Arizona

FOUR YEARS AGO Her name was Arizona. Her dark eyeliner against her fair-olive skin caught my eye. She was rather emo, articulating her inner thoughts on the human race on her blog during her senior year of high school with her bangs swept across her forehead. She begs for world peace. I beg for her to stop trying to be the difference. It involved intelligence, which she seemed to lack. I knew in my fifty years how to spot a true intellectual. Arizona was just a grunge girl with a serious cutting problem. How did I know this? She was stupid enough to meet me in person. "I love your tits," Matt drawled on the phone to her in a video call. I ignored the sight of him jerking his large penis to her full-figured body. I was doing the same, stroking myself to her appearance from my computer monitor. How disgusting we were, uncle and nephew participating in this heinous crime. She was under the impression dear old Matt had typed all of those affectionate messages to her cell phone, which she often sent explicit photos to him – well, me. I saved them onto m to computer, had a couple printed and hung them on my wall. Nude photos of Arizona on the left side of my bedroom, my wife no longer in the picture to ask me which Playboy model that was. But the nude photos weren't enough after some time had passed. I needed to see her soon. I sent Matt's friend to her house to put Klonopin in her water – and only her's – for six weeks straight. Then I took her off abruptly. From her laptop webcam I could see her on edge, shaking with anxiety. This, I didn't enjoy. Especially when she complained to her close friend over Skype: "I don't know what is happening to me. I'm shaky and anxious and have no idea why. My mother wants to take me to emerge for screaming at her and tearing my bedroom apart to find my shirt. Told her I was too aggravated to clean it up." I winced at the thought of what room I was going to assign her to. She needed more speed in her drinks; I had to get her here faster to clean up the mess I made with her brain. I called Matt as I watched them converse, thanks to an illegally downloaded application I had on my computer. "She needs speed." I said urgently. "Like, now. I'm watching her shake on Skype with her girlfriend and she looks insane." "I know!" Matt replied. "She looks like a fucking zombie on crack." "Dope her up on some street meth. She should be psychotic in five to seven days." As soon as I hung up the phone, I took out my lube and began jerking off to her face. I imagine her pouting her lips and staring down at herself taking my cock as I pound her harder and harder. She did spread her legs wide for Matt last time on Skype, rubbing down her slit just to show him what a dim-witted slut she was. The thought of her taking the time to get to know her body turned me on. And luckily, she never closed her laptop screen. As it faced her bed, I would watch her finger herself on her mattress every night, her bum sitting on her burgundy sheets with her thighs opened wide. She moaned my nephew's name as she climaxed. I watched her rock against her own hand, her soaking wet cunt taking her fingers in and out as she repeatedly pumped them. Her entrance sucked in her fingers knuckle deep whilst coming all over herself and her sheets. It wasn't over once she began to rub her tiny clitoris. She took two fingers and lay them on her length. Stared down at her body as she began rubbing in circles. She then stroked fast, throwing her head back and moaning aggressively. Her face turned red as she worked her expectant clit to a new dimension of pleasure. I watched her as I jerked myself faster to the momentum she was going at. I felt myself precum as she began to scream. She covered her mouth as she orgasmed, eyebrows knitted to together and her eyelids shut. Pursing her lips between screams, she bit down on her bottom lip as she did not allow her hand to stop rubbing her cunt. She was going for round two. But this time, she truly went to town on herself. She spread herself open with one hand and inserted four fingers into her lubricated hole. She is really going to fist herself for the first time. I watched her twitch in pleasure from being filled by four fingers in her loosening snatch. I just wanted to lick her pussy as she sat there pleasuring herself in multiple different ways. Give her multiple orgasms with just one body part I knew she craved but didn't get from those stupid boys she went to school with. She let out a quiet yet soothing moan as her thumb entered the region, her other hand busy aggressively rubbing her fleshy red clit in circles. She inserted her thumb and pushed her hand in further. I nearly came at the sight of her fist just sliding