Psychoanalyze Me

[RoryN]

The hallways echoed with the hushed repetitive whispers of cloth against tile. They wouldn't give him real shoes. Slippers. Not even real slippers. A cheap envelope of fabric with an elastic band sewn into it, encasing his feet like tiny fitted bedsheets. At least his clothes were halfway decent. New. But the shirt was too large in the middle and chest and hung loose on his tall, lanky form. And the pants although comfortable and loose as well, were a few inches too short, leaving his ankles bare. Well...they would be bare except for the leather straps wrapped around them, cuffing them together. His movement was restricted to a mere shuffling as he proceeded down the hall, two orderlies grasping him by the upper arms and practically dragging him along.

His hands were cuffed too, leather straps hooking his slender wrists together and tight. They'd learned their lesson with him. Even so, he was unbothered by the restraints, arrogantly amused by the precautions and the fear it spoke of. That stupid, animal fear that left them all vulnerable in so many ways.

He needed a haircut too. Black, wavy hair grown shaggy, curling on his neck and underneath his ears, his bangs occasionally falling into his face to obscure lightning blue eyes. They passed a few open doorways where some of the more sensible patients were allowed to roam free. A girl with pallid features and unwashed, bone-straight hair hanging like a curtain framing her face, stood clutching a doll and watched him pass. He gave her a charming smile, his boyish features brightening pleasantly. Like an offended doe she skittered back into her room.

Eventually, his guides brought him to a stop in front of a doorway - the doctor's wings. There were no wandering, drugged and ghost-like patients down here. But the state of the halls was the same. There were veiny cracks in the floor. And stucco was chipping off of the walls. One of the orderlies knocked on the large wooden door before leaning in.

"Martin Creasy, here for his appointment, Ma'am."

 

[Star Pupil]

Rebekkah was gazing out the window when she heard a knock at the door. Being known as one of the more relaxed and laid back therapist, the twenty seven year old strawberry blonde female did not bother to bring her gaze to the new patient. She was tired...tired of seeing the same gloomy and depressing subjects with the same kinds of root problems. She could never tell if her therapy was working of it was just the medications they were forced to take. When she had first started in this field, she was excited. Excited to be able to help people and make them feel better. Be able to pull them back to reality and help them find their true selves again. She understood that some of them would never get better, but she could at least ease their pain. But now...after only five years, she realized that it wasn't going to be all sunshine and flowers...she had even had one of the patients get loose and try to attack her. After that she realized that she could not get mentally attached to these people anymore. If they were beyond saving, then she wouldn't feel as bad.

She waited until the men strapped down this new person, yet another number on her clip board and an unspectacular and unmemorable name, and then brought her tired green eyes to him. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a high curly long ponytail that stopped just above her ass. Her white blouse was only tight around her bust, and was securely tucked into her black pencil skirt. She sauntered to her desk, her high heels clacking on the wooden and polished floor. Taking a seat, she put on her reading glasses and looked over his paper work. The only sound in the room was her flipping through papers for a few minutes, and when she was finished she set the clip board down and made eye contact with him for the first time. "Hello Mr. Creasy. My name is Rebekkah Lillica. It's a pleasure to meet you. How are you feeling today?"

 

[RoryN]

She was pretty. But the thought occurred to Martin in an abstract and distant way, like someone might think a painting was pretty. A pretty thing. Even though she seemed cordial enough, he saw through it to the tones and movements beneath. The weary defeat came off of her in waves, even as she went through the motions of at least looking through his file and introducing herself. Pitiful.

"Actually, not so good today, doc," he said, adjusting himself in his seat and moving his arms briefly, checking the give and take of the straps holding him down to the chair. He jerked his head lightly to the side to get a bit of hair out of his face and then gave her a solemn, serious look. "The voices in my head tell me that they don't want to be friends with me anymore."

He paused for a straight 10 seconds before breaking into a grin. "Just kidding. No. I'm good actually. Can't complain." He shrugged with a breezy smile on his face. "Although, the restraints are a bit troublesome. But I don't suppose you can do anything about that, hm?" Even though his tone articulated that he understood right away that his request would be denied, the playful, relaxed attitude did not leave his voice.

No. She wouldn't remove them. Not if she was smart. Martin had a reputation before he arrived - "The Painting Butcher" had been what the newspapers called him during his 6 years long murder spree and trial hearing. Capturing people and torturing them, he'd mixed his victim's blood with oil paints and made large pieces of artwork with each one of them, draining them of their blood and slowly killing them over a period of 7 days until their painting was done. He'd been declared incompetent to stand trial. It wasn't until a week after arriving here that he'd actually hurt someone else. But that orderly was a dick. A pencil to the eye was the least of the guy's flaws.

