Work Text:
What was it that sealed your fate? The fact that you treated people without bias and tried to understand others? That the doctor had intrigued you with his misplaced optimism and scarily eager smiles?
Maybe you were doomed from the start.
Medic was unique in many ways, one being that he loved to see his patients carry themselves into his office, injured and weak. Where most any doctor would advise caution so that they didn’t have to stitch you up again, Medic hoped you would return into his capable arms soon, even more torn up than before.
He liked seeing you, you were clever and curious to him, friendly and not afraid to talk to him, ask about his procedures where most just wanted to get healed and leave as quickly as possible. Any excuse to meet you would do, to the point where he considered toying with your body himself to have you return with more complaints soon. But he restrained himself, for now.
A hunch told him something was off about you. It was subtle, but you were so gullible. So willing to do as you were told. One day, he thought, if humans were to be bred into domestication, it should be your genes that would be carried on. This thought process led him down an interesting path of considering what type of pet you would make…
Self-restraint was not enough soon. It was easy to learn your schedule, your address, when you went to bed and when you happened to leave your windows open. It was euphoric to see how your chest gently heaved, how at peace you looked when your eyes were closed. God, how he wanted to violate your innocent frame.
With how busy and exhausted he had been, it was difficult for him to even find time and place for arousal anymore, but when he happened to catch you in a moment of weakness from afar, lurking just outside your window and seeing your pretty shape desperately fucking yourself, he grew so hard it hurt. Despite the risks of being caught, your soft whimpers just forced him over the edge until he was pumping himself to the thought of you in ecstasy.
You would be his.
It was so easy for him. Medic bargained and lied, he hurt and he killed, he manipulated with ease and when he injected you with anesthetics, his heart was almost calm because he knew you would soon be his forever.
There was an endless flow of questions when you awoke, why was he doing this, where were you, who was he really? He hushed you, but your sobs could not be silenced. At first his touch was repulsive, enough to make you flinch away, the rooms you were in constraining and sickening. You were often too scared and not angry enough to insult him, but your disgusted stares were enough to displease him.
So he began trying to break you. Keeping you tied up, in a small cage fit for an animal, hanging you up in his work room with each limb spread when you tried to escape. The first time he cut you and choked you to the brink of death and beat you and whipped you, you thought you were sure to die soon. He was cold and cruel in these episodes, no humanity left within him as the assault of pain continued.
When he was done and panted while you almost passed out, he was calmer and a wave of relief washed over you for the first time as that foreign sensation reversed time on your wounds. You thought you must be hallucinating, not knowing the Medigun would be your curse, not a blessing.
He loved testing your limits, there was not a shred of empathy in his eyes when he pushed knives far into your flesh while closely observing your tortured expression. When he impaled you completely and watched the life drain from your eyes only to save you at the last moment. Making you watch as he desecrated your body and prodded at your organs with his dirty hands, often licking your fresh wounds and savoring the streams of blood.
Even just wrapping his hands around your neck and squeezing, watching your eyes beg for oxygen. Mmh. He loved it.
During your torture, he tried to keep you sane with his consolations, comforted you and praised you saying how beautiful you were. It was only when he was truly seething that he went silent.
His sadism had no limits, it seemed like it recharged overnight, like he simply had to get it out and repeat your personal hell each day.
You even came to like his fists, for they hurt less than his other tools. When he hit you, you were glad he did not saw you into pieces or fuck your decapitated head. There was no limit to his imagination, so there was no limit to his horrors.
If you could have killed yourself, you would have done it in a heartbeat, but Medic’s watchful eyes prevented such negligence.
“You look so good like this..” He sometimes said when the view of your beaten, abused form kneeling beneath him sent blood rushing through his core.
You became so ungodly broken. Shattered into unrecognizable pieces, losing much of what you had once considered to be yourself. You feared his tools more than anything, feared the ungodly punishment he could bring upon you. He was given the power of gods, the authority to enact endless pain. Usually, you would have thought there was an end to how much suffering one can feel, that there is a threshold where one goes numb and dies as their bodies fail to keep up. With his technology, with his ever-constant resurrection and healing, you feared so much that it would never end.
