“Does this hurt?” He asked as she laid before him on the table.
“No,” she said softly. His brows furrowed and he moved his hands to a new spot and simply looked towards her. He couldn't gauge her response from her expression so he repeated the question. Again, she told him that it didn't hurt, and again, he moved his hands and questioned her. Then, he put a hand up her gown and in between her bare legs and she jolted up from the table a little bit and caught her breath. He watched her breasts heave up and down for a moment under her thin hospital gown.
“Not what I hoped to see,” he said, mostly to himself rather than towards her. He hummed a tune to himself for a moment while drifting his fingertips up her thigh to her knee and patting it. He put his hands in a new spot and asked her the same tired question. Her answer remained the same though her tone still startled. He walked his fingers menacingly up to her left breast and placed his palm over her heart.
“Does this hurt?” He asked.
“Yes,” she said with a slight wince then coyly smiled up at him.
“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, “You'll be a good little patient and suffer nicely.” He put his other hand up her gown again then showed her his glistening fingers tips. “Now this is what I hoped to see.”
A physical medical torture scene with a hint of emotional sadomasochism. This was a dream I had the other day during a short nap that I never got to finish. Knowing me, the hint of emotional sadomasochism was a harbinger of what would become the focal point of the scene. I think the medical setup was going to end up more mental for me than physically intimidating. I imagine anxiety attacks, restraints, drugs, and padded walls were a guaranteed outcome. I hate that I'll never know now
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