. 02

From The Case Files of Dr. Randall Herringwick

The Case of the Devil's Advocate

Chapter Two - Divided and Conquered

CASE FILES - PERSONAL NOTES - PATIENTS 333 & 334 - DAY ONE (CONTINUED)

Somewhere in the back of my alcohol-impaired mind, I knew that this was wrong. I was violating ethical and moral obligations toward my two newest patients' rights of confidentiality simply because I was enjoying the type of grandstanding that I did as a university professor two days a week. Teaching can be an intoxicating profession, even without chemical stimuli. My excuse, of course, was being provided by all of those around me, including my adorable wife and the patients themselves (though there was no doubt that the couple on the couch was being manipulated hypnotically). Sigh. Enough excuses. On with our tale.

"Terry," I said in my most professional tone of voice, "I'd like to ask you some very personal questions. You have asked for my help, and so it's important that you answer these queries, no matter how delicate they might be. You know what's at stake here, don't you? Tell me what's at stake, Terry."

"Lily's wellbeing is at stake. Yes, I will answer your questions, no matter the privacy issues."

"You love your wife very much, don't you?"

"Oh, God, yes. More than anything. More than life itself."

"Just ignore me until you hear your name again, please. Lily, can you hear me?"

"Yes, doctor."

"How long have you known of Terry's little problem about having to think of you with other men in order to achieve sexual satisfaction?"

"He told me all about it before we got married... before we even had sex. He told me everything. It all has to do with a girl he dated in college. Do you want to know what it was?" she shivered slightly and shifted again on the sofa. "It's really pretty hot, when you think about it."

"No, that's okay. You don't have to explain. Do you keep any secrets from Terry, Lily? Is there anything about yourself that you don't want him to know?"

She kept her eyes closed but shook her head so firmly that her braided hair slung over her right shoulder and onto her lap. "I tell my husband everything! Everything! I even told him what happened to me this afternoon! I told him all of it! I would never keep a secret from him!"

I nodded to myself. Okay, I would continue. I didn't think anything would present itself that was TOO outside the boundaries of people's randy imaginations. I got up, walked to a side table, and took my recorder out of a drawer. Checking it, I discovered it still had space for almost three hours of recording time, and plenty of battery charge. Walking back, I set it on the floor between my chair and couch. Then I resumed my seat. I would ask Loretta to transcribe it later.

BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION FROM AUDIO - NOVEMBER 12th - 11:12 PM

HERRINGWICK

Terry and Lily, I would like you to listen very carefully to my instructions. From this point on, you will continue to respond to my questions only when I preface them using your name. However, you will also be able to listen to the responses from your spouse. You will hear, and you will listen, but you will not interrupt, and you will not comment unless I ask you about it. You will remain completely detached and clear-headed about what you hear. There is no reason for emotions or arguments. There is only a need for listening and understanding. If, during the course of our conversation, you hear any other voices, you will know that they are unimportant to you, and you will not be able to discern what is being said. The same is true about my voice, unless I preface a comment or question with your name. Do you understand this?"

TERRY

Sure.

LILY

Yes, doctor.

HERRINGWICK

Terry, if I am to understand what your problem is... and what Lily's problem is... it would be better to review things in the order in which they happened. We should first go back to the time when this sexual interest started... the desire about being with a woman who was having relations with another man. You know when those feeling started, don't you?

TERRY

Sure. I might be fucked up, but I'm not stupid. I know when it started... and I know why I probably have these feelings. It all began with Bess, an old girlfriend in college. On our second date, she more or less TOLD me that she wanted to have sex. I'd never done it before... and I told her that. But, instead of being upset or impatient by my inexperience, it seemed to really turn her on. She started telling me exactly what to do... where to touch, and stroke and lick. She really took charge; not just with the sex, but with the whole relationship. And, she was almost brutally honest.

