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acapelladitty · 9 months

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Whole Day Off: The Continuation (Part 10)

Summary: Having agreed to return to the basement, you find that Crane has prepared a wicked medical examination which pushes both your limits and also the delicate line which seperates reward and punishment.

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader (6.7k words)

Full series also available on AO3

Pulling into your preferred parking space outside of the warehouse, your fingers are quick to turn the dial down on the music which is blaring across your ears. The level of noise, delicately chosen to cover the slight rattling of something metallic within the bonnet of the car, wouldn’t be appreciated by anyone in the nearby vicinity but it would hide the worst of it until you could get the bastard booked in with a mechanic.

A simple shift dress covers most of your skin, the opaque, dark material hiding the cute black lace underwear set which lay below. It was a small indulgence, the underwear coming in at a little more expensive than you would typically enjoy but the way the thin fabric hugged and held your skin in all the right places made the price tag that bit easier to swallow.

Instinctively, you reach to the seat on the passenger side to pick up your black bag, its contents crammed full of the various toys and tools which you typically found yourself subject to during a session, but your fingers stuttered in place as you recall that Crane already had the bag, having taken it with him as he left your apartment.

The air is as cold as ever and you grit your teeth against the chill as you walk on steady legs towards the metal door of the warehouse. Slipping within, your feet tread a familiar path to the second doorway which acts as the final barrier between you and common sense. Hesitating at the door, you pause to take a deep breath. Nerves tingle across your frame as your fingers dance along the handle but you steel your spine and continue. Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you descend the stairs as the metal creaks shut behind you.

Your eyes seek him out immediately, his back still turned to you as he finishes writing something on a thin notepad at his workstation. However, his attention is quick to shift as he stands to his full height and turns his face in your direction just as your feet hit the final step of the stairs.

“Hey.” You smile brightly to cover the anxiety which is tugging at your chest.

“Good evening.” There is a hint of unfamiliar giddiness to his deep tone. “I’m,” his pause is tactful and you can see him choose the words carefully, “glad you made it.”

“I did agree to come back and I’m a woman of my word.” Pushing through the hesitation, you slip slightly closer to him. “Besides, you have my bag and how’s a girl supposed to get anything done when all her favourite toys are missing.”

His brow quirks at your brazenness as a smirk settles across his thin lips. His hands delve into the pockets of the off-white lab coat which hangs over his thin frame.

“Bold as brass tonight, witty girl. Very interesting. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

And, just like that, the nerves were back but now they were wrapped in a seedy arousal which dried your mouth out in an instant.

“Follow me.” Crane demands, thin hands wrapping around your elbow to guide you forwards. “I have something to show you.”

Doing as commanded, you follow him around the corner to a familiar area; one which you had previously spent a good amount of time within as you stood with your arms restrained overhead, the rope tying your wrists connecting to a thick hook in the supporting beam above. However, as you approach, a very clear difference quickly makes itself known.

A thick cuboid of wood hangs from the familiar hook in the ceiling and your eyes follow the small length of rope which attaches to the top to see something resembling a pulley system. However, your gaze is quick to snap back to the wood and, more specifically, the four sets of thick padded cuffs which dangle freely from it, each one connected by a thick length of chain which is embedded solidly in the main frame.

If restrained by it, you would be held off the ground and completely at his mercy as both your wrists and ankles would be supporting the rest of your hanging frame. Leaving you unable to do much more than wriggle your head and claw your digits against the padded cuffs.

Crane turns the handle, newly crafted and embedded on the nearby wall, and the restraints slowly lowered a few inches down towards the floor.

“A piece commissioned by a friend.” Crane explains, his piercing gaze following your features like a hawk. “He constructed the main pulley system and established a solid capability to restrain a subject via their wrists or ankles for however long would prove necessary. I, obviously, added in the more personal touches such as the softer cuffs. I’m not foolish enough to believe that you possess the physicality to endure this type of restraint without some creature comforts.”

