Page 10 of Writhe (Wellard Asylum)

My vision blurs. I don’t know if it’s shame or something worse.

Crack . Eliza shakes. Not a lot, just a little.

Just enough. Something dark unfurls in my stomach.

My fingers burn. So does she. My body reacts before my mind can stop it—before I can stop myself.

Fuck. No. No. I shift my weight, but it only makes it worse.

The friction, the tightness, the way my breath shudders in my chest. I don’t want this, but my body does.

I don’t know if she feels it. I pray she doesn’t.

“Three more.” The Doctor’s voice is steady. Watching. Studying.

I force my breath out and lift my hand again. Crack . Eliza makes a sound this time. A choked, angry gasp. Like she’s swallowing something. Like she won’t give him the satisfaction.

I close my eyes. I shouldn’t like this. I should be sick with myself—I am.

But my hands are steady now. My skin is on fire, my chest too tight, my pulse hammering low.

I bring my hand down again. Crack . Eliza shudders.

The sound is soft—quiet—but it digs into me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my cock to stop reacting, to stop wanting.

I don’t. I don’t. I don’t.

“One more,” the doctor murmurs.

I exhale, shaking. Eliza shifts, her body rigid, her hands gripping the armrest of the bench. I don’t want to, but I do. And that makes me worse than him.

Crack.

I don’t know how long we stay like this. Eliza is still across my lap, her body warm against mine, her breathing slow and measured, like she’s forcing herself to be calm. I don’t move. If I move, she’ll feel how wrong this is. How wrong I am.

The Doctor shifts in his chair, adjusting his notepad. “Good, Theo. You’re learning.”

I don’t answer—I can’t. I feel sick.

“Eliza,” he says, ignoring me now. “You’ll be good for Theo now, won’t you?”

She doesn’t answer.

The Doctor clicks his tongue, amused. “I think she’s learned her lesson.” A pause. “Go on, Theo. Walk her.” He clasps the leash to the collar around Eliza’s neck. The remaining lead falls on the floor beside us.

My stomach twists and Eliza doesn’t move. The air in the room shrinks, pressing against my ribs, tightening around my throat. Walk her. Like a dog. My fingers tremble as I reach for the leash attached to the collar.

“Eliza.”

Her jaw is tight, her shoulders are rigid, but she moves.

Slowly, she slides off my lap, her hands pressing into the floor, her breathing sharp and uneven.

She doesn’t look at me and I keep my eyes on the leash—on the floor.

Not the doctor. Not on her. My mouth is dry.

My hands sweat. This isn’t happening. This isn’t me .

But my feet move anyway and Eliza crawls. I don’t know what’s worse—the sound of her hands and knees against the tile, or the way she moves, her back arching slightly, her breathing uneven, like her body is betraying her too.

Like she feels something she doesn’t want to. Like she doesn’t hate this. I keep my steps slow, not making her struggle to keep up as we walk a circle around the room. I can hear the doctor shifting in his seat behind me, the faint rustle of fabric. I don’t have to turn around to know.

I know he’s aroused and it makes my stomach turn. How can a man get off on watching another man degrade and humiliate a woman?

Maybe I should say something to my cock that is currently rock solid.

Guess we are both animals.

She squirms under the collar, her breath catching in her throat.

Her thighs rub together as she moves and her fingers curl against the floor like she wants to dig through it, disappearing into the cracks.

My grip tightens on the leash. I feel lightheaded, like I’m floating outside of my body. Like I’m watching myself from far away.

This isn’t real.

But Eliza’s body is warm. The leather is firm in my hands. The Doctor exhales slowly. “Good,” he murmurs. “Very good, Theo.” I hate that I feel something twist inside me at the praise. Like I’ve done something right. Like I should want more .

I swallow hard, pulling the leash just slightly, just enough to make Eliza pause. She freezes, her breath catching, and something inside me clenches.

The Doctor leans forward in his chair. “Praise her, Theo. She’s been so good for you. You want to be good for me too, don’t you?”

I nod, looking down at Eliza, my voice barely above a whisper. “Good. Girl.” It comes out awkwardly, my feet shifting as I try to please the doctor.

Eliza makes a sound—a soft, choked thing. Something that shouldn’t make heat coil in my stomach, but it does.

The Doctor smiles. “Now reward her.”

I frown. I don’t understand.

His gaze drops. I don’t want to follow it. I don’t want to see what he sees, but I do. And my stomach clenches. Her thighs are trembling, pressed together, the muscles tensed like she’s trying to stop something. She’s shaking, but not just from fear. My skin heats.

“Eliza, are you wet?”

She freezes and my pulse slams against my ribs. I can feel her humiliation from here, rolling off her in waves.

She doesn’t answer.

The Doctor’s voice turns, knowing. “I think you are.” He sighs like he’s disappointed but not surprised. “It’s perfectly natural, you know. A woman like you, one who resists control when, deep down, you crave it more than anything.”

I watch Eliza’s fingers dig into the floor .

