Asylum
Page 26
His name became common knowledge among the psychiatric community. His newfound position with another institution was the purpose for today’s hearing. If Dain could be declared as my conservator, and if I could be released from the suspicion of guilt in the murder of Emerson and Joe as a result of my insanity, Jeremy would be able to remove me from the asylum in order to continue treating me as a resident of the new institution.
“Based on the information we were able to gather from Ms. Sutton during the therapy sessions, it became clear that we were encountering a fragile cognitive foundation built upon repressed memories as a result of significant and repeated trauma throughout the course of her life. The subsequent brain injury suffered by Ms. Sutton as a result of the automobile collision that killed her parents further complicated matters and left her physicians at the time with a diagnosis of anterograde amnesia. I do not condemn those physicians for the diagnosis, as the symptomology was extremely similar to that of a person suffering from the disorder. Additionally, I believe that Ms. Sutton did have a passive form of amnesia that resolved prior to being institutionalized.”
“Are you saying that Ms. Sutton is no longer mentally deficient?”
“No sir. In fact, as a result of the continued therapy and events that occurred during her incarceration in Statham, it was discovered that Ms. Sutton suffers from a complex variety of disorders, the comorbid issues only serving to increase the severity of her dysfunction.”
“Can you tell the court the full spectrum of disorders you believe Ms. Sutton suffers?”
Here came the fun part. Jeremy was about to unleash a litany of disorders that, according the psychiatrists across the country, were barely considered possible or even probable.
“I believe that Ms. Sutton suffers from post traumatic stress disorder, depression, together with a form of dissociative fugue or possibly, dissociative identity disorder.”
“For the layman in the court, can you please explain the term ‘dissociative identity disorder’?”
“The layman in the courtroom might understand the antiquated term it used to go by: Multiple Personality Disorder.”
The judge’s eyes widened into large spheres. He glanced at me quickly, but even in that brief second I could hear what he was thinking: I was a lunatic.
The attorney fidgeted where he stood. “Are you telling the Court that Ms. Sutton believes she is other people? Does she go by different names, dress differently – act differently?”
Jeremy chuckled. “No. Although not well researched and understood, the disorder doesn’t always work the way Hollywood would lead you to believe. However, my basis for the diagnosis is a result of the facts of Ms. Sutton’s involvement in the death of Emerson Stone and Joe Hathaway during her incarceration. During both those events, and at a time when Ms. Sutton felt threatened by the staff members, she believed that she saw Mr. Harrison, whom she referred to as ‘The Hooded Man’. In the case of Emerson’s death, Ms. Sutton was unable to recall events, but claimed that his death was caused by the hooded man, when, in fact it was by Ms. Sutton’s hand that Emerson died. Dissociative Identity Disorder can be diagnosed when a patient has periods of blacking out, moments in their life where they cannot remember or explain their involvement. In Alex’ case, when she was frightened, she became her stalker and killed Emerson. However, and I must stress this: Ms. Sutton never took on the personality of Mr. Harrison. She never claimed to be him. She believed she saw him, and as a result, I’ve included the possibility that her condition is dissociative fugue, which would account for the periods where she could not explain her actions. We are still in a therapeutic process in order to determine which diagnosis is more accurate.”
“I see. Well, I’m not an expert in your field, Dr. Hutchins, so I’ll not argue with your opinions or findings. What is your recommendation regarding Ms. Sutton’s continued care. Also please explain to the court your opinion regarding Ms. Sutton’s expected prognosis.”
“I recommend continued therapy under my care. I’ll be resigning from my position at the Statham Institution and request that the Court allow me to move Ms. Sutton to the institution for which I will be acting as Directing Psychiatrist. It is my hope that with continued care, Ms. Sutton’s cognitive deficiencies will resolve and her function will be restored to a healthy and standard level.”
Clearing his throat, the judge asked, “Dr. Hutchins, if we were to allow you to take your patient with you, who will be seeing to the significant amount of money that remains in the trust fund established by her parents?”
Jeremy smiled. “Her conservator, if it is decided to be her brother, Dain Sutton, will continue to maintain the trust until such time as Ms. Sutton reaches the required age for the trust to mature. Once Ms. Sutton is able to resume a normal level of cognitive function, she will be dismissed from psychiatric care and will be granted complete access and control of the finances that have been set aside for her future.”
“Thank you, doctor.” The judge sat back in his chair and eyed the attorney for the state. “Are there any additional questions from the State?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Attorney for Ms. Sutton, do you have any questions to ask of Dr. Hutchins?”
Standing up again, my attorney smoothed his suit jacket into place. “No, Your Honor. I’m satisfied with the testimony already given.”
Turning to Jeremy, the judge directed, “You may step down, Dr. Hutchins.”
He moved like a dancer as he walked across the courtroom.
Squirming in my seat, I was hopeful that the judge would grant the motions filed by the State and agreed upon by my attorney. Although I was still considered a danger to myself and to others, I was no longer considered a cutthroat criminal that should be locked away and never heard from again. I was as much of a victim as Bobby and Chase. I felt vindicated, if for nothing more but for knowing that.