“A friend made this? Like, this whole thing?” Impressed and a little amused at the thought of him having to explain such a thing to another living soul, you run your fingers along the cuffs.

“I’m sure he naturally believed that its use was intended for more nefarious purposes. No doubt some cruel experimentation and prolonged torture of those who are unfortunate enough to find themselves trapped down here.”

“Is that not what we’re doing?” You ask, unable to help yourself as the cheeky question rolls from your tongue.

“If you would rather,” Crane offered in a dry tone, “I can have the padded cuffs removed and replaced with the steel handcuffs which were attached originally. Fully restrained, I imagine the bleeding and nerve damages will be very impressive by the time I am finished.”

“The padded cuffs are fine.”

Crane simply huffed his acknowledgement as he comes to move behind you, his presence enveloping you like a shadow as you shudder in place.

“Do you agree to it? You suggested a thorough examination, and this seemed like the perfect solution to allow me to accomplish such a feat.”

The echoes of your previous offer, so easily given as he was making your head spin atop your bed, whispered through your mind.

Maybe such a test should be scheduled for my next visit to the basement? I would hate for my wicked doctor to feel that he was neglecting his patient.

“Yeah.” You say, the words breathy as heat pools in your stomach. “I agree.”

“Excellent.” His hands are delicate as they ghost along the fabric of your shift dress and he takes a step away from your back, one hand spinning you in place to face him fully. “Now, strip.”

Flushing at the command, your hands scrunch up the hem of your dress as you pull it overhead in one swift movement. Already you can feel the growing arousal within your groin, excitement and mild anxiety battling it out to control your racing heartbeat.

A short noise of appreciation from Crane as he observes your underwear set, the black lace panties so thin that they hid nothing while the bra made a fantastic time of pushing your tits together in a very inviting manner.

“I like this.” Crane mutters, his thumb reaching out to brush down the thin strap on your right shoulder. “I thought the red was impressive but this-” He pauses, allowing the comment to fizzle out before running a hand through his russet hair and fixing his glasses.

“Regardless, before our examination begins, I have a simple task for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to take my belt off and hand it to me.” He explains with a hardened expression, the words brokering no argument. “I warned you before that the Scarecrow does not take kindly to being neglected and that I would warm that lovely skin for it. So, before we start you will take my belt and hand it me, knowing what I’ll be using it for.”

Dropping gently to your knees for a little bit of added drama, your mouth is wickedly dry at the surprisingly erotic act. It felt submissive in a different way, making you an active and willing party in your own ruin as your trembling fingers deftly unlatch his belt. You are in the perfect position to see the straining bulge of his groin, his cock already visibly hard and pressing against his dark slacks, as you slip his belt free of the loops.

Standing once again, you hand him the faux-leather belt with a shuddering breath, your face blushing as you take in the deep arousal which reflects in his expression.

“Good girl.” Is all he says and his wire-framed glasses glint as he tilts his head to observe you further. “Now ready yourself to be locked in.”

You shuffle forward to stand beside the hanging restraints, quickly raising your hands up to allow him to slip the thick cuffs around your wrist. They’re tight but comfortable, the thick band wrapping around and swallowing the first few inches of your wrist. Your heart beating harshly, you take a steadying breath as you allow him to grip your left ankle.

“Raise it. High as you can.”

And you do, even as the position leaves you balancing on one unsteady foot.

“I’m going to raise the restraints, be prepared.” He warns and his thin fingers wrap around the short handle on the nearby wall as he cranks it slowly.

It’s an odd sensation as your hands and foot are raised higher and higher until you are no longer able to support your weight. You gasp as you are lifted from the ground, hands and foot held high as your body hangs freely, dangling above the floor as he quickly secures your other foot in its waiting restraint.

