When Stefan signs up for an unconventional therapy session, he expects a bit of guidance maybe even relief from his particular problem. What he doesn't expect is Dr. Petra: a dangerously composed therapist whose methods blur the line between professional care and utter submission.
With every calculated touch and clinical command, Petra strips him down mind, body, and control until he's left at her mercy, a subject in her most intimate experiment yet.
But Stefan isn't the only one watching his boundaries crumble.
Hidden behind a screen, Mina can't look away. Curiosity turns to obsession as she witnesses what real domination looks like and wonders how it would feel to be next on the doctor's table.
A story of dominance, psychological play, and the kind of therapy that leaves you begging for more.
"Treatment complete... or is it?"
............................................................................................................................................................
Mina wasn't even thinking about sex.
At least, not consciously.
If anything, she was thinking about how much she hated cleaning. The apartment did look good now floors shiny, shelves dusted, even that annoying corner behind the couch had been vacuumed for once. But in exchange, she was sweaty, slightly annoyed, and craving something mindless to unwind.
The windows were wide open, letting in that lazy Belgrade breeze that smelled faintly of sun warmed concrete and the neighbor's cooking. Her tank top clung uncomfortably to her back, damp with sweat, and her loose cotton shorts had bunched up so high on her thighs she didn't bother adjusting them anymore. Barefoot, hair thrown into a messy knot with strands sticking rebelliously to her neck, she looked like the picture of post chores exhaustion the kind you earn.
With a dramatic sigh worthy of an award, Mina flopped onto the couch like she was collapsing after a marathon.
"Done. Finally."
Her body sprawled out, one leg tucked under her, the other lazily draped over the armrest. She could still feel the light sheen of sweat cooling on her skin, goosebumps rising where the breeze hit damp patches through her tank top. She stretched, her back arching slightly, feeling the delicious ache of muscles that had been worked not in fun ways, sadly.
She reached for her phone, the universal tool of boredom relief.
No messages. Nenad was still at work, probably for another hour or two.
No notifications worth caring about.
So, she scrolled.
Reddit. Nothing but memes and drama.
Instagram. A few stories of people pretending their lives were more interesting than they were.
Twitter. Chaos as usual.
Then the meme.
A crude, exaggerated cartoon of an anime girl eyes rolled back, mouth open in a dramatic "O", surrounded by way too many guys, all censored just enough to get past social media filters. The caption read:
"If it exists, there's porn of it. #Rule thirty four was the moto."
Mina snorted, shaking her head. "God, people are such degenerates."
But the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. She bit the inside of her cheek, thumb hovering over her screen as the tiniest spark of curiosity flickered to life.
It wasn't like she didn't know what thirty four rule was everyone on the internet had heard the phrase. But she'd never actually... looked. Not properly. Maybe a glimpse here or there, a joke link sent in some group chat. But today? She had time. She had no plans. And frankly, after scrubbing floors and wiping down countertops, she felt like she deserved a little harmless entertainment.
"Just a peek," she told herself, already unlocking her laptop with a wicked smirk.
A quick search later, and there it was the thirty four rule window.
Her eyebrows shot up the moment the site loaded.
"Wow... subtle," she muttered, taking in the neon colors, endless scrolling thumbnails, and the flood of categories that ranged from "mildly kinky" to "how is this legal?"
Tags like:
"Monster Girl"
"Thighjob"
"Hypnosis"
"Tentacle Massage"
"Futa"
"Pmv captions"
"Derpixon"
"Jackerman"
"Nyl"
"Sissy"
"Marvel Rivals"
"BWC"
"BBC"
And many more...
"Tentacle... massage?" Mina blinked, then laughed. "Okay, now I have to see what kind of freaky shit people are into."
Her initial scroll was filled with amused snorts and raised eyebrows.
Some thumbnails were hilarious like a girl getting railed by a literal octopus wearing a top hat.
Some were... well, she quickly learned to avoid anything labeled "vore" or "inflation".
"Nope. Nope. Definitely nope."
But then halfway down the page a different kind of thumbnail caught her eye.
It wasn't monsters, or aliens, or whatever bizarre crossover she'd just skipped past.
This was... oddly normal. Well, normal by hentai standards.
