Abby nods, beaming proudly.
“Good girl,” Elena praises her, her voice oozing sweetness. “But maybe it’s best if I have a little look anyway, just to make sure.”
Abby’s smile withers and she shies away, seeking comfort at Silver’s side.
“Now, now,” Elena persists. “It’ll only take a few seconds.”
She reaches for Abby’s arm to draw her forward, but Silver blocks her.
“Back off, Doc,” Silver warns, shielding the defenseless mute.
“Are you threatening me, inmate?” Elena holds her ground.
One more look at Abby is all it takes. Silver reacts, manipulating Elena like a ragdoll, slamming her into the nearest wall.
The refectory falls silent.
As her back hits the wood paneling, the impact slightly winding her, Elena emits an almost imperceptible ‘mmpff’ of pleasure. Silver’s hand is on her throat for the second time in as many days, squeezing so hard it’s impossible to swallow—and she likes it. Flecks of violet momentarily invade her emerald eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching upward with the beginnings of a smile that’s quickly caught and smothered.
But not before Silver catches onto it.
She spots the fleeting glimmers of sexual excitement on Elena’s face, realizing much too late that she’s been skillfully puppeteered.
“You bitch,” she growls, letting three orderlies drag her away.
Feigning shock and alarm, Elena brings a hand to her neck, placing her fingers where Silver’s were just seconds before, secretly relishing the lingering sensation of such thrilling forcefulness.
“Where do you want her, ma’am?” one of the orderlies asks. “Back in the hole?”
“No.” Elena keeps her eyes on Silver. “Put her in the white room.”
Silver rolls onto her knees, hunches her back, and dips her head forward, resting her forehead on the padded floor, trying to keep her eyes shaded. Designed for sensory overload—the complete opposite of the other isolation room Elena had her confined to—the white room is an empty padded cell with super-bright lighting, and at three minute intervals, a shrill, ear-piercing siren blares continuously for sixty seconds.
There’s no place to hide.
There’s no respite.
Bound in a straitjacket, she can’t cover her ears or shield her eyes, and the pain is so unrelenting it’s impossible to hold a single thought. Has it been an hour? Or two? Or more? Did a day come and go?
Silver bites down on the padded floor, smothering a throaty roar. Her ears are ringing so loudly she can barely distinguish when the siren stops and starts, and she certainly doesn’t hear the cell door open. She’s conscious of a shadowy mass in the periphery of her vision, but it could be anything.
A hallucination.
An orderly.
Elena.
Without announcing herself, Elena approaches at a steady pace, her breathing accelerated. She flips Silver over, grabs her by the ankles, and tugs her naked ass across the floor until she’s lying flat, completely blinded by the lights.
Pain shooting through her retinas, Silver winces and closes her eyes. She tries to roll onto her side to shield herself, but receives a sharp jab to her shoulder, one of Elena’s stiletto heels digging into her meat, forcing her to remain prone.
Silver grunts, but has no other means of protest. The straitjacket renders her impotent, vulnerable to Elena’s whim, and she doesn’t fight it.
Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she’s vaguely aware of Elena standing over her, then she feels heat spread over her midsection, Elena’s thighs pressed to her sides, straddling her.
Braving the glare, she picks up her head and squints at the doctor, watching her hitch her skirt up, revealing the tops of her stockings and flashing her bare sex before edging forward, creeping up Silver’s body with slow determination.
Silver knows what’s coming.
She drops her head back to the padded floor, smirking. “Having some uncontrollable sexual urges, are you, Doc?”
She begins to laugh, but she’s muffled by Elena’s flesh, her mockery smothered when Elena sits on her face.
Prepared to force Silver to perform oral sex—a pleasure she neither receives nor desires from her husband—Elena mashes her drenched cunt onto Silver’s mouth. Bracing herself against the wall with one hand, she fists Silver’s hair with the other, preventing her from pulling away.
But Silver’s never been forced to do anything in her life, and this is no exception.