Now weightless, the feeling is so strange that an absurd bubble of laughter rises in your chest. You hang in a messy ‘v’ shape with your lower spine and ass being the closest point to the floor; your legs and arms spread as your head hangs freely, gravity forcing it tight against the back of your neck as Crane continues to raise the restraints until your hanging body is roughly on line with his hips.

“Excellent.” Crane begins, his voice deliciously tinted with the arousal that he wasn’t bothering to hide. “It has been too long since you underwent a thorough medical examination, and I will be correcting that oversight today. Every inch of you will be subject to some form of testing as I cannot allow such a wanton little mouse to continue our games without a clean bill of health.”

“I wasn’t aware that you offered gynaecological services, Doctor Crane.” You say, finding the urge to comment difficult to resist.

“Ah, yes. That mouth.” Crane growls, slipping around your body to wrap a thin hand around your jaw. His grip is firm, threatening, and it causes your breath to hitch as he pulls a thin object free from the depths of his lab coat. “Let’s deal with that before we continue.”

Presenting the object before your eyes, you don’t recognise it immediately, but its intent becomes very clear as he swipes his scarred thumb along your lower lip.

“Open.”

You follow his demand, allowing him to slip the metal gag between your lips as it instantly springs open to force your jaw to widen as far as it would reasonably allow without tearing the skin. It’s uncomfortable and cold against the warmth of your mouth and holds a metallic taste which makes your nose scrunch; the edges of it pressing harshly against the corners of your mouth as it exposes your mouth and tongue freely to his heated gaze as he locks the dental gag into place.

“This will prevent you from both biting and also holding back those delightful little noises that I enjoy.” He pauses. “Plus, the added benefits which will become clear when we begin oral testing.”

There it was and a soft little mewl is the first noise to break free of your spread lips as your tongue traces along the edges of the gag, mapping them out in such a way that you can feel his gaze following your exploration with keen interest.

“Your examination begins now.”

His hands move to your own first, clasping over your fingers as he tugs as the restraints which hold you in place to test their strength. Satisfied, he does the same with your ankles and his fingers brushing the soles of your feet spark a panicked giggle which causes him to arch a brow before moving on.

As always, his attentions quickly divert to your chest. Your tits remain hugged within the lace bra which you had so carefully chosen and his hands are like claws as they immediately begin to grope at the material, sending a delightful discomfort rocking through your chest as he does so.

“There are several types of stimuli I considered for these,” Crane mutters, “but I believe that some kind of punishment is due and so-”

His fingers dip within his pockets once more as he pulls free the familiar clover clamps and the thin metal chain which connects them.

A mild dread poisons your thoughts at the appearance of those particular clamps, muscle memory making you wince in anticipation.

His fingers are deft as they pull your tits free of the bra, allowing the material to sit below the breasts as his thumb and forefinger pluck at your right nipple. Once satisfied with the peak of the nub, he snaps the clamp over it in such a way that you cannot hold back a short cry as a bolt of pain radiates from the harsh clamp.

Without giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the feat with your left nipple and another shrill squeak of discomfort greets the accompanying pain. It’s a familiar ache, the wicked squeeze causing a fresh flood of arousal to brush against the thin lace panties which felt wet against your cunt as you clench around nothing.

His pinkie curls around the short chain which connects the clamps and gives it an experimental tug, forcing the clamps to squeeze even tighter for a moment, and your body curves in place; chest following the chain to alleviate the pain as your wrists pull against the restraints to raise you an inch higher for a moment. After a moment, he takes pity and frees the chain from his finger and your body falls slack to dangle like a piece of meat once more.

The examination continues and a solid flush of colour overtakes your frame as he methodically moves around your prone frame; pinching and stroking whatever bits of skin that took his fancy while his palms ghosted over the ultra-sensitive skin of your inner thighs and neck. He’s cruel with it, deliberately avoiding your soaked cunt and abused nipples as he instead teases the areas which he knows will only serve to stoke the fire within you while providing no relief.

