Dr. Jaq Inola
New Member
Not a mod, I'm a Volunteer there's a difference
Posts: 16
About Me: The doc is the sort of woman who as a Film Noir air about her and a brewing darkness drenched in death. For the hyper-aware, perceptive and sensitive, she's the sort to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. Jaq isn't her real name and her organ stealing ways are just a means to pay for an end. The end of the hunt for her.
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Post by Dr. Jaq Inola on Apr 23, 2013 12:08:32 GMT -5
GRAPHIC CONTENT reader discretion is advisedDissolved Girl by Massive Attack:
It was quiet in the second sub-level of the clinic, except the soft rolling vocals tones and harmonious music of Massive Attack and the soft clinking of metal objects. The man's initial moans as he stirred awake were drown out by the song and her own thick thoughts. The walls were a series of mirrors however, in this room, everything but the floor was reflective and some of it cracked and shattered; distorting the image they cast which in turn warmed the other reflections. Jaq's black mascara thick-lashed eyes flicked up to watch the man as he jerked to the realization he was strapped down to what looked very similarly to a dentists chair. Wrists, elbows, chest, shoulders, head, hips, thighs, knees and ankles. He could do little more than wiggle, and squirm he did. His mouth was opened painfully wide with a ball-gag that no doubt caused his initial muffled coughing.
A rough, gargle of a sound it became as it dropped into a fearful sort of whimper when he realized he wasn't just bound to the chair, he was naked as the day he was born and courtesy of the mirrors on the roof, able to see his own raging boner; chemically induced of course, her own Viagra variant. She watched in the echoed reflections as his cock twitched in his own sudden confusion of whether or not to be excited or scared. He tried desperately to see her from the corner of his eye, unable to turn his head to get a better view. From his vantage her pale flesh appeared bare with some kind of metal strip up her spine. Only when his vision cleared a little did he get the chance to realize it was a zipper.
Jaq stood at a counter to the man's right wearing a custom designed suit made of a sheet breathable water (blood) resistant material. Thin and flexible enough not to make her feel suffocated or restrained but durable enough to handle her kind of work. The whip lashes weren't immediately easy to see when you were distracted by the elegant posture of a practically naked woman. The Nationless woman stared at him through the mirror over her own alabaster shoulder and swallowed all the emotions that would cry out of her later, leaving only the calculating surgeon and vengeful murderess. The worst part about the darkest side of Jaq was that it was when she crossed all the lines and pulled all the strings while cooing with those soft spoken knowing vocals. If ever there was an angel of death it was the bottle-blonde dark-lipped beauty.
She turned slow-like to face him, unrushed and empty handed to let him see that the front was as clear as the back and Jaq was hairless all the way down; like a porcelain danger doll, because there was no mistaking the languid prowl of her stride. Blonde, dark rooted hair was french braided out of her face and tucked up under itself so the braid didn't rest down her neck. Her pale skin, light hair and dark framed eyes and black lacquered lips almost made the bio-chemist look alienesque. Her vocals were soft and quiet in their smokey coaxing accentless tones.
"You're wondering if this is a dream..." she began. He was. "You are." She confirmed, but he wasn't. It was real and even if he didn't believe her informative octave now, he would consider it a possibility later, and eventually hope it was. Because in a dream it was okay to say what shouldn't be said, if only to be able to wake up. "You've been in a paranoid state for weeks and your sleep deprivation has finally caught up to you, sunk you into the deepest rat hole of your mind... I know I'm a fragment of your subconscious Frank, but I can't say I expected this..." She gestured to herself, planting the seed that his subconscious was surprised by the compilation of the pale skinned dark lipped temptress talking to him like she was him, or in his head anyway. She watched his brows furrow as he tried to explain the various elements of the current scene. She could see him dart his gaze around from her to the mirrors and back again.
Jaq had done her research before abducting him along with a few others he was yet aware of. She knew he was a thinker, knew he'd been paranoid because she'd given him reason to be. Psychological warfare was one of her specialties and she'd come out with claws, giving him just enough drugs to keep his consciousness just a little fuzzy, yet clear when he focused. She'd rubbed him down with a tea-tree oil based mix that enhanced the sensation across his skin. She knew from experience it felt pretty good until he'd jerked against the restraints, which was no doubt why he seemed a lot stiller and almost more relaxed as she came along side him where he could see her more clearly, more directly.
Green mud-splotted eyes stared back at him with softness that gave no hint to the carnage about to happen. "You're a smart man who likes to challenge himself..." it was true, though normally the challenges were shallow and cheap compared to what she was trying to imply he was doing in his head; creating a torture scenario to test himself should it really happen. "... and you have a rather classic, but dark taste in women.." Jaq had stalked him since she'd killed Thomas, including during her trip to the Central park fair, she'd allowed him glimpses of her, just enough she was confident he would deduce her visage in this dream was of his creation. That she was a cultivation of his observations, because he was too detail oriented not to give his assailant a face. She was also hoping he would rationalize her femininity and nakedness as that odd ball detail of his psyche that didn't want him to hate all of it. And that he was as into the dominatrix she'd spoke to, as the woman had suggested.
"This is about a certain doctor you've heard mention of, more importantly, who you heard mention." Jaq was intentionally vague, just enough to get the thought of who and when fresh in his mind. Since she hadn't asked, or yet made a threat, he'd feel more safe and impulsive in the thought and if she was right, it would increase the odds this wouldn't take very long...
