All characters are over 18. This is a concluded and mostly self-contained part of an ongoing series.
WARNINGS: There is not very much nonconsent. There is an incest kink with mentions of prior incest. There is a prostitution kink involving some misogyny. There is pissing. The main theme is similar to mind control or free use. Overall, there is a lot of immoral behavior.
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"So, Friday at last, right Helen?" Susannah the therapist said, greeting her patient. "Did the receptionist leave yet?"
Helen looked back out and confirmed that they were alone for this last therapy session of the week.
The stylish, tall, and very classy therapist opened the top buttons of her blouse, uncovering substantial cleavage. The 48-year-old woman's breasts were impressively big. Her brown hair was tied behind her head, making her as authoritative as she was beautiful. She moved her chair out closer to the sofa, and finally she pulled the skirt of her suit up around her hips to spread her legs better, sitting back, showing the smoothness of her bare thighs all the way up to the black panties.
"Good. You're wearing a bit much, don't you think?"
Helen sat down within reach of a touch, which was beneficial for this particular kind of therapy. She dutifully removed her oversized zip-up sweater, and under it, there was nothing but a half-transparent, silk-thin black top. There was no bra. At 27, there was still a youthful perfection to her large, firm breasts. There were even hints of pink where the nipples peaked out through the fabric between wisps of her long, straight hair.
She didn't really know why she dressed more provocatively lately. There was a lot about her behavior lately that was out of the ordinary. She had a nagging suspicion that therapeutic trances induced by Susannah were involved. It was difficult to remember exactly what they talked about at all times, but there was no point in overanalyzing. Without these session, Helen would have crippling anxiety. With the treatment, her life was dopamine and sweet bliss.
Of course, she was aware that randomly providing sexual pleasure to your therapist wasn't something that was normally expected from a patient. Helen didn't mind so much. She only really thought about it when she was in the moment. And in the moment, everything was dreamlike in the best of ways.
Susannah would be the first to admit to exploring some moral gray zones with this therapy. Doing a good job didn't mean you couldn't enjoy yourself in the mean time, did it?
She casually moved a hand down to her exposed panty crotch and started caressing a finger up and down in a relaxed, habitual way.
"I think the time has come for us to make some change," the therapist said. "We're not progressing. I think we should focus simply on making you happier with the way things are for a while."
She was honest in her intentions to help, but she admitted to herself by now that she was running out of ideas. There were also benefits -- physical and very pleasurable benefits -- to prolonging Helen's treatment.
"Everyone who knows about your compulsions will exploit you, Helen. Have you worked on coming to terms with it? We should talk more about it. I know it makes you lonely."
They returned to this topic regularly during therapy. Helen suspected that it aroused her therapist to talk about prior sexual abuse. Helen was right.
Through her entire adult life, she had been taken advantage of by someone or another close to her. From when she was 18, her father had taken advantage of her intrusive thoughts for his own sexual gratification. Then, her old neighbor had ended up using her sexually when she came to him for help and comfort.
In truth, the therapist hadn't behaved much better. But today Susannah restrained herself, sitting back in calm excitement, caressing her breasts and the panties between her spread legs while Helen opened her heart.
Helen always had trouble deciphering other people's feelings. She was lonely. She was still saddened about knowing no one who actually valued her friendship over using her for physical pleasure.
"I want us to try something," Susannah said, interrupting after a few minutes. "I promise it will be for your benefit. It's important that you stay calm. Will you let me touch your breasts already?"
This critical point in the sessions always came, and you never knew what you were really agreeing to. It could be traditional therapy, or it could be sexual services. Helen was hesitant as usual, squirming in her chair, knowing this was her chance to protest. But she always found it easier to give in. She needed the touch more than she needed control.
The therapist put the palm of her hands on one of her patient's firm, delightful tits with a gasp of delight.
"Aaahh!" Helen cried out the moment she felt it. "Oohh, yeahh! I'm sorry I doubt you! I love this so much! Mmhh, I need it so bad! Oohh, I love you!"
Susannah was always astonished by the reaction. The way Helen would describe it, she was actually having an orgasm right now, throbbing from her tits down to the gushing cunt in her panties. This orgasm cleared her mind. It made her love whoever touched her this way. It made her do what whatever she was told with worship and without question. She surrendered herself completely to these touches, and she was completely addicted to them. It was an absolutely unique compulsion, and it was more incomprehensible the more you thought about it.
Helen kept moaning in response to everything Susannah said while massaging the soft, ample tit flesh.
"It's time to face who you really are, Helen. Mhh, you should make an effort to understand why people need to use you. I think you should try harder to understand the temptation."
In this suggestive trance, Helen didn't suffer any anxieties or inhibitions.
"Aahh, yesss! Oh, fuck, it's good! I love you so much! Oohh, I'll do anything. Mmhhh, pleease! Tell me what to do!"
"You should learn from someone who used you, Helen. I want you to really get to know your old neighbor Isac. I reached out, and he's very regretful. Also, I think it would be good for you to have a father figure in your life again."
* * *
Being back at Isac's door was a strange experience.
This old life was distant now. She trembled with nervousness as she reached for the little button beside the door, which was the same type as to her old apartment below. The sound of the bell brought everything back.
Her 72-year-old former neighbor opened the door with a smile. Apparently, he was expecting her.
"Welcome Helen! I'm so happy to see you!"
He wasn't very big, and his short, slender frame gave him a disarming quality. His white hair looked thinner than before, but there was a new vitality in his face.
He had put his nice shirt on. Helen wore her usual type of provocative thin top without a bra, and she had a good-looking pair of new pants that accentuated her hips.