Time seemed unreal. It was one day that you had an epiphany that should have been obvious; you thought to yourself, he is human, or at least he wears the skin of one. His hair was adorned by grey strands that suited him well and when he hovered inches away from you to observe you closely, you could also make out little wrinkles decorating his skin, an indicator that he, too, aged. Do you realize what this meant? It meant that there must be a day when his cruel limbs hang weak and he collapses into death, that your torture was not infinite. In your turmoil, such an obvious truth had brought you to desperate tears of joy. It would end.
Over time, you noticed that he was kinder when you appealed to him and appreciated his touch, you grew too scared to defy him, and you were driven mad by the solemn iron bars of your cage to the point where you were relieved to see him and receive just a bit of warmth from him, starved of touch and affection as you were.
You did not speak much, but when spoken to, you addressed him like he asked to be addressed, calling him ‘Master’. His voice and the sound of his footsteps were to you like the smell of meat to a salivating dog, and your pupils widened when he stepped close to your enclosure and reached out to gently caress your head.
Eventually, you made requests when you could not take it any longer, mumbling in meek, shameful tones if he could please hold you, say kind things to you, spend time with you. And despite the clear differences in power, in a way, he could not resist you.
“Do you love me?” He asked with a tone stern enough to send panic coursing through you. This was an important question to him, this was the tone he used when he became violent.
“Y-Yes. I love you. I love you more than anything, master, I love you.” Your begging words pooled out in a fearful frenzy as you tried coating your confession in a layer of sweet adoration to convince him; To make him enamored with you once again so that he wouldn’t hurt you.
“Will you prove it, Täubchen?” (A cute form of dove, basically ‘little dove’)
You did not want to ask, but it was inevitable. “How can I?”
“Kiss me, Süße (sweetie), properly.” He commanded.
The illusion of control was uncomfortable and foreign to you after all this time. Usually he took your lips as he pleased, often hungrily, and now he merely closed his eyes and sat still, leaving you in disrepair.
It hurt in a unique way. Like this act would somehow prove that you did not deserve to be freed from his grasp, because you played along with his games. You had no other choice, surely?
You took a deep breath and held his cheek with shaky hands, the tingly texture of his stubble pressing against your palm. Without his guidance you were lost, but exhaled against his skin and gently pressed your lips to his regardless. You were much too gentle with him, kinder than he had ever been with you, even when the kiss deepened and you sunk onto his lap. Something about his sweet taste comforted you.
“Well done.” He whispered smugly once you had separated to gasp for air.
So smug.
Eventually he had to make the choice between having you be filthy, taking the risk of letting you shower by yourself, or cleaning you himself. Medic, of course, chose the latter.
He escorted you to the bathroom, undoing your restraints and locking the door before he told you to “Take off your clothes.”
He had admired your body many times before, but it still made you uncomfortable to have his eyes lust over you so disgustingly.
But you were hesitant, so he just decided to do it himself, though you offered no resistance. You had no energy left.
The sight of you spawned a smug smirk on his face, though you tried to ignore it and shield your skin from his prying eyes as much as possible. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms speckled with dark hair, and gestured for you to get in as he held open the door to the shower.
You obliged, standing in the glass enclosure as he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, testing it with his hands until it had warmed up.
Warm water splashed onto you as he held the shower head towards you and gave a little nod, raising his brows to ask if this was fine. You nodded back.
He soaked you from top to bottom until your hair was drenched, then grabbed a bottle of shampoo and spread the liquid equally in his hands, rubbing until it was foamy. You turned around to let him massage your scalp, making sure to brush through each bit of your hair with his fingers. Hm. His hands felt nice. You closed your eyes, enjoying the fresh water, the sound of water drops hitting the floor..
The massaging stopped, and you opened your eyes, seeing him look back at you with a smile. He had ‘caught’ you enjoying his touch, and it upset you.