She dives in with abandon.
Taken aback by such unexpected enthusiasm, Elena yowls and digs her nails into the padded wall, her entire body trembling as Silver’s sucks on her clit, the sensation so intense it’s almost painful.
On the verge of passing out, she almost peaks the instant Silver’s tongue moves lower, probing between her labia, lapping her up and seeking entry to her sex. She tries to lift herself higher, finding Silver’s keenness overwhelming and unnerving, but Silver won’t let her get away. She plunges deeper, lifting her head to meet Elena’s retreating flesh, soon bringing the increasingly muddled doctor to another powerful climax.
Her body betraying her, Elena convulses into Silver’s mouth, then puts an end to this sordid display of appetence, tearing Silver’s face away from her.
“Mmm.” Silver licks her lips. “What’s that I taste? Desperation?”
“Loathing,” Elena sneers, unable to look at the woman lying beneath her.
Using the wall for support, she staggers to her feet and stumbles toward the open door, reaching it at the same time as an orderly who’s coming to investigate the unlocked cell and the strange noises emanating from within it.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?”
Elena nods, lacking words. She’s sure her cheeks are flushed and that her eyes are still tinged with violet after her recent climax. More incriminating, though, is the unmistakable waft of a freshly used cunt.
Her spasming womanhood is throbbing beneath her skirt, her copious fluids leaking onto her thighs, commingled with Silver’s saliva. He must be able to smell it.
“Let her out,” she rasps as she pushes past him. “Lock her in her room for the rest of the day.” She slinks away, adding bitterly, “I don’t want to see her.”
Confused but compliant, the orderly heaves Silver off the floor and leads her out of the white room. When he marches her down the corridor, Elena’s still there, leaning on the wall, gathering herself and straightening the creases in her skirt.
Silver winks and blows her a kiss, making her cringe. This is a win. Being restricted to her room is still a punishment, but it’s a much better one, and she’s rather looking forward to the peace and quiet.
Not that she gets much.
Come nightfall, it’s shattered.
This isn’t the first time Silver’s woken up to sobs and wails from the neighboring rooms, but these mournful cries and yelps are different. The pitch of the sniveling and whimpering is familiar, and the sounds are punctuated by the crack of a whip.
It’s Abby.
“What the fuck?” Silver mutters to herself, sitting upright to listen better.
Crack!
The whip snaps against bare human skin.
Then, Elena’s sultry voice drifts through the wall grate. “Who’s been a naughty girl?” she coos. “You have, haven’t you?”
Smack!
“Such a naughty, filthy girl.”
Snap!
Wincing every time the leather meets flesh, Silver remains awake, livid and seething, unable to put the sounds out of her mind. Even when Elena tires of the corporal punishment and leaves, her clacking high heels signaling her departure, Silver still can’t sleep.
Abby cries until morning, and at shower time, the timorous brunette refuses to emerge. One of the orderlies has to grab her by the hair and drag her from her room, throwing her into line with the others.
She can barely stand, she’s shaking from head to toe, and whe
n she strips off in her shower stall, Silver gets an eyeful of the purple, blue, and red marks on her backside, her buttocks having been struck repeatedly with a leather riding crop.
Glaring fiercely at Elena, Silver now knows better than to confront her when her orderlies are so close; that’s probably what she wants. Though it pains her to see Abby suffer, she bites her tongue and waits until after breakfast, when Elena predictably retires to her office for the remainder of the morning.
She’s all alone.
Unguarded.
Defenseless.
The perfect combination.
Silver barges into Elena’s office unannounced, finding the ornery doctor standing by her desk, filing paperwork.
“Why did you do it?” she demands. “Abby did nothing wrong!”
Unfazed by the intrusion, Elena sticks to her files. “I saw you with her outside the refectory.” She bites back tears. “I saw you fucking her.”
“And you’re jealous?” Silver strides across the room. “Is that it?”