into her wet pussy, but I held on to see what was next. She began to lightly pound herself with her fist, being careful she didn't injure herself. I jerked myself harder to the sight of her getting a little kinky. I watched her eyes roll to the back at her head as she felt her g-spot swelling against her hand. Her hand was now fully inside of her vagina at this point. Fuck. How I longed to be there with her. I came as she began to orgasm, humping her fist which just seemed to plunge deeper into her cunt as her g-spot throbbed against it. Hot cum dripped down my hand all over my pelvis and legs and she came down from coming herself to sleep. Arizona shut off her lights and went to sleep shortly after. I logged off the application and opened my texts messages between her and I, who she assumed was Matt. "Arizona," I wrote. "Like any wildflower despite being named after a state, you are ever-growing into my immaculate angel. See you soon." I pressed send and headed downstairs to see what was on TSN. I heard my phone buzz as soon as I sat down on the living room couch. "What do you mean?" her text read. I quickly typed back to her, "I would like us to meet." — "What the fuck? You want me to meet that bimbo bitch?" Matt yelled into the phone. "Just meet her once and fuck her. Tell her you love her. It'll drive her insane so her parents can have a reason turn against her. We've done this before and she is desperate for cock." I said. "Do you know how many mothers come in concerned about their daughters talking to men on the Internet?" "Will I get charged with statutory rape?" "Rape is not a criminal charge in Canada, Matthew." There was a silence, which was broken by my nephew burping out his nachos. "Okay, I'll do it." He obliged. I had already forgotten our Arizona was a mere sixteen year old girl. Her dyed velvet red hair often had me mistaking her for a seventeen year old going through a breakup with her first boyfriend. I spent the rest of that morning gardening. I functioned on zero hours of sleep in my predatory mode. My raging hard erection would have kept me up all night with the fiendish urge to get myself off to her again. Things were different with this one. Being sapiosexual, I was not attracted to her fully. She was, what my nephew called her, a bimbo. One who didn't get laid enough. In all my years of psychiatry, I quickly learned that most teens who dealt with severe depression were over stressed intellectuals. Bimbo – I mean Arizona – wasn't. She had no mental health issues I could spot from watching her, aside from body dysmorphic disorder. Her expressions were elegant. Her beauty was defined by her bone straight red hair and thick rimmed glasses, which I assumed she only wore for fashion's sake. Her eyes were quite penetrating for one who did not think deeply at all. She courted my interest as she was artistic. Her bedroom, she must have decorated herself. Purple walls with glowing white LED lights strung above her bed and halfway across the room, ending at her walk in closet I foresaw many men hiding in. Her vanity area – a scheme of pink and black polka dotted walls, greeted by, yet again, colourful lights. I often saw her sitting there observing her flaws, which often resulted in her cutting her wrists or thighs after her perception had done some damage to her mentality. I knew she needed help. Not from some just-out-of-school counsellor. She needed to know how gorgeous she was. Also, someone to help her quit cutting. Her "best friend" was of no assistance to the cause with her self-obsession I often had to take shots to whilst listening to their conversations. My goal was to incarcerate Arizona the second I saw her attempt to slit a vein one evening as her parents fought downstairs. "Stupid, stupid body," she went on. "If I could chop myself up for looking this way, I totally would." What a fucking emo. I mouthed as I searched my contacts for the best teen psychotherapist I knew of. Amanda Presley, a close friend of mine who worked at the psych ward's outpatient program. Her reports were pristine. I could propose she run a workshop for girls with low self-esteem, ring up local hospital holding units and have the social worker make admissions arrangements. Amanda knew the drill. Capture, medicate, release. Call it a selfish search and rescue, if you'd like. — "Get me out of these clothes," Arizona demanded. "Please?" "Suck it up, buttercup." Tracey, a nurse in her sixties retorts. "You'll get your clothes back when the doctor trusts you won't break out of here." Her face twisted. I smirked. "So, I'm like, a prisoner?" I stood at the doorway and knocked. Tracey continued to make Arizona's bed as I began talking. "Actually, she can have her