DISCLAIMER / CONTENT WARNING:
This is a work of fiction intended for adult entertainment. All characters herein are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
To put it mildly, this work is not intended for consumption by minors and may contain graphic depictions of non-consensual sex and other nasty behaviours. This story is fantasy only. The author does not encourage or condone the hateful and potentially criminal things that are done to women in this story. The activities performed in this fictional work should never be inflicted on people in the real world.
Also, be warned that the story touches on some darker themes of drug addiction, violence and abuse underpinning (though mostly not appearing directly in) the main action.
Preface:
This was originally written as the opener of a sequence of stories outlining the career of a strange kind of gigolo, a "ravisher-for-hire," as told in sessions with a prison psychiatrist who quickly finds herself more than just fascinated by her subject. I find it works almost as well as a stand-alone, though, so further stories may or may not materialize depending on the dictates of time and inspiration. In the meantime, enjoy.
* * *
"Client
John F.
presents as a 38-year-old single African-American male of light complexion and excellent physical condition. Client has been incarcerated at San Gabriel Maximum Security Penitentiary for the past five years, and was transferred to Graves Lodge prison health service center last week for psychological evaluation pending possible parole.
"
John F.
presents as being mentally normal and without significant complaint. However, Client has been accused (though not convicted) of multiple crimes against women including blackmail, kidnapping, impersonation of a police officer, false imprisonment, sexual assault and rape (inclusive of aggravated, premeditated and statutory). Dr. Rice's first evaluations on Client's admittance at San Gabriel showed addiction to drugs, alcohol and especially sex; narcissism; general anxiety disorder; profound misogynistic tendencies and a pathological need to control and dominate others.
"
John F.
however denies experiencing any symptoms of distress or irritability, and denies any recent sexual activity or usage of drugs and alcohol. Client does admit, somewhat wryly, to frequent masturbation and difficulty concentrating when in the presence of women. Despite this, Dr. Rice's last evaluation of Client pronounces him cured of any unusual symptoms and mentally fit for parole. It will be my role to confirm or disconfirm this diagnosis.
"
John F.
's thinking appears clear and linear, and his memory adequate. Affect is affable and personable, and Client is generally focused – often intensely so – but with occasional disruptions in tracking and eye contact. Unusually, Client insists on being addressed as "Dick," in apparent reference to his pre-incarceration "stage name"
Dick Mandingo
, which he claims is a way of connecting himself to and taking responsibility for past acts.
"Assessment will first proceed via narrative treatment. The first order of business is to establish Client's story as he sees it. From there it may be determined whether sufficient data has been gathered to confirm or dispute Dr. Rice's diagnosis. Second session with Client to commence at 11:00 AM of April 14th, 2014."
- From the Case Notes of Dr. Naomi Rivers
* * *
Naomi Rivers walked into her office on the morning of the fourteenth of April with a strange flutter of anticipation in her belly.
The gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old rookie psychiatrist stood five foot five, looking slightly taller in her smart high-heeled pumps, and though her slim-fit black business suit was professional, it also accentuated her curvaceous, well-toned hourglass figure. The tight pencil skirt went only down to mid-thigh, showing off her shapely mile-long nylon-stockinged gams and stretching pleasingly over her plump rear end. The equally tight blazer was buttoned just below the swell of her firm, natural 37C breasts – they were almost D-cups, really – that pushed out against her buttoned-up white blouse and bounced and swayed with her steps despite her bra's best efforts to restrain them.
To see her walk, she was the picture of professional confidence. Her flawless, milky skin shone with health, as did the long, lustrous chestnut tresses gathered and pinned behind her head in a tidy bun. Naomi's finely-chiseled, almost perfectly symmetrical features radiated cool assurance, her light green eyes gleaming alertly as she greeted passersby in the hallways, her glossy pink lips parting in periodic radiant smiles of greeting bestowed on colleagues and support staff alike, revealing nearly-perfect pearly-white dentistry with just a hint – humanizing and actually enhancing her beauty – of crookedness at the incisors.
She was Graves Lodge's newest and hottest hire in every way: inexperienced but, according to her transcripts and letters of reference, incredibly brilliant, the kind of mind the field saw once in a generation. And she felt mostly ready to take on her first case. There was perhaps a tiny nagging trace of self-doubt that had been with her ever since she got the job – she supposed everyone must have the secret fear that the world would find out they didn't really know what they were doing, and she chalked it up to that – but that wasn't the source of that fluttering feeling in her stomach. Nor was it her morning protein shake and cup of yogurt.
No, what was nagging at her, if only subconsciously, was a strange feeling about her first client.
During their introductory interview the Friday previous – which had been brief – she'd been struck by his presence. By everything about him, really. His rugged nearly six-foot frame was powerfully muscled with five years of prison-yard weightlifting. The intensity of his gaze, even or perhaps especially when it had wandered over her feminine curves – as it had done more than once – had been like a heat-lamp. And though she hesitated to admit the word into her consciousness, his beauty had been undeniable: his hair kept in a tidy afro, his beard carefully groomed with touches of silver in it, his features sculpted with a harmonious perfection that almost matched her own but saved from being a pretty-boy by a craggy, once-broken boxer's nose and seams of experience and laughter in his cheeks and around his eyes.
The piercing black pools of his eyes...
... Naomi was a little disturbed by the way her memory tended to linger over details like that. Or not disturbed, exactly – after all, the fact that she was currently single didn't mean she was going to fall for any distractingly handsome man who gave her a smoldering look, especially not a convict – but just a little disquieted. And... she had to admit to herself that she wasn't totally sure why she'd chosen a much shorter skirt today than she'd worn on Friday.
But as she arrived at her office, she decided it didn't matter. It was time to focus on business. "Good morning, Jenna!" she said cheerfully to her young secretary as she sauntered in. "Ready to make a difference?"
"Hi, Doctor Rivers!" Jenna Bond, her glamorous blonde hair styled in waves that fell around an achingly adorable heart-shaped face, gave a smile whose wattage matched her boss's and whose dental perfection was in a class of its own. "Beautiful day!"
