Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The exam table is cold against Laura's bare back. The paper crinkles beneath her as she shifts, trying to find a position that doesn't feel like surrender. She stares at the ceiling, counting the tiles. Fourteen. Still fourteen. Doctor Anderson's hands move between her legs, slow and deliberate.
She has stopped pretending. She knows what this is now. She knows what he's doing. And she keeps coming back.
This appointment is different. He doesn't use the dilators.
He doesn't use the wand. He just touches her, slow and intimate, like a lover.
His bare fingers slide through her wetness, exploring, learning.
He knows her body now. He knows exactly where to press, exactly how hard, exactly when to pull back.
"Tell me what you want," he says.
Laura's breath catches. She's never said it out loud. She's never admitted it to herself.
"I want to hear you say it," he says. His fingers curl inside her, finding that spot. She gasps.
"I want you to make me feel good," she whispers finally. "I want you to make me forget."
He smiles. She can hear it in his voice.
"That's what I've been doing all along, Laura. Helping you forget. Helping you let go."
His thumb circles her clitoris. His fingers work that spot inside her. The pleasure builds fast, too fast. Laura's hips buck against his hand, her body moving on its own.
She realizes, with a sickening clarity, that he's right. Every appointment, every touch, every orgasm. It's all been about erasing her fear, her shame, her self. He's not just treating her. He's dismantling her.
She comes with a cry, her back arching off the table. The orgasm rips through her, sharp and overwhelming. But he doesn't stop. His fingers keep moving, relentless, pushing her higher.
"Again," he says. "I want to feel you come again."
She tries to shake her head. It's too much. She can't.
"Yes, you can," he says. "Your body knows what to do. Stop fighting."
He reaches for the wand with his free hand. The vibration hits her clitoris, and Laura screams. The second orgasm crashes over her before the first has fully faded. Her whole body convulses, her muscles clenching around his fingers.
"That's it," he murmurs. "You're so beautiful when you let go. So responsive. So perfect."
Laura is crying. She's not sure why. The pleasure is overwhelming, but so is the shame. She feels like she's drowning, like there's no bottom, like she'll keep falling forever.
He doesn't stop. He works her through a third orgasm, then a fourth. Each one leaves her weaker, more shattered. She can't think anymore. She can't remember why this is wrong. She can only feel.
Finally, he stops. He withdraws his fingers slowly, sets the wand aside. He helps her sit up, his hands steady on her shoulders. He wipes her tears with a tissue, gentle, fatherly.
"You're not broken, Laura," he says. "You're just learning. And I'm honored to be your teacher."
She looks at him. At his kind eyes, his warm smile, his steady hands. She realizes she's in love with him. Or maybe she's just dependent on him. Or maybe those are the same thing.
She knows it's wrong. She knows he's manipulating her. But she can't stop.
"Is this real?" she asks. "Do you actually care about me?"
He pauses, considering the question. For a moment, she sees something flicker behind his eyes. Something cold, calculating. Then it's gone, replaced by that warm, fatherly smile.
"I care about your progress, Laura. I care about your healing. That's what matters."
It's not an answer. It's a deflection. But Laura clings to it anyway.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she says.
Doctor Anderson squeezes her hand.
"You're my patient," he says. "And you're doing beautifully."