clothes back. I don't see the gown as necessary now that she's settled in." I say. "You must be Arizona Thomas. I'm off shift as of two minutes so we will chat tomorrow." Her face shows slight relief, though she still looks aggravated. "Do you need any anti anxiety medication for now? You seem bothered." "Yes, please," her voice came out fairly desperate. I turned to Tracey. "She's clearly distressed. I've prescribed her 10mg olanzapine for sleep and lorazepam 1mg for agitation." Tracey smiled. "I will give it to her as soon as I'm finished making her bed." At this point, Arizona was no longer scowling. I took it she had done or heard of benzodiazepines. Something we often mixed with sleeping meds. I heavily sympathize for mentally ill teens and young adults. Their lives are robbed from them. Every ounce of freedom feels like a weight on their shoulders they cannot lift off. As people their age fill their schedules with fun things to do, the same people in my psych ward stayed home on weekends introverting. Tending to addictions. It is sad, it's not living. But as a doctor I can only do so much. No one should spend their prime feeling miserable. About a half hour later, Arizona was in what looked like a complete and utter daze. The olanzapine, zolpidem and lorazepam must had been too much for her as she sat on top of her bed at 12A.M. staring blankly at the wall. "Knock, knock," I said. She wouldn't remember a thing. And if she did, it would've felt exactly like a dream. I wasn't concerned. "Who's there?" she sputtered. Her voice is laughable. The non-fuckgiving demeanour she showed me as she sat atop her bed slurring her responses. "You know what, fuck it. My uncle raped me when I was seven. And you, doctor, remind me of him." "Oh?" I respond. "Most patients with borderline share similar stories. Am I a rapist in your eyes, dear?" She averts her glassy eyes to the left side of her room. "Do you have more pills?" she asks. "And no. You're just in my fucking room under the impression I was asleep." I ignored her profanity and handed her the syringe. Her reward for being a good girl. "Would you like this now or after?" "After wha–" I shoved my hand on top of her throat and pin her arms down. I hadn't cut to the chase in awhile but this piece of work was too sexy to seduce over the period of fifteen minutes. Yes, sometimes I lost my patience. I put the restraints around her wrists, ensuring that she could not fling herself off the bed. "You think you're so big just because you can manipulate the system you fucking–" "You need to shut the fuck up, love." I cut her off. She didn't resist my arms weighing down on her small feet, quickly sliding them into the constraints. "No one is here to save you." She calmed down quickly. Then stared into my eyes with that same penetrating look aforementioned. My cock went stiff. "What are you going to do to me?" she inquired as I undid my pants. As if it wasn't obvious. This naughty teen had spent months fantasizing about BDSM. "First," I began as I leaned over her body. "I'm going to make you suck my cock." Her eyes widened as I pulled up her sleeping gown and kissed her nipples gently. My tongue circled each one, til I heard a moan escape from her lips. "Before that, I'm turning you on." "Just fuck me," she finally said. Knew it. I knew her tight, wet sixteen year old cunt was dying to be fucked. She wanted to gain an after sex glow, move on from stupid boys like my nephew, who break her heart immensely prior to her hospitalization, by the way, and go onto fucking real men. "Not yet," I replied, moving down to her stomach. She squirmed around as I kissed further down her core. When our eyes met, a sinister grin crept on her face. Was she a satanist, by any chance? If so, my nephew had no business messing with her. She whimpered as I got closer to her pussy. It was time to start teasing her. "This torture will only go on for five minutes, dear." I informed her. Her face went from keyed up to scared. "Calm down." "What torture?" She replied, her voice cracking. Her eyes darted to the restraints and back to mine. "Anticipation." I answered, laying myself between her thighs. I could smell her juices. She wore no panties under her gown and shaved her pink pussy leaving nothing but a landing strip above her clit. She was articulate for a seemingly stupid girl. And her scent was mouthwatering. I spread her muscular thighs and began planting slow kisses. She tried to move through her restraints but was met by my glare. "You attempt to move again and I will take longer." I warned her. "And you don't want to know what it's like to wait an entire hour for my cock." She nodded in response, her eyes attentively watching me as I continued