Page 9 of Heal Me

Flapping my hands against the table, I try to signal for him to stop.Not again! It’s too much!His eyes roam to my hands, and as if to prove just how little control I have, he presses the button again.

Zap!

I scream into the bite block as all my muscles go rigid. More tears form in my eyes, but I refuse to let them spill.

I can’t breathe,I try to say, but the words die, breaking into a staggered sound as my stuffed mouth can’t form them.

Zap!

More pain jolts into my nerves, making me spasm, the straps digging into my hips. The air in my lungs grows scarce as I draw shallow gasps through my stuffy nose. Black spots dance in my vision, and I know I’m going to faint if he zaps me again.

There’s a rustling noise beside me. I vaguely notice that he’s moving in the room, but my eyes are too blurry to tell what’s happening.

Something presses against my face, and I strain against the leather strap to turn away from it.

“Breathe,” a deep voice says above me. “This will help.”

I pull in a staggered breath, and my lungs calm a little even though my nose is still stuffed and my breathing shallow. Repeating a few times, I find that the need for air eases, and I realize it’s an oxygen mask he’s holding to my face.

Relief is a small gust of wind that takes the edge of the panic. But nothing will make it go away entirely as I await the next jolt of electricity. I tense against the straps, blinking my moist eyes up at my tormentor as I try to gauge when he’ll press the button again.

His expression is closed off and unreadable as he stares back at me, taking in every nuance of desperation and terror written across my face. He just stands there for a while, watching me, before he loosens the head strap to pull the elastic band on the mask over my head. With the mask in place, he buckles the strap again and returns to sit between my legs.

I keep panting, feeling devastatingly helpless, unable to move an inch, unable to form a single protest. Not even with Zoltan did I ever feel this powerless. He would always let me fight him and allow me enough leeway to at least try and pull away from the lashes of his belt when he tied me up. I even got to choose between the horrors he inflicted upon me sometimes. But here, the powerlessness cuts particularly deep.

When Dorin removes the wide strap that keeps the probe in place, my breathing calms somewhat at the prospect of him removing it. Deep down, I know it’s not over yet—if he was done, he wouldn’t have fastened the mask—but I need to believe, if only just for a few seconds, to calm the violent beating of my heart.

A new wave of horror crashes over me when he presses the rubbery end of a long device to my clit. A magic wand. Thesame type of vibrator Zoltan used to push me close to the peak repeatedly, only to stop the moment I was about to go over. It was a special kind of torture, sometimes even worse than his knife. He’d keep going for hours, leaving my body hollow and weak, yet forcing it through another strenuous rise toward an orgasm, only to end it in a hard crash.

I want to demand to know what he’s doing. This is a psychiatric facility. He can’t use me sexually. He just can’t. If I told his superior, he’d get fired.

I want to scream this at him, but part of me knows how ridiculous it would be.

His boss is probably as immoral as him. The man who came in here earlier didn’t bat an eye at the scene unfolding before him. He even saw Dorin poke a finger into my ass. No, I’m fucked. I’m truly trapped now. With Zoltan, I always had the choice to run away, but here, there’s no escape.

Zap!

I convulse against the straps as a current of electricity stronger than the previous slams against my inner walls. A scream tears from my throat as my eyes roll back. The pain is numbing, and I think it’s going to knock me out. But then the vibrations start, and a new sort of sensation awakens my body, forcing me to stay conscious.

I try to fight it. The same way I did so many times with Zoltan. But just like then, there’s no ignoring the pulsing sensations thrumming against my sensitive clit and rippling through my core. I’ve always reacted strongly to this kind of stimuli, and this man is going to take advantage of it just like Zoltan did.

Mournful whimpers form in my throat. It’s all so hopeless. My body awakens, slowly but surely, humming with the need for sweet release that I know I’m not going to get. My whimpers turninto moans, and soon, I’m bucking into the straps for a whole different reason.

Something simmers in my tormentor’s eyes. I’m not sure what it is. Triumph, power, maybe lust. The sick bastard enjoys this. Even so, I try to beg him through my eyes—to not zap me again, to let me come, or remove the vibrator before I’m close.

Shame clenches my chest as pleasure twists and twirls at my core, dragging me dangerously close to the edge. I shut my eyes to hide as I fail to suppress a loud moan. I brace for the disappointment—or maybe relief—of him cutting off my orgasm. But he never does. He lets me fall over the edge. But just as I moan my release into the bite block, a zap jolts against my insides.

I cry out as pain tears through my core, but it’s not as violent as before. It’s like the pleasure cushions the blow, and as the jerky sensations recede, I realize I’m as needy as before. The vibrations keep pulsing against my clit, and with the remaining sensations of the electric current still humming at my core, I crash straight toward another orgasm.

Zap!

This time, the jolt doesn’t cut off my orgasm. Rather, it seems to feed it. I come apart in a burst of sensation as painful as it’s ecstatic. Fireworks explode in my brain as I moan and groan, scream and wail into the block. It’s too much. I spasm against the straps, almost cramping everywhere.

When I blink my heavy eyelids open, my vision is swimming, but I can clearly make out the wide smirk on Dorin’s face. Part of me wants to smile back because I just experienced the greatest ecstasy of my life. Another part of me wants to curse him for taking advantage of my vulnerability and finding enjoyment in my torment.

Being too weak to do either, I let my eyes fall shut again.

But Dorin isn’t finished. Far from it. He takes my body through four more rounds of ecstatic pleasure and painful torment. Once he removes the probe and starts unbuckling the straps, my body is weak and covered in a slick coat of sweat, and I’m barely even cognizant. Yet I don’t feel exhausted in that bone-deep achy way as when Zoltan was finished with me for the night. This is a floatier kind of sensation as if I’ve just been freed from the strain and stress of my body—or finally found release from all those denied orgasms.

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