Doc Scratch/Handmaid-- Forced Orgasms

Doc Scratch is a tyrant; a dirty, disgusting creep of a guardian and no matter how many times he told her he didn’t enjoy punishing her, the Handmaid was certain he was inventing reasons to discipline her now. The girl frowns, feeling especially exposed since this is the first time he’s removed her shirt for this particularly punishment. She flexes her arms, scowling at the tight belts pinning them to the armrests of one of Scratch’s blindingly green chairs. This situation had occurred countless times before, and while she had managed to escape in the beginning Scratch was getting better at securing her. Or maybe he was just tired of letting her think she’d won a tiny victory. Closing her eyes, she let the steady rhythm of the multiple grandfather clocks in the room sooth her.

“Are you ready?” She snaps her head up, lips curling over her teeth as she practically glowers at the short man. The way he talked was as aggravating as the things he said, a weird mixture of verbally speaking and telecommunication that made his words echo in her ears and feel as though he were talking literally through her body. He stands before her in the doorway, not even facing her as he removes his jacket and leaves it hanging up near his gun holster. Each time she watched him like a hawk, studying every move he made, memorizing the order in the hopes of exploiting an opening; it was a pointless endeavor and even she knew that, but it was something to take her mind off things.

“I didn’t even d0 anything this time,” Even though he lacks visible eyes, it’s painfully obvious in the absence of a rebuttal that he is less than convinced. He takes several long strides across the room, dropping down to his knees when he gets in front of her. The troll twitches her leg, ready to deliver a painful kick right into his plush sides; however that same arrogant voice reverberates in her head,

“Don’t even bother. You wouldn’t even make it out of the mansion and you know it as well as I do.” One hand on her right leg and the other wrapping yet another belt around the limb, Scratch works meticulously even as he berates his charge. He already knows that she’s going to scowl and pout and try to kick him anyway, but she’ll hesitate and by the time she moves her free leg, the other has been properly secured to the chair leg. He swats a soft hand at her thin calf, ‘tsk’ing at the rude behavior and halting her in place before quickly binding her last free limb down. He rises with relative ease by placing his palms on her thighs as leverage, and then uses the position of his hands to raise her skirt above her hips and exposing her pink panties. The Handmaid feels heat rise to her face but fights to urge to squirm, desperate not to show weakness in front of her tormentor. His cloth hands rub along her thighs, finger tips teasing up along the bare skin, getting closer and closer to her folds. She tenses the higher he goes, her stomach knotting uncomfortably in anticipation and dread. When he stops just short of pressing against her panties and wanders off to another part of the room, the Handmaid sighs, letting her body slacken and praying that’s all the punishment she’s earned.

No such luck, of course, and those felt covered hands return to grab at her pert breasts, kneading and massaging with rapidly increasing pressure until she’s forced to cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The first guardian catches her nipples between his thumb and index finger and rubs it against his plush digits, rolling, pinching, and pulling them to hardness. She could practically cry, her body growing hot from the attention and her stomach churning with unease and arousal simultaneously. She could feel herself twitching and shifted in her seat, biting her lip to keep
Scratch from hearing her moan. He didn’t spend long teasing her breasts, and after a few minutes his true intentions became abundantly clear. As he walked back around to her front, the Handmaid glanced down to see in all his fiddling, Scratch had attached tiny bullet vibrators to her already worked up nipples, and she snarled in anger.

“Stay away fr0m me!” She tugged at her arm restraints with renewed fervor, face flushing in righteous anger and her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was an empty threat but it assuaged the guilt she felt for being aroused in the first place, and yet the pause Scratch does as he once again descends to his knees is just long enough to make her hopeful. He flicks his wrist towards an unseen machine and the vibrators on her breasts spark to life, buzzing at just a high enough speed to make her jump where she sat. Blood pounds in her ears, deafening her to the sound of Scratch's final toy being brought out. She gazes in muted horror at the hefty hitachi magic wand he's procured. Shutting her eyes, she swallows, trying to brace herself for what's coming; but she still yelps when the powerful vibe is pressed close to her body and switched on. She tenses again, squeezing her hands into tight balls as he presses closer to her, the vibrations rattling her to her very core. He moves it up and down slowly, grazing across the tightly stretched fabric of her underwear, seeming to know just when to press harder and when to let up. He’s too skilled for Handmaid to resist, and when he settles right on her clit she shrieks, tossing her head back and arching her body as she cums immediately. Dark red genetic material floods through the thin material of her panties, gushing on the seat and spilling onto the floor while she pants heavily. Scratch only takes this as a chance to increase the speed of the vibrators on her nipples, drawing a drained moan from the girl. Pressing the vibrator against her soaked panties, she’s just sensitive enough to experience a second and third less power orgasm, her chest heaving as she lets out another shaky moan. Her legs jiggle up and down as she comes down from her tremors, looking down at Scratch with blood-shot eyes,

“I-I…” Before she can even begin to form a coherent sentence, Scratch jams against her crotch, rubbing furiously against the over sensitive flesh. Despite the panties, Handmaid can feel every tiny tremor that passes through, and her body trembles as she desperately tries to move away. Her lower lip quivers as she continues to shake, straining backwards in the chair to escape the vibrator. Scratch doesn’t let up, pressing it closer and harder, silent as he watches the young woman grit her teeth and toss from side to side. Her entire upper body is flushed, covered in a light sheen as she cries out from another orgasm painfully pulled from her body. He can see her abdomen flex and spasm, thighs tensing and pulling on the belts to squeeze together.

“Please!” Her tongue falls out of her mouth as her head drops onto her chest, drool and maroon tears falling onto her breasts. Scratch lets the vibrator sit against her tortured cunt for a few seconds longer before finally shutting it off. He shakes the thick genetic fluid off the tiny machine and sets it on the table before untying the exhausted girl. She slumps down, too tired to do anything else and Scratch is the one who carries the soaking wet girl back to her bedroom.