our foreplay. I watched her face harden as I approached her pussy, only to move to her left thigh. "Fuck you," she complained. I kissed her left inner thigh in the direction of her knees. "No talking." I said, as I licked the bottom of her knee. She moaned so well for a virginal girl. It almost sounded as though it had been rehearsed. This side of Arizona I was glad to meet. Too bad she wouldn't remember a thing. I couldn't be happier with a better snag. She moaned repeatedly as I went down on her, and as she came, her pelvis fluttered frantically. It was a beautiful sight, seeing her come out of her shell. I enjoyed every second of pleasuring the fuck out of her. "Can we fuck now?" she begged. I kissed her forehead. "I said no talking." I said as I wet my index finger and slipped two into her awaiting hole. I began fucking her diligently with my hand. She look of shock and pleasure on her face sent a blood rush to my length, which was in my hand the whole time I was licking her. She had requested to sixty-nine, something she never tried before. But I knew it would make me fall in love with her. "For another time," I lied. I leaned over her body and placed my dick by her mouth. Almost immediately, she opened wide to take it in. As her lips brushed passed my tip down the rest of my length, I felt myself stiffen in her mouth. She moaned as she performed her five star blowjob. "I love sucking your dick." I began to fuck her mouth gently, making sure I did not trigger her gag reflex. With her wrists and ankles still restrained, she blowed me with great effort. "Fuck," I said as her head bopped faster. I wanted to take off the restraints and let her sit over my face as she went to work on my nine inch cock. I would massage her ass as I tongued her clit. Take the whole thing in my mouth as my fingertips tapped her asshole, watchfully waiting to go inside. "I'm removing the restraints." I decided, careless if her ulterior motive was to run out the door and snitch on me to the nurses who were clearly watching the show. "What? You want me to ride you?" Oh, God. If she would just shut the fuck up already. "You're going on my face." Her eyes widened with excitement as I undid the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. I knew in the way her toes curled that she was excited for this. Only she was hiding it. I lay down on her bed and watch her remove her gown. Her C-cup tits were perky, her nipples small and her stomach flat. Her olive-fair skin glowed in the darkness in places she was sweating. As she got ready, she adjusted her hair before straddling me. She lifted her leg to climb onto my face. Knowing she'd love it, I grabbed her ass and forced her onto me. Fucking bimbo bitch. She was going to come in ways she never knew she could. I started off with one hard spank on her right ass cheek. "Yow!" She complained. "Enough." I commanded. She listened and filled her mouth with my dick as I went to work on her for the second time. She had a rather sensitive clit – one slow lick from her spot to her anus had her quivering. And I was only just beginning to please her. She began to deepthroat quite quickly. She wanted to impress me. How awe-striking of her to attempt to go balls deep with me in her profound mouth. I grabbed her mass of red hair and began to tongue fuck her tight cunt vigorously. With one hand pulling her hair and the other clamping down on her ass cheek, I spoke dirty to her. "Take my tongue, you little whore," I told her. "Daddy loves it when you squirt cum all over his face." "Oh, god!" she exclaimed as I began licking on her clit fast. She went deeper down, making it halfway. I didn't expect her to get all of it in her pretty little mouth. That was what my dates were for. I spread her lips with both hands, still making sure she couldn't get off my face. Because I knew she would try to escape this intense orgasm. I didn't want to love her and she obviously reciprocated. "I-I might come." She told me, as if I didn't know. I placed two fingers in her tight, wet sopping pussy hole and kept them dormant. Only moving them to use the come hither motion on her g-spot as I began to press my tongue harder against her clit. Swirling it, I felt her body begin to shake. She continued sucking my cock, trying to keep up with my skill, seemingly forgetting I had yet to fuck her. She moaned loudly. "Honey, you need to rest and let me finish you off." I said. "You're about to cum." I took her clit in my mouth and sucked on her flesh. I could see her asshole contracting as I moaned, creating a vibration against her clitoris. She began to cry. "Please," she moaned. "Pleeease," I grabbed her neck with my right hand and spread her ass open with my left. She