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Dr. Jaq Inola
New Member
Not a mod, I'm a Volunteer there's a difference
Posts: 16
About Me: The doc is the sort of woman who as a Film Noir air about her and a brewing darkness drenched in death. For the hyper-aware, perceptive and sensitive, she's the sort to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. Jaq isn't her real name and her organ stealing ways are just a means to pay for an end. The end of the hunt for her.
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Post by Dr. Jaq Inola on Apr 23, 2013 12:16:20 GMT -5
GRAPHIC CONTENT reader discretion is advised
Breathe by Puscifer:
The loud abrupt sounds of the next song to play over the hidden surround sound speakers startled the man in the chair at first. Bringing a wicked sort of smile to her dark lips as she slowly and silently walked to stand at the top of his head looking down as lightly oiled gloved hands slid up his neck to the buckles on either side of his head that held the ball gag in place, releasing it. Giving him the freedom to slowly close his mouth before he got lock-jaw. Resting it against his throat as her fingers traced the line of bone softly from his chin to his ears. "Do you remember who I'm talking about Frank?" Jaq's voice was soft and kind in her questioning, feeling the minor shift in his attempted nod. Skeptically looking up at Jaq she could see his reservation, his doubt. She kept speaking to give him less time to think on his own, feeding him more bits of information like he was talking to himself. "You're not going to want to tell me the name, because we're not a rat are we Franky?"
He might not have been sure about her, or whether or not this was a dream but Jaq nailed that bit, Franky wasn't a rat, which was exactly why the dark doctor was being so creative. The human mind was as programmable as any computer if you knew the specific command prompts for the individual person. It wasn't an exact science and it required a lot of intimate information about their personal behavior and personality; essentially, she was using solid tangible things like the binding, his nakedness, the gag, and her touching, with more conceptual perceptions like the mirrors, music and voice. She stepped away from him as she spoke again, walking back toward the mirrored counter she'd left to approach him. Lifting her voice just enough to let it echo in the room over the soft chime of the music which seemed to come from everywhere like the whisper of ghosts.
"We're going to open your chest Frank, so we can see inside, it'll be like those autopsies we've seen ... only a little less neat, because you don't know what the fuck you're doing..." By explaining it in a relatable manner she knew he'd think about what was going to happen as she collected the tray and wheeled the thin reflective table back toward him, an assortment of tools including a full set of scalpels and a torch lighter. His voice was horse when he tried to speak, mumbling something about it, perhaps her, being bullshit. Jaq didn't give him any other vocal cues or information, she picked up a scalpel and cut into the left side of his chest, not down the middle. The blade parted the lightness of his skin and wept red the full extent of his ribcage. Making an I shape she cut along the top and bottom of the line to create flaps of tissue she could fold open and expose the bloody bone cage of his chest.
What he didn't know, was that she'd injected a local anesthetic directly into the muscle tissue while he was out, so while he was stung with the pain of the scalpel sliding across his skin, when it got to the deeper tissue it was strangely numb. A carefully designed control of his sensations to help build the possibility he was dreaming and make him more free-lipped for the sake of waking out of it. He winced and gritted his teeth with a hiss of annoyed pain and then light confusion as she opened his chest. His darker eyes looking up into the roof mirror to see it like he was looking down at himself and the ethereal woman.
"It's going to get a lot more painful after this Franky... we ready to speak the name who's whispering the rebirth of the Lady Harbinger?" Jaq knew he wouldn't give in so easy but she asked anyway, looking down over the exposed area facing her. Listening to him pant with mixed disbelief. Was this really happening? Bloody gloved hand smeared across the base of his aroused cock as she gripped and stroked; watching his bound body twist in the mixture of pain and pleasure. She could tell by the way it contorted his face as his lower abdomen clenched to the leap of his shaft in her hand. Lungs heaving inside his exposed chest cavity like a floundering trapped animal.
The drugs and dermatological concoctions she'd used on him were undoubtedly going to play a big role in whether or not he believed the dream facade. Making everything normal enough he could keep up with it, but just odd enough to be the twisted fractures of a sleep deprived and paranoid mind. As he crested near the edge of enjoyment to her stroking, just enough for the more clear precum to mix with the blood he'd closed his eyes not to see, the Doc let go. Moving her hands to curl her fingers between the rungs of his ribcage with swift soft precision and pulling them apart with an experienced strength, watching him try to bow to the sudden blinding pain that gurgled in a scream out of his mouth; bone breaking and being pried apart. Jaq imagined it just savage enough he could see himself doing it to someone else in front of others, he was a show boater like that.
Jaq's ability to do it so easily also made her seem a lot stronger than she looked like she should have been from his unknowing perspective. In her world, you didn't always have a rib spreader, so she'd practiced and learned how to rip open a chest cavity. She let go and stood with her hands in the air and watched him cope with the pain he felt in the grind of his bones; now shifted a little every time he took a deep breath. He was thinking about it, she could tell by the wild look in his eyes, but he wasn't there yet. He was a little tougher than that considering the aids she'd provided. Making him feel tougher than he really was because it didn't all hurt nearly as bad as he thought he should have, and otherwise would have. She let him stew in his contemplation as she stood in pause, like the dream couldn't continue until he made a decision, and like that devilish pale skinned dark lipped doll she appeared to be, she stood statuesque with regal posture and relaxed shoulders supporting delicate but fine facial features and deceptively patient eyes.
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