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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Aug 26, 2011 20:51:45 GMT
(Continued from within the Personal Messages)
"...Sit...just...just sit" Doctor Bramsfield muttered softly, occupying himself with some papers on his desk, bustling around the office trying to distract himself from his latest vice, seated before him. He knew what he was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong. But he'd been in this job position for so long, and made so many enemies within the walls, that he could hardly pass up the opportunity to lure in a willing girl to keep him company on those lonely nights filled with distant screams and restless dreams.
"Tea...will you have some tea..." he said questioningly, turning his emerald eyes briefly upon the girl. He was much too old and much too close to death at 42, so he assumed, that he could hardly deny what fleeting passions passed through his mind... or his groin.
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Post by mirathomas on Aug 27, 2011 2:39:35 GMT
Mira sat awkwardly before Doctor Bramsfield's desk while he shuffled some papers around. The inmate's mind began to wander. She wondered what her husband, Edgar, was doing at this very moment; damn, she missed him so.
The inmate was jerked from her thoughts at the sound of the word tea. Mira could feel her mouth begin to salivate at the mere thought of the delicious liquid that she had been denied since she arrived at the Asylum. "Yes, some tea would be lovely."
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Aug 27, 2011 4:59:57 GMT
Without a word, and with much of an awkward manner, he handed the woman a fine bone china cup filled with a rich black brew that could more than vouch for the man's unending and depthless affinity for the drink. "There are rules to be set here, I believe." He said quietly.
"First and foremost, you are an inmate. No more, and no less. You have a choice, here. A rare thing, I do say. You may either remain in my company, as somewhat of a pet...an...indentured companion, or you may return to the asylum and continue for the rest of your life as one of the ranks. However, there are downsides to both, of which I will leave you to decide for yourself. However you may feel, that choice is yours," he paused to sip the still scalding brew, with not a wince or a hesitating falter, and continued, "Whether you live within the walls of my office and bedchambers, or you find residence within a cell, you will not leave this institution, nor will you ever be permitted leave. That was a mistake that I made but once, and shall never make again, I promise you."
His cold but emotionally deep eyes scanned her meager form, and he couldn't help but smirk. The shape of her hips, the curve of her womanly form... It could not be denied that this woman was quite more mature than the average sixteen-year-old nonesuch which frequented his gates much more than any older or younger girls did. He supposed there was a sort of sick pride in beholding her, but one shan't not let such fantasies get to his head. Especially not after that horrid beast he called his wife.
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Post by mirathomas on Aug 29, 2011 3:39:02 GMT
Mira nearly swooned as the hot liquid passed her lips and slid down her throat. The doctor was going on about her being his pet and never leaving the asylum walls. We will see about that, the inmate thought as she continued to enjoy her tea. It may take longer than I had planned but I will gain his trust and be free of this hell.
Mira smiled warmly at Doctor Bramsfield, "Thank you for the tea, and I will stay here as your companion."
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Aug 29, 2011 4:18:59 GMT
"Think what you may, Mira, but these walls are the only things you will ever glimpse" he said sternly, watching her body lull in an almost aroused state as she took down the fresh, steaming tea. "I see you and I have something in common, miss Thomas. It seems tea suits your tastes just fine. Biscuits, maybe? Certainly no sweets, not for an inmate, but biscuits, yes. They are dry and I can hardly fathom consuming them myself, but I can annex a small few from the dining hall when I get the chance."
He pulled a small tea bag-sized satchel of small, uneven lumps of something ivory in shade, and produced two of the roundish objects for himself, ingesting them without any tea and swallowing dryly without chewing. Within moments his tired, fragile body lulled into a more dormant state, though his eyes stayed alert and focused on the woman before him, nearly predatorial in nature.
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Post by mirathomas on Aug 29, 2011 6:19:47 GMT
Mira suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as Doctor Bramsfield mentioned, yet again, that she would never leave the asylum. The inmate also had to bite her tongue to kept herself from correcting her new companion when he called her Miss Thomas instead of Mrs. Her focus quickly shifted though when the doctor mentioned biscuits; she would kill for some biscuits, no matter how dry.
Her body stiffened as Doctor Bramsfield began to eye her darkly.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Aug 29, 2011 20:12:26 GMT
"Well?" He said bitterly, waving off her obvious discomfort and the appearance of underlying condenscendence. "Biscuits or not" he snapped, leering down his angled, pointed nose at her "I can't wait forever for you to make up your fickle little mind."
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Post by mirathomas on Aug 30, 2011 1:54:08 GMT
"Oh! I'm sorry," Mira managed to choke out. "Yes, I would love some biscuits, please."