came, shuddering above my face and screaming out that I was her only daddy. Her orgasm lasted a minute, a whole minute of bliss and ecstasy, courtesy of my mouth and tongue. I licked her asshole as she came down from her orgasm, her body quivering. Sweat dripping from her back. She enjoyed that as well. But she began begging for my cock halfway through her rimjob, claiming she felt too turned on. That was code for her heart responding. She was falling in love with me. I could tell in every gaze she gave me afterward during that session that I had stolen her heart. I finished performing analingus on her once she orgasmed again. She ended up squirting all over my face from having her untouched, pink anus licked tentatively. It was time to fuck her after twenty five minutes of anticipation. Was she still down for it? She ended up falling asleep after she got off my face. "I'm so tired, thank you." "Are we finished?" I asked. "Already?" "Yes," she yawned. "Fuck me in my sleep." I knew there was something special about Arizona, that I knew I could never discover unless I went to the lengths I did. And I had no regrets. I did end up fucking her as she slept. Once her hymen broke, I knew her better. She was a virgin ahead of her time. Looking for the right man, not just any chap. For that, I respected her. "I had a dream I was raped." She told me in our first consultation the next morning. Oh no. "Do you have a history of psychotic delusions that manifest in dreams?" I asked, jotting down that her olanzapine needed to be taken twice daily. The guilt I felt. I couldn't put it into words. She was going to gain weight. I wished there was some way of warning her to keep her mouth shut about our system. But Arizona, I could already tell, was about to end up like every girl who cried rape… "She's in love with you," Craig, the other on-floor psychiatrist said. "You shouldn't have treated her so well. She knows, man." "Then she'll end up like the rest of them, unfortunately." I ended our conversation there. I knew what I did was wrong, and that now she trusted me. The most sinful part of the job was drawing the line between an obvious victim's cries for help and my obligation to save myself from getting reported to the college of physicians. "Next time, make sure she doesn't remember her blackouts." I groaned. "She doesn't know it was me." I lowered my voice as she walked by, in where she gave me a wink. "You sure about that?" Craig pressed on, his green eyes watching her. "She looks like she's ready to have one of us fired." "She can't afford a lawyer. And her parents won't believe her." I protested. "Cutters are seen as compulsive liars by their parents. They're very manipulative people." Craig continued watching her until he narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know the union's got you covered. But watch that one. She had trouble written all over her face." He was a cynic but he was right. "Honey, no one is raping you." We overheard Tracey reassuring her. "And if they are, I'll kick their ass. You are safe." She lied. Well, somewhat. We did ensure that our patients left the hospital one hundred percent where they needed to be. And if I knew Arizona well enough, all she needed was affection. Which she had obviously lacked. During our next meeting, she expressed her body image issues to me. She claimed that the fit nurses looked unrealistically better than reality. How much it tormented her to see someone skinnier than she was. She emphasized that certain nursing staff triggered her into wanting to self harm because their bodies were so "perfect". I made a mental note to tell the night staff to keep her waist measured daily. The last thing I wanted to see was her going anorexic over the crash dieting nurses who just wanted to look good enough for their husbands. This is what I didn't like about the adult inpatient psych ward. Anyone over sixteen could get put on a Form 1. There was an influx of teenagers around her second week in. People who had serious behavioural problems pranced around my psych ward, acting as though no longer being around their parents was a form of freedom. It was pathetic. Every one of them I saw dead or in prison in their futures. From lowlife drug dealers just coming in for benzo prescriptions to ditzy airheaded underaged prostitutes, I knew Arizona was potentially in danger. "Discharge them all," I said during our team meeting. "They're just drug seekers. Must have been a party on the weekend. I refuse to help any of them." The nurses nodded in agreement. To our right was a room full of teenagers taking advantage of asylum seeking. They played checkers and chatted on the phone to whom ever cared to call them, as the last