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Eyes fluttering open, your blurry vision focuses loosely on the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. A wave of discomfort washed over you - your body aching with unfamiliar soreness. Your attempts to sit up are thwarted, fabric straps digging into your wrists and ankles - binding your arms and legs down. Panic surges through you, realizing how helpless you are. Lifting your head as much as you’re able, you’re immediately struck by how familiar the room is - it’s the local hospital. As your heart raced, you could hear the increasing urgency of beeps from the multitude of monitors attached to your chest.
Before you had the time to properly panic or thrash about, the door to the private room swung open - Doctor Harper entering in her white coat, clipboard in hand. Glasses perched on the end of her nose, she pushed them up her bridge as she raised her gaze to you for the first time.
“Ah, Hello. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. This is all a part of standard treatment for somebody of your… condition .” You winced at her choice of words, and your wrists pulled instinctively against the leather straps, reminding you subtly of your recent confinements. Your recent stay in the psychiatric hospital was not something you enjoyed thinking about, and you weren’t even sure you trusted Harper’s assessment of your mental illness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that her treatments were less about helping you and more about experimenting on you like some kind of medical dummy.
“I don't need more treatment. I refuse. Let me go, now .” She cast you a sympathetic glance, gently setting her clipboard down on the polished metal counter.
“Apologies, I should have explained properly. This is a part of your discharge plan, you signed the agreement forms upon your exit from the psychiatric unit last month.” The restraints burrowed into your skin as you renewed your struggle with increasing passion. A disappointed shake of Doctor Harper’s head was enough to get your pulse quickening. She picked the clipboard back up, jotting something down with the pen she’d kept pinned in her front pocket.
“I was hoping this wouldn’t be necessary,” She sighed softly, opening a cupboard and retrieving a small vial and a menacing syringe. The small glass bottle of medication gleamed ominously under the harsh medical lighting. “However, complete compliance is necessary for a successful outcome.” Her loafers clicked against the linoleum floor as she approached you, syringe sticking into the vial as she carefully extracted the foreboding mystery liquid. The beeping of the surrounding machinery was deafening, your heart racing so quickly you feared you may need actual medical attention.
“Relax, you won’t feel a thing. In fact, I suspect you’ll feel much better once I administer this.” Fear overtook you, coating every bone in your body. The straps on each joint tore pain through your limbs as you thrashed, pleas pouring from your mouth as the injection drew closer to the IV site.
“P-Please! I can be compliant! I can!” Harper glanced down at you, a faux expression of empathy plastered across her face. The hand resting gently on your shoulder would’ve been a comfort if she wasn’t a demon in a white coat.
“Now, now - this behavior doesn’t seem very compliant, my dear.” Her tone was incredibly patronizing, like she was a veterinarian talking to a dog she was about to put down for biting somebody. As you opened your mouth to renew your begging, you felt a wave of calm wash over you. Eyes darting down to your arm, Harper’s syringe was lodged firmly in your IV, the plunger pushed all the way down. The thrashing you’d found so important moments earlier now felt like a distant memory. An unfamiliar serenity crept through your veins, putting out the fire in your fight.
“Ah, That’s better, isn’t it? You should feel the full effect of the drug within a few minutes.” You tried to respond, but your tongue felt thick and clumsy inside your mouth, your jaw struggling to even open at all. Thoughts sluggish and disjointed, it was a struggle to understand what she was saying. But it didn’t really matter; nothing mattered. As you mindlessly stared up at Harper’s face, you didn’t see her the way you normally would. She looked soft, comforting. Her glasses settled on the end of her nose made her seem strangely inviting. The panic that had gripped you before had faded into nothingness, replaced with an all-consuming sense of peace, but also something else.
Everything was good, everything was as it should be - including the growing heat in every part of you. The quiet droning of pen against paper soothed your senses, but there was a growing urgency in your lower body. Harper continued to write down notes, observing your soft smile and docile lack of movement. She set her clipboard aside and began softly stroking your hair; it felt like the sun beaming on a warm summer’s day. The arousal in your belly heightened with every passing second of her touch, a pleasant ache that begged for more of her. The gentle beeping of the machine, Harper’s soothing fingers in your hair, the building heat in your core - it was all so… nice. Your eyes shut peacefully, enjoying all the sensations around you.
“I’m glad to see you responding so well. This works best for both of us. I’ll be moving onto the next step in your treatment now.” You didn’t mind whatever was next. She could cut off all your toes if she wanted to. The heat in your core pulsed rhythmically, your panties thoroughly soaked underneath your patient gown. It felt like every prayer you’d ever made was being answered as she moved your gown up your thighs, revealing your lower half. Clipboard held firmly in one hand, she stroked her fingers up your drenched center.
