things that aren’t going to happen.
For now, I’m alone. I’m bound to a breeding post and gagged, with aching legs, an ache in my stomach, and terror in my bones.
But, I’m alone. I have no idea what Miss Paxon’s motives are.
Or the doctor’s for that matter. I’m used to nightmares, but this is something altogether different.
Not even my mind could have invented this horror.