Therapy: Chapter 2

9 min read

photo: MetArt X

More boundaries tested in our session with Emily.

I have almost as much fun with her between sessions as during. Of course, I completely screw with her. I cancel my next appointment, or need to change at the last minute, anything to keep her off balance. And when I’m not doing that, I’m contemplating what’s going on in her head, and loving every minute of it. Her voice alone is worth the price of admission.

I feel a little bad, because I’m certainly enjoying this more than she is. But not too bad. And I don’t want to push her too far. I don’t want her angry. I want her desperate. Desperation is where I’ll know what she wants, how she relates. Is there shame, pride? Is there resistance, surrender? Fuck, but I love this too much.

Emily, good girl that she is, arrives right on time. Her dress is a swishy little number, tight around her wispy frame, but it shows her lines and curves delightfully; it also matches her purple hair. Her black pumps give her just enough height, too, but still an inch or two shorter than the good doctor.

I go in first, primarily because I want to see Doctor Sandra’s reaction. First, her eyes snap right to the tube I keep my toys in, but then Emily comes in. There’s a lot of control in the Doctor’s reaction, but her eyes wander up and down more than once. Emily is also a very pretty girl, distinctively so. I’m feeling slightly ignored, but in a funny way.

“Doctor, this is my partner, Emily. Emily, this is Doctor Sandra.”

Hey, I’m not rude.

“Do people really call you that?” Emily asks as the two shake hands briefly.

“No, no, just him.”

“Of course. Just him. He loves coming up with pet names for interesting people.”

Emily’s smile is honest, but there’s some tiny response in Sandra’s lips due more to that than the implied intimacy of the exchange. I love watching.

Emily and I take seats on the sofa, and she inches very close to me. But that isn’t nerves. We’ve been apart far too long.

“Jonathan, you don’t mind if I ask Emily a few questions for a bit, do you?”

She so seldom uses my name it surprises me.

“No, please, go right ahead,” but I like that she asked permission. And I do think it was that.

“So, he’s told me about your relationship, and some of the things behind it, but I’d like your version of it.”

“You mean the power dynamic.”

“Yes, yes, that. He tells me he’s your Dom.”

“I guess he is, technically. But that word doesn’t give the flavor of it. It is more like I’m his slave.”

“That wasn’t a word I was expecting. His sexual slave?”

“Well, yes, but it is more than that. And please, Doctor Sandra, understand that this works because we know each other and trust each other. He’s never been, I suppose, mindlessly, or vindictively cruel. He owns me, and he takes that seriously.”

I am beaming with pride. And ego.

“And it isn’t just in the bedroom?”

“No. And I’m not, like, excluded from the decision making process. And I’m not running around all the time getting him a drink, or whatever. I’m a slave, not a servant. But he guides us, we discuss, we plan, we listen.”

“Like any healthy relationship.”

“Right, but, in my head, I’m always slightly deferring to his guidance. Does that make sense?”

“I think so. And it really isn’t very different than vanilla relationships, it is just formalized.”

She’d been doing reading, apparently.

“Yes! So, here’s an example. Today, knowing we’d be here, he told me what to wear. We normally text back and forth all day, but today, other than a few check ins, we didn’t. And we didn’t come here together. I came right from work. Do you want to know why?”

“Yes,” Doctor Sandra’s voice just above a whisper. Doctor Sandra is not stupid.

“Because he wanted me wanting. I love when he dresses me. He kept me wanting by denying contact all day. And he is STILL keeping me off-balance by not letting me see him before coming here. All of this is because it is how he wants things, and as important as that is to him, it’s even more important to me.”

Sandra does her best to let what Emily is saying slide. Her best isn’t very good, but she knows that nothing will happen during our session. She knows she has 41 more minutes to get through, and a painfully slow clock.

“So he toys with you? Mind games and such?”

“Yessss,” Emily does a little happy shudder. “That’s where it happens. Inside here, “ she taps her temple with a fingertip. “I’ve had people who were better at hurting me, who had rope skills, or how to use knives,” — she turns to me for a moment — “which you are absolutely going to learn this summer,” — then back to the doctor — “but no one has ever gotten in my head like he does. I’m with him because he may be my owner, but he deeply understands what it means to be owned. He knows what is going on inside me, and that makes me feel close to him, deeply controlled, and understood. It has never been like this, for me, before.”

