Vow of Silence (7 page)

“Fuck me, George!”

I add a second finger and thrust harder, deeper.

“Oh God! Oh God!”

She screams as she orgasms, and I am completely surprised by
her behavior. I don’t know why I didn’t think she would be a screamer but I am
very pleased that she is.

I’m not as happy about the pillow talk that follows. After
some debate, we decide she should actually visit the club, during non-business
hours of course, so that she can see exactly where I spend the majority of my
life. It’s actually her idea and one I objected to mightily. If she couldn’t
stand being in my basement, I’m not sure how she thinks she will ever be able
to tour four floors of hedonistic wonderland.

She wants to go. Now.

The clock doesn’t stop ticking while she goes upstairs to
shower and change. We open for business in less than four hours, and with
traffic we’ll lose at least an hour to travel time. It’s cutting too close and
seems like a very bad idea to me, but arguing with her is useless. I’m
beginning to see an entirely new side to Lin, and it doesn’t resemble her
delicate, submissive side in the least.

I think I like that.

Strange.

When I see her coming down the stairs, my thoughts screech
to a halt and my breath hitches. She’s radiant. Her hair is flowing loose down
her back and she’s wearing a floral sundress that leaves her legs bare. My gaze
goes to her stilettos as she takes each step and for a moment I forget to
breathe as I note her freshly painted toes.

She’s dressed for a day in the park, not a kinky nightclub.

“You look amazing.”

She ducks her head and blushes.

“Are you sure you want to do this today? Why not wait until
the changes are implemented? We could go to dinner instead.”

“I want to see the before and after so that I can better
appreciate who this Doctor Psycho is.”

“Plenty of time for that. Let’s go down to Fisherman’s
Wharf, walk on the boardwalk, maybe even take a moonlight cruise.”

“No point in delaying the inevitable.”

I swallow hard, resigned. She’s right. If she can’t accept
the place as it is tonight, she’ll never be ready to see it after it becomes
Bedlam. Still, I spend the next hour stuck in traffic trying to change her
mind. She doesn’t, and I take her in through the front doors.

I have to admit that it appears pretty ordinary at first
glance. We could be at any nightclub. But then I notice she’s staring at the
gilded cages and probably guessing they hold mostly naked dancers during
business hours. I don’t mention them and keep her walking, over the dance
floor, past the stages to the glass elevator. As we ride up she asks, “What
types of acts do you have on the stages?”

“Local musicians,” I answer lightly. It isn’t exactly a lie.

“And?”

“Demonstrations.”

“What type of demonstrations?”

“Mostly techniques.”

“George.” She says my name with utter frustration.

“We teach people how to do things the right way—control,
humiliation, consensual pain—using many methods. On any given night we will
have Master Dominants demonstrate anything from flogging to caning, wax play,
fire play, CBT.”

“CBT?”

“Cock and ball torture.”

“Oh.”

The doors to the elevator open onto the third floor, and I
lead her into The Oasis. Soft lighting and soft music lend a serene, high-end sensibility
to the dining room that feels like a step back in time. “This is where our
members-only gather.”

She turns, taking it all in. “It’s beautiful.”

I point to a floor cushion. “If I brought you here, you
would be expected to kneel or recline at my feet. You would be naked and
collared. You would be expected to communicate without words, because you would
be in canine persona all night—yips, barks, growls—would be the only acceptable
sounds coming from your mouth. I would feed you scraps from my fingertips.”

Her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t comment.

I hand her a menu. “We offer five-star dining so the scraps
would be sublime.”

“This is all very…foreign to me.”

“I know.” Taking her hand, I lead her back onto the elevator
for a ride up to the fourth floor. We exit onto a long hallway and I lead her
to my office. It looks as restrained and respectable as my psychiatric office
once did…if you discount the implements of torture I keep on display. I think
that is more shocking to her than The Oasis was. “This is where I spend a fair
chunk of my day. Now that Garrett is no longer here, I find myself mostly
behind my desk and spending less and less time interacting with clients.”

