Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any events or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All players are over the age of eighteen unless otherwise stated. If you have a problem with bondage or non-consensual sex, go no further! This story is purely for adult fantasy and entertainment. The author in no way condones violence towards women. Constructive criticism and comments welcome at the end. My special thanks to a new fan, Gee J, who gave me this idea! I hope you all enjoy!
-BBD
Chapter One
This is ridiculous! I don't need therapy! This is all a mistake! I'm getting out of here.
"Mrs. Meyer?"
The receptionist jars me from my thoughts.
"Yes?"
"The doctor will see you now. Go right in."
"Eh, thank you."
I head into the office. The first thing that strikes me is how soft the light appears. There are a couple of lamps with shades that look like they were fashioned from paper that give off a soft orange light. On the walls are paintings of calming things, a sandy beach, a beautiful sunset and one that instantly catches my eye, a woman standing under a street lamp all alone with only the glow of the light surrounding her. I get closer to look. The street looks wet and the puddles look so real!
"One of my patients did that for me," says a deep voice. I jump.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. How are you? I'm Sam Mitchell."
He's tall, probably about six feet and some change. He has a nicely built upper body, broad shoulders and chest. The grey at his temples contrasts nicely with his wavy dark hair and the stubble on his face gives him a kind of rugged sexy look. His hazel eyes twinkle at me behind dark rimmed glasses. He's wearing a nice fisherman's sweater over some dark jeans. He doesn't look like a psychologist! If anything he looks like he should be shooting an ad for some designer men's cologne, the kind that they put in fashion magazines on those cards and the sample makes you weak in the knees!
"Hi, I'm Rayna Meyer. It's nice to meet you."
He has a nice firm handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Meyer."
"Oh, you can call me Rayna. Only my daughter's friends call me Mrs. Meyer."
"How old is your daughter?"
"She just made nineteen."
"Is she going to school?"
"Yes, sophomore year at the university downtown. She's majoring in nursing."
"Very admirable profession. Nurses are still the most trusted professionals. Politicians are at the bottom of that list."
I chuckle.
"Well, why don't you have a seat wherever you are comfortable?"
"Thank you."
I sit on the couch. I'm surprised at how soft it is.
"So," Dr. Mitchell sits in a big leather high backed office chair facing me, "what brings you here?"
I fold my hands on my lap. I find one hand unconsciously pulling at the thread of my own sweater.
"I...well, it's kind of silly," I laugh nervously.
"Are you anxious, Rayna?"
"Eh, uh, just a...a little."
"May I see your hands?"
"What for?"
"I just want to see your nails."
I hold out my hands to him. He inspects them briefly.
"You bite your nails." His tone is merely observant, not condescending at all.
"Yes. I'm afraid that it's a habit that I haven't been able to break."
"Have you done this since childhood?"
"Yes."
"Was growing up hard for you, Rayna?"
"Well, kind of."
"Could you elaborate?"
I tell him about my childhood. I grew up in a two parent home. My dad worked, my mom stayed home with my sister and I. In reality, I had what other kids wanted. I wasn't a latchkey kid. There was always someone there when I got home from school. My mom was a good cook. She chauffeured us around to all of our activities. She and my dad came to our concerts, recitals, and games. However, the other kids always had a way of making me feel like I was lacking in some area or another. I was constantly picked on and teased because I was smart.
"Nothing I ever did was good enough for my peers," I find myself saying. "I could walk into school looking like I was modeling clothes for a major department store, and they would still find a reason to laugh at me!"
"So you felt insecure growing up?"
"All the time."
"How did that affect your love life?"
"I've had a lot of boyfriends, but that was because any guy who showed me attention, I went out with him. I ended up with a lot of losers."
"Were you ever abused by any of them?"
"Physically, no, but verbally, yes. My husband was the latter years of our marriage."
"Do you feel comfortable talking about your marriage?"
I shift in my seat.
"I uh..." I stammer.
"May I offer you some tea? I find that it helps my patients relax."
"Oh. Yes. Tea would be lovely. Thank you."
"Would you care for some Southern Sweet blend?"
"Yes. That would be nice."
I notice that he has a mini Keurig behind his desk. It takes only a few minutes to make the tea. He hands it to me in a delicate china cup on a saucer. I gently blow on it and take a sip. It's wonderful! It has a warm smooth taste that feels good going down.
"This is very good, Dr. Mitchell. Thank you."
"Now, do you want to talk about your husband?"
"Ex-husband."
"How long have you been divorced?"
"About nine months. Really, we have been out of sorts for some time. Really, we just held it together for our daughter."
"That's not uncommon. What led you to divorce him?"
"Honestly? He cheated on me with my best friend."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Did he say why?"
"She is everything I'm not, taller, thinner, prettier, she can afford plastic surgery, to name a few."
"You aren't happy with your body, Rayna?"
"No. Well, I've had curves since I was eighteen. I have been up and down my whole adult life. I have been every size between a ten and a twenty. When we first got married, James loved me. He loved it when I was pregnant. He was such an attentive husband and a good father. At least we never argued in front of Trinity, our daughter. She didn't know until she was older that there was contention between me and her dad. I'd say when she was twelve, things started falling apart. He said I was too heavy. I wasn't sexy any more. I went on diets time after time and lost weight, but then I'd get stressed and gain it all back. When he really complained about me not being interesting in the bedroom any more, I started taking belly dancing classes so I'd learn to be more sensual for him."
"Did you continue with those classes?"
"Yes, I did. I like the way they make me feel...even if my husband didn't appreciate it, or told me that I was too fat to be a belly dancer."
"That was very wrong of him to put you down that way."
Dr. Mitchell begins to softly tap his own cup with the ring on his right hand.
"Are you feeling more relaxed now, Rayna?"
"I...I think so."
"Perhaps you would care to stretch out a bit? You may take your shoes off if that makes you more comfortable."
"Thank you."
I am feeling relaxed, very relaxed.
"Do you feel as though you might fall asleep?"
"Yes."
I hear him set the cup down. He picks up my hand. Small jolts of electricity begin to travel through me. Each one makes me feel more and more like I'm floating in the air. I cannot feel my feet anymore.
