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Psychoanalyze Me

Finally, after what seemed like hours he had listened to her. She watched him pull away from her and sit down in her seat. She made no sudden movements until she was sure he wasn't just teasing her. She sat up, flinching at the last cut he managed to leave there. She buttoned her shirt back up swiftly, her face still bright red and filled with fear and confusion. She did not respond to him, mostly because she didn't know what to say. He might have felt better, but she had a mix of feeling. Doubt, anger at him and herself, fear, and even the excitement from before lingered. She also realized that it had been a long time since she felt any emotions so strong, and she missed it. After fixing her garter belt and pulling down her skirt, she looked at the clock and realized the session was nearly over. She wouldn't see him again until next week. She had a week to think over this and decide whether or not she wanted to see him again. All it would take was a recommendation to another therapist.She had never been so careless in her entire career. Even when the patient she had a couple years ago had attacked her it wasn't her fault. But she had let this man go not only at their first meeting, but because she wanted him to please her sexually. What the hell was wrong with her?

The door suddenly swung open and she jumped. The two men from earlier walked in and they immediately saw the mess on the floor and the patient unstrapped. "Doctor Lillica! What happened here? Are you alright?" They asked as they rushed in, securing Martin once more. "Yes. It was just an exercise. I had it under control. Don't worry. We're finished here." She looked into Martins eyes once more before they took him away to be escorted back to his room. The door shut slowly and then she looked down at the mess underneath her feet, the sky once again rumbling with thunder. "Pull it together, Rebekkah." She whispered to herself. "You already made it your goal to get this man better. Next time, you'll just have to keep yourself and your selfish desires under control." She leaned over and began picking up her things. The broken picture was of her cat, Mr. Whiskerton. She shook her head slowly and took the photo out of the broken holder and threw it in the trash.
 
And just like that, the party was over. Martin kept up his cool and relaxed demeanor - giving his doctor a firm, ice blue look before being shuffled out of the room - even keeping it up as the two orderlies put him back in his room. But inside he was full of turmoil. Like a caged animal wanting to be free, he raged inside about all the things he should've and could've done. Luckily, the more rational parts of him kept him in check and he stayed calm and sophisticated as ever.

As the week went by, the bloodlust faded and calmed down considerably, only to be replaced by an excited anticipation. Would she want to see him again, after that? Martin was confident in his ability to read people and he was certain that even at that last moment when they'd shared eye contact, he'd had his hook in her. But it was a mixture of anxiety that she wouldn't schedule an appointment and eagerness if she did. Once he'd started, he found he wanted to see where he could lead her, what he could do. But more importantly, he wondered what he could get her to do.

"She'll call for me," he said with a small nod of his head.

The old man sitting next to him in the TV room - he did not know his name - heard him and said, "I fought in the war, you know. The big one against the Russians and the Germans." He said the words like "Rushens" and "Gormins".

"She can't resist it now," Martin said, shifting in his restraints. "I've given her a taste and she'll want more of it. She'll need more."

"I shot Hitler," the old man said. The name sounded like "Heet-lur".

Martin glanced at him and was faced with the man's fish-eyed glasses that distorted his eyes, but nodded as if they were having the same conversation. "She'll call for me."

Somebody was killing someone else on the TV.
 
The next week was a cyclone of mixed emotions and energies. She could not focus on helping her other patients. No, she was too busy staring at her desk, which was now void of anything but her notebooks and clipboard and a single mechanical pencil. She kept remembering each and every day when she came to her office how he threw her down on her desk and how easily he could have killed her. She was even more of a space case at work, and the other doctors certainly noticed. They left her alone, however. It was only their job to ask the patients they were treating how they were feeling. They were all in a similar if not worse boat than she was. Treating their patients like they weren't even human, but some animal to coddle just for the pay.

"Bekka," one of her work only friends asked during lunch time of the day of her next session with Martin. She had not told anyone that she didn't want to see him and it was far too late for her to change their appointment. She knew it would have been the best thing, and yet still she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Perhaps it was simply because she would have had to provide a reason why she could not treat this man, and she did not want to dishonor her status any further by lying about a patient. "Bekkah!" Her name was shouted again and she jumped. Damn.

"Olivia, what's wrong?" She asked, adjusting her glass and looked at the chest nut haired chunky woman.

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange all week. I want to make sure you're okay." She said with a soft smile. Rebekkah took a moment to respond and forced a smile.

"I'm fine, Olivia. I've just been having trouble with Mr. Whiskerton lately. He's getting old." After she said that, Olivia nodded and then went back to her lunch. After their breaks were over it was time to call in her next patient. The same men who escorted him this week were back with him and sat him down in the chair, once again strapping him down. They left without a word.

Today Rebekkah was wearing an eggshell white button down blouse and black dress pants. The only skin showing was her hands and her face. She had dressed that way on purpose. "Welcome back." She said, trying to ignore her feelings of doubt and insecurity.
 
