Fetish Therapy

"Students Needed for Research Project. $100.00 per test"

I saw the sign posted above the ATM machine. There was a number which I jotted down and tucked in my bag. Not bad money and from the looks of my bank balance, I desperately needed it.

I didn't think much of it until I got home and pulled my notebook out of my bag. The piece of paper with the number scrawled on it feel out. I picked up the phone and called. There was a recorded message, telling me of the location on campus (the psychology building) and the times when testing was scheduled.

I opened my day planner and added the appointment, 7:00 tonight.

I ate, took a shower and made my way to campus. When I got there, I saw 30 or so other students milling about and two older students sitting at a long folding table. The woman was wearing a white lab coat and had her hair pulled back tight in a bun and wore a pair of black rimmed glasses. Even so, she was strikingly beautiful. The man was younger, blond ruffled hair, wearing a similar coat. He was very cute.

At 7:00 sharp, the main door was locked and we were instructed to sit in the chair provided. I found one right up front and sat down. We were handed a clipboard with a questionairre and given a pencil to fill it out.

I dutifully filled in my name, student id number, social security number and the rest. There was a long section on demographics, age, questions about where I had lived, brothers, sisters, etc.

The next few pages were strange and seemed to make everyone a bit uncomfortable. They asked very personal questions about sexuality, preferences, history and there was nearly 100 questions which required a response of "arousal" on a 10 point scale. The first twenty or so questions seemed very typical, but as the list went on, it started to grow more and more bizarre.

I had to decide, was I going to be honest? So many of the things listed did arouse me, some more powerfully than the first twenty questions.

I grew fidgety answering the questions. It was like they knew all my secrets, the things I fantasize about but had never told a soul. By the time I got to the end, I had found I was checking almost all 10s. Just filling out the survey had made me wet.

I was blushing as I handed them the clip board. The woman took it, looked me over briefly and check a few boxes along the top marked "For Research Use Only." Niether of them smiled at me, only directing to have a seat and wait to be called.

I watched as each person submitted their forms in turn. When they were all complete, the young woman informed us that this was simply "pre-screening" and to get a spot in the actual research, they would need to perform some basic calculations. It would be about 15 minutes until they would call us in for final interviews.

There was a bit of tension in the room as people considered what they had revealed on their surveys. It was clear that most people were confused and someone put off by the questions. A few others, I noticed seemed to have a response similar to mine. They were unable to look the man and woman in the eyes, they looked nervous and a few, like me, were blushing.

We waited anxiously for the researchers to return. When they did, they read off a list of 5 names. Mine wasn't on the list.

The 5 were taken back into the lab and the rest of us were excused. I was disappointed, so I asked the woman if there was any chance I might be included later.

She smiled at me, a smile which scared me. It seemed to look right through me.

"We'll be in contact, Keiko," she said.

I blinked. "How did you know my name?" I asked.

The man chuckled. "We know a lot more about you than just your name."

With that the two of them turned away and entered the lab, leaving me confused and a bit nervous.

I headed home a bit dejected. I had been counting on the money to pay some bills and maybe get a nice dinner. Ramen noodles again, I thought to myself.

About a half hour after I arrived home, the phone rang.

"Keiko Tanaka?"

"Yes," I answered.

"You will be at 421 South High Street tomorrow morning at 4:30 a.m.," the voice said. I was 95% sure it had been the woman from the research study.

"Um, who is this?" I asked.

"You will be dressed in a pair of black shorts and a black t shirt."

There was a click.

"Hello? Hello?" The line was dead.

I wrote down the address and thought about it. "No way." I thought to myself, "this is just too weird."

As the night wore on my curiousity was growing. High street wasn't far away and I could set my alarm for 4 a.m. and decide then.

I ate my noodles and turned in early, setting the alarm for 4:00.

I climbed into bed of parted my legs, feeling so hungry and so needy. I traced my fingers lightly over my belly and up and down my thighs, gently I began to play with my lips through my satin panties, squirming and acrhing my back. I started thinking about the questions, touching myself now under my panties, questions about being helpless, being spanked, being tied up and the really arousing ones, about being laughed at, humiliated, the butt of a joke, being called names. I started to imagine the man and woman who administered the survey calling me names, watching me masturbate, laughing at me. But I would keep going, no matter what they would say. I drew it out letting myself get close to orgasm over and over again, thining about the other questions, "Being teased," "Being brought to the brink of orgasm and denied release," "Wearing a chastity belt," "Being punished for masturbating," "Needing permission to orgasm," they had all been 10s, every one of them! So were the questions about bondage and humiliation.