Eventually, he seems content with his examination, and he moves to stand behind you, your head tilting even further back as you stare up at him with glassy eyes.

“I think it’s time I took advantage of that beautiful gag.” He mused, his hands curling around your head to hold you in place as he explains his intent. “Besides, a thorough test of that marvellous throat might remind you of what I expect from my witty girl.”

He releases your head as you shudder, swallowing down the sudden flood of saliva which accumulates in your stretched mouth.

You hear his zip and his hands return to your head, tilting your face roughly to the side as he presents his cock before you. Held in place and mouth unable to do anything but accept him, he pushes his cock within your mouth, holding himself there with great patience as he allows you to make the next move.

Without too much thought, you wrap your tongue around the head of his cock as the familiar taste of him floods your mouth. He’s already leaking pre-cum and you swallow down the salty taste as readily as you do your own saliva. The dental gag prevents you from wrapping your lips around him but you know that’s not what he’s looking for and so you try to regulate your breathing, knowing that he’s soon going to be buried deep within your throat.

As if he could sense your thoughts, his cock slides deeper and he gives a few shallow thrusts to build up pace before he jerks himself forward in a sudden movement, forcing his cock past your fluttering tongue and down the sensitive juncture of your throat.

Panic sets in in an instant as your fingers scramble against the restraints and you struggle to relax your breathing. Through the roar of blood in your ears, you can hear the satisfied grunt which escapes him at how tight and warm your throat must be and a sick sense of pride cuts through the anxiety which makes your eyes water with every passing moment.

His hips jerk in a steady rhythm, every thrust forcing his cock down your unprotected throat before pulling free enough to allow sharp, panicked breaths before delving in once more. It’s uncomfortable and you fight the urge to retch, your throat instead constricting around him in what you can imagine is a lovely tightness.

Before too long, his cock swells within your mouth and his fingers curl painfully against your scalp as he pulls your face flush against his groin, his pubic hair pressed roughly against your nose as he grunts out his pleasure. He comes, his cock twitching and convulsing as he releases deep within your throat while you thrash against your restraints; teeth painfully held in place by the dental gag as he rides out his orgasm before pulling away in one fluid movement.

Coughing and spluttering as a wayward tear breaks free of your left eye and tracks down your reddened cheek, the ache in your chest seems more pronounced due to your squirming and you blink away the remaining tears to fix him with your bleary gaze.

His glasses are slightly crooked and the flush which sits high on his cheeks speaks of the lovely affect your forced oral has had. At his groin, his saliva-slicked cock remains half-hard and he tucks it away with a clinical hand before returning his attention back to your suffering frame.

Dipping his head low, he captures your mouth in his own. It’s not a kiss, your fully restrained mouth making such a thing impossible, but his tongue trails across your gagged lips before delving within your mouth to taste both you and himself as a low hum vibrates past his mouth.

“You suffer so beautifully, witty girl. It makes it hard for me to be reasonable when you hang there with such vulnerability.”

Unable to answer that, a low keen of desire rips free of your mouth as his hand presses roughly against your panties, grinding the lace fabric into your cunt.

“Shall we move on?” He asks, seeking no answer.

Seemingly from nowhere, a small pair of silver scissors appears within his hands as you pull your head up to stare between your spread legs. He is quick and efficient in the way that he cuts your panties free of your ass – the cool metal of the scissors making your shiver as they roll up your outer thigh to snip away at the straps there.

You whimper as the fabric is pulled away, exposing your obvious arousal to his piercing gaze. Your body still on par with his groin, he lowers his hand to stroke one finger experimentally along your aching slit. After such neglect, the feeling is electric, and you clench around nothing as his finger comes away glistening with your juices.

“Even suspended in the air, the safety of solid ground ripped away to leave you victim to the whims of a madman, you are still as wet as a whore. Arousal and fear,” he quotes the familiar words, “you wear them both like old friends, the line between them indistinguishable.”