She loves talking about us, and I can feel heat radiating off her bare arms. She uncrosses, and recrosses her legs. Sandra watches. Emily watches, and lets a pump dangle. Because she’s a good girl, and a wanting girl. And a little cruel in her own right.

There’s a long moment.

“So, so, uh, the pain. That’s part of it too, right?”

“Sort of. It is sometimes the expression of it, but, to be honest, I need pain to really enjoy sex. It’s fine without it, but it is really what I crave. I don’t know why, but I like it a lot. Even just a little makes me feel helpless. It helps me let go.”

Doctor Sandra nods.

“Did you like it, Doctor?”

Doctor Sandra nods.

“Did it help you let go?”

Doctor Sandra shakes her head no, just a bit.

“Of course not. It was your first time. Were you still all up in your head?”

Doctor Sandra nods.

Emily isn’t asking these questions for the same reasons I would. I ask them as a way of digging my fingers in, a way of confusing, enticing, making her vulnerable, getting myself into her head, making her want to surrender to me. Emily is asking them as a way of bonding, creating a safe intimacy, getting Doctor Sandra to choose to open up, to come to her, without surrender.

“Don’t worry. If it is something you really want, it will happen, I promise. Do you mind if I call you Doctor Sandra, too?”

Doctor Sandra is blushing, deeply.

“No,” very softly.

So it goes, for a very long session.

“That’s our time, Doctor Sandra.”

“Yes, Mister. It is.”

“Did you cancel your next appointment?”

She shakes her head ‘no’.


“I didn’t make any other appointments for today. In case you wanted to change times, or come early, or I didn’t…”

“Hush. It’s ok. Emily, take off those absurd heels and stand in the middle of the room, please.”

She does. I let that hang there. Her toes are wiggling a bit, digging into the carpet. It’s a thing she does when she gets nervous.

“Are you nervous, Little Thing?”

“Yes,” she nods emphatically.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m always nervous with you,” her head drops a bit.

“I don’t think you answered my question, Little Thing.”

“No, I’m sorry, Master, I didn’t. I’m nervous because I want this. Very badly. And sometimes you decide to deny me.”

“I do. Because it’s fun. And it makes the next time even more fun. Do you know why else I do it?”

“Yes. Because it shows me who I belong to.”

“Yes, because you fucking belong to me.”

I rise from the couch and move behind my Little Thing.

“Doctor Sandra, can you come here?”

She almost jumps at the chance. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but she’s too eager to worry.

I unzip the dress, and give it a bit of a yank, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath the pretty bralet and sheer panties, you can see faint, pink lines. I lean close to the Doctor’s ear.

“Do you recognize those, Doctor Sandra?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She reaches out to touch one with a fingertip.

Which is unacceptable.

I grab her wrist, quickly, and firmly. Not at all violent, but maybe a bit more firmly than she’d like.

“No. Who owns this Little Thing?”

She’s lost for a second.

“You do, Mister.”

“That’s right. This is my property. Do you touch other people’s property?”

“Not without permission.”

“No. You do not. Now, ask.”

She squirms a bit. There’s something strange about this, for her, something that is confusing her more than she’s already become used to. She’s off balance, and I like that, very much.

I realize what it is.

“Are you jealous, Doctor Sandra?”

I’ve made her blush many times, but never this deeply. Oh god I love this way too much.


I don’t like that answer.

“‘Yes what?”

“Yes, I am jealous, Mister.”


“Interesting. I thought you just wanted to learn, Doctor Sandra.”

“I do, Mister. I want to learn.”

“Then why are you jealous of a simple teaching aid? Think of my Emily as a textbook.”

“I don’t know why, Mister.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes. And it isn’t out of deference. Good. I like this, and don’t want to push. Not just yet.

“Hmpf. I’ll ask again, Doctor Sandra, do you want to touch my property?”

“Yes, Mister,” her eyes meet mine again. She’s nervous, but honest.

“Have you touched a woman like this?”

“No, Mister.”

“Silly hetero people. Always missing out,” I tease. “Just fingertips, between her shoulder blades. Tell me what you feel.”

She does. I watch as her fingertips rise and fall slightly with Emily’s breathing. My property, my silent girl.

“She’s warm. She’s very warm, Mister.”

“Yes, she is. My Emily runs hot, all the time, to be honest. Do you like how she feels?”

“Yes, Mister.”

I know Emily is smiling.

