Authoress's notes: The following story is a sequel to my story MC at the Dog Pound. It's one of my earlier works, so all you need to know is that Dave Smith can only control women's minds, and it takes him a bit of time to do it. This story is inspired my Marlissa's story The Practice in particular and most of Downing Street's works in general. Please read and enjoy all of my stories, vote me a 5, and feel free to leave me feedback on my profile.
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Dave Smith gazed out over the sparkling waters of the bay from the balcony outside his thirty-first floor office. Life was great. He had a very unique gift—the ability to control the minds of women—which had helped make him a very wealthy man over the years. He owned a twenty-five hundred square foot luxury condo in one of the most exclusive buildings in the metro area, right on the bay, just a few blocks from his office.
He had about ten million dollars invested in the stock market, and nearly a hundred rental properties throughout the country that earned him a little over a hundred grand a month, after expenses. His investments were managed by a Wharton graduate. She wasn't super attractive, but she was very good, which was more important when it came to his money. He also owned several high-end luxury cars, a yacht, and a small adult-orientated production company.
A few months ago he had ran across Doctor Katherine Parker at an upscale nightclub. After chatting with the good doctor a while, he got the idea to join her in her work. Katherine, or Kitty Kat, as he called her now, was a psychiatrist with a lucrative practice listening to rich people whine about their problems.
It wasn't too much trouble for Dave to convince Kitty Kat to let him take a few of her clients. He even came up with a couple of fake diplomas to display on his office wall.
Of course he didn't try to treat anyone with an actual mental illness. He just had Kitty Kat give him some of her more attractive female clients with lesser problems. He repaid her by convincing her to spend more time in the gym, and dress quite a bit more sexy. These days she happily wore tight tops, miniskirts, and high heels to the office, and even less away from it. Her male clients seemed to appreciate that quite a bit.
Dave also greatly increased her clientele by having all of his patients enthusiastically recommend the practice to their rich friends. Ironically, he had discovered he was practically a miracle worker when it came to stuff like getting women to lose weight. He was able to make them focus completely, even to the point of obsession, on giving it their all in the gym on a daily basis, and eating only the healthiest of foods until they hit their ideal weight.
"Doctor Smith, Mrs. White is here to see you," his assistant's cheerful voice said over the intercom.
His personal assistant was also his valet, maid, and whatever else he needed her to do, including frequent sex. She had been a college student he had found on the beach about ten months ago. She looked fantastic in a bikini, and even better out of it—especially with the double-D implants he had gotten her. Like Doctor Parker, she favored tight tops, tiny minis, and towering stiletto heels at work—and away from it. She was also an expert cock sucker.
"Thank you Mandi," he answered. "You can send her in."
"Yes Doctor Smith," she replied obediently.
Dave rose from behind his desk, and greeted his client between the black leather couches he used to treat his patients. Megan White was in her mid-thirties, with chin-length brown hair cut in the latest style. She was a few pounds overweight, but hid it well underneath her designer suit and heels. She was a marketing planner or something, and was paying three hundred dollars an hour for his services.
Doctor Parker had originally quoted her a price of one-fifty an hour. After Mrs. White's first session with her though, Kitty Kat had transferred her to him. After Mrs. White's first session with him, she agreed pay more for the privilege of letting him make her into a better woman. Most of Doctor Parker's clients paid around one hundred to one-fifty an hour, while he charged around two-fifty to three hundred, depending on how much they could pay, and how much he liked them to start with. He didn't let a few measly dollars get in the way of a making a few adjustments to a woman, though.
"Mrs. White," Dave said, shaking her manicured hand.
"Doctor Smith," she answered.
They settled down onto the couches, with the coffee table between them. Dave glanced at his notes, which were on an iPad. This was Megan's third visit with him. She was looking for help with stress, mostly from work. The last two weeks he had given her a few tips; now he wanted to see how they were working out.
Normally Dave saw a client for an hour or so on the first visit. That was always plenty of time to get into their head and take control of their mind. After that he would only see them for fifteen or twenty minutes a session to see how the changes he had made were going, and make any more he wanted.
Of course he would still charge them for the full hour, which they didn't mind, not that they had any choice in the matter. Some days he managed to bill six or seven hours worth of work, even though he was never in the office before nine, and most days he was gone by two.
Every single woman that found her way onto his couch left a little closer to what he thought a woman should be. Virtually all began spending more time in the gym, and on their appearance in general. They always became more accommodating towards the men in their lives, and Doctor Smith himself. If they didn't have a man, finding one quickly became an obsession. Actually finding a different man on a regular basis usually became an obsession.
"So Megan, have you been doing what I've suggested when you feel stressed at work?" Dave asked her.
"Um, yes, Doctor," she answered, somewhat embarrassingly.
The marketing planner had certainly dressed more eye-pleasing today. Her Gucci mini stopped several inches above her knees, and her top displayed a bit of her modest breasts. Her Prada heels looked at least three-and-a-half inches high.
"And how did it go?" he asked her, eyeing her stockinged legs. She had been pretty bitchy when he'd first met her, so he'd given her a bit harsher set of instructions than he gave most women the first time.
"I gave eight blow jobs to six different coworkers since last week," she explained, looking down in shame.
Dave smiled. That was more than one a day, and to six men. She was well on her way to being the office slut, if she wasn't already. Now he had to push her along.
"Good. Now I want you to keep flirting with all the men in your office. Let them know that you'd be happy to give them a quick suck anytime during the workday. It doesn't matter if they're married or not. All they have to do is ask."
Megan looked up in shock, then silently nodded her head in obedience.
"And start dressing more like a slut. Does your office have a dress code?"
She numbly nodded her head in consent.
Dave rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Dress as sexy as you can without breaking it. Make your boss tell you when you've gone too far. Only wear skirts, no longer than mid-thigh. Your tops should be tight too."
Megan squeezed the armrest as she nodded her head again.
"All your shoes should have at least five inch heels. Practice in them as much as you can until you're walking a like a pro. Then move up to six inchers. Go online to get tips on how to walk like a stripper on the prowl."
"Yes Doctor," the marketing planner replied.
Dave thought about having her spend more time in the gym, to look better for the men in her life, but decided that could wait until next week. Sometimes when he tried to do too much at once some stuff didn't stick right.
"Now, get out of here, and get yourself some real shoes. Confirm your next appointment with Mandi on the way out," he instructed her.
"Yes Doctor, thank you," Megan White answered, rising to her feet.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Recently Dave had run into a city councilwoman and a city auditor at a local restaurant. After chatting with the two ladies a bit, he decided that he and Kitty Kat would offer the city discounted counseling services. While Dave didn't really care one way or the other about city bureaucrats, he did like women in uniform. Doctor Parker could deal with the city employees with real problems, while he would get to have some fun with the city's policewomen and any other sexy civil servants.
Today Dave was seeing a female police officer who had shot some drug dealer in the line of duty. She couldn't return to work until he or Doctor Parker signed off on her mental well-being. Kitty Kat had already decided she was okay to go back to work, but he had left standing orders to see all policewomen that came into the office.
Officer Kayla Miller was twenty six years old, and looked to be about five-seven, and around a hundred and thirty-five pounds or so, with short reddish hair. She was wearing a simple dressy pants-suit, with boring flats. Her badge was partially visible on her left hip, along with her gun in its holster on her right.
"So Officer Miller, I understand you had to use your firearm in the line of duty," he began once they had settled down. "Do you want to talk about that a bit?"