Finally back in this room with her. All of the feelings and urges from before came back to him when he looked at the desk, but he smiled easily at her. "Thanks for having me back," he said smoothly, and let his gaze wander over her with a small smile. She was definitely still shaken up about last time - if her new attire wasn't the biggest clue - but even her face and demeanor shouted it loud and clear to him. There was an elephant in the room.

Not ever one to shy away from awkward situations and thoroughly enjoying the discomfort and uncertainty just rippling under the surface of her features, he decided not to tip toe around the issue. The mode for today was "bringing out the big guns." After all, they'd gotten past first base. No need for more of that unassuming foreplay of their last meeting.

"How has your week been?" he asked with a smirk, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. "That night - the night of our last meeting - did you masturbate when you got home? Did you think of me when you touched yourself? I know you probably tell yourself that you kept me as a patient so that you could avoid any embarrassing situations. But you and I both know the real reason."

He glanced at her desk and raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you haven't returned anything to your desk? Were you hoping I'd slam you down on it and finish taking you? Does it make you hot, the threat of death by my hand? My hand closing around your throat, squeezing tightly until you're gasping. Lungs burning while I pound that sweet pussy of yours, forcing you to climax on me and breathing in deep when I release you." Martin smiled playfully again, satisfied that he'd rattled the cage enough for now.
 
Rebekkah couldn't help but squirm and flinch at every sentence. Mostly because a lot of it was true. That night she had driven home and went straight for the bathroom. She had stripped off her clothes and disinfected the cuts he had inflicted upon her, then bandaged them and went straight for the tub. She couldn't stop thinking about how close he was, his thickness rubbing up against her, and how easily he had dominated her. She didn't understand why she had enjoyed. She didn't understand why she was still turned on. Her hands slipped down into the water and she began to move her hands along her slit, thinking about his scent and his power and how alive she felt....

She pushed all those thoughts out of her mind and then sat down in her chair. The curtains were closed, because she didn't want any distractions. She wasn't here to talk about her mistakes, or desires, or life, it was about him. The smug look on his face made her believe that no matter what he was in control of the situation and her, but she had to push all those thoughts out of her head. She had to distance herself. She had to do her job.

"What happened last week was a mistake on my part. I'm sorry that I allowed it to go that far. It was very unprofessional of me. Instead of helping you I simply enabled you. Well that's not going to happen again." Her speech was very stiff. After all, she was trying to sound convincing, and it had backfired on her. She knew that he enjoyed her fear, her nervousness. "So today we're just going to discuss your medical history. Have you taken any pills? You mentioned before that you had an attetion disorder. Usually parents give their kids some kind of pill to make them pay attention." Even though she had changed the subject, she knew it wasn't going to be that easy.
 
Oh no. She wasn't going to withdraw from him that easily. He practically owned her now and there was no resistance or walls she could put up to shake him loose. He'd gotten inside her head and the layers of her psyche were now his playgrounds.

"Rebekkah," he said calmly, getting a serious look on his face and the small boyish smirk fading a little bit. "Don't. Don't throw me away like that now and don't treat me like you don't care. Because I know that you do. I felt it last time, we connected. You think you made a mistake. You think that you weren't helping me but I'll tell you right now that's not true."

Martin shifted in his seat, putting on an embarrassed face and letting out a heavy, solemn sigh. "I've gotten in the habit of being treated and feeling like a monster and sometimes I act out in response to this treatment. I play the role that is expected of me. Last session... the trust you showed for me, made me feel like a man for the first time in a long time. And I take full responsibility for the violence that I displayed. I was a bit overwhelmed and scared by my sudden freedom and I reacted badly."

Hmm, what more dime-store psychology could he spew to further convince her? As soon as he sat in this seat and she began reacting with that same fearful distance, Martin promised himself he would get her to release him again. This time, however, he planned on keeping control of himself. Last time, he admitted, he'd acted impulsively, but now if he behaved well-enough, he could get her to release him more often during these sessions without even having to work at it. But he had to make her believe that he was sincere first.

"It won't happen again," he said, giving her a firm look. "Please... don't give up on me. Take off my straps, Rebekkah. Let me show you, I can act like a man." His blue eyes tried to lock with hers, begging her with his gaze for her to sympathize with his struggle. He'd show her he was a man, alright.
 
Despite his little speech earlier, his pleading seemed genuine. She did not want to give up on him. She didn't even want to distance herself like she did with all of her patience. He was also too smart for her to go through all the motions of a normal therapy session. And just by the sound of it, he wasn't going to let her pull away from him. Rebekkah did feel a connection with him, but would she really risk her job again? Or her life? She could not help but to meet his gaze as he finished his piece. What should she do?

