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.
