Page 15 of Heal Me

Stepping back into the room, I expect an attack as the guy tries to retaliate, but he just lies there. Leaning down over him, I press my fingers to his pulse point and find a steady beat.Good,he’s just out for a minute. I was looking forward to this, so it would be a great disappointment if I had accidentally killed him. I always do enjoy the aftermath of beating up one of the trainers, seeing the way the others cower when I pass them in the halls. The few strikes with my baton weren’t enough to have that effect on Jan, but I’ll make sure to remedy that today.

Taking a seat on the chair in the corner, I wait.

It takes longer than expected for him to wake up, but I don’t mind. The humming anticipation in my body is almost as good as the beating itself. My cock is already twitching in my pants.

Popping the top button on my jeans, I decide to give it some attention to pass the time. I wrap my hand around it and stroke gently as I imagine my fist connecting with flesh again and again. My eyes fall shut as I imagine beating the guy to the ground and towering over him as he lies there whimpering.

At some point, my train of thought shifts. New images mix with the violent ones of blood spilling and bones snapping. My little songbird appears before my inner eye. Trapped in the straitjacket and at my mercy. Eyes lost and vulnerable as she whimpers around the gag. Moans forming in her throat as she fails to resist the pleasure I force upon her.

I groan as my dick swells and my balls draw up. I pick up speed, stroking harder, slowing down again as I’m about tocome. I want to save my orgasm for when Jan wakes up. So I keep going like that for a while, pumping my cock until I’m close to the edge, then slowing down to languid strokes.

I’m close to the peak when something moves before me. I open my eyes to see the small, pudgy man come barging at me, fist raised in the air and eyes full of fury. I lean to the side just in time to avoid his fist breaking my nose. Slamming my hand onto his throat, I throw him forward. He falls to the ground and slides two feet across the floor, groaning from the rough landing.

He’s not giving up, though. I have only just buttoned my pants and pushed to my feet when he charges again.

I shake my head at his predictability. His fist is already in the air and aimed. There’s no element of surprise.What an amateur.Just as he thinks he’s going to get me, I lift my own fist and shove it into his gut. I barely need to put in any force since he has done all the work for me, coming running full speed and slamming himself onto it.

He doubles over but throws a punch anyway. It’s uncoordinated and sloppy. I don’t even need to sidestep. I kick his legs out from under him and wait for him to crawl to his knees before I deliver the next kick. It takes six more punches and kicks before he stays down. Then I deliver a few more, making sure not to break any important bones. I only break his nose to get back at him for him trying to break mine. Once I deem him on the verge of consciousness, I sink onto my knees behind him, pull him up on all fours, and hold him there as I take out my knife. Slipping the blade under the hem of his pants, I cut them open to reveal his ass crack. It’s hairy and ugly as fuck, but I don’t care. Parting the cheeks, I spit on his tight opening, and that’s when it seems to dawn on him what I’m about to do.

The realization sends a new burst of adrenaline through him, and he struggles like a squealing pig as I press my hard cock against his opening. But he can’t escape my vise-like grip on hiships, and no ass is too tight. Eventually, I always get in. It takes a few minutes of more spitting, prodding with my fingers, and hauling him back into position when I release him to use my hands.

Finally, I have the tip inside and am advancing. His walls clench me tight as though he’s milking me and not trying to push me out, and I shove his head to the ground to let the hard stone swallow his pathetic screams as I start moving in and out. Fucking heaven, a tight virgin ass like this. I close my eyes, and there she is again. My sweet songbird. I wish it was her ass and not some pathetic idiot as I pick up pace and my balls start to draw up.

The orgasm is disappointing, to say the least. I try to imagine her soft skin, but all I feel is the coarse hairs on this prick’s rough skin. He squeals and screams as I shoot my load inside him. It’s annoying as hell, and I deliver a few more kicks to his side to punish him for it before I leave to go wash the blood off my dick.

12

LAVINIA

A few days of quiet routine, time passing in a sort of mindless haze, is all I get before Dorin announces the next violation.

“Time for therapy,” he says in a clipped voice as he comes into my cell sometime after feeding me the second bowl of porridge of the day.

“You don’t need to do this,” I protest, but my voice is weak as I lift my hand to dry the tears gathering in my eyes. Since the episode with the straitjacket a few days ago, it’s been a constant battle to keep them at bay, and my fight has drained wholly and utterly. I spend hours upon hours sleeping, and whenever Dorin comes into my cell, I meekly follow his instructions, opening my mouth to let him feed me and now getting off the mattress to let him take me to get electrotherapy. I don’t know why. Part of me thinks I’ve fallen into a deep depression, but as he closes his strong fingers around my arm, I feel this urgent pull that begs me to sink into him and seek that same comfort he gave me after he’d shattered my dignity—and set me free.

I want to feel that again. Badly. But as he leads me down the hall, all I can think about is the terrifying pain of the electrotherapy.

I’m trembling, my legs threatening to give in, once he opens the door to the medical room.

“Please,” I try one more time in a weak voice at the sight of the horrifying chair with the stirrups and all the straps.

“This will help you,” he insists, spurring me on with a small push at my back.

I scoot onto the chair, not knowing what else to do. It’s all so very hopeless.

Dorin straps me in tight like the last time. Arms, legs, chest, stomach. So many straps I can barely count. A tight knot keeps growing in my throat to the point where I can barely breathe. I feel faint and nauseous by the time he grabs the bite block from the side table.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

“I don’t feel so good,” I tell him weakly.

His impassive gaze roams over my face, and the harshness of his features seems to soften somewhat as he watches me. A line forms between his brows, and it almost looks like worry. He pushes the bite block in place, nonetheless, when I slacken my jaw and part my lips.

Next comes the thick layers of roller gauze to keep my mouth shut and the bite block in place.

I squeeze my eyes closed to block everything out. Defeat is a heavy weight on my chest as Dorin presses my head into the seat and pulls a final strap over my forehead.

At that moment of searing helplessness, there’s only one thought in my mind. Regret. Deep, aching regret.

---