Page 12 of Writhe (Wellard Asylum)

I should leave. Deny therapy. Make a noose and lights out. It would be much less humiliating than what I am going to be subjected to in that Doctor’s office. After showering, I returned to my room to find a small black shopping bag. Inside was an outfit—or what was left of one—and a note:

Wear this to your next session.

It took me over fifteen minutes to figure out how to put on the damn contraption.

It’s a harness of some sort but only made out of leather straps.

A collar, similar to the one from the last session, is already fixated on a suit with a singular hook for a leash to be fastened to.

It’s a perfect fit—it must have been handmade.

I have put on my fair share of lingerie to know the difference.

I don’t come from money, but my fiancé did, and he would make sure I had the nicest outfits to play in.

I wave my pass that allows me access to the office to the guard and he lets me enter the hallway where all the doctor offices are. I count the doors until I reach the fourth one on the left and I slowly twist the handle and slide inside.

The door clicks shut behind me.

The Doctor tips his glass of whiskey toward me, swirling the amber liquid like he has all the time in the world. His lips curl at the edges, a lazy, amused smirk. “Hello, Eliza. How are you this evening?”

I swallow hard, shifting in my sweats, the leather biting into my ass cheeks.

“Look at her, Theo—already trembling. Like a rabbit who knows it’s about to be skinned.”

My stomach twists at the thought. Because he’s right, I am trembling.

Why am I trembling? I shouldn’t have come here.

I look to my left, toward the bookshelves, and I see him.

Theo stands beside the books, fidgeting with his nails.

His dark hair hangs in his eyes. He slowly brings his gaze up to meet mine.

And his eyes.

God. His eyes.

They’re darker, the warmth carved out and replaced with something empty. Something cold. What has happened to him? A shadow clings to him, stretching long against the floor, and for a moment, it feels like it doesn’t belong to him at all.

It feels like it belongs to something else.

I take a step towards him. “Theo.”

A slow smirk spreads across his lips. Not his usual smirk that I’ve seen. It’s not playful—not teasing. “She should be scared,” he says, voice like gravel and rusted nails.

I freeze.

No. No, no, no, no.

I shake my head softly, barely noticeable, but Theo catches it. Of course he notices. His eyes flick to my mouth, watching the movement of it quivering.

I try again. I have to try again. “Theo,” I whisper, barely a breath—a plea. What has happened to him?

His jaw tics.

For a fraction of a second, something flickers across his face. A familiar flash of something that reminds me of him, but then it’s gone, swallowed whole by whatever this latest version of him is.

I swing my head back toward the doctor, my brows furrowing. “What did you do to him?” I seethe.

The Doctor hums, ignoring my question as he taps his glass against his metal desk. “Oh, don’t be so cruel, boy. She’s confused. Such a pitiful thing to think I did this to you. I did nothing, Eliza. I only awakened what Theo kept dormant. You will see. You will meet the monster he is.”

I can’t breathe. The air coats my lungs like syrup, sticky and suffocating. No. No , that’s not right. Theo is this shy, timid guy. Tall and lanky, weird, and sweet. He isn’t this domineering man who stands there, waiting for orders.

“Take off your clothes, Dollface,” Theo says. He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face and blows out a breath like he’s bored with my theatrics. His knuckles flex, the thick veins carving up his forearms, the way his sleeves of his black t-shirt strain against his muscles.

For a moment, I don’t react to his demands. My brain stalls, desperate to pretend I misheard. But then the doctor exhales, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. “It’s rude to not listen to your master, pet.”

I swallow the knot in my throat, my fingers trembling as they move to the hem of my sweats.

Theo doesn’t move—not at first. But when the fabric peels away from my skin, inch by inch, revealing the leather strapped harness, something shifts in his expression.

His pupils dilate, swallowing the pale blue of his irises.

He exhales, slow and controlled, but his body is still taut.

He’s restraining himself, I can see that.

And it sends a shiver right down to my pussy.

This is wrong. Everything about this is wrong. And yet, heat coils low in my stomach, my pussy flooding. I hate it. I hate myself.

My sweatpants and sweatshirt pool at my feet.

“Oh, I do love when they learn,” the doctor muses, sipping his whiskey, his gaze raking over me like I’m nothing more than an experiment, a show for him to watch. “Isn’t she exquisite, Theo? ”

Theo takes a slow step forward, not looking at the doctor.

