Mind Games: The Obsession of Dr Lewis

Chapter 7

Daisy

He wasn't lying. My life meant nothing to him because he had already written me off. I was twenty-seven, and I’d achieved nothing in my life. I barely survived to make a living and drank to numb my pain. There was no social life, friends or family. There was nothing in my life that had any meaning or purpose.

“In return, Daddy is going to look after you,” he said with a smile.

What? Caged in his basement forever? If my mother hadn't looked after me, why would he?

My cheeks flushed as I thought of how he shaved me all over. I tried to push the thought out of my head. He fed me the last of the bread with the delicious soup. His eyes dropped to my breasts, which made me want to cover myself up. I felt indifferent when I saw myself naked. Most of the time, I tried not to look.

“Like a sugar Daddy?” I asked, confused by why he wanted me to call him Daddy.

“No, it is more of a dominant and submissive role. The psychology of it goes a little deeper than simply an age gap, wealth and sex. All you need to understand at this point is that I look after you, and you obey me,” he said as he opened the side table drawer.

He pulled a wooden hairbrush out.

“Turn around,” he said, and I turned away from him.

My eyes caught the Pooh bear, and I held onto the fluffy soft toy. It was childish but comforting. Yet having him made me feel a little safer, even if it made little sense. I used to beg and pray for someone to save me from Tom. The one time I hid, he made it into a game, but when he found me, he hurt me so badly that I never hid from him again.

By the time I snapped out of the memory, Dr Lewis braided my hair.

“How did you learn to braid…Daddy?”

“I've been preparing since the day you came into my office, so I've had some practice.”

A shiver ran down my spine, and the chill that accompanied it.

“Do you want Daddy to make you cum?” he asked as he traced a finger down my spine.

“No, thank you, Daddy,” I squeaked in a panic.

With a chuckle, he stood up and took the tray to leave the room. I couldn't help but watch him as he left. He was attractive. His dark hair was almost black, he was quite a bit taller than me, and those grey eyes had a tinge of black around them. His hair was always styled perfectly, and he was clean-shaven with a pearly white smile. His build was muscular, considering he sat for most of his job.

It was a shame he was a power-hungry control freak. No one would believe me if I managed to escape and told them what Dr Lewis did. He looked like a respectable doctor. No one ever believed me, or if they did, they ignored me.

But it didn't stop me from wondering how hard he could make me cum.

◆◆◆

I dreaded today’s session because I knew he wouldn't stop this time. Today he would demand that I answer all of his questions.

He let me have a bubble bath last night but he washed every inch of me with his hands. It was embarrassing enough to know that he had shaved all my body hair off after I’d stupidly drank that hot chocolate. He asked me again while he dried my body with a towel.

“Do you want Daddy to make you cum?”

Again, I politely declined, but the words played on my mind for hours after he left. Eventually, I fell into a deep slumber, too exhausted to care that he could come back down. Only to wake up this morning and find myself unmolested. My deep, dark, and sick side to me was disappointed. My sane and sensible side was content.

God, I needed a fucking drink.

There was no way he would give me a drink. He might enjoy me begging for it. He fucked with my head so much. Instead of my usual vicious thoughts circling around my head, he was at the forefront of everything. I went over the questions he asked me again and again, only to realise he somehow knew too many details. He asked me when Tom had touched me, not if he had touched me. Perhaps he believed me.

It took me four years to be able to tell my mum, and instead of helping me, she attacked me. I thought about it for years and concluded that she either knew all along or blamed me. Her precious husband could do no wrong. She gave up any pretence after that, and I was left to deal with Tom for another three years before something snapped inside of me, and I ran away. He became more brazen and depraved over the years.

With a sigh, I turned over and cuddled into the soft fur of Pooh Bear. As horrid as Dr Lewis was in taking my freedom and my clothes while sticking me in his basement, I felt grateful for the comfort of being able to hug the cute bear. The sun shone into the small decking area. The majority of these kind of townhouses were converted into apartments. Space was very much coveted in the city.

The door opened, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Dr Lewis walk in, holding a pale green ceramic bowl. My eyes skimmed over him. It was the first time he wasn't wearing a suit, yet he still managed to look formal. My cheeks heated when I focused on his hands. The same hands that touched every inch of my body last night.

He sat on the bed, and I saw that he had porridge with a red berry sauce on the side for breakfast. I opened my mouth when he lifted the spoon to my lips. He had a calm energy this morning. I studied his face while he fed me and wondered if he enjoyed taking care of me or if he was pretending.

Did he enjoy the control? Was this part of his ‘treatment’?

“Thank you, Daddy,” I said after he fed me the final spoonful.

A genuine smile was my reward. It softened his cold grey eyes as the slight wrinkles at the corner of his eyes showed. He looked like a normal, attractive man. The striking contrast between his dark hair and lighter eyes was an unusual combination. He no longer needed his glasses to hide behind since his crazy was now out in the open.

“Good girl. You deserve a reward,” he murmured as he stood up with the bowl.

He left the room for a few minutes and returned, holding some neatly folded clothes in one hand and a glass of water in the other. It was a pale blue, lightly checkered pyjama set. He unbuttoned it, and I held my arm out for him as he dressed me. It all felt very intimate, but it wasn't creepy. Tom never put clothes on me. He only used to take them off.

I stood up and watched him bend down to put the bottoms on for me. When I looked down, he had white cotton panties in his hand. I held his shoulder while I put my foot through the underwear before he slipped the warm, brushed cotton bottoms on. It dawned on me that Tom only used to remove my clothes.

“He used to tell me how much he loved me,” I whispered. “They all lied.”

He glanced up at my words, but I looked away from his piercing eyes.

“While I cannot take all of your pain away, baby. I will ensure that the ones who failed to protect you will pay for what they did,” he vowed.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I met his eyes. They had a fierce look, and I was shocked at his barely contained anger. His words hit home about making them pay.

“What do you mean by making them pay?” I asked, puzzled as to why he would care.

Did he know Tom and Violet?

“All in good time. Take your medicine while I comb and braid your hair. I have pretty blue ribbons for your hair today,” he said as he stood up.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, looking away from him again.

For some reason, it was getting easier to call him Daddy.