You thought he would use this as an excuse to molest you further, maybe even take you right here, but instead, he remained silent, scarily focused on cleaning you thoroughly as if he actually cared for you. This, too, upset you, this act that was no act at all. His gentle kindness that he paired with his unusual cruelty.
He conditioned your hair, washed your body, even massaged your back for the sake of it and fuck, he wasn’t bad at it. Was this his attempt at training you using what he once called Zuckerbrot und Peitsche? (Literally: sugar bread and whip, meaning alternating between reward and punishment to train something)
He directed water between your legs, but did no more, no washing or prodding. When you looked at him, he said, perhaps feeling a need to explain himself, “The pH-level is quite sensitive, and it’s a self-regulating organ after all.” You knew, of course, but were glad he didn’t abuse you further today.
You turned around when he had finished, your wet hair splashing water.
“Ah, you’ve gotten me wet.” He groaned in annoyance, instinctively making your blood run cold for a moment, fearing one wrong step might provoke him.
He looked up to you from his clothes and observed your fearful expression, then only chuckled, relief washing over you. Maybe he was in a more lighthearted mood today.
He even dried you off, and bought you nice dresses sometimes, ones that suited a doll more than a human. You didn’t understand any of it, but when he stood in front of you and dried your hair, then paused and looked into your eyes with such calm adoration, you almost felt sick to your stomach because of how nice it felt. Guilt would not let you have a moment of peace.
‘Living with him’, you learned lots about the sadist. He was a good cook, surprisingly enough. He rarely starved you, since if he wished to see you hurt, there were much quicker and better ways of achieving such sights. Sometimes, though, he loved having your hungry figure beg him for food, licking off sweets from his fingers and letting him feed you because you couldn’t take the hunger anymore. He loved seeing you so desperate.
At first, he considered feeding you little protein, but you never got much exercise in your constraints and weren"t the strongest to begin with, so he was confident he could win any struggle against you.
It was intimidating in its own right, that he just seemed like a Jack of All Trades, a doctor who wasn"t really bad at anything. Yes, he had lost his medical license, but not due to incompetence, no, it was ruthlessness. Your struggle against him seemed to end before it even began. There was no way you could win.
When he grew bored, he decided to tell you that you could cook with all the ingredients he had home, that you could call him if you needed help or had finished. You were baffled, at first, and not even a great cook. Was this a test or something? There were many ingredients stocked up in the pantries and fridge, but after a while of being controlled completely, it felt weird to even have the freedom to make your own meals.
With what he had at home, you decided to make lasagna since he had the right dishes for it, and for the hour it took you to cook, he really did not intrude, working away at some project of his own.
Why did you hope it was good? It didn’t matter. You should be hoping for your captor to choke and die. But for whatever reason a slight fuzz of anxiety remained when you took your work out of the oven.
He dug into the meal with his fork when it was ready, holding it out for you to try. Wouldn’t want to be poisoned, after all, if you had somehow managed to sneak some poison out from his workspace.
But no, there was no poison, so you let him feed you, then watched for his reaction. He seemed pleased, maybe not just at the quality of the food, but the fact that you hadn’t even tried to assassinate him.
When his sadism came to play, even the devil cringed. You had begged to God during your first weeks of torture, but had soon concluded that either there was none, or only a negligent creature that cared not for your endless pain.
Once again, his scalpel slid through you like butter. You wondered if he sometimes practiced anything medicinal or if this was purely for his enjoyment.
He pushed down on your fresh wound, causing more blood to trickle down your arm. Only when two of his digits were completely soaked in your crimson did he pull away, adjusting his glasses as he inspected the mess closely before bringing it to his lips. His gaze melted into a subtle softness as he inserted the bloodstained fingers into his mouth, like he had just tried a sweet dessert. He stared directly at you— into you, it felt— as he licked around his fingers.