She let me know right away that I wasn't as large, equipment-wise, as the other guys that she'd been with. But oddly, that didn't seem to be a big deal with her. Instead, she taught me how to lean forward when I was on top, trying to get as much pressure on her clit as possible. When she was on top, or when she wanted me to take her from behind, or in her ass, she told me how to touch her to bring her maximum pleasure. She wanted to do it every other night, no matter what else was going on: exams, or doing things with other friends, or even her period... nothing else mattered to her as much as sex. She even ordered me to stay at school during Spring Break so we could continue our "schedule."

We were three or four weeks into our lovemaking when she suddenly produced a pair of handcuffs. After she stripped me and rode me to my climax, she forced me to eat her to orgasm, too. She'd done that to me before... asked me to do that after I came inside her. But she'd always made it a request up until then. Now, it was a command. Of course, I never hesitated.

And the next time... the very next time... she brought along another guy. She didn't produce him until I was already stripped and handcuffed, and she'd put me in a chair... ATTACHED to the chair... so that all I could do was sit there helplessly and watch. She introduced us. I'd seen him around campus, but I'd never met him, and I can't even remember his name now. He was a previous boyfriend, she told me, who had been hounding her recently to get back together... at least for a one-night-stand. And, she told me, this was it... this was his night.

He seemed reluctant, at first, doing it in front of somebody else; but soon she had stripped down, naked; and she began to taunt him. "You can have me any way you want me," she told him. "But you have to do it here. You have to do it now." Of course, she DID have an eventual stipulation. "Don't you dare cum until you have made me cry out," she said, menacingly. "You don't have to give me an orgasm, but you have to do it hard enough to make me cry out." And... he did... after a while.

Bess kept up a running commentary the whole time. She'd said it loud enough for me to hear clearly... in fact, all of her words were obviously directed specifically to me. She'd say: "Oh, Terry, he's SO deep inside me... much deeper than you've ever been. He's filling me up SO much!"

But, through it all, it was obvious that HE was the one in charge of the coupling. Eventually, she almost wailed: "Oh, Terry, I wish he would do it harder. I wish he would hurt me. But all I can do is submit to what he's doing. HE'S the one in charge... not like you and me." And he'd just keep on going, his cock a piston, in and out of her, like some kind of human engine that never runs out of fuel. He started out on top; but after a while, he flipped her over and started in from behind, and she'd never resist in the least. Through it all, she kept talking: "He's doing this to me," and "He's doing that to me;" until finally, finally, he seemed to sense his impending end was at hand, and he began getting rougher. I knew... we all knew... that he was only fulfilling her precondition to the coupling; but now, he was pounding her. Hard. She actually seemed to resist giving voice to her pain and degradation, but eventually, she was forced to cry out in screaming, humbling humiliation and supplication.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, panting heap in the center of the bed, and they stayed that way for a long, long time. At last, she simply sighed and said: "Get out Ralph," and he appeared to shrug, despite their position, and he got up and left without another word.

She came to me then, and spent almost a minute getting the handcuffs off of me, because her hands were shaking slightly from her ordeal, and she led me over to the bed and drew me onto its surface. I squirmed a little, because I was lying in a wet spot, but she insisted I stay there as she mounted me. After a while, she bent forward, pressing her breasts into my chest, and she whispered directly into my ear, making me shiver.

"What does it feel like, Terry," she asked. "He was SO much bigger than you, and he stretched me all out. I think he came an awful lot, too. More than you do. It must be like fucking a stick of warm butter." She started nibbling my ear. And, sensing my impending climax, she ordered me... the way she ALWAYS ordered me. "Cum for me, Terry. Cum for me now." And I exploded. Harder than I'd ever cum in my whole life, before or since. No, that's not accurate. Because, I came with Lily tonight, just before we came here, at least as hard as that. And, last Saturday, too, after the devil-worship orgy thing.

HERRINGWICK

Let's keep it all in order, Terry. We'll talk about that later. What happened in your relationship with Bess?