He spied some pictures on her desk but they were faced away from him. Nodding at them he asked, "Those of your kids? Or do you not have any?" They weren't supposed to reveal personal information like that, but Martin enjoyed testing the waters with each new person he met.

 

[Star Pupil]

Rebekkah usually was not surprised by the victims stories. This man story was no different. She had talked to serial killers, rapists, pedophiles, you name it. Although the way he used the victims blood was a little creative. She listened to his every word, her eyes staring intently into his. Reading his movements thoroughly and taking mental notes. She may have been tired of this work, but she took her job seriously. Her face was emotionless, and no matter what he said she didn't so much as twitch. Some would call it a poker face, but Rebekkah always looked this way when talking to her patience these days. She was relieved however....he made sense with small talk. She wouldn't have to decipher anything to have a proper conversation. At the end, when she was sure he was finished she forced a smile on her face. "I really wish I could help you with those restraints, but for my safety as well as everyone in this facility, I'm going to have to deny your request." She was already beginning to scribble down notes that only she could read, as her hand writing was very small. She pressed her lips together, a small habit that she had picked up while trying to focus. As a result, her purplish lipstick smudged a little. She wasn't worried about it enough to check.

Finally, lifted her head and adjusted her glasses, her eyes locked onto his again. There was one thing that was echoing through her head that kind of bothered her. He had asked if she had kids. She took a breath and then sighed, the empty smile still plastered on her face. "I do not have kids." Was all she said. She would not speak more of it. She was twenty seven years old, and was single. Her dream was to be married by now and to at least have one on the way. However, it did not work out this way, unfortunately. Her eyes shifted a little as she nearly lost herself in thought. "So, I'm glad that you are feeling well. How often do you find yourself depressed? Angry?" She placed her pen down and leaned back in her chair, crossing her long, stocking clad legs.

 

[RoryN]

Yeah, he thought not. Still, it was on his to-do list to eventually get her to take them off of him.

That weariness and robotic demeanor did not leave her, even with the question about children. Technically, since she did not have any, it was probably not that big of a deal, but it was still a personal revelation and it filled him with a sense of triumph. Then a stock question was flung his way and he found himself simultaneously annoyed by her obvious apathy and entertained by the challenge to spark her interest.

"Depressed? All the time," he gave her a boyish grin. "I'm surrounded by idiots and it really brings me down. I just don't have the motivation for the things I used to enjoy - painting...violence... it completely takes the fun out of it when I find myself sitting inches away from a senile old geezer who doesn't even know where he is let alone is aware of his surroundings. Death would probably not make any difference to him at all. I've lost my ability to have an impact because I'm walking among the dead. And it makes me sad." Very clearly it didn't and he shrugged.

"And angry? Seriously, I don't know what that word means." He gave her a mocking grin, watched her write and leaned forward as much as the chair restraints would allow. "Ask me if I'm in any pain next. Or maybe, you could ask me about my childhood or whether I'm plagued by guilt over my victims. How about I give you a few dreams and you can stick them in that nice little folder there. That'll be nice. And then we can all give ourselves a nice pat on the back about how much 'work' we've gotten done." Another smile crossed his lips as he sat back in his seat, releasing a satisfied sigh. When he spoke again, the mockingly sweet tone left his voice for a more personal one.

"Does that make you sad - not having any kids? Is there a void in your life because of your lack? Is it because you can't have any? Do you blame your husband or do you blame yourself?" Martin was just shooting in the dark now, hoping to hit something.

 

[Star Pupil]

At this point she was a little interested. Most of the time her patients gave her short or very exaggerated answers, but it seemed like this man was being honest. Well, about most things. Showing any sort of sadness for anyone around him...well she didn't really believe that. Her face remained the same up until the point where he changed the subject back to her. When he mentioned a husband, She bit her lower lip, once again smudging that violet lipstick and her eyes lowered. "I do not have a husband, however Mr. Creasy, this session is not about me. It's about you. If you find my normal questions to be too predictable, perhaps we can start somewhere else." Uncrossing her legs, she opened the drawer in her desk and fumbled with the papers inside. It was apparent he had shook her up a little. She got her Rorschach inkblot cards and set them on the desk. Before she would show him the test though she needed to continue her notes. There was only so much information that she could store before she forgot.

Sticking her tongue out and licking the tip of the pen, she began scribbling once more. The whole while she was avoiding contact. A few strands of hair became loose as she did this and she pulled it back behind her ear. After a few moments she found herself unable to make contact with his piercing eyes. For some reason she was looking at him now instead of through him. More features became apparent. He was young, he was handsome, he did not look like any of the mental wards she had previously encountered. She knew there was a possibility that this might have just been one of his personalities, but he seemed calm. Together. Collected. She cleared her throat and then held up one of the cards. "Tell me, what do you see?"

