u/Robbie_Rotten666

###CONTENT WARNINGS: >!BIOMECHANICAL BONDAGE, VIOLENCE/GORE, EXAGGERATED DEPICTIONS OF DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITY AND MENTAL ILLNESS, FISTING!<

This is the final part of a three part story.

***

The Patient stepped forward, his hand at Michelle's throat forced her to splay out her legs to allow him to drive her onto her back on his bed. Harsh hands at her hips wrestled her to him in a quick jerk, and she gasped. The change in position spilled warm fluid out of her ass, and if she hadn't been so focused on what The Patient was doing, it might have disgusted her.

His massive arms scooped around her legs, the back of her knees held in the crook of his elbows, pressure pushing her thighs apart. His hands clasped her biceps, her eyes bleeding up into his as she awaited his actions with a swarm of anxiety tainted with something she didn't want to think about right now.

He pushed all of his cock into her cunt and there was nothing conflicted about the breathless moan that seeped out of her parted lips. Then he lifted her and stood, as easily as if she were the pillow that had been a few inches above her head.

He wasn't pushing himself into her now, he was pulling her down onto him. He was supporting most of her but she still felt like her entire weight was suspended on his cock, impaled. Her hands found some purchase on the back of his shoulders, her nails bit his flesh, not out of reluctance, but something that was quickly metamorphosing into that same comfort of familiarity that she struggled to understand.

He lifted her and brought her back down, lifted her, brought her back down. She may as well have been a corpse for all she could do about it. She could feel the futility of any test of strength in the ripples of his muscled arms that moved her small frame over his intruding flesh, never really leaving her over half way before crashing inside of her again, the spread of her legs giving him access to more depth than she had ever experienced. It made her feel full and empty at once.

She couldn't see, but she wasn't even sure if she was deep enough to take all of the eight inch cock she was sliding up and down on through no effort of her own. How long had she been moaning like this? She echoed in the cold cell. Where had the others gone? Her entire focus was on The Patient…and the faint tugs of something building in her core. She had long ago abandoned dignity, but she found herself trying to solidify her jaw to keep it from hanging limp and stupid under The Patient's gaze, but she kept losing herself in this feeling of subjugation she had no idea that she was so hard wired for. It was becoming a reckless abandon, that numb tingle that built somewhere, teasing her brain with a hostile takeover.

Up and down she went, but she found her confines tightening themselves around him, found herself squeezing the round muscles of her ass to give a rolling tilt to her hips in time with his furious strokes of her body. She bounced like a glass bottle on pavement, every impact another chance for her to break. His words were labored and clambering, like they climbed their way out of his body against some resistance.

Good fucking girl.

After all, it wasn't an impact that broke her, but words. She shattered on his cock, melted in his ruthless deathclutch, and her head fell limp against his shoulders, lolling bonelessly against his renewed manhandling of her spasming tightness. Her thighs rebounded off his own as her flesh heaved with a spent lifelessness, she could feel her breasts rub his own chest, she was still clenching herself around him as he worked her over himself until finally, with a closing, downward heave she thought would rupture her with his throbbing length, she felt her pussy fill for what she suddenly realized was the only time that night. She felt it seep out of him and flood her, flow out with the gravity of her position, drip like blood from a wound to pitter-patter on the floor, rain on a sidewalk.

The way he tossed her onto the mattress was physically almost gentle but mentally, it seared. She found herself wishing in the swollen, barely conscious aftermath of this ordeal that he had held her. She was stricken with the sudden realization that the woman she had been when she clocked in to work this evening shift was a corpse somewhere in this cell.

The Muscular One's voice was too high for his frame. The Silent One's was grating and disused. The Muscular One was knelt on his feet with his back in a corner, The Silent One stood with his head still tilted. Their voices sounded worried now that the clarity that followed such endeavors had firmly sunken in. She couldn't make out their words, she was fighting to maintain alertness at this point, a tiredness was seeping into her bones so profound that she thought she could sleep then and never wake up. A furtive flit of her eyes saw The Fat One ambling towards her, darkness was threatening to envelop her again. It took a great act of will for her to open her eyes again to search for The Patient, but ^where had he gone?

