by Roxy Harte
She licks but is jerked by her hair again and shoved back over my face. She is told to spit the cum in my mouth. I press my lips together, but my mouth is forced open and she spits. I think it is mostly saliva.
A zap of electricity jolts me from my thoughts and I look up to see George, a prodder in his hand. “Thank you, Doctor Psycho.”
He shocks me again and again.
Now I feel like the party has started.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lin
My thoughts go back to when we were still at home, snuggled close. He gave me an out. He said I didn’t have to accompany him to the club if the idea made me uncomfortable. Oh my God, what have I agreed to? Why did I insist on being part of this? Master forbade me from interfering, but how can I not?
I had no idea. No idea!
Oh God! Oh God! I watch because I cannot look away. I want to cry for her, but I’m not crying. I want to scream for her, but I remain silent. I should have begged out, but I had to see. I. Had. To. See. And now it is too much. Too much for my mind.
I feel like I have cracked in two. I am not just Lin. I am detached from Lin, I have to be, because the person I am, the person I thought myself to be, could not stay here and be party to this. It seems like abuse. It seems like a crime.
But Gigi wants this. I can see it in her eyes—crazed eyes—lunatic eyes, like a mad dog. She is not thinking clearly. She is in some other place in her mind. I can see that. Though when I look at her face, she is here, begging for more. More humiliation. More pain.
I don’t understand her. I don’t ever want to understand her or who she is.
It makes me sick now, knowing we had sex, the three of us, because I can only see her as the whore she is. Master is right—I am not promiscuous. I don’t have a promiscuous bone in my body compared to Gigi. She is the true slut here. I think about kissing her and want to vomit, knowing now that her mouth has kissed so many other mouths, sucked so many cocks.
She loves it. Letting their cum hit her in the face, she laughs and begs for more. She sucks their cocks so deep, she vomits, taking only a second to spit before sucking again.
I did not know that Master would lead me into the middle of a gang bang, and I hate him for doing this to me. I hate him this moment. Except when I look at him, glowing in his element, his realm, I see him as a different man. This is not my George…but it is my Master. That is hard for me to stomach.
He calls himself Doctor Psycho—and he is crazy—as insane as she is. Doctor Psycho is cruel. He is not a man I can like or respect. If I had a big stick, I would hit him. Beat. Him. Bloody. If I had a gun, I would shoot him and put him out of his misery.
But if I did those things, I would lose my George too.
It is hopeless. My heart breaks for the love that could have been if only I had not witnessed this. Gigi is so weak from her torment she lies on the ground now. A man I do not know pulls her by the hair on her head, using her face as a rag to wipe up his spilled cum.
I think she would let them kill her if they wanted.
What is wrong with this woman that she disrespects herself so much that she would let these men degrade her so? Not all men. There are at least two other women here. Using her, abasing her. Fucking her with their fingers and their tongues. Fucking her with vibrating dildos and electrified wands. She screams for the women as loudly as she screams for the men.
She cusses them, spits on them and calls them names.
At first I thought she was trying to defend herself, but then I realized she was antagonizing them. She wanted to provoke them, the men and the women, to hurt her more. That’s when I realized that she wanted to be damaged, not just pain. It makes me wonder if having her larynx crushed wasn’t the plan from the start.
No, I don’t believe she asked someone to ruin her throat, but I do think she wanted someone to kill her. I can see it in her eyes as she begs each of them to use her. She wants someone to lose control.
I won’t let that happen. I won’t let them kill her.
“Enough!” I scream the command, silencing the room. All action stops. For an absurd moment I feel like the director of a movie who has just shouted, “Cut!” Everyone is looking at me. Even George. I am in control of the room. I expect everyone to go back to doing what they were doing, recognizing me for an imposter. I am no Mistress here. But for now, in this moment that doesn’t happen and I march to Gigi’s side and reach my hand to her. She takes it and I am again shocked.
No one stops me from leading her from the room.
Not even George.
I close my eyes, trying to not overthink anything. As we go down the hall I remember the tour George gave me and I take her into a large shower room. There I bathe her with a scented soap. I scrub her cum-soaked hair clean. And all the while, I whisper to her, “This is not the way to face your demons. You must respect yourself enough to live. You are a survivor, Gigi. Stop making yourself a victim. Stop desiring death.”
She remains silent until the end of my small speech.
“I deserve death.”
“Why would you say that?”
“A long time ago, a woman died because I failed to act. I feared the ones who killed her more than I feared that she would die.”
“A long time ago you couldn’t have been more than a child.”
She nods, agreeing, “I was very young.”
“Whoever murdered her was at fault, not you. A child isn’t capable of stopping a murderer. You have to let this go.”
“I can never have George, can I?”
”I am not stopping you from having George. After tonight I will never be able to see him in the same light again. We’re done.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of what he allowed to happen tonight. That was wrong. So, so, tragically wrong. You were in an ICU just days ago! And even beyond that, even if you were completely well, even if you had never been in an ICU—”
Gigi interrupts me, “I negotiated for every moment of that scene!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
George
“Are you all right?”