TERRY

It changed. Several times, in fact. A couple nights later, during our next "scheduled" lovemaking, she arrived already full of another man's spunk. She made me touch her the way I knew she liked, getting her closer to her sexual peak, and she touched me too, keeping me sort of on a sexual edge for a long time. And then she told me about the guy she had just been with... what he'd done, what he'd said, what he'd demanded from her. She wanted me to eat her to orgasm, but I refused. That really surprised her; however, she didn't push it... not then, anyway. Finally, she made me mount her, in the missionary position, and she whispered in my ear, telling me how much better the other guy was, until ordering me to cum. When I had, she told me again to use my mouth, and this time, I did, though reluctantly so. Afterwards, when she had recovered from her orgasm, she told me that she wanted to try it with two guys at once.

But, this time, I utterly refused. No, I told her. Absolutely not. That was a line I would not cross. She seemed to study me for a long time after that. But she never said another word about it. She never asked again. I was greatly relieved about that.

Things kept up that way for a little while. Every other night, she would show up, exhausted and dripping from an encounter with another guy. And, she would tell me all about it... every little detail, while keeping us both very close to orgasm until she reached the part about how it felt to have another man cum inside her. About two weeks later, she called up and cancelled our sex for that evening; and she did it again two nights later.

She showed up at my apartment unannounced a few days afterward and told me it was over. She was extremely candid about the whole thing. She had met another man, she said; someone who was even "wimpier" than I was. That was the term she used. But this was the guy, she said. This was the man she was going to marry. She loved him, and she loved controlling him. She could make him do "a-ny-thing." She stretched out the word that way. Then, she told me that she owed it all to me... that she'd never have known what to do if she hadn't tried it all out with me first. She said that I'd really been a wonderful lover, and that she'd never forget me. She shook my hand. And she left.

I threw myself into my studies, and then into my work. I never even asked another girl out on a date until the day I met my wife. I fell for Lily like a ton of bricks, instantly and totally. She couldn't have been any more the opposite of my first lover, even if they'd been created by some design. Lily was meek to the point of almost being helpless. She NEEDED me; needed my guidance and protection and advice. And she seemingly loved me, as well; to the point of agreeing to anything I wanted, anything I desired. On our fourth date, when I told her I wanted her sexually, she simply said yes. I'd already told her that I'd been with a woman before, but that only seemed to excite her all the more about the prospect of surrendering herself to me physically. And it just got better and better. She told me that she'd had a sum total of zero experience with physical love. I later found out that she didn't even know how to masturbate! But I could coax an orgasm out of her almost effortlessly. It was as if she'd been built for sexual excitation; not only mine, but her own. Everything we did gave her pleasure.

My problem didn't really surface until after we were married. It seemed to take me longer and longer to reach my sexual peak, until I finally found myself becoming soft before I could finish. At first, I found I could excite myself by imagining Lily doing what Bess had done: being with another man just before coupling with me. But... Lily is petite, small, in almost all ways. There was no convincing myself she was anything at all like "fucking a warm stick of butter." She was tight and sensual and almost virginal, even after months of sexual pleasure. She, of course, knew there was something wrong. I found that I simply couldn't keep a secret from her.

And, she tried, of course. She would ride me, female superior, and press her wonderful body into my own, and she'd whisper in my ear. "I wonder what it would be like, Terry. Would another man be different? Would another man fill me up more?" And, that did it. For a while. Until..."

HERRINGWICK

Let's leave it there for a minute, Terry. Just relax and be calm for me, please.

TERRY

Okay. Sure.

CHARLIE

Holy crap, Randy! This is... um... really something! I suppose you have a professional term for this, too.

HERRINGWICK

Yes. Troilism, though there are a bunch of different branches on that particular tree. Simple wife-swapping is an example. Or peeping while your significant other is with someone else. In one extreme, there's something as innocent as asking your partner to dress more sexually, so that you can witness the reactions of others. And, of course, at the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the cuckold or cuckquean."

NADIA

Cuckquean?

HERRINGWICK

Don't think for a second that ANY of the things I've mentioned are specific to only one gender. However, I must prepare you for another revelation. I believe we are about to enter into the realm of the common, rather than the abnormal or deviant. As such, we might run out of clinical terms to describe them. I'll explain, when and if we get to that point.

Lily, do you believe that Terry's summation of your sexual situation has been accurate... up until this past week?