Sight faded, she heard the panicked whispers of The Silent One and The Muscular One, she heard The Fat One shifting next to her. His malformed fingers clutched her thigh, eyes fluttered again. He had his cock in his hand. ^Where was The Patient?

Probing fingers found her punished vulva, she squirmed as his fingers tugged at the trimmed tufts of hair there. She was too weak to mount any effective resistance, her eyes opened but the forlorn repulsion in the eyes she brought to meet the wet orbs of The Fat One was completely lost on his diminished capacity.

There were weights on her eyelids, they closed again, but burst open when she felt The Fat One's closed fist spread her flesh, entering her with the aid of The Patient's spilt seed. She cried out as The Fat One moved his whole hand in and out of her, her head bobbing with the force of him, her body still limp under his assault.

His stubby left hand worked over his thick cock, while his right felt like it was opening inside of her. His nails were sharp and he had no real regard for what he was doing to her. She felt herself lacerate, was certain she could feel blood as he twisted and turned his fingers inside of her, his mouth a slack, gaping wound of inarticulate sounds, like a low bank of wind across the mouth a tunnel.

Were those boot steps echoing down B block? Her eyes opened into slits, she could feel the shifting presences of The Muscular One and The Silent One as they moved from their corner. The Fat One felt like he was trying to pull his open hand free from her, but her bones were in the way. He was pulling her down in the bed by her cunt, and this moan was not a confused mix of anything, it was pure agony. Her body was still limp, her attention still hazy but she was sure now she could hear flurries of motion outside the cell.

"18B, clear."

An unfamiliar voice, an air of authority and rehearsed precision. She heard similar calls for 19B, 20B…

A burst of gun fire opened her eyes wide as pieces of The Muscular One splattered to the floor, the wall opposite the door, and hung in the air as crimson droplets. The Silent One had frozen half way to the way to the door. The Fat One sent his fist into her cervix and she almost wretched.

"Form up, 25B."

Boot steps in unison. Michelle wanted to cry out, but all that came out of her mouth was a twisted peal of despair. Black shapes came to the door, The Silent One's head exploded into mist, the rest of him fell bodily among the echoing cacophony of a reverberating gunshot. Michelle saw goggled eyes survey the scene, saw a man in body armor struggle to process what he saw before him.

"Civilian, hold your fire."

More shadowy figures were behind the first, spreading out just inside the door, guns leveled on The Fat One.

"Get your…stop…step away from the woman!"

Blurred, meaningless vowel sounds answered, Michelle felt the thick warmth of The Fat One's cum on her face, but then there was another, even warmer splatter across her bare, the ringing chaos of a gun's report, and then blackness.

***

Michelle awoke to heart monitors and oxygen masks, unimaginable pain and a deep-seated confusion. Someone had asked her for a statement, but she didn't have words. The inky black of chemical sleep punctuated episodes of recovering coherence. She passed out while someone was stitching her somewhere below her waist. She awoke to the invasive prick of an IV. She faded while a nurse changed her incontinence brief. When she regained herself, a tall man with a badge hanging from his neck stood over her.

"I'll be here whenever you're ready."

His words sounded muddled, and her own words proved evasive.

"I do want you to know that we got them, Michelle. All three."

Cracked, bruised, broken lips parted, a dusty voice snuck out between them, forming the only word she had spoken in…what day was it?

^...three…?

###Stay Fucked-RR

###CONTENT WARNINGS: >!FORCED ORAL, ANAL, VAGINAL GANGBANG WITH DOUBLE PENETRATION. PHYSICAL OVERPOWERMENT. EXAGGERATED DEPICTIONS OF DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITY AND/OR MENTAL ILLNESS!<

##This is part two of a three part story.

