FrankenDom

by Rotham, Robin L.

  This was the one Colin had warmed Julian up with last week.

  Dirk walked in front of me and gave me a light tap on the thigh. It didn’t feel too bad but a second later, an intense sting flared and I flinched. “Ouch!”

  “Any sadist will tell you that’s not a safe word,” Dirk grinned.

  “I didn’t mean it as one.”

  “Do you still want to feel it on your ass?”

  I deliberated for a second. “Yes.”

  He walked behind me and gave me two across the butt in quick succession before I had a chance to brace myself.

  “Son of a bitch!” I said through my teeth.

  Then two arrows of fire streaked across the back of my thighs then and I jerked hard, screaming, “Red, you bastard!”

  “Had enough of that one, eh?”

  “I said one from each of them,” I forced out bitterly, writhing as my body tried to process the pain into something my brain could cope with. It helped when Vince rubbed the marks vigorously.

  “One stroke is hardly enough to get a good feel for any impact toy, slave.”

  Still panting, I scowled at the sneer in Dirk’s tone. “It would have been enough for me.”

  “So you don’t wish to experience the Delrin then.”

  Ah, so that was his game. “I can take it.”

  He chuckled. “In that case, you will take it until I hear your safe word again. Agreed?”

  Oh hell. “Fine.”

  “You hide more fire than I realized,” he told me.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “In certain contexts, a very good thing.”

  I heard the cane whip through the air behind me and sucked in a breath, closing my eyes tightly.

  Nothing happened. Shit, he was practicing?

  I sagged, and he struck two, three, four times. The pain wasn’t coy—it screamed across my butt like grazing bullets and reverberated right down to my bones—but I took it as long as I could stand it. Whimpering, I writhed in my bonds, frantically trying to get away from the blossoming mushroom cloud of agony. After eight, I burst into tears.

  “Red, red, red!” I sobbed.

  An instant later my hands and feet were free, and Dirk swept me up in his arms, still writhing and sobbing and trying to hold my abused butt. He laid me facedown on a padded leather table and took my hands, and then someone else’s hands started massaging my butt firmly with oil. It made the pain even worse, and I fought for a couple of seconds—and then went under.

  I drifted for a long time as the pressure and warmth worked their way up my back to my neck and down my legs to my feet and toes. A series of images flashed through my mind: Julian watching me from afar; Julian hugging me in the mad scientist’s lab, looking up at me between my breasts; Julian surrounded by a platoon of dedicated surgeons; Jordan lying on the operating table with his head completely severed from his body; Julian cradled in Colin’s arms; Colin sobbing in my arms…

  Julian naked on his hands and knees, being sodomized and tortured by a faceless condemned killer.

  Was there anything Julian Kilmartin wouldn’t sacrifice for his research?

  I didn’t even realize I was weeping silently until Dirk asked, “Good tears or bad, little slave?”

  My sigh was almost a sob. “Both, I guess.”

  “My Vince is a talented masseur. I promise, your aching body will feel much better for his deep-tissue torture.”

  I sighed again. I’d finally sunk deep enough to find the clarity I’d sought, but it hadn’t brought me the verdict I wanted.

  “Is there anything he can do for my aching heart?” I whispered.

  Dirk sighed, too. “I wish there were, my dear.”

  “Will you drive me to the airport tomorrow?”

  “If that’s what you wish.”

  No, it wasn’t what I wished. But it had to be done.

  * * * * *

  Early the next morning, Julian and Colin met me in Julian’s little sitting area, as I’d requested in my text to Colin the night before.

  Judging by their expressions as they sat side by side on the sofa, they knew I was leaving. Of course Dirk would have let Julian know my plans. Colin looked distant, cold, with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed. Julian just looked…resigned.

  I took the chair opposite them, wringing a tissue between my damp hands. While part of me wanted to see Julian get down on his knees and beg me to stay, to hear him swear to never again do anything to jeopardize himself or another human being, I hoped he wouldn’t. It would just make it harder to leave.

  Drawing a trembling breath, I said the only thing I could.

  “You both know I’ve always been almost fanatical about following rules. It’s probably a big part of my being a submissive. I believe there are reasons for rules. They make me feel safe. They keep me safe. Without rules, there’d be anarchy.”

  I had to pause and take another calming breath before I could continue. “What you did, Julian, runs counter to every moral, ethical and legal rule for medical care in the world. You performed an experimental procedure on your own brother without informed consent. You denied him the right to refuse treatment. You jeopardized the career of every single medical professional who had anything at all to do with this surgery, including Colin and me. You deceived and manipulated me every step of the way. And you allowed a stone-cold killer to assault and torture you in exchange for his body. All in the name of your almighty research.”

  He flinched, looking at the window and blinking repeatedly. His Adam’s apple rose and fell before he said, “I know.”

  “I love you, Julian, and I understand your wanting to save your brother. But when I think about staying with you, I have to wonder what you’ll sacrifice the next time someone you love is dying. Who you’ll sacrifice. You seem to be answerable to no one here. You’re a law unto yourself, a veritable god among men, and the rest of us are nothing more than pawns for you to manipulate and control. Is there any rule you won’t break, Julian? Any line you won’t cross to get what you w-want?”