I started to get so overwhelmed, thinking "Oh God, they know everything!" I started to tremble and squirm, imagining the two of them reading my survey, I imagined them reading and laughing, making fun of me for my dirty secret kinks and fetishes and as I did, I exploded into the most intense orgasm of my life! I collapsed, panting and sweaty. I reached over to check the alarm, making sure it was set.

The music blared and the alarm droned its annoying buzz, filling the room. I rolled over and turned it off, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

As I pulled myself out of bed, I found my shorts and t-shirt I had layed out the night before. After a quick shower, I pulled my hair back into a scrunchie and tossed on the shirt and shorts. I headed out at 4:15 chewing on a Power Bar for breakfast and made it to High St. a few minutes early.

To my amazement, there were four other girls waiting, each dressed exactly like I was. We all traded nervous laughter commenting on how weird the whole situation was. I couldn't help but notice that the other four girls were also drop dead gorgeous, each very distinctive, but unusually attractive.

Before we got past formalities, the door opened, and we were ushered inside. I turned to the girl I had been standing next to (Mary) and whispered, "This is so weird!" She nodded.

The woman who had let us in, the same woman from the psych experiment, shot me a very cross look. "No speaking, Keiko." I swallowed and bit and nodded, indicating that I understood.

Each of us was called by name from the waiting room and taken to a seperate room.

When I stepped inside, I was intrigued. It was a small office with a desk, an exam table and a very odd looking chair, which resembled a dentist chair, adorned with a number of heavy leather straps and stainless steel restraints. It made me squirm to look at it.

I looked around the room, looking at the books on the shelves and admiring the art on the walls.

The woman from the experiment came in and smiled. "Remove your clothes, Keiko. The doctor with be with you in a minute."

I tilted my head, "Remove them? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Do it now," she responded. Her tone sending a shiver down my spine. I slipped out of the shorts and shirt and slipped off my panties. I looked around for somewhere to put them. She reached out and took them from me.

I stood, naked, my hands covering my chest and crotch, which seemed to amuse her. "The doctor will be right in."

"I didn't get your name," I said as she turned. She glanced back and smiled, "Nurse," was all she said, before shutting the door. There was a small click and as I suspected, the door had been locked.

After what seemed like an eternity of standing naked, wondering, the door opened again. An older man, maybe mid 30s, entered and smiled at me. He held a clipboard and was reading it. His tone was pleasant as he spoke, "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the exam table.

I hopped up on it, feeling the paper lining stick to my bottom and thighs.

The door opened again and the woman returned. They traded greetings, "Hello Nurse," he said. She smiled, "Hello Doctor."

He raised his head and looked at me, "Well, Miss Tanaka, do you know why you are here?"

I shrugged. "Not really, I suspect it had something to do with the survey I took at school?" I looked over at the nurse.

"That's right. That survey has many purposes. And one of them is what brought you here." He reached down and put a hand on each of my knees, opening my legs, exposing me. "That is how you will sit for us, Miss Tanaka, do you understand?"

"Um, why?" I asked, whimpering slightly.

"That will all be explained. It is very important that you follow instructions while you are here, both from myself and from Nurse."

I scrunched my face a bit, "Don't you have names?" I asked.

They both laughed and the doctor responded, "Of course we do. But we never use them with our patients. Whenever you see a man or woman in a lab coat, they will always be Doctor or Nurse to you."

I squirmed, making the paper underneath me crinkle. My legs moved closer together and as they did, I felt hands on my knees spreading them back apart. I blushed and looked away, knowing I was starting to respond to the exposure.

The doctor spoke to me, "You, Keiko, are what we have come to describe as a fetish girl. And from now on, while you are here, that will be part of your name.

I blushed deeply and nodded.

