Page 51 of Writhe
Where is he?
Will he come out of the shadows and take me? Whisper my name in that low, knowing way that makes me feel like I belong to him and only him? Or am I truly alone in this world?
The air settles heavy, suffocating. The silence stretches, filled only by the soft ticking of the clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
It’s the only sound I hear as the doctor pushes me forward over the chair, my bare skin flush against the cold leather. My wrists tremble where they grip the armrests. The air is thick, stifling, pressing against me like unseen hands.
His hands.
“Doctor . . .” My voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears it. I know he does because his palm drags slowly over my exposed ass, possessive, lingering. Then?—
Crack.
A sharp, searing smack lands across my right cheek, and I lurch forward, gasping.
“You don’t need him, pet. You only need me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the words sink in, wrapping around my ribs like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
He’s wrong.
He’s wrong, but my body betrays me, arching into his touch, responding even as my mind rebels. “You’re wrong . . . I need . . . both.” A mistake.
His chuckle slithers down my spine. A low, ominous thing, thick with menace. Behind me, I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, the slow rasp of leather sliding free, then the sharp metallic clink of his zipper. My stomach twists.
Theo isn’t coming. Theo isn’t going to save me. Theo won’t be the one to touch me tonight. It’s just the doctor.
“You don’t think I know what the both of you have been doing behind my back?” His tone is different now.
Another slap—harder this time, jarring, burning. I cry out, my knuckles whitening as I grip the chair, my breath hitching in sharp little gasps. His palm lands again. And again. A punishing rhythm. Skin meeting skin. “Please, stop . . . please.” The words fall from my lips, shaking, broken.
But he doesn’t stop.
“You’re going to take this punishment, pet, and then I’m going to pump you full of my cum and throw you back into your room to think about what you’ve done.”
His words slam into me—humiliating, final.
“You don’t get to come, you don’t get to touch yourself, you don’t get to feel an ounce of pleasure without me observing you.”
I barely have time to suck in a breath before his palm collides with my face. My head snaps to the side, my cheek blooming hot where his hand landed. A shocked whimper slips past my lips, my vision blurring for a split second.
“What part of that don’t you understand?”
The Doctor grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him, my neck craning in an unnatural way that makes me whimper.
His fingers trace the sting on my cheek as my skin blooms under his touch. The contrast is dizzying. One moment, punishment, the next, reverence. But I don’t pull away. There’s nowhere to go.
“Say it, my sweet little pet,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple in something that mimics tenderness, something that almost feels real if I let myself believe it. “Say you love me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I can be kind. I can give you everything. You only have to love me. Love me like you love Theo—like you told him. He told me, Eliza. He told me everything.”
