Not My Diagnosis

I sat in my office, looking over paperwork that needed filing. It was always an annoying task. Several weeks passed since I had seen him, and he was all I could think about. His consumption of my thoughts made work difficult and I stood, pacing around my office, hoping I could walk memories away.

There was a timid knock on the door and my eyes darted in its direction. I knew who it was, but wasn't inclined to talk to the person. Another slightly louder knock. I wandered over to the door and opened it quickly, successfully frightening the asylum secretary. She stared down with quick glances up to see if I was even paying attention.

"Dr. Crane, the jackets have come in. But they don't look like the size you ordered."

I quirked a slightly annoyed brow. "And...?"

"And..." She trailed off, looking once down the hall before staring at her feet again. "And shipping asked if you would look them over yourself."

"And do what?" I crossed my arms and stared her down. Maybe she would just go back to what she was supposed to be doing.

"Maybe you could try them on," she offered almost inaudibly. I narrowed my eyes at her and she could feel it.

"What. Is this some sort of joke? Or are you all revolting against me in a neurotic attempt at trapping me in irony?"

"No. Never, Doctor!" She stepped back. "You're just the only one who knows what to look for." She looked like she expected me to hit her. Since when did my asylum become overrun with incompetence?

My lip pulled up in irritation. She was somewhat right, though it frustrated me so. "Fine. Have them bring them up."

"Well, we all ready did," she mumbled as she moved out the way and a tall, sturdy man wandered into my office carrying a crate of straitjackets. She had meanwhile picked one up and handed it to me before scuttling off. Neurotic child.

I shook my head and closed the door, locking it twice as I started to unfasten my suit jacket and shirt, sliding my tie out of its loop and off with the rest of the clothes. I tossed them to my desk and slipped the jacket on, zipping up the front. It was tight, which meant it wouldn't fit any of our other inmates. I sighed, but was cut off by the sound of someone else.

I went to turn, but was seized as the arms of the jacket were wrapped around my back, my chest meeting the piles of paper on my desk. I coughed and tried to struggle as the arms were buckled to my back. The force holding me down left and I stood up as best I could and turned around. The delivery man. He smirked and I grew livid, sympathy holding no place in my plan to murder this man. Until he spoke.

"No... no, I think they fit fine." I recoiled at the familiar voice, backing into my desk. He peeled the false beard from his face and pulled the cap off from over his eyes, dropping both before running a hand through his hair to fluff it out. Nearly black and broken into slits of shimmering softness.

"She took money from you!" I was appalled at my employee, but shouldn't have expected better.

"No. But she was very open to suggestion. All I did was change your order and remove the sizing tags." He removed the jumpsuit, a black two piece underneath it with a white shirt and tie to go with the suit.

"No. No, I don't have time for this. Leave." I approached him sternly, not having time for nonsense like this, at least not today.

"Oh, come on, sugar." He grinned, his last word heavy and meant to antagonize me. It worked well. He put his hands on either side of my upper arms and I tried to pull away from him to no avail. "It looks good on you." He leaned down and kissed my neck, taking bites at it.

"I said... leave." My breath hitched with his motions, body plummeting into the dismal abyss of lust. Hours grow longer when each passing one is another away from heated contact, especially with him.

"Ooh. I love it when you resist." I shuddered under his words, trying to break from his grip on my arms that was slowly moving lower. There was a light and dark side to Mr. Wayne; and there was the very dark side to him that I doubt anyone else knew about. It made me feel special in a way, but also a bit regretful that I was the victim to his voracious sexual appetite. It almost... frightened me at times.

I broke free and stumbled back, the back of my thighs colliding with the edge of my desk. He reached for me and I ducked, pushing myself past him, and quickly forgetting that I had no means to catch myself, falling to my shoulder and rolling over onto my back. I winced as my arms ground into the floor as I came to an unpleasant halt.

He stood over me and smiled, grabbing the front of my jacket and hauling me up before putting me into one of the walls. My cheek rubbed on the rough surface as I struggled against him, an idle hand finding the curve of my buttocks right before his groin did. He ground against me, pressing me hard into the wall, chuckling in that chilling way he likes to. His lips brushed against my ear before he pushed hard against me again. "These pants fit you nicely. It would be a shame to have to tear them." One of his hands trailed around to my belt, unfastening it.

"Then don't." I pushed back against him, in much more of a fighting mood than what he suggested. He grabbed one of the arms behind my back and shoved me into the wall again. He hesitated and reached for my glasses, plucking them from my face before they fell and folding them into his pocket.

His hands finished unfastening my pants and the hand slid gently over my undergarments, massaging along my groin. I couldn't fight the arousal, as much as paperwork demanded it. As if he knew what I was thinking came the voice behind me. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you won't be able to get up from your chair for a week."

My eyes widened and he gripped me hard, grinding against me. "You have beautiful eyes, you know." He grabbed my jaw with his relatively unoccupied hand and turned my face back more, eyes scanning me. I winced and he grinned, removing his hand from my trousers and grabbing my locked arms behind me, pulling be back and planting me into the desk, more papers sliding off onto the floor.

