Decadence
(Disturbed Part 5)
TW- description of medical procedure, blood, needles, graphic descriptions of pain, strange sexual tension, drugging, somewhat CNC
! SMUT ! not a lot tried to keep it as gender natural as possible so no specific genitalia.
Tw change by part
Note: This took a vary long time to get out but I'm ending it here might come back to it eventually but I have other projects I want to work on and I know some people are waiting on this one.
also my first time writing smut.
WC- 1538
You lie in bed, suffocating beneath the weight of your own rage. Your body feels hollow and weak from days without food or water. He’ll return soon. Like always and it will be with something new, something he insists is “for your own good.” The thought gnaws at you. You'll die by his hand or waste away slowly.
Time dissolved into a haze. You can’t remember the last time you slept, nor the moment you woke. The days blended together, stitched only by the dim glow of the lights overhead and the faint hum of electricity. Occasionally, the silence is broken with a hollow thud or the groan of the walls settling.
Your stomach twists in on itself, every ache sharpening against the dryness of your mouth. The air tastes stale, heavy with iron and the rancid tang of decay.
Then, Movement.
A line of light slips beneath the door. Slow, deliberate footsteps echo down the hallway. You hold your breath.
The door groans open, spilling harsh fluorescent light into the room. It stings your eyes, forcing them shut against the brightness. Wheels clatter across the floor, the sound bouncing around the walls until it fills the space.
You open your eyes to stare him down with fury. He unbuckles your right hand. You get a good punch in before he grabs your throat and wrist. His eyes blaze as he pins you to the bed.
“Don’t make me sedate you,”
Fear permeates your gaze. You struggle against the thread holding your lips shut, blood drips from the needle wounds.
“Still so stubborn,” he says, studying you with unnerving patience. “You desperately want to escape, I can read it on your face, the real question is.... do you want to?” His stare strips you raw, as though he’s peeling you apart layer by layer.
You thrash in bed and His hand tightens around your wrist. He paused for a moment before returning the restraint to your wrists.
“Still so much work to be done, I might as well make it easier for myself. Clearly time isn't working. Let's find something a bit faster shall we.” he chuckles as we rummage through the cabinets. Eventually he finds what he was looking for. A clear vial he draws up 2 mg, taping out a couple of air bubbles.
He doesn't bother telling you what it's before injecting it through the IV.
Your mind becomes fuzzy. Static creeps into your veins.
Jonathan watches waiting after what feels like half an hour of your body and mind betraying you and slowly shutting down. He unbuckles the restraints you can’t fight, you can barely think.
He guides you with a false tenderness. Your legs can't hold you, they drag beneath you as he places you in the wheelchair. Your breath becomes ragged and labored as You're wheeled out of the room into an unnaturally bright hallway and into a small lavatory. It was like something out of a horror movie cracked dirty tiles and a toilet in the far corner that looked like it had never been cleaned. A leaky faucet dripped into a bucket.
He unties your scrubs, leaving you exposed. With complete indifference he throws the bucket of water at you. The water is shockingly cold and the stitches on your mouth prevent you from gasping.
He turns back to the faucet and fills the bucket. You brace for the cold, but instead, he begins rubbing you with a soapy washcloth. The water is still freezing, and you start to shiver. Soon, you’re drenched in sudsy, icy water. He throws the remaining water from the bucket on you, then refills it and repeats the process.
He leaves you in the wheelchair. It's unsettling, the only sound is your chattering teeth and the leaking faucet.
He returns with a tray. You can see what's on it, you can hear the crinkle of plastic. You spot him in the corner of your eye. He holds a blade, a scalpel.
“Let's make sure you don’t starve.”
You look up at him with hazy eyes.
“It will be easier without the stitches.”
He cuts the string from your mouth removing it hurts almost as bad as putting it in. But you can't scream this time, only feel around your mouth with your tongue and taste the dried blood.
“Sit up straight.” he demanded, as he adjusts your posture and lifts your chin.
“Breath,” he instructs, and you follow, taking a deep breath. Before a small tube is shoved down your nose and into your throat. Almost panic before the drug drags you back into the fuzzy warmth.
“Swallow” he directs. You obey, hesitantly swallowing the thin tube as it slid further into your throat and down into your stomach.
“You did so well.” He praised
He returned you to the bed. Fresh sheets caressed your skin. He changed out the IV bag and connected a tube and bag to the tube in your nose. For the first time in what felt like months your stomach wasn't aching and sleep felt safe. It made you angry but that part of you was sedated behind the persistent static.
The static never faded. You were dependent on him. He didn't see a need for restraints anymore. When you were alone you could only lay in bed unable to stand or think on your own . You were like that for days.
Eventually he started helping you rehabilitate your legs until you were able to walk with a cane. He gave you more freedom then.
First you could go to the bathroom on your own then you could wear actual clothes.
Slowly he built your trust. His presence started feeling warm and almost welcome and when you started reaching for him. That's when he knew it was time.
He found you asleep outside his office.
“What are you doing my dear?” he asked
“Waiting.” you respond
“How long have you been out here?”He guides you up to your feet and escorts you back to your room .
You shrug in response. You didn't remember falling asleep.
He sits you on the bed. You stare blankly at the floor at his black slacks torn just above the ankle at his brown shoes in desperate need of a polish.
His bony hand lifts your chin, your eyes meet his. He smiles softly before his lips meet yours. Suddenly desperate, deprived of any social or sexual connection for what feels like years.
The fire was lit, and his plan was working perfectly. Your world revolved around him.
Your hands tangled in his hair, you kissed him hard and desperate. You barely feel the pin prick of a needle in your side. Breaking away to take a breath he quickly discards the syringe and his lips make contact once again.
Your heart races as he pushes you back on to the bed. You fell awake for the first time in months.
You continued, moaning into his mouth as your arousal grew. He stripped you slowly. Until you were bare and desperate. Your eyes screamed it.
But he waited for you to say it.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as you placed kisses up his jaw line. to his ear
“Please" you whisper
“Please, what dear?”
“Please Fuck me.”
He turns to face you, his lips catching yours in another sloppy kiss; he moves to your neck leaving small marks that will be hickeys in the morning.
He grasps your throat softly his blue eyes gaze at you with a deep hunger
He migrates further down your body finding your nipple.
Your hands pull at his hair and soft moans escape your lips as he sucks and stimulates you.
He kisses down your body as his hands wonder.
His mouth finds that sensitive spot between your thighs, his fingers find your desperate tight hole.He sucks and licks as his fingers spread you wider.
Your eyes roll back, and your moans echo through the halls. You grab at the pillows and arch your back as warm waves of pleasure wash over you. He stops right before you climax.
“Please don't stop” You whine. He gently grabs your chin and kisses you softly.
“I'll be back shortly” he whispers before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
You barely have a moment to catch your breath when your head fills with fog. A sharp pain penetrates your temple like a drill. Shadows grab at your ankles and wrist.
You scream and curl yourself into a ball in the corner so terrified to blink you look around the room frantically crying.
The Pain is overwhelming, your vision turns white only the shadows dance along the walls. You feel like you’re dying, unable to move; you couldn’t scream anymore, but you hear him. His voice is low and soothing.
“You're so close just a few more moments, and you’ll be perfect, you’ll see just like I do. Just hold on beautifully.” he cooed.
It lasted for days. Constant pain only slightly dulled by morphine tortured by horrors long forgotten.
When you came to he was there stoking your hair staring with that same curiosity.
Part 4 ... Masterlist