“Are you frightened of me, witty girl?”

You nod quickly, the truth of the nod fleeting as you would agree to anything just to have him return his finger to your aching sex.

“Liar. You are not nearly as afraid as you should be. I wonder what it would take to have that fear fully enter your eyes again, to flood your features as it does all my other little experiments.”

His toxin never too far from your thoughts, a genuine anxiety settles in your chest as you recall the effects that even the reduced dose wreaked on your body. How awful a full dose would be, particularly if administer while you were hung helplessly like this.

A shudder rolls through your spine as his fingers traces the outline of your ass, teasing the hole there as his other hand maintains a death grip of your thigh.

“Perhaps we will make that the focus of our next meeting. Besides, the Scarecrow has plans to use every inch of you, witty girl. We’ll start training this,” his thumb brushes across your asshole firmly, “soon enough and then we’ll see how anxious you can be with the correct motivations.”

The noise which escapes your throat is somewhere between surprise and agreement, the idea making you feel filthy in the most delicious way. It would be something new and the thought of the many ways he could utilise anal in your games is thrilling. A fantasy rises in your thoughts; your ass filled by him as his wicked fingers curl within your cunt, stroking those areas which drive you wild as he fills you from behind.

Shaking away the thought, you focus on his current ministrations as he prepares something unseen, his back tactfully turned to prevent you from seeing what is held within his hands. Whatever it is disappears into his pocket as he turns to face you once more before dropping to one knee.

A wretched noise screams free of your throat as his tongue stripes a cruel line across your throbbing cunt, flicking across your neglected clit to send a lance of pained arousal across your groin. His enthusiasm is terrible in its immediacy, his lips and tongue flooding you with sensation as he delves into your cunt with even more determination than when he had you splayed out on your apartment couch.

Your orgasm builds quickly, the ache of your abused nipples as they jostled around only adding to the pleasure of your cunt as he rolls his tongue around your clit, providing just enough sensation to have your breath coming in sharp pants as your toes curl against thin air.

However, just as quickly as it started, he finished; pulling away as your body chased him without thought, the restraints only allowing a few inches of movement. His hand falls into his other lab coat pocket to pull free his next toy.

From this position, you can barely make it out, but it almost looks like a thick plastic syringe with the tip neatly removed, leaving only the barrel.

His eyes flash from behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he brings the object closer to the dim light.

“A suction pump. Designed to isolate an area of skin and create a vacuum. Can be used for insect bites to extract toxins, but it has many other uses. Such as-”

Your tongue presses against the roof of your mouth as his fingers return to your cunt. However, their intent is decidedly more clinical as they spread your lips wide to allow him to find the target for his latest toy. A sharp gasp forces your chest to inhale deeply as you feel the smooth edges of the tube coat themselves in your arousal before trailing up to lock around the circumference of your clit.

An explosion of sensation rockets through your straining frame as he pulls the syringe tight, capturing your clit and pumping it roughly within the barrel. The intensity of the sudden pull, every nerve in your clit straining against the forced inflation, catches your breath in your throat and you splutter and whine through the feeling – pleasure and discomfort rolled into one as you jerk your hips against nothing.

The pain in your nipples forgotten, every slight movement within your body causes fresh waves of pained ecstasy to shudder through you. Your mouth fights against the dental gag as you gasp and whimper, unsure if you want him to remove the pump or pull it even tighter.

“You took that very well.” Crane praises, ignoring the obvious distress as his thumb casually wipes away a fat tear that you were unaware was rolling past your cheek. “I will let you decide if you consider it a punishment or a reward. Regardless, there is still another punishment to attend to.”

He disappears from sight, moving quickly past your head as he dips to the floor to retrieve something before standing upright once more.

Within his hands, lies the belt. The one you had so willingly handed him earlier as your game began.

