I laid there for minutes. Maybe hours. The toy still buzzing faintly inside me, locked in place, holding me wide open and aching.
Dr. Caldwell was gone.
The restraints dug into my ankles, and my arms trembled as I gripped the edge of the table, trying to breathe through the pressure building between my legs. He knew what he was doing—he knew. Leaving me like this wasn’t an accident.
It was punishment.
It was foreplay.
It was both.
I wanted to hate him.
Instead, I moaned his name.
The door creaked open again, and for a wild second I thought it might be a nurse, or worse—a stranger.
But it was him.
He closed the door behind him silently, gloves already off, sleeves rolled up this time, and something darker burning in his eyes.
“You’re still here,” he said.
I gave him a look. “I’m
