SanitariumChapter 3
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Sanitarium: Part One free porn video
Chapter One: New Inmate
Leah closed her eyes tight, listening to the cries of the other…prisoners of Rogers Sanitarium. With its harsh fluorescent lights, steel doors painted generic blue, and bleached linoleum floors; it was painfully modern. The cries of the others echoed against the walls, like they did every single day since she was committed to this place. They drove her crazy some days, but she knew she couldn’t let it get to her. If they got to her then she would be in here for a reason. No, she couldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Leah Benson wasn’t mentally insane; there wasn’t anything unstable about her. Others would disagree, but Leah was perfectly normal if you asked her. What was wrong with knowing what you like? What was wrong with enjoying the way people touched you; men and women? She shook her head, trying hard to banish those wonderful thoughts and feelings. If they found her touching herself they would punish her again. The sound of the cane against her bare flesh sounded through her ears again. She flinched.
A key rattled at the lock of her door and her eyes flew open. An orderly came into her room, dressed in perfect white, with a blank look on his old face. He had been here for a long time, or at least that’s what she’s heard. She’s only been here for less than a year, but others have seen time grate away at this place. Leah watched the nameless orderly hold out her clean clothes and small cup of pills.
“I’m not taking those,” she told him for the three-hundredth-thirty-second time. She was keeping count.
He sighed and took the pills back. It was just a feeble attempt; they didn’t try to force her anymore. Not after she caused an orderly to get ten stitches in his arm when she bit him. “Fine,” he muttered, just handing her the clothes.
She took them and watched him walk out of the room, hating the feel of the warmth seeping out of her lower body; the attraction fleeing her body quickly. Her fantasies had been interrupted, like always. She supposed it was a good thing, since she couldn’t have fought the temptation much longer. It had been an entire two months since she fingered herself. The orgasm had been so intense, from the sexual frustration, that she cried out and they caught her. They whipped her twenty times that night and threatened to whip her forty the next time.
Leah stood and undressed. She hated the way the cold air stabbed her skin as she took off her pajamas. They refused to turn the heat up in here, even if it was almost December. However, she stood for a moment with her back turned to the door, feeling the cool air caress her breasts and slide across her folds. She shivered. How long had it been since a man touched her?
Footsteps broke her out of her thoughts. Everyone was coming out of their rooms and going to breakfast. She clipped on her bra and slid on her panties as quickly as possible. They gave her the most covering, unflattering kinds they could find. She felt like a grandma in these. If it were up to her she wouldn’t wear them at all, but she would be whipped for that too. Apparently it would cause her to ‘relapse’. What did it matter to them if she found herself sexy? She put on her denim shirt and old jeans, as well as some ripped up sneakers, before exiting her cell and going into the hall. She looked around; looking at all of the faces she had come to know. Harris, the old man who shot his wife and kids seventeen years ago, scuttled through the halls in his robe and slippers. They allowed him to stay in them since they figured he would die soon anyway. Samantha, the thirty year old woman who heard voices, leaned against the wall and stared at everyone with moody eyes. When she saw Leah her eyes darkened and she quickly continued to look around.
Everyone else just marched after the orderlies, wanting their breakfast. She watched them walk, defeated and doped on pills, towards the front. As she watched them she saw a new face. He stared ahead with intense brown eyes, his head covered in black hair and his skin pale. He looked strong; obviously he had just gotten in. This place wears you down, until you have no muscle. He looked built, healthy, and sexy. Leah watched intently. He was the first attractive guy she had seen in a very long time; of course she was going to stare. As he walked with the others she watched the way he strode instead of slumped; how he stood tall. She felt her legs weaken beneath her. God, she wanted someone like that. She didn’t care what he did to earn a room in the asylum; she wanted him to touch her, to make her scream…
“Number fourteen,” someone barked.
She turned her head. In here, she was a number.
“Dr. Rogers wants to see you in his office,” the orderly reminded her. It was Frown-Face, as she called her. The woman obviously hadn’t been fucked in years.
