The Right Treatment Read online

  Aoife spent three days in the hospital before they evicted her for a more needy case. In that time, Matt had been in and out several times every day, lecturing her on the damage she was doing to her body. He harped on and on until he was blue in the face—he even managed to make her father seem like a pussy cat, which was quite an achievement. But at least Matt didn’t put her down—he talked about her stupid choices, not about how bad a person she was. And how she had the ability to take back control, as long as she wanted to. Had her parents known what was going on, she would be forcibly dragged back home to listen to a catalogue of how she had been screwing up her life from the age of four and all that without one constructive piece of advice or help. Matt had saved her from that at least by not calling her parents. In return, she could put on her attentive face, pretend to listen, and let it all go in one ear and out the other, both with him and the damn psychiatrist. Aoife knew she had no problems; she was just unlucky to get a bad E.

  “You are not to take any drugs without clearing it with me first. Nothing. Not even an aspirin or a beer. Is that clear? You have my pager, I won’t keep you waiting any longer than is strictly necessary. And I’ll call to check up on you daily,” Matt warned on Wednesday before discharging her.

  “What about my antidepressants and sleeping pills that the shrink prescribed?”

  “That’s Dr. Smith to you. Fiona has control of them; she will dole them out until you learn to be more responsible.”

  “I’m not a child!”

  “Then stop acting like one. You should consider yourself lucky Fiona is even agreeing to look after you after all that has happened. Frankly, if it was me, I would start by giving you a damn good spanking for your past behaviour, before moving on to discussing how I expected you to behave in the future.”

  Aoife bit her tongue, outraged at his suggestion. And yet, Aoife knew he had a point—her behaviour towards Fiona was unforgivable. To go off with her ex was stooping below even what Aoife thought was acceptable. It was different for her, she had never had a relationship to speak of, but Brian had been Fiona’s first love. She was totally ashamed of herself.

  The first three days passed without event. She let on to be playing by the rules and following orders. Sure, Aoife was having trouble sleeping, but somehow she got through it. She was still a shadow of her former self though, and she knew it. Every time she looked in the mirror, a ghost of a person stared back at her. Her weight was still way down from her ordeal, her skin tone pasty and grey. Her once glossy, shiny black hair was now limp and lacklustre. Her eyes were dull and surrounded by dark circles, sunken into her pale face, like a panda in reverse. It might have helped if she could summon up the energy to shower and wash her hair, but that seemed like an impossible feat to her defeated spirit. Although Matt had instructed that she needed at least half an hour of gentle exercise every day, Aoife couldn’t bring herself to leave the house, so she lied, assuring him she was going to the local park every day.

  Matt called to her apartment religiously, either going on or coming off his shift. More often than not, Aoife pretended to be asleep while he and Fiona stood at the door and talked about her. Fiona would give him a rundown on her mood and behaviour, not holding anything back even though Aoife was right there, albeit supposedly sleeping, and had threatened all sorts of heinous things, like killing herself or disappearing to somewhere no one would find her if Fiona told tales. Aoife knew Fiona felt responsible for her, but nobody asked her to be a babysitter. She should butt out and mind her own fecking business, and let Aoife get on with her own life. She was fine.

  The first big argument with Fiona started over dinner; Aoife had refused to eat. She couldn’t—she hadn’t had a bowel movement since leaving the hospital and she was in agony. She was still in her nightclothes at dinner time and after Fiona had a go at her about not eating, her attention was drawn to the nightdress.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?? Did you not take your walk?”

  “Um, I did, I just couldn’t find anything clean clothes so I just put on a fresh nightie,” Aoife mumbled.

  “That’s bullshit, you’ve a wardrobe full of clothes. You haven’t been outside the door. Matt’s going to hear about this. What time did you go out yesterday?”

  “I don’t know, am I supposed to keep a record? Sometime in the morning.”

