Patient 92's Descent into Darkness

Patient 92 was no longer a patient. Her doctor had been reassigned to a new experiment overseas and had to leave her and the branch behind. Her time with him was very brief, only a couple weeks of intimacy and peace before he got the news. It was a weird and painful goodbye. He had started as the man who raped her and enabled others to rape her and became her source of security and affection. She didn't know how to process anything, but accepted his seemingly genuine apologies and they had parted ways. She felt cheated, bereft, and confused, not even confident in her ability to re-immerse herself in the world they had taken her from so long ago. Living in that building with those people, it had changed her. She was a different person from the moment she woke up on that table.
Her doctor took her home, a small apartment where she had spent most of her time reading or drawing, occasionally mustering up a bit of a social life. Returning there was like visiting a grave. They had kept payments on her rent so she would lose nothing, and she had no family and the friends she had were not very committal, so her absence was not exactly noticed. She sat on her bed for what seemed like an eternity, the experiences of her recent past feeling like and extremely vivid dream, images of violent forced sex and afternoons spent with her doctor laying in bed talking flashing into her mind. She looked around her room, at her drawings, her clothes, her books. Her life. It seemed so inconsequential compared to everything that had happened. 92 noticed again the clothes she was wearing. The time she spent with the project had been done mostly in the nude, as was her time with her doctor in his home. Clothes seemed so unnatural now, and in frustration she removed them. She looked down at her body, retracing in her mind the touch of the other patients, the other doctors, and her doctor. She closed her eyes and revisited in her mind the first time she had given into her doctor. A twinge of pain stabbed her mind, and she knew she missed him.
Desperate to escape the feeling she went to another place in her memory, one that at the time was traumatic and terrifying. Her doctor was preparing to have anal sex with her although it had been ruthlessly penetrated and damaged, and she had snatched an opportunity to run away. She ran through the building, into a stairwell, looking for a means of escape. There she encountered patient 12, and attractive man who represented violence and dominance at the time. Now, with arousal creeping up on her she became wet with the thought of him cuffing her to the railing and fucking her. He had was so powerful, so aggressive, and something in her craved that experience again. She began to trace her opening with her fingers, teasing the soft skin, her mind in another world. She thought of his hands holding her captive as he rammed into her, making her come. She slit the tip of her finger in and with her thumb rubbed her clit. Her body wanted that dominance again, that feeling of helplessness. She knew rape fetishes were not uncommon, hers, like many, being that she wanted an attractive dominant male to subject her to his will without mercy, and she realized that she would never live such an intense and fantastic reality of that desire again. That at least being what she assumed.
92 spend the following weeks doing little to rebuild her life. Books had lost her, the only world she wanted to escape to was her own previous one. Her art became disturbing and violent, manifesting the pain in her mind. She cleaned when necessary, ate when she remembered to, and slept often. She had become empty.
She eventually became unpleasantly aware of what a miserable existence she had accepted, alive but not living. She decided to get out, into fresh air, a world where people talked and did things and had what they considered interesting lives. It was nearing 2 am but she figured she had no schedule to adhere to and went out anyway.
92 didn't live in a safe place. There was a high crime rate and a lot of drug use, and perhaps she was aware of this, maybe even motivated by it. She walked aimlessly down a sidewalk, nearing a new fate not unlike her last one. She had a very interesting combination of good and bad luck. She saw a few yards ahead of her a man sitting in a car by the side of the road. In the back of her head she noticed he was attractive and kept walking. After she was well past the car, it started up, and she heard it turn around and approach her. She became unnerved, worried that her lack of money or valuables would lead to an angry mugger killing her. She walked faster. The man pulled the car up next to her, keeping in pace with her. He rolled down his window. "Hey," he said leaning over the seat, looking at her. She ignored him and walked faster. Being that he was in a car, this was pretty useless. "Hey," he said more forcefully, "I'm talking to you, bitch." She glanced nervously at him and kept walking. He lost his patience and pulled out a gun, pointing it at her. She stopped walking. "Get it the car." He sounded terrifyingly calm now, confident he would have his way. Not having been exposed much to firearms, she froze in fear where she stood. He got out of the car and walked to her, keeping the gun at aim. "Get. In." She was sure she would be killed if she tried to run, so she opened the door and got it. He returned to his seat, restrained her hands with some cable ties before buckling her in and began driving.
They drove through places she may have been at one time but were now erased from her memory with time, until they reached what appeared to be an abandoned store. He reached in the back seat and brought out a plastic bag. From it, he took tape, securing some over her mouth. Then he pulled out a leather collar with a chain leash, and put it on her. He went around to her door and opened it, and grabbed her by the collar and pulled her out. He led her to a side door through an ally, unlocked it, and led her in. He flipped on a light switch as he shut and locked the door. The light was dim but she saw that it was a modified sort of torture room, that at least being what it looked like. There were small machines, whips, bondage equipment and furniture, a lot of which she had grown quite familiar with. A strange energy hit her, and she wondered if maybe she had shut down in her real life from such disappointment that she was locked in her mind. She was pulled from this thought when her captor grabbed her by the leash and dragged her over to a large solid cushion type thing. He removed her clothes and pushed her onto it, her being bent over it and her wrists and ankles shackled. It held her in an arch, her back end up and exposed. She could not see what he was doing behind her but she heard fabric hit the floor and realized he was undressing. She felt his hand gently glide over her behind, teasing the tender skin as he rubbed himself into an erection. A mix of terror and anticipation rose in her, not sure if she wanted it or was afraid, but probably both. He dipped two fingers into her, massaging around as her juices began to flow. He nuzzled the tip of his cock around her opening, and then, plunged it into her. She tightened around him, the sensation of his dominance and his force taking hold of everything in her. He fucked her hard, sliding in and out with a violent unforgiving rhythm. She felt a climax approaching as he reached around, sliding his had between her and the chair, and massaged her clit. "You belong to me now," he said to her in a soft but menacing groan. "You're mine, I am your owner, your keeper, you will stay here and I will come and use you when I want and there is no other life to you now." She came all over his cock as he fucked her harder. "You may not submit but you will obey, willingly or otherwise." He exploded in her as she came again, filling her with hot come.
After a few minutes of rest, he pulled out of her, unshackled her and led her to a small barred cell. He chained her leg to the wall and removed her leash and tape. He locked the cell door, and left. She looked around, taking in all the tools she knew would be used on her. Exhausted, confused, and aware of a dim sense of satisfaction, she fell asleep.