 

[RoryN]

Another revelation. Granted the information she let slip wasn't much more to go on, but her body language was giving him clear signals for how she felt about what he was asking her. The more bothered she became, the more vulnerable she seemed and he couldn't help getting excited by it, his twisted urges growing more insistent for relief. The best part of it was, as much as his needs were suddenly fixated and targeted on her, he could feel her own eagerness to reach out. But first, he had to make her realize it.

"Are you sure this is about me?" he asked, ignoring the inkblot for the moment and staring straight at her with a penetrating look. "Because it feels an awful lot like this has been about you since I walked in here." Martin let out an irritated breath and shook his head a little, languidly glancing at the card in her hands. "I see a beautiful, bright young woman who has given up. Her life put on hold for the job she no longer believes in, going through the motions of engaging with the people around her. Consumed by this helplessness until she's come to resemble those that she deals with every day." His eyes drifted back up to hers and he glibly said, "I see a ghost."

"I have to be honest with you, doc," he said adjusting himself in his seat, uncomfortably twisting his arms in his restraints before settling for his immobility. "I don't think you can help me. And you won't so long as you continue to agree with that." Boredly, he looked away from her. "I'd like to return to my room now, please. We can talk again when you're willing to stop being so wrapped up in you." How eager would she be to salvage this? How eager would she be to please him?

 

[Star Pupil]

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cards tightly, struggling to keep a composed face. The corner of her tightly pressed mouth twitched a little, and as soon as he finished she sighed and placed the cards down. Not once did any of her patients notice anything about her. Not once had any of them saw though her fake and composed demeanor. She had been taken by surprised, enough to feel as if she needed to prove herself to him. She had gone into this field to help people, and she had lost sight of that. She wondered if he was intentionally making her feel this way "I'm sorry," she began, forcing herself to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry that I gave you that impression. From now on I will try to be more real with you. Being polite and following protocols clearly will not work on you." She closed her note book and set it on top of her cards and then turned her chair towards the window again. "You may have just saved my career." She said quietly, admiring how the sky was getting darker with each passing moment. It was ominous. "It looks like it will rain."

The blonde turned back to him and then smiled, this time it was sad but sincere. "I cannot let you go back to your room as this session is mandatory. However, I can work with you. Help you. And I'm willing to break a few rules to do that. I want you to feel comfortable. I want you to take down that wall for me so we can make some progress." She took off her reading glasses and placed them on her desk. "Not many people stop to read me. Usually people do not like looking past whats on the outside, even if they can pick up on it. Have you always been able to do that?"

 

[RoryN]

As soon as he heard her apologize an intense blossom of satisfaction filled him. Especially as she also set aside her notebook and promised to be more personal and real with him. Protocol was there to protect her and other doctors from people like him. Needless to say, it was an incredible ego boost to see her rejecting these habitual rules of distant and professional etiquette, just in an attempt to get closer to him. But his triumph wasn't complete until she actually confided in him a few seconds later. Even her comment about the weather seemed real and intimate to him, separating her from the cold, analytical race of medical professionals and making her seem alive to him. A living thing.

A jolt shot through him when she smiled at him, the expression all of a sudden articulating something deep and personal between them and displaying her vulnerability more clearly to his gaze. Keeping the easy smile on his face, he shifted in his seat slightly, briefly adjusting his arms in the straps again. And this wasn't like the calculated hunger he'd felt towards his victims - the ones that he'd made the paintings for. Martin may have been a monster but he was first and foremost a man. Sitting here in her office with her like this was making him remember that - a fact he'd tried to deny by being entertained and amused by his imprisonment, still seeing everyone like victims and prey. She wasn't prey. She was a toy and her new questions encouraged this desire to play with her.

"Yes, I have," he said, nodding his head and smirking as he remembered. "Even as a little kid. I remember always getting in trouble, my mom called into the principal's office because I'd made my teacher cry. Everything was so boring - and it was back before they realized most ADD kids were just really smart kids needing bigger challenges - and she was getting upset with me because I kept drawing while she was talking. When she got in my face about it and took my papers away, I confronted her about her recent marriage troubles and the miscarriages she'd had and told her not to take it out on me." During this story, he'd kept his eyes on his doctor, keeping his smile calm and relaxed. Then his eyes drifted away from her. "After several more incidents like that, my mother finally agreed with the school's suggestion - more like threat - to put me on medication. I was eight years old."

He sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders looking back up at her. "So, yes, I've been able to see deeper into people than others would normally look for a long time. Sometimes it has benefited me but other times - especially when I let my temper get away from me - it causes me problems."