She was under the impression that he was normal last time, even though he was in a mental ward. She subconsciously thought that he would act like a normal person would and remain in their chair. But he was sick. How could she be that stupid and not expect a reaction of a man that was bound all the time suddenly being free? So, did that mean she should believe him? Rebekkah's gaze moved down to her desk. There was nothing he could use against her in this room, but, still. All it would take was a snap of the neck for him to kill her.

But why? Why would he do that to her? He seemed to have wanted help, and the only way for him to open up to her was if she showed him trust and compassion...Understanding. "You...reacted badly. I understand that. If I set you free, I don't want to regret it..so..." She slowly rose from her chair and then began to approach him. The closer she got to him, the faster her heart rate became. As she layed her hands on his restraints, she looked up at him, no longer able to hide her fear.

"I'm trusting you...do not. Disappoint me." She said lowly and once again began to undo the only thing that separated her from being safe and being in danger. She did not want to admit to herself that she liked this feeling of adrenaline, dancing around the edge and being at the total mercy of this man. She was no longer in control as soon as the last cuff became undone.
 
Like his little puppet, her face changed as his tone changed from the taunting way he'd spoken just minutes before, his coaxing eventually drawing her from her seat to cross the distance between them again. Martin could practically hear the heavy, rapid beating of her heart, the thundering pounding of it evident in every line of her clothed form as she drifted near. The rushing of her blood in her veins was like a river he imagined gushing from fresh spring, rainfall, inside his head, and his dick hardened just the tiniest bit. Her anxiety had that affect on him, as did her rejection of her natural impulse to run, trusting in him and giving in to his authority. All of it was intoxicating, to the point where as the last strap on his body was loosened, he had to keep himself from jumping up and grabbing ahold of her just like last time. She made such delightful prey...

Instead, as she stood up again, his hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist in a firm grasp, his piercing blue eyes looking up at her from his seat as he said in a soft, menacing whisper, "Thank you. I won't let you down." Then the moment was gone as his eyes cleared and his boyish grin came back to his lips and he let her go, his warm, slender fingers lingering on all of the available skin of her hands before finally falling away completely. "I hope you don't mind if I get up to stretch my legs?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair in preparation and only giving her a small casual look before rising without waiting for her response.

Then Martin made a show of stretching, lifting his arms above his head and locking his fingers together as he reached high, his elbows making two small clicks as he grunted a soft sigh. The entire movement caused his loose shirt to rise a bit, exposing some of his slender, fit waist and abdomen, before falling back down to cover his flat stomach and hips that were emphasized by his too short and too low hospital-issue pants. "The straps they put on my legs only give me about a foot of leeway to spread and my knees get barely any use," he said, conversationally, wandering over to the window and keeping his demeanor and stance as non-threatening as possible.

Rebekkah was a bit like a deer right now and it was a crucial point if he wanted to regain some of the trust he'd lost by his actions last session. He had to present himself as safe as possible and reward her for obeying him. At least for now. At the window, Martin opened the curtain a little a looked outside, then let the fabric fall back into place, boredly, turning to lean against the window frame and folding his arms. "In answer to your question," he said, thoughtfully. "Yes. My mother, upon suggestions from the school counselor - who received her medical training at an hour long seminar and night classes at the Y for a total of $30 - she decided to put me on adult-grade medication when I was eight. For all of elementary school and most of middle school, I remained medicated and stifled by it, unable to really grow except on an academic level. Highschool came along and I began stowing my daily medications away and selling them to my adventurous and ultimately troubled peers.

"I haven't been on anything since. I don't even drink coffee." He gave her another boyish smile and tossed his hair out of his face. "I feel like I have that at least in connection with you. A troubled childhood where we've been stifled and held back by authority figures who were supposed to protect us and help us grow, all because our level of expression wasn't the dream they wanted us to live. Funny how things turned out different for us both." He actually was very amused by the similarities and irony.
 
When he reached up to grab her, Rebekkah's body tensed and she shut her eyes, only to be simply brought to his level as he expressed his gratitude. Her face flushed as she remembered how he grabbed her last time, forcing her into such a passionate kiss. Passion..something that she hadn't felt in a long time. Admittedy, when he told her he wouldn't let her down, she wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to comfort her a bit more, and his lingering touch on her hands did that to an extent. But not as much as an embrace would. She pulled herself away though, realizing that fantasizing about being held by her patient..was just plain silly. It wasn't very often where she had urges...and now that he was giving them to her she could not control them. It was a constant battle between knowing what was right and wrong, but wanting to do the wrong thing. Her morals screamed at her for her desire and her actions, but the rest of her remained in denial, thinking that she had control of herself and the situation but secretly knowing it didn't.

