The Psychic

BY : SerafintheGreat
Category: Original - Misc > General
Dragon prints: 12916
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real people, situations, or locations are coincidental.

It must be April. I can tell because even I’m starting to feel a little bit more optimistic about everything. I still get my designated hour with the guy hypnotized to escort me outside. As he walks me outside, I take a deeper look at his face, something he barely notices because he’s far gone. He looks so dumb and mindless, like there’s nothing going on inside his eyes whatsoever. I always figured that was just how he looked, like, I wouldn’t expect anyone who works as a thug for the Psychic to have deep, pensive eyes.   

I’ve only seen the Psychic for meal times. He must be up to something in the city because breakfast is his dinner, then he sleeps for the entire day, and then he wakes up for dinner, which is actually breakfast, and then he leaves for the night to do the things he does. I’ve been sleeping alone, but then I naturally wake up at 4-5am to make him breakfast.  

As a result of these patterns, I feel desperately lonely. Even the Doc is barely here. I’ve been told to give him one ingredient list for the week because that way, I only see him once a week. The Psychic told me it was for my protection, and automatically I thanked him for caring so much about my safety. As a result, however, I’ve had basically zero human interaction, and it’s a dangerous place for me to be with my “zero thinking” resolution.


I wake up. It’s 3:30am. That’s the earliest it’s ever been to make his breakfast/dinner.

I drag myself to the kitchen, and I start to cook something. By the time I’m done, he’s here. I serve him, and I have a plate of food in front of me, as per his command that I always eat when he eats, but being up this early with this little sleep makes it hard to stomach food. I, however, don’t want to bring attention to myself, so I try my best to eat.

He doesn’t speak to me, but he reads the newspaper. I don’t actually process any of the words on it. I just see that it exists. He finishes his food, and he leaves, leaving the plate, the water, and the paper. I hear him go upstairs into his room.

I wish I could go back to bed, but I think it’s assumed I won’t be joining him at this hour. I look at the paper.

Baring the party, it would be my first access to the outside world since I got here almost nine months ago. Do I want to know?

My curiosity gets the better of me, and I look through it.


I read the article. Apparently a rich person has jumped out of a building, making it the fourth rich person this week to do so. I’m reading when suddenly the paper is ripped from my hands.

The Psychic is standing there with the paper. He looks at me as he tears the paper up.

“If you’re tired, you should go back to bed.”

I shake my head, “I’m alright, I should do the dishes.”

I take his plate and his glass, and I bring them to the sink. I begin washing everything, and I know he hasn’t left the room. He’s still standing there, staring at me. I try my best to focus on the dishes. When I’m done, he’s still there. I turn, and I look at him. He looks far more deranged than usual, like, he’s really angry at me. I look away from him, and I stand there, unsure of what to do. I hear him approaching, and he stops in front of me. He takes my face by my chin and makes me look at him.

Then, he slaps me so hard I fall back into the counter. I grip my cheek and try to brace myself, but then he grabs me and he hugs me really close, rocking me back and forth with him.

“I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to do that to you. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He’s hugging me very hard now, almost to the point where I can’t breath, rocking me back and forth still.

“Please forgive me, darling, please forgive me,” he won’t stop.

“I forgive you, it’s okay, please, I can’t breath,” I try.

“Such a sweet girl, such a sweet, sweet girl. Sweet girls don’t deserve that. Sweet girls deserve kisses and nice things.”

I try my best to breath as he rocks me back and forth.

“You need rest. You need a nice warm bed. Please come upstairs with me, please come upstairs.”

Before I can respond, he’s pulling my body with him out of the room and up the stairs. He’s in a state where I can’t reach him. All I can do is hope I don’t come out of this one with too many bruises. We stop at his room, and he brings me in, hugging me so close. His body shakes as he leads me to the bed.