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Aug 30, 2011 2:57:11 GMT
"I will return momentarily. Follow me" he lead her softly but sternly to a single ankle shackle attached by a long chain to the wall, giving its occupant plenty of room to maneuver the front foyer of his office, and to the bedchambers beyond, but not far enough to reach the torture chamber nor music room doors that occupied the wall opposite. With practiced and steady hands, he clasped her in, saying not another word as he leaned down imposingly, but oddly enough planted a soft kiss upon her forehead.
It got him to thinking. Where were his two beloved children at this very moment? Pickled in sanguine fluids in Lymer's laboratory? Splattered on the wall by some gruesome abortion? Or had that ungodly woman found the heart to spare the desperately insane man the two joys he had nearly laid hands on? Rather unlikely... His heart ached a bit, but the compassion soon left him, and steeled into cold, heavy, burrowing fury. He had known no siblings, had no childhood. What small amount of youth he possessed had been torn away at such a tenderly young age by nothing more than his father's own insatiable need for nonconsensual intercourse. But immaturity still held a deep ven within the dense and complex mind that occupied Doctor Bramsfield's head. It would be just that, that Mira would soon become acquainted with.
His eyes narrowed as he paused to look back upon the woman, for once seeing more than a sexual release, more than a vessel he could abuse. But no. Thoughts like those reminded him how disgusting other humans were. It was obvious he would not make it far from his current position, for after a few long strides, heels tapping harshly on the wooden floorboards, he faltered and stumbled a tad, catching himself on the edge of a bookshelf. He'd taken one too many doses of laudanum, it seemed
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Post by mirathomas on Aug 31, 2011 3:32:20 GMT
Mira waited patiently while Doctor Bramsfield shackled her ankle to a wall before he left to get her some biscuits.
Maybe this will not be so bad, Mira thought. I get tea and decent food...
The inmate's thoughts came to a halt when she noticed the docotor stumble as he neared the door. "Are you alright, Master?"
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Sept 4, 2011 17:36:26 GMT
"Yes, yes, I'm fine" he said quietly as he collected himself and took a deep breath. "Perhaps I'm not well enough to go out at the moment. Vaudier!!" He called sharply, retiring to his high-back chair as his head chaser entered the room.
"Go and fetch some of the rat treats for Miss Thomas here," he sneered, making sure to emphasize her title. "For the poor girl is hungry, and definitely off her rocker."
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Post by mirathomas on Sept 7, 2011 22:10:19 GMT
Mira's mind jerked slightly as she heard Doctor Bramsfield call her Miss once more. It angered her that the Doctor kept trying to break her spirit, but she knew that it would never work. She had faith that she would one day leave this place and be reunited with her beloved husband.
The inmate continued to stand off to the side of the room near the wall that she was still chained to while she awaited her "rat treats".
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Sept 8, 2011 0:17:04 GMT
"Cold?" He asked softly, suddenly finding himself in a different personality. He sauntered over to her side, leaning in close to her. "I could warm you up..." he offered quietly, trailing a hand over her waist
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Post by mirathomas on Sept 10, 2011 22:19:04 GMT
A chill ran up Mira's spine as Doctor Bramsfield's hand slithered across her waist, and her stomach twisted at the thought of what his words implied. But the words which spilled from her mouth gave none of this away, "I am freezing, Master."
Mira's eyes trailed from the Doctor's hand at her waist up to his eyes; she tried to look as alluring as possible. The Doctor was her key out of this hell hole and if she had to "be" with him in order to gain her freedom than that is exactly what she would do; no matter how much her mind and body protested.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Sept 11, 2011 2:31:23 GMT
"Here then," he said bluntly, retrieving a blanket from nearby and tossing it softly over her shoulders. He paused for a brief moment, finding her display quite typical, and forced back a smile. "Your stay will go much easier if you treat me appropriately. Though you may be an inmate, you're in my office. Nobody enters or exits these rooms without my permission. You do have the smallest amount of privacy here. No need to fake an attraction to this old man. Not even my own wife wanted to keep me" he muttered.
After a brief moment, he left her side, walking through a smaller set of doors to a well-furnished bedchamber. He left the doors wide open for his companion, leaving her the choice of the corner where her chain was latched, or his large four-poster bed, which was quite large enough to fit three people at the least. He paid no mind that she could see, and took to the task of undressing himself from his day-clothes, neatly folding and tucking away his ruffled blouse and black silk trousers.
Across his plentifully freckled ivory skin were many, many scars, some thick, some thin, some jagged, others curved and graceful. Though most of them had faded, some remained, clear as day, rippling across the skin that stretched taut over his thin and feminine frame. He'd lost considerable weight in the past year, and though his body was healthy and still youthful at 42, he'd all but lost any ability to perform any strenuously physical tasks. His hands shook on occaison with ferocity, and though he presumed he'd see many more a year, there were days he could hardly seem as optimistic
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