Snow fell gently outside the window, increasing the wintry blanket already covering the frozen ground. Along with the roaring fireplace on the left of the room, it made the place feel almost cozy. Almost. Knowing he would likely be spending the next several months in this house, somewhat involuntarily, managed to seep away all of the fire's warmth.
Paul looked across the cherry coffee table, laden with a platter of cookies and a pot of steaming tea, at Sylvia, the proprietor of this house and his hostess.
Or captor?
Of course, she looked harmless enough. Fit, if not skinny, perhaps mid-forties, a kindly expression on her still-pretty face. Behind the gentle smile, though, Paul could sense something else. A quiet authority, and a confident assurance that she had all the power here.
And of course, she does.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Reynolds? Please, help yourself. To the cookies, as well," saying this, she poured herself a small cup, spooning bit of honey into it. She took a small sip, closing her eyes a moment as if savoring it, and then placed the cup and saucer back on the table. She turned to the folder in her lap. Paul noticed the rehab's slogan, "Deny your Addiction", printed on the front.
"So, down to business then, hmm? Three rehabs, was it? That's an... impressive... record."
She looked over at Paul expectantly, one eyebrow raised in query.
"Uh, yes... ma'am. I suppose... this isn't my first rodeo."
"Hmm. Well, I think you'll find our... rodeo... may be different from the others you've experienced. But you already know this, yes? I suspect, it's why you're here?"
I'd best just be up front and sincere.
"I... yes. In truth, ma'am, I'm at the end of my rope. I can't keep a job... my marriage is in shambles, and as hard as I've tried, at
three
different facilities, I keep falling back into the addictions. This is in so many ways my last chance. Failing this, I know my divorce will be finalized, I'll lose the kids, and I'll probably end up in prison. Like my wife, the courts aren't going to give me any more chances. Can you... help me? I'm... desperate." Paul couldn't keep his voice from choking up, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.
"Hmm, desperation. That word is in many ways the key to beating any addiction. I suspect you don't fully understand it. Not yet." She paused to take a sip of tea. "I appreciate you telling me all of this. I think you'll find that honesty is definitely the best policy, and the fastest road to recovery. What is the latest version, hmm? The oxy?"
"Y...yes, ma'am. Well... no... when I couldn't get a hold of that any more... I turned to the next closest thing."
"Ah yes, heroine. And before that?"
"Alcohol. And gambling."
"Mmm. Quite a laundry list."
Paul felt his cheeks reddening, and he looked down at the shaggy carpet. "It... is."
"The good news, Mr. Reynolds, is that the key to overcoming any addiction is the same. My methods are unusual, and at times unpleasant, but they are 100% effective. If I accept you as a patient, in a few months (on average) you could walk out of here a free man. Free from substance abuse, free from crippling addiction, free from shame and self-hatred. Free to pursue your marriage, your children, your career. Your life."
Tears once again came, unbidden. "That... that sounds amazing, ma'am."
Sylvia's voice hardened as her face took on a very serious expression. "Before I go into any details, I must remind you of the NDA that you signed. I take this extremely seriously. If you speak of any details of my treatment or of the personal information of anyone here to anyone outside these walls, I have a team of lawyers ready to sue you into oblivion. Is that understood?"
Paul gulped. "Yes, ma'am."
"Very good. Now, I won't lie to you, Mr. Reynolds. Treatment here is a hard road. You will find some of your time here to be quite possibly the most difficult you've ever experienced. You will, perhaps, also find a great deal of pleasure. But along with it, true desperation and longing."
Paul felt his heart beating faster. "I don't know that it could get any more difficult than being alone in a prison cell with no family or friends left."
"I'm sure, in some ways, that is true. You were told that becoming my patient has a series of restrictions, yes? Once you sign the paperwork, you will not leave this house until I see fit to release you. I will not do so until I am confident you are fully recovered. You will be, temporarily of course, giving up your freedom. You will also not have contact with the outside world. You will need to surrender your phone and any other electronic devices."
Paul nodded.
Doesn't sound so different from the other places, so far.
"You will also be surrendering yourself sexually."
