It was not easy for Gemma to get out of the car. Each of the therapy sessions so far were increasingly more challenging but also more addictive than the last. They had started to move away from genuine healthy therapy a few weeks ago and now, she accepted, they were never likely to be healthy again.
The orgasm in his "office" or "surgery" as he called it. That was so stupid of her. It was the event that changed everything and led to all that followed. The front room, 'surgery', of his bright white immaculate bungalow exactly as you imagined it to be. The houses in the area were immaculate and in the middle of a mature estate, she expected a pristine room and it was, was now a place she dreaded. Sitting in her car outside trying to build up the courage to go in she saw him pop to the window as though looking for her. He smiled and waved, and she automatically waved in response, smiling, as though she was keen to see him again.
I should have reported you that first week, that first simple though dubious question of her sexual desires. She answered of course so it was maybe all her fault, she knew that. Though, he had kept asking more and more until she opened up and told him all her shameful secrets. She kept hidden from the world her urges and fantasies all her life. Every shameful thought she had ever had he now knew. Wiping her tears, on automatic pilot, she stepped out of the car and walked up the red stoned pathway to his house. An elderly neighbour looked up, and waving across, as he gardened. She noticed his pristine lawn, only adding to the detachment she felt as she pressed the bell to enter.
"Come in. The door is open." He shouted cheerfully through from his 'surgery'. In a daze, she stepped into his house, his office, his surgery. Taking her coat off and hanging it exactly where he had shown, no told, her to hang it. She also looped her handbag around the hanging hook just exactly as he had trained her to. Leaving the handbag hanging there hit her stomach with a flash of nausea. Her phone inside, the awareness that she could not phone for help if it started again. She knew it would.
It did. Immediately.
He closed the door behind her as she walked in, "Stand in the middle of the room and face the street." His curt opening told her what mood he was in and told her it was going to be a more intense session than the last one.
No welcome. No pretence. No professional therapist now she though. How could he go back there now. After all, she had allowed herself to masturbate in that damned chair opposite him as he watched. The tear she had held in since she got out of her car now arrived and slipped slowly down her face as she faced the window and watched the street.
Not only was he her therapist but her Boss was his brother. That was how she had come to be here. Her Boss had recommended him which meant that he also knew her work environment and friends. Now he also knew about her marriage, her life, her depression and now her sexual needs and urges. If that was not enough, she had allowed herself to trust him and explain that she had met random men for humiliation. Instead of focusing on the mental need for humiliation and her motivations and worries about such meetings he immediately focused on what happened and wanted to know the most intimate details. She told him about the various men, their houses often dark, their cocks, the spankings she had taken, the panties that had been taken from her, the spit, the piss even. Yes, she had told him everything.
He had interrupted her last time to ask the most intrusive and personal question. "Now Gemma," he had said in such a gentle voice, "does telling me these awful things arouse you right now here in my office?".
It was an easy enough question and if the blushing had not told him then sure enough her hesitance did. Though, maybe it was the gentleness in his voice, she confirmed it with the simple nod.
How it had moved from that nod, to more sexualised talk, to more nodding from her, then finally, him saying out loud the most outrageous and shocking thing. As though it was the most normal thing in the world.
"It is ok if you want to touch yourself as you talk." A statement that caused her mind to scream and, worryingly, to feel safer and accepted by him after she had shared so many awful things about her. She felt he was saying it was ok to be her. It was OK to want the things she wanted, and, by inference, she was an OK human being. She needed to know that she yearned to hear it.
How she had moved from nodding to pushing her hand down the front of her trousers, not daring to meet his eyes as she fumbled and managed to push her hand into her panties. Then, again without looking up to meet her eyes, she started masturbating in front of him. Hand down her trousers so he had not seen anything, was what she had clung onto all this past week. But yes, she had masturbated in front of him, and it had changed everything. Standing facing the street she could see two elderly men obviously regular dog walkers chatting across the street. Their laughter her focus when he interrupted her detached with a swift, firm, if not severe, spank to her bottom.
Breath caught. Silence. She stared at the men and did not move. Expecting another strike she just stood in her therapist's office having just been spanked and not saying a thing. Not complaining, not resisting, just standing compliantly as though she had no choice in it at all. No words as yet spoken and already she had followed his instruction and been spanked.
"Do you think you deserved that spank?" he asked.
Even now he managed to exude an air of professional care and compassion. But, she knew, the tears the sign that she knew, this was wrong. Through her tears again she managed to notice her head nodding as though involuntarily obeying him.
The second spank, this time on the other cheek, followed by the same question, "Do you thing you deserved that spank?".
Again, the passive nod and again another spank. Twenty spanks she counted as she stood in silence. Each one followed by the nod.
Then with twenty complete the question changed, "Are you aroused?"
The tears, a mix of the shame, the pain of the spanking, the humiliation, the anger at how she was being treated. The anger at herself for letting it happen. Finally she accepted and admitted to herself, the truth of it, she was aroused. She nodded.
"Last week you masturbated in this office and orgasmed, yes?" she nodded.
"Have you orgasmed during this week thinking about that?" she nodded.
"Had she came when her husband fucked her thinking about what she had done in his office?" she nodded.
"If I wanted it - right now - would you let me fuck you?" she nodded.
The questions came quicker now, she dared not look around, his breathing suggesting he was now masturbating himself.
