Page 10

10

LAVINIA

When Dorin comes to my cell with a bowl of breakfast the next day, I have gained some more perspective and realized just how fucked up everything that happened yesterday is.

It’s just a matter of time before Dorin will take advantage of the situation and force himself upon me, and I have to do whatever I can to prevent it.

“I want to see the doctor in charge,” I say, sitting up straight to feel more assertive.

He doesn’t even answer as he comes to stand before me.

I try not to let his intimidating size and terrifyingly cold gaze deter me, but keeping my spine straight beneath him is impossible as I speak again.

“I’ll tell someone what you did.”

He lifts a brow and huffs, but I refuse to give up this easily.

“You can’t do this, it’s il—”

“It’s illegal?” he cuts me off.

“Immoral, wrong, and all that shit. Is that what you’re gonna say?”

Gulping, I nod.

His jaw ticks as he crouches in front of me, sets the bowl on the floor, and grabs my chin.

“You might not like the kind of therapy we offer here, but it’s the only fucking one you’re getting.”

“I don’t want it. I never consented to any of this.”

“Do you really think your consent matters?”

“I don’t care, just let me out of here.”

“Do you?” he demands, raising his voice as he digs his fingers into my jaw.

“Yes. I mean. No,” I blurt, and fuck, that last word hurts.

Because, of course, it doesn’t.

He gained the right to override my consent the moment I slit my wrists and became a danger to myself.

“But that doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want. It’s not right what you did yesterday.”

Leaning closer, he says, “Like I told you, that’s the way we do things around here.” Then he releases me.

But I’m not half done.

“I want to speak to your supervisor.”

Ignoring my stubbornness, he scoops up a spoonful of porridge and holds it to my mouth.

“Eat.”

“Not until you let me talk to someone in charge.”

Grabbing the top of my head with his huge hand, he holds me in place as he presses the spoon to my mouth, smearing porridge onto my lips as I refuse to part them.

His cruel force is so humiliating that I throw up my hands and push at his arm, making the spoon fly to the side, porridge spattering over the padded floor.

“Goddammit,” he growls and snatches my wrist in a bruising grip.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me,” I squeal, clawing at his fingers.

He simply grabs my other hand too and gathers them in one big hand that easily encompasses both my slender wrists.

I struggle to get free, but it’s useless as he lowers my arms toward the mattress, twisting them into an awkward angle that hurts at the slightest movement.

Using his free hand, he takes his phone from his pocket and calls someone.

“Get me a straitjacket,” he orders.

The person on the line asks something, and Dorin answers, “Number one.” He’s about to put the phone down, but adds, “ And all the gear to go along with it.”

“Let me go,” I beg as we wait.

“You’re hurting me.”

Dorin is unyielding, keeping me in the strained position until an orderly comes rushing with a pile of things that he sets on the floor beside Dorin before scurrying off again.

The way he keeps his eyes averted and hurries off makes me think he’s afraid of Dorin.

But before I can process the notion, Dorin has my right arm stretched out, shoving it into a white sleeve.

A new sort of urgency drives me into a frenzy as my fingers end up in a closed sleeve.

A straitjacket.

“No!” I yell, refusing to take this humiliation.

The full brunt of being at a mental facility is finally catching up to me.

I might have attempted suicide, but I’m not crazy.

I’m not so out of my mind that I’d bang my head against the wall or claw at my own skin.

They don’t need to keep me in a padded cell.

They don’t need to give me fucked-up electrotherapy, and they certainly don’t need to put me in a straitjacket.

Tugging at my arm, I try to pull out of the sleeve, but Dorin is strong.

Terrifyingly so.

I’m a mouse caught in the claws of a lion as he forces my left arm into the other sleeve.

Within seconds, he has the thing on me and shoves me to my stomach.

Humiliation unlike any I’ve ever experienced claws at my insides as I flail without gaining anything.

With a knee on my back, he easily closes the buckles.

I try to claw and grab at him, but the closed sleeves and my trapped position render my fight utterly pathetic, and I feel like I’m actually going crazy as I start to scream.

“Stop! You can’t do this! I have rights!”

He hoists me up on my knees, and I writhe and jerk as he pulls my arms through the vertical strap at the front, then shoves me back onto my stomach and buckles the sleeves on the back.

Tears pool in my eyes as I tug at my arms, only to meet the tight resistance of the trapped sleeves.

With each pull, I sink deeper into the humiliation until I barely feel like a person.

Yet I can’t stop fighting.

Because it’s the only thing that keeps my last sliver of dignity intact.

“Open your mouth,” Dorin says, pressing a hand to my back to keep me still as he holds something in front of my face.

As I see a black rubber ball on a leather strap, everything inside me freezes.

I go still, barely breathing, as I watch the thing.

“No, please,” I finally manage.

“I’ll be quiet. I’ll be still.”

“Open. Your. Mouth.” His voice lowers to a raspy growl, more beast than human, and terror is an icy bucket of water that freezes my resistance.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I part my lips.

Shoving his fingers into my mouth, he pries it farther open and pushes the ball inside.

Tears leak from my eyes as he pulls the straps around my head and buckles them together, locking the ball in place between my teeth.

I’m not the type of person who cries a lot.