***

Michelle had lost count of how many times her psyche had fractured during what had already been the worst night of her life. The three shapes shambled in when The Patient beckoned. All of them had shed their clothes already. Michelle didn't know them, they weren't from B Block. One was short and stunted, all stubby fingers and a bulging belly beneath an overlarge, misshapen head. His mouth made a low pitched keening that sounded like nothing human, his broken gait that brought him to Michelle's crying crumpled form filled her with repulsion. The second was tall, though not quite the six and a half feet of The Patient. His muscular upper body rippled with latent destruction. Eyes were gray steel, lumbering steps intent and eager. The final man was average sized and silent. Not just that he didn't say anything, but he wore silence the way another man might wear a shirt. His steps were ghosts, his mouth formed no words, but his head tilted to one side to regard Michelle like a dog eyeing a new toy. When his hand found her hair to drag her up to her knees, Michelle found herself almost surprised to find his grasp corporeal. His cock was bigger than she would have expected, and just as real as the hand in her hair as it pressed against her lips.

She found her will to fight was still quite obliterated, as he slid into her mouth she found herself suckling the member intently without thinking, feeling it grow in her mouth. The Muscular One had moved to her left, next to The Silent One, she felt him guide her hand to his own body, felt the blood rising in the engorging flesh she grasped, just as The Silent One found her throat and stole her breath.

Somewhere just above her brainstem, wires were crossed where they shouldn't be. Between the rhythmic glicks that came from the cock moving in and out of her esophagus, what should have been whines of despair were coming out as husky moans of…something else. ^What the fuck was wrong with her?

The Patient was pacing behind the three that crowded her, The Fat One was to her right, stroking a stubby, thick cock with short, misshapen fingers. A nudge from The Patient had him step forward, sweaty, impatient fingers yanked her hair from the other side, pulling The Silent One's cock from her throat with a glistening pop. The Fat One's cock barely reached her throat, but stretched her mouth hard; the thought of biting one of them filled her with a broken-glass dread of an unspoken and fatal reprisal.

Both his hands grasped her head now, not her hair, and moved it furiously to match his frantic thrusts, hijacking her senses and her focus as she struggled to accommodate the girth assaulting her face. The sudden explosion of a sick stickiness in her mouth made her wretch and the jiggling mass of a man let out a sound like a deaf man's death knell. The Muscular One laughed, Michelle hardly had a chance to push the revolting taste of The Fat One's cum out of her mouth and down her neck and chest before she found her throat subjected to the long, slow and measured thrusts of The Muscular One's six inches of cock, her eyes reflexively turning up to look at the surgical scalpel glint of his eyes bearing down at her, and he gave a hitched, low grunt before he held her down on him, his eyes cutting into hers for the long moment that he controlled her breath. She counted the seconds. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. He let her go.

She backed her body up from The Muscular One's cock, dripping with her own friction-thickened saliva and breathed deeply for a moment, before a familiar hand clutched her hair and pulled her to her right.

The familiarity she felt when The Patient pushed his cock into her mouth made her stomach churn. She could still taste herself upon it, the dried mess from her previous ordeal. It hardened in her mouth, and that familiarity morphed into something that felt sinisterly like…accomplishment?

Michelle shoved that feeling down, pushed it away, let her focus wander. She realized she had been staring out the open door to the cell for several moments without even thinking of escape, but that thought reminded her to look up at The Patient's downward leer. There was something in it that made her give up just a little more, her head moved to take him without his monstrous hands having to pull as hard. The slap he gave her when he pulled his length free felt like…praise.

His hands nudged her back towards The Silent One, on the far left of her, his hand moving over himself slowly. She took him in her mouth without a prompt, without a word, and pushed herself toward his hulking frame to send his cock down her throat herself. ^Was she still just doing what she needed to?

"Good girl."

The Patient's bass-baritone rumble washed over her like she had been freezing and someone poured warm water over the back of her head, down her spine. She purred around The Silent One. ^What was she doing?

The Fat One watched from a corner. She could feel his eyes, she could see him touching himself, and hear the vulgar creaks of wordless sound coming from his twisted mouth. He liked to watch her suck cock. She was repulsed by everything about him, but his attention made her feel something unnamable that she struggled to accept.