“Open your mouth.” He commanded with a small nod as he leaned towards you once he was done tasting you. You reluctantly parted your lips, watching as his saliva-coated fingers entered your mouth. They were long and warm inside of you, tasting of a vaguely familiar cruelty. Slowly, they traced along your walls, felt the texture of your teeth, pressed gently against your tongue and delved in deeper though he was still far from fully inside of you. You looked into his eyes as he played with you like this and were met by an intimidating intensity in his gaze; To him, only you existed in this moment, and his sickly grin told you he was at peace.
You gagged suddenly as he pushed deeper without warning, pulling back and choking for fresh air. He stood up from his squatting position before you and licked his wet fingers once more, sampling your combined tastes.
He paused momentarily, then wiped his hands with a handkerchief. “Delicious.”
Terrifying.
You were his stress relief one way or another, but on more fortunate days, he liked to simply look at you, feel you and enjoy your presence like a more normal lover might. He sighed at his paperwork and swiveled around to look at you, not hiding it when he checked your soft body out from top to bottom.
He gave his thighs two pats and waited. You weren’t sure if he really did want you to come over and scared of angering him, but slowly wobbled over to his seat eventually. When you stood next to him waiting, peering at him with worried eyes, he set his hands down on your hips and pulled you onto his lap gently.
This may have been one of the only times you were on eye level with him. Unusual, since you were always used to looking up at him, but even if he were to kneel before you, it was not only his physique that dominated you, but also his presence, so it didn’t make much of a difference.
“Hm~ That’s nice. Like a lapdog, aren’t you?” He grabbed your forearm and caressed it until your fingers intertwined with his.
You stared at the floor in shame. Looking at him when he was looking back was like trying to stare at the sun.
He let out a content sigh and you shifted on his lap, sharing his warmth. Spit became lodged in your throat and a shock ran through you as you suddenly paused. You looked up to him slowly, being met only with a telling smirk. You felt something hard and intimidating against you, but dared not say anything. He knew that you knew, and heat rushed to your ears. You were scared to move, to stimulate him more, but felt yourself throb at the thought of him. Fuck.
Moments like these always spiked your adrenaline, as you were sure one day he was just going to steal your last shred of dignity and take you, but he remained composed day after day. For now, at least.
He spoke to you often, but for a long time you had been too terrified to respond with sincerity. “Mein Schatz, I wonder if you have any secrets.” He asked one day with his back turned to you as he worked at his desk and you sat tied up against the wall.
Your skin ran cold, your blood hot. As in if you were planning an escape? If you were hiding things from him? Was he doubting you, going to punish you?
“I-I’m not hiding anything, Doctor.” You bargained.
“Not hiding..” He swiveled around in his chair, then gestured vaguely while searching for words. He then rolled closer to you, resting his elbows on his thighs as he loomed above you from your position on the cool ground. “Just… things you want to keep hidden, that you have not confessed yet. Everyone has their secrets, no?”
“Even you?” You gathered up the courage to say, though it came out as a faint, barely audible yelp.
Your comment was endearing, as an amused exhale gave away. “Yes, my dove, even me. And you?”
Perhaps this answer was something you should carefully consider. “I guess…”
“Oh? I must say I’m curious.” He leaned down to where he was now hovering above your ear and whispered, “Shall we trade our secrets, then?”
Was this a demand? Did you have any meaningful secrets left? For days, for weeks, you had not been able to construct a coherent thought that seemed appropriate in your situation. Weakness chewed at you and seduced you to give in to him more and more.
“O-Okay. I mean, it’s not special..” You mumbled, but his interest was already piqued.
“No, Mäuschen, tell me. I will respect you.” Respect you? You sought his respect from the first day of knowing him, and so far you had never felt like you had obtained even a shred of it.
You turned your head away slightly, not being able to face him as heat rushed to your face. His adept fingers caught your jaw as soon as he noticed your rejection and grazed your chin gently, petting you as if you were a cat, slowly winning your trust to tickle out whatever information you were holding.
“Tell me, darling.” He purred through his thick accent.
