Sweet Doctor

He stretched the first hose out, wrapped it around his fist and squeezed hard. When I first felt Dr. Blumfield wrap the powdered rubber around my wrist, I almost screamed – just like his burning eyes and calm insistence, the restraint made me feel vaguely uncomfortable, but the discomfort actually excited me.

My thoughts turned momentarily to Walter, no doubt sitting in the car outside, listening to his talk radio, and probably checking his watch every thirty seconds. Maybe quietly cursing me under his breath. Maybe not so quietly cursing me.

I didn’t care.

I really didn’t. Of all the things the doctor had done, the face that I could honestly say to myself that Walter was not, at present, controlling my thoughts - that felt best of all.

When I tried to move my hand to scratch my nose, the pinching and tugging on the tiny hairs on my wrist were intense. In fact, the whole experience was intense – by turns terrifying, confusing, and horny as all fuck, my thoughts got a little bit cloud