The Patient's hand around her throat pulled her free of the intrusion to her throat with a silken slip of a sound. His fingers closed, and in a brief moment of something like L'appel du vide, she wanted it. She wanted to give him her breath, to be squeezed out of herself and into his waiting dark. But no. He didn't squeeze much, he was guiding her. She found herself on her feet for the first time in what felt like hours as the patient pushed her towards his bed.

It was a low, spare thing of bare minimums and safe angles, and his firm fingers at her neck saw her to it, placed her upon it, on her knees, her emptying head towards the footboard, as easily as one might put a toy on a shelf. The Patient and The Silent One stood opposite her, across the curved edges of the solid faux-wood footboard, she didn't even realize when she took another cock in her mouth, and felt the shade of The Muscular One move behind her. Her back was arched, presenting like a bitch in heat. Locked away somewhere, whatever small part of her mind that was left whole was shrieking no. What was her body saying? Things were starting to blur, to fracture. It was another several moments before she thought to even care enough to determine which of the two behemoths was fucking her aching throat.

It was The Silent One. She was moving her mouth and throat over him with motions that were beginning to feel unsettlingly automatic. Breathe, swallow him, hold, breathe…was this desperation? Determination? ^Something else?

She felt fingers rise between her legs, there was a cock-muffled sound from her throat that did not sound nearly as oppositional as she wanted it to. Somewhere, deeper than she dared speculate, the woman Michelle was when she walked into this cell was revolted. The woman that reacted to the two strong fingers that pushed her cunt apart was a totally new creature. ^How did those fingers go in so easily?

When The Patient's firm hand pulled her face away from The Silent One's body, the throaty moan that left her lips echoed more like pleasure than acceptance, and the shattered Michelle that screamed inside her head gave a knee-jerk recoil. The Muscular One, behind where she bent over to expose herself to him, shifted himself into a different position. She felt him slip inside her, at the same time she took The Patient into her throat, her eyes turned up, tears streamed, but no makeup remained and she realized the tears came from the physicality and not…

She shuddered. No. Something burned at the base of her spine, an unscratchable itch tugged somewhere she didn't want to look. What the fuck is this? The Muscular One had taken to sending his hips colliding into hers, slow, hard and merciless. She felt her ass bounce as he pulled it back to meet him, his cock sending jolts through her whole body, and they grew stronger until, all at once…while Michelle had broken before…this time…she melted. She slid into an animal warmth that shook her frame in frantic pulses, and just when she thought it was going to end, The Patient's throbbing length stole her breath and it came again…she...came again.

Where had that little voice gone? Where was her cloistered self to admonish her for giving in so easily, for not fighting or running or doing anything but…

"Good fucking girl."

It felt like it came from a great distance. Drowned out by the tumult of silence, the only sounds slapping flesh, her used throat, and the pitiful little moans she was letting out around The Patient's throbbing cock against her will. ^Did she have a will?

None of the men had stopped. It was only her languishing in a spent limbo, they were still going full force. There was an encroaching numbness that felt like home. She gagged herself on The Patient, she bucked back against The Muscular One, she hadn't even realized that her hand was furiously working the flesh of The Silent One.

When The Patient pulled himself free of her, she didn't waste a moment in taking The Silent One in his place, moving her head up and down over every inch of his hardness. She didn't need his hands anymore, she knew when to move herself up down, when to breathe, when to breathe him in instead, and stare up at him as if begging to be allowed the oxygen to continue to live. Behind her, the relentless pounding had stopped, there was some shuffling. ^Was The Patient finally going to fuck her?

She devoted all of her attention to The Silent One's cock, The Fat One was moving in the edges of her vision, there was motion behind her, her hips rose and she braced against the footboard. A moment later, she was looking down at the gruff face of The Muscular One. Her hips fell again, and she knew it was The Patient's hands on her hips, guiding them down, impaling her on The Muscular One's cock. The face between her small, bouncing tits nipped up and took a nipple between crooked teeth and she shuddered with something she didn't want to stare too hard at. She was bouncing on The Muscular One, gagging on The Silent One and she felt something new. Hands that had to belong to The Patient spread her ass, a long, slender finger that could only be his pushed itself into her asshole with no warning or preamble, and she shuddered again, a low wail vibrating the rigid flesh in her throat. Somewhere she acknowledged something like pain, but it was lost on her in that moment, replaced with something more comforting. A final void felt filled. But then he was back in front of her, and she took him back in her mouth as though that was where he belonged.

