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Anarchy
Christian/Ana
Forbidden Love: Doctor/Patient
I was an idiot, a fuck up. I always have been and always will be. Granted, I'm a well-educated fuck up, but strip away the doctorate in clinical psychology, prestigious family name, and face that ensures every woman who steps within a five-foot radius of me turns into a puddle of goo, all that's left is an asshole who lacks impulse control and basic common sense.
The technical diagnosis for people like me is antisocial personality disorder with narcissistic tendencies. In laymen's terms, I was wired wrong. I've never been officially treated, but I'm a professional. I know the signs.
Every morning I pulled on one of my chunky cable knit sweaters and a pair of sensible brown loafers, and spent my day helping other crazy people deal with the bullshit that ate away at their brains. It was exhausting, pretending to care about their problems. I looked the part, but there was a dragon hiding just beneath my skin.
Conjuring false sympathy and compassion for people who I would be more than okay with never seeing again made the dragon restless, and when he got restless, he turned vicious.
For the sake of maintaining the outward professionalism my day job demanded, I spent my nights wading through pools of my own vices. Chief among them, alcohol, prescription pills, and pussy.
My routine, Dr. Christian Grey by day and utter maniac at night, was working. I was good at pretending. I was good at helping people, and my darker proclivities never interfered with my real life. All that changed about two months ago when a brown haired, blue eyed demon from my past checked herself into the facility where I worked for a three month stint to treat depression and sex addiction.
I know what you're thinking, and yes, there are measures in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening. Treating a patient that I once spent a weekend locked in an Aspen hotel room with, fucking every available orifice on her body, had to be a conflict of interest, right? You better fucking believe it was, and yes, there was a protocol for that sort of thing, but those rules only apply if you report the relationship to your supervisor. Otherwise, no one would know that you snorted coke off said psycho's ass.
In hindsight, I should have known this would end in chaos, but I'm a narcissist, remember? I thought I could handle it. I thought hey, I'm a highly-qualified psychiatrist, and this girl is so fucked up I would be doing her a disservice by not treating her. She needed me, and who was I to deny her needs? Also, we spent one weekend, three years ago, in a coke induced fog. I was flying so high I could touch the stars and Anastasia, she was on another galaxy.
There was no way she would recognize me. So much had happened since then, I wasn't even the same man. Or so I thought. The thing about us narcissists that even I sometimes forget is our heads are usually so far up our own asses, we couldn't see the shit even as we waded through it.
Yeah, I was an idiot. She knew exactly who I was from the first time she walked into my office. Her hungry gaze locked onto mine and a slow smile crept across her face. Her pupils dilated, turning her pale blue eyes into black saucers. My dick reacted before my brain had a chance, the dragon was rearing his ugly head. I was instantly turned on, so much that I had to hide the bulge tenting my slacks with the Times sports section as I stood to greet her.
"Dr. Grey," she purred, eyeing the conspicuous placement of the newspaper. I could taste her arousal in the air. If she really had come to Meadowbrook for help, that notion went out the window the moment she spotted me. I don't know who she pissed off in a past life, or what cursed spirit send her into my clinic and straight to my office, but what I lacked in morality, I made up for in ego.
I should have rectified the situation immediately, but I couldn't see past the dragon to her wellbeing. There was no right or wrong, or up or down. I couldn't see anything other than the vision of my cock sliding in and out of her wet slit. I couldn't hear the rational side of my brain screaming at me to send her away. There were only the sounds of her garbled moans as I fucked her face.
"Ms. Steele, it's a pleasure to meet you," I said angling my head slightly towards the camera sitting in the corner of my office. Per center guidelines, every session with every patient was recorded. It was to protect them as well as enable us to better serve them. The feed went to Meadowbrook's servers where we could access them later if needed. It's also monitored by the clinic director, for quality control. I didn't know how often the footage was monitored, I only hoped Anastasia was cognizant enough to pick up on my hint.
She nodded imperceptibly, as understanding washed across her face. She took a seat on the brown suede couch and we began. We spent that first meeting talking about the things she'd hoped to accomplish during her time at Meadowbrook, about how she previously coped with her disorder, and where she saw herself after her treatment was complete.
She answered every question perfectly, too perfectly. Like she'd read every book on the subject and memorized the right things to say. I didn't bother calling her out though, she was keeping my secret, so I'd keep hers.
It was a standard visit and Anastasia was a smart woman. Crazy as fuck, but smart nonetheless. A New York Times bestselling author, who wrote self-help books for women all about accepting their sexuality and embracing their inner slut.
Ironic, huh. The queen slut was seeking help for being the thing that made her millions.
