The Psychologist

"What do you think about spank therapy?"

It was an honest question directed to my psychologist in the middle of my therapy session. Well, mostly honest, anyway.

Brenda had multiple college degrees and certificates of specialty in her field, and a chest to die for. I could tell even though she kept it well hidden in colorful, printed, oversized shirts that she tucked into full, ankle-length skirts. Whenever she would move, even slightly, the front of her shirt would move and rotate, revealing in no uncertain terms the substantial cargo her bra was securing.

Deep down, I guess I was a tit guy - could that be part of the reason I was in therapy? Just to be able to glimpse what was under that shirt...

She was medium height, with brown hair and eyes, and tan features highlighting her smallish nose, warm smile, and two dimples that appeared with the smile. I had never seen her legs which were always covered by those ankle-length skirts, but when she sat down, she would often put her arms together and pull them down between her legs. The skirt would then be pulled between her legs and her petite ankles and bare feet would be exposed. She always removed her sandals at the beginning of each session. I wondered if she had removed her panties as well. Sometimes her feet would be tucked up under her skirt as she questioned, pondered, and worked her therapeutic expertise on those of us with issues.

"So, how have you been, Kyle," she asked at the beginning of each hour-long session. As usual she began her questions focused on the events and feelings I experienced since the last session.

"Oh, I'm good. Just the same ole' things. You know," I answered with the usual generalities to see where this session would be directed. And, as always, I was surreptitiously watching her chest.

This time I added to my answer.

"I felt kind of funny this past week."

"How do you mean?" she probed.

"Well, I don't quite know how to describe it."

"Was it a good feeling?"

"Yeah, I think so. At least it could end up that way."

She scrunched her face indicating she didn't understand what that meant and asked "Do you mean that it was a bad feeling that could turn into a good feeling?" She moved and I watched her tits sway under her shirt.

"Not really. It was all good, but could be a lot better."

"O.K., Kyle. You're going to have to be more specific. Just what was the feeling?"

"Uh... I was horny," I said quietly.

"Excuse me. What did you say?"

"I was horny."

"You mean you felt like you wanted to have sex?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"All week?"

"You mean 'Was I horny all week?' " I asked, then answered my own question. "Yeah, all week."

It seemed as if she blushed slightly, cleared her throat, shifted back in her chair, and looked down at her note pad trying to regain some of her composure.

"Uh... Well, that's normal. I mean, you are a young man, probably in the prime of your... Ah... Your... You know, when those things are important."

She made this statement, but asked no follow up question as she almost always did. She seemed a little flustered at the direction the conversation had turned.

At our first session she had me sign the "everything is non-sexual" clause, but curiously, she said early on that we could talk about anything, anything at all. So I thought that "anything at all" actually meant "anything at all."

"I'm horny now," I stated.

She looked at me where I was sitting on the leather sofa. She squirmed a little in her chair and that shirt moved some more. I guess she was trying to think of a question to ask. That's when I asked my question.

"What do you think about spank therapy?"

"Uh... Excuse me. What did you say?"

"I said 'What do you think about spank therapy?' Do you think that there could be some therapeutic value in the exercise?" I threw in that big word - therapeutic - just for the effect.

"Uh... Well, I never... I mean, that wasn't in any of my training."

"But, you think it might be worth trying, right?" I opened the possibility for her.

"Well, I suppose we could..."

"Why don't we try it to see if it will help me with my issues? You want to help me, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. That's why I'm here. For you."

"And if something works, it's worth it, right? Isn't that what you told me at the beginning? 'We won't know where this will take us, but you'll be better when we're done.' Didn't you say something like that?"

"Yes, of course. During therapy a patient's thoughts and feelings are exposed and they are discussed on the path to health."

"Yeah, right. That's what I thought you said. O.K. Now, get over here."

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'Get over here.' This not a solitary exercise. It's going to take two to make this happen."

"You mean over to the sofa?"

"That's exactly what I mean," I tried to be authoritative.

"Uh... I don't think that would be appropriate for me to -"

"Dr. Brenda, you want to help me. And if this will help, you have a professional obligation to do it. Now, get over here." I freed her of her uncertainties and gave her orders all at the same time.