The girth of The Fat One's cock cleaved her flesh in two; he had no gentleness about him, and when he shoved his fat cock into the tightness of her ass, that pain was not lost. It burned, it she felt the unnatural spread of herself over him and…

"Good…girl…"

She buried The Patient's cock in her throat and moaned around it as she melted once again, quivering flesh bouncing in three different directions in a way that seemed more like spasms than anything else. She tightened around the massive girth in her ass and felt The Fat One empty himself inside, heard his inarticulate wail, felt every pulse of his length as it drained and went flaccid and got pushed out by her twitching muscles, leaving an emptiness that she suddenly realized felt uncomfortable.

She didn't have long to suffer. The Silent One had stepped behind her, and while her ass was empty, it was as though she tried to fill that void by bouncing harder on The Muscular One, her thighs slapping his as she brought herself down with a fervor that she had surely never shown any other lover she had ever taken.

Michelle was full again, three men tugging her attention different ways, her entire awareness overwhelmed with her tasks. She heaved and spluttered around The Patient's cock while it felt like the other two were wrestling her hips into two halves. The Muscular One was pushing his cock up into her with a furious vengeance that made her ache at least as much if not more than the way The Silent One used her asshole in ways it had never been used before, purposeful, methodical motions spreading her out, she could feel the thin membrane between their two cocks struggle and writhe and she felt so perfectly whole.

Somewhere along the way, Michelle had become something she never knew she could. She had let go of twenty years of preconditioning. She had learned not just to accept this defilement, but to…^could it be that learning to enjoy it was part of staying sane? Was this sanity?

Her throat was undulating on The Patient as she felt The Silent One redouble his efforts; his hands pushed her down on The Muscular One and her eyes fluttered as she felt him against her cervix, held her down while he had his way with her ass. The Silent One's hips moved slower, deeper until she felt him bulge and twitch inside her with a warmth that felt like home.

Something heady was enveloping Michelle, a tumultuous buzz that took over her senses like she had one too many to drink. The four years of nursing education, gone, twenty two years of life experience, erased; this is all she was. Holes. A toy. A woman.

When The Muscular One pulled from her cunt and slid from beneath her, it was the first time this new Michelle had all of her attention on The Patient. She fucked her own throat with his cock, rocking back and forth as desperately as if she expected another orgasm just from choking on him. She held herself down on him, her throat all sounds of rough softness, her eyes held his like a good girl.

She was just beginning to rue her waist-down emptiness when she had a cock in her ass again, The Muscular One taking her asshole the same way he took her cunt when he was behind her. Hips clutched, thrusts full and unforgiving, burying deep each and every time with a force that rocked her forward, only accentuating the motion of her mouth and throat on The Patient's eight inch cock. The cell was full of grunts and groans, cock-muffled exclamations of an ecstasy that Michelle knew should make her feel vile; ^why didn't it?

Hands pulled her hips back so hard that her tiny frame was basically suspended between the two cocks, a mad gasp from behind her preceded another burst of warmth into her guts. The Muscular One had rolled away, her eyes turned up at the face of The Patient, and when he pulled his cock free of her mouth, she looked up at him, exalted, gasping hitching breaths until his hand around her throat stole it again.

Then came those two words, words that filled her with a dread that shapeshifted into something lovely while still in gestation. A full throated rumble erupted from The Patient's lips as his fingers closed around her throat.

"My turn.

##Stay tuned, sick fucks.-RR

###CONTENT WARNINGS: >!FORCED ORAL, INTENSE VIOLENCE/GORE!<

I've posted this before. It's been several years. I got sidetracked with writing and posting due to a slate of bans/lockouts on many of my accounts due to my content. So, I've decided to dip my cock back in and test the waters. I'm reposting to bring attention to my new account. -RR

Darkness was falling outside a milky pane of glass with wire mesh running through it. The effect on the inside of the window was a gloom as sterile as the rest of its environs. Low tones, under breath, scratched in the silence.