That'd been a nice trip down memory lane. Normally, Martin didn't tell the truth with these things - he'd lied his ass off with the court therapist who'd tested to see if he was competent to stand trial; but that had been for a specific purpose because he didn't want to go to jail. This time, however, he found himself reaching into his real past, hoping that she would see that he was being truthful and opening up to her.

 

[Star Pupil]

Rebekkah sensed no lies, but general sincerity with this mans story. She mulled over his story over and over in her head, before she turned back to the handsome and troubled individual. Her green eyes, which had been dulled and listless when he first came to see her were now sparkling with fire..she really wanted to help this man leave here and live a normal life outside of the asylum, even if it took her years to do it, she had decided to make it a mission in her life.

"Martin, its not uncommon for our more intelligent patients to feel alone in the world. You said you found yourself bored when you were eight years old. Have you always felt that way about life? Bored? Needing a challenge?" She leaned back into her chair and had her hands folded in her lap, making no move to open that notebook up. This patient was real enough to her where she would remember all the personal details. "And, you like painting? How long has it been since you last painted?" After that question she noticed the rain tapping outside the window. For some reason the sound soothed her. It only took a few moments for it to pick up and create a larger noise.

 

[RoryN]

The sound of the rain irritated him, the tapping of it against the window uneven, like there might be a bit of wind blowing outside. It fell lightly and repetitively enough, but he noticed the inconsistency in the pattern and found it difficult to focus on her questions. Other than a light bouncing of his knee, he remained cool and relaxed, even giving her another pensive smile as he responded.

"Pretty much," Martin said with a sardonic sigh. "I told you, I'm surrounded by idiots. It's not a unique condition of this place. Although, things are definitely a lot worse here than they've ever been anywhere else. Everyone is so vulnerable and ignorant of their own flaws... It used to piss me off, especially with people in charge who don't listen and think they're right."

He thought about that for a moment, remembering how intimate he'd get with his victims - usually people he knew and interacted with on a regular basis who for one reason or another deserved to die. Over seven days leeching each of them free of blood while talking with them, exposing their weaknesses and breaking them down. Sometimes, it was like a puzzle, getting them to separate their fear of death from the actual realities he forced them to face. Other times, it wasn't a challenge at all, figuring it out, but he made it a game anyway, seeing how long he could draw it out before giving into the temptation to destroy them. 7 was always a good number.

"I make my own challenges," he said distractedly, focusing on her again as more rain splattered against the window suddenly, making him cringe inside. "Yes, I like painting. It's a very personal and intimate experience...creating something, the paints like bodily fluids, breathing life into the subjects. Like a God, building my own living being layer by layer as they dry." They didn't let him paint here, which seemed like another bizarre display of fear to him. It wasn't like he needed to mix the paints with blood.

That made him think of the paintings he'd created over the years. His trophies. Each one of different scenes, painted and inspired by the victims who's blood was part of it's construction. The police had found them collected in the basement of his safehouse - 15 of them. "My paintings. They were taken away when I was arrested. Do you think I could possibly get them back?"

He paused and shifted in his seat, giving her a crooked and modest smile. "They're important to me."

 

[Star Pupil]

She noticed the light vibration of his knee shaking it. The way he looked at the window she already knew it was the sound of the raining irritating and distracting him. She got up from her chair and then walked to the window, closing the curtains shut. It was dimmer in the room now. She always had the window open because the cheap light bulbs never did light up the room the way she wanted. However, there were complaints from some patience that the light scared them, or bothered their eyes. She sat back down and then smiled at him once more. The sound was not so loud anymore, as the curtains were thick and specifically made to block out noise. It was still in the background though. "I hope that makes you feel comfortable." she began, and then scooted up to her desk. "I can tell that you are a truly gifted individual with not only knowledge but art. The way you described how painting is to you was beautiful."

Her eyes were sad once more. She wished that she could be that passionate about something in life. She really did feel like an empty husk most days, not having an special interests or talents. None that she could see anyway. No family to love. After all, her mother and father were immigrants and had moved back to their home country long ago. Anyone she was related to was thousands and thousands of miles away. "I will do my best to see if I can get those paintings back for you. They probably...they probably won't let me take the ones mixed with blood...but any others I will bring back to you. I'll even see if I can convince the ones in charge of your security to let you paint. Its not like you can stab someone with a blush." She chuckled slightly.

 

[RoryN]

Fuck. Those were the ones he wanted back the most. He wanted to see them and touch them again, remembering the beautiful time he spent draining the life from his victims and filling the canvases with it. Martin wanted to relive the thrill of his murders. Well, no matter. He was confident now from the demeanor his doctor adopted, the somber looks she allowed him to see and the eagerness to please him, even going so far as to exchange a joke with him, he would eventually get her to bring him what he wanted. And the sound of her laughter excited the internal fires within him, the voracious flames eager to consume her joy, and he gave her a boyish smile in return.