"Uh... Oh... Uh...Well, I guess so," she said, but didn't move.

"Put your pad down," I instructed. "Stand up and get over here."

She looked directly at me as I gave her instructions. Somehow our roles had reversed and she wasn't quite sure what to do. However, I was perfectly willing to walk her through this.

She got up and I could see her tits sway under her shirt. My cock responded.

She put her pad down and walked toward the sofa. As she came over I told her to sit down next to me.

"O.K. This is how this is going to work," I said, again with as much authority as I could muster.

"Get down on your knees and lean onto the sofa," I directed.

"What? You want me to -"

"That's right. Do it now. You want to help me get well, don't you?" I interrupted her.

"Yeah, but I thought -"

"Well, that's not the way it works. I'll do the spanking," I kept interrupting.

"Wait just a minute. I don't think that's appropriate -"

"So what should I do? Report to the board that my psychologist refused to use a valid therapeutic technique during my treatment? Huh? Is that what I should do?" I made something up.

"Uh... No... I..."

Clearly she was on the defensive now. I kept going.

"O.K., then. On your knees and put your face on the sofa."

Without further prompting she did it. I immediately put my hand on the middle of her back in a reassuring move, but really to hold her down. I felt her bra strap through her shirt. Her tits are smashed onto the sofa, too, I told myself. God, I wanted to suck on them! That thought went straight to my cock. But, I had to keep focused. Focus, Kyle, focus.

"O.K., Brenda," I purposely dropped the 'Dr.' and the associated formality. "We'll start with this and see where it goes."

Without hesitating, I smacked her on the butt through her skirt. She yelped and jumped.

"Settle down now. If you're jumping around, this won't work," I told her, again making it up as I went.

I smacked her again, this time a little harder. I didn't remove my hand immediately, but left it on her butt for a split second feeling her firm ass. Nice.

"I think I'm beginning to feel a little better," I said to encourage her and popped her again, harder this time.

I thought I heard a soft moan from her. I looked down and her eyes were closed. My cock was almost all hard now.

I hit her butt again and again and then rubbed her ass cheeks in small circles. Definitely a moan this time. I kept her pushed down with my hand on her back.

"Brenda, it's beginning to feel good, don't you think?"

"Uhhhhhhh..." softly. She was on her way.

One more hard swat, then I reached down, grabbed the hem of her skirt, and flipped it up onto her back.

"Noooooo..." she murmured, but made no movement to resist me.

Her entire butt was on display. She was wearing a thong with just a narrow string around her waist and another string that started at her waist and disappeared between her perfect butt cheeks. Slightly red butt cheeks by now. Her toned thighs and calves were perfectly proportioned, nice ankles, and the tops of her feet were flat on the carpet with her soles up. Her knees were slightly apart and I was full hard. I adjusted myself in my pants.

Without waiting for her to object, I began a slow, rhythmic swatting of her butt, first one side, then the other. I could now hear a clear "Ugh..." after each swat. I felt her increased breathing from my hand firmly on her back.

After about 10 swats I stopped and softly rubbed her butt cheeks, which were now redder. I let my hand slip down to the inside of her thighs and slowly brought my fingers to her crotch and traced the thong string up between her butt cheeks.

"Oh, my..." I heard her say and she moved her knees farther apart.

I remembered the "everything is non-sexual" clause I had signed, so, good guy that I am, I didn't check out her pussy which was available to me just mere inches from my hand. No, I had something different planned for today.

"Brenda, I think I'm even feeling a little more better. I think this might be working!" I said enthusiastically. "But, I think a little more therapy is needed..."

I swatted her left cheek pretty hard "Ugh...", then her right cheek "Ugh...", left cheek "Ugh...", right cheek "Ugh...". I continued to punish her butt cheeks with multiple hard swats. They were approaching bright red now. She was almost panting as I felt her back rise and fall with each hard breath.

Finally I stopped swatting and gently rubbed her butt for a few minutes as her hard breathing slowed down to almost normal.