Leah looked to the dashing prisoner with one last longing glance. He turned the corner and was out of view anyway, giving her reason to just go. She wasn’t hungry anyway. With a sigh she pushed off the wall and walked down the silent halls.
Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t broken by this place. Leah still held that defiant quality about herself. You could see it in the way she walked, the way she pushed her hips forward. She was the same girl that would dress up in slutty clothes and go out with friends; the same twenty-nine year old that wore tight jeans, revealing tops, and flipped her long blonde hair at every guy, just so he would buy her a drink. They were trying to change that about her; break her down and make her a nun. Was that even allowed? Why hadn’t police come to check out her file yet? Did no one miss her? Her family didn’t know where she was, neither did her friends. Shouldn’t they be filing a report by now?
That was her own fault if they didn’t. This wasn’t the first time she’s disappeared out of the blue.
After turning the corner, where all the cells were, she found the oak door of Dr. Rogers’ office. As if she was being sarcastic, she tapped on the door with her knuckles and burst into the room before he could tell her to go or come inside. When she saw him sitting at his desk she gave a curt smile in reply to his seemingly genuine one.
“Good morning, Miss Leah,” he greeted warmly.
Dr. Rogers was a much older man with thinning ginger hair. His beady blue eyes looked weird to her and gave her the chills every time she saw them. Of course he would work at an asylum.
She sat down and looked at the file sitting on his desk. It was her file.
“Yes,” he said, noticing where she was looking. “I’ve been reading over your file this morning. It seems you’ve made a lot of progress with your transition.”
Leah frowned, “Transition?”
He nodded, “You haven’t made any complaints or put up any struggles lately. Your therapy is going very well, also,”
She snorted and leaned back in her chair. Therapy; if you could call it that. Basically he told Leah that sex was bad, sex was hurtful, and it should only take place if you’re ‘creating life’. She wondered if he was still a virgin. If he knew how good if felt he wouldn’t be telling her any of this.
“Your condition isn’t nearly as bad as it was when you came here.”
She lifted a brow at him, “Condition? I hardly call liking to fuck a condition.”
He frowned, “Leah, you know we don’t speak like that around here. If you’re going to talk like this then I suggest you go to your cell and spend the rest of the day in solitude-”
She shook her head quickly, “No, I’m sorry, I won’t talk like that anymore…”
Dr. Rogers smiled, “Good. Now, I just wanted to tell you…if things continue this well, you’ll be out of here within a month.”
Happiness welled inside of her. Getting out of this place seemed like a dream that couldn’t come true. She had been here for so long that it didn’t just feel like a year anymore; it felt like a lifetime. Sometimes she thought she would die here. Being told she would be let out…it was better than the sweetest wine.
“But no shenanigans,” he reminded her with a playful wink.
No shenanigans.
Lunch was the same as usual; that crappy, goopy shit that they call mac and cheese with some stale apple slices and a carton of Kool-Aid. It was disgusting, but she learned to stand it a while ago. Today, however, Leah was thankful for this shit-meal. If she would be getting out of here soon, she would do anything they told her to do. Except take those pills. She saw what happened when people took those pills. They changed.
Harris sat beside her, eating his meal. Even if he was a psychotic killer who talked to himself a lot, she found his company the least annoying. He rambled on about the lunch, complaining how all he wanted was a ‘motherfucking ham and cheese sandwich’. She smirked and listened to him, knowing he had to get this off his chest, like he did every day.
“And these motherfucking apple slices. Who the fuck grows apples that taste like cardboard ass?” he griped, poking at his apples, looking at them with such pure hate.
She giggled, “That’s what you said yesterday.”
“And the God damn Kool-Aid. I’m a grown ass man, I don’t need no motherfucking Kool-Aid,” he continued.
Leah smirked and picked her head up. Vaguely listening to Harris now, she looked all around the room, at all the tables. Dr. Rogers’ comment about ‘no shenanigans’ and him promising to let her out played in her head as she searched the washed up faces. Yes, she knew it would only tempt her, but what was wrong with looking? No one told her she couldn’t look. They just said she couldn’t touch.