"You have a very peculiar make-up. It is represented by only one in every ten thousand girls. The others that you met this morning are in the same category as you, only you seem to rate higher in nearly every category. The survey this afternoon was designed to find girls like you," he paused, "and the others."

I squirmed, but said nothing.

"Now, Fetish Girl Keiko, you have been selected to be a part of a very special series of experiments. It is something we call, fetish therapy," the doctor looked at the nurse and smiled.

"You mean?" I tiled my head, "You mean you are going to cure me of them?"

They both laughed, almost in harmony. The nurse spoke this time, "No Fetish Girl Keiko, we have something quite different planned for you." She turned to the doctor, then glanced at the chair. "Shall I?" she inquired.

The doctor nodded and the nurse took my hand. I smiled as she helped me off the table and led me over to the chair.

She led me to the chair and helpled me into it. Immediately my legs and arms were strapped down, followed by a pair of straps across my chest, above and below my breasts.

She did it gently, almost tenderly. By the end, my ankles, knees, elbows and wrists were secured firmly, but not uncomfortably. It felt good, secure, even safe. I knew I was helpless and vulnerable, but it was also exciting.

"This is where your therapy sessions will take place, Fetish Girl Keiko. You will always be bound, and," there was a small click and I found the padded rests where my legs were attached spreading, "exposed."

First, the spread at the ankles, seperating my legs into a V, then new motors whirred and my knees were raised, splaying me even wider.

I squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't like this so much," I said, my voice quivering a bit.

"Then why are you getting wet, Fetish Girl Keiko?" the nurse asked, in a tone that was just short of being cold.

The doctor intervened, "That is your body responding, like a good fetish girl. Now if I was to start talking about bondage and tape, your body will respond as well, won't it?"

I felt my stomach tighen, and, against every wish and desire, I could feel my belly tingling, my thighs quivering, wanting to be touched. I turned my head, blushing terribly.

"We also know that humiliation and embarrassment arouses you, Fetish Girl Keiko, as do a number of other things," the doctor added.

"Oh God, doctor, look," the nurse said in genuine amazement. "I have never seen a fetish girl get so wet, so quickly."

I was shaking my head now, "OK, please, this is too much, please can we stop now?"

"No Fetish Girl Keiko," the doctor informed me, "Your sessions go from 4:30 a.m. to 6:00, daily. It is not time for it to end yet."

The nurse wheeled in an IV and began to swab the back of my hand. Unable to resist, I turned my head, and felt a small prick in the back of my hand. She rolled it back out of site. The doctor reassured me, "It is just a sedative to help you with your therapy."

Soon I was finding it difficult to keep my eyes open. Oddly I was still awake, hearing sounds and voices, but deeply drowsy. I could hear the nurse and the doctor, someone more clearly. Then I felt something being placed over my head and a wash of what sounded like white noise in my ears.

Then, above it all, a calm, soothing voice, it sounded so beautiful, so gentle, like all was right with the world.

It seeped into my consciousness telling me to relax and I did.

It started to speak, "Your name is now Fetish Girl Keiko, it is who you are and what you are. You need your fetishes. You love them. They are everytihng to you. Whenever you hear your name, you will think about your fetishes and how they embarrass you. You can't hide it anymore though, because it is who you are. Fetish Girl Keiko, Fetish Girl Keiko, Fetish Girl Keiko. . . ."

That was the last thing I remembered. The next thing I knew, I was dressed again, at the door. The clock said 6:00 a.m. I felt refreshed and wide awake and headed off to start my day.

Things went pretty much as you'd expect. Classes were boring. Lunch was bland. Dinner was a snack between classes. When I got home I drew myself a warm bath and slipped into the tub.

I ran my soapy hands over my breasts, playing gently with my nipples, then slowly down my belly and I began to touch myself. As I did, I found myself overwhelmed with an uncomfortable sensation, like someone was watching me, they could see me, I covered myself and jumped out of the tub, wrapping myself in a towel, heart pounding.

I look around carefully. The door and windows were all locked. I looked everywhere, ever closet, under the bed. No one was there.

I calmed myself down with a bowl of ice cream and got ready for bed. I curled up with the TV on and snuggled against a pillow. I was still so tense. I decided that I would relieve some of the tension touching myself once again. This time the feeling came again with more intensity, it wasn't just being watched, it was like I was on stage, speaking in public, naked. Ashamed, exposed, wide open for everyone to see.