thing they considered was the mentally ill people assigned to waiting lists to see a shrink once. There were sick people who needed to be here. I wasn't about to tolerate these pests in my psych ward. Weeks went by without me seeing Arizona. She had taken a liking to speaking with Tracey, who would jot down notes on her progress for me to read. In our fifth consultation, she finally brought up the reasoning behind her visit. "I think I'm fine now. Why were all the new people allowed to leave but I'm still here?" I sighed. "It's a work in progress. Those were just teens who got too drunk over the weekend and required medical attention. Don't know why the system sends them to psychriatrists." My voice came out an overstressed drawl, to which I stared into her eyes soulfully. "I think you're ninety-percent there." As I spoke, the emancipating guilt began to pile on my subconscious. My sweet virgin Arizona was getting quite tubby with from medications she was on. I had to make a quick decision between drugging her into misbehaving tonight, resulting in a longer stay and a medication adjustment, or simply parting ways with her knowing what I had caused. Her once voluptuous figure, languishing to over medication. I felt like drinking myself into the next day. She already had body dysmorphia, a serious perception disorder in where the patient sees typical features on their face as exaggerated and grotesque abominations. The thought of going home and seeing her new figure… the lumps of fat, the slight rolls that would only get bigger in time, despite exercise… I should have laid off on the antipsychotics. I cared deeply for Arizona, as stupid as she was. I knew she lived under a very superficial roof from what I read in her text messages between she and Candice. Her mother couldn't love anyone, whether it was a child or a man who waved his cash in her face. The anger I felt towards a woman who couldn't protect her daughter's mental health– "What is wrong, Cal?" Craig said subsequent to finding myself slumped over my computer desk as I read through the nurses' charting for that day. Arizona's notes disappointed me – she wasn't eating, she had stopped calling her friends for support and came back from her privilege breaks from the psych ward five to ten minutes late. Whether or not she was snorting coke or getting laid, I did not like it. "There is no effective treatment for anorexia." I said intently as I stared at the screen. Like any piece of shit would, he laughed. "Of course there isn't. Our media feeds us a new unrealistically-shaped bimbo every week. Exotic faces can only be found through advanced genetic engineering." I was never fond of Craig's ego and lack of sympathy. He laughed at matters that made young women call their own bodies "fucking ugly" and resort to self harming, starving, purging, methamphetamine abuse, or committing to immense hatred of oneself over a simply godforsaken society. "I need to be alone." I said, hoping he would disappear without a word. Thankfully, he did. — The next time I fucked her, I made sure to bring lube. Her delicate little snatch was too tight for my nine inches to just slid inside of her painlessly. I prepared her syringe, along with mine, my cock twitching at the thought of us shooting up together. Heroin addiction never leaves you, in less words. I entered her room quietly and debated between feeling her up til her eyes opened or waking her up with some head. As I approached her bed, my thoughts ceased once I noticed her eyes shoot open and a wicked grin spread across her face. My naughty Arizona. I thought as she slowly removed her blanket, and then her shirt. Her perfect C-cups which where now growing into Ds, in courtesy to the hormones we put in her food, were shining in the moonlight from her bedroom window. I kissed her deeply. Her pouty lips parted, inviting my tongue inside to tease her. As we made out, I massaged her nipple with one wet finger I had saturated in her pink cunt. Her moans were getting sexier every time I saw her. I knew she enjoyed it with me. Her after-sex glow said it all. I made no rush with this one when it came to turning her on. With my knee pressed against her bare pussy lips, as she never wore her panties to bed, I edged it in further up against her clit. I slowly rubbed her with my knee, feeling her juices soak the skin. Her moans make my balls tingle and ache. I then leaned down to lick her nipple, tasting her juices on the tip of my tongue. I massage the other breast in my hands as I begin to suck her nipple. When I looked up to see her to meet her eyes, she has them closed. She began to grind her clit against my knee, humping it and continuing to moan like a goddess, her plump