“Y-yes… responding very well. I think you’re definitely ready.” Her tone faltered slightly, laced with a definitive lust. Despite the calm, docile feelings overwhelming your brain - the urgency to be touched was growing stronger with every passing second. She jotted down a few more notes before setting her clipboard aside. Both hands trembling, her thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down as far as they could go, considering your restraints. You could vaguely hear her breath hitching as she took a moment to examine you - soft, needy sounds exiting your throat.
She shifted closer, hands ghosting up the tender skin of your thighs. Her fingertips seemed like they were made of satin. Thumb brushing against your clit, your body strained against its restraints. The feeling of slow circles down below was more than incredible; it was the most powerful pleasure you’ve ever felt. A shudder ran down your back and gentle mewls escaped your mouth, sparks exploding behind your vision. The minor stimulation was enough to produce the most intense orgasm you’d experienced in your life. A smile crept over Harper’s face and she withdrew her hand, much to your displeasure. Returning to her notes, she wrote for longer than before - presumably about how well you’re responding to the supposed treatment. Your body ached for more, and you gazed up at her with lidded eyes and a blank expression you tried to will into being seductive.
“Right. You… You’re taking the treatment very well. I presume you’re enjoying yourself, as well.” Her question hung in the air, but it wasn’t truly a question. More of a statement, really. She knew you were enjoying this, the drugs made sure of that much. She cast aside her clipboard once more, returning to your bedside. God, yes, please. Never in a million years did you foresee yourself having this kind of reaction to Harper. But as her hand settled back between your thighs, gently stroking your reactive skin - you could’ve sworn you were fucking in love with her.
Her digits hesitantly sunk into your waiting core, a vibrant array of colors dancing behind your eyes. In the hazy landscape of your mind, every movement inside you felt like fireworks. Fingers curling, your walls clenched her tightly. A soft whimper escaped the doctor’s lips, and she wiped sweat from her brow with her free hand. A triumphant wave of pleasure washed over you in knowing that she was feeling something too. Knowing that you were turning her on, just by lying there near motionless. It made you feel powerful in a completely powerless state.
“Y-Your progress is… is very pleasing.” She explains frankly, her voice quivering. You didn’t care what she had to say; all you cared about was her fingers inside you, every movement shifting the planet on its axis. Sweat pricked at your skin, your back arching once more against the stiff hospital bed, the restraints emitting a pleasant sting that only served to heighten your bliss. Pistoning in and out of you with increasing fervor, her brows knitted in concentration. Every fiber of your being was screaming for more, but all you could do was release a pathetic whimper and weakly lift your hips into her hand. Your skin burned with the need to be consumed by her, to have her touch every inch of your body.
“So responsive,” she whispered, something more to be added to her notes for certain. “You’re doing very well.” The praise sent ripples of desperate aching through you. Every centimeter of exposed skin throbbed with want, a silent plea for her attention. The leather bindings on your joints started to feel like they were mocking you, keeping you from the warm embrace of your newfound lover. Nipples hard like pebbles underneath your gown, you strained weakly once again - the only form of begging your bound body could muster. Harper’s fingers sped up in response, her breath quickening as your whines and moans increased in tempo. The change in pace made you jolt once more, a wave of pure pleasure crashing through the aching heat.
Her fingers continued at that same pace for quite a while, the sensations crashing down on you in continuous waves. Time blended together; you kept glancing on the clock at the wall but found yourself unable to comprehend what you were looking at. The orgasms soon blended together, and your limited capacity made it next to impossible to keep track of. You lost count at 6. At some point, she’d crawled onto the end of the bed, curled in between your legs. It seemed hard to recall when she buried her face in your cunt, or how long she’d been moaning down there - lapping up every ounce of fluid like a hungry animal. Through the haze of pleasure, her voice periodically broke through - her head lifting to whisper praises, you think she may have even called you her favorite patient.
Your consciousness began to fade in and out, the only thing keeping you grounded was the feeling of her tongue swirling around your throbbing slit. It started to fade, and you could faintly feel hands all over you - lifting off your restraints, removing your monitors, replacing your clothing. Allowing the darkness to finally overtake you, a deep sadness in your gut grew at the idea of this experience being over. The feelings dissolved as sleep crept in.
Your eyes fluttered back open, a headache throbbing at the insides of your skull. Eyelids heavy, you swung your legs over the side of your bed - looking around. Ugh, Everything feels like shit. Confusion, thick and disorienting - fogged up the already marshy swamp of your brain. The last thing you remembered was going to sleep last night… So why does your pelvis ache, and why do you feel hungover? Something felt profoundly off , you were certain of that. A growing unease furled in your stomach as you lay back down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You weakly reached over for the bottle of medication on your side table, the antipsychotic with extensive warnings that Harper had prescribed. Must just be a side effect, you excused - washing back the pills with a stale glass of water.