“Seven days.” He muses, wrapping the buckle of the belt within his fist to prevent the metal from damaging your skin. “Your neglect of the Scarecrow lasted a whole seven days, little mouse.” Tutting with mock disapproval, he circles you like a hawk, clearly enjoying the fresh anxiety which has entered your features. “I think that warrants seven stripes of that beautiful skin. Do you agree?”

“Yes.” You try to answer, the word coming out slurred and messy due to the gag.

“Excellent. As always, you are responsible for counting along and if you lose count then we return to zero.”

A wash of euphoria skates across your skin, anticipating the pain of the belt even as your tits ache and your clit throbs in its isolation, and you loosen your frame as you await the first blow.

CRACK.

A howl snaps free of your throat as the belt wraps around your exposed ass, catching both cheeks as heat blossoms from the spot in an instant. The pain is sharp, different to the rest of the torments that afflict your body and your spine curves in place to avoid the next hit.

“One.” You cry out.

CRACK.

“Two!” It’s a pathetic yowl as his second hit connects across the exact same skin as the first- causing the heated skin there to explode into an inferno of discomfort while fresh tears spring into your eyes.

CRACK.

“Three.”

Pulling your head up for a moment, you catch his eye and the sadistic delight which reflects in his expression frightens you as much as it makes your cunt clench and drip with undeniable arousal.

CRACK. CRACK.

Blows four and five come in quick session across your spread inner thighs and you squeal out their numbers as these new areas burst to pained life. The skin there had remained mostly untouched until now and the sudden assault catches you off-guard while your ankles pull hard against their tight restraints.

CRACK.

An open scream followed by a sob drags free of your stretched lips as his fifth belt catches you across the tits, sparking white-hot pinpoints of pain where the leather catches your clamped nipples.

“Six.” You continued to sob, the pain slowly overtaking the rolling pleasures which had been making it bearable. “T-that’s six.”

“Well done. Despite your fear of the belt you’ve managed to keep up.” Crane growls. “And for our final strike.”

His fingers trailing down your slit for a moment before ripping the pump free of your clit in one rough movement. In an instant, your breath is stolen from you as the pain of your sensitive clit is immediately overshadowed by his final swing, which stripes along your cunt. Stars explode behind your clenched eyes as the pain flashes so intensely that you choke, the scream caught within your chest making you dry-heave instead as his hand ghosts along your wet cunt.

“Seven.” The number comes out with a pathetic squeak as you hear his belt fall to the floor once more.

His palm is cool against your heated flesh, but you sob in place as the calloused skin grazes your plump clit, sending an unbearable flash of sensation across your groin.

Lightheaded as your head hangs limply, the tightness of your bruised throat mixed with the gag makes breathing feel tricky and your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to gain some composure. Pain, tinged with that same euphoria from earlier, dances along your skin to alleviate the worst of your aches as you hang there. You briefly consider telling him to stop, of using that one guarantee that he promised, but something holds you back.

You flinch in place as his hands come to rest on your scalp, the surprise of his touch pulling you from your thoughts and a mild relief sweeps through your chest as you realise that he is removing the dental gag. As the metal pulls free of your mouth, you test your aching jaw, the muscles there feeling strained and uncomfortable while you wetten your dry lips with your tongue.

Still hanging loosely, you issue another low scream as he unlatches the clover clamps from your abused nipples and the blood returns to them like a strike of lightning. It’s a horrible pain, enough to overshadow the other aches for a moment, as Crane sadistically assists the process by rolling the nubs between his fingers and thumbs.

“Our examination is almost complete, little mouse.” Crane announces, his tone oddly breathless as he slips to stand between your hanging legs and his fingers fiddle with his zip once more. “Just one final test and then we’ll see if you have earned a reprieve.”

His hands comes to wrap around your hips, the thin digits digging into the skin there roughly. You offer a broken moan as you feel the head of his cock bump messily against your slickened hole and you spread your knees as wide as possible to invite him in further. He pushes in harshly, not allowing a single moment of respite as his left hand leaves your hips and instead moves to brush against your clit as he sinks himself fully, claiming his long-awaited prize.