Jeremy took his seat on the bench behind me and I breathed in a deep breath hoping for even a whiff of the earthy and masculine smell of his cologne.
Sitting up and placing his elbows on the desk in front of him, the Judge looked between the attorneys in the room.
“Since there is no objection to the recommendation of Dr. Hutchins by either the State or Ms. Sutton’s counsel, I’m going to grant the Motion for Conservatorship and assign all the rights and duties of that position to Dain Sutton. In addition, as Ms. Sutton has been cleared from all criminal behavior due to the recent discovery of information concerning Jay Harrison. As such, I see no reason for her to remain incarcerated in the Statham Institution. The Court will hold jurisdiction when it comes to Ms. Sutton’s welfare, however I feel comfortable leaving decisions regarding her ongoing care in the hands of Mr. Sutton and Dr. Hutchins. Court is adjourned.”
A quick bang of the gavel and my heart jumped into my throat, pushed up by the happiness that flooded my body and thrummed in my veins.
I was finally free.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched –
they must be felt with the heart."
- Helen Keller
My hands were bound above my head, the padded leather restraints wrapping my wrists were hooked to an o-ring in the ceiling of the therapy room. My body was completely bare, not a stitch of clothing to cover me from the eyes of the doctor who leaned casually against a wall.
The room was freezing, the lights still flashing above our heads because the State wouldn’t grant the institution enough funds to hire a competent electrician. Jeremy looked up from his notepad, allowing his eyes to move slowly over my body, pretending to take notes when his gaze reached my breasts and other intimate areas. I loved being exposed to him, loved the feeling of helplessness being bound in this manner created inside me.
“Do you see any person in this room besides me?”
“No, doctor.”
After placing his notepad on a table beside him, he looked me up and down onc
e more. Slipping off his white jacket, he placed it on the table and I delighted in the way his body looked beneath the tight black t-shirt he had tucked into slate grey slacks. His wire-rimmed glasses were covering his eyes and his dark brown, wavy hair had grown just long enough to dust the tops of his broad shoulders.
A strong chest angled down into a thin waist, sitting atop slender hips that led to thick, strong legs. He was perfection, his intelligence and honor worn like a second skin, further accenting the masculine beauty of his face and body.
My breasts tightened in response to the cold in the room and the heat that stirred inside me when I imagined what I would find beneath the stylish cut of his clothes.
“Are you frightened, little girl?” He smiled and a dimple indented his cheek.
My thighs clenched in response to the sultry, dark quality of his voice.
“Yes, doctor.”
Pushing off the wall and stepping forward, he approached me, stopping just before he was close enough to brush his body up against mine. Slowly he circled, pretending to examine every part of me. I trembled, attempting to keep my eyes on him as he moved, but losing sight of when he was standing behind me. The tip of his finger trailed along the seam in my ass. I jumped and he scolded.
“Stop moving, Ms. Sutton. Therapy won’t work if you don’t submit…” He leaned into me placing his lips next to my ear and letting them tickle the rim. “…to my every demand.”
Shivers ran over my body, my skin prickling in anticipation of his touch.
“I’ve been reviewing your most recent behavior reports, Ms. Sutton, and I’m not pleased with your bouts of insubordination.” His hand slapped my ass and the sting echoed through my body, pooling wetness between my legs and causing my breath to shudder out of my lungs.
“I’m not sure I can recommend that you be released from my care, not until you learn to control your…urges.” His mouth was against the back of my neck, his hands coming around to massage the nipples of my breasts into tight and aching tips.
“I believe we’ll need to come up with a way for you to make up for your transgressions.”
“Be gentle, doctor.” I could barely talk, the words coming out broken and breathless.
“Oh, Ms. Sutton, I would be doing you a huge disservice if I were gentle.” Teeth scraped along the skin of my neck and shoulder and I stuttered out a weak, and barely discernible response.
“Yes, doctor. You’re the expert.”
His hands gripped the cheeks of my ass, his mouth against my ear once again. “Your correct about that, Ms. Sutton.” Creeping fingers trailed along my hips, moving down to the base of my stomach, teasing me as they inched farther below before pulling away from my body entirely.
“Please, doctor.”
“Patience, Ms. Sutton. All good things come to those who shut their pretty, little mouths.”
I felt the soft, silk cloth against my lips and opened my mouth like a good girl, allowing him to pull it between my teeth before tying the cloth behind my head.
“That’s better. I was growing tired of your filthy tongue.”
There were things I wanted to do to him with my tongue, but that would be saved for another time. I loved to taste him, to take him between my lips and purr with pleasure when he moaned with satisfaction above me.
“I almost forgot…” The seduction in his voice had me weak at the knees and I was happy for the restraints that held me up and exposed me to his eyes and hands.