She smiles, appearing a bit guilty. “That doesn’t exactly
hurt my feelings. I hate thinking about you with other women.”

“Some women, more often men.”

“Even worse. Not that I’m homophobic, but I can’t compete
with what you would experience with a man.”

I pull her close, reminding her, “I don’t have sex with my
clients.”

“You keep saying that but I know your clients are naked, and
what you do to them is sexual, which in my mind makes it sex.”

I can’t argue that, and I’m not surprised when she pulls
away and wraps herself in her arms.

“Show me where you have sessions with your clients.”

“Okay. Just give me a second to see which rooms are
unoccupied at the moment.” I sit down behind my computer and check
availability. I take extra time, delaying the inevitable. So far the tour is
going better than expected. It could go south quickly. None of the currently unoccupied
rooms have a benign feel to them, leaving me pondering which would be less
stressful for her: the electrical shock treatment room or the mechanical
devices room. Sterile or dirty? Since I do most of my sessions with clients in
the former, I pick it. Standing, I ask, “Ready for this?”

“As I will ever be.”

I lead her down the hall and into a room that is a cross
between a gynecological exam room and what I imagine Jekyll and Hyde’s
laboratory might have looked like. She runs her hand over the paper covering
the exam table. She touches one of the gleaming, stainless stirrups. She looks
over the room’s props, bubbling beakers and flasks mounted above flaming Bunsen
burners. It’s all very controlled, going on and off with the light switch.

“If I came here for a session, what would you do to me?”

“I’d ask you to disrobe.” I sit on a small round stool and
pick up a ready notepad and pen. “I’d ask you to describe what ailment brought
you in for treatment today.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to decide if I am being
serious. “Like a real doctor’s office.”

I shrug.

“And then what?”

“I’d determine the treatment.”

“Like?” She crosses her arms, and I understand her
frustration.

I don’t know why I’m being evasive.

“I might give you a vaginal or rectal exam. Or I might
prescribe electric shock.”

She gapes at me. “You’re joking.”

“About the electricity?”

“Yes, about the electricity!”

“Not at all. Some people find electric stimulation very
sensual.”

She frowns, obviously trying to wrap her mind around what
I’ve just told her, and then does the last thing I expect her to do. She
disrobes.

Disbelieving, I watch her fold her dress and set it on a
nearby chair. She follows with her bra and panties. She steps out of her shoes.
“I would like you to demonstrate.”

Really?
I think I should have given her this tour
ages ago. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes. I want to know what it is that you have given up your
medical practice for. I want to know what people pay you to do to them.”

This is a very bad idea.

She has no idea what a cock-tease…the total mind fuck…she is
giving me right now. I want to share the dark side of myself with her so badly.
And I’m left holding myself in check because I don’t want to scare her off.

“Should I climb onto the table?”

“Yes, please.”

I close my eyes as she does so, trying to get my head
together. Rarely do I argue with my alter ego, Doctor Psycho, but today my
brain is shredded with indecision. I decide Doctor Psycho should take over. It
isn’t that I have a split personality, but I do behave differently when I am in
character. I’m stronger, more dominating.

The paper cover on the exam table crinkles and she giggles.
“I may never be able to go to my doctor with a straight face after this.”

I pull on my white lab coat and turn to face her, all
business. “Lie back on the table, please.”

I raise the padded leg rests and wait for her to lift her
legs into position. When she doesn’t, I assist her, lifting and spreading her
legs. I shift my gaze to her face. She looks significantly paler. Scared.

“Just relax, Lin.”

“Easier said than done, I guess.”

I take a moment to get ready, leaving her to contemplate
what will happen next. I gather the instruments I will be using and don a pair
of latex gloves. I push a stool into position with my knee and take a seat.
Without warning I squirt lube onto her genitals.

“Oh! It’s cold.”

I don’t say anything. I smooth the lube around, pressing
into her vagina with my gloved fingers. So far this is barely kinkier than what
she experienced in my kitchen earlier.