A sharply drawn blonde woman hair up in a messy bun, thick rimmed glasses perched low on her nose, a clipboard in hand like she was about to diagnose someone. Her white blouse strained to contain a pair of cartoonishly large breasts, buttons threatening to pop. Kneeling beside a couch, she looked both professional and sinfully inviting.
Behind her sat a guy nervous, flushed, with dark brown hair and the most obvious bulge in his pants Mina had ever seen in a animated video before.
The poor bastard looked like he wanted to disappear.
The title floated beneath it in bold, playful letters:
"Urgent Care: The Therapist's Hands On Method."
Mina stared at it for a second. Then burst out laughing.
"No. No, they didn't..."
But god, of course they did.
Her finger hovered over the trackpad.
She should've clicked away found something else to waste her time on. But instead, she tilted her head, that devilish grin creeping back onto her lips.
"Okay... this I gotta see."
The screen faded to black.
Then came the soft, velvety voice low, controlled, and dripping with the kind of calm confidence that made your skin prickle.
"After months of uncontrollable arousal, Stefan seeks out help from Belgrade's most unconventional therapist..."
Mina raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Unconventional, huh? We'll see about that."
The scene opened with a gentle fade in, revealing a spacious office bathed in warm afternoon light. Tall windows with sheer curtains allowed golden beams to spill across polished wooden floors. Bookshelves towered along the walls, filled with thick volumes whose titles hinted at psychology, anatomy... and a few spines that looked suspiciously like they belonged in the adult section.
A sleek leather couch sat angled in the center of the room too pristine to have seen much actual therapy. A matching armchair faced it, beside a mahogany desk neatly organized with papers, a notepad, and a single crystal bottle of water.
And standing stiffly just inside the door was Stefan.
Even animated, he radiated awkward tension tall and lean, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he shifted from foot to foot. His cheeks were flushed, dark hair falling over his brow as he kept his gaze low. But there was no hiding the obvious problem his jeans tented obscenely, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, twitching ever so slightly.
Mina smirked, settling deeper into her couch.
She reached for her water bottle, eyes never leaving the screen. "Poor guy's about to get so analyzed." Ahahhaha.
Stefan's voice broke the silence soft, hesitant.
"I I read the reviews... They said you were discreet."
The camera panned to the desk, where Dr.Petra sat legs elegantly crossed, pen poised between her fingers, glasses perched low on her nose. Her blonde hair was swept into a loose bun, a few strands falling artfully around her sharp features. The pristine white blouse she wore struggled to contain her exaggerated curves, the top buttons undone just enough to hint at black lace beneath.
Her lips curved into a professional yet undeniably predatory smile.
"Of course, Stefan," she replied smoothly, her voice like silk sliding over skin. "Discretion is part of my practice. This is a safe space."
She gestured gracefully to the couch, her eyes glinting behind her glasses.
"Why don't you have a seat and tell me... exactly what's been troubling you?"
Mina felt it then the shift.
It wasn't just funny anymore.
Something about the way Dr.Petra spoke, the way she watched Stefan not with mockery, but with calculated curiosity made a subtle heat stir in Mina's belly.
She licked her lips unconsciously and leaned forward, eyes glued to the unfolding scene.
Stefan sat down gingerly, keeping his hands in his lap to cover himself. His posture was stiff, shoulders tense, as if afraid that any movement would make things worse.
Petra didn't speak right away.
Instead, she observed him her gaze slow and methodical, sliding from his flushed face to the nervous tapping of his foot, then lingering just a little too long on the bulge he was failing to hide.
She clicked her pen.
"Let's start with some basic questions, hmm?" she said, crossing one leg over the other, her heel dangling from her foot. "How long have you been experiencing... this condition?"
Stefan swallowed hard. "A f few weeks, maybe longer..."
Petra nodded, jotting something down on her notepad though Mina swore she saw the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth.
"And when did you first notice it becoming... unmanageable?"
Stefan shifted uncomfortably. "It started small. Morning wood lasting longer than normal. Then random... you know..." His voice trailed off, too embarrassed to say it.
Petra's smile widened just enough to be noticeable.
"Erections, Stefan. It's important to be precise in therapy."
Mina let out a soft laugh, her thighs instinctively pressing together. "Damn, she's good..."
Stefan's blush deepened. "Y Yeah... erections."