"Oh God," I thought, "what is happening to me?" The worst part of it was, that as exposed and embarrassed as I felt, I could feel myself tingling inside, I could sense myself getting wet, needing to be touched, but everytime I tried, I was overwhelmed with embarrassment and feelings of exposure and vulnerability.

Finally, I managed to drift off to sleep, exhausted from a most unusual day.

I awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. I had a terrible fear that I was late for something. I looked at the clock, it was exactly 4:00 a.m. Without thinking, I showered and dressed in my black shorts and white t-shirt and headed out the door. At exactly 4:30, I found myself at the door of 421 South High Street, with the same girls who had been there yesterday. They looked equally confused. One of them looked very familiar but for the life of me I couldn't recall her name. She seemed to be having the same problem.

I was ushered into the same office where I had been yesterday. This time it looked different. All the items were the same, but I somehow felt differently about them, especially the chair. I looked at it fondly. When the nurse came in, she smiled. I looked down and realized I was naked. I had no memory of what happened to my clothes. I covered myself.

She smiled, "Does your nakedness embarrass you, Fetish Girl Keiko?" I felt my insides squirm and I nodded, feeling truly mortified to be naked in front of her.

I nodded and she made a note on the clipboard.

She pointed over to the chair, "And what do you think of the chair, Fetish Girl Keiko?"

I blushed and looked down, "I like it," I said softly.

"Excellent," the nurse said. "Would you like me to put you in it?"

I nodded, growing more embarrassed. She gently guided me to it and secured the straps. As they tightened, I could feel myself growing more excited. Not just excited, but more excited than I had ever been in my life, excited, turned on, desperate.

She left the room and I began to slip into a fit of moans and squirms. The chair held me so tight, so securely, everywhere the straps bound my body felt wonderful.

I barely noticed the Doctor come in. What caught my attention was the motors whirring and spreading my legs wide, bent at the knees. As he looked down between my legs with the nurse, I grew embarrassed again, but the embarrassment mixed with arousal, making it more intense, but also insanely pleasurable.

"Nurse, get me some baby wipes. It seems that Fetish Girl Keiko is just dripping wet," he said.

I blushed head to toe, a deep crimson, mortified.

"That is because Fetish Girl Keiko is a *dirty girl*," the nurse said, handing him the wipes, emphasizing the last two words.

As I heard them, I had an intense reaction. My right arm, bound tightly to the chair, started to tug and pull. The thing I needed more than anything else in the world was to get free so I could touch myself.

"Yes, a *very dirty girl*," the doctor added.

Now the bondage didn't feel pleasant at all, it felt miserable, confining, horrible. I hated it and I started to beg and plead to be released. All I could think about was touching myself, cuming, needing it. They sat back and watched as my desperation and horror grew.

Meanwhile a voice seemed to speak inside my head, "Only dirty girls masturbate. The worst dirties girls touch themselves." I couldn't tell where it was coming from or who was saying it.

The doctor and nurse smiled at each other while I twisted and squirmed. "You see why we need to have you restrained. Otherwise you'd simply be an idiot masturbator, Fetish Girl Keiko," the nurse said looking into my eyes.

Suddenly, like a switch was flicked, I stopped squirming. The voice, the need to touch, the desperation all went away, evaporated. All that was left was the arousal. I moaned softly.

"There are certain things we will use to control your body, Fetish Girl Keiko," the nurse explained. "And your mind," the doctor added.

"Are you going to cure me of these fetishes, doctor?" I asked, hopefully, hating the embarrassment and desperation.

The two of them broke into laughter. "Cure you, Fetish Girl Keiko? Oh Lord, No! We are going to addict you to them!"

I looked at them horrified.

"You won't be able to function a day without having your fetishes attended to. And here is the best part, you won't be able to do it yourself. You will need someone else. To embarrass you, humiliate you, bind you, watch you masturbate and, oh let's see what else," he flipped through the chart, "So many. Oh here are a few, let's see, smell you and tape you. Such unusual fetishes! And embarrassing I'd imagine."