Re: Patient 23508
I asked the patient to describe one of the fantasies in question. The following is a transcription from the recorded session. I intend to request descriptions of additional fantasies for further exploration.
---------
I am on a table... on my back. There are women all around the table. Some of them hold my wrists and ankles so that I'm immobilized. I resist but they are too strong. Their faces are expressionless.
The women begin to strip me of my shoes, skirt, blouse... in that order. I put up a terrible fight, kicking and punching, but they overpower me. I am heaving from the struggle. The women pull my stockings off. I am wearing only panties and a bra.
With all my strength, I pull my legs together to prevent them from pulling down my panties. Realizing I must focus on one line of defense, I concentrate on locking my legs together even while the women easily strip me of my bra.
The women double their efforts to pry my legs open. I twist and clench ferociously, but fail to defend my sex. The women pry my legs from their lock and pull free my panties.
More women join the effort to completely immobilize me. I am too exhausted to resist any more. I am spread eagle, naked.
The women shave me below my arms, legs... my private area... everywhere. I am helpless to stop them. I close my eyes as they shave my sex. I cannot face them.
They flip me over onto my stomach to shave the back of my legs and ass. By the time they are done, I am on my back again, hairless from the neck down. I try to break free once more, but they don't let go.
A few of the women step back and away from the table as another woman steps between them. She is the headmistress. The women look down in her presence. She is carrying a pointer type of stick which she uses to inspect my body, poking my breasts, pulling open the lips of my pussy, and running it along my legs. Her look is stern.
She motions and they turn me over. I struggle against them as they rotate me, grunting from effort and frustration. It is no use. Her stick pulls my ass cheeks apart.
They return me to my original position. She inspects my tits one more time. I muster the power to look the headmistress in the eye. She finds this amusing, judging by her wry smile and raised eyebrow. I look away, my face flushing red.
She walks away. The women become busy again. They sit me up. I search for any sign of sympathy. Nothing.
They tie my wrists in cuffs behind my back. I feel even more helpless. They apply mousse to my hair, which they pull tight behind my head. I feel my neck completely exposed.
The women move me off the table. They walk me into another room onto a round platform surrounded by curtains. Standing in the middle of the platform, I hear a muddled sound of voices coming from behind at least one curtain.
There are two half rings on the floor. The women hold my legs and attach separate cuffs to my ankles. Each cuff is attached to one of the rings, pulling my legs slightly apart. When I am secured to the platform beneath me, the women scamper away.
I am left naked, hand cuffed, and basically chained to the floor. I try to imagine some way to cover my tits, my pussy, anything, but there is no way.
The curtains rises, revealing a mixed crowd of forty or fifty men and women. The blood drains from my face. I have nowhere to hide.
They are seated all around the circular platform, which I realize is elevated a few feet. Everyone is wearing a suit or fancy dress.
As I scan the crowd, I see many strangers but also friends and neighbors! Their eyes are fixed on my body. I am mortified.
Worse, I see my husband! I lock my eyes on him, but he is not looking at me. He looks at the paper in his hand and at the crowd. He chats with the person seated behind him. I want to call to him, but I somehow know not to.
The crowd buzzes. I see papers flipping about and hushed conversations. Most keep their eyes on my naked body. This lasts several torturous minutes. My eyes fall to the platform below me. It is too humiliating.
The headmistress reappears. She walks up behind me and stands to my side. A sinking feeling comes over me.
The headmistress is dressed in a long black dress and shiny black heeled shoes. She shows some skin, but her dress and posture stand in stark contrast to my nude vulnerability.
The crowd quiets and their attention turns to the headmistress.
I see her arm come around from her side carrying with it... a small leather whip. She pushes it in front of me for inspection. My eyes widen as it approaches my belly. I am struck by how shiny the black leather is, and how intimidating is its design. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see people jotting down notes. She pulls the whip back and switches hands.
The headmistress speaks.
"Kneel!"
Her words are cold and piercing. Everyone can hear her commanding me to kneel. I imagine the looks on the faces of the people I know, and now I know I cannot face them. But I refuse to be degraded any further.
I hesitate and then shake my head no.
Crack!
I feel the whip land on my ass. It surprises me, and I turn slightly in her direction. But the sting is light, and I return to my position.
Again, notes are taken. I hear the crowd murmuring.
She holds the whip up for me to see again, and then it disappears into her other hand.
"Kneel!"
Same voice. Same tone. Same defiance on my part. I do not hesitate. I shake my head no.
CRACK!
This time, the strike is much stronger. I shift uncomfortably, closing my eyes a second or two while waiting for the sting to pass. She has my attention now, but I won't kneel. NEVER!
She shows me the whip again and then pulls it back.