“The speculum will be cold.”

I touch her thigh, which makes her jump, and then slide the
instrument into place.

“You’ll feel a little pressure.” I squeeze the handle and
the bills open her. She sucks in a deep breath, and I’m not sure if it is the cool
metal or the stretching open of her hole that caused the reaction. “Does that
hurt?”

“No.”

Her voice is higher pitched than normal.

“Good, good. I’m going to start your exam now.”

She doesn’t comment.

I insert a long swab into her vagina and circle her cervix
at the base.

“I-I don’t like this, George.”

“Shhh, you’re doing fine.” Watching her face closely, I can
tell that it is not fear or pain causing her reaction. I think she is enjoying
the sensation and that is embarrassing to her. “I’m going to massage your
cervix. I want you to tell me how it feels.”

Using a thicker instrument that I specifically designed for
this purpose with a long handle and a thick, rubber tip, I prod the base of her
cervix rhythmically. I have had more than one woman tell me that it almost
feels like anal sex, except that it is better because there is no pain, no
stretching, and no embarrassment of penetration. There is just pure sensation,
and women who have never orgasmed in their life find themselves pulled into a
quick, all-consuming vortex.

“Do your clients orgasm, George?” Her voice shakes.

Uh-oh
. No point lying now. “Yes. Are you close to
coming?”

“No. I just wondered.”

Liar.

“You’re not a client, Lin. You’re my girlfriend, and I’ll do
things with you I wouldn’t do with them.” I push slightly deeper, increasing
the rhythm, and barely press my free thumb over her clit, applying gentle
pressure. I want her to experience a vaginal orgasm.

“I-it was better when I could tell myself you weren’t really
having sex with your clients, that I was just suffering from an overactive
imagination, but now I know for a fact that you are having sex with your
clients.” Her voice holds condemnation, but then she whimpers.

I blow out the breath I was holding. She is so close to
coming.

I don’t let up on the massage.

“George?” Her voice seems panicked. “Oh. God.”

I expect her orgasm and am not disappointed when she starts
bucking against my hand, her juices squirting from her body like a fountain.
“Oh God! George, stop. Please stop.”

I keep her orgasm going, making it crash over her in strong
waves until she is sobbing and wrung out. This may be the only time I ever have
her body completely under my control. This may have been a really bad idea, but
as she comes again and again I can’t believe that she would hate me for
this…but she might.

“Perfect. Your exam is complete.” I maintain my
authoritatively detached voice and with her still quivering on the table, I
remove the speculum. I cover her with warmed towels and when she is ready, I
help her to sit up.

She buries her face in her hands, and I realize she is
crying.

“Lin? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“There’s no reason for embarrassment.”

“I’ve never reacted to an examination like that!”

“I wouldn’t have thought you would have.”

“I made a mess.” She won’t look at me.

“Have you ever squirted during an orgasm before?”

“God, no! I don’t even know what to say about that.”

“Was it a good orgasm?”

She looks up at me through the veil of her hair. “Oh yes. I
have never orgasmed like that in my life. It was…amazing.”

In a very unprofessional fashion, I hug her to me and,
pushing her hair back away from her face, kiss her. I would never do either
with a client. “Maybe you would like to play doctor with me again sometime?”

Lin grabs my cock through lab coat and slacks. “You aren’t
even hard. You didn’t enjoy it at all.”

No, I did.

“I think this is all just a day at the job for you.”

I can’t meet her gaze, and I’m certainly not going to
analyze this. I slide off my lab coat and hang it on a hook. “I want to get you
out of here before the crowd arrives.”

“Because you don’t want me to be frightened from loving you
by the freaks who come here? Or because you do not want me to see the true
deviant nature of Doctor Psycho in action?”

“Maybe just because I want to be alone with you.”

* * * * *

On the drive back to my house I expect Lin to be quietly
thoughtful, processing the scene, thinking about her reaction and enjoying the
afterglow of a powerful orgasm, thinking about me. She’s chatty.