figure shining in the moonlight through her window. I gently grabbed her neck. She came quickly. Her moans must had echoed down the halls as her orgasm came crashing down on her. "Yes," she whimpered as she swayed her hips feverishly. "Yes, daddy." I lay her down and took my length out of my pants. I doubted she had ever ridden cock before. With how naïve she was a young lass, I was tempted to make her work. But first I had to ease her into deep penetration the correct way. With my hand still gripping her neck, I spat on her wet pussy and inserted three fingers inside. She shrieked as I shoved them in up to my second knuckle. I jostled her cunt with my three fingers. She threw her head backward, humping my hand in momentum to my finger-fucking. She spoke dirty words to me as she approached her second orgasm. With my other hand, I placed two fingers in her mouth. She sucked them obligingly, staring into my eyes and moaning like a slut. She wanted it badly. I decided it was time to fuck her. Climbing on top of her, I took one of her legs over my shoulder. I searched for her entrance in the dark with my dick in one hand as my other hand cupped her left breast. Something was wrong, however. I could smell her insecurity. And nothing turned me off more than an insecure whore. "What's wrong?" I asked before inserting myself inside of her. She hesitated. "I hate my body." The anger in her voice hinted that she was bordering on a hidden rage. The one thing I couldn't have fucked up more was being thrown in my face. I was suddenly angry because it was my accidental doing, fattening her up with medication succumbing to major guilt. I didn't know what to say. "You could always stop eating." I joked. Her fake laughter had me, in all ways, turned off again. Sick of our conversation, I slid my dick into her now closing vaginal entrance. She winced in pain. "I need a hit," she complained. I groaned and reached for the needle on her night stand. "Let me do it," I told her. Arizona's insistence made me shake my head. "I know from your intelligence you don't know to go in the direction of the vascular blood flow." She was taken aback by this. I was surprised she had never been called stupid before in her life. I wrapped a rubber band around her forearm and felt for the vein. I wanted her high as a kite; she was indefinitely going to feel pain during penetration. I took the syringe off the table, made sure there were no air bubbles and poked her forearm. It slowly went in, the baby needle passing through her skin into her vein. I pushed down slowly. "Fuck fuck fuck," she moaned as it went in. I knew exactly what she was feeling – warmth and divinity. A safety blanket from any trauma she could possibly face. "My god, can I get a prescription for this?" My face hardened. She was natural born addict. Ignoring her idiotic question, I finished off the injection only to see my Arizona slowly lay down and touch herself. I fell in love with how she rubbed herself in front of me. In person, I mean. Not through her silly laptop webcam. Her luminous eyes lifted from between her legs to meet my gaze. "Fuck me, doctor." She opened her legs and tasted herself. I watched her show for a little longer before banging some H myself. She was more than ready to be fucked at this point. I knew in the way all the blood rushed to her cunt, turning it a slight beet red. I set down my syringe, her leg still over my shoulder as I tapped the tip of my cock against her tight pussy. I slid into her. My three fingers had done her in well. She was still very eminently tight, aside from being lubricated and eager. I shut my eyes as I stiffened inside of her, keeping my cock still. She started squirming again and so I pinned her free leg down. This only turned her on more. I began thrusting. She tolerated my length well. Arizona moaned rather loudly as I slammed myself in and out of her throbbing, wet pussy. And when I put my thumb on her clit, she whimpered. I couldn't help but grab her neck as we fucked in the missionary position, her moans making my balls fill with cum that was soon to be bound to her walls. She was the perfect whore, all enthused to fuck against her moral system. This turned me on. We talked dirty as we fornicated, switching from missionary and doggy style, a blowjob in between. She loved every second of my cock in her mouth. Dirty, dirty girl. At one point, she told me she was getting sore. I climbed off of her and quickly came in her mouth. Her face was that of an astonished girl as she guzzled it by my command and swallowed. "Good girl." It didn't come as a surprise to me once I found out what was truly on Arizona's mind. She was talking in her sleep moaning my first name. "You think