Backing away from him a little as he asked her if he could stretch, she watched him rise. To her it was almost as if he were doing it in slow motion, and despite feeling a little less scared from when he told her he wouldn't let her down, she was still apprehensive. It was almost painful watching him rise out of that seat, having to tilt her head back a little just to meet his gaze. Rebekkah was a bit short, but she never realized his height until now. Now that he was standing right before her, stretching his long arms and legs. She heard the pops of a few bones stretching, and her eyes trailed down to the skin just above the waistband of his pants. Her mind then began to go down the darker part of the memory of what had happened last week, the feeling of his erection pressed against her thigh. Her eyes once again darted away towards the window, trying to push the memories back.

All the while she had been standing there in front of him like an idiot. She made her way back to her desk and took a seat, just in time for him to start opening up to her once more. She did not write anything down. She could remember everything he said anyway, but aside from that she hadn't brought a pen or pencil or anything that could be used to stab her. Call her paranoid, but after using a shard of glass from her picture frame, she wouldn't put it passed him in case she decided to trust him again. Which she did. Her eyes continued to watch him as he walked over to the window, this time if he were to lunge at her she'd have time to react.

"I see. Instead of the medication helping you, you found it to be more of a prison instead of something that made you better. I do agree that it takes more than chemicals to heal someones mental illness. You need to have someone there for you. So you feel like you're a bit stunted from the adult medications?" She folded her hands across her lap, debating on whether or not she should say the next thing. She said that she wouldn't make this about her, but she felt it was imperative to get into his psyche if he felt like he could relate to her. "We do have a connection. Although I have never had to suffer being caged by a drug, I know what it's like not to be able to grow the way you've wanted to. It's frustrating to say the least. I don't hate my parents though. Do you hate your mother?"
 
He should have expected that question and Martin felt the bite of annoyance when he realized what he'd said to make her ask it. Part of the battle with pretending to open up to her and make her let her guard down was that he actually let the truth slip in, weakening himself in front of her. Needing to regain some of the control he felt he lost, he gave her an easy-going smile and said, "No, I don't hate her. She was victimized and manipulated by the school system and doctors the same way I was. How could anyone have expected her to know any better in the face of all those authority figures 'just trying to help her son' while threatening her with my expulsion if she didn't do as they said. I do not blame her."

Anymore, that is. He'd come to terms with his relationship with his precious mother years ago when she died. He'd already killed 2 people before she fell ill and even though he visited her frequently, her death would never be traced back to him. It wasn't even declared as suspicious in any way and he'd had her remains cremated. Out of all of his murders, she was his one little secret and the whore deserved every moment of agony he put her through in those last breaths of life.

He'd fallen silent, he suddenly realized, shaking himself out of his thoughtful musing enough to smile at his doctor in a reassuring way. Alright, that was fun, getting to revisit the past and all, but it was time to focus on the present. He had living breathing play-dough right in front of him now and if he didn't start making his imprint on her, she might snake away. Or worse, spiral out of control.

"I find it hard to believe you don't harbor some resentment towards your father for what he did," he said smoothly, walking languidly towards her desk. Every line of his body filled with a hunter's grace as his slippered feet made their way across the room, turning himself at the last moment to perch his bottom on the edge of her desk and looking down at her while he spoke. "Afterall, I feel like I broke free eventually and found myself and rediscovered my passion and my art. You, on the other hand, are still living the dream of the dead, aren't you?"

Gently, he lifted his hand to reach out to her, fingertips ghosting over the softness of her cheek, barely touching her with the featherlight contact. His fingers trailed from the corner of her eyebrow down to the edge of her chin before setting his hand back down on the desktop, his eyes growing dark as he examined her fragile features. Everything about him was controlled, emanating a safe and alluring demeanor, while also subtly emphasizing his more threatening qualities - the tensing of the muscles in his thighs as he perched on the edge of her desk, the flexing muscles in his thin forearms as if ready to spring into violent action at any moment, the calculating looks he gave her, etc. Did she feel how much he was resisting the primal urges within himself or did she fancy herself safe in his presence?

Leaning back a little, he gave her a boyish grin, the loose front of his shirt gaping open at his neck to reveal more of his chest in a seemingly innocent manner. "Let's play a game, doc," he said coquettishly. "Tell me what you're thinking of right now. If you lie to me, I'll know it." And he gave her a charming wink. "You tell me what's on your mind... and I'll tell you what's on mine."
 
Rebekkah didn't expect his anger. Normally, the patients that she had always felt some sort of anger towards their parents, especially if they had been medicated for a long time. Still, she didn't see any flinching or change in his features, just a friendly smile. Then again, how long had she worn the mask of a happy therapist who love helping all of her patience? Still, usually she could pick up on when something was fake or not. Not once did it cross her mind that he was not only dangerous but smarter than her. She had a pretty high opinion of her IQ, especially being a straight A student and putting so much effort into learning everything she could about her career. What she lacked, was street smarts.