“It’s just..” You met his eyes with embarrassment, then gestured for him to come closer so that you could whisper in his ear.
You sensed his hesitation; The Doctor considered the possibility of you trying to attack him, perhaps bite him. He cautiously lowered himself nonetheless. You built up your courage as you hovered inches from him and he waited patiently for your confession.
“I— Uhm.. You’re quite.. attractive.” The words were faintly heard and yet held tight in his memory as soon as they spilled from your lips. Hell, if the Medic didn’t know the contents of each of your meals, he would have suspected they were laced with aphrodisiacs. But no, it was just your mind slowly disintegrating, trying to somehow cope.
He jerked back and stared into your eyes with surprise, finding nothing but sincerity in them.
“Oh.”
The room suffocated in stunned silence for a few seconds.
“Tell me, what about me?” He demanded in a hushed voice, his tone darker and more leisurely this time. Someone was enjoying this.
“It.. feels nice when you touch me. When you let me out of my cage. Sometimes you look at me and you look so relaxed… I like that. A-And the voice you praise me in, I— like it.” You explained slowly, reading his focused expression as you spoke.
“Oh.. What a good girl. You like this? Gott, I have yet to tell you my secret, Liebling.” His voice was so quiet and tranquil, you thought it could only be the calm before the storm.
When they grew large with anticipation, he thought your eyes resembled those of a doe. He inched closer to you once more and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I masturbate to the thought of you every night.” His confession hung heavy in the air. The second you comprehended it your abdomen churned and your cheeks grew warm.
The state he left you in seemed to satisfy him.
You would have asked ‘Why not take what you want?’ if you weren’t so fearful of waking the sleeping dragon that was his lust. If he wanted to fuck his prisoner senseless, what was there to stop him?
The answer, which remained unknown to you, was his principles. For whatever strange reason Herr Ludwig (Mr. in German) had decided that he were to first tame you before he fucked you for the first time. Once you were fully broken, domesticated, he would have his way.
“Do you get nervous when I stare?” He asked suddenly one day.
His eyes were always intense on you, they were your one gateway to reading his intentions. When he really wanted you, when he was holding back with all of his might and fantasizing vividly, you felt as if his gaze would devour you.
“Sometimes..”, you hoped was a good answer.
He only hummed a brief reply.
His infatuation for you had been suffocatingly obsessive for a long time, even before he imprisoned you, but as of late it was eating him alive. He was so overprotective of you, but he craved more and more so badly. The delusional fears of losing you gnawed at him relentlessly, and he had thought long and hard for solutions until one night, they fell into his lap.
For a long time his goal had been to make you obedient to him, to domesticate you, but he had no sure way of seeing his progress. Or did he?
Recently you were left to roam free out of your cage more often, although he had meticulous security systems in place outside the house. Your arms ached less as he kept you bound less often, but the damage he did to you remained, even if he used his Medigun time and time again to conceal it.
You grew dependent on him, finding comfort and safety in his warmth and cold panic when you thought he had left you. An escape plan did not even occur to you in your hysteric state, you only sobbed and wished him back when he disappeared for short whiles.
His doubts about you remained. Were you a convincing actress? Or had you already molten down into something obscure?
“Schatz.” He called for you, “Can I ask you to do something important?”
Even when you were using your weak muscles to stand, he towered over you. “What is it?” Your voice was always meek with him no matter how much time had passed, a constant reminder of your fear of him.
“I’m going to leave for a bit. Can you promise me to stay here and wait until I return?” He could not hide his smugness even while making his request.
Your breathing quickened immediately, clutching onto his arm. “Wait, no. Please don’t go. Please.” You looked up at him with pain distorting your face.
“I have to, Liebling.”
“T-Then take me with you, please don’t leave.”
“I can’t do that. So you need to be good for me.” He stroked your cheek to wipe away the tears.
You wanted to please him, to do as he asked, but it was difficult with fear consuming you. After assuring you he would be back in a few hours, you walked into his embrace, resting your head on his chest to take one last swig of comfort before saying goodbye.