After that first session, I thought, maybe this could work. Maybe I could get through this without losing my license, but again, I am insane.
The second time she came to my office, she wore a powder blue sundress that matched her eyes. When she sat on the brown suede couch in front of me with her legs spread wide, I was treated to a front row view of her freshly shaven pussy. It was dripping wet, and swollen, like she'd just finished fingering herself. I could smell her need, he could smell it too, the dragon, and he wanted another taste.
After she bullshitted her way through her second session, we fucked in the southeast stairwell. When we were done, I left her there, quivering with my semen dripping down her thigh, and I drove home.
For all the money Meadowbrook charges to make patients "healthy", you'd think they'd invest a little more in security. In all, there are about ten blind spots throughout the facility and another four on the grounds. Places where the cameras either don't work or they're angled in such a way that if you are familiar enough, say one of the resident psychiatrists, getting around unnoticed was easy.
After our third session, she blew me in the third-floor broom closet. After our ninth, I sodomized her. Before you judge me, she begged me to do it. Still, I knew the ramifications if we got caught. She was a patient in my care and couldn't legally consent, and I was the idiot who was throwing away a lifetime of schooling, among other things, because I couldn't keep my dick out of the little nympho.
.
"Dr. Grey, Anastasia is here to see you," Andrea, my assistant, said. I could hear her scowling over the intercom. I hated Andrea, and the feeling was mutual. Of everyone at Meadowbrook, she was the only person who saw the real me. She saw past the Dr. Grey persona I wore like a suit of armor, right through to the dragon that hid just beneath my skin. Having her around was inconvenient.
"Send her in," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I may be insane and I may have an undiagnosed personality disorder, but even I knew when to say uncle.
The door swung open forcefully and Anastasia stomped into my office with murder in her eyes. "Dr. Grey," she purred as usual, only that time her tone was less sexual and more sinister.
"Have a seat Ms. Steele," I said, pointing to the couch. I wanted to strangle her. She caused a scene in the cafeteria, attacked a female member of the staff and threw grape juice all over my white Versace sweater.
"Yes, sir," she said demurely, biting down on her lip. The little bitch was taunting me, daring me to come out and play. One thing you should know about me is that I never back down from a challenge. Dr. Grey had left the building, leaving the snarling beast behind. That was just one of the many mistakes I'd made. Dr. Grey, though unkind was rational. The dragon was not.
"Do you know why you're here?" I asked as she sat on the couch. I remained standing, the toes of my loafers touching her flats. My six-two body towering over her five-foot-three frame.
She shrugged innocently as her eyes roamed my office. It was dark, like the inside of my brain. A large cherry wood desk sat in the center and brown suede furniture was dotted through the room. The only color in the entire space was the large green fern that sat in the corner of the room. My mother said it gave the space life. It's only still living because Andrea tends to it.
"You've got a thing for blondes," she said, sneering at one of the photographs sitting on my desk.
I followed her gaze to see her eyes landed on a picture of me at graduation with my arm wrapped around a petite blonde. "My sister," I grunted quickly before changing the subject to something a little less personal. "I believe I asked you a question." I was still standing inches away from her body, and she was still sitting there like a sane person who couldn't comprehend my ire.
Ignoring me, her eyes continued to roam the room, taking in my bachelors from Duke, as well as my masters and doctorate from Cornell. "You're a highly-educated man," she said darkly. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Anastasia," I warned. "Why did you hit Dr. Kavanagh across the face with a lunch tray?"
"Because she's a slut who can't seem to keep her hands off you," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.
I knew why she hit the bitch and in truth, I was getting a little annoyed with her constant petting and blatant disrespect, but Anastasia flying into a jealous rage over something so minor was unacceptable. Discretion was paramount for our little arrangement to work.
"That's a little hypocritical coming from you don't you think?" I asked in the most condescending tone I could muster.
She sat up straighter, the anger rolling off her body in waves. It took a moment before she composed herself enough to speak, oh but did she ever. The anger morphed into something akin to spite. How does the saying go, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
"If I'm such a slut, then why even bother with me? Why risk your job to fuck me every chance you get?"
I smirked in amazed disbelief. She knew full well what she just did, what the consequences of her words could be, but the woman had balls. She was looking for a reaction, but I refused to give her the satisfaction. I didn't care, to be honest. I was amused and more than a little turned on by her attempt at verbal homicide.
"Because you take a dick like you were made for it. You're like a blow-up doll with temperature control."
"That's the only reason?" She asked looking up at me, her eyes narrow.
And because I'm an asshole I said, "yup."
