WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual activity and rough sex. If that offends you, please move on and read something else. There is something for everyone on Literotica.
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"Deep therapy," also known as depth therapy or depth psychotherapy, is a therapeutic approach that focuses on exploring the unconscious mind and its influence on current thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, aiming to uncover and address underlying issues.
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Chapter 1: The Line Crossed
Psychologist Clementine Hastings seeks solitude at her cabin in the eastern Sierra, south of Lake Tahoe. There, she is confronted by Alden Grimshaw, one of her patients with an obsessive fixation on her. She impulsively ignores her professional obligations and Clementine is drawn into a forbidden and passionate relationship, blurring the lines between her professional responsibilities as a therapist and her personal sexual needs.
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The late afternoon sun hung low in the Sierra Nevada sky, casting a golden hue over the treetops of the dense pine forest surrounding the cabin. Smoke from the smoldering fire in the stone fireplace still billowed from the chimney outside, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of burning mesquite.
The smoke, mingling with the air outside, which was crisp, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Clementine Hastings, known to her friends as Clemmy, stood on the porch of her recently deceased parents cabin, her bare feet sinking into the weathered wood.
Alone at the cabin, she wore a flimsy linen robe, its belt loosely tied around her waist, her auburn hair cascading in loose waves down her back. The cool breeze felt good against her skin.
She was alone, at peace. Clementine eschewed clothing whenever possible, much preferring the sense of freedom that nudity provided her.
The cabin, nestled deep in the forest near Markleeville, south of Lake Tahoe, was her sanctuary...a place where she could escape the weight of her self-imposed celibacy and the relentless demands of her work as a psychologist. It was a place where she could quietly think without distractions.
Clementine sighed, her green eyes scanning the quiet forest that surrounded her. She hadn't been here in months, and the cabin felt different this time. It was quieter, lonelier.
Her parents had passed recently within a couple of months of each other and left it to her after their deaths, and though it held memories of happier times, it also carried the weight of their absence. She'd come here to recharge, to escape the chaos of her life in the city, and to confront the growing restlessness within her.
Six months of celibacy had left her on edge. Clementine prided herself on her self-control, on her ability to compartmentalize her personal desires and her professional goals, but lately, the tension had been building.
Clementine specialized in dealing with sexual disorders and she often found herself working with patients in mental institutions and with inmates in the California and Nevada corrections systems. It was demanding work, carrying with it many challenges, but it was her personal life...or lack thereof...that was really taking a toll on her psyche.
The last few months of celibacy had been her bold attempt to deal with her self-diagnosed condition, sexual addiction. For years she had been promiscuous in her personal life. And she had decided to go cold turkey after some disastrous recent experiences.
But several months into this new regime, she found herself missing the touch of another person, the warmth of a body pressed against hers, the release of uninhibited sex, be it with a man or another woman.
But she refused to let herself fall into old destructive patterns. One-night stands were easy, but they left her feeling hollow inside. She craved something deeper, something real, though she wasn't sure she'd ever find it.
As she turned and went back into the cabin, a sound caught her attention. A snap of a large twig on the forest floor, faint but distinct, coming from the edge of the clearing in front of the cabin, near the stream that meandered across the clearing. Clementine froze, just inside the door, her heart quickening as she listened intently.
The cabin was remote and visitors were rare. The hundred and fifty year old hunting cabin was off the grid, the only power coming from a gas operated electrical generator that she operated only when necessary.
She still used the same old-fashioned oil lamps that her family had used at the cabin for generations. There were no phone lines nor cell service either.
Because of her isolation, she listened even more closely for the source of the sound at the edge of the forest. She hadn't told anyone she was here, save for her assistant. Who could it be?
The twig that had snapped was too large to have been produces by a small forest creature, and anything large enough to have produced the sound potentially represented danger.
"Hello?" she called out, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her chest.
The trees rustled, and a figure emerged. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a familiar gait. Clementine's breath caught in her throat as she recognized him. Alden Grimshaw. Her patient.
The man who'd been sitting across from her in therapy sessions for the past year, pouring out his struggles with anxiety, his obsessions, his inability to connect with others.
Alden stopped a few feet away, his eyes locked on hers. He looked different outside the sterile confines of her office...less guarded, more intense. His dark hair was unkempt, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He wore a worn leather jacket and jeans, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, as if he didn't know what to do with them.
"Clemmy," he said, his voice low and rough. "I knew I'd find you here."
Her mind raced. How had he found her? Had he followed her? The thought sent a chill down her spine. She knew Alden's obsessions ran deep, but this...this was crossing a line.
"Alden," she said, forcing calm into her tone. "What are you doing here?"
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I had to see you. I've been thinking about you, Clemmy. Every day, every night. I just can't stop."
Her pulse quickened. This was dangerous. She was his therapist, not his confidante, and certainly not his girlfriend. Not definitely not his lover.
But there was something in his gaze, something raw and desperate, that tugged at her. She'd always prided herself on her ability to remain professional, to keep her boundaries intact, but Alden had a way of slipping past her defenses.
Alden stood mesmerized by her beauty. He had followed her to Markleeville and had been watching her from the treelined since she arrived. He had watched her sunning her body nude on the deck below the porch, captivated by her stunning body
Clementine was a striking beauty with auburn hair that cascades in loose waves down her back, framing her face. Her green eyes were captivating, with a hint of mischief and intelligence.
At five foot nine and one hundred twenty-five pounds, she had a voluptuous figure with eye-catching measurements of 38-25-36, filling out a DD cup bra if she bothered to wear one.
