Shrink

She’s wearing a tight black skirt, black stockings, high heels, and a white shirt. A few buttons at the top are open so that you can see her breasts. You are sure it’s done on purpose; the woman definitely knows your mind will wander into the wide-open lands of inappropriate thoughts. But this is good after all, considering the matters that made you come here, searching for help. You dreamt about her just last night. It wasn’t necessarily her, but someone very similar, her type, with this strict black skirt, high heels, tight shirt, nothing underneath. You are certain she’s not wearing a bra; you can see the perky bulges of her nipples through the fabric of the shirt.

“Good day,” she says, smiling, as she shakes your hand. Her lips are painted bright red, as though she’s just feasted on the blood of the innocents, someone like you. She could definitely have you for dinner if she so wishes, you’d be a willing victim, as long as she lets you eat her first. You shake her hand, trying not to stare at her tits or her ass, but it’s hard not to; it’s as though she made it her goal to have people stare at her. You are embarrassed; you came here to rid yourself of all kinds of inappropriate thoughts, not to breed them like mushrooms after pouring rain. She’s definitely not wearing panties under that skirt; garters and stockings, most definitely, but no panties. She could simply pull the skirt up and order you to lick her, and nothing would be in the way.

She takes you into a small, cozy room across the hall, walks up to a window, and gracefully lowers herself into a chair at the window. She’s bathed in light pouring through a wide window. If she ordered it, you’d drop to your knees, crawl across the room, and beg for permission to lick her pussy. But it’s these thoughts that you want to rid yourself of. You are not here to make it worse; you are here to get better. You pay her to help you, but she only seems to ruin everything, as though it is her goal to ruin you and make you suffer. It might be her goal after all, you think, the cunt. Wasn’t it the past session that you described exactly this fantasy, a woman dressed in a tight black skirt and white blouse, garters and high heels, no underwear, ordering you to worship her with your tongue, ordering you to crawl and beg? You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, and now she’s dressed in this manner, as though mocking you, teasing you, always smiling with that bright red mouth of hers.

“Sit down,” she says, nodding at the chair opposite hers. You wait another moment, hoping stupidly that she would order you to get on your hands and knees, crawl across the room, and spread her legs, letting you admire her bare pussy, then ordering you to please her, make her cum. Oh, how hard you’d make her cum; the walls of this room would tremble. She orders you nothing of the kind, only nods encouragingly, and sly, mischievous little fires sparkle in her green eyes. She knows exactly what goes through your mind; of that, you have no doubts. She’s teasing you.

Slowly you walk across the room and lower yourself into the chair. You are hard, but you don’t try to conceal it. She’s started this game; you just play along. She looks at the bulge in your pants, then up at you; her smile grows wider. You blush and cross your legs. You are uncomfortable, embarrassed, but this makes you even harder, so hard that you fear the hardness of your cock might tear through the fabric of your pants.

“Tell me about your dreams,” she says. “Have you had those dreams again?”

“You I motherfucking did,” you bark at her. “It’s not even dreams at this point, “It’s endless, never-ending fantasies. I can’t really sleep, you know.”

She nods. She knows, of course, crosses her legs. You glance at her, making sure she’s not wearing any panties. You know she did this on purpose. You look her in the face. She’s smiling. She knows exactly what she’s doing. But maybe this is the therapy. Maybe that’s the way for you to be free of your all-consuming, devouring fantasies.

“Why don’t you follow through with your fantasies?” she asks.

You shrug.

“It’s wrong. I wasn’t raised this way, and my wife would never understand, and I don’t want to…”

“All those justifications and limitations are only in your head,” she says. “You know you don’t have to be a slave to them.”

“Looks like I must be a slave to something,” you say.

“Or someone,” she adds. “Tell me more about your dreams.”

“You know everything, judging by the way you look.”

She giggles this time.

“You noticed.”

“Of course, I motherfucking noticed.”

“It’s part of the therapy.”

“I figured it has to be part of something.”

“Tell me more about your dreams,” she insists.

You don’t want to tell her more. You are too embarrassed. You blush even more, and your dick gets even harder. “Motherfucking cunt,” you think. She tortures you and is enjoying it, most definitely.

“Ok, my dreams.”

You stop to think for a moment, not sure where to start.

Dreams.

“I dream of a woman, dressed in black, high heels, stockings, and garters, tall and shapely, like you…” You nod at her. She smiles and nods.

“Of course. Continue.”

Her eyes turn dark, it seems to you, eager. She leans closer, looking you in the face, very attentive. Her eagerness encourages you, turns you on.

“She orders me to go on my hands and knees and worship her.”

“Do you obey?”

“Oh, that I do. I motherfucking obey so fast and so eagerly. She doesn’t even have to say a word; I probably can read her mind. I worship her in every way I know how, her pussy, her ass, her every hole. I lick her nice and long, suck her clit, stick my motherfucking tongue everywhere and drink her juices. I make her cum so hard and so often that her legs go weak…”

“And then?” she asks, smiling.

“And then she takes out a butt plug. It’s a special butt plug, you know, inflatable. She says we are going to spread my ass wide, she’s going to fuck my ass, make me her property. She says I will forever belong to her now. I want to protest; this is not right, but I have no power. She has all the power, so all I do is turn around when she pulls the butt plug out of her bag. She has lots of stuff in that bag. I am afraid, ashamed, and aroused at the thought of all the other toys she might have in there. She lubes my ass and pushes the butt plug in. It’s not too big, though uncomfortable at first; I take it obediently. At this point, she can do whatever she wants to me. She says I am a good boy, and it

turns me on even more. She orders me to pump air into the butt plug, make it bigger, spread my ass wider, she says I need to be ready for the things to come and cum…Pun intended”

You look her in the face as you speak of your dreams, inappropriate, shameful dreams that you would so wish not to have and yet, yet they keep you up at night.

“Good”, she says, “I think I know how to liberate you from these fantasies.

“Do you, really?”

You sigh with relief and smile.

“Of course. I am a professional after all”

She stands up, towers above you.

“I will leave you for a short moment”, she say, “While I’m away I want you to think more about your dreams, in details. We will talk more about them when I come back”

You look up at her, stare up at her. Whatever she says you are ready to obey, her and woman from dreams merge into one in your mind. Maybe you were dreaming about her. Maybe her and that woman are one. Maybe you had dreamt about her even before you came here.

“Will you be a good boy?, she asks.

“Yes, ma’am”, you say, “Whatever you say”

You will be a good boy.

She nods, walks across the room and disappears behind the door. You stay alone in the room, don’t dare to move because you were ordered not to, you wait for her to come back and think about your dreams. In your dreams, once your ass was spread nice and wide, she pulled out a long, thick dildo out of her bottomless bag, put on a leather harness that looked endlessly hot on her, put you on your hands and knees and fucked you nice and hard in every position you could think of. She made you her bitch and you loved every motherfucking minute of it.

You are still thinking about it when she walks into the room wearing nothing but the garters, stockings and high hills, leather harness and long, thick dildo. In her hand she’s holding an inflatable butt plug.

“get on your hands and knees and crawls here”, she orders and you obey.