His eyes are only on me. Another step. Then another, until he’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

He reaches out, his slender fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up to his.

His smirk is slow, knowing, and his tongue drags softly across his bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.”

My breath catches, but he doesn’t blink—doesn’t falter. He means it.

“I won’t ask twice, Dollface.”

The heat of his body pressing against me radiates against my skin. His scent fills my lungs—clean linen and something richer, headier, like whiskey and sin.

And his eyes . . .

I flinch when his fingers press against my lips, dragging across their curve before he forces his way inside.

The pads are rough against my tongue, and my breath stutters—panic, and confusion warning inside me.

I try to pull back, but his grip tightens, yanking me forward, my bare feet scraping across the hard floor.

“Open up.”

I shake my head, or try to. His hold is unrelenting. His fingers press deeper, stretching my lips apart, sliding until they hit the back of my throat, and I gag, my body convulsing.

Theo shudders, a muffled sound rumbles in his chest. The Doctor hums, “Oh, Theo. You were meant for this. ”

But Theo doesn’t look at him. His eyes are locked on me, and his fingers are shoved down my throat.

I whimper around his fingers, humiliated, my pulse thundering in my ears. I don’t want to do this. Or do I? Heat licks at the base of my spine, and my thighs press together involuntarily, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief.

Theo tilts his head, watching me struggle, something almost playful in the way he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Suck,” he orders, his smirk curling at the edges, all sharp teeth and wicked intent. “How do you expect to take my cock if you can’t even take three fingers down your fucking throat?”

“Theo.” My voice is muffled, slurred around the intrusion.

His smirk widens. “Theo . . .” he mocks. “Are you going to beg, doll?”

A choked sob rattles up my throat, my body trembling, my mind splintering under the weight of his control.

“That’s not an answer.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as I swallow around him, my tongue involuntarily curling around his fingers.

He leans in, his cheek pressing against mine as he whispers into my ear, “That’s it . . . Just like that. You will swallow my cock . . . just like that.”

Shame and arousal twist inside me. I hate this. I crave it. My body aches with need, with want. My thighs clench, and Theo notices.

His smirk turns, knowing. “Oh,” he breathes, dragging his fingers from my mouth, tracing the slick mess across my bottom lip. “You do like this, don’t you?”

I shake my head.

He chuckles. “Liar.”

“She’s a natural,” the doctor says, “And you, Theo . . . you were born to take.”

Theo’s expression sharpens, his hand slipping from my chin to my throat, his fingers curling possessively around it.

I gag again, my body convulsing, and Theo jerks me up by my throat, cutting off my air for a fraction of a second before loosening, just enough to let me breathe.

I suck in a desperate gasp, my vision blurring at the edges.

His breath is hot against my lips, his chest rising and falling in deep, unsteady heaves.

“I’m going to have fun breaking you, my beautiful doll.” He tilts my chin up, studying me like a wolf deciding where to sink its teeth first. My lips part, my breathing shallow, and his gaze drops to my mouth, lingering. I feel as if he may kiss me. But he doesn’t.

His other hand trails down, his knuckles grazing over my stomach, lower, until I gasp, instinctively jerking back.

He catches me, forcing me still. “So reactive. So, precious. You’re going to be a good girl for me and get on your knees.

As long as you obey, you’ll be rewarded.

” He ghosts my lips, and I want him to kiss me. So. Fucking. Bad.

I make a sound—somewhere between a whimper and a denial—but he just chuckles. I shouldn’t obey.

And yet . . .

My knees lower on their own accord, the leather biting as I lower myself onto the floor. I see the bulge of Theo’s cock pressing against his jeans, and I look up to meet his eyes. His jaw tightens, his tongue flicking out to flick his wet lips.

He likes this.

He likes watching me submit to him.

And I?—

I like it too.

Shame burns under my skin, but it isn’t enough to stop me. The Doctor exhales a pleased sound, and I feel his gaze like a touch, dissecting, analyzing.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

I hate how much I want him to touch me. Hate how much I want to see what he’ll do next.

The Doctor chuckles from his seat, swirling at his drink. “Oh, my dear. You should see yourself. Such a beautiful pet.”