Then she found him. He was sitting alone at one of the tables, looking around the room, not touching his food. She took in his striking features again. He had a hint of stubble on his strong chin. She wondered what the feel of that stubble on her neck would feel like… That was almost her favorite part of sex; the feel of stubble scratching down her skin…
“-Are you even listening to me, kid?” Harris snapped.
“God damn cheese, huh?” she echoed, knowing the conversation would be the same as yesterday and the day before.
“Yeah – I hate it. I really do.”
“I do, too, Harris. Hey, do you know who that is?” Leah pointed to the guy sitting alone. He was studying the table next to him with all of the battered women who stuck together. A look of strange curiosity buried in his eyes.
Harris shrugged, “Some new nut job. Don’t talk to him, Leah, he’s a crazy bastard.”
She smirked at him, “So are you,”
“Yeah, but I’m old and can’t do shit anymore. This prick looks ready to burst.”
Sometimes Leah wondered if Harris had Tourette's. She grinned at him and patted his shoulder, “Yes, but I can handle myself. I’m gonna go see what he did.”
He rolled his old, milky eyes at her, “Your funeral…”
Leah slowly got up from the table, thinking about what she could say. She looked around at the orderlies who vaguely paid attention to everyone. Would they report that she instantly went to the first hot guy she saw? Would that affect her chances of getting out of here?
It didn’t matter though, right? She was just asking him what he did to get in here.
Convinced she was being innocent, which never once happened in her life, she continued to walk to his table. A few heads picked up to watch her, but her eyes stayed locked on him. When he realized someone was approaching he looked up, as well. His eyes looked her up and down, smoking over with amusement.
Without asking if it was okay, she sat down in the chair across from him. They watched each other for a moment, waiting for someone to say something. Leah noted that he had bedroom eyes; eyes that she wanted to see looking down at her as he pumped into her…
“I’m Leah,” she introduced herself.
“I’m Alex,” he responded coolly. She rolled his named around in her mind, imagining how she could cry it out. He lifted a hand and rubbed his scruffy chin, sending a chill down her spine. She wanted to touch him so badly. The smell of a male across from her drove her wild. She could smell the faint bit of cologne he had been wearing when they committed him. She liked it.
“So, Alex, what did you do to wind up in the loony bin?” she asked bluntly.
He smirked, “Nothing. I’m innocent.”
She shrugged, “That’s what they all say.”
“Then what did you do?” he lifted a brow.
“Nothing; I’m innocent.”
Alex looked over her face, studying her, before sighing and standing up. “I better get to Dr. Rogers’ office. I was told he wanted to see me.”
She frowned inwardly and stood as well. Even if she wasn’t going to touch him, being in the presence of an attractive man was comforting. She wanted to sit here and talk to him, breathe in his scent, and imagine his rough hands on her smooth skin, even if she couldn’t actually feel them.
“Well it was nice to meet-” she began but he cut her off.
“However, I don’t know where his office is. Can you show me?”
It was begging for trouble, she knew. Something about the way he opened up to that sentence, the way he said it, and the way he looked at her…it all felt all too familiar. Those fake situations she would make up just to get some man alone and screw him in an alley or wherever she could find; she knew them very well. However, this was a new one. Can you show me to the therapist’s office? She would definitely add that to her book.
“Sure,” she agreed nonetheless.
As they walked out of the cafeteria she looked over her shoulder at Harris. She didn’t know what she expected, maybe a fatherly glance telling her she shouldn’t be doing this, but he was far too busy complaining about his food to some other poor soul. She turned back and followed Alex. In the back of her mind a voice told her this was wrong; he was leading her, she wasn’t leading him. The way he strode through the halls, like he owned the place, sent pleasures through her legs. Power emanated from him, and she wanted that. Something about bringing a dominant man to his knees and making him beg was just so thrilling.