"Well then if you're looking for someone a little more sentient than a blow-up doll with a warm cunt, maybe Dr. Kavanagh is the woman for you after all," she growled, her innocent façade cracked and the psycho bitch hiding behind that sweet little face shined through.
That was the fundamental difference between me and Anastasia. I felt nothing and she felt everything. "Maybe she is," I yawn, bored of our little back and forth.
"And maybe I'll request a transfer to Dr. Hyde."
The blood in my veins boiled as I stared at her, my jaw more ridged than my cock. This woman, sitting there, batting her too long lashes at me as if she were a fucking saint, had evoked my first emotional reaction in my thirty plus years on this planet. Jealousy and rage coursed through me like a current.
How do people live like that? If I had to deal with those feelings on a day to day basis, I'd be on death row. The only thing that kept me from going and strangling Hyde right then and there was the poorly concealed delight shining in her ice blue eyes. She thought she had won. She was wrong. I was going to fuck the smug smile right off her face.
"It's cute," I said, bending down, forcing her back onto the couch. "You think you're in control here. That you've somehow managed to take the upper hand, and now what, you're putting me in my place?" Tsk tsk. I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. My hand fisted into her long hair, and I yanked her head back roughly, licking her from the base of her neck and up her jaw, before whispering in her ear, "I run this center and I've got friends everywhere. That," I said pointing to camera the in corner, "is down for repair for the next three hours. I think that's enough time to teach you some manners, don't you?"
She gulped, her chest heaving up and down, her heart thumping wildly. "They'll notice I'm gone."
"They know you're here," I sneered. "You assaulted a member of the staff. Protocol dictates that you should be removed from our facility, but I convinced them to let me try to get through to you. Give me a couple of hours, I'll talk to her, we can't just give up on her, she needs us." I said, reciting the same words I used on the center director. The good thing about being a sociopath, is that you get really good at acting.
"What…what are you going to do to me?" she asked, panting. Her legs parted. The movement was slight, but it didn't escape my hungry gaze. She wanted it, under her anger and jealousy, she was starved, hungry for my cock, thirsty for my cum.
"Unbutton my pants, and take my dick out," I demanded, low and menacing. I was still pissed about the Hyde thing and annoyed by her temper tantrum in the lunch room. Fucking her in my office wasn't smart. Andrea was just outside the door and Anastasia was a screamer, but, she was also a squirter, so I took my chances.
In what seemed like one quick motion, she pulled down my pants, and the boxers beneath them and wrapped her slender fingers around my shaft. Looking up at me coolly she asked, "do you think Dr. Kavanagh sucks dick as well as I do?"
"I wouldn't know."
"You mean she hasn't gotten on her knees for you?" She flicked her tongue across the tip of my penis causing my hips to jerk towards her face. It was all I could do not to shove my cock down her throat until she choked. She liked to get it as rough as I liked to give it.
"I haven't fucked or sucked her or anyone else for the last two months," I admitted. I wanted to lie. I told myself I didn't because she had my dick in her hands, but I'm not so sure. I think it was more than that. It's why I got so pissed when she brought up Hyde's name. It's also why I felt a twinge of pride when she cracked the lunch tray across Kavanagh's skull.
"What about kissing?"
"You're supposed to be sucking," I reminded her.
"Is this mine?" she asked longingly, stroking her hand up and down my length. It was a question, but there was an edge to her voice. It sounded hopeful. That's why you aren't supposed to fuck patients. They get attached.
"For the next month," I told her, looking down to find her blue eye's staring back up at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her legs were spread, and as always her pussy greeted me, wet and swollen.
"What happens once I'm better?" she asked, sucking the tip of my dick into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed out creating a tight seal around the head, and she sucked so hard, it was as if she was trying to steal my soul.
"Shit," I said, yanking her head back. I thrusted my hips forward into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, and pulled out just as quickly. I was coated in her saliva. "I'm in control here," I reprimanded as she looked up at me with irritation.
"What happens next month when I walk out of this place?" she asked again, pulling her dress over her head. She was completely naked and completely out of her mind.
"Nothing happens. You go back to your life and I go back to mine."
"Hmm," she shook her head, gingerly rising to her feet. I let her pull the stained white sweater off my body, and watched as she finished undressing me. She ran her fingers down my stomach, tracing the v-shaped outline of my hip bone. My dick was hard as stone and twitching with impatience, but I let her explore. Our usual encounters were rushed and always fully clothed. My body was perfection, and she deserved to enjoy it, just once.
"Hyde has a dad bod," I said, grabbing a handful of her ass, unsure of where the fuck that even came from.
"He has a big dick, though."