  Julian shut his eyes tightly, and God, I wanted so badly to stop hurting him, to stop hurting myself. But if I’d learned nothing else from my time with him, it was that there was no way around the pain—I had to go through it. And so did he.

  Wiping my eyes, I pulled myself together and finished it. “I always thought you were a god, that you could do no wrong, and now I know you’re only human and just as flawed as the rest of us in your own way. And believe it or not, I love you even more for it. But right now, I don’t trust you, and without trust…that love just doesn’t work. At least not for me.”

  I forged on before my determination could waver. “And Colin, you lied to me, if only by omission. You brought me here, and you were every bit as willing to risk my career. I know you did it out of love and concern for Julian, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. If anything, it makes it worse knowing you’d throw me under a bus for him.”

  Colin’s heel began bouncing, as if he were about to explode, but he looked right past me, still clenching his teeth.

  I sighed, wishing he’d say something, anything, even if it hurt. “I love you, Colin…so much…and I wish—”

  My voice broke again, and I stood up abruptly. I had to leave while I could, before I broke down and begged him to come with me. Or worse yet, threw myself into both their arms and begged them to tie me up and make me stay.

  “Rachel…” Julian looked at me then, his eyes so filled with bitter knowledge and regret, I almost relented. “Please. Just go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  March 29

  Exhausted and achy after twelve hours on my feet, I slammed my locker door and laid my forehead against it with a groan. Never again would I take three months off work. I’d been regularly covering shifts in the ER for almost two months now and had yet to adjust to the hours and the physical demands. There was a shortage of emergency physicians in Seattle, and taking the temporary job at the university me
dical center had seemed like the right thing to do until I figured out where I wanted to go next.

  I would have gone back to work a lot sooner, but less than a week after arriving at my parents’ house, I received a check from Julian for the full term of my contract. In the cover letter, he said he couldn’t in good conscience offer me anything less since his misrepresentations had cost me the EVI fellowship.

  He also said I was still entitled to a percentage of any patent income resulting from the surgery, but I immediately fired off a letter renouncing my share. The last thing I wanted was to profit from Jordan’s misfortune.

  The check, though, I felt fine about keeping. I paid off my student loans and deposited the rest, then did nothing but lie around my parents’ house plucking out depressing songs on my guitar. I longed for Julian, but it was Colin I missed with a bone-deep intensity I’d never experienced before. While Julian was my master, Colin was my companion, my other half, and at first he felt like a limb that had been amputated from my back. I’d wake sometimes in the night and reach for him, only to realize he wasn’t behind me. Then I’d hold my pillow to my face and weep into it, sick with misery. Despite my efforts to muffle my sobs, Mom would usually come in and sit behind me in the dark, rubbing my back, letting me know without words she was there if I wanted to talk.

  After six weeks of that, she told me sternly at the breakfast table one morning that my life wasn’t going to get any better until I started living again. It was time for me to pull myself together and get a job. It was kind of humbling, and yet strangely enjoyable. Rather than making me feel bad, her scolding made me feel loved in an unexpected way, like I was worthy of this kind of attention from her. I was worthy of her worry and concern.

  It was startling to realize that Julian and Colin had helped me resolve a self-esteem issue I wasn’t even aware I had.

  Warm hands landed on my shoulders and thumbs dug into my stiff trapezius muscles, massaging gently. “You look exhausted. Would you rather skip dinner tonight?”

  I groaned as chills of ecstasy slid down my back and arms. There were definite advantages to dating another doctor. “No, of course not, Adam. I’ll never toughen up if I keep babying myself.”

  “Come home with me and I’ll baby you all night,” he murmured against my ear.

  A rueful chuckle escaped me. “That’s a lovely offer but I think we’d better stick to dinner for now.”

  Without letting up on my sore muscles, he sighed. “When are you going to tell me about him so I know what I’m up against?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said without opening my eyes.

  “Try me.”

  This time I was the one who sighed. “Ply me with enough decent wine and maybe I’ll give you a hint. Maybe.”

  “You’re on.” He slapped me on the butt. “Let’s go.”

  Startled, I spun around and he reddened a bit. “Sorry, a leftover habit from football. And my ex-wife,” he added with a grimace. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. Surely Julian wouldn’t have the nerve to interfere in my love life again?

  “See that it doesn’t,” I told him sternly.

  He grinned. “Yes, Ma’am.” Then he held up my coat. “Shall we?”

  All the way to the restaurant, I watched the all-American-looking Dr. Adam Bigley unobtrusively. He was tall, dark, confident and aggressive, both in the ER and in his personal life, but he’d never once set off my Domdar. He just didn’t seem that…complex. Adam had told me that he was divorced when he first asked me out last month, that he and his ex-wife had married young and his medical education had taken too big a toll on his time for the marriage to last. It wasn’t an uncommon tale in our line of work, and I’d accepted it without thinking twice.

