"I'm sorry," Doctor Beckham said, his tone betraying a certain amount of disbelief buried carefully under mounds of patience. "But I'm afraid I don't quite understand. This sounds like it might be a matter for a therapist of some sort? Perhaps a couples counselor for you and this 'Jacob'? If you feel as though he's exerting an unhealthy amount of influence over your behavior, then we can certainly get you help, but it doesn't sound like it's a medical issue."
Even though Cheryl came into the office expecting pretty much exactly that response, it nonetheless hurt to hear it. She didn't even know anymore how many times she'd tried to explain the problem, only to be met with the same bemused condescension. And of course, if she got angry or upset or let any of her frustration show even a little, that only confirmed their snap diagnosis that they were dealing with an 'irrational' woman who needed therapy, and not...not...not whatever the fuck she did need. She tried to control her voice as she said, "No. It's not something a couples counselor can help with. Jacob and I aren't even a couple."
Doctor Beckham blinked. He furrowed his brow in such obvious confusion that Cheryl could practically picture the gears grinding inside his skull. "I beg pardon," he said at last, clearly picking his way through a verbal minefield. "But you said that you lived in this man Jacob's home. That you were having regular sexual intercourse with him. Is that no longer ongoing, or...?" He trailed into silence, as if unsure which path would take him safely to the end of the sentence and not wanting to risk a misstep.
Cheryl squirmed in what she hoped Doctor Beckham would see as discomfort. Her hand twitched subliminally, a brief flicker of almost imperceptible motion as the words 'sexual intercourse with him' triggered a spasmodic urge to masturbate while picturing Jacob's cock where her fingers were. She forced it aside. "N-no," she said, staring at the floor so that her long chestnut hair waterfalled over her face and hid her blush. "He's still fuh...I'm still his..." The heat in her pussy kept building as she struggled frantically to find a way to describe her sex life that didn't set off any of the suggestions in her head. "It's still ongoing," she said at last. "But it's not. Um. It's not intentional. It's the word again."
Cheryl looked up through the strands of her hair as Doctor Beckham scratched his head in comically obvious bewilderment. "That's the second time you've mentioned Jacob's, um, word. I'm really not sure I'm quite understanding you. Is it some sort of, of hypnotic trigger? I'm afraid hypnosis isn't really my field, but I know some excellent therapists who specialize in it. They could possibly help remove any unwanted suggestions that-"
"No!" Cheryl was uncomfortably aware that she was failing all of her 'keep calm and describe your symptoms' test. She made herself speak at a normal volume, even though it made her sound like she was strangling herself ever so slightly. "It is not hypnosis. Hypnosis doesn't do the things that Jacob's word does. It's more like, like..." She sighed. This was always the hardest bit, describing the actual effect in a way that made sense and didn't make her play with herself. "It's like the word makes a shape in the air, right? An invisible shape, but a real one."
Her eyes went a little bit distant as she tried to come up with a way to convey something that even she didn't believe the first time Jacob told her about it. "And that shape, it's not like any of the other shapes that we make when we push air out through our mouths. It's not like he's just saying 'obey' or 'sleep' or 'listen to me'." He said those words too, sometimes. After Cheryl heard the word the first time, after it sank into her brain all the way and she surrendered to its power, she found herself susceptible to all of them. But it was more than just a command.
"I don't know how he found out about it, maybe it was in an old book somewhere or maybe he just studied sounds and their effect on the human brain. But when he says it, and you hear it, that wave hits your eardrum and it vibrates in the shape of the word. And it travels up into your brain, and it...unlocks something. I'm not sure how to describe it. But it does something, physically does something to your brain to make you more, more..."
There were so many words Cheryl had learned to describe what the word did to her. Jacob had used them all, and he had programmed her to associate every single one of them with helpless pleasure. Docile, compliant, complacent, unthinking, accepting, malleable, obedient, submissive, pliable, tame, placid, yielding, open...