“Please, please lie down, please,” he opens the covers with one hand and makes me lie down with the other. He’s on top of me quickly and he hugs me, resting his face in my stomach, “Please, take this off,” he says as he opens my robe. He lifts my slip up and he pulls my underwear down. He stops and he looks at my vagina. He brings his face to it, and he sniffs it, hard. My legs shake around his face, nervous that he’s going to act violently.

He looks at my legs, and he sees they’re shaking. He pets one of my legs. Then something changes in him. He looks at my leg, and then he looks at my body. He shakes his head a bit, like he’s snapped out of something.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

I nod.

He lowers my slip so that I’m covered again, and he gets up, like I’m a disease.

“I’m going to your old room to sleep, you should stay here.”

“You don’t have to go.”

 He looks at me.

“You can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.”

He looks at me like I’ve said something unfathomable.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

I lower my head, and then I start crying.

He comes toward me and he sits on the bed. He hugs me close to him and strokes my hair. I hug him back, my body so desperate for human contact. I lift my face away from his chest, and I kiss him on the lips. He kisses me as well, and we kiss one another.

“Please,” I beg, “touch me.”

He rubs his face against mine, and I take my robe off. I lift my slip up and throw it to the other side of the room, so I’m completely naked for him. He hesitates, and I pounce on top of him, planting kisses all over his face.

“Please, touch me, please!” I’m beside myself, acting purely on instinct, no logic and no judgment.  I desperately want his hands all over me, and I desperately want his dick inside of me. He hugs me close to his body and he flips me over onto the bed, so now he’s on top again.

This is it. I’ve given up on anything pertaining to integrity. I don’t care. I can’t care.

As we kiss, I rub myself against him, and quickly, I’m able to orgasm. I moan into his mouth, and he backs away from me, realizing what’s happened. He sticks his fingers inside my pussy, easily, and he licks his fingers. He closes his eyes and moans, and he makes his way down to my cunt, where he licks up everything that’s leftover. He hasn’t made a move to my clit, but when he’s done, he comes back up to my face, and he grabs me.

“I want you to cum again,” he says while looking into my eyes.

Then I feel the build up to another orgasm.

“Yes, that’s it. Let it build slowly, slowly,” I look deeply into his eyes, and I see the power is strong. I can feel a steady build-up in my pelvis. It starts making my whole body tremble, “Just breathe, breathe.”

I try to breathe, my breath shaky, and it makes me feel more aroused.

“Looking into my eyes makes you feel this way all the time,” he adds to the dynamic. I’m on the brink.

“Please, let me cum, please,” I beg now.

Then, something happens, and I orgasm, explosively squirting onto him and the bed. As I shake, he keeps his hand on my clit, massaging it still. It’s not long before I feel the build of another one. I cum on his hand, and now it’s too much for him. He rips his pants and his boxers off. He puts a condom on with shaky hands. When he’s done, he looks at me. And true to his command, I look into his eyes, and I feel instantly aroused. He puts his dick in me easily and fucks me into the bed. The whole time he makes me look into his eyes. It makes every thrust feel like the brink of another orgasm, but now I realize I can’t orgasm unless he allows it. His pounding becomes more and more vicious as he gets closer and closer and then finally, I’m allowed to orgasm just as he’s having his.

By the time my orgasm subsides, I’m done. I can’t move. It seems to be the same for him as he rests on top of my body.

In a few hours, I wake up, and he’s still partially on top of me. I feel like I can't breathe anymore. What have I done? What have I done?

All the thoughts that I've repressed are breaking through, the flood gates are opened, and I'm so overwhelmed by all of my thoughts, that I can't even figure out what I'm thinking. It's all too much.

Suddenly, I see the Psychic is awake, and he's looking at me. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening right now, I can't....stop."

I don't know what I mean, but I can't stop. I feel like I'm drowning. He grabs my face, and he looks me in the eyes, and I hope he can figure out what I'm thinking better than I can. 

"You think I'm a liar," he says to me.


"You think I lied when I told you the Doc hit you in the face."

I look him hard in the eyes, and everything is finally in focus again, "I know you're a liar." 

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