When the door fell into its locks, an indescribable emptiness spread, so much so that you did not even realize that there was no sound of a key turning, no indication that the door had been locked again. That you could maybe just open it and… leave.
To distract yourself from the growing mania within, you took a look in all of the rooms, carefully inspecting his belongings without prying too far, just hoping to find hints of him to keep you sane. When that was done, you noticed one of his coats lying on one of the chairs, and when you held it close to you the scent tranquilized you like chloroform. The next few hours passed with you sitting curled up, wrapped up in his coat, thoughts running rampant and in circles.
The Medic, however, was ecstatic. Surveying the security cameras from a nearby café, seeing you so helpless, so pathetically lost.
When the keys turned again and he returned, he was to celebrate his victory over you. And he had just the idea for a ceremony.
When did he become a god? When he discovered invincibility? Or when he dealt with the devil so deftly he escaped the grasps of hell? Maybe it was when you rushed into his arms after his return, still wearing his coat… his perfect pet.
“Did you miss me, Süße?” He could not even pry you from him if he wanted.
You only nodded quickly, burying your face into his chest and trying not to let tears spill out.
“Such a good girl..” His tone grew serious and heavy with implications, but still laced in a layer of seduction. “Do you want me to touch you?”
His advances were intimidating, but all you could do was hesitantly nod.
Trapped between his arms and his bulky chest, you merely yelped when he lifted you up, carrying you through his home without strain.
Fuck. This was dangerous, Medic in a state of no restraint, giving in fully to his desires could be the end of you. But what could you do about it? You were freed from your cage, but trapped in many larger ones. Even if you were to flee to another continent, you had a feeling it would not be enough to escape him.
He, himself, loomed over you like a prison, already tearing you apart with his gaze. Your breathing grew shallow under him as you tried crawling away on the bed he had placed you on, slowly backing away as he closed the distance between you.
He shared a look of satisfaction with you before lowering himself onto you, whispering to you that you were now completely his. In his mind, he believed that he had only removed your hard shell and the obedience that remained was your true core, that you had always been like this, waiting for him to crack you open.
“Komm her, Süße.” (Come here, sweetheart.)
It felt so indescribably good to him to begin marking you, licking and biting and kissing all over your neck and pretty collarbone. He grew so hard at the sensation of biting down so that droplets of blood spilled from his bite marks alongside your pained whimpers and he could taste you once again.
First, he peppered your face with kisses in infatuation, but when he brought his lips against yours, he was using you, sneaking his hand down between your legs and rubbing you through your panties, groping the soft flesh of your ass under your skirt. And the second your lips parted to spill a shaky moan, he saw his chance and pressed his tongue inside, exploring your mouth mercilessly as you whined into him.
He suddenly pulled away as both of you panted, leaving you confused as he stood up and looked down at you, disheveled on the sheets. Automatically, you noticed the obvious tent in his pants and were caught doing so. He chuckled, but left the room, leaving you alone and confused.
His footsteps announced his return a minute later. From behind his back, he revealed a large knife.
You ran cold with fear, pressed flush against the headrest, panting, sobbing.
“Please— Please don’t, I’ll do anything, please—” You were going to run, you had to.
“Don’t run.” He stated blankly as he approached slowly.
And his words chained you to the ground with unbearable weight, freezing you so that you could not move an inch. No, surely if you just obeyed he would be kind, he would have no reason to punish you.
You fought with yourself, but you were weak and could only close your eyes and sob as he moved over the sheets.
He took your hand into his. Then, you felt something with weight to it, but definitely an object against your palm. When you opened your eyes, you saw yourself holding the knife, pointed at him, and his calm smile.
So tranquil, so real, so terrifying because he almost looked normal and was perfectly hiding away his unhinged self.
You asked no questions, only staring at himself with wide eyes.
He loosened his tie, then removed it. He took off his vest, as well, then unbuttoned his shirt with steady hands. You wished he didn’t look good doing it. He even undid his belt, but instead of weaponizing it, tossed it aside.