Lin looks up at me with wide eyes. “Me? You’re worried about me? The one you should be comforting is Gigi. My God, George. My God.”
I kneel before Lin and stroke her arms from shoulder to wrist, trying to comfort her, but she bats my hands away.
“Don’t. Not yet.” She shakes her head rapidly as if trying to shake the horrible images from her mind. “I need time to separate you from him again.”
“Him?”
“Doctor Psycho.”
I don’t remind her that we are one and the same. He isn’t a role, he is just another side of me. I start to assure her that Gigi is fine but she lifts her fingertips to my mouth to keep me from speaking. For a long moment she just holds my gaze, and an agonizing silence grows between us. Finally she says, “Please don’t try to convince me that Doctor Psycho is any part of you. Because he isn’t. I’ve seen you, George. I’ve seen into your soul and you are a good man, a kind and compassionate man, a man that only knows love, not hatred. There isn’t room inside you to hold the vehemence I saw tonight. So you must allow me to believe that there is a demon inside you, something dark and horrible that can be exorcised, or else I can never allow myself to be alone with you. I will never be able to love you.”
I drop my face, unable to continue looking into her eyes and seeing the love and belief in me she holds on to. How can I rage at her that I am that man—that crazy, that unbalanced, that dangerous—when she doesn’t believe there is any truth to my claim. She allows me to see myself as the man I was before I met Gigi, and when I am with her I long to be that man again.
Lin cups my face between my hands and forces me to meet her gaze. It is only then that I realize I am crying, sobbing actually, like a lost boy. “I can’t lose you, Lin. There won’t be anything left of me if I do.”
“There you are. There’s my George,” she says and pulls me into a hug.
I hold on to her like a drowning man finally saved. And I begin to hope I might actually be able to free the demon that has held me prisoner for so long.
Chapter Twenty-Five
George
The conference room is dark and empty when I arrive. It could be a boardroom in any large company in America—neat and tidy, a big-money room, a rare, professional atmosphere in our workplace. I don’t turn on the lights when I enter because there is enough light streaming in through the tall, narrow windows to suffice. The glowing neon sign announcing to the world that Bedlam is open for business makes sure of that. It is too large, too bright, too gaudy. Every time I pull into the parking lot and see its flashing border of garish bulbs I feel like I’ve arrived at a carnival. Even inside, each staged area is just a separate sideshow.
Maybe no one is offended but me that the once classic, sophisticated Lewd Larry’s is now just a kinky circus. Lord knows why, but it hasn’t hurt business. The line of patrons awaiting entrance wraps around the block.
Business is as good as ever. Better than ever. God, what would Garrett think if he saw? I pray he isn’t looking down from the clouds in revulsion. Not that I believe in heaven or hell, I just hope he doesn’t ever discover what the place has become.
“You’re early, Dr. Kirkpatrick,” Joel says as he enters the room.
I startle but don’t turn to face him. He flips on the lights and starts distributing folders around the table. Everyone thinks that it’s a normal once-a-month business meeting. No one suspects.
“The rest are on their way,” he says as he takes one of the cushioned seats. “Is everything okay with you? You haven’t been around much lately.”
Begrudgingly I leave the view of the crowd, the sparkling city and my memories of better days to face Joel. His expression is one of concern.
“It’s different around here. Without Lewd…Fyre…Kitten. I guess it just isn’t as much fun to come to work anymore.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know what you mean. About it being different. All the faces are new, even the members-only crowd. Every night I have to learn new names but that’s good, right? Business is booming.”
“Yes. Booming.” I force a smile, not feeling it. Who really cares if money is rolling in by the fistfuls?
“If it helps, the changes are good.”
What? Mister Uptight likes the new venue.
“To be honest, all that feline and canine crap gave me the creeps, but watching cute girls prance around in their short nurses’ uniforms? Nice. Very nice.”
Well, let’s hear it for the medical fetishists out there.
“Yep, it was good to move on. It was time. Like you said it was just too weird, too depressing knowing Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Stephanopoulos weren’t coming back. Now even their ghosts are gone.”
I let out the breath I was holding as the Dominants start to arrive. Farris, Morgana and a dozen new faces, since so many of our original numbers just couldn’t stay on after—
“Do you have anything you want to say before I start going over the numbers?” Dave asks.
“Yes. Thank you.” I face my Dominants, and even this crew is oh so different from when Garrett was in charge. He detested white clothing on any of his staff, insisting that only black or red be worn, and now everyone is wearing white, most with a medical theme.
Garrett would kill me. Joel, Dave and I are the only ones wearing suits.
Out of duty, I offer, “Thank you all for coming. I have quite a few announcements. The first being that we have hired a business manager, which I know will make Mr. Forrest’s day. You may have already seen her coming and going. Her name is Ellen Duff. She comes to us from a renowned fetish club in New York, and we’re lucky to have her. She will also be taking on some of the private appointments in The Attic—”
Morgana clears her throat, a not so subtle reminder that I have goofed.