  “I truly am sorry, Rachel,” he said, glancing over at me. “I did that without even thinking about it. Probably because I’m so comfortable with you already.”

  “I’m comfortable with you, too,” I replied thoughtfully. I still believed he was exactly what he appeared to be, an uncomplicated guy who liked to swat someone on the fanny once in a while.

  Why did I have a feeling that rang the death knell for any kind of romantic relationship between us? Not that I was looking for romance, per se—I’d started dating him with some vague idea of becoming friends with benefits, but so far the only benes I’d allowed myself with him, beyond a friendly cheek kiss at the door, were meals and good conversation.

  It sucked. My body craved sex now—rough, passionate, uninhibited sex—and it wanted badly to move on with another man. A more average man, maybe one with just a few mild kinks. Adam appeared to fit that description to a tee.

  But my heart just wouldn’t let me take that next step. It needed…more.

  As we were settled at our table with drinks, he said, “So tell me about this guy you’re not over yet.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “No. You didn’t have to.”

  “Hmm.” I sipped my wine, wondering what how he’d react if I told him there was more than one guy. Deciding not to test the limits of his social tolerance yet, I said, “We worked together for a while.”

  “Another doctor?” When I hummed in confirmation, he rolled his eyes. “Great.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re nothing like him otherwise.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Probably both.”

  “You’re not giving me much to work with here, Rachel,” he complained, popping the olive from his martini into his mouth.

  After deliberating for a moment, I said simply, “He played God.”

  Adam sipped his drink. “Don’t we all do a certain amount of that every day?”

  “Not like this. His patient was a family member in the late stages of a terminal disease, and he devised a radical experimental procedure that might give the patient a chance at life. When the patient refused to consent, he performed it anyway.”

  “How close a family member?”

  “Sibling. Young, in his twenties.”

  Adam leaned back, nodding. “That would be a tough call. What was the outcome, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I’m not sure. The patient survived the procedure, against what most would consider impossible odds, but he was still comatose when I left. He may remain that way forever, or be trapped in a body that he has absolutely no control over.”

  “And so you left because…?”

  Surprised, I asked, “Isn’t that enough?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know if it would be for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because I have a kid brother, and if it came down to a choice between his life and my career, I hope I’d make the same choice.” When I just stared at him, he said, “You have a little sister, don’t you? What if it were her?”

  “I’d respect her right to decide her own treatment,” I said in a tone more defensive than I’d like.

  “What if your parents disagreed? What if they’d blame you for letting her die when you might have saved her?”

  I scowled at him. “Whose side are you on here?”

  “I’m not on any side,” he said mildly. “Just playing devil’s advocate. I’m kind of famous for that. It might be why I don’t have a girlfriend,” he added with a grin.

  Our server arrived with yeasty rolls and dinner salads. Once she’d gone, I leaned forward, determined to make him see reason. “The thing is, Adam, it wasn’t just his career at stake. He deceived and manipulated a whole team of medical professionals, including me. Most of us had no idea the patient hadn’t consented.”

  Picking up his fork, he shrugged again. “In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.”

  I sat there and watched him butter a roll and take a few bits of his salad, hardly believing the entire conversation.

  “Let me tell you about something that happened to a friend of mine,” he said abruptly. “A pediatric oncologist. He had a patient with Ewing’s sarc
oma, a large femoral tumor with lymph node involvement. The girl, a bright, energetic cheerleader and dancer, refused to have her leg amputated. Her father was in favor of the amputation but her mother wanted her to have a chance at a normal life, so they finally agreed to honor the girl’s wishes. My friend excised the tumor and treated with a long course of chemo followed by radiation. Less than a year later, the cancer returned and once again, she refused the amputation, saying she’d rather be dead. Her parents let her make that call, even though she was clearly depressed and hadn’t fully recovered from the previous round of treatment.”

  He took a bite of salad, leaving me in suspense while he chewed.

  “So my friend operated again,” he finally said, “and while he was in there, he gave serious thought to just amputating anyway. He wouldn’t have to look too hard to find a legitimate reason to make the call—she actually started to hemorrhage on the table, and the fastest way to save her would have been to just clamp off the artery and remove the leg. But visions of lawsuits and disciplinary hearings danced in his head, so he stopped the bleeding, excised the tumor and closed her up, putting her through more chemo and radiation. The girl died six months later in terrible pain, and my friend had a hard time looking himself in the eye for a long time afterward.”

  “He made the right decision,” I said uneasily.

  “Did he?”

  “Yes! That’s why we have a code of ethics, so doctors aren’t forced to make choices like that for their patients. Her parents were supposed to be advocating for her—if that girl was too sick and depressed to make an informed decision, they should have manned up and done it for her.”

  “What if they couldn’t agree with each other? What if they were too overcome their own grief and prejudices and fears to see what was best for their daughter?” Adam pointed his fork at me. “And what about your patient? Who was advocating for him? I assume, if he was in late stages, that he was exhausted, depressed, and possibly suffering debilitating pain. Was there anyone else to fight for him when he was too weak to fight for himself?”

  I stared at him, my stomach churning.