No, she scolded herself, you can’t set yourself back. He’ll tell, someone will hear you two – Dr. Rogers will find out somehow.
Then it hit her. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Dr. Rogers told her this morning she would be getting out soon if she was good, and this beautiful creature just magically appears? He must be a trap; someone Dr. Rogers hired to see if she really is ‘cured’. Suddenly she watched him with skeptic eyes instead of wanting eyes. He was bait, she was sure of it.
Listen to yourself, she hissed in her mind, you sound like a fucking crazy woman. You’re letting this place get to you. No one is out to get you. Plus, it’s not like you’re going to do anything; you’re just taking him to Dr. Rogers’ office. Maybe seeing that old fart’s face will calm you down. That usually sucks all the craving out of you.
Quietly, she continued to follow him. It took her another moment to realize she was following him still, not leading. Then it took her another moment to realize they weren’t going to Dr. Rogers’ office; they were going the opposite direction.
“Um, it’s this way,” she said, pointing over her shoulder.
Alex didn’t even turn to look at where she was pointing, he just kept going. She sighed and followed him.
“Look, new guy, I don’t think you should be walking around the asylum like this; they’ll punish you.”
“Punish me?” he asked, still not turning around.
“Yeah,”
They turned down another hallway, heading towards the showers. She wondered what he was doing.
“Like what?” he pressed.
“Like cane you.”
“Cane?”
She was getting frustrated now. What did this idiot not understand about punishment? She grabbed his shoulder, causing him to finally stop and look at her. “Yes! As in hit the both of us with thick wooden canes on our asses. They still do that here.”
“But that’s illegal,” he cocked his head.
She shrugged, “They’re barbaric here. They stick to the old methods because they,” she made air quotations with her fingers, “think it will cure us faster.”
Alex shook his head and continued down the hallway, now entering the shower room. No one was in there since it wasn’t shower day, but she was still beginning to panic. Normally she wouldn’t give two shits, but what if Dr. Rogers really meant what he said? What if she would be getting out soon and she was now putting that possibility at risk? She didn’t have to follow him in here; she could leave whenever she wanted. He would get in trouble, not her. What was keeping her here?
“Did you not hear me?” she snapped, her voice echoing against the tile walls. A slow drip of water from one of the leaking showerheads tapped throughout the room. Alex turned to her and stood right in front of her, towering above her head. Leah was pretty average sized for a woman, but this man made her feel downright puny.
“I heard you. You know what else I’ve heard? That you enjoy a good fucking every now and again. Now, why don’t you unbutton those jeans for me, sweetie?” he asked.
She gasped, taken aback by his blunt words. Normally she loved it when guys talked like that, but today was not one of those days. The thought of him just being bait egged into her mind again. When in reality would this ever happen?
“No,” she stated firmly.
He smirked, “Why not?”
“Because I’m getting out soon,”
Alex snorted, “That’s bullshit.”
“Dr. Rogers said-”
“Dr. Rogers is a complete asshole and tells everyone here they’re getting out soon ‘if they’re good’. He just wants to get everyone’s hopes up and watch their faces when he breaks them down.”
She frowned, “How do you know that?”
He hesitated for a second before saying, “I escaped a couple years ago. They caught me yesterday in a motel. I’ve been running from the police just to get away from this shit hole.”
Leah watched him carefully, not knowing what to think. She had heard men say some stupid stuff just to get in her pants, but this was ridiculous. Finally sense took over and she shook her head, “Whatever, I’m getting out of here. Try not to sit on the cafeteria chairs after they cane you.”
As she turned around to leave a hand reached out and grabbed her. Alex yanked her back, pulling her against his chest with her back turned to him. She could feel the beginnings of his hard length on her ass. He leaned down and pushed her hair to the side, pressing his stubble to her neck. She jerked with a gasp at the feel. A fire came to life inside of her; a fire she had tried to smother while she was here. A small moan escaped her mouth as she bucked her hips slightly. More; she wanted more.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Alex husked at her.
