Anger Management Ch. 02

My days passed in a blur. My thoughts centered on nothing but the incredible experience in Dr. K's office and I shivered every time I considered my next appointment. Both my excitement and frustration grew as the time neared.

But when I went to my next session? Nothing.

Nothing! He asked me about my day, my job, my family -- a typical day at the office, it seemed. He sat there and acted innocent...so innocent, so professional. I hadn't imagined it, had I? Wasn't this the same man who forced me to my knees and forced me to watch as he masturbated? Did I not lick semen off his cock like the most delicious ice cream cone? There were no signs of recollection. I sat in horrified silence as I remembered how he humiliated me....and how much I liked it. I was ridiculous to think that it could continue. God, I hated him...and myself for still wanting him.

"I'm going to recommend several more sessions than what was originally suggested," his sexy drawl forced its way into my consciousness.

More sessions? Between our last session and this one, I might have leaped for joy at the thought. Now, I was dreading them more than ever. Somewhere, someone was laughing at my terrible karma. I stood up and moved towards the door. He reached to shake my hand and I made the same motion, laughing hysterically inside considering this was far from how my last visit ended. However, instead of shaking my hand, he grabbed it and gently, but firmly pulled me closer. He turned me around towards the door, one arm circling my neck, the other hand down at my waist. His breath stirred the hair sitting at the nape, making me shake.

"Oh, Taylor, I thought our session last time would have made you more eager to contribute. I'm impressed by your control today but disappointed by your silence. For that, I'm afraid, we'll both suffer this time," he paused, considering. "Well, no, to be honest...I won't. Once you leave, I fully intend to sit in my chair and jerk off to the memory of you licking my cock for as long as I possibly can and still be able to drive home. Once there, I'm probably going to do it some more while imagining you bent over my desk while I slap your beautiful ass, leaving bright red handprints, then fucking you until you scream. You, on the other hand," he chuckled. I was beginning to recognize the danger in that laugh. "You're going to do...nothing. I don't want you touching yourself, fantasizing, watching porn, any of it until I see you again. I want you on the brink of losing control, Taylor, because, only then, can I show you how to keep it." He released me and opened the door.

I walked through like a robot, floored by his words. For a brief moment, I looked back at him. He stood at the doorway watching me. One hand was on the door. The other was already on his crotch...and that wicked grin was on his face.

I drove home with every intention of defying him. He had me in such a state that I could barely keep from doing anything in the car. I kept myself together, though. I would get home, take myself right to the edge, and call his voicemail so he could hear me in depths of my passion. That would teach him to tell me what to do.

By the time I reached home, however, I realized...I didn't want to disobey him. I wanted to please him...more than I ever wanted to please anyone. Before I even entered my house, I had made the mental commitment to do whatever he told me for "treatment."

The time between sessions was now torturous. Not only was I in suspense as to what was to come but now I was highly frustrated as well. I was extremely irritable at work, prompting my boss to ask if I had been attending my sessions as often as I claimed. I civilly told her I was and that she was more than welcome to call his office if she felt it was necessary. She looked at me askance; obviously she didn't believe me but there was little she could do. When his office called two days before my next appointment to reschedule, it was all I could do to not punch out a window.

The control I was supposed to be strengthening was now severely being tested. While I certainly thought about being fucked by my therapist, I wasn't sure I enjoyed being mindfucked by him.

Finally, the next appointment arrived. On the outside, I'm sure I presented a normal picture but, inside, I was a quivering wreck. I dared not considering what was in store; to have one-sided expectations is the surest way to be disappointed.

Upon arriving in his office, I went through the usual protocol. Once I settled in the waiting room, I assessed my appearance. It was a hot day and it didn't take much to make anyone sweat. Coming straight from work, I was wearing a lightweight, navy blue maxi dress and silver sandals for professional-looking comfort. I pulled my compact out of my purse and fussed with my hair; thanks to the humidity outside, my beachy waves were getting unruly. I became so engrossed in trying to settle the frizz, that I never heard the click.

A ripple of bluish-green crossed my vision and I heard that smoky laugh of my fantasies. I dropped my compact to the floor, surprised by the nearness of the sound. I jerked my eyes towards him and gasped. He was wearing a button-down shirt, a beautiful peacock teal this time, but he had already removed his tie. The top two buttons were undone and a smooth triangle of skin showed through, giving a tantalizing glimpse of the exquisiteness beneath. He had also rolled his shirt sleeves up, allowing me to see the muscles in his arms, the light sprinkles of hair leading to those magnificent hands with those oh-so...long fingers. Those rested at his waist, drawing my gaze down. His black slacks seemed to be a part of him, completing his outfit but also defining his hard, masculine lines just so.

Historians claim Michelangelo's "David" was based on the ideal male. If so, Michelangelo was sorely misled if the specimen in front of me was anything to go by.

"Hello, Taylor," he greeted me, "Shall we begin?" Oh my, indeed we shall.

He ushered me back to his office. I took my customary place on the sofa while he sat on his chair. On his desk, I noticed his tie -- a mix of gold and teal geometric patterns. He followed my gaze.

"I had a seminar to give at the university today but, once I got back here to the office, it was too hot to keep it on. I hope you'll forgive me for not wearing it," he commented. The look in his eyes told me knew already I wasn't bothered. Rather than deny what he already knew, I simply shrugged and smiled.

"I don't blame you. I've been pretty hot today myself," I responded. Shit. The words were out of my mouth before I realized the possible innuendo. The tick of his mouth at the corner told me quickly that he didn't take my words for the innocent comment I intended. He raised one eyebrow and moved forward in his chair. The wicked grin took front and center.

"I'm sure you have been, Taylor. In fact, I'm sure you've been hot for a long time. I've planned this session around that, actually. Today, we're going to focus on control when you are in a confrontation with someone in charge. I think...," the smile grew wider and my anxiety heightened, "some role playing is in order." He stood and walked towards his office door. There was a small space between the door and his desk and he stood there for a moment, looking back and forth between me and the door. Hanging from the door was a thick wrought-iron coat hook but there was nothing currently on it. Eventually, he beckoned me over.

"In order to create the dynamic we need for this, Taylor, you need to be in a situation where you feel helpless, at someone else's mercy. When you are confronted by someone in power and you lash out, you are trying to re-establish the balance of power in a negative way. I can't show this to you in a therapist-client environment. There's no balance to tip. Therefore, we'll have to create it. It will take something a little...unorthodox. I don't use this technique much but I think it will work for you. Are you willing to try it?" Curious, anxious, and definitely more than a little aroused, I nodded. He hesitated only for a moment then snatched up his tie.

Before I could register what was happening, he had my back up against the door and my hands over my head. The soft silk of the tie was wound around my wrists and he was tying a knot around the hook above the door. My brain