Another silk tie wrapped over my eyes, the black cloth blocking out the flashing lights, sheltering me from the room. I loved when he blindfolded me. It was in these moments that I could pretend we were no longer doctor and patient. I could pretend that enough time had passed that I was no longer considered insane.
“Now that we’ve ensured you won’t be seeing any scary men in the room, I feel like we can get started. I’ll have to unhook one of your arms for only a moment, but don’t think for a moment that I’ll be setting you free. If you struggle against me, Ms. Sutton, I’ll have to use a chemical method of restraint.”
It was so wrong, so terribly wrong that we’d discovered a nice side effect of the medications he used during my therapy. I’d become an addict, not the type whose body hurt when she didn’t have what she craved, but the type who couldn’t stop thinking about what a small dose of the drug could do for me.
His warm fingers slipped up my arms, barely grazing the skin before unbuckling the cuff on my left wrist. Lowering my arm, he traced circles over the crick with his thumb, priming the vein for a small prick. Playing along with his game, I attempted to pull away and his hand gripped tighter, keeping my arm extending and holding my in place.
“Tsk, tsk. I’m going to have to use two separate methods of control with you apparently. You will never learn to submit, will you?”
I shook my head from side to side, biting down on the silk and readying myself for the prick of the needle. The rubber strip tourniquet squeezed over my upper arm and the quick pinch signaled the beginning of a euphoric wave. He released the rubber strip and my body went limp in response to the drug quickly coursing its way through my veins.
“There now, that should keep you under control.” Lifting my arm back to buckle it back into the restraint, he chuckled.
The tip of his finger ran along the inside of my arm, down my torso, barely touching the side of my breast, and stopped just above my bellybutton. My muscles trembled, my head falling back from the effects of the drugs running through me. I felt soft and warm, tingly and sensitive to the lightest touch.
He always moved so aggravatingly slow. Taking his time, he refused to let me rush him along, never giving me even the slightest bit of control. He was the doctor and I was the patient – helpless to his will and vulnerable to his every whim.
Perfect warm lips closed over the tip of my right breast and his slick tongue peeked out to lick along the nipple before his teeth clamped down forcing a tremor through my body. Pulling away he kissed away the sting before moving to my left breast to do it again.
He was gone, lost to me in the cold space of the room, watching me with molten sapphire eyes. My skin hummed with the need to be touched and my lungs labored to draw in a full breath.
Fingers tickling behind my knees and I knew he was kneeling down in front of me. Pushing up on my toes, I allowed my legs to fall apart, silently begging him to taste my body. Smoothing his palms up the sides of my thighs he forced my legs back together and I groaned in complaint, thinking he would deny me the heat of his mouth. Like the good patient that I was, I held the position he forced me to take and melted when I felt his finger slide within the slickened skin between my legs, back and forth until he pushed just the tip of that finger up inside me. I cried out around the silk gag, not able to keep still where I stood.
His finger pushed deep inside me at the same time that his mouth closed over my clit. Teeth lightly bit down on the sensitive nerve and his tongue flicked out to lick the hurt away. I almost came right at that moment.
Still kissing the most intimate of my parts, he pushed a second finger inside, spreading them just enough to slip along the walls of my opening, stretching the muscles just enough to make me writhe over his hand. My hips rotated over his fingers, essentially fucking his hand.
He pulled away suddenly and I felt like I would cry. Seconds passed – possibly minutes – and I was bathed in darkness and gut-wrenching silence.
Hands gripped my ankles, pulling my legs apart only slightly, before planting my feet where he wanted them. Slowly those hands smoothed up my legs, his thumbs trailing the insides of his thighs, squeezing every so often and causing me to jump. His palms moved over the swell of my ass, the fingers reaching around my hips to hold me in place. Slowly lifting me up, he pulled me to a point where my toes barely scraped the floors and I felt the tip of his cock pushing up against my core.
“I think I’ll take you from behind. You know how in love I am with watching your fine, little ass.”
Lifting me even higher, he pulled me up until my feet were no longer touching the floor and sheathed himself inside me. With only his hands gripping my hips, he moved my body over his length, building the orgasm inside me, only to slow down again and let the heat simmer back to a slow boil.
He was an expert at pushing me to a point of no return, delivering me to a place where I was floating on clouds, where nothing could touch me except for his masterful hands. I was his – wholly and entirely – completely captive to everything about him: his voice, his looks, his thoughts and desires. I was his. An instrument of pleasure, a woman who would one day be his wife.
I laughed when a frustrated growl broke free of him. He needed more of me, needed to feel my skin against his, my legs wrapping possessively around his hips as he took me. He released my hands from the o-ring in the ceiling, but never removed the restraints. Control was never something he was willing to relinquish.
And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Throwing me down onto a soft mattress, he climbed on top of me, using his legs to spread mine far apart. With one hand, he pinned my arms above my head and with the other, he ripped the gag from my mouth to cover my lips with his own. His tongue dipped in to slip along mine as his cock forced itself inside my body.