"What the fuck did you just say?' I snapped, wrapping my hands around her throat. I walked her backwards to the desk until her ass hit the edge.
"I said," she croaked out, grinning like a lunatic, despite my grip on her throat, "he has a big dick."
"How the fuck do you know?"
"What does it matter?" she asked. "Blow-up doll, remember."
"I'm going to split you into two pieces," I growled, turning her body around, throwing her over my desk, and shoved two fingers inside of her soaking wet snatch. "Then I'm going to kill him and any other man who is unlucky enough to try to stick his dick in here."
Livid didn't even cover it. I wished I saw red because then, at least, I could try to control my rage, but I saw black. I was staring into the void. There was nothingness, silent, but for the sounds of Hyde grunting as he stuck his needle dick inside my beautiful little nympho.
"You're pretty possessive for a man who wants nothing to do with me after this month is over," she said grinding her hips down onto my hand. The rational side of my brain, knew what she was doing, but fuck rational, fuck Meadowbrook and fuck maintaining any sense of sanity. I slid my fingers out and pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand and with the other I smacked her hard on the ass.
She screamed out, "fuck," before turning her head towards the door.
"Did you fuck Hyde?" I asked, yanking her back by her hair. I needed to know. I didn't care how loud she was being and I wasn't going to stop spanking her until I got my answer.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
I hit her again, harder, "answer me."
She moaned, a look of pure bliss etched across her face. "Is that all you've got?"
I chuckled, the sound, dark, menacing. I'd met my equal in every way. I was chaos, she was violence, and together we made anarchy. "Oh baby," I murmured, "you haven't seen anything yet." I slammed my dick into her hard and without warning. Her body lurched forward and her legs begin to shake. My heavy hand falling hard on her ass, "how was that?"
"Again, please," she begged.
"Did you fuck Hyde?" I growled as I pulled out of her and slammed back inside, pouring every ounce of force and hatred I possessed into the movement.
"NO," she yelled out, knocking everything off the right side of my desk with a loud crash. "I haven't been with anyone else either."
The relief that I felt only served to fuel my anger. "You've been a bad girl." I growled, running my nails down her back, leaving a trail of pink lines in their wake. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Keep me," she moaned, grinding back against me.
I lean forward, my body covering hers, and I slipped my thumb into her mouth, "suck," I commanded, "get it nice and wet, baby." She did as she was told, slobbering on my thumb like it was a dicksicle. I pulled the digit from her mouth and smile at the trail of spittle hanging from her lip. My eyes dropped to her pink, round ass and I pressed my thumb up against her puckered opening, forcing it inside.
"Oh, my God," she mewled. With my thumb filling her ass, I pushed my dick in and out of her with slow, controlled motions. It was a punishment fuck. She wanted it hard and fast, so I gave it to her slow and steady.
I wrapped my other hand around the length of her hair, forming a makeshift ponytail, and pulled, forcing her back to arch. The angle ensured that with each stroke, my dick rubbed her g-spot. My nuts slammed into her ass with each thrust.
I could feel her muscles tighten, her body convulse, as the dragon fucked her over my desk, at my job, with my assistant an ear shot away, because she was a bad girl and she needed to be taught a lesson. I was trying to teach her what happens when you let your emotions get the best of you. I was trying to show her why it was important to keep calm and stay in control. I thought I was the untouchable king, and I reigned dominion over her body.
I see now that I was wrong. I was never in control. I see now that she was the mastermind this entire time. I was impulsive. I did things because I wanted to, with no regard for how it affects anyone else. I fucked her in my office because her pussy felt like nirvana and I don't feel bad about it.
I have no regrets, not even when my nosey bitch assistant reported that she heard a ruckus coming from my office. Not even when the orderlies came and took me away. Not even when she pretended to cry, and cuddle up to Hyde, like I was a monster and he was her savior, all the while smirking in triumph.
"It was a test and I failed. She was giving me one last chance. In her own twisted way, she was in love with me. She was asking me to choose. Anastasia orchestrated everything, the lunch room, everything. It was all a part of her plan to get me to pick her. She was pissed about Kate, but this whole thing blew up in my face because she found out about my wife."
"How do you know that?" Dr. Rodriguez asks, lifting his left leg, and crossing it over his right. God, I hated men who crossed their legs like women. I hated everything about these weekly sessions, with this expensive charlatan, but if I want to stay out of prison, I must spill my guts to this man who sits like he has a vagina between his legs.
"Because," I say, smiling, though nothing about losing my license, my wife and half of my inheritance with her, was funny. "the last thing she said to me as I pulled my dick from her throbbing cunt was, I hope your pretty blonde wife likes the taste of my pussy."
The End