LILY

Yes, doctor. We've been married for four months, and it's been getting harder and harder to please him sexually. He ALWAYS pleases me... makes me cum. Every time. Every single time. He makes me explode in bed. So much pleasure for me! But my greatest pleasure of all, making HIM feel that way, is being denied. Up until now, that is. I can do it now. I suppose I have Satan to thank for that. I was raised by the church after my mother died. The nuns wanted me to join their order after I came of age. But now, Satan has...."

HERRINGWICK

Let's put off religious thoughts for now, Lily. I only want to review the facts with you; I want to know what actually happened to you and Terry. Which of you discovered the satanic order?

LILY

It was me, doctor. I was called by an employer here. I do temp work sometimes, cleaning motel rooms. Last Saturday, one of the girls had called in sick, and they wanted me to work. It was a place out on Highway 295, and Terry had to drive me there. I was assigned eight rooms, and given the standard cart. I'd worked there before, and I knew the routine; where the laundry room was, where to get things... like extra pillows when a guest asked for one. I was doing pretty well, I thought, and I'd finished five of the rooms and started in on the sixth, when the guests returned. I asked if they wanted me to keep cleaning, or just to stock the bathroom and coffee and leave them alone. The man said to leave, but the woman told him no, that she wanted me to finish. He just shrugged, and he started using his laptop computer, which was open on the desk. But she watched me, constantly, as I mopped the bathroom floor and replenished the towels. Feeling her eyes on me, I asked her if she wanted something, but she spoke to me sternly: keep working; just pretend she wasn't there, she told me. I blushed and tried to ignore her; but, if anything, her interest in me only intensified as I began stripping the sheets off the bed.

"What about her?" the woman asked.

"What about who?" the man responded, not even looking up.

"Her. The maid."

I stopped and looked at her curiously. I felt my cheeks become flush, and that only intensified as the woman walked to me and reached up to take my chin between finger and thumb, and she elevated my face so that I was forced to look into her serious eyes. "I told you to ignore us," she hissed at me, as if I was a recalcitrant child. "Now, do as you were told and continue with your job."

"I... I... Yes, ma'am," I stuttered, and I took the used sheets to my cart and brought back the clean ones.

Now I felt both of them in my periphery as their eyes bored into me. "I don't understand," the man said, though I could tell he was interested. "She's very pretty, and she's obviously extremely submissive, but what good is she by herself? He told us he needed another couple."

"She's wearing a ring" the woman replied. "It might be worth a shot." She walked over and stood right beside me. I tried to keep working. I really tried. But eventually, I found I couldn't; and, keeping my eyes lowered, I stopped and I stood, my arms by my sides, and waited for her to say something further. She grasped me by the shoulders and turned me to face her. "Look at me, girl," she ordered.

Blushing and reluctant, I did so. "What... What do you want me to do?" I asked a whisper.

"Do you live with your husband?" she asked me.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have either of you ever expressed an interest in wife-swapping?"

It was like the idea hit me... physically hit me! I gasped so loudly that it startled her, but her staring eyes suddenly filled with interest as she observed the thought processes take hold in my mind. Slowly, I turned my head to stare at the man, whom I had tried to patently ignore up to this point. He was large, slightly overweight, and he was balding. But... he was serious-looking, dynamic and in-charge. I resumed eye-contact with the lady, who was still clutching me by the shoulders. "With... with him?" I asked.

She smiled almost evilly. "Oh, he's only of them. There will be others. Several, in fact. You won't even know their names. But, they will all take you... possess you." She let that sink in for a while. "Would you like that?"

My mouth seemed to work for a few seconds before I could make a sound come out. "No, but...."

And she laughed, forcing me to fall silent. I found myself shaking in her grasp. "But HE wants it!" she said. "He wants to be with other women, and you love him so much that...." Then, seemingly staring into my very soul, she corrected herself. "No. He doesn't want other women. He wants to see YOU with other men! Oh, how delicious!" She let go of me, and I simple stood there, my eyes downcast, waiting. I felt humiliated, shy. My pussy was wet and I didn't know why.