Madness (Madness #1)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

“The warden wants to see you,” the usual guard who sits outside Jameson’s door calls through mine.

“Be right there,” I call back.

I fix the dress I wear every time I visit him, the red and black checkered skirt with a black bodice.

The only good thing about Wonderland is we get to wear what we want.

“Come on then,” I chirp, falling into step with the guard as we walk up to the warden’s office for my weekly visit.

Each step feels like a ritual, a dance I have perfected over countless visits with him .

The group session from earlier still whirls around in my mind. The question of who we are is nearly enough to send me into a spiral about my existence.

I am a daughter and a sister, but I was betrayed by them when I showed my true self; now I’m standoffish, and I’m slowly slipping away from the things that have happened to me in Wonderland.

The twisty hallways are second nature to me now.

They have been since I was a child, and I find myself ahead of the guard sent to escort me and in front of the warden’s office before I have time to finish my thoughts.

Schooling my features, I raise my fist and rap my knuckles against the thick wooden door.

I like games, I like playing them, and I like the rush that comes when I’m seconds away from winning.

In this room, there is no rush of a win, and the only games we play are the only ones I have ever wanted to win the most.

My life depends on it.

“Come in!” his rough voice calls, and I take one last fortifying breath to brace myself.

His office is darkened by the blinds being closed even though it is only four in the evening. His looming figure sits in his desk chair, his legs spread, and I salivate at the sight of his chest, the top three buttons of his shirt undone.

His black hair is styled perfectly. The fade at the sides needs a slight trim, but he still somehow looks perfect after a long day running this place.

“Hello, my love,” he smiles, showing off his perfect pearly whites, and I can’t help the upturn of my lips, my heart fluttering in my chest.

His presence, his voice, everything about him is magnetic, and I happily fall into the trap he sets every visit – playing willingly even when I have never won.

“Hello Wocky.”

“Come here.” He demands, pointing to the space between his thighs, and I oblige, not paying attention to the guard who escorted me here, clicking and locking the door shut.

Pausing on the spot he pointed out, I suppress a shiver as his hands glide up the back of my thighs, grazing the bottom of my ass.

“No panties today, my love?” he asks, but I hear the amusement in his voice.

“Why waste time?”

“Why take away my fun? You know I like to rip them from you when I start our little escapades,” he growls.

The red and black chess board sits on his desk, the pieces in front of us still in the same positions from last week’s visit.

I see that the queen has been toppled over, and I glance a questioning look to Jameson, who shrugs, “You knocked it over just as we finished playing. I liked having the memory of what I did to you after all week sitting there,” he says, kissing my shoulder.

“Dirty.” I laugh.

His hand tangles in my hair, tugging my mouth down to his, and fuses our lips together, “Has my other favourite patient been to visit you this week?” he asks when we finally pull away from one another.

I expect to see jealousy in his vibrant golden eyes but only see lust flaring as his pupils practically blow, eclipsing his irises.

“He has,” I purr, running my hand through his hair.

My lack of panties lets me feel exactly how wet I am for what’s to come, and I can’t fucking wait.

The games here may be crucial for my survival, but playing the games with Jameson is a bonus.

“And did he take care of you?” he asks, running his rough hand up my thigh and caressing my forbidden hole.

I clench, the foreign feeling something we have been working on, but I love how full he makes me feel even when I’m just in his company.

Jameson is overwhelming in all the best ways.

He has to be able to manage all of the patients in Wonderland accordingly, including me, even when he has his own methods for that.

His imposing figure is part of the ruse, but his bristling personality doesn’t win him many favours, and only I get to see the softer side of him – well, me and Hare.

Bright golden eyes always watch me, and his styled black hair makes him seem even more imposing than he actually is. His broad shoulders and 6’3 height add to how menacing he looks, and I hear how the other girls in Wonderland speak about him.

The power he holds is almost intoxicating – almost.

His calloused finger dips between my folds, rubbing my clit until I fall apart in his arms, my wetness soaking my thighs, and I whimper when he pushes two fingers inside of me without warning.

My nails dig into his shoulders, knowing he loves the pain almost as much as I do, and my legs shake as he works his fingers in and out of me.

I make no move to help him with the difficult situation in his trousers, knowing that it will come much later, and the game we are about to play is all part of his foreplay.

“Come for me, my love,” he whispers, his free hand pulling my head down to his and kissing me like I’m his very air to breathe, and I obey.

My orgasm makes my legs buckle, and I slump into his chest as aftershocks roll over me, my pussy clamping around his fingers like a vice stopping him from withdrawing them from inside of me, “Such a greedy little pussy, Red.” He chuckles, kissing me more softly this time.

“Are you ready?” Jameson asks, the vial and a cookie in his hand.

One stronger than the other.

“I am,” I say, reaching out for the vial – the strongest of the two.

“You know the stakes, Red. Drink or eat, and if you win before the drugs make you pass out – you get your freedom. If you don’t, I get to do whatever I wish with you,” he tells me, repeating the same thing he does each time, and my answer has and will always be yes.

It's no secret that we are together.

I wouldn’t get special visits each week in his office if we weren’t, but this game has been going on for years now, and I’ve never won.

He loves me, but not enough to let me escape this place and lose me forever.

Jameson is a selfish man who somehow doesn’t mind sharing my heart with others, but he will never let me leave of my own will – not unless I win.

I take my seat in the plush leather chair across from him, putting on my serious face and suppressing the giggle that tries to escape when he shakes his head at my antics.

I pop the cork on the vial, downing the contents, and grimace at the burn as it goes down .

“Are you sure, my love?” he asks me, “If you want to back out, then just say so, and I’ll lay you down on my couch and hold you until you wake.”

“We both know I will wake up with your cock inside of me either way, Wocky. Let me at least try to win my freedom first,” I joke.

Jameson’s face falls at my words, and I wince, knowing it’s a sore spot for him.

I love him just as he loves me, but I have a clock ticking above my head from my impending death.

She will never let me live.

“It’s your move,” he says, gesturing to the fallen queen. I pick her up and place her back onto the red square.

My hand hesitates over the piece, debating whether to move her now or to move a pawn instead.

The sedative in the vial is already working its way through my body, and I know that my time is limited in terms of how long I’ll be awake.

I rush, hating myself for giving into the blissfulness of nothing, and move the pawn one square, playing it far too safe, but Jameson only nods his head, moving his castle four squares forward from his last move, blocking my knight from taking his queen.

I can feel my eyes droop, but I shake my head and focus on the chessboard in front of me, ignoring the heated glances from Jameson and moving my castle to take his.

He laughs, and I know I’ve fucked up, but the game continues, and he moves a pawn, taking mine and placing it to the side of the board where a collection of red pieces now sit.

“Are you getting tired, Red?” he mocks as my eyes droop again, and I know I’m only minutes away from losing consciousness.

Jameson rises from his seat and walks purposefully around his thick wooden desk, stopping just to the side of me.

His fingers brush through my hair, pushing it from my face, and he leans down, kissing me.

I try to return the kiss, but my lips don’t want to cooperate with the signals my brain is sending, and I see him smirk.

“Sleep, my love, and when you wake, I’ll make sure that my cock is still buried inside of you so we can finish together. I want to take my time with you tonight,” he whispers into my hair as he lifts me, depositing me on the couch that he had explicitly put in here for us.

The last thing I see is Jameson pulling his cock free from his pants, flipping my skirt up, and him sinking into me as the black abyss pulls me under.

It is my favourite game with him, after all.