“I bet you’d feel much better if you just stopped fighting it. If you let yourself enjoy what you so clearly need.”

Eliza tenses.

The Doctor tilts his head, studying her like a specimen under glass. “Theo,” he says, “check for me.”

My breath locks in my throat.

No. No, I can’t.

“Spread her legs and see how wet she is.”

Eliza’s entire body jerks and a strangled sound crawls up her throat. I don’t want to move, but my body betrays me.

Because the doctor asked me to. Because I want to be good.

I reach for her and she lashes out. Not hard, not violent. But she grabs my wrist, her nails pressing into my skin, her breathing ragged. “Don’t,” she whispers, her voice a broken little thing.

Have I broken my doll this easily?

Her eyes are wide, desperate, pleading. I could stop this. I could say no.

The Doctor exhales. “Eliza,” he warns. “Do you want another punishment?”

I feel her shudder. Slowly, her grip loosens. She doesn’t say anything—she doesn’t have to. I touch her, parting her thighs gently. My fingers brush against her white underwear and I feel it instantly.

She’s soaked.

The fabric clings to her, damp and ruined.

I want to shove my face into her wet cunt and smell her aroma. My balls instantly draw up, my cock leaking—weeping for just her taste.

The Doctor’s voice is smug. “See? She likes this.”

Eliza makes a soft moan.

The Doctor laughs. “Poor thing. I bet this is so confusing for you. You don’t want to like it, but your body . . .” He clicks his tongue. “Your body is honest, isn’t it?”

Eliza won’t look at me—I wish I could do the same. But my fingers are still touching her. I find myself running the length of her cunt with my finger through her panties, feeling the wetness soak through them.

The Doctor leans back in his chair, pleased. “There’s a good girl.”

Her face is turned away, cheek pressed against the floor, her body shaking with shame, rage, and need. The Doctor shifts in his chair, watching. Always watching.

“She’s so eager,” he muses, his voice filled with something that makes my stomach twist. “And she doesn’t even realize it yet. How sweet.”

I swallow hard. The fabric sticks to my fingertips, and I can’t ignore the way she trembles under me.

The Doctor sighs. “Theo, you should be proud of her.”

I hesitate. I don’t know what he wants me to say. “You should reward her,” the doctor says smoothly. “She’s learning.”

Eliza flinches. I want to stop. I want to pull away. But I don’t. Because I want to be good. Because I want to make her feel good .

“Poor thing. You’re aching, aren’t you?” The Doctor exhales. “Ease it for her, Theo.”

A cold sweat breaks over my skin. I can’t. I shouldn’t. But I want to.

I can feel her body trembling, her hands curled against the floor like she wants to push herself up. But she doesn’t, because she knows she isn’t allowed to. She stays on her knees, head bowed, shoulders stiff—waiting. My pulse slams against my ribs. I want to step away. I want to run.

“She needs relief, Theo,” he orders. “And you’re going to give it to her.”

Eliza’s whole body locks up. She lets out a sharp, ragged breath, as though forcing herself not to beg. Or maybe forcing herself not to scream. I don’t know which. I don’t know anything anymore.

“You don’t want her to suffer, do you?”

The words land like a hook in my stomach. I feel sick. I also feel hard. I clench my teeth so tightly my jaw aches, my fingers shaking as I lower them to the slick heat between her thighs.

She shouldn’t be wet. She doesn’t want this. I don’t, either.

But my fingers slide easily over her soaked panties, feeling the way the thin fabric clings to her, the heat of her body melting into my skin.

I slip her panties to the side, allowing myself to feel her skin to skin, and it’s glorious .

I groan as I plunge a single finger all the way inside of her.

She’s so wet, and so unbelievably tight .

She bites her lips hard enough to draw blood. I don’t know if it’s to silence or punish herself. Maybe both.

The Doctor exhales, pleased. “There you go,” he murmurs. “She’s so sensitive, isn’t she?”

Eliza whimpers. It sounds like she’s breaking. I can feel her pulse fluttering beneath my touch, the slight tremor in her legs. Her breath catches when I rub slow, careful circles, my fingers pressing and teasing the swollen bundle of nerves that’s already so overwhelmed. She hates this.

I can tell by the way her hands clench into the floor, she’s slipping away from herself. I swallow hard. I should stop, but the doctor is still watching. I move my fingers faster. Eliza gasps, her body jerking. She’s trembling so hard now, her thighs tensing, her breath uneven and strangled.

The way she tries to fight it—I can feel it. And I can feel the moment she loses. She bucks against my hand. Her body betrays her completely, shuddering with a helpless release. The Doctor hums in approval.

Eliza doesn’t move. She stays exactly where she is, panting, shaking, ruined. And I—I can’t stop staring at my hand, fingers still slick with her humiliation.

The Doctor smiles. “See?” he murmurs. “She just needed a firm hand. She just needed you, Theo.”

I finally look at Eliza and she looks at me. There’s something dark in her eyes, something I don’t understand. Something I don’t want to understand. I want to tell her I’m sorry. But the worst part is, I don’t think she’ll believe me.