THE LIBRARY: Rebound Part Fifty-Four

{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}

“Repeat after me,” he instructed. “You know that’s not true, Kerry.” He looked at the father first.

“Uh…you know that’s untrue, dear.”

“Fine, fine,” the doctor said. “Of course you can change the endearment to anything you feel comfortable with. But the core words must remain consistent.” He turned his head toward Kerry’s mother. “You know that’s not true.”

“Now, now,” the woman stammered. “That’s just not true, dear….”

“No, I’m sorry,” Jennings interrupted. “That won’t do. You have no idea of what’s true, she does. So you must say ‘You know that’s not true,’ not ‘that’s not true.’ Do you see the difference?” The mother nodded. “Try again.”

“Now, you know that’s not true, honey.”

“Good!” Dr. Jennings straightened and returned to his seat. “Yes,” he intoned, settling down again. “She’s been through a nightmare. But if we ever want her to wake up from that nightmare, we must help her deal with the reality of what she has endured. Then we can begin the long road to recovery.”

Mr. and Mrs. Sherman thanked the doctor profusely, shaking his hand one after the other. Then he let them visit their daughter – interrupting his repeat viewing of her “rescue” when the intercom called him down to her observation suite.

There he entered the windowless, circular, room, as an orderly was pulling the hysterical Sherman girl from her sobbing mother on the floor. “No!” Kerry was screeching. “No! I came for a town map! They grabbed me! They dragged me to the cellar! They fucked me again and again and again! Why won’t you believe me?!”

“Sedate her,” Dr. Jennings instructed sadly, and waited as the orderly did just that to the screeching, writhing girl in the hospital gown on the bolted down bed. He watched dispassionately, taking in glimpses of shapely legs, firm haunches, smooth sides, and buoyant breasts as she thrashed.

When the teenager finally gave in to the injection, Jennings turned to where her father was tending to her keening mother. “I am so sorry this is necessary,” he said solemnly. “But take solace in knowing what you did was right, and very well done. I know it will be tough, but keep it up. It’s your daughter’s only hope for getting well again.”

He waited until the bereaved parents quietly left the room. He even waited until he heard the automatic locking door click shut before returning his attention to the comatose girl on the bed. “Secure her,” he instructed the leering orderly as he unzipped his pants.

“Who do you want her to be tonight?” the orderly asked as he started strapping Kerry’s ankles wide.

“Where are we?” Jennings asked as he prepared more analgesic.

“Well, let’s see,” said the specially selected and trained assistant as he strapped Kerry’s wrists to the metal headboard. “You’ve had French maid and beach bunny so far.”

“Then cheerleader tonight, I think,” the doctor decided. The orderly pulled a midriff-bearing v-necked sweater and pleated micromini from a locker, along with his video camera.

Once she was suitably prepped, Jennings straddled the extraordinarily comely, insensible, patient for her already routine, never remembered, therapy.

Later, as the orderly took his turn, Jennings gloated. “We should have her in the locked-down facility within the month, maybe even in a week, if this keeps up.”

“What if she goes all sullen on us?” the orderly grunted between thrusts.

“At her age? Little chance of that. Between her memories, the constant sensations at her crotch, chest, and mouth every time she awakens, and her parents joining the ranks of the disbelievers, she’ll go bat-shit and have to be institutionalized for her own good.”

Jennings stared at the way her chest flesh bulged so prettily between the orderly’s strong fingers. “Besides, even if she does get wise, there’s nothing she can do that a nice injection or pill we force her to take just before visiting hours wouldn’t cure….”

Then he stayed quiet and watched as the orderly finished fucking the unconscious cheerleader, keeping one eye on her lax, wet, soft, mouth. He waited until the orderly was pulling his moist log out of her and standing up before he aimed his own hard-on at her face.

“And once we have her in lock down,” he said as he impaled her lax throat, “she’s ours.”




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