Page 24 of Writhe
She squirms under the collar, her breath catching in her throat. Her thighs rub together as she moves and her fingers curl against the floor like she wants to dig through it, disappearing into the cracks. My grip tightens on the leash. I feel lightheaded, like I’m floating outside of my body. Like I’m watching myself from far away.
This isn’t real.
But Eliza’s body is warm. The leather is firm in my hands. The Doctor exhales slowly. “Good,” he murmurs. “Very good, Theo.” I hate that I feel something twist inside me at the praise. Like I’ve done something right. Like I should want more.
I swallow hard, pulling the leash just slightly, just enough to make Eliza pause. She freezes, her breath catching, and something inside me clenches.
The Doctor leans forward in his chair. “Praise her, Theo. She’s been so good for you. You want to be good for me too, don’t you?”
I nod, looking down at Eliza, my voice barely above a whisper. “Good. Girl.” It comes out awkwardly, my feet shifting as I try to please the doctor.
Eliza makes a sound—a soft, choked thing. Something that shouldn’t make heat coil in my stomach, but it does.
The Doctor smiles. “Now reward her.”
I frown. I don’t understand.
His gaze drops. I don’t want to follow it. I don’t want to see what he sees, but I do. And my stomach clenches. Her thighs are trembling, pressed together, the muscles tensed like she’s trying to stop something. She’s shaking, but not just from fear. My skin heats.
“Eliza, are you wet?”
She freezes and my pulse slams against my ribs. I can feel her humiliation from here, rolling off her in waves.
She doesn’t answer.
The Doctor’s voice turns, knowing. “I think you are.” He sighs like he’s disappointed but not surprised. “It’s perfectly natural, you know. A woman like you, one who resists control when, deep down, you crave it more than anything.”
I watch Eliza’s fingers dig into the floor.
“I bet you’d feel much better if you just stopped fighting it. If you let yourself enjoy what you so clearly need.”
Eliza tenses.
The Doctor tilts his head, studying her like a specimen under glass. “Theo,” he says, “check for me.”
My breath locks in my throat.
No. No, I can’t.
“Spread her legs and see how wet she is.”
Eliza’s entire body jerks and a strangled sound crawls up her throat. I don’t want to move, but my body betrays me.
Because the doctor asked me to. Because I want to be good.
I reach for her and she lashes out. Not hard, not violent. But she grabs my wrist, her nails pressing into my skin, her breathing ragged. “Don’t,” she whispers, her voice a broken little thing.
Have I broken my doll this easily?
Her eyes are wide, desperate, pleading. I could stop this. I could say no.
The Doctor exhales. “Eliza,” he warns. “Do you want another punishment?”
I feel her shudder. Slowly, her grip loosens. She doesn’t say anything—she doesn’t have to. I touch her, parting her thighs gently. My fingers brush against her white underwear and I feel it instantly.
She’s soaked.
The fabric clings to her, damp and ruined.