  “You told me it was just before I got home, and you had a shower and just got into fresh a fresh nightie. You didn’t go out then either, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. What’s it to you? You’re not my bloody mother,” Aoife snapped. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she had regretted them. Up until that, it had only been conjecture, and Aoife could have denied all.

  “What’s it to me? That’s rich. I’m the one that has to live with your antics. It’s time you started thinking about other people, Aoife.”

  The dreaded knock came at seven and Aoife knew there was going to be trouble. Matt hadn’t even taken his jacket off before Fiona had told everything. And the silly cow was loving it, in Aoife’s opinion. It was obvious as hell she had the hots for Matt. She loved him being around, and acted like his little lackey, drilling Aoife into shape for him. She made Aoife want to vomit for being so susceptible to his charms. He was only Matt McDaid, for God’s sake. Yeah, he was hot, but he was still only a man.

  “I couldn’t go out, I had a tummy ache,” Aoife explained.

  “Go lie on the bed and I’ll check you over,” Matt replied.

  Aoife opened her mouth to object, but quickly changed her mind. His grey eyes were boring into her like a dentist’s drill, daring her to defy. She recalled his threat of spanking her and meekly tottered off, afraid to put him to the test. He followed her down within minutes. Matt hoisted her nightdress up. He palpated her tummy and she winced. He pressed harder, moving his hand further up. “No wonder you have a tummy ache, you’re all backed up.”

  Had he any idea how humiliating it was for her to have to discuss her bowel motions with him? Every time he came near her, it seemed that she sank lower and lower. When they were growing up together, she never saw this day coming. If she had, she would have done everything in her power to keep him at a distance. He picked up the notebook he’d made her keep from beside her bed. She had marked down fictitious bowel movements and exercise every day including today; he was sure to know she was lying now. Inwardly, she died a death, waiting for him to go through each and every fabrication. She could see his mouth pinch more and more as his eyes scanned up in reverse through the falsehoods. It was like being in trouble with her father, waiting for the explosion. Thankfully, it never came, but the look on his face, the disappointment, the sadness, that was worse than a thousand lectures. She almost would have preferred if he spanked her, if it meant that look would go.

  “Have you taken anything for this?” Matt asked, obviously ignoring the lies she had written about meds.

  “Dulcolax, last night and this morning,” she admitted, knowing full well that she had neither recorded it, nor sought his permission. She braced herself for the lecture, and was pleasantly surprised only to be asked how many although the furrow between his eyes deepened further.

  “Two last night and when nothing happened, I took another one this morning.”

  “And still no movement?” he asked. Aoife shook her head.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back,” Matt said.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Yes, very. But right now I’m more concerned with making you comfortable than anything else. The rest can wait.” At that he left. When he returned he had his medical bag. “Have you an en suite, or is it a shared bathroom?”

  Aoife pointed to a door in her bedroom.

  “Good, that means I can do it on your bed.”

  Do what? She wanted to scream. He disappeared into the small bathroom, and she heard the sink fill. He returned with a couple of towels. “Take your panties off and slip these towels underneath your bottom. I am
going to give you an enema; it will make you more comfortable.”

  He pulled some tubing out of his bag and Aoife felt her heart beating faster in her chest. He was nuts if he thought she was going to let him administer an enema. The boy next door who she had a) had a crush on and b) saved from bullies was planning on sticking a tube up her bottom… no bloody way. The indignity!

  “No, you can’t do that to me, Matt. Please,” she begged, biting back the tears that threatened to spring.

  “Don’t be such a baby. Do you think yours is the first bare behind I have seen? It will be over in a few minutes and you’ll feel much better.”

  “No! I’ll go to my usual doctor tomorrow. I promise. Or I’ll go to the hospital. Have you any idea how horrible this is for me?”

  “Stop it. Now. You need this and I am doing it. Either that or I bring you straight to casualty, where I am going on duty and will end up doing it anyway.”