Leah closed her eyes tight, listening to the cries of the other…prisoners of Rogers Sanitarium. With its harsh fluorescent lights, steel doors painted generic blue, and bleached linoleum floors; it was painfully modern. The cries of the others echoed against the walls, like they did every single day since she was committed to this place. They drove her crazy some days, but she knew she couldn’t let it get to her. If they got to her then she would be in here for a reason. No, she couldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Leah Benson wasn’t mentally insane; there wasn’t anything unstable about her. Others would disagree, but Leah was perfectly normal if you asked her. What was wrong with knowing what you like? What was wrong with enjoying the way people touched you; men and women? She shook her head, trying hard to banish those wonderful thoughts and feelings. If they found her touching herself they would punish her again. The sound of the cane against her bare flesh sounded through her ears again. She flinched.
A key rattled at the lock of her door and her eyes flew open. An orderly came into her room, dressed in perfect white, with a blank look on his old face. He had been here for a long time, or at least that’s what she’s heard. She’s only been here for less than a year, but others have seen time grate away at this place. Leah watched the nameless orderly hold out her clean clothes and small cup of pills.
“I’m not taking those,” she told him for the three-hundredth-thirty-second time. She was keeping count.
He sighed and took the pills back. It was just a feeble attempt; they didn’t try to force her anymore. Not after she caused an orderly to get ten stitches in his arm when she bit him. “Fine,” he muttered, just handing her the clothes.
She took them and watched him walk out of the room, hating the feel of the warmth seeping out of her lower body; the attraction fleeing her body quickly. Her fantasies had been interrupted, like always. She supposed it was a good thing, since she couldn’t have fought the temptation much longer. It had been an entire two months since she fingered herself. The orgasm had been so intense, from the sexual frustration, that she cried out and they caught her. They whipped her twenty times that night and threatened to whip her forty the next time.
Leah stood and undressed. She hated the way the cold air stabbed her skin as she took off her pajamas. They refused to turn the heat up in here, even if it was almost December. However, she stood for a moment with her back turned to the door, feeling the cool air caress her breasts and slide across her folds. She shivered. How long had it been since a man touched her?
Footsteps broke her out of her thoughts. Everyone was coming out of their rooms and going to breakfast. She clipped on her bra and slid on her panties as quickly as possible. They gave her the most covering, unflattering kinds they could find. She felt like a grandma in these. If it were up to her she wouldn’t wear them at all, but she would be whipped for that too. Apparently it would cause her to ‘relapse’. What did it matter to them if she found herself sexy? She put on her denim shirt and old jeans, as well as some ripped up sneakers, before exiting her cell and going into the hall. She looked around; looking at all of the faces she had come to know. Harris, the old man who shot his wife and kids seventeen years ago, scuttled through the halls in his robe and slippers. They allowed him to stay in them since they figured he would die soon anyway. Samantha, the thirty year old woman who heard voices, leaned against the wall and stared at everyone with moody eyes. When she saw Leah her eyes darkened and she quickly continued to look around.
Everyone else just marched after the orderlies, wanting their breakfast. She watched them walk, defeated and doped on pills, towards the front. As she watched them she saw a new face. He stared ahead with intense brown eyes, his head covered in black hair and his skin pale. He looked strong; obviously he had just gotten in. This place wears you down, until you have no muscle. He looked built, healthy, and sexy. Leah watched intently. He was the first attractive guy she had seen in a very long time; of course she was going to stare. As he walked with the others she watched the way he strode instead of slumped; how he stood tall. She felt her legs weaken beneath her. God, she wanted someone like that. She didn’t care what he did to earn a room in the asylum; she wanted him to touch her, to make her scream…
“Number fourteen,” someone barked.
She turned her head. In here, she was a number.
“Dr. Rogers wants to see you in his office,” the orderly reminded her. It was Frown-Face, as she called her. The woman obviously hadn’t been fucked in years.