It was surreal at times. He was such a hopeless romantic at times, and there were other times where he seemed just as bad as some of the people we lock up here; no restraint and free of any inhibition. Nothing seemed off limits at times, my only console his somewhat apparent affection for me. Maybe it was all an illusion; his love towards me. Maybe I had finally slipped into a fantasy of my own desire for his attention.

His fingers found my lips and pressed through, engaging my tongue in a battle my mouth would not win. He withdrew his fingers just as quickly as they came and had worked my lower garments down to mid-thigh. His right hand cupped the curve of the muscle while his leg pushed my legs farther apart, fingers finding uncooperative muscle as he pushed them into me. I tried in vain to pushed myself up from the table, which proved to be remarkable difficult without any leverage from my arms.

He pushed in deeper and brushed a hot spot of tender flesh that he was so ept at locating. My body shuddered and collapsed against the table, my attempts at escape thoroughly thwarted. I sighed against the table, my breath growing quicker. I heard the zip of his pants and trembled slightly, perhaps in anticipation, or maybe fear that he would keep his word on disabling me to desk work. His fingers withdrew and I let out a relived breath, though with no grounds for solace.

My pants pulled against my legs for a moment as he slid the belt out from its loops. I could feel him beaming behind me as his eyes prowled my body. My thoughts broke as the leather slapped over my haunches. A raspy cry emanated from my throat as it did, the skin nearly splitting with the contact. He chuckled softly, breaking the belt over my skin again, forcing another cry from me.

The belt was soon around my throat, pulling me off the desk and against his body. Tears welled as the fabric of his pants pushed into the welts streaked across my skin. He lips curled back into a wide smile against my ear, his tongue tracing it briefly. "You scream so well." His tongue traced my jawline, the belt pulling against my windpipe. I coughed out a whimper and he dropped me to the desk again.

A delicate hand traced over the swollen trail in my skin beneath, the gentle caress stinging like lemon and salt in a paper cut. His affection was strange and, at times, twisted. I suppose he was appealing to the true nature of our relationship; deranged and masochistic. It reminded me of our first encounters, most of the time with me tied to a bed. This was different though. Unrelenting and almost vicious, but not from his own nature. It seemed as if it was out of need to please me.

Another strike crossed one already on the verge or splitting, causing blood to run down, cooling in the stagnant air. My skin twitched around it, lungs finally releasing the air inside in a sputtering cough. He ran a hand down the dry side, genuinely fond and tender. He paused for a moment and soon pressed the head of his phallus to my unwilling body, pushing in slowly. Another cry scratched my throat and the belt slipped between my teeth, pulling me up slightly.

He pulled back and thrust into me again, the belt keeping my body bowed back. His member slid along the weak spot in my flesh, my knees trembling underneath me. He thrust in harder as I panted against the hard leather that kept my jaw parted.

A knock on the door. "Dr. Crane?" I began to say something but was cut off by a painfully hard thrust and a tug on the belt.

"Not a word," he whispered behind me, thrusting hard into me again. I moaned into the bitter material, my loins twitching as he continued to stimulate me further, pain still eating through as the fabric of his pants rocked against the welts. He gripped my phallus, saving it from the hard surface of the wood desk it, but delivering it into rough strokes.

I whimpered pathetically as he ravaged me, the pain bleeding through at noticeable intervals very clearly reminding me of our immortal rivalry. Another harder knock. "Dr. Crane, are you all right?" Tears started to wander down my cheeks, a familiar pull in my groin surprising my mind as orgasm quelled. I thrust into his hand, causing me to bounce back against him harder and the knocking to get louder as the muffled cries did.

The belt pulled tighter, thrusts unable to hold a consistent rhythm now. I screamed hoarsely into the belt and came hard against his hand, growing light-headed. He continued to thrust into me, the continued stimulation painful, but he adjusted slightly before pouring himself into me, the sensation of his twitching member inside of me causing my skin to crawl.

He lowered me onto the desk not as gently as I would have liked, stepping back from me and sighing heavily. The previously warm liquid trailed down my thighs, cooling too quickly for comfort, the blood now since merely sticky on my skin.

He grabbed me by the restraints again and pushed me to the door. "Tell them to leave," he whispered near me.

"It didn't work on you..." he pushed me to the door harder before I could finish my sentence. I panted against the door and tried to take in enough breath for a coherent statement. "I'm fine. Please, leave. I'm very busy."

"Dr. Crane, you sound injured."

"I'm fine, Jessica. Please, just leave." I breathed heavily against the door, tears welling again. He was very good at being a villain.

"Very good, Doctor." The patter of her heels faded down the hall and I closed my eyes. I was soon whipped around, my back arching as my arms pressed into the door. One of his hands found my jaw and clutched it patronizingly. His eyes surveyed my face, water staining lines onto it. His lips curled slowly with a matching leer that told me I wasn't going to be spending my afternoon filing papers.

I just hope it doesn't kill me.

{{Hope you liked it. I know it's late, but only by a few hours. I had internet troubles. This was a fun chapter to write. I hope it didn't get too... distasteful for some of you. Next chapter next Sunday.
~Dr. Crane }}