"Thank you," he said with a gracious nod. "It will help my stay here be more bearable to be able to express myself. And also, thank you for covering the window - it's much better now." And darker in here as well; he liked that, the feel of being almost physically closer to her with the dimness the room now possessed. As an afterthought, "I dislike rain."

He paused a moment, shifting his wrists in their straps again, before he finally asked, "Do you paint or anything like that? Is there anything you do other than talking to patients all day." He glanced down at where her legs were folded behind her desk, remembering the smooth curves of her calves as she crossed the room earlier. "You strike me as a dancer," he said with a smirk, tossing hair out of his eyes again. Again, Martin was shooting blindly, implying with the compliment that he'd been looking and had noticed her body and hoping to get a specific reaction to the comment.

Then he grew serious and looked away. "I'm sorry. I know you said we're only here to talk about me. I didn't mean to pry."

 

[Star Pupil]

She was happy that she was able to please him and make him feel more comfortable. This new burning desire to help him and all of her future patients made her feel refreshed. She decided that she would get his paintings to him no later than Friday. She knew exactly what police department had the evidence just from his report. "It seems we're too different people. I love the rain, and the darkness is kind of scary." She was hesitant to answer his previous question. Her entire memories of child hood were sparked, what she enjoyed and what she had worked for in an effort to become recognized by not only her friends but family. The dream was shattered by her own father. He had worked her and worked her to get straight A's and to go to college, and when she finally had an opportunity to pursue her own life goals, he forbade it. She wouldn't make a living by doing what she loved.

"Well, not quite." She smiled, her face beginning to redden. She did not like talking about that broken dream. It was now silly and childish to her now that she was an adult. "I used to be a singer. Sometimes I did dance, but it was the music that moved me. When I was in high school both of my extra curricular activities were Chorus and Performing Arts. I loved music. I even learned German to sing to my parents." Her face that had once been warm was now defeated looking as she relived her past that she had tried so hard to forget. "They didn't like it. After all, there's a million singers and I'm no one special. So I decided to stop and focus on college. By the time I graduated with my Bachelors, they were long gone back to Germany." A smile slowly spread across her face, but her eyes were still hopeless. "I did what they wanted me to. In the end I just wasn't good enough, I guess."

 

[RoryN]

Things had definitely progressed past a point of professional restraint. Here she was telling him about her unhappy childhood and unfulfilled dreams. And still the biggest emotional response he had to it all was an eager sense of satisfaction, like hunting unwary prey. But Martin allowed his face to grow thoughtful and somber, his light blue eyes darkening with sympathy as he looked at her.

"That's really sad," he said softly, no longer fidgeting in his seat but staring down at her feet. Then he looked at her directly. "Is it something you'd still consider pursuing? Seems like a waste to let people control you, especially when they don't even care about what makes you happy. At the very least, you should confront them about it. Respect is given to those who earn it."

He was silent for a moment, watching her. How far could he push her now? Shifting in his seat again, he made a small grimace and glanced down at his arms in their straps. "This is really uncomfortable," he said giving her a strained look. "I feel like I can't relax at all; like I'm an animal tied down and it makes me anxious." Leaning forward a little he said in a confiding voice. "You've read the report about what happened. Why they decided to put me in restraints every time I leave my room. So, you'll also know about the complaint I issued about the incident - that the orderly was harassing me and that he ruined several of my sketches right in front of me. That's the only reason why I stabbed him." He sat back again and shook his head. "I'm not going to hurt anybody else. Please," he implored. "I'm here to get better."

Well, he supposed the first step would be if he actually admitted there was anything wrong with him.

 

[Star Pupil]

Rebekkah looked up at the man. She had actually been there at the time of that incident. The man that he had stabbed had borderline sexual harassed her before. He was an ass. Everyone knew that. She couldn't help but to feel that he got what was coming to him. However, she would be taking and extreme risk if she did this for him. He seemed like he wouldn't do anything to her. He was reasonably level headed. However, she knew from working here for the past few years that just because people seemed a certain way, doesn't mean they were. However, she had told him that she wanted to help him be able to paint again.

Slowly, she got up and then shuffled over to him. "I really want you to be comfortable here. We still have another half hour anyway." She kneeled down, her generous cleavage perfectly visible at this angle. The shirt was already tight around her bust and the extra strain had caused one of the top buttons to undo without her knowledge. The buckles that were holding his ankles to the legs of the chair were now unfastened, and soon the ones holding his arms to his body. "I still have to leave your midriff buckle on, otherwise I'd risk losing my job." She looked up at him and smiled the slowly rose up to her feet.