You didn’t understand, but he lowered himself over you again, chest bare before you. With guiding fingers, he pointed the knife to his gut, so that it was only inches away from his skin. Both of your gazes snapped from the weapon up to each other’s eyes.
“Do as you please, mein Täubchen. Do you want to be free?” How could his voice be so sure?
You looked from him to his abdomen, then back, gulping, shaking your head slightly. “What are you doing?”
He sighed, then came even closer. Your breathing was heavy as his face was right against yours, your lips inches from his. With half-lidded eyes he scanned your features with pure adoration.
You gasped sharply as you realized that he had pushed the knife in slightly, drops of his blood now dripping onto you. It was not then, but a long time ago, that your decision had been made.
With all your power you pushed him off, quickly pulling out the knife and spinning it around so that the tip faced you and held the hilt towards him, offering him his tool. “Please, take it, it’s scary.” You cried, and when he did take it back into his hands, you pressed yourself against his hairy chest, holding him tight as he bled against you.
That sealed it. You were now his to use and abuse, to spoil and kiss and do whatever he pleased, for nothing he did would turn you against him.
He felt alive, and ‘happy’ could never describe his vivid emotions of that moment. He smiled as he reciprocated your embrace, lifting you up, kissing you all over as he pressed you against a wall with your legs wrapped around his waist so that you didn’t fall.
“You’re mine forever now.” He gasped against your neck, “Tell me, is this what you’ve always been?”
“It’s what you’ve made me.” You whispered, hands running through his dark hair, messing it up, enjoying the soft texture.
He threw you onto the bed, spinning you onto your stomach without remorse, no playing around anymore, just pure arousal. His hand came down on your ass hard, forcing you to suck in a sharp inhale as his handprint appeared on your reddened flesh.
He straddled you so that you could not move, leaning forward and pressing his chest against your back, one of his hands diving under your shirt and needily grasping your soft chest as the other one snaked down between your legs, rubbing over your wetness.
Most likely he wanted to make you overheat completely, flooding your senses with rough kisses to your neck and overwhelming amounts of attention after months, perhaps even years of abuse and neglect that were used as tools for your conditioning.
He chuckled as something came to mind. “Do you think I can condition you to you salivate at the smell of my cum? Hm?” Dark experiments were what he loved most.
“You’ll have to repeat that experiment many times for it to work..” You whined with his hands still pleasuring you all over.
“That can be arranged.” He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, enjoying you shudder. “Gutes Schoßhündchen.” (Good lapdog.)
The sounds of clothing shuffling and the sudden absence of his hands told you he was undressing. “Arms up.” He commanded and you obeyed as he stripped your shirt. He made you not wear underwear.
Head still pressed into the mattress, you could only feel the sensation of his hard cock being rubbed against your ass as he pushed up the miniskirt he got for you. Fuck, he had to restrain himself, the sight of your bare, plump ass already made him much too hard. He couldn’t wait to breed it.
“You want it?” He asked as he thrust between your cheeks slowly, shuddering at the stimulation and the sheer softness. To further tease you, he guided himself along your dripping wet folds, letting you feel his precum-leaking length and pushing himself between your thighs. Fuck, it felt much too thick.
“Is— it going to fit?” You gasped.
“We’ll see.” He grinned, your comment sending a throb through his already erect cock.
“Y-Yes, please.” You admitted shyly, but he would not let you off so easily.
“Beg for it.” He grinned as he continued coating himself in your slick.
Your blush was already so intense that it could not get worse, but you heated up regardless. “Please.. Fuck me, Master.”
“Hmm?” He needed more.
“Please… I’m so wet already. I need your fat cock inside of me, please, Dr. Ludwig, take me.” Even having those dirty words spill out made you throb.
“Dirty slut.”