As silence fell on them both, she wondered which direction she could take the conversation in while he was lost in thought. Before she could come up with anything though, he had mentioned her father and her resentment. Marisa had spent the last decade of her life convincing herself that this was the better choice. She wouldn't live in a nice Condo in the city and have a nice car, and have nice things without having to live pay check to paycheck if she had pursued her career in singing and theater. The chances of her becoming famous was slim to none. Still, her lips pressed into a fine line, her subconscious giving her away immediately, signalling that she was bothered at that thought. She watched him walk over to her desk, and once again she tensed up and waited for him to spring on her. She had been on edge ever since she let him go, and that probably wouldn't change for a while. She knew she was doing something wrong letting him free like this. Watching him take a seat on her desk, she stared up at him, feeling her heart beginning to race again as she realized how close he was.

If he had jerked his arm out to her again she would have flinched. But this time, he slowly lifted his hand and reached out to her. She slowly swallowed hard as his finger tips brushed against her cheek, her face getting red once more. Even at her age, she was easily embarrassed. Especially around someone as handsome as Martin. Despite this, she did not once forget that Martin was not a soft and gentle man. He was still dangerous, no matter how softly he caressed her cheek, or how slowly he reached for him, she knew he could snap at any moment. She tried to ignore that feeling in the pit of her stomach though. This was for him. This was so he could trust her. So he could get better. She had taken an oath that he would help him no matter how long it took. She was going to keep that promise, even if she did screw up last time and got herself cut up a few times in the process.

Her green eyes couldn't help but wonder to look down his shirt. For some reason it was bothering her how loose it was on his chest. Listening to his proposal, she bit her lower lip. She wanted him to open up, but the deal was that she did it first. Fine then. She could do that...But the problem was she didn't even remember what she was thinking some time ago. His touch had almost wiped her mind blank. But, she recollected herself. She couldn't tell him anything that would promote any sexual tension between them, or even how weak and scared she felt right now with him right in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, she remembered what she was thinking about before he had walked over to her. "I was thinking of your question. Perhaps some part of me is upset with my father. But I don't hate him. Or my mother. They just wanted me to know how to take care of myself. They knew how hard it was to find a decent guy around here." She flinched. That was such a stupid thing to say and she instantly regretted it.
 
Bullshit. If Martin still hated his mother even after getting his revenge on her 5 years ago and breaking free from the torments of his youth, then doc had to still hate her mother and father since she was still stuck living under their shadows. But rather than bring it up to her and make her face it - and hopefully break her down in the process - he realized such a plan was unnecessary by her last comment, followed by a shade of regret rippling over her features.

"A decent guy?" he asked, with an amused smirk and raised eyebrow. "So, you're saying, your parents deciding your future for you was their way of making sure you were independent because they didn't see anyone available in your future that they could pass the torch to? Other than the fact that it's an extremely flawed way of thinking, much like 'making war for peace', it seriously doesn't make you mad that they feel you need someone to take care of you?" He paused a moment and let his eyes fall down to what he could see of her lap, remembering the way it felt to cut into her thigh with the glass shard and the taste of her blood. And she'd foolishly repeated the same mistake... Martin had an idea.

"Unless... you agree with them?" Smoothly, he stood, watching her with a relaxed and discerning look as he slowly walked around her. "Not that it's something that you need, but something that you want?" His fingers touched her shoulder through her buttoned-up blouse, reassuring her with the gentle touch even as he threateningly loomed over her, directly behind her chair. "A man to control you and lord over you." Martin's fingers delicately wrapped around the long lengths of her hair, collecting them and pushing them over one of her shoulders to expose her neck - or at least, what little of it was exposed with the shirt she was wearing. Whatever skin there was, his fingers found it, stroking her softly at the nape of her neck.

"A man to take command and protect you. Someone you can trust and give in to." His voice grew husky and soft even as his lips replaced his fingers to kiss the exposed side of her neck. Testing to see how far she might let this go, Martin reached his hands around her to start unbuttoning the confining garment.
 
Rebekkah knew that Martin would prey on her last comment. Since she had blurted it out, why wouldn't he? It was obvious that it was something that bothered her. Even though she wanted to earn his trust more than anything, there was a line as to how much she'd actually be willing to say about her own insecurities and needs. Not that he needed her to say it. No, he already had her all figured out judging by his expression. As he stood up, Rebekkah tensed once more but made no sudden movements. He didn't look as if he he were going to hurt her. Besides, hearing him question her wants and desires made her sit absolutely still for him as he pushed her hair to the side and ran his finger tips across her neck, sending chills down her spine easily.

As if that weren't enough, the tone of his voice changed as he spoke the one thing that Rebekkah had always desired but convinced herself that she didn't need. It was true. All of it. She had spent the majority of her short relationships as always being the one in control. She was the one who was always taking care of that man, not the other way around. She made good money, so they thought they could slack off on their jobs and take vacations whenever they wanted if the relationship actually lasted more than a month. And then she simply gave up on finding anyone who was decent for her. Perhaps the way she carried herself made it seem as if she was a controlling woman, and it drove away the men that she really wanted. She liked feeling helpless. She liked being at this mans mercy. What was odd, was that she hated that feeling when her father had done it to her.