I have no idea," she snickered. "You have no idea I know it's you." I stood in her doorway, assuming she was awake. She wasn't. Her eyes were shut and her voice was raspy – that of one who was in a deep sleep. "I know why I'm being kept here longer," she added. "You can't get enough of me, Cal." I just stared at her. This was something she dreamed of doing, clearly. Whether or not it was in the past. I wasn't worried she was going to report me. Young women with BPD crying rape was a typical case in where people seldom believed them. I sat down on her bed and stroked her cheek. Her eyes darted open, fully alert. "Hello, again." "Do you miss your family?" I expected a no. She laughed a little too loud. Her manic giggle echoed down the halls, ringing off each plastered brick. "We don't get along." No shit. Her mother didn't visit her once in the four weeks she was kept in my custody. I could tell she didn't want to talk about it, so I slipped her some Vicodin and left her to sleep soundlessly. As I left her room, she called out to me; "I wouldn't mind a bed time story, y'know." I turned around to face her. "Once upon a time, there was a dirty slut." I began. "She didn't know how ravishing she was." A wild grin spread across her face as soon as I started walking towards to her bed. "She had borderline and body dysmorphia, two life-altering mental diseases. She hated her body so much she wanted to cut it up once." She gasped. I sat down on her bed and took out my H. I went on as I looked for my vein. "All she needed was some cock, and that was all." "Can I tell you something?" she didn't even give me a chance to reply as she blurted, "I almost lost my virginity to a guy I met online. I'm glad it wasn't him I chose." Oh, you didn't choose me, dear. I thought as I started to feel her up. I caressed her hair and held her hand. Kissed her cheek and nibbled on her ear. She spread her legs, inviting me in. Of course she wasn't wearing her panties. I lay over top of her. My delicate Arizona moaned in my mouth as I made out with her, my hands trailing down her body. I was about to make love with her until I heard an alarm. I was the fucking on-call doctor that night as every other night I had stayed off-shift. This pissed her off immensely. "What the hell do you mean you have to go?" she complained, pulling her shirt back on. "It's an emergency." I answered, "I have to form someone, they've been rampant this past week. We only expected him to become violent." "Just tell the nurses to medicate him." "I might lose my job for that." She cursed and turned the other way. I apologized and left out her doorway into the halls. All I could think of was the taste of her nectarous little cunt on my way to seclude the male who had thrown a hissy fit at the nursing staff. "Jordan, you were warned about your violent behaviour. We do not abuse the hospital staff." "Sorry, doctor. I got hooked on those benzos you prescribed and yelled at your nurses." He replied. "Won't happen again." He knew the system too well. "I'm still putting you on a Form 3. I'll have Nathan hand you the list of lawyers you can call once you're out of seclusion." I said as Shelley handed me the Form 3 paperwork. "Aw, come on, man." You ruined a night that could have gone well. I wanted to say. But staying in that stretcher for an entire night strapped down was enough of a punishment for him to be forgiven. As said before, life is tough when you are mentally ill. I held it against no one. — When it came time to let her go, it was rather painful to think of never seeing her again. To wonder if she was going to be okay or if she was to relapse in about a year's time. How many people she would've told. She was in a good place when I had discharged her. She was smiling more often and setting life goals. No longer possessing that burdened look on her face. What I never expected was for her body dysmorphia to get so out of hand. Arizona ended up killing herself six months later in her bedroom while her family slept. I watched her slit her wrists in her bed from her laptop webcam. I did call an ambulance, but she had not made it. I watched her stab herself multiple times all over the rest of her body, just as she had insisted on months before. Not one of the paramedics could help her enroute as she had bled out everywhere before they could arrive. That night, I made a promise to myself I would never have another relationship with a patient again. I will never know if I had anything to do with her suicide, if I was a stepping stone for her expectations of boys; if she had been feigning her progress. She had worked close with Amanda Presley. We had all failed her.

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