"6298...6299..."

STONEBRIDGE STATE HOSPITAL

845 PM

A tall, heavily built man accompanied a tiny slip of a woman down a long corridor, a solid slab of linoleum a pale, sickly, State-approved shade of green. Their steps echoed on the floor, pealed off the walls. The woman pushed a cart. Med pass.

"6833...6834..."

They had been working towards the far end of the corridor by unspoken agreement. They went back and forth between the cells across from each other, 001B to 002B. Ray touched the sensor pad with his keycard. The heavy solid door slid back into the wall with a uniform beep. Michelle chose the correct cup from the lines of prepared doses. Ray went first. She followed with the pills and a small cup of water. 012B. 013B.

"6921...6922..."

023B. 024B. They had saved the easiest for last. The single cell nestled in the far wall of the dead-end corridor. Larger than the others. 025B.

"6511...6512..."

Despite his bloody past, The Patient in 025B had passed eight years at this facility with no further incidents, save for a few violent actions in defense of himself. His treatment plan had therefore provided him with certain privileges. He had the biggest room. He had some privacy. He was allowed his favorite books, though the state had drawn a hard line at a few of his requests...Richard Laymon...Jack Ketchum...

"7043...7044..."

A mechanical beep and a rumble let Ray into the room. He stepped in and half-heartedly screened the room, speaking through a half-smile.

"We ain't gonna have no trouble outta you, are we, now?"

"Of course not, Mr. Ray."

The Patient was a tall man, thin but still somehow powerful; he exuded it, a presence, an aura of potential. He had never given Ray any trouble, but that didn't stop Ray from feeling like he was looking at a failing attempt to keep a shadow in a shoebox. The patient's polite smile reeked with malice. In the shadow, sometimes Ray swore he saw the ghost of blood on his hands.

He ushered Michelle inside with her medicine cup and her water.

"7159...7160..."

"What?"

STONEBRIDGE STATE HOSPITAL

7:59 PM

A deafening buzzer preceeded the lights going out. Patient doors on all the wards slammed shut with a synchronized screech. There were screams, patient and staff both. One, in particular rose above the rest in pitch and timbre. One held confusion and agony to a blood-curdling degree.

In the split second of the buzzer, The Patient had reacted. He had seized Ray's shoulders and shoved his head in the way of the heavy door. The door caught his skull in its clutches, and strained while Ray screamed, before he was silenced with a splatter. His body slumped and in the newfound silence that rose between him and Michelle's quivering form, a mechanical voice blared from a loudspeaker.

"Power outage detected...all staff report to supervisor for instruction...power outage detected...escape failsafe engaged..."

Michelle had never felt smaller in her life. She barely touched five feet and was daintily built, the thinness of her frame broken only by the bumps of middling small breasts and a slight flare of hip. She was shaking where she stood, in the shadow of where The Patient loomed.

"Some...someone will be here soon..."

"No. They won't."

"Y-y-yes...they..."

"7300."

STONEBRIDGE STATE HOSPITAL

8:01 PM

Those same doors that slammed shut, whirred back open. The corridors were drenched in red light.

"Adverse event override...evacuate...adverse event overide...scan for adverse conditions and escort patients to safety"

The mad responded as they were wont to do...unleashing pure mayhem on both one another and those who tried their damndest to keep them from escaping...most unaware of the chosen few who would rather be nowhere else than here.

The door to 025B slid open just as The Patient stood from having knelt over Ray's corpse. Michelle watched him for a moment, eyes darting from motion to motion as he stood to his full height...she dove toward the open door.

The Patient caught her around her waist as easily as one might scoop up a dog trying to escape the house. He tossed her across the cell, and she crumbled to the floor.

The man slid his arm out the door, the keycard on his hand moved over the electronic pad outside. His arm snapped back inside just before the door slammed shut.

