Chapter 4
A wicked smile turns up the edges of my lips at his words. That is one thing I have been very forthcoming about in my sessions with him. I am a self-proclaimed masochist and I enjoy pain. Not just during sex, but all the time.
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.
There is no escape from this hold or this position at all.
His eyes collide with mine from his position crouched down in front of me, and a sinister grin lifts his lips.
“Have you ever experienced an orgasm from pain alone?” he asks as he stands, walking back around to stand behind me as my brow furrows.
“No. I didn’t know that was possible.”
My confusion is evident. I’ve enjoyed pain for a very long time, but I usually need internal and clitoral stimulation along with the pain in order to achieve an orgasm. Without the pain, it’s become very difficult for me to come. Not impossible. But very, very hard.
“It’s not common, but it is possible.”
I hear the metal from his buckle jangling, then the slow slide of leather being pulled free from his pants. My entire body breaks out in cold shivers. No longer just from the cold air pumping into this room like a freezer, but in excited anticipation.
My head lifts, trying to look over my shoulder, but I can’t see him. I can feel him standing behind me.
He lightly kicks my legs out, legs spread wide, so my entire body is pressed flat against the table and my pussy is on full display.
I feel so vulnerable in this position, but the excitement for what’s to come overrides that feeling completely.
I’m okay with a little vulnerability every now and then as long as I get what my body so desperately craves.
My body tenses up, and I’m getting wet waiting on the first strike, but it doesn’t come.
The room is completely silent–just the sounds of my panting breaths and the whirring air conditioning.
If I didn’t know Dr. Graveheart was in here, I would have thought he had left from how absolutely quiet he is.
The seconds rolling by feel like minutes, while my heart rate skyrockets and my breathing escalates from the excitement and anticipation.
Shifting my feet out wider to find a comfortable position, but I am unable to find one.
My socks keep slipping on the tile floor as my ass wiggles with the effort to stay the way he wants.
Still nothing.
My head moves back and forth, still trying to see over my shoulder.
Silence and still no movement.
I feel him standing there. I feel his eyes watching my every movement. It’s like a physical caress, but one that could lead to punishment.
“What are y–”
Before I can finish my sentence, I feel the strike just below my ass cheeks, right where my thighs meet the full flesh of my ass.
The sting makes me scream louder than I’ve ever screamed.
Before I can even stop, another lash across the same place, but this time a little higher, where I feel the sting on my pussy.
I jolt forward as much as possible, my body trying to escape, but the way he has me fastened down to this table with his tie, I don’t have much room at all.
A few seconds pass, and the leather of the belt slashes through the air again, but this time a little higher.
The sting across the supple skin of my ass feels the brunt of this strike.
It feels like he’s using even more strength behind every hit than the previous one
The longer we seem to go, the more force is behind the swing.
This fucking man is stronger than I expected.
The next lash has just the belt directly over my pussy, and being this wide open, I feel my clit throb. “F-fuuuckkkk!” I yell.
I feel his hand pressing into the small of my back, pinning me harder into the table.
That’s when I realise I’ve been arching, trying to curl my ass away from the next lash.
People think masochists don’t feel pain, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
We feel it just as sharply as everyone else, we just happen to crave it.
And holy fucking Hades…do I feel it right now.
I have to admit this man delivers on his promises of bringing me pain.
His fingertips dig into the covered, open wounds along my lower back that Andy inflicted, making me hiss. I arch my back the opposite direction trying to get away from the intense searing pain of those cuts reopening.
I tuck my lips into my mouth and release a muffled scream again.
Leaning down, hovering close to my ear, I can feel his minty breath ghost over my sweaty face.
“What’s wrong, Katarina? You fucking wanted this. Didn’t you?” he asks. I’m breathing so heavily with my eyes slammed closed as I shake my head because I’m not able to answer. I’m not even sure he’s expecting a response.
Holding me down on the table, I feel him shift as he swings his arm back, and the belt hits once again.
This time, it’s angled from how he’s standing over me, so the corner of the belt wraps around my outer hip, smacking it hard.
When I scream this time, I feel like my throat is going to bleed from how harsh the noise leaves my chest.
I hear him bark a deep, sinister laugh.
“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. The hand 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.
“Our time is for me, Katarina. It has been and will always be just for me. And I think our next session will be even more eventful.”
“I doubt you could’ve made me come anyway. Selfish bastard,” I retort, making him chuckle, as he pulls the door closed.
Are you fucking kidding me? Leaning down, I gently pick up the new clothes he threw at me. Now that he’s had a taste of torturing me, what will he do next? I need to get the fuck out of here.