Leah looked to the dashing prisoner with one last longing glance. He turned the corner and was out of view anyway, giving her reason to just go. She wasn’t hungry anyway. With a sigh she pushed off the wall and walked down the silent halls.
Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t broken by this place. Leah still held that defiant quality about herself. You could see it in the way she walked, the way she pushed her hips forward. She was the same girl that would dress up in slutty clothes and go out with friends; the same twenty-nine year old that wore tight jeans, revealing tops, and flipped her long blonde hair at every guy, just so he would buy her a drink. They were trying to change that about her; break her down and make her a nun. Was that even allowed? Why hadn’t police come to check out her file yet? Did no one miss her? Her family didn’t know where she was, neither did her friends. Shouldn’t they be filing a report by now?
That was her own fault if they didn’t. This wasn’t the first time she’s disappeared out of the blue.
After turning the corner, where all the cells were, she found the oak door of Dr. Rogers’ office. As if she was being sarcastic, she tapped on the door with her knuckles and burst into the room before he could tell her to go or come inside. When she saw him sitting at his desk she gave a curt smile in reply to his seemingly genuine one.
“Good morning, Miss Leah,” he greeted warmly.
Dr. Rogers was a much older man with thinning ginger hair. His beady blue eyes looked weird to her and gave her the chills every time she saw them. Of course he would work at an asylum.
She sat down and looked at the file sitting on his desk. It was her file.
“Yes,” he said, noticing where she was looking. “I’ve been reading over your file this morning. It seems you’ve made a lot of progress with your transition.”
Leah frowned, “Transition?”
He nodded, “You haven’t made any complaints or put up any struggles lately. Your therapy is going very well, also,”
She snorted and leaned back in her chair. Therapy; if you could call it that. Basically he told Leah that sex was bad, sex was hurtful, and it should only take place if you’re ‘creating life’. She wondered if he was still a virgin. If he knew how good if felt he wouldn’t be telling her any of this.
“Your condition isn’t nearly as bad as it was when you came here.”
She lifted a brow at him, “Condition? I hardly call liking to fuck a condition.”
He frowned, “Leah, you know we don’t speak like that around here. If you’re going to talk like this then I suggest you go to your cell and spend the rest of the day in solitude-”
She shook her head quickly, “No, I’m sorry, I won’t talk like that anymore…”
Dr. Rogers smiled, “Good. Now, I just wanted to tell you…if things continue this well, you’ll be out of here within a month.”
Happiness welled inside of her. Getting out of this place seemed like a dream that couldn’t come true. She had been here for so long that it didn’t just feel like a year anymore; it felt like a lifetime. Sometimes she thought she would die here. Being told she would be let out…it was better than the sweetest wine.
“But no shenanigans,” he reminded her with a playful wink.
No shenanigans.
Lunch was the same as usual; that crappy, goopy shit that they call mac and cheese with some stale apple slices and a carton of Kool-Aid. It was disgusting, but she learned to stand it a while ago. Today, however, Leah was thankful for this shit-meal. If she would be getting out of here soon, she would do anything they told her to do. Except take those pills. She saw what happened when people took those pills. They changed.
Harris sat beside her, eating his meal. Even if he was a psychotic killer who talked to himself a lot, she found his company the least annoying. He rambled on about the lunch, complaining how all he wanted was a ‘motherfucking ham and cheese sandwich’. She smirked and listened to him, knowing he had to get this off his chest, like he did every day.
“And these motherfucking apple slices. Who the fuck grows apples that taste like cardboard ass?” he griped, poking at his apples, looking at them with such pure hate.
She giggled, “That’s what you said yesterday.”
“And the God damn Kool-Aid. I’m a grown ass man, I don’t need no motherfucking Kool-Aid,” he continued.
Leah smirked and picked her head up. Vaguely listening to Harris now, she looked all around the room, at all the tables. Dr. Rogers’ comment about ‘no shenanigans’ and him promising to let her out played in her head as she searched the washed up faces. Yes, she knew it would only tempt her, but what was wrong with looking? No one told her she couldn’t look. They just said she couldn’t touch.