Elena makes no attempt to retreat, Silver’s stormy advance eliciting more sexual arousal than fear. Indeed, when Silver grasps a chunk of her hair and pushes her forward, bending her over her desk and smooshing her face into the smooth oak, her cunt begins to throb expectantly.
Feeling Silver tug up her skirt, exposing her stockings and thong, she groans and spreads her legs, prepared to accept two or three fingers inside her ravenous sex.
“Is this what you want?” Silver slaps her bared ass hard, leaving a handprint behind. “Tell me!”
“Yes!” Elena arches her back, grinding herself against Silver’s crotch. “Do it! Fuck me!”
Silver rakes her nails over Elena’s inner thigh, breaking the skin, causing her to wince and tense. Then, she leans over the supplicating doctor, shoving her harder onto the desk, pinning her there.
It would be so easy to fuck her.
So easy to make her scream.
But that’s what she wants. She wants Silver to take her by force so that she—the helpless, innocent victim in this game—might absolve herself from guilt in the aftermath of their coupling.
For that reason, Silver holds back. She brings her mouth to Elena’s ear, letting her breath tickle the doctor’s skin before she speaks.
“No,” she snarls then, pushing herself away. “Fuck yourself.”
She heads for the door without looking back, knowing that to do so would break her resolve. Behind her, Elena bursts into tears and slides off the desk, crumpling to the floor, causing a small avalanche of office supplies.
Flooded with anger and embarrassment for allowing herself to become so unglued over another woman—a woman ten years her junior, and her patient, no less—she all but collapses onto the hardwood, the fingers of her right hand finding the handle of a sterling silver paperknife amidst the fallen stationery.
She snatches it up and hurls it in Silver’s direction, but it misses the retreating inmate by a country mile and embeds itself in the wood paneling of the office door.
Silver stops.
She looks first at the knife, then over her shoulder, perfectly calm, regarding the disheveled doctor with a mixture of disdain and pity. “You’ll never hurt any of the women in this institution again. Do you hear me, Doc? Only good girls get what they want.”
CHAPTER TEN
Called into the dayroom to deal with a ruckus, Elena—dressed in another divinely figure-hugging suit—finds two of her orderlies manhandling a squealing, shrieking Abby into submission. The terrified inmate had darted into the room, diving over and around furniture, dodging their best attempts to capture her, but was quickly subdued when she tripped on a fallen walking stick and fell headfirst into the sofa cushions.
“She’s been up to her usual tricks again.”
One of the orderlies yanks down her blues while the other bends her over the back of a chair, pointing her ass in Elena’s direction.
“I think it’s a sponge this time.”
Elena starts toward her high maintenance patient, preparing to roll her shirt cuff up so that it doesn’t get covered in vaginal fluids, but she falters at the sight of Abby’s soft, milky backside. The young woman’s skin is covered with welts and bruises, the surrounding flesh inflamed and sore, one of the severest wounds still seeping.
Confronted with the damage caused by her own hand in a fit of unjust anger, and hyperaware that Silver is glowering at her from the other side of the room, Elena approaches Abby with care. She trails her fingers over the marks of punishment, battling the onset of tears, and Abby balks, biting on her lower lip to stifle a squeal of pain.
Unsettled, and consumed with revulsion for her actions, Elena retracts her hand and backs away. “Let her stand and face me,” she instructs the orderlies.
Like well-trained dogs, the orderlies comply, gripping handfuls of Abby’s hair to ensure that she doesn’t bolt from the room.
Struggling to appear in command of herself, Elena holds a hand out to her diminutive patient. “Now let’s have it.” She snaps her fingers. “Quickly.”
Disconcerted by this unusual turn of events, Abby tugs on the hem of her scrub top, trying to cover herself, hiding her pubic area from the orderlies, her pants puddled around her ankles.
“Come on,” Elena coaxes her, moisture welling in her eyes, hoping the orderlies won’t notice. “You’re my good little girl, aren’t you?”
