WARNING:
Non-con, mild knife play (no blood drawn). Characters are in their mid-20s.
Dean looked at the pretty therapist tied up in the chair across him. East Asian, petite; she was wearing a cute summer top and a mini skirt; her dark shoulder-length hair was curled into waves. She looked vastly different from her usual professional, uptight self. Well, it was Friday after business hours after all. He seemed to have caught her at a good (or bad?) time when she came back to retrieve something from her office.
But what he liked the most was the look in her moon-shaped eyes. They were usually assertive, distant, and full of judgement, or pity--which he hated. Pity for him, because he was broken, according to these notes. Now that they had switched seats, with her delicate arms restrained to the chair arms, he could feel the change in the air. Her pretty eyes were fearful, vulnerable, powerless.
He looked back down to read her notes, catching words that jabbed at him like a hot knife.
Unstable. Volatile. Angry.
"Dean, I think you know what you are doing is wrong." She tried to sound steady and failed miserably.
"Overall, how would you describe your mood?" Dean asked. He stared at her with his ocean blue eyes and plastered a charming but ingenuine smile on his face.
She squirmed uncomfortably as his eyes drank in her body, head to toe. She kept her legs squeezed tight together. Her mini skirt was much too short. She said nothing.
"Answer me, Dr. Cheung. Thought you'd be good at this."
"We're not here to analyze me."
"How do you feel, sitting in that chair?"
"Dean--"
"What is the problem from your viewpoint?"
"We're trying to help you."
Dean closed her notebook with a thud, his expression frosty. "You can't. I'm done with this. You're going to tell the court I completed all my sessions. Write fake notes. I don't care. I'm out of here."
"I can't do that."
He stood up abruptly and let the notebook drop to the floor; paper scattered around with a rustle. She cringed away instinctively as he advanced and got down to her level.
"Kate, right?" He looked at her, unsmiling. "I don't think you want to be here any longer, do you? Tell the court I completed my sessions. We're done. You won't have to see me again."
"I can't!" Kate said indignantly, her voice stubborn. Her ample chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing.
"You
won't
," he corrected. Dean pushed his blond curls away from his face and caught sight of the letter opener on the side table next to her chair. A word from her notebook jumped out to him.
Impulsive.
He grabbed the letter opener and her eyes widened.
"Oh god, please, Dean, please..." She struggled against the ropes on her wrists but she wasn't going anywhere.
Dean poked the blade against his finger. The letter opener was dull. Good. He didn't want to make her bleed. Though the blade was dull, the spaghetti straps of her summer top gave promptly. With two swift cuts, her round tits were exposed.
"Stop! Stop!" Kate cried, panicked by the sudden turn of events.
He covered her mouth with one strong hand. "Ssshh." Dean looked at her creamy fair skin and brought the letter opener to her upper arm. Kate whined against his hand. "It's better if you sit still," he warned.
The words
sadistic
and
control
from her notebook came to his mind. He kept one hand on her mouth and his other hand dragged the letter opener across her skin slowly. Her body trembled, feeling cold and hot. The dull blade left three scratches on her arm, pink and slightly raised, looking like whip marks. He then brought the blade up to her cheek, satisfied to see her horrified look, then down to her hard, sensitive nipples, teasing her with the cold metal.
He untied her, and she was compliant as a doll when he bent her over on the nearby sofa. He lifted her mini skirt to expose her petite bubble ass. He pressed the letter opener on her soft ass cheek and she whimpered.
He marked an X on one ass cheek and listened to her soft grunts. She grimaced as he added three more scratches, lined up neatly, on the other ass cheek. She was just a canvas for him to doodle on.
He groaned at the sight before him as his cock became painfully tight in his jeans. He unbuckled his belt and let his cock spring free. Kate was a beautiful woman, one who was...awfully quiet right now.
"Sit up," Dean ordered, and pulled her up on her knees on the sofa so he could see her face. She looked like she was in a trance. Her eye makeup was ruined from the tears but she wasn't crying anymore. Her lips quivered.