Was he the reason why she wanted a man to tell her what direction she could take? Ever since she graduated college her life stood at a stand still. She didn't even know how to pursue anything by herself. Rebekkah could feel herself tearing up just as he pressed his lips against the back of her neck. She did hate her father. She hated him for making her this way. It was his fault that she couldn't do anything for herself or make proper decisions. Her entire life was planned out by him, and now that he and her mother abandoned her, she didn't know what to do for herself.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice he began unbuttoning the front of her shirt. She tried to pull herself together and placed a hand on his to get him to stop. "I do hate them still...but as their daughter I love them too..they are my parents..." She said, her voice nothing but a whisper. How could she have not realized all of this before?
 
Martin's blood pumped heatedly, turned on by her vulnerability. But this had less to do with sexual desire and more to do with his delight in playing with her, feeling her mold to whatever shape he wanted her to be in with just a few twisted words and small strokes of his hands. It wasn't over yet and he frowned against her neck at the small show of resistance as her hand stopped him. Particularly it was what she said that also annoyed him. Love? Even years before she was gone and years after, Martin had no ounce of love for that ignorant cunt who called herself his mother. She stole his childhood and his dreams and although he was immensely proud of the man he'd become as a result, he felt he could have done so much better without her. For one thing, he would have started killing people a lot sooner and saved himself a lot of heartache in learning what he wanted from the world and people in general.

Not everyone was like him, though and he was willing to accept the fact that Rebekkah wasn't smart enough to reach the same epiphanies that he had. Fine. If doc wanted to believe that she still loved mommy and daddy, then he'd let her. It worked out better for him in the end.

Slithering his hands free from the hands that had stopped him, he cradled her shoulders, giving them both a small squeeze as he whispered against her neck, "I'm glad you explained things that way, doc. It makes things so much easier." Then Martin was surging forward, shoving her from behind to land face-first on her desk and smoothly nudging her chair out of the way in one fluid procession of movements. With his hand pressed firmly against her back, keeping her down, Martin's breathing slowed and he calmed the predator inside himself. He was just going to have a little fun with her.

"I think I understand you, doc," he said conversationally, letting the hand not restraining her start to wander and grope her through her clothes. "And I think I empathize a bit as well. Blood is a very... strong bonding element. It's probably why I feel such a connection with it as a medium." Smoothly, Martin inserted his hands between her thighs, to grope full-handedly at the cleft of her ass and pussy through her pants, his fingers stroking firmly yet gently at her sex. He smirked openly as he held her down and continued to toy with her body, his dick hardening from the rush of power that filled him.
 
Rebekkah was still so lost in her own world that she thought nothing of it when he placed his hands on her shoulders. That didn't last long though. When she found herself being thrown out of her chair and over her desk, she yelped in surprise. Why should she be surprised? She had released someone mentally unstable and let her guard down. Before she could try and turn around he had her pinned against her own desk. "What are you doing?" She demanded, but shut her mouth when he began to talk once again. She blushed as she felt him beginning to feel her up, once again allowing herself to become sexually excited. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted to be pinned down by him ever since she released him from his bonds. She wanted him to dominate her, didn't she?

Still, such blatant disregard of her worth ethic made her feel guilty enough to struggle underneath him. Not to mention when he mentioned having a connection with blood, it made her uneasy. It made her think that he wanted to hurt her again. The cuts that he inflicted upon her began to burn as she remembered how much it hurt. They were only shallow cuts, but they hurt and she didn't want him to do it again. But, as he continued to grope her and sexually stimulate her, she wondered if this time his priority would be that of the sexual kind. She could feel herself getting wet from the though of this man taking advantage of her and forcing himself onto her.

Still, the confused therapist tried to struggle against him, placing both of her hands on her desk and trying to push upwards. "You said you wouldn't let me down, are you really going to break your promise, Martin? Get off!" She pleaded to him even as she tried to force herself free on her own. She knew that she would never be able to over power him but if she let herself go limp, she felt as if he'd take that as an open invitation...He would believe that she wanted him to continue. And part of her did want that, but...

Shaking her head, Rebekkah tried to push those thoughts out of her mind. Once again, she had let her selfish desires get the best of her and given him the ammo he needed to make this entire session about her again.
 
There was absolutely no fear inside him or any amount of anxiety about getting caught, but even so, he played into her fantasy - which it obviously was from what he sensed to be a half-hearted struggle on her part - by removing his hand from her crotch and reaching around her to grab her face in a harsh grip. Leaning over her, with his chest and hand weighing down on her back, even as he held her up with his hand half on her chin and throat, Martin whispered in a calm and unyielding voice, "You will shut your fucking mouth and quiet down or I will be forced to silence you. Which will only be half as fun as it would be if you were allowed to remain conscious. For you, I mean. I'll have a great time, either way. Heh."