Then she found him. He was sitting alone at one of the tables, looking around the room, not touching his food. She took in his striking features again. He had a hint of stubble on his strong chin. She wondered what the feel of that stubble on her neck would feel like… That was almost her favorite part of sex; the feel of stubble scratching down her skin…
“-Are you even listening to me, kid?” Harris snapped.
“God damn cheese, huh?” she echoed, knowing the conversation would be the same as yesterday and the day before.
“Yeah – I hate it. I really do.”
“I do, too, Harris. Hey, do you know who that is?” Leah pointed to the guy sitting alone. He was studying the table next to him with all of the battered women who stuck together. A look of strange curiosity buried in his eyes.
Harris shrugged, “Some new nut job. Don’t talk to him, Leah, he’s a crazy bastard.”
She smirked at him, “So are you,”
“Yeah, but I’m old and can’t do shit anymore. This prick looks ready to burst.”
Sometimes Leah wondered if Harris had Tourette's. She grinned at him and patted his shoulder, “Yes, but I can handle myself. I’m gonna go see what he did.”
He rolled his old, milky eyes at her, “Your funeral…”
Leah slowly got up from the table, thinking about what she could say. She looked around at the orderlies who vaguely paid attention to everyone. Would they report that she instantly went to the first hot guy she saw? Would that affect her chances of getting out of here?
It didn’t matter though, right? She was just asking him what he did to get in here.
Convinced she was being innocent, which never once happened in her life, she continued to walk to his table. A few heads picked up to watch her, but her eyes stayed locked on him. When he realized someone was approaching he looked up, as well. His eyes looked her up and down, smoking over with amusement.
Without asking if it was okay, she sat down in the chair across from him. They watched each other for a moment, waiting for someone to say something. Leah noted that he had bedroom eyes; eyes that she wanted to see looking down at her as he pumped into her…
“I’m Leah,” she introduced herself.
“I’m Alex,” he responded coolly. She rolled his named around in her mind, imagining how she could cry it out. He lifted a hand and rubbed his scruffy chin, sending a chill down her spine. She wanted to touch him so badly. The smell of a male across from her drove her wild. She could smell the faint bit of cologne he had been wearing when they committed him. She liked it.
“So, Alex, what did you do to wind up in the loony bin?” she asked bluntly.
He smirked, “Nothing. I’m innocent.”
She shrugged, “That’s what they all say.”
“Then what did you do?” he lifted a brow.
“Nothing; I’m innocent.”
Alex looked over her face, studying her, before sighing and standing up. “I better get to Dr. Rogers’ office. I was told he wanted to see me.”
She frowned inwardly and stood as well. Even if she wasn’t going to touch him, being in the presence of an attractive man was comforting. She wanted to sit here and talk to him, breathe in his scent, and imagine his rough hands on her smooth skin, even if she couldn’t actually feel them.
“Well it was nice to meet-” she began but he cut her off.
“However, I don’t know where his office is. Can you show me?”
It was begging for trouble, she knew. Something about the way he opened up to that sentence, the way he said it, and the way he looked at her…it all felt all too familiar. Those fake situations she would make up just to get some man alone and screw him in an alley or wherever she could find; she knew them very well. However, this was a new one. Can you show me to the therapist’s office? She would definitely add that to her book.
“Sure,” she agreed nonetheless.
As they walked out of the cafeteria she looked over her shoulder at Harris. She didn’t know what she expected, maybe a fatherly glance telling her she shouldn’t be doing this, but he was far too busy complaining about his food to some other poor soul. She turned back and followed Alex. In the back of her mind a voice told her this was wrong; he was leading her, she wasn’t leading him. The way he strode through the halls, like he owned the place, sent pleasures through her legs. Power emanated from him, and she wanted that. Something about bringing a dominant man to his knees and making him beg was just so thrilling.
No, she scolded herself, you can’t set yourself back. He’ll tell, someone will hear you two – Dr. Rogers will find out somehow.