“Now, would you like to bring her pleasure,” my hand covers hers, guiding her fingers in stroking the warm skin, “or pain?” and I press on her index finger, making the well trimmed nail dig into my Emily’s flesh. They both make sounds.

Doctor Sandra shakes her head, like a child caught misbehaving.

“So pleasure, then?”

“Yes, Mister.”

“Just so you understand, for Emily, they truly are two sides of the same coin. She does not endure pain, not like most people do. She thrives on it.”

Doctor Sandra is chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Emily enjoys a great number of things, touches, activities,” my hand, covering Doctor Sandra’s, moves down Emily’s spine, down to the small of her back. “Her body is full of secrets to explore. Little things that grant power, if you know them.” I guide our hands down further, to Emily’s ass.

My hand grips the soft cheeks, spreading them.

Revealing her.

I note, happily, that Emily is holding her breath.

“Now, my Emily loves a good fucking in her ass, she does. But would you like to know what she truly enjoys, Doctor Sandra?”

There’s silence. I appreciate that. The good Doctor has probably never seen anything quite like this, in real life, at least.

“Doctor Sandra?”

“Yes! I…I would like to know, Mister.”

“She likes having just a light touch. More than a tease, definitely, but not much more. She likes that very much.”

Emily wants to speak. She wants to moan. But she won’t.

“Would you like to give that touch to her, Doctor Sandra?”

She pauses.

I don’t know if she’s trying to figure out if she’s ready to touch another woman this way, or if the question is a trick. I’m hoping it’s the latter. That is way more fun.

Regardless, she’s waited too long.

“I asked you a question, Doctor Sandra,” with an impatient edge in my voice.

She really doesn’t have a choice about her answer now.

“Yes, Mister.”

I sigh.

“Say it.”

“I want to give that touch to her, Mister.”

“Good girl.”

I take her hand, guiding it between Emily’s ass cheeks, and rest her middle finger right on her anus.

“Now, touch right there. Just with the ball of your fingertip. Trace the rim very lightly. Like you are touching a rose.”

She does, in tiny circles.

At first, there’s nothing. She’s curious, interested, desperate to please me. Then Emily makes a tiny noise, something that says ‘please’ and ‘oh god’, without a word.

And now Doctor Sandra is involved in an entirely new way.

“Shhh,” though it isn’t clear who I am talking to, “just like that. Circles around the soft, warm, dark place. Can you feel it, clenching, pulsating? Reacting to you, and you alone?”

Both of my girls are taking quivering breaths.

“Yes, Mister. I can feel it. I can feel her.”

“Now, we aren’t going to go inside her. Maybe another time. This is what she truly loves, though.”

“Not inside, not inside,” Doctor Sandra mumbles, barely paying attention to me, which is fine, in this instance.

She’s fascinated, maybe a little intoxicated.

Emily’s hips are moving, just a tiny bit. She wants someone else doing this, she wants their guidance, she wants to let them play her. But a girl’s body is gonna do what it does, and her control isn’t perfect.

I reach one hand around and grasp Emily’s throat. She needs the control, and I need to feel her racing pulse.

She lets out a moan.

“Do you know what I love most about this, Doctor Sandra?”

“No. No. Please tell me, Mister.”

“She loves this so damn much, but she can’t cum from it.”

They both make tiny sounds.

I’m feeling Doctor Sandra’s finger moving more confidently, learning the control, learning to manipulate.

I can smell Emily’s cunt, feel her already warm flesh heating.

“This is how we deny her. How I deny her. Now, press a little bit harder. Not inside, no, just enough to make her…bloom a bit.”

Doctor Sandra obeys.

“Please…please, Daddy.”

I squeeze that throat tighter.


Her hips are moving, trying to find anything, trying to find release. Her knees are weak, and she doesn’t want to collapse. That would mean losing Doctor Sandra’s fingertip, and my displeasure.

“Who owns your orgasm, Emily?”

“You do, Daddy, oh god you do only you.”

“Yes, I do. Would you like me to let you have one?”

“Please, anything, her finger, I need please please please.”

I’m so fucking hard.

I lift Doctor Sandra’s hand away from my little girl.

“That’s time on our session, Doctor.”

Emily is so perfect, she doesn’t collapse. She shakes, but doesn’t fall. I drape my coat around her.

“We’ll see you next week.”

I lead her out, naked under my coat, leaving her clothes behind.

Read Chapter 1 here:

Therapy: Chapter 1

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