She took my hand in hers and folded my ring finger in and my pinky, pointer, and middle fingers out, before lubing the three stuck-out fingers. She rested my arm on the desk and reminded me to hold still. She stood up on the desk and gave me a little striptease – of course she only had a couple garments left to remove, but the motions were still sensuous. She squatted over my arm which I'd been obediently holding still, and she slowly, slowly lowered her ass onto my pinky, the finger pushing into her rosebud and popping in, making her squeal a little. She bounced on that finger for a moment before doing the same to my pointer and middle fingers, shoving both into her ass at the same time, lubing her up. She popped her ass off my fingers and crawled onto me in the chair, her back to my chest. I could feel her against my tits and she felt good there. I briefly wondered what she'd do if she knew the truth but that question got answered by her lowering herself onto my cock. This time, I. He smiled as he considered the potential side benefits to his experiment.Jenny slumped in the ward's lounge, looking at nothing in particular. Other patients shuffled around, mumbled to themselves, or just paced. Many just sat, like her.She was 23 and a hopeless case. Treatment-resistant depression. She had been tried on twenty-odd different medications. They had zapped her brain with ECT. None of it did any good. She had tried to kill herself three times, and the last time had come pretty close. She mused about how she could really pull it off the next time they let her out.Time for her case conference. Every Thursday at 2:30. After the usual drivel about her diet and physical condition and mental assessment and how well she did with the OT (pathetic "play" for grown-ups), there was something new. Her psychiatrist Dr. Bernstein said a colleague wanted to meet with the two of them privately."Hello, Jennifer, I hope you are no worse than usual today?" asked Dr. Bernstein. She had to.
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