Then it hit her. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Dr. Rogers told her this morning she would be getting out soon if she was good, and this beautiful creature just magically appears? He must be a trap; someone Dr. Rogers hired to see if she really is ‘cured’. Suddenly she watched him with skeptic eyes instead of wanting eyes. He was bait, she was sure of it.
Listen to yourself, she hissed in her mind, you sound like a fucking crazy woman. You’re letting this place get to you. No one is out to get you. Plus, it’s not like you’re going to do anything; you’re just taking him to Dr. Rogers’ office. Maybe seeing that old fart’s face will calm you down. That usually sucks all the craving out of you.
Quietly, she continued to follow him. It took her another moment to realize she was following him still, not leading. Then it took her another moment to realize they weren’t going to Dr. Rogers’ office; they were going the opposite direction.
“Um, it’s this way,” she said, pointing over her shoulder.
Alex didn’t even turn to look at where she was pointing, he just kept going. She sighed and followed him.
“Look, new guy, I don’t think you should be walking around the asylum like this; they’ll punish you.”
“Punish me?” he asked, still not turning around.
“Yeah,”
They turned down another hallway, heading towards the showers. She wondered what he was doing.
“Like what?” he pressed.
“Like cane you.”
“Cane?”
She was getting frustrated now. What did this idiot not understand about punishment? She grabbed his shoulder, causing him to finally stop and look at her. “Yes! As in hit the both of us with thick wooden canes on our asses. They still do that here.”
“But that’s illegal,” he cocked his head.
She shrugged, “They’re barbaric here. They stick to the old methods because they,” she made air quotations with her fingers, “think it will cure us faster.”
Alex shook his head and continued down the hallway, now entering the shower room. No one was in there since it wasn’t shower day, but she was still beginning to panic. Normally she wouldn’t give two shits, but what if Dr. Rogers really meant what he said? What if she would be getting out soon and she was now putting that possibility at risk? She didn’t have to follow him in here; she could leave whenever she wanted. He would get in trouble, not her. What was keeping her here?
“Did you not hear me?” she snapped, her voice echoing against the tile walls. A slow drip of water from one of the leaking showerheads tapped throughout the room. Alex turned to her and stood right in front of her, towering above her head. Leah was pretty average sized for a woman, but this man made her feel downright puny.
“I heard you. You know what else I’ve heard? That you enjoy a good fucking every now and again. Now, why don’t you unbutton those jeans for me, sweetie?” he asked.
She gasped, taken aback by his blunt words. Normally she loved it when guys talked like that, but today was not one of those days. The thought of him just being bait egged into her mind again. When in reality would this ever happen?
“No,” she stated firmly.
He smirked, “Why not?”
“Because I’m getting out soon,”
Alex snorted, “That’s bullshit.”
“Dr. Rogers said-”
“Dr. Rogers is a complete asshole and tells everyone here they’re getting out soon ‘if they’re good’. He just wants to get everyone’s hopes up and watch their faces when he breaks them down.”
She frowned, “How do you know that?”
He hesitated for a second before saying, “I escaped a couple years ago. They caught me yesterday in a motel. I’ve been running from the police just to get away from this shit hole.”
Leah watched him carefully, not knowing what to think. She had heard men say some stupid stuff just to get in her pants, but this was ridiculous. Finally sense took over and she shook her head, “Whatever, I’m getting out of here. Try not to sit on the cafeteria chairs after they cane you.”
As she turned around to leave a hand reached out and grabbed her. Alex yanked her back, pulling her against his chest with her back turned to him. She could feel the beginnings of his hard length on her ass. He leaned down and pushed her hair to the side, pressing his stubble to her neck. She jerked with a gasp at the feel. A fire came to life inside of her; a fire she had tried to smother while she was here. A small moan escaped her mouth as she bucked her hips slightly. More; she wanted more.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Alex husked at her.
Jane
- 22.09.2020
- 8
- 0
- Category:
- Straight Sex