So over-stimulated and close to your limits, his cock burying itself deep within you, hard enough to brush uncomfortably off your cervix, is enough to push you over the edge and you come almost instantly.

His thumb pressing against your pumped clit adds an unbearable pleasure to your release as you squeeze around him so tightly that you hear him grunt with the pressure.

Your entire body tenses as the waves of pleasure crash through you, bolstered by the pains across your abused flesh, and your moans are pathetic in their earnestness as ecstasy drives you to utter madness.

It’s overwhelming in its intensity, your mind immediately floating off into pure sensation as your lips move of their own accord to garble out a mixture of pleas and groans.

Crane, uncaring of your torments, does not let up on his brutal assault on your over-stimulated cunt and his utter disregard only causes your orgasm to prolong itself- every fresh thrust and rough rub of your inflamed skin making you mewl and pull him deeper as you clench around him desperately.

Lost in the sensations, you barely feel it when he comes; his release shockingly warm as it coats your walls, dripping free as he rides his orgasm out before pulling away. Through watery eyes, you watch him as he casually wipes off his cock with a handkerchief before tucking himself away once more. A few strands of his russet hair have fallen across his forehead, plastered to the skin by sweat, as a satisfied slackness courts his features.

You jolt in place as that same handkerchief wipes along your electrified cunt, cleaning up the mess from your combined release as you whimper and attempt to pull away from the fabric; the cotton feeling as terrible as sandpaper against your sensitive skin.

“Well done, witty girl.” Crane praises once more, his words as clinical as ever yet slightly slurred by his sated arousal. “You performed admirably, and I don’t think any of the recent trouble has impacted your ability to impress.”

His hand wraps around your feet, fingers making short work of the restraints there as he pins your right foot beneath his underarm until he has securely released the other. Both feet now freed, he lowers them slowly to the ground to allow you to gain a solid footing.

Standing on very shaky legs, you allow him to repeat the feet with your wrists – releasing them from the thick cuffs as his thumbs rub almost absent-mindedly at the reddened skin there.

Now fully righted, a wicked wave of nausea sweeps across your frame, and you slowly drop yourself to the floor, laying on your back to allow the linoleum to cool your skin and give you something to focus on as you fight the urge to vomit. Your chest throbs and your cunt aches with every slight jostle, the flooring providing a wonderful coolness against the heat of your belted skin.

Vision swimming, a dark shape above you alerts you to Crane’s position as he stands over you. Something like a sigh escapes his shape and you flinch as thin hands dip to wrap around your shoulders and the backs of your knees. With a solid grunt, he picks you up from the floor and you are immediately reminded that he is much stronger that his wiry frame would suggest as he pulls you flush to his chest as he carries you back to the main area of the basement and towards the familiar couch which typically housed your frame.

Wracked by a full-bodied shiver as you relax into the couch, your trembling fingers pull the thin fabric of your bra up once again, wincing as the lace traces over your reddened nipples. The worst of the nausea seems to have passed but previous experiences tells you that you’re still not in any fit state to be walking around and so you pull your legs onto the couch and lean heavily on the arm.

Having lost track of him after he deposited you, the reappearance of Crane as he thrusts a chilled bottle of water under your chin startles you for a moment but you take the water gratefully. Your fingers struggle with the cap for a few seconds before his thin digits take control, opening the bottle and pressing it towards your mouth to allow you a few deep sips.

Satisfied with your intake, he drops to the couch by your side and his hands pick up your feet enough to allow him to adjust them over his lap due to the lack of available space.

“Did you find your examination thorough enough?” Crane asks, his voice suspiciously disinterested as his gaze trails across your striped thighs.