Paul felt sweat gathering on this forehead and back. "Sexually?" He'd heard vague stories, of course. This woman's techniques involved far more than just group discussions and meditation. He couldn't decide if he was more excited or afraid at the prospect.
"Yes, Mr. Reynolds. You will not be forced to have sex with anyone with whom you do not consent, of course. But you will lose your sexual autonomy. I will be in control of your body and your ability to orgasm." Sylvia's dark eyes swept down to land quite obviously at Paul's pants. "You will also be part of certain therapies involving other patients. You have marked your sexual preferences and boundaries on this paperwork, and I will follow them quite closely. And you, of course, can choose not to consent to any contact with other patients. However, a great deal of this program is making you as aroused as possible, rarely with much satisfaction, and certain interactions between patients can be very effective. I will choose what, if anything, you are permitted to wear. And what stimulation, if any, you are permitted to have. Are you able to accept those terms?"
Paul thought about it. It was a bit terrifying, the prospect of not being in control of his own body. For months. But, in truth, he'd already lost control of his body for longer than that. The drive to satisfy his addictions was already in control.
It's not as if I have any other options.
"I... I can."
"I'm not here to trick you, Mr. Reynolds. I want you to make this decision entirely of your own volition, with full knowledge of what you are accepting. Therefore, I will demonstrate to you some of the treatment you may expect to experience here. Though, hopefully, not this exact treatment."
She turned around towards a closed door at the back of the room. "Thea? Come in here, please."
"Yes, Mistress," Paul heard a soft voice reply. The door opened, and a woman walked slowly into the room. Paul's mouth dropped open, and his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. The woman who walked in looked to be in her early thirties, relatively fit, with brown hair, and a very pretty face. She was also, almost entirely, naked. The bare nipples of her pale, sizeable breasts looked as hard as any Paul had ever seen. The only adornment on her entire body was what Paul soon realized was a chastity belt. He'd heard of those, of course. But he couldn't recall ever seeing one before. She took short, trembling steps with her shapely legs, as if the effort to walk was great. Her face was dark scarlet as she glanced Paul's way. Paul felt his pants becoming quite confining as his dick stiffened in response to this new visitor. It was then that it hit him. She smelled entirely of sex. He noticed wetness between her thighs, slowly dripping to the floor below.
"Ah, thank you, Thea. Could you please explain to our prospective patient here, your current predicament?"
Thea's eyes threatened to bore holes in the floor in front of her as she obediently answered. "I, uh, well I have this... chastity belt on. And it... has sensors... and a vibrator... and a... dildo... inside me."
Sylvia looked on impatiently. "Yes, yes. And what is it doing to you?"
"It's... driving me insane," the girl said, almost under her breath.
"Thea. You know that's not what I meant. Don't give me reason to add on to your sentence," Sylvia didn't raise her voice in the least, and yet something in her tone and manner made Thea almost jump.
"Uh, yes, mistress... sorry mistress. It vibrates and drives me close to an orgasm... and then stops before I can achieve one. If I get too close it... zaps... me. Then it starts over. Over... and over... all day... with only pauses for sleep and short breaks. Like right now."
"And how long have you been undergoing this... treatment?"
"It will be one week tonight, mistress."
"Thank you, Thea. And could you tell our new friend here, why you've spent the last week tortured with such intense, constant arousal and denial?"
Thea's face turned an even darker shade of red. "I... well... I came... without permission."
Sylvia looked back at Paul. "That is the number one rule here. No one cums unless I give them permission to do so. Doing so jeopardizes everything we are working to achieve. It will likely also extend Thea's time here with us."
Thea let out a squeak, and then clutched on to a nearby bookcase to support her weight. Her legs began to shake as she whimpered. Paul could hear, very slightly, the sound of a vibrator. She began moaning, obviously attempting to suppress it, but unable to do so.
Sylvia smiled at Paul. "I guess break time is over. What you are seeing is quite on the extreme end of what you might expect here. Dear Thea would not have experienced this if not for her disobedience."
Paul found himself speechless. He felt embarrassed for Thea, a little afraid for himself, and also extremely turned on by watching a beautiful woman so aroused and yet denied from satisfaction.