"O.K., Brenda. That's enough therapy for today." I pulled her skirt back down and took my hand off her back.

"You may get up and return to your chair." I gave her permission.

She didn't move for a few seconds. Then she pushed herself up off the sofa and, carefully avoiding looking at me, walked over to her chair and sat down.

With her hands in her lap, she now looked up at me with a longing, almost yearning look. She was rubbing her legs together under that long skirt.

The spank therapy had apparently worked. Her professional persona had definitely disappeared. She was waiting for me to give her the next instruction. At least that what I presumed she was waiting for, so I did.

"Brenda," I said clearly. "Do you want to touch yourself?"

She didn't respond, but just looked at me more intensely. I asked again.

"Do you want to play with yourself?"

Her look slowly changed to benign acceptance and she quietly nodded her head.

"O.K. Go ahead," I gave her permission.

She continued looking straight at me as she brought her feet up under her skirt, placing the soles of her feet together, and spreading her knees. With her left hand she lifted up the edge of her skirt and moved her right hand beneath it. Only her right knee was exposed as she slowly moved her right hand farther under her skirt and closer to her pussy. Then her right arm began to move back and forth. She moaned and her expression changed to the beginning of sexual pleasure. She was breathing harder again and I could tell she was rubbing her pussy.

She kept up her movements for a few minutes and then dipped her hand farther under her skirt, groaned, and thrust her hips up, once - "Uhh..", twice - "Uhh..", three times - "Uhh..". She closed her eyes and grimaced, biting her lower lip. Her breathing was hard and ragged now with her chest moving up and down. She put her left hand under her skirt, readjusted her right hand, and moaned "Uhhhhhhhh..." I imagined her sinking her fingers into her steamy cunt. She took her left hand out and roughly grabbed her tits through her shirt.

With her eyes still closed, she threw her head back, and opened her mouth for more air. Her left hand was squeezing and pinching her tits, her hips were thrusting up and down causing her skirt to slip up toward her waist, exposing both her legs, and her right hand was moving faster, matching each thrust of her hips. She moved her feet apart and placed them flat on the chair seat for more traction. I could see her hand was inside her thong.

"Oh, yeah... Oh, yeah... Oh, yeah... Yeah... Yeah... Uhh... Uhh... Uhh..." she groaned and moaned as she kept this up for a couple of minutes.

Then, "There... There... Right there... Oh, yes... Yes... Yes... Oh, yes... Fuck!"

She brought her head forward, opened her eyes, looked straight at me, and came hard.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, my god! Oh, damn! Oh, Kyley! Damn! Oh, yeah!" She was sliding off her chair and put her feet down flat on the rug and put her left hand under her skirt. She pulled both hands up to her pussy in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle the involuntary spasms as they racked her body hard.

As I watched this bitchin' hot scene unfold right before my eyes, I could hardly resist getting my cock out and joining her. Instead, I shifted on the sofa and watched her watch me as I adjusted my hard cock in my pants.

"Uhh... Uhh... Uhh..." as she finally unwound and came down.

We said nothing as she sat back up in her chair, pulled her skirt back down, adjusted her shirt, and reached over for her pad. Her face was flushed and, after sitting there for a minute, she looked up at me.

"I feel a lot better now," I broke the silence and announced. "That therapy must have worked. We'll have to try it again next session."

"Kyle, this just... I don't think -" she managed to say.

"Dr. Brenda," I interrupted forcefully and reestablished the professional formality. "I feel better. The therapy worked. I don't think we can stop doing something that is working, now, do you?"

I repeated, "DO YOU?"

"No, I guess not," she said somewhat meekly.

"O.K., then. Count on it. I see my time is up. I'll go now and be back next week at the same time. Thank you, Dr. Brenda. Have a good week," I said, terminating the session.

I got up, gathered my things, walked over to the door, and glanced back at her. She was staring straight ahead with a blank look on her face, as if she wondered what or how this could have happened. Then a slight smile escaped her lips.

I opened the door and left, wondering what her pussy tasted like and how I could get access to her marvelous tits.

One thing I knew for sure - I needed to get some more spank therapy.