Michelle shook in the corner, knelt on her feet, her head covered, just as she was taught, blood from her nose splattering her turquoise scrubs. She had been fortunate that the cell was padded with impact foam, or she would be much worse off than a bloody nose and a sore elbow.

The Patient exhaled hard through his nose as he stepped to close the distance between them. Michelle whimpered, drowning in the abyss of coming to terms with what she faced.

He was massive, looming even larger in the broken shadows and the morass of her fear. The powerlessness she felt was nauseating. He removed his shirt as he walked, confirming the unspoken nightmare of his intentions. He was muscular under the state gray scrub shirt he had been wearing, his frame obviously meticulously built over his years with little else to do. His face was clean shaven, but obscured by the hair his extra privileges allowed him to wear long.

He was there now, towering over her in the corner. She could smell him, a sterile animal scent that scarred her the moment she breathed it in the first time. He exhaled through his nose once again.

"Eight years, two-hundred and seven days, and four hours since I've touched a woman."

His words came slow and eloquent, a smooth bass-baritone. Simple words, not remotely threatening in any other circumstance, rattled around in Michelle's brain like a wasp, breaking her. She wailed, she cried, she clawed at the elastic waistband of his pants, not with violence but with desperation.

"Please..."

"Shhh."

She broke all over again. She had risen up to her knees, she looked up at him, and the eye contact they made, her wide brown eyes meeting orbs the blue green of sea ice, chilled her to her core.

"Just don't...don't...hurt...me."

This seemed to amuse him. He let out a graveled laugh and turned away from her cowering form. He began to pace.

"I certainly don't have to. Much."

She stifled another sob. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor before she stood, knowing better than to fight this hulking behemoth. She resolved to make it out of this alive. To do what she needed to, however terrible it may be. She went suddenly from the most defeated she had ever been to the most empowered.

She leveled her chin with something resembling defiance on her ruined eyeliner-streamed face. He didn't like that. His open hand, nearly the size of her face on its own, flew across the porcelain of her cheek and knocked her back against the wall. She screamed softly, but fear cut it off as he felt those massive hands close on the fabric V at the front of her scrub top. He rent it right in two, the rage on his face showing nothing resembling effort as he exposed the nude colored bra she wore beneath. He lifted her tiny form completely from the floor by the shredded scraps of fabric, his eyes burning down into hers for a moment that seemed like an eternity. He dropped her and she clambered to the ground. He took a step away and rounded on a bare heel.

"You finish."

She looked down so he couldn't see her black-stained tears as she let the tatters of her shirt fall to the floor. She crossed her arms to cover herself instinctively, but a pause in his pacing as she did so urged her on. She reached behind her and unclasped her B cup bra, and let it fall away from her body, the modest mounds of flesh bouncing free with another sob. Again, she crossed her arms over her breasts, rocking on the balls of her feet to lean dejectedly against the padded wall behind her, still looking down.

"Stand straight and look at me."

His voice was a low growl, and she was almost startled by how impulsively she obeyed. Her head shot up, her body snapped erect as though struck by lightning. She was breathing hard, quickly with an anticipatory dread unknown in her life before this moment. He stepped to her, his hands rose and he took both her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pinched so hard she thought he might be trying to tear them off. She screamed, her tears renewed themselves, blinked out of her eyes as she struggled to maintain eye contact with The Patient for fear of another brutal reprimand. He held her flesh hard and gazed down into her cracking eyes before finally releasing her. She realized at some point she had begun holding her breath, and so struggled to reclaim it once his hands moved away.

"And the rest."

It was a statement, not a question. She had already hooked the waist of her pants and panties under her thumbs and bent most of the way over to remove them when she realized what she was doing. Something else was governing her movements now, something primal that just wanted to help her survive. She didn't want to give into it, but she wasn't sure how to stave it off. By the time she finished her line of thought, she was standing bare before him.

The low light in the room gave her pale skin a creamy glow. She kept her hands at her sides, keeping herself exposed to his gaze, a gaze that traveled from her smeared face, over her modest chest, and down to the shadowed triangle between her legs. She felt his disappointed gaze there and when a rush of terror came quickly along behind it, she altered her stance to let him see the neatly trimmed hair that crested her cunt. Unexpectedly, The Patient's face split with an alarming smile.