I learned to stay strong for my baby sister when our mother got sick and I had to earn enough money to keep us in our house and keep us fed, and I’ve learned to do things that tore my pride to shreds when I lost both my mother, sister, and our home in one cruel twist of fate.

I’ve begged in the streets and I’ve sold my body without shedding a single tear.

Not even Zoltan, with his cutting knife and burning cigarettes, could draw more than a few drops from my eyes.

I wouldn’t allow it.

But somehow, the things this man does to me are worse than any other.

His humiliations cut deeper than a knife on my skin.

It sears into the very core of my being, tears me open, and breaks me apart.

Zoltan violated my body, but this man violates my soul.

And he’s not even done yet; he picks up another item and pushes my legs apart.

I want to fight—close my legs and kick at him.

But I can’t.

My limbs are paralyzed as I lie there, reduced to an animal with no rights.

The tears come faster as he prods something smooth at my pussy.

Finding my opening dry, he moves the thing back, and the pfft sound as he spits only drives the humiliation deeper.

I weep as he prods the now wet item at my opening, jerking as he shoves it—the head of a dildo—inside.

Clenching my inner muscles, I try to block further advance, but as he moves it back and forth a few times, my muscles loosen, and he slides it in.

Slowly, the wide thing drags along my inner walls, awakening unwanted sensations in my sensitive folds even as the dildo scratches at my dry walls.

Dorin hums as he pushes the thing in place.

“This will make you feel better.” He grabs the bottom strap on the front of the jacket, pulls it between my legs, and straps it on the back, effectively keeping the dildo in place.

The remaining crumbs of my resistance disintegrate in a flood of defeat.

My tears soak the mattress, and spit drips from my mouth around the gag as I lose myself to utter grief.

Dorin carefully moves me onto my back and positions me as comfortably as possible.

I close my eyes tight as he strokes the hair from my face and wipes at the tears and drool on my cheeks.

“This will help,” he says in a gentle tone as if he truly believes it.

I shake my head, but the movement is feeble.

“Look at me,” he urges softly, stroking my cheek with the back of his wide hand.

When I don’t respond, he repeats, “Look at me, little songbird.”

I let my eyes fall open, and meeting the brown depths of Dorin’s gaze is startling.

They hold an almost compassionate expression that slips straight past my tattered defenses to nestle at the very root of my starved being.

“Such a pretty songbird,” he says.

No further degradation or smearing my helplessness in my face.

His words are gentle and honest.

It’s more than I can take.

More than I can resist.

Giving in to a bone-deep grief, I lean into his hand and weep, seeking comfort from the same man who broke me.

“This will help,” he repeats, pressing a button on a small remote in his other hand.

My eyes widen as the dildo comes alive with soft vibrations.

Vibrations that are like sweet caresses on my insides.

“Just give in to it,” he coaxes as he keeps caressing my skin.

“It will all feel better if you do. I promise.”

With all logic and reason crushed under a heavy load of defeat, there’s nothing left for me to fight off his words with.

Not even the will to resist.

Because I badly need something—anything—to mend this broken feeling inside.

So I give in to the humming vibrations and nod as I fall captive to the soft promise in his eyes.

I sniffle and swallow repeatedly to try and control myself, but there’s nothing I can do.

Spit keeps dripping from my mouth, and soon, snot slips from my nose too.

“It’s okay,” he says, turning his hand to curve his warm palm around the side of my face.

“Just give in. I’ve got you.” He presses the button again, turning the vibrations up higher.

I press my head into his hand and close my eyes as tingling sensations erupt at my core, awakening my tired body and humming in my nerves.

Turning the vibrations up another notch, he puts the remote away to curve his other hand around my face too.

Warmth engulfs me as his enormous hands cover both sides of my face.

It’s comfort and protection.

Affection and care.

I soak it up like a starved cat as I sink into the sensations.

The heat, the humming, and the heaviness in my body.

I let it sweep me away to another world.

A place where dignity, hopes, and dreams don’t matter.

It’s light and freeing—to let go of everything that has always burdened and disappointed me.

To open up and let this man take it all away—take everything away to give me this.

I’m not even sure what it is, and it doesn’t matter as tingling sensations pulse at my core and sweep through my body while his steady presence engulfs me and takes away the pain.

The sensations swirl and expand as the dildo keeps vibrating against my sensitive core.

Liquid heat gathers around it, and my muscles soften and contract as my whole body seems to pulse along with it.

Moans form behind the gag, mixing with my whimpers as I cry.

The crying doesn’t feel as strained anymore.

It’s no longer a burden.

It’s freeing.

My back arches as heat coalesces deep within my belly, and I strain against the straitjacket.

Even the tight constriction is no longer oppressive.

“I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just let go,” Dorin says, and as I push my arms against the tight sleeves again, it’s more like a warm hug than a cruel humiliation.

It sends a wave of energy straight to my core, making my toes curl, and when I repeat the motion, I come apart.

Sweet relief washes through me in a wave of heat.

I moan.

Long and deep.

A freeing sound from the pit of my belly.

“Look at me,” Dorin says.

As I open my eyes and stare up at this stranger who has reached deeper inside me than anyone else, I feel new.

Cleansed.