Chapter 22 #2
My lips curl before I can stop them. My cock turns so hard, it aches. I scan the street again but can't see her, so I finally turn and go into the bedroom, turning on the light so she can see me, knowing she's watching me even if I can't see her. I go straight to the nightstand and pull it open.
Inside, there's an identical envelope. This one has red lip marks on it.
I grin, with my pulse steadying instead of racing. The anticipation feels organized now, arranged with care, like she's already decided how this ends and is letting me discover it in stages.
"Careful, Blue," I murmur to the empty room, voice low and unrecognizable. "If you keep leaving breadcrumbs like this, you don't get to act surprised when I decide to follow you all the way into the dark."
A chirp dings.
I glance at my phone.
Blue: Open it, Dr. Mercer. I'm waiting.
Before I can think, I text back.
Me: You're not in control, Blue. I am.
Blue: Whatever you say, Dr. Mercer. Feel free to take your time. I like watching you exhibit restraint.
She is watching me!
I try to ground myself, breathing a few times, then sit on the edge of the bed. The envelope is heavier than paper should be. I unclasp the back and pull out a new photo, swallowing hard.
Blue's in her white lingerie. Red Owns Me is written in lipstick across her stomach with an arrow pointed at her pussy.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I mutter, with heat barreling so fast inside me that the red lipstick turns fuzzy.
Chirp!
My jaw ticks. I glance at my phone.
Blue: I can't stop thinking about how you looked.
My jaw tightens. I don't respond. Silence is still a tool. I set the envelope on the mattress and sit back against the headboard, unable to tear my eyes off the photo.
She's mine.
I own her.
The thought is wrong. It's sick, twisted, and I know better. Yet I can't stop the feeling of victory from flooding me.
Chirp.
Blue: I keep replaying it.
Blue: Say something, Dr. Mercer.
I take shallow breaths, salivating over the photo until another chirp fills the air.
Blue: I keep imagining you filling every hole of me with your cum just like you filled my mouth today.
I inhale slowly, through my nose, and let it out just as slowly. The room feels smaller, as if the walls have edged closer while I wasn't looking.
A moment of sanity hits me. I remember my morals.
Me: This isn't appropriate.
It might be true, but it's also another lie. We crossed the inappropriate line a long time ago.
Blue's mine. So all her thoughts and desires can't be wrong.
Her response is like she can read my mind.
Blue: Yes, it is, Dr. Mercer. It's your job to get inside my head.
She's right. It would be inappropriate not to explore all her thoughts, I tell myself, physically feeling something I can't explain morph inside me.
No. This is twisted.
A debate takes place in my head. It's the same one I've already had, only this time, the devil is winning.
I stand, pace, then stop. The mirror across the room catches me mid-movement.
I look alert and focused, and it scares me.
A professional with the thoughts I'm having should appear disheveled and out of control, not the opposite.
Chirp.
I grab my phone.
Blue: I want one back.
Me: One what?
Blue: A photo.
Me: You're testing me.
Blue: You taught me how.
That one hits harder than anything else she's sent tonight. I grip the edge of the dresser, knuckles whitening, and close my eyes for a count of three.
Me: This ends here.
The three dots appear again. This time they linger.
Blue: No.
A pause.
Blue: You own me, Red. Now send me a photo, Dr. Mercer. I want to see that beautiful cock that was pumping hard in my mouth today.
My dick throbs in my pants.
Blue: Stand in front of the window and take it. I want to watch.
A sharp, dizzying rush floods my system, pushing everything too close to the edge and making the world feel dangerously bright.
My phone rings. I press the button, step in front of the window, and say nothing.
Blue breathlessly begs, "I need it, Dr. Mercer."
I fill my lungs with as much air as possible, then slowly release it.
She continues, "Ask me why I want a photo of your cock, Red."
My gaze darts, then freezes on the electric-blue hair with red streaks glowing under the streetlamp.
"Ask me, Dr. Mercer," she taunts.
My voice comes out gravelly. "Why do you want it?"
"I want to imagine you pushing inside of me for the first time."
My groan rolls out of me before I can stop it.
She looks up, and even at a distance, I can see her pupils blown wide, swallowing color, leaving only black intent behind. She pleads, "Send me something."
It's more fuel for my high. I lean into the devil, asserting, "I'm in charge, Bluebird. Not you. And when I push into you, whatever you imagine isn't going to come close to what it feels like."
"Oh, God," she breathes, and grips the lamppost. Her hand trembles against the metal.
Something cruel blooms in my gut, surprising me, but also egging me further. "Goodnight, Blue." I hang up and step back from the window.
A chirp fills the air before I can sit. A photo pops up of her bare, glistening pussy. Her fingers V across the lips.
Blue: I need the photo, Red. I need to imagine it inside me, wondering how you're going to stretch me enough to take all of you. Please. I have to have it.
There's a flash of satisfaction that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with control, and it scares me how clean it feels.
Me: Careful, Blue. Anticipation is only fun until someone else decides when it ends.
Blue: I know. That's why I'm still here.
Sweat pops out on my skin. I take off my shirt and pants, carefully laying them over the back of my armchair. I walk to the window in only my boxers, staring down at her, knowing she's unhinged and that her mania is directed at me, yet drowning deeper in the approval of it.
The phone rings.
I answer silently again, not taking my eyes off my little stalker.
"I never made or sent photos of me like that to Brax," she blurts out.
Brax.
A darker instinct unfurls in my chest, patient and pleased, like it's been waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.
I warn, "You set your sights on a man this time, Blue.
You should have stuck with Brax. When I take you, it won't be because you offered.
It'll be because you understood exactly what you were provoking and you decided you wanted the consequences. "
"Yes, Dr. Mercer," she breathes, gripping the post so tight her knuckles are white even from the distance.
"Go home, Blue. That's an order," I state, then hang up. I turn and slide into bed, studying the photo she put in my nightstand and the one of her pussy she texted me, until my obsession turns as raw as hers.
My dick pops past the slit of my boxers, and I finally allow myself to touch it, rubbing the pre-cum over the tip.
A chirp hits my ears.
Blue: I'm home and naked in bed. I told my parents they have to come to therapy today because you wanted me to.
All the thoughts I had earlier about therapy with Blue and her parents resurface. I slide my hand over my shaft and close my eyes, thinking about my Bluebird working through years of pent-up feelings she never learned how to handle.
Chirp.
Blue: I'm going to cancel it if you don't send me what I need.
My cock twitches, and panic hits. I'm past every ethical and moral boundary I ever put up. I'm the last therapist who should be having any sessions with Blue or her parents.
I can still help her.
This is wrong.
Blue: I thought you wanted to help me?
I rub my cock a few more times, smear more pre-cum over the cap, snap a photo of it, then send it to her.
A voice clip comes back. Her voice shakes with excitement. "Now send me a video of you cumming, Dr. Mercer. I need to see what it'll be like with you pumping inside me, trying to split me wide open."
"You dirty little Bluebird," I mutter.
Before I know it, I switch my camera to video, position it on my cock, and stare at the photo she left me while giving her exactly what she wants.