Page 6 of Exposed
Since I stepped into the asylum many years ago, it has been my goal to discover whether perversions are inherited or nurtured. Once I determine the answer with each of my patients, I use them to learn how to control women. When a woman denies her own bodily functions, her desperation becomes the perfect energy to fuel my experiments. It’s amusing; if they embraced who they are, they wouldn’t have such energetic troubles.
It will be interesting to investigate firsthand whether Violet’s traits are similar to her mother’s. Violet has never known her biological mother and father; therefore, any perversions she may have arenotnurtured by her parents, but are instead completely rooted in her natural core.
I may have had other specimens to experiment on before, but Violet is the first one to truly captivate me. Her desperate need for degradation is deeper than any other patient I’ve encountered.
A knock rattles the office door. I close the files and adjust myself. “Come in.”
My assistant enters. His glasses fall down his nose. “Benji and the…girl are here, sir.”
The girl.
It’s such an innocent description of Violet. In my assistant’s eyes, her supposed boyfriend, Benji, deserves a name, butsheis no longer a woman. She’s an inferior girl, undeserving of a name. In some cases, he prefers to call my patients “specimens,” giving them no agency at all.
A name is such a useful tool. For now, it will give Violet dignity and identity. Eventually, I’ll use it to fully transformher. Even a smart, vicious woman can fall victim to a manipulative tool.
In the end, Violet will be nothing more than a pathetic doll.
I nod curtly to my assistant. He closes my office door, leaving me alone for a few moments. I inspect my office a final time, ensuring the double-sided mirror is still hidden behind the curtains.
A young woman like Violet would enjoy someone watching over her from afar, wouldn’t she?
With that in mind, I scribble a note inside of her mother’s file to encourage those instincts, then I push a panel in one of the bookcases, revealing a small passage to the exam room. I place her mother’s file in a worn cabinet, letting the edge of the folder hang out, ensuring it will draw Violet’s attention later.
I return to my office, close the bookcase door, and slowly open the door to the waiting area. Finally, I’ll get to see my sweet one in the flesh, and soon, I’ll test her vaginal decency.
I’ll fuck her with my fist.
The couple stirs in their sunken chairs. I meet Violet’s eyes, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me. She peeks up through her thick eyelashes, her deep brown, almost black irises like poisonous frogs hiding at the bottom of a deep well. The subtle scent of her anticipation floats through the air: ripe cherries dipped in sugar. Her dark roots stripe her blonde hair like a path marking her skull.
A pleasant shudder runs through me. Her grown-out hair roots are a reminder of the staples I’ll eventually use to put her skull back together again.
For now, she remains whole.
I turn to her supposed boyfriend. “Benji.”
“Dr. Ambrose,” he murmurs. He keeps his eyes lowered.
I address Violet next. “Your boyfriend tells me you were recently fired from your job due to sexual compulsions.” I scrutinize her down my long, hooked nose. “You will follow my assistant to the exam room. There, you will undress and wait for the initial examination.”
“Undress?” Violet squeals, her high-pitched tone slicing through the air as she sits up inher seat. “Why?”
My cock twitches, and a hint of disgust snarls across my face. Surely, she should have expectedsomethinglike this in her case, but perhaps she is shocked by the immediacy. Only seconds after meeting, I’m already ordering her to undress.
She squirms in her seat, ready to bolt. I stifle a grin; this restless behavior is simply a symptom of repressed desire.
I clench my jaw. “All inpatients undress for their physical exams,” I state. “You must go through a series of exams to ensure the safety of yourselfandthe staff. You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you, Violet?”
Her lips twist, her forehead furrowed. “Inpatient? Who said anything about staying?” She stands and crosses her arms. “My condition isn’t about my body. It’s about my mind. I’m not undressing for an?—”
I swiftly grab her arm, maneuvering her like a puppet. She shrinks, and her fear and arousal swirl in my head: berries at the first sign of rot. There are so many possibilities when it comes to someone as bottomless as Violet, and this resistance and surrender is a part of the foreplay she craves.
Benji cowers in his seat, and my assistant waits by my side. Violet bares her teeth at me, hatred practically leaking from her bones. It’s laughable. I grit my teeth and lean in closer to her.
“Even if you do not plan to hurt yourselfor me,” I say, my tone biting, teasing her with the potential, “you will soon understand mental apprehensions like yours often exhibit in the physical exterior. Our examinations of these perversions are part of our protocol here. Wemustendure these recalibration techniques if we wish to heal your behavior.”
Violet’s breathing hitches, and her putrid scent stinks up the air even more. Fear. Arousal.Need.
In my periphery, I catch my assistant smirking. I hide my amusement, and instead, I adjust my shoulders, which bolsters my expression of irritation and disgust. I’m not disgusted though. In fact, I’m quite pleased with this verbal interaction with Violet. Her resistance will be entertaining, and it will teach me more about conditioning others like her.