“I mean The Asylum. Sorry. Change is hard, and I want to acknowledge that you have been extraordinary through all the adjustments.” I feel myself becoming emotional and force it back. Still, my voice cracks as I say, “We all miss the ones who have left us, but we also welcome the many new faces.”
I look at Morgana and see that she is fighting tears herself.
“Which makes my next announcement even more difficult. After much soul-searching and introspection, I have decided to take a leave of absence.”
Gasps circle the room, but are immediately followed by silence.
“But while I’m away, I’ll be leaving you in good hands. Joel Winston and Mistress Morgana have been here since the conception of Lewd Larry’s and I know they are more than capable of delivering Bedlam through its infancy. The truth is, you all make this place run like a well-oiled machine. I’ve been away more than I’ve been here during the last month as I’ve tried to deal with several issues in my personal life, and business is better than ever. And as much as I wish I could be here to see Bedlam continue to grow into its own, I need to take some time away. That’s all I really have to say beyond expressing my extreme gratitude to each of you. Mr. Lawrence would be so proud of every one of you.” I look to Dave with what I’m certain verges on desperation. “You have the floor, sir.”
I flee the room, feeling like my heart is going to explode.
“Well, don’t you just have some nerve?”
I turn to see Morgana, and she is wearing an expression of fury. Did I expect any less?
“You wouldn’t let me redesign Lewd Larry’s the way I wanted to—and now that you have your way and change everything—you’re going to run away?”
“I need some time.”
“And I don’t? You don’t think we all need some time?”
“You’re right. Everyone is mourning, some more deeply than others, but we all miss Garrett.”
She glares at me so hard I’m lucky I’m still alive.
“Are you coming back?” she asks, and there isn’t an ounce of anger in her voice. She sounds young and scared.
I sag against the corridor wall. “I honestly don’t know.”
Morgana squats in her six-inch platform boots and hugs herself. She truly is the lost, abandoned girl. Why wasn’t I thinking? If Garrett was more father than boss to her, Thomas and I were the uncles who spoiled and doted on her. If I leave…no, when I leave…she will be alone.
I cross the hallway and kneel beside her. “I’m sorry. I have to go away for a while. I hope to come back, but I just don’t know what turns my life is going to take. Everything is changing.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Morgana reaches for me, and for a moment we just hold each other. I say, “I wish things could be different.”
“Life goes on, Doc. I know that better than anyone. It sucks to lose people, but life goes on.”
We help each other stand and I give her a final squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Morgana.”
* * * * *
I stop by Gigi’s new apartment, hoping to catch her at home, but what I find is an empty space. The furnishings she moved in only a few days before—gone. What the fuck?
I try her cell only to discover the number is no longer in service.
“Where are you, Gigi? What have you done?” I face out over the grounds of her high-security complex, wondering where I should look next when I am approached by one of the development’s security officers.
“You’re George Kirkpatrick,” he says.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“We’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Miss Marconi said you’d come by. She gave our staff a very good description.”
I do not like the way this conversation is going when he holds out an envelope with my name written on the front in Gigi’s handwriting. I take it and the guard walks away without another word.
I don’t read it right away. I don’t have to. I can guess what it says. Gigi’s gone.
* * * * *
Returning home, I find Lin sitting in t
he garden and staring into the fountain. It is obvious she has been crying. I join her on a low stone bench and take her hand. “I can’t save her.”
“Are you ready to offer yourself absolution? Are you ready to stop punishing yourself for crimes you didn’t commit?”
After years of clinging to my belief that I was the one wronged, I have forced myself to admit I wasn’t completely innocent, and that is a revelation I will have to live with for the rest of my life, but Lin is right. In some subconscious effort to offer penance I have given up everything important to me—my practice, my old friends, who I was—because the courts didn’t find me guilty. It’s time to forgive myself and move forward. I couldn’t fix Gigi then, I can’t fix Gigi now, but I can start living again. I can start dreaming again. And love again. “Yes. I am.”
Lin smiles at me, and I see so much hope reflected in her face. I feel it too, for the first time in many years. Hope swells my heart.
“I’d like you to consider something.”
“What?” she asks.
“I’m going to go away for a while. I’d like to find myself, figure out who I am and what I want. How would you feel about taking a sabbatical with me? A long trip, months.”
“Shouldn’t that trip be taken alone if you are truly trying to rediscover yourself?”
“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have recognized the need to do so. One thing I’m very certain of is that I want to be with you—just you—for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t believe in monogamy.”
“I’m starting to see its benefits.”
Lin bites her bottom lip and tears flood her eyes but don’t spill over. “I’m still afraid of the darkness you harbor inside of you. You’re still a sadist.”
“You fill me with light, Lin. When I’m with you, our intimacy is enough. I’ve never felt as fully connected as I do with you.”
“What about Bedlam?”
“The club is running fine without me. I’m not fine without you.”
Her tears spill over. “Where would we go?”