  He went to the bathroom, returning with a bag of liquid, dripping moisture from the outside.

  Somehow, in spite of her conscious resistance, her body was obeying his instructions and Aoife had her panties down almost unknown to herself. On autopilot, she took the proffered towels and laid them out underneath her. She watched mesmerised and mortified as he applied petroleum jelly to one end of the tube with a sort of a morbid fascination. As his fingers smeared the thick gel, she couldn’t help but think where it was going next. Her whole bottom region clenched and tightened as she began to anticipate the horror of what was about to ensue. God help her, but every instinct in her made her want to scream and run. She fought her flight mode with deep breaths, trying to assuage the panic that was rising within her.

  “Lie down and face the wall, Aoife. Come on, good girl. I’ve warmed the saline solution a little in the wash basin so that should make it more comfortable.”

  What was it with the ‘good girl’ that made her obey? Maybe she was sick of being the black sheep. But those magic words forced her to comply. With her back now to him, Aoife was relying on sound and feel. Loss of the ability to see just added to her anxiety. She stiffened as she heard the snap of the latex gloves. Then his finger was touching her there. On her bottom hole. Her body tensed tight and she felt fit to explode. It just was not right having Matt McDaid’s finger there…

  “It’s okay. Just try to relax. It’s a tiny little tube, slimmer than a suppository,” he talked her through it as he lubricated her tight little passage. Aoife let out a small involuntary whimper. She was sure he didn’t need to probe about there so much with his finger, did he? She squirmed, not quite sure if it was humiliation or arousal that had her heart pounding in her ribs like that. To her ears, it sounded so loud. Would he notice it? Would he realise she was getting off on it? How much could a person take?

  “It’s just a little petroleum jelly so the tube will slip in easily. Am I hurting you?” he asked.

  “Not much,” she admitted. It wasn’t pain that was bothering her, just indignity. Matt was the boy next door, for Christ’s sake! This was mortifying. She hoped she was imagining the dampness she was beginning to feel in her private parts, in spite of—or because of—her horror.

  She felt him push in the tube. Her bottom automatically tried to resist. His latexed hand rubbed her back for a moment or two as he tried to soothe her. She tried to forget that Matt McDaid was behind the invasion and closed her eyes, shutting the awful visual of him out. Once she felt herself relax, she became aware the tube being pushed again. Aoife had to admit, he was gentle and slow, trying to make it easy for her. He was being far more compassionate than she felt she deserved. Finally he seemed satisfied that it was in place. To her shame, Aoife could feel a hateful yet delicious clenching in her pussy. She prayed there were no tell-tale signs of her involuntary arousal as she kept her eyes screwed tight, pretending it wasn’t happening.

  “You’re going to feel some liquid soon. It’s just a saltwater solution, but I promise, it will work wonders, especially on top of the Dulcolax. You’ll be right as rain after this.” He blabbed away about nothing for a few minutes, trying to distract her as the solution started seeping into her rectum. Actually, Aoife wished he’d shut the fuck up and let her forget about him. Initially, it was quite a pleasant sensation, or might have been if Matt wasn’t the one administering it… the slight coolness contrasting with the heat of her body. She was trying to go with the flow and block him from her mind, but he was talking about the last movie he’d been to. She understood he was trying to put her at ease, but she was silently screaming for him to be quiet when she started to feel the urge to evacuate.

  “I need to go now, Matt,” Aoife said. She couldn’t bear the thought of soiling herself in front of him; she’d had more than enough humiliation for one night.

  “Not just yet. It’s a temporary feeling. You haven’t taken enough for it to work properly. I’ll shut it off for a moment until you get used to it. Switch over onto your back.”

  Aoife did as she was ordered, still screwing her eyes tightly shut, and he hoisted her knees up. He rubbed her tummy in small circular motions. Such an intimate touch. Was there no end to what she had to endure? Even through the latex gloves, it felt good. In spite of herself, she wondered what his bare hand, his skin on her skin, would feel like. Would his hands be pen-pusher soft? She could sense they were strong, muscular, but would they feel rough or smooth? Distracted by her thoughts rather than his chitter chatter, she could feel the urgency ease until the need to go was gone completely.