"Good girl."

There was a release and a relief that came with those words that Michelle wasn't quite comfortable with. Something just above her brainstem thrummed with a basic instinct as his approval washed over her like a physical sensation. She was still terrified, but she felt...safer somehow.

He closed the distance between them. His huge hand rose between her legs and pressed against the mound there, and the emission she meant as a scream came out as a whimper.

As those same hands steered her to her knees, her head craned to keep her eyes on his. There was a fear at what was coming, but more fear at what would happen to her if she didn't submit.

He was already hard when he pushed the waistband of his pants down and let the eight inches of his cock out over it. Her eyes were scanning it when a rising alarm in her mind brought her gaze back up to his. The same instinct let it into her mouth, and relaxed her as it drove into her throat. She gagged as she tried to gasp around it, spluttered as The Patient held it there. When he pulled it out, she breathed, never more appreciative of oxygen in her life. He let the heft of it fall onto her face with a wet slap.

"Good girl. We can work with you."

Again that flood of endorphins swept unbidden through her senses, but her relief hung on a word. We?

She had no time to dwell on it, before he filled her throat again, holding his cock there as a growl rumbled in his chest. When he moved it out the next time, though, it drove back in again. It withdrew partially once more and again, choked her with its girth.

His hips were moving now, but she dared not look anywhere but his eyes. She heaved and struggled against her gag reflex in an effort to take whatever she had to. Finally she could fight no more, and she felt her throat expel him. She gasped in a breath once he was free, but it was cut short by his throbbing length burying itself. His hands rose, took her auburn hair and held her firmly in place, a forward half step on his part placing the back of her head against the wall. His hips bucked as he used her, her throat making inhuman sounds as his massive cock plunged in and out of it, never fully retreating. She found a rhythm; learned to breathe when he wasn't in her throat, to take it down with little struggle.

With a hard thrust, he held her, pinioned against the back wall of the cell, streaming eyes turned up at his, her face a melted Mona Lisa, a masterpiece of degradation.

He pulled from her again, she felt the weight of his cock on her face, her labored breaths hampered by him pressing his balls against her lips. She let him in before she had a clear enough thought to stop herself, she sucked hard and he shuddered, his breath hitched.

There was something to that as well, it triggered something inside her, it made her feel safe, like his approval had. She embraced it even though it repulsed her and she felt a deep hatred rise in her quickly quelled by a disturbingly comfortable sense that she was doing what she needed to do.

He was in her mouth again, in her throat. His thrusts were manic at this point, hard and deep and fast. Her throat was sore now, it spasmed around him, her brain juggling the acts of meeting his gaze with taking his cock exactly the way he wanted her to. What little left of her thoughts were thankful she was against a wall, or else the man might have broken her neck with rabid thrusts.

She still heaved and gagged, choked and spluttered, but it was getting easier and that terrified her more than anything else in that moment. It was like she was outside herself looking in at all the ways this trauma was shaping her thoughts, her mind, her future.

Her eyes had drifted, a hard yank on her hair made her squeal around his intrusion and she brought her eyes back to his just in time to see them flutter, a growl radiating from The Patient's chest, as she felt the hot wave of his cum slip down her throat, with an ease she found alarming.

He held there a few long moments, pulled out of her, and turned towards the door. She slid into the floor, laying on her side, so much muddling in her head she didn't know where to start unpacking what had even happened. She closed her eyes, trying to unfeel the way his cock in her throat juxtaposed cloyingly against the confusion of primal positivity she felt from his praise, from his growls. From his cum. She pushed her nude figure up onto her hands and knees, still gasping for breath.

"Can I...am I...are you through with me?"

He laughed. She sobbed.

"Please, please...I did what you wanted...you said I was good...please..."

"Eight thousand...five hundred and thirty...five."

The cell door beeped and slid open. Michelle saw the salvation of the emergency flood lights for a split second before it was eclipsed by three, massive and masculine shadows.

More to cum.-RR