Page 9 of Straightjacket

It’s fucking crazy how a single item of clothing can bring back so many vicious memories.

My gaze never leaves the meek looking nurse as she closes the space between us, her gaze fixated on the floor. She must feel the weight of my stare because not once does she look up at me, and I’m not nearly nice enough to stop scrutinising her.

It would be so easy for me to crush her into the ground the moment she unlocks the cuffs, but I also have no idea what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door, or what will happen to Iris if I lash out. My hands are quite literally tied, forced to be compliant until I know exactly how to get us out of this shithole.

“I’m going to check your dressing, and I have some clothes here for you to change into. I wouldn’t try anything either, there’s a camera in this room recording everything and there’s an armed guard outside of that door. Do you understand?” She lifts her gaze from the floor, her face clear of any emotion.

I wonder if she knows what really happens here, or is she too cut off from humanity to even care? I’m going with the latter.

Me too. They’re all fucking crazy here.

I snigger at the voice. It would seem he’s just as pissed as I am.

“Is something funny?”

I shake my head and chew on the inside of my lip. “Nah. Do what you have to do.”

She nods and places the neatly folded jumpsuit on the end of the bed, then begins to pull the sheet down from my stomach until it stops incredibly low on my hips. The handcuffs clang against the metal bars, causing her hands to freeze.

“Pull that sheet any lower and I’ll cut off your tits and blend them into soup.” I say through gritted teeth, catching the way her breath hitches at my threat, the slight tremble in her fingers as she releases the sheet and proceeds to pull a pair of latex gloves from her white coat pocket.

Blending tits into soup, that’s a new one for you.

I contain the grin and mentally reply. “It’s the first thing that I could think of, plus, Iris would probably appreciate it.”

That’s true. So, let’s get this over with and find her.

I couldn’t agree more. It would seem that we’re getting along like a house on fire. Maybe he’s not all bad.

Keeping my face stoic, I watch on as the nurse unwraps the fresh dressings from out of the sanitised plastic and places them neatly on the bed, then once she’s happy with her layout she brings her hands over to my stomach. Instantly my muscles twinge at the contact from her fingers when she begins to pull away the corners of the dressing, the sticky residue pulling at the tender skin.

Inch by inch, the intricate black tattoos on my abdomen are uncovered, revealing the gunshot wound that’s been stitched up like a blanket. A thin line, roughly around six inches in length slices straight through the crow tattoo, slicing clean across its neck.

I roll my eyes at the sight of it because I worked really fucking hard on that one, and now I’m gonna have to fix it.

An idea sparks to mind, maybe my little demon would let me tattoo her? Her arms are already covered in beautiful, traditional prints and vines, but I could always find space on her legs, maybe her ass. Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.

“Erm,” the nurse fumbles, then drops her gaze towards my crotch where the sheet has lifted slightly, the apples of her cheeks flushing red. I follow her eyes until I land on my erection, propping up like a tent.

Every single time that I think about her, that happens.

Thank the fucking lord that still works.

“Don’t flatter yourself, love, it’s not for you.” I say with a bored tone, causing more redness to bloom across her cheeks and neck. She quickly averts her gaze and rips the rest of the dressing away, forcing a hiss to escape between my teeth.

Ooh, she’s not a happy bunny.

I bite the flesh inside my mouth to muffle the snigger. “She’ll be a skinned bunny soon if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up.”

We could always turn her into a rug? Ooh, what about a pair of slippers?

“I think she’d make a great rug, and I’m sure Iris would love a new pair of slippers.” I grin at the mental image of me stitching the nurse's skin and filling the insides with fluff. And if you want my opinion, which you probably do, a homemade gift for your girl is what gets your dick wet, believe me they love this kind of shit.

Do you think Iris would let us start a craft club?

I widen my eyes at the voice, a blubbering laugh slipping past my lips.

The nurse looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, the clean dressing hanging between her fingers. “Is... something funny?”