Fuck. There was plenty of lubrication, but every bit of it was needed. You closed your eyes and took shallow breaths as he began pushing into you slowly, pulling out slightly, then pressing further. It wasn’t long before he was filling you up and you were unraveling quickly, whimpering against the bedsheets, and yet he was being gentle.
“You’ve been so good, so I want to reward you, but it’s getting hard to hold back.” He admitted in a low tone.
You only nodded, trying to accommodate his size. He was somewhat shaky as he spread your legs even further with his knees, pressing himself against you and stretching you out, slowly thrusting into you and sometimes hitting just the right angle to make you shudder.
“Scheiße, you’re tight..” He groaned as his hands wrapped around your torso once more to feel your pillowy breasts, fondling them needily as he fucked into you.
You tried so hard to whimper into a pillow and not so obviously out loud, but he caught on and pulled you even closer towards him so that he could hear every little mewl. He already knew where to touch, of course, how to move to make you cry out in bliss. He simply had his fun toying with you.
Your walls clenched around him as you suddenly felt him against your womb, filling you up completely as he sucked on your neck, leaving more markings as if the evidence of his sadism he left all over your body wasn’t enough, the countless wounds he embellished you with.
It was getting hard for him to contain himself, the little sobs and moans you were letting out that told him your small body was trying so hard to adapt to his size were flattering him oh so much.
He was going to use you like he did every day, fucking into you as hard as he liked and hoping you could handle it, or else, seeing you break because of him once again.
His large fingers moved down to your dripping pussy once again, this time coating themselves in your lube and beginning to rub your clit, knowing just when your whimpers became louder and more high-pitched as he stimulated you just right.
“F-Fuck~” You cried out, drooling onto the sheets as he pounded into you faster from behind, fucking you into the mattress balls-deep, breathing hard against your shoulder.
You bucked your hips against him, pushing your ass up against his dick to chase your pleasure, spurring him on more as he moaned out against you, desperately breeding you as his girthy dick stretched you out completely, the tip of his erection throbbing against your womb.
Fuck, he couldn’t stop taking you raw, it was too addicting, he thought as he pounded into you, thinking of all the ways he wants to fuck you. Outside, in various positions, with you all tied up, there was no need to worry anymore as you were nothing more than his little pet to mate with, he could now use you however he wanted.
The thought of it got him so hard, even you felt his throbs against your insides and heard his needy moans against you, your core churning and fluttering increasingly as he kept rubbing your clit and groping your tits, desperately trying to feel more and more of you. Both of you were so hot, lewd sounds of skin slapping and the delicious smell of sweat and sex in the air.
“Fuck, you feel good— Taking me so well.. Good girl..” He praised you between pants, your brain melting down as his large body pinned you to the bed and his cock continued fucking into you, filling you to the brim and pounding into your pussy.
“F-Fuck, Medic—” You whined out barely coherently as his fingers only increased their speed and he played with you like a puppet master. Fuck, you needed more of him, needed him inside of you completely.
His thrusts grew so desperate and frenzied, that’s when you knew it was coming. He was so rough that it would have hurt if you weren’t so hopelessly wet, his entire length coated in a layer of your slick. But he kept fucking into you so deep, throbbing, losing himself, you knew he was going to breed you. Everything was spinning, gasping for air, your vision going fuzzy and the heat unbearable. His entire weight pressed you into the bed as he pushed himself against your womb, spurting out his cum, filling up your womb with his seed as you writhed beneath him, coming around him with needy moans, though he continued thrusting so deep inside of you until every last drop of his cum stained your insides and you felt his creampie inside of you.
You were panting hard as he collapsed on top of you, nearly crushing you with his weight, until he finally pulled out a minute later, spinning you around and enjoying the sight of you, cum dripping out of your pussy, completely disheveled. God.
He kissed you deeply, euphoric with the sensation of your soft lips pressing against his, tasting you once again, exploring you like there was no shame.
There was something about the way that he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, that he just loved so shamelessly staring you up and down that told you he thought you were the most precious thing alive. And so in his delusions, he had to break you, make you feel him until every cell of yours screamed his name.