Page 52 of Bells
“Winded? Worn out? Weary?” I listed off on my fingers. “Whatever you wanna call it.”
“Who saysweary?”
I shrugged. “Dr. Lambert… probably.”
“Probably,” she agreed as she slid to her knees. I reached out to catch her, and she shoved my hand away while I realized too late what she was doing. Her fingers tugging on my zipper as she pulled my dick free.
I looked out towards the empty street before glancing back down at where her head was already bobbing, her tongue moving side to side and twirling around at the tip, and her palm working the base while her teeth clanked against my jewelry.
I had nothing to lean on but I didn’t care enough to move, so I widened my stance and locked my knees. Yanking her ponytail and guiding her faster. Then slower. Then faster again. She gurgled whenever I went a little too far, spit pooling in her cheeks and leaking down the corners of her mouth. Both warm and cool as it trailed lower and dripped off my balls. Her chin and my hands as I gripped her up by the throat and stroked my fingers along the muscles there, encouraging her to go deeper, swallow more. Forget about breathing and take me all the way down.
She started to struggle, digging her nails into my thighs as I stepped forward and forced her neck to bend back at an odd angle, her throat opening wider the harder I pushed. Her eyestilted towards the night sky and mine aimed at her face. At the panic she was trying to hide from me, same as the fact she was tired.
She looked so small in this moment, so broken and so determined not to show it. She could fight me off. Even with her hair wrapped around my fist, I wasn’t holding on all that tight. She didn’t want to, though. She wanted me to surrender. She needed it. She needed my cum down her throat. She needed to taste it. She needed the control.
I might have been the one standing over her, but she was the only one who had the power to end this. And I wasn’t gonna give it to her easy. I liked it too much to stop it now. And she liked it too much to tap out.
Keeping her head pulled back, I brushed the hair sticking to her forehead aside. She was dripping sweat. Like she was dripping everywhere else. Her thighs clenched together beneath her and her knees continuing to grind against the sidewalk as I drove my hips in and out. I enjoyed most things fast. Cars, food,drugs.
But not this. I enjoyed this slow. Torturously slow.
“You aren’t the least bit afraid of somebody seeing us, are you?” I grunted, as I drew my cock back, letting it rest on her lower lip. A long, thin spiderweb of spit pulling and popping when I flexed. “Seeing you on your knees for me in the middle of the street… Begging for it… You weren’t bothered when your friend was watching us either. That’s it, ain’t it?” I grinned and forced my cock back down her throat. As far as it would go without having her puke it up at me. “You like putting on a show…”
She gurgled her response, and I didn’t care enough to figure out what it was because I liked putting on a show too. My cock must have liked it more. Because it chose that moment to empty itself all over her and me and our clothes and the sidewalk.
Bellatrix shoved at my stomach and carefully rose to her feet, about as wobbly as I was when I reached a hand inside my pocket and tossed another diary page at her shoes.
She bent down to pick it up. “What’s this for?” she asked, her thumb wiping at the side of her mouth. A white streak already drying on the collar of her black shirt.
“For not using your teeth.”
“And what if I did use my teeth?”
“Then you would have gotten two,” I said as I tucked my wet cock away and readjusted my zipper. A few shakes later, I was turning around and walking in the opposite direction.
It didn’t much matter where she went now. But something told me she wouldn’t be far behind my ass after that.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
PATIENT 899: AGE 13 YEARS, 2 MONTHS
It was itchy again. No pain. But so fucking itchy. That was worse if you asked me—no one ever did—because I couldn’t feel how deep I was going whenever I did scratch at it. Then one of the scabs would peel off, a stitch would come loose, and Doc would have a coronary. His face turning red and steam coming out his ears. His little glasses fogging up and those age lines getting deeper in his forehead.
I didn’t care about how mad he got. It was funny to watch him try to keep it all in. But it did get annoying to hear the same spiel over and over. He never switched it up. Not a word. And I was pretty sure he did it on purpose.
I dropped my hand before my nails got any redder and pulled my hospital gown closer to my chest. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t notice the blood on my fingers when he busted through that door in five… four… three… two…
“Good Morning, Casper.” My name. Not the three-digit number they assigned me when I got here. That was on purpose too. He wanted me to trust him. And it worked. I did trust him.But only slightly more than I trusted anyone else, which was not at all.
“Morning, Doc.” I offered him a salute, quickly hiding my hand back under the blanket when I spotted the red streak on my middle finger out of the corner of my eye.
It was too late, though, because Dr. Lambo had caught it.
He didn’t say anything, just quietly tsked his tongue and jotted something down in that little chart of his. It was different from the regular hospital charts the other docs kept around here. This one had his personal notes. Everything he did to me with or without the higher-ups knowing.
That part wasn’t different. All of 'em had some sick obsession with poking around my spine. All of 'em kept the off-the-books shit they did to me to themselves. But not for the same reasons as the man in front of me did. They didn’t write it down. They hid it because they were worried what the rest of the world would think; he hid it because he was worried whattheywoulddo. And because he was worried they would try to stop him.
The truth was… none of them really wanted me fixed. They wanted me more broken. They wanted to keep twisting me up like a wind-up toy until I finally snapped and all the parts stopped working. Then they’d move on to something more shiny.