“It was a lot.” You sigh. “My body is aching enough now that I know I’ll be in some state tomorrow. I liked the new restraints though; they make it easy to agree to whatever you want since I’m trapped mid-air.” A slight hint of teasing peeks through the tiredness in your tone and you can feel the amusement roll off him despite his expression remaining stoic.

“You are as responsive as ever. The fear of being fully restrained and vulnerable appears to heighten your sensations in a way that the gurney does not.” His fingers trail along your leg, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “I am pleased that you offered to return here, with me. I doubt I would have been so kind if the tables were turned.”

“You don’t strike me as the vengeful type, Doctor Crane.”

That gets a genuine laugh from him, the sound little more than a low rumble from his lips but its honest and it alights a satisfaction within you that you were able to get that from him.”

“You could afford to be more vengeful, witty girl. I suspect one day you will come to some brilliant moment of clarity and attempt to cave my skull in for my various crimes against your lovely skin. I also have no doubts that you could murder Roman Sionis in his sleep if you were provided the appropriate means.”

You wince at the mention of that bastard and the flinch does not go unnoticed as a slight furrow appears in Crane’s brow.

“I enjoyed your apartment.” He diverts the conversation smoothly, his hands pulling at your shoulders to guide you into adjusting your body the opposite way. A task which you follow, true surprise clutching at your thoughts as he encourages you to lay your head down on his lap. “If my offer of dinner were still to be taken up, then I don’t see why it wouldn’t suffice for a more relaxed atmosphere.”

You find yourself willing to ignore the fact that his offer of dinner had somehow bastardised itself into a self-invite for you to prepare something for him as his knees adjust to make a more comfortable pillow for your head as you gaze up at his still frame.

His expression refuses to change, stoic features only slightly softened by his obvious fatigue after your little session, and his gaze is as piercing as ever as it flits across your features, taking in your own exhausted state.

“Sleep, dear one.” Crane encourages, tilting your head away from his to face the expanse of the basement. “You’re clearly exhausted and will be unable to function without some rest.”

Unable to refute the fact, your eyes drift shut as something delightfully warm touches at your senses and it’s not until sleep quickly comes to claim you that you realise what it is.

Dear one.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Her breathing steady as he watches the rise and fall of her abused chest, Crane knew that his witty girl was asleep. She looked peaceful like this, a fact which inspired as much disappointment as it did amusement. Her features were so expressive, wearing arousal, fear, rage, and delight with such ease that he needed no prowess to detect her true feelings and it amused him no end.

He had called her ‘dear one’ and its use was not accidental. She had demonstrated a bravery, arguably a foolishness, by agreeing to continue their little arrangement and he felt that bravery deserved a reward. A recognition of something that perhaps he himself was not willing to face.

Brushing the hair which had fallen across her forehead away, he tucked it behind her ear in a surprisingly tender move. Something about her, the way she lay nakedly splayed across his lap, fully asleep and vulnerable to his presence sparked a terrible sensation in his chest; something that lived in the delicate space between protection and cruelty.

She trusted him, regardless of everything, and he could use that trust to do what he wished. To lull her into a false security which would be stripped away in an instant as those lovely features twisted in true rage before dissolving into fear as she realised the true monster which lurked within.

And yet, his hand stayed.

The appeal of such a betrayal was fleeting in its temptations as it would only provide one session of delights and he doubted that the discomfort which plagued him over his previous perceived betrayal would forgive him so easily.

Yes.

His little mouse inspired a terrible thing within him.

She regularly courted the temptation of a monster, one more than ready to tear apart the delicate prey between its teeth. However, her fire saved her. That fire which amused him so much and singed away those darker temptations as they would require him to snuff it out completely, something which he found himself loathe to do.

Dropping his hand gently to her chest, he spread his palm over the area which covered her heart and waited for the steady rhythm to thump its beat against his skin. He would not sleep, not like this, but he allowed the soft thrum of her heartbeat to lull him into something approaching peace, if only for the moment.

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