 

[RoryN]

When Martin had promised himself that he'd get her to eventually undo his restraints, he'd expected to need to wear away at her a bit more. Well, he wasn't one to complain and he tried not to look too triumphant as she came forward and unstrapped his ankles. Watching her, he of course noticed her cleavage - and even for one wild and paranoid moment, wondered if she'd done that on purpose - but his sexual response to it was severely controlled and objective.

For several breaths of a second he thought about how easy it had been to trail her along and push her this far. And he knew she was attracted to him - even without her subtle body language reactions, he knew he was something a lot of women sought after. And even though he'd rejected the paranoia of her trying to seduce him, he didn't completely discount the possibility that she might have subconsciously been trying to get his attention. Martin began to wonder how easy it might be to manipulate that and push her further.

His arms were released and she was moving to stand when she was about halfway with knees still bent and his hands shot out lightning quick and grabbed her. One hand locked around her wrist while the other moved up to cradle her neck and face, leaning up quickly to capture her lips with his own. His slender fingers held her firm yet careful, fingertips stroking at small flyaway strands of hair at the nape of her neck that were freed from the ponytail that imprisoned the rest of her locks.

Lips danced with hers feverishly, grasping at her plush petals and suckling on them deeply, with his tongue whipping out to stroke at hers teasingly. When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing had picked up just a few notches and he looked at her with lust-filled blue eyes. "I won't tell anyone," he murmured huskily, referring to her refusal to untie his middle strap and subtly hinting that he wanted her to take it off of him. He kept his face close to hers, breathing deeply of her scent as he firmly pulled her wrist and laid her hand on the bulge in his crotch. "I won't talk to anyone except you."

 

[Star Pupil]

Despite being a therapist, Rebekkah could never read herself or her subconscious desires. She found Martin to be very appealing to her, more than just mentally but physically as well. She didn't understand why she was going this far just for him. Or perhaps she did, but she was denying it. He was a patient of hers, after all. She wasn't supposed to be attracted to her patients. When he grabbed her wrist, her heart skipped a beat. She was sure that she had made a mistake and had put her safety at risk just to make her patient comfortable with her. When he reached for her, she closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst. Though his hold on the back of her neck was not rough, in fact it was very gentle. Before she opened her eyes, she felt his soft lips pressed against hers. Immediately she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and her mind went blank for that very second. She was barely aware of the fact that her knees were shaking, struggling to keep her standing upright. She found herself kissing him back, parting her lips and allowing his tongue slide in and join hers.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath when he pulled back. She almost felt light headed from the pure rush of fear and then passion. When he spoke, she had to focus hard to hear his voice. It had been a long time since she had experienced a man like this. She was a beautiful woman, of course she got hit on all the time. But no one had excited her more than Martin. Feeling his erection underneath his loose pants made her legs even weaker as that same excitement began to turn her on. However, she had to make a choice. She wouldn't be caught if they had sex, but her vow as a therapist was to never get emotionally or sexually involved with someone she was treating. There was also the fact that it was just wrong sleeping with someone who was mentally ill. But the lust for him was clouding her mind. She pulled away from him slowly and then walked to the back of his chair.

There was no turning back if she undid this strap. She wanted him though...It had been so long since she felt the touch of a man and enjoyed it. Slowly she reached down and then unbuckled the last of his restraint. The only thing that was protecting her now was the security button underneath her desk. She enjoyed the thrill of it all though...

 

[RoryN]

Even before she pulled away, he knew he had her. The way she'd responded to the kiss and the way her fingers trembled where they touched him - like she couldn't decide if she wanted to grope him or not. She was wrapped around his finger. He watched her with a small smirk and cold eyes as she drifted away to stand behind him. Feeling the strap loosen and drawing it off of himself, his heart rate increased tenfold, free at last. Standing, he turned to her and gave her a delighted smile, his boyish grin spreading over his lips and giving his face a bright, almost innocently seductive look.

"Why, Doctor..." he said smiling and relaxed, his blue eyes darkening with a predatory light. "That was a very foolish thing to do."

Within seconds, his lithe, muscular form had sprung forth to breach the distance between them, slender fingers fast and tightly grasping as he grabbed her by her neck and waist and violently shoved her against her desk. Several of her pictures and a circular holder for pencils were knocked off the edge as he forced her to lay back across it's surface, his face a mask of robotic apathy and animal brutality. Martin's blood pumped savagely in his veins and everything in his body told him to kill her. SCREAMED for him to break her, bleed her and watch her die. Her blood would make a very beautiful painting...

But that was strictly a short-term plan and an impulse he could not risk entertaining. He wasn't so far gone to his murderous desires to allow himself to make such mistakes. No. He'd give her what she wanted. He'd bring this ghost of a woman to life, breathe excitement into her lungs and electrify her nerves and veins. And THEN, he'd kill her. Maybe.

"Are you scared?" he asked in that same husky voice, the hand that wasn't holding her neck moving down over her curves, dragging lazily over her clothes until he found the hem of her skirt. "Do you think I would hurt you?" he asked, his hand dipping between her thighs and stroking her through her underwear, massaging the warm flesh underneath. His dick, hardened by the rush of adrenaline and bloodlust, made a noticeable bulge in his loose pants and he rubbed it against her thigh.

"Do you want...me to hurt you?" His voice so quiet, blue eyes glazing over with hunger or sexual desire before he once again captured her lips in a deep and needy kiss. Teeth dragging against her lips, tongue penetrating her mouth, almost like he was trying to suck the life and energy out of her through their joined lips.

 

[Star Pupil]

Rebekkah's heart felt like it was beating out her chest as soon as he saw his eyes. What had she done? Was her life so far gone that she found pleasure in putting herself in such a dangerous situation? She had let loose a clinically insane man who killed..how many people? Seven? She couldn't recall. She couldn't think. As soon as he grabbed her neck, she began hyperventilating. He pushed her so hard that the desk tilted backwards, sending her things scattering to the floor. Before they hit the ground, thunder cracked in the sky, drowning out the noise they would have made when they hit the floor. She stared at him doe eyed, watching her vision blur as tears began to form from her fear.

Hearing that voice again, she was to paralyzed to open her mouth. The only thing that could be heard was her heavy breathing, and the rumbling outside. Her chest rose and fell quickly, letting her know that she was breathing but she felt like she couldn't get any air. As he caressed her body she realized that she was still excited, and it was very apparent when he rubbed her cunt through her damp panties. It felt so good, for some reason...Did she want him to hurt her? She couldn't even answer that. She had freed him knowing full well how dangerous he was. Did she want to be hurt just to feel alive? Despite that she shook her head no slowly, her eyes not leaving his for a second. She saw he was restraining himself greatly and felt if she looked away it would be over for her. When she felt his lips pressed against hers again, she did not kiss back this time. She was too busy shaking and her mind was nearly blank.

 

[RoryN]

Her fear was intoxicating, feeling her go rigid beneath him, paralyzed by the threat he imposed. And the best part was, she was enjoying herself, whether she wanted to or not, his fingertips growing moist as they stroked the front of her underwear. She said she didn't want him to hurt her, but he didn't believe her. Or rather, it was just that he wanted to hurt her and was gonna do it anyway. Releasing her lips, he hovered above her, keeping her immobile with his body and gazing down at her with a copy of his boyish smirk, only turned much darker now than before.

He realized he couldn't kill her. That course of action would completely restrict his freedoms in this place beyond what they already were and Martin did not want to be chemically restrained. It would turn his body into a prison if he couldn't think or function properly. However, he couldn't help thinking about this like he did when he captured a victim and started a painting with them. The way he felt about her now... the urge to mentally break her and make her bleed was very strong. Just a little bit...

One of the pictures on her desk had fallen by his feet and the glass was broken into pieces. Unbuttoning her shirt he said, "No children. No family. No friends or connections with your patients. No ambitions or dreams or hobbies. I'm not really sure you're alive at all, Doc." Her blouse was completely undone, revealing her bra and stomach, and he pushed the fabric of her shirt neatly out of the way. Bending down quickly, he picked up a triangle shard of glass and held it like a knife, and grabbed her arms with his other hand, holding them above her head.

"Let's see if you are..." he murmured thoughtfully, running the edge of glass across her upper thigh and slicing through her stocking but not piercing the smooth skin underneath. He focused on her face as he brought the glass up and drew a thin cut in her thigh, not deep but enough to bleed. The sight of the red color got him excited and he paused a moment to gather a bit of it onto his finger, licking it off and his eyes glazing over.

 

[Star Pupil]

After the forceful and nearly suffocating kiss ended, Rebekkah wondered if it was time to stop struggling. However, she realized that she'd have a tough time explaining why he had gotten loose from all three of his restraints. She was scared for her life, but more scared for her job and what people would think of her. She had to stop him, but one wrong move could cause him to snap and she knew it would be all over if that happened. She began regretting what she had done, just for a cheap thrill and sex. At least the logical part of her brain was regretting it.

When he opened her blouse, it wasn't very hard to notice her hard nipples through the pink see through fabric. The exposure caused her face that was pale with fear to turn a bright shade of red. When he mentioned how empty her life was, those tears began to stream down her face and she whimpered underneath his heavy body. When he reached down all of a sudden, she tried to sit up, but he quickly fixed that and locked her hands above her head. Seeing the glass in his hand finally caused her to lose it, and she began to struggle.

"W-wait! Please!" She begged pathetically. As soon as she felt it on her leg her body once again went stiff as she shook her head back and forth. "Don't do that...it hurts...." Sobbing, she realized that no matter what she said he'd continue to do whatever he wanted. She could tell just by the look in his eyes. She closed her eyes when he lifted his finger only to lick her collected blood clean. She had always been scared of the sight of blood, even if there wasn't much of it.

 

[RoryN]

"Yep...definitely alive..." he murmured after he tasted the sweet bitterness of her blood, licking his lips clean and swirling her flavor in his mouth. Controlled. He was relaxed and controlled. He wasn't going to lose it. He was just going to play...

"You're very good," he said with a nod, noticing her squeamishness. "You should try some." He slowly dragged the glass across her thigh again, cutting another line underneath the first which was still trickling small lines of her blood. As red liquid welled from the second wound with small droplets, he squeegeed as much as he could from her leg with his finger. He brought it up to her face and offered it to her, giving her a small pleasant smile. Her reaction was the same, so he shoved his hand against her face and smeared it across her face.

"I think there's something wrong with your make-up, doc," he said with a proud smirk. Then the glass shard was up, dragging harmlessly along her abdomen, up her diaphragm and to her bra, which he cut in the middle, releasing her breasts from the confining fabric. Gently, Martin swirled the tip of the glass around her nipple and then held it between thumb and the edge of the glass. "It would be very easy for me to cut it completely off," he said, waiting just a moment to see how she'd react to that. Then he was leaning down and capturing the other between his lips, suckling deeply on it, while he held the other nipple captive with the glass shard.

 

[Star Pupil]

"Martin," She sobbed, feeling him place the glass on her thigh once more. "Martin, please listen to me...stop this-." She cried out in pain when she felt the glass pierce her delicate skin. This time, her legs once again began to writhe under him, causing the blade to cut deeper in her leg. She felt one of her garters snap off her stockings just from her struggling but that was the least of her worries. This time she felt the blood seep out and once again her stomach turned. As he shoved his blood covered hand in her face, she could smell the iron scent of her own blood and felt like she was about to pass out. She wanted to close her eyes badly, but she couldn't for some reason. Even when he rubbed her own blood on her face and lips, she couldn't. All she could do was watch. Her struggling didn't do a damn thing to stop him.

Feeling the cold shard on her abdomen now, she tried once again to speak. However, nothing came out when she felt her bra snap, her large breasts fully exposed to him and whatever his sick and twisted desires were. She held her breath when he placed the make shift weapon onto her nipple and tried very hard not to move. Her nipples were even more erect now, as if they enjoyed being threatened. Feeling his tongue latch to her nipple, she couldn't help but moan in pleasure. She was confused again. She didn't know whether she was enjoying herself or not. She was so scared she had nearly came close to pissing herself, but now she felt so hot and turned on. She had to put a stop this now. She tried to ignore the pleasure of him sucking on her other nipple so she could speak clearly.

"Think about the consequences if you continue this," Her voice was shaking but she had to try to talk him out of it if she couldn't break free of him. "I promise not to tell....but you have to stop now!"

 

[RoryN]

He was going out of his mind. Everything was calculated and methodical about him but it was slowly slipping the more she squirmed and panted and cried out beneath him. And her moan of pleasure stirred his insides up dramatically. He was going to lose it.

Even after she begged him to stop, trying to convince him to stop, he continued to tongue her nipple voraciously, finally pinching the small nub between his teeth teasingly. Feeling his hand moving down, the glass sharp scraping lightly across her smooth skin, he paused near her abdomen. How easy it would be to just plunge this under her rib cage, blood, hot and sticky spilling forth and drenching him. His breathing became ragged and excited in anticipation of the feeling of the glass breaking her skin.

He dropped it with a small tinkling clatter to the desktop and held himself up to look at her. The lines had become so blurred now. He'd never once lost control before in his life, all of his crimes having been carefully planned and executed. Then again, he'd never reacted this rashly towards someone before and for the first time in his life, he had trouble knowing what he wanted - he didn't know if he wanted to kill her...or fuck her. And only one of those things promised a very limited short-term release before ultimate imprisonment. He was done playing for now. Things would only get serious from here on out. And he was in no state of mind to make rational decisions.

Standing up, he let her go and stepped back a step or two before plopping down into his chair exhaustedly. His face was solemn and scowling for a few moments before he glanced at her and he brightened considerably. "You're a really good therapist, doc," Martin said, mockingly serious and returning to his cool and relaxed demeanor. "I feel really open and uplifted now - I think we got a lot of very important work done in this session today. Lot's of deep and gritty ground covered. Before you know it, I just might be healed and return to society as a contributing citizen."