He let out a small laugh in his throat, looking down at her as he began to rub the bulging erection in his pants against her backside. "Besides, I don't know why you're making such a big fuss. We both know this is exactly what I was asking for and what you wanted when you released me from my chair today. It's exactly what you planned for by letting me walk back into your office today. If you had professional goals in mind, you would have admitted your mistake and weaknesses, and let another, better doctor take my case."

He smiled broadly, his blue eyes flashing wickedly down at her and leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear in a husky voice. "What did you think of as you loosened my straps today? Did you wonder about the desires a man such as myself might have? The twisted, dark things I might demand from you to pleasure myself..." Martin's hand moved from her face to slither down her side and hip, snaking over her thigh and reaching around her body to stroke between her legs. Then his fingers found the button and zipper of her pants.

"I am keeping my promise," he muttered as his hand dipped beneath the fabric to stroke at plush and intimate flesh. "I told you exactly what would happen if you released me and you agreed to my terms. Am I not acting like the man I said I could be? The man that you wanted? We did go over this already, didn't we? Or were you too busy thinking about how much love mommy and daddy deserve after everything they've stolen from you?"

His hand moved deeper into her pants and moved around the side, nudging the fabric down over her ass cheeks until it bunched around her thighs. "I promised not to let you down and I won't," he said confidently, his fingers dipping into the waistband of her underwear and tugging them down as well.
 
Rebekkah stopped struggling when her patient whispered threats into her ear. There was no doubt in her that he wouldn't do something to knock her unconscious, and there was even slight fear that if she allowed him to do that, she would never wake up again. Feeling his hard on once again poking at her like it had last time, she felt her face go red. It had been a long time since she actually had sex, but she still couldn't bring herself to think that she had actually released Martin just so he could screw her. So that he could take advantage of her. No, deep down she really wanted to help him. She was just going about it the wrong way.

And yet, each and every word he spoke made her believe differently. He made her feel incompetent and selfish. Rebekkah went limp underneath her as she realized that she had failed him. Even though she had vowed to help him get better she was just making it worse. He was right, she should have just turned her case over to another therapist. She couldn't remember what she was thinking other than bad and self centered thoughts when she released him. Even if she hadn't been at the time, Martin had convinced her that she had planned this all for her own desires.

She deserved this. She whimpered as his hand made its way back in between her thighs and petted her shameless wet cunt. Then he undid her pants and pushed his hand down her pants. She gasped as his skin touched her wet folds, making her entire body shiver with delight. Remembering that he did say he wanted to show her how much of a man he could be, Rebekkah cursed herself for not getting what he really meant.

Finally, he teared away both the barrier of her underwear and pants and exposed her to him. She was so embarrassed. "Please, Martin..." She sobbed quietly, though her body still remained still underneath him. She couldn't bring herself to finish what she was about to say. She felt so awful inside. So confused.
 
She was a beautiful woman, he had to admit. But just like their last session, Martin found his attraction to her warped by his more sadistic desires, his mind filled with imaginings of what the smooth expanse of her ass and thighs would look like mottled with bruises and cut open and bleeding. Shaking his head a little, both to toss his hair out of his eyes and clear his mind, Martin remembered to focus on what his real goals were. If he could resist his darker urges, everything would pay off in the end.

"Shhhh, relax, Rebekkah," he whispered with a playful smile dancing on his lips as his fingers stroked the bare flesh on the back of her thighs. "You will have everything that your heart aches for if you trust me. Just submit to my control..." His swirling fingers made their way to the center between her legs, stroking at plush pussy lips, dampened in her excitement. Inserting two of his fingers inside of her, Martin began sliding them in and out between her wet folds, going slow at first, enjoying the feel of her soft inner walls. Then eventually, his pace sped up, thrusting his fingers into her rapidly, his hand making a repetitive, wet slapping sound against the backs of her thighs.

"You're awfully wet, doc," he grunted conversationally, only slowing down to slide his fingers deeper for a few strokes and then speeding up again. "Does this excite you? Do you want more?" Martin slowed down again, bending low just the tiniest bit, leaving his two forefingers inside of her pussy and swirling his thumb against her clit, musingly. "Tell me how much you want my cock inside of you. Beg me to fuck you."

Martin only paused for a moment and then removed his hand completely to spank her ass cheek, already a rosy mark blossoming where he hit her. "Let me hear you beg for my cock." Rape wasn't the most pleasurable thing for him - control and dominance were a big turn on for him, not rage and humiliation. But he didn't consider it taking her by force if he could get her hot enough to actually ask him to fuck her. Teasingly, he stroked at her swollen pussy lips again, his fingertips drawing small pictures with her fluids against her skin. Then suddenly he spanked her again and leaned forward, looking down at her expectantly. "What is it that you want the most right now?"
 