  “Okay, let’s try the next bit lying like this,” he said. She was fully aware that if there were any visual signs of her weird excitement at the procedure, he couldn’t miss them from that angle. Her face felt hot and a cool sweat started to break on her body. To make matters worse, there was a trickle down between the cheeks of her bum and she knew it was the solution. That mortified her and she tried to shift position.

  “Don’t worry, it’s only a tiny drop, you won’t soil your bed,” he reassured her. Shut up, shut up, she wanted to shout. Every time he spoke it reminded her who was in the driving seat. The liquid itself was definitely easier to take in that position, especially as he continued to massage her lower abdomen. She dared to sneak a peep at the bag; it was only half empty and a little groan escaped her lips.

  “We won’t use it all tonight, you’re too backed up. Just enough to get you started, okay?” he promised, as if reading the panic in her brain. About five minutes later, he shut it off, just as she was getting totally full again.

  “It’s stopped going in. You need to try to hold it a little while,” he told her. His conversation turned to what he was reading. The distraction technique wasn’t working though. He couldn’t make her forget she was very tentatively holding on to a half a bag of saline and she wasn’t hearing a word he said. The urge to use the toilet was screaming from her brain. But even at that, there was this insane excitement in her girly bits. Aoife wanted to either run or die. Finally he allowed her go to the bathroom.

  “I’ll wait in the living room for a little bit to make sure you’re all right, but then I need to go to work,” he volunteered just as she was about to tell him to get the fuck out and give her some privacy.

  Matt couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, his mind a battleground of conflicting thoughts. Initially, while reading the journal, he had been so damn mad, he wanted to blister her backside for her. She was one whole living lie. He could barely contain himself to actually act like a responsible doctor and relieve her discomfort. He almost felt it was her just deserts. Her own heedless behaviour had contributed to her discomfort. But then when she started to respond sexually to a medical procedure, it blew him through the roof. Never, ever did he imagine he would get off on administering an enema, or any procedure for that matter. It was unethical. But try telling that to John Thomas in his trousers who was bulging out, begging for attention. The minute he had seen Aoife creaming up—no, what a lie, the minute he had laid eyes on her again in that hospi
tal bed—his professionalism deserted him. He had never considered such a procedure erotic, but here he was, balls fit to burst. Matt’s first port of call after leaving the bedroom was the bathroom down the hall; he would have to deal with this thing before he joined Fiona. Matt was not impressed with his behaviour. Nor did he understand it. He had given enemas to attractive women before, but he’d never ended up with a boner. Aoife Devine was messing with his head, making him forget himself.

  He tried to think of something else, anything, to make his frisky friend shrivel up, but all to no avail. If anything, he got harder. In the end he had no choice; he masturbated in the guest bathroom of Aoife Devine’s house. It was obvious that their doctor–patient relationship was untenable. He would have to pass her over to a colleague. For both his sake and hers.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Matt,” Fiona announced as he joined her on the settee. “She has no idea what she is doing to herself. It’s the same weekend after weekend. She has just been lucky up ‘til now.”

  “So what are you saying exactly?” Matt asked. Even though he understood that to some extent, Fiona’s protection enabled Aoife’s recklessness, he still couldn’t bear to think what would become of her if she went out on her own, living in a bedsit with faceless, nameless neighbours. And yet her decision was not any different to the one he had just made, even if the reasons were. They were both abandoning her. He really wished there was a real live boot camp (like those in his imagination every Saturday night as he treated the aftereffects of drugs), somewhere he could send Aoife where she would be safe from herself, then when she had come to her senses, she could be replanted into a normal life. The life she couldn’t seem to handle right now.