Abby shrugs, her own eyes downturned, staring at her feet.
“Yes, you are.” Elena keeps her hand extended, waiting patiently, her voice cracking. “So show me how good you are and take it out for me.”
Hearing the change in Elena’s normally self-assured tone, Abby looks up, scrutinizing the conspicuous wetness in her emeralds. Not wanting to upset her further—either for fear of invoking her wrath again, or of seeing her fall apart completely—Abby does as she’s told. Grimacing, she digs two fingers inside her sex and swirls them around until she gets hold of the offending object, easing it through her opening.
The sponge unfurls inch by inch on its way out of her body, soggy with her secretions, and plops to the floor at her feet, splatting on the linoleum.
“That’s my girl.” Elena kicks the sponge toward one of the orderlies and pulls up Abby’s blues, tightening the drawstring around her skinny waist. “Now let’s try and get through the rest of the day without having any more little accidents. Yes?” She forces a smile, causing a single tear to break free and cascade down her cheek.
Abby nods, confused, but relieved to have her dignity restored. She can feel Elena shaking, struggling to tie a bow in the drawstring, and she touches a hand to the distressed doctor’s damp cheek, brushing away the salty droplet.
No judgment.
No malice.
She simply isn’t capable of it.
“What punishment for her, ma’am?” one of the orderlies asks. “Seclusion?”
“Punishment?” Elena glares indignantly at him. “Why? It’s not her fault you don’t pay close enough attention to her.”
Feeling the dam about to break, she turns on her heels and walks briskly out of the room, her pace quickening when she realizes Silver’s following her. Not caring where she’s headed, she keeps going until her vision blurs with tears and she starts to choke, her emotions getting the better of her.
Coming to an abrupt halt, she props her hand on the wall and leans forward, trying to regulate her breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
She cringes, feeling Silver’s hands on her shoulders.
“Leave me alone,” she mumbles, turning completely to the wall, her back to Silver, her forehead resting on the cool brickwork, her tears freefalling and splashing onto the linoleum and the toes of her stilettos.
“No.” Silver rubs her shoulders, refusing to let go. “You’re a good girl, Elena,” she coos, stroking her hands down Elena’s back, following the curve of her spine, sliding both hands over he
r rump. “Do you know what good girls get?”
Planting both hands firmly on the wall, using it for support, her legs weak, Elena whimpers in anticipation, her yearning palpable. Unsure of herself, she scrapes her right foot a few inches along the floor, tentatively parting her legs.
“That’s right.” Silver runs a hand up and under Elena’s skirt. “Good girls get a reward.” Her hand finds its target between Elena’s legs. “Do you want your reward?” She presses two fingers into the crease between Elena’s labia, the thin fabric of her underwear the only barrier preventing skin-to-skin touch.
Nodding feverishly, Elena reaches blindly behind her, seeking tactile contact, but Silver wrenches both her wrists together, pinning them to the wall above her head.
“Tell me,” she insists, nibbling on Elena’s neck. “Tell me what you want.” She pinches Elena’s skin between her teeth. “Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck me,” Elena whines, her voice so quiet it’s barely audible.
“Say please,” Silver demands sternly.
“Fuck me, please,” Elena begs, tears tumbling down her cheeks, no fight and no anger behind her words. “Please.”
At that moment, Silver’s plan changes. She’d intended to work Elena up, then fuck her hard and rough, forcing her to take more fingers than she could comfortably accommodate, lacing her pleasure with pain. But now, faced with the broken, weeping, pleading, weak woman in front of her, she can’t bear to follow through. Instead, she wriggles her hand inside Elena’s knickers and begins tickling her flesh, making her mewl like a kitten.
“Do you like that?” she whispers, kissing Elena’s neck.
“Yes,” Elena purrs, rocking her hips to match the rhythm of Silver’s ministrations, sobbing all the while, her movements gradually intensifying.
When she’s teetering on the precipice of climax, Silver withdraws.
Bedlam Page 9