Rebekkah closed her eyes and decided to accept the fact that she was under his full control and there was nothing she could do about it. As his finger tips dragged along the sensitive flesh of her thighs, she started to pant softly. She wanted to believe and trust him. At least for now, while he was touching her like this. She didn't have a choice when it came to submitting to him. That was something that she wanted though. Rebekkah squirmed a little as he began sliding his fingers over her womanly entrance but not going in. Her lips were smooth to the touch seeing as how the therapist valued cleanliness above all else.

Finally, his fingers began to penetrate inside of her, causing her to moan softly. They had no trouble slipping into her considering how wet she already was. Rebekkah hadn't been penetrated in a long time. Her last stable relationship was two years ago, and that was the last man that she had ever let penetrate her. The dating on and off thing never led to more than just kissing or groping. She had never let it, anyway. So, the faster he began to finger fuck her, the more she began to enjoy it. Her face was bright red remained bright red despite this. Hearing her pussy make lewd noises because of how wet she got had made her even more embarrassed than she already was.

And hearing his words didn't make it better. Rebekkah did want more though. Shivering underneath him as he began to play with her pleasure swollen clitoris, she hesitated and debated on whether or not she would do as he said. It was a miracle that she could even think clearly given the fact of how much he had turned her on by finger fucking her and displaying his dominance over her. While she was debating in her head, she felt him remove his fingers from inside of her abruptly and then yelped when he slapped her ass. She could feel a burning sensation as the blood rushed to the surface of her skin. She looked back, her green eyes meeting his, but then almost immediately she looked away. "I..." She started softly, feeling her cunt throbbing and begging for something to be stuffed back inside of it. "I want your cock....What I want most right now...is you fucking me.."
 
Martin smiled widely, both amused and proud of her softly uttered words, knowing just from the quivering of her body beneath him, that they were true. He was tempted to play with her more, to tell her to speak up and say it again more clearly, but he felt his own body responding back to her. The fear and confusion in her voice, bordering on wanton desperation and battling with shame; all of it was intoxicating. He was waking her up from the inside out, embarrassing her with how much she desired what he was offering, and she was still frightened of him, he could tell. All of it aroused him, his cock hardening and pulsating excitedly as he stood over her, gently nudging the bulge in his pants against her to relieve some of the building pressure.

Completely controlled and with a haughty grin on his face, he said, "How could I deny such a humbly submitted request?" Lifting himself off of her but keeping a hand on her back, he stood directly behind her and pushed the fabric of his hospital pants down, baring his naked ass and erection standing upright and curving slightly up. His pants were so loose on him, that as soon as they passed his hips, they fell the rest of the way down his legs to bunch around his ankles, revealing long, thin legs, his thighs toned with wiry muscles. Moving closer to her, he cradled her hip with his free hand, letting his hot, velvety cock slide between her thighs, the firm length of it already growing slick from her dripping juices as it emerged to poke between them in the front, the head of his dick rubbing and splitting the cleft of her pussy lips.

Panting slightly, he moved his hips slowly back and forth against her, letting her feel the full 7 inches length of hardened flesh rubbing between her legs and he tauntingly whispered, "All of this is going inside of you. The entire thing. Do you think you can handle it, doc?" Without waiting to hear an answer from her, he pulled himself free of her thighs and with his hand directing it, pressed the head of his dick against her entrance. "Ready or not," he whispered, his tongue poking out of his lips a tiny bit as he pushed himself inside, the smile leaving his face only for a second as an explosion of breath left his throat.

Warmth enveloped him snugly, wetness drenching his cock as he slowly began to push all of the way in until her buttocks pressed flush against his groin. All of a sudden there was a surge rushing through him and control fled from him as he began to wildly pump his hips against her, his thickness filling her and leaving her in rapid thrusts. The hand holding her down left her back to hold himself up on her desk as he continued to pound into her with ragged breathes leaving his half open lips. Eventually another smile came across his features as he slowed, pleasure still pulsing through him just to be encased in her warmth. Leaning down, his voice just a tiny bit breathless he said, "You know, I always thought that therapy was such a load of shit." Leaving one hand to hold himself up, the other slithered between her and the desk to start undoing the buttons of her shirt. "Especially when the doctors seemed to be just as broken as the people they were attempting to treat."

Her shirt was undone and his warm, slender fingers smoothed across the skin of her abdomen, moving up to cup a breast in his hand, groping her through her bra while slowly thrusting into her again. "But I have to admit," he panted hoarsely, a smile in his voice. "I feel like I'm really benefiting from these sessions with you." Her shirt, loosened now and moving with every deep, jolting thrust into her body, fell over one shoulder, baring her neck and skin to him. Leaning down again, he kissed and bit her exposed flesh and whispered, "If I can heal you, do you think you could heal me?"
 
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