Delayed Anxiety & Foaming Rest
"Nngh..."
Na-bi squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the needle to go in. Cold liquid spread through her veins — a creeping, invasive chill. Poison? Anesthetic? Her heart hammered against her ribs. Terror closed over her: the certainty that her body would go numb, that her mind would simply cut out.
Nothing happened.
"Huh...?"
She opened her eyes. She clenched a fist, then opened it. It moved just fine. Her head was clear. She wasn't even drowsy. If anything, a strange calm had settled over her, as if the hideous terror that had been crushing her heart a moment ago had peeled away, one layer thinner.
The Hospital Director set down the syringe and smiled.
"I told you. It's a nutritional supplement."
He shrugged, the picture of a man unfairly accused.
"A special cocktail I mixed myself, for Miss Na-bi's health. Think of it as a vitamin that eases tension."
His voice sounded gentle. Not the metallic, threatening register from yesterday. Was it true? She was still suspicious — but as her body loosened, the will to resist began to ebb, little by little.
"Well then. Shall we begin the lesson?"
He climbed onto the bed. Na-bi flinched on instinct, but he neither struck her nor seized her jaw. Instead he tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek.
"We'll take it slow today. Until you get used to it."
He brought his cock to her lips. It was still a massive, oppressive weapon — but he showed no sign of forcing it in.
"Just keep your teeth off it. Understood?"
A tender warning. She trembled, but she opened her mouth. The memory of yesterday's dislocated jaw terrified her, yet the first thing that registered was relief: today was better than yesterday.
She stuck out her tongue and licked the head. It smelled rank, but it was bearable. Carefully, she took the shaft into her mouth.
"That's it. Good girl."
The Hospital Director stroked her head the way a man praises a pet. Na-bi let herself relax into the touch. That's right. I just have to last five days. I can do this much. It's better than dying, isn't it?
Rationalization kicked in inside her head. It was the drug — a poison that delayed judgment, that postponed anxiety. An alarm was screaming at her to run, right now, but her brain was filtering the signal into something harmless. It's nothing. Really.
He rolled his hips, slow. His cock pushed past her throat and reached the entrance of her esophagus. Nausea surged up; she swallowed it down and took him.
"Urgh... nngh..."
His hands slipped under her hospital gown. One found her breast. The other dug between her legs. Fingers entered her cunt and her ass at the same time — gentler than yesterday, not scraping the inner walls but rubbing them, coaxing, almost soothing.
"Hnnn... mmph..."
Her body went slack and languid. She was sucking on that enormous thing with her mouth, being violated by his fingers below — and still a strange pleasure bloomed. Her senses sharpened even as the pain dulled. Just get the key and get out. Seven days... wait. He said five.
Her thought circuits stuttered. She was forgetting important facts, locking onto the pleasure and the relief right in front of her. The Hospital Director saw her eyes go unfocused and picked up the pace.
She gagged, choked, made a wet, broken sound around him.
"Good... you're taking it so well."
His breathing turned ragged. He drove deep into her throat and came — a thick, pulsing flood. Na-bi swallowed on reflex. The rank, sticky fluid slid down her esophagus. He didn't stop. He pulled out and smeared himself across her breasts and belly, then shoved the thing — already hard again — back into her mouth.
"Once more."
A second climax. A third. Her stomach was full of cum; her face was a mess of saliva and semen. She didn't resist. If anything, she stroked his thigh with a vacant expression.
"Uegh... mmph..."
When he pulled away, she hung her head over the edge of the bed and dry-heaved. The semen she'd swallowed came back up mixed with stomach acid, glugging out of her in thick pulses. A white puddle formed on the floor.
The Hospital Director giggled at the sight.
"Cute little thing. Got greedy, ate it all, and now you've got an upset stomach."
He patted her back. Playing at kindness. Playing at concern. But his eyes were a scientist's, watching a lab rat.
"Let's go wash up. You smell."
He scooped her up. Na-bi looped her arms around his neck, limp. She felt strangely settled. Throwing up had even left her stomach feeling cleaner. Five days. Just last five days...
Cradled in his arms, she clenched her fist. I can do this. I am strong. She rallied herself, steeling her will. The Hospital Director looked down at that grim, determined face and twisted his mouth into a peculiar smile.
"We're here."
He opened the door. Damp air. The sound of water. A shower room — but something was off. Urinals? Urinals mounted along the wall.
"Huh...?"
Na-bi lifted her head in confusion. He had already carried her inside.
"Na-bi. Doctor's going to wash you."
He didn't set her down. He pinned her to the wall. Her back hit cold tile. Hot water poured from the showerhead, soaking them both.
"W-wait... this is the men's..."
The moment she tried to speak, his mouth crashed over hers. A rough kiss — the gentleness from the hospital room was gone. He sucked on her tongue as if he meant to chew it, while his hands kneaded her breasts, squeezing hard.
"Mmph! Nngh!"
She thrashed, the panic arriving late, tangled with shame. He wouldn't let her go. He lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist, and then he whispered it against her ear.
"Easy prey."
"So charming. So stupid. Such a cute little toy."
No warning. No lubrication. His massive cock slammed into her water-slick cunt all the way to the root in a single stroke. Her body lifted off the ground and slammed back against the wall with a thud.
"AAAAAH!"
"It hurts! It hurts! Doctor!"
She screamed, but the water drowned it out. He gripped her ass and fucked her like an animal. The sound of soaked flesh colliding rang out, loud and ugly — wet slaps, thud after thud. There was no mercy in his hips. Every time he punched against her cervix, her head snapped back and her vision flashed white.
"Hhk! Nngh! Ah! There! Too deep!"
Her legs clamped around his waist. Pain and pleasure tangled together and rattled her brain. He rubbed her clit with his thumb.
"Come. Clench down on my cock and come!"
"Aaaah! No! I don't want to! Aaaaahn!"
She shook her head and wailed. But her body was honest. The walls of her cunt clenched, squeezing him. Her body convulsed as she hit climax — and at the same instant, he came. A heavy throb. A thick spurt. Hot semen flooded her womb.
Na-bi went limp, strength gone. It wasn't over.
He pulled out halfway, then rubbed the twitching, re-aroused head against her entrance. Her naked body, soaked and pale under the water — that defenseless, wrecked sight fed his sadism.
"Once more."
He was inside her again. Before the aftershocks of climax had even faded, that coarse slab of flesh scraped into her hypersensitive walls. The stimulation was too much. She couldn't breathe. Her mouth just opened and closed, a silent, shattered cry with no air behind it.
"Hahk! Ghk! Kh-hh..."
Her eyes rolled back. Her limbs felt like they were going to go numb. The Hospital Director giggled at the state of her. He didn't stop — he stayed buried inside her, stroking her wet hair, soothing her.
"It's all right. Breathe. That's it."
A devil whispering sweetly. The instant she managed to drag in a breath, he snapped his hips as if he'd been waiting for it — thud, thud, thud, relentless.
"AAAAH! I'm dying! I'm dyinggg!"
She howled like an animal. Water, semen, and her own fluids mixed on the shower floor, foaming as they ran toward the drain. Her moans grew stranger — sounds with the reason stripped out, nothing left but instinct. He held her tight and kept driving her toward climax, fingering her stretched hole around his cock.
"Come. Keep coming!"
She lost count of how many times she came. Her entrance was swollen, ready to split; foam mixed with semen bubbled out of her cunt. It felt like her brain was melting.
"Hnnn... nngh..."
At last her head dropped. Unconscious. A complete shutdown.
The Hospital Director held her limp body and turned the shower on her, washing her down. He cleaned her swollen hole. He washed her hair. As if bathing a doll. He smiled, satisfied.
"Excellent. Day one of class: pass."
He dried her off, carried her back to the hospital room, laid her on the bed, and pulled the blanket over her. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Unconscious, but alive. And yet the drugs and the pleasure-torture had opened an irreversible gap in her judgment, in her reaction speed.
A sickness that made anxiety arrive late. A hypnosis that made her mistake herself for calm. Even in her dreams, Na-bi believed that if she just lasted five days, she could leave.
The Hospital Director lay down beside her sleeping form and stroked her swollen lower belly.
"Sleep well. Tomorrow will be even more fun."
The lights in the hospital room went out. In the dark, only the Hospital Director's red eyes gleamed, unnerving and bright.