❤️‍🔥

The camera which is pointedly set up in your direction stares at you unblinking, a constant and wicked source of anxiety as the little red right flashes constantly. Its rhythm is enough to keep your anxiety thrumming away higher than necessary as you can’t help but peek at it and wonder just what Victor plans to do with these recordings.

But, your hesitation over the recorded sessions is almost insignificant compared to the genuine fear which seizes your body every time you glance at the neat stack of needles which sit on the medical tray beside the chair you are so thoroughly held against. Exposure therapy is what Victor is calling it and your ongoing therapies are a source of constant misery.

Restrained by a wide cloth band which secures you into place against the medical chair you are currently seated upon, your position is made even more difficult to wriggle free from due to the bands which also circle your ankles and wrists to keep them pinned firmly against the chair.

“Please, no more.” You sob the words out as your head swings from side to side. “I can’t- I can’t.”

“Be brave, little bird.” Victor soothes, his voice almost teasing as he uncaps a fresh medical needle – one thin enough to pierce the skin without leaving too much damage in its wake. “You have taken the others so well, and this will be no different.”

Glancing down at your nude body, the sight which greets you only sparks a fresh sob of total despair as you take in the various needles which he has already used to decorate your body. Your thighs and tits bear the worst of it; a trio of needles embedded in the skin of both thighs matching the series of needles which are delicately threaded across the darker skin of your areolas to form a metallic circle.

The endorphin high which rides alongside the terror is so intense that your body feels hypersensitive, every slight brush of Victor’s hands along your skin as he gently traces the lines of his own brutalist artwork electric against the nerves.

“Are you ready for the final additions?”

You shake your head, refusing to look at the needle and instead focusing your hazy attention on Victor’s face; his eyes hidden away beneath his familiar visor even as his mouth curls into a satisfied smirk, his sadistic joy on full show as he tastes your fear in the air with every flicker of his forked tongue.

“Only two more.” He continues, his voice soft and hypnotic in that way which it always is when he is trying to convince you to go along with his more wicked plans. Keeping the needle pinned between his pinky and ring finger, Victor instead brings his thumbs to your nipples and the soft pads are rough against the sensitive nubs as he rubs at them until they stiffen against his skin. “And yes, they will hurt terribly but how beautiful your reactions will be.”

“Dr. Gideon, please.”

You feel the pressure as the sharp end of the needle depresses the skin, the tension growing tighter, before it punctures. Victor sinks the needle through your right nipple with a clinical determination, ensuring a clean through-and-through as you wail softly, body so exhausted from the ongoing adrenaline ride that you feel close to passing out. Hands shaking so badly they can barely claw at their own restraints, your vision swims with tears as low, stuttering breaths escape your lungs.

A second, equally as sharp pain rockets through your chest and you don’t need to look down to discover that Victor has quickly taken the opportunity to place a needle through your other nipple. The intensity of the pain dissolves quickly in a dull, throbbing ache of pure discomfort – the acute edge of it dulling due to the fresh endorphins which wash through your trembling skin.

“Beautiful.” Victor huffs and your watery gaze dips up to meet his. His pupils are blown wide, forked tongue making soft flicking movements against his cracked lips as he tastes something in the air. A tickle of something damp scores down your right tit and you keep your eyes held high to avoid the inevitable sight of your own dripping blood.

Victor, noticing the stain at the same moment you felt it, issues a soft gasp of delight and his head is quick to strike as he hunches his huge body to dip lower and lift the underside of your breast with one of his massive hands. Bringing his mouth to your nipple, it’s that same wicked tongue which touches your skin first, tracing the pathway of the blood droplet in reverse as he licks it up with a thoroughly satisfied hum.

It’s when he reaches the nipple itself that you gasp, the sensation of his forked tongue wrapping around the ultra-sensitive nub sparking a vicious mixture of pleasure and discomfort as he makes no real effort to avoid the needle. Instead, he allows his tongue to wrap around both ends of the needles as he seeks out the source of the injury.

“Vic-Victor!” You cry out his name as his other hand rises, almost thoughtlessly, to knead at your other tit – his palm avoiding the needle there but only by a whisper. “Hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” Victor soothes, pulling free of your body with a low, measured response, “But if you could only see what I see as you suffer and bleed. For me.” Having no response to that, Victor continues. “You stink of fear, but your body is beginning to change-”

Without warning or permission, one of Victor’s hands presses between your widened knees and the sound which flees from your throat as he thrusts two thick fingers within your cunt is borderline feral as it only adds to the myriad of sensations which are shattering your fragile thoughts.

“Physical arousal remains moderate but the real beginnings of something special are there.” Victor hums, scissoring his fingers a few times before pulling them free and bringing them into the space between your faces. You can see it – there at the very tips of his digits – your own arousal as it slickens and glistens against the thick pads. “We are making progress, little bird. Perhaps…”

His voice trails off, free hand ticking over to the pile of unopened needles as his stained hand returns to your cunt. With two fingers, he spreads your folds wide and his middle finger dips between them to tease soft circles around your engorged clit – aroused forcing it to peek free of its protective hood.

Immediately understanding his plans, you thrash yourself in place as you pull against the tight restraints with renewed energy. Words spill from your lips without any real thought, just a desperate and constant stream of begging.

“Fuck! No! Please, no. Not that- anything but that. Please. Victor! I can’t do that, don’t do that to me. Please.”

“Hush.” Drawing the last sound out like a hissing snake, Victor brings his other hand back to stroke along the back of your cheek with his knuckles. “All these dramatics and for nothing.”

Just thankful that he had returned his attention from the pile of capped medical needles, you try to distract him in one of the few ways you know how.

“My heart! My heart, it’s going too fast. I’m going to hurt myself.”

“Hmm,” his head tilting as his visor clearly took some measurement of your struggling frame, Victor issues a soft tut at whatever reading it delivers, “your heartrate is elevated but not to the point of danger. Besides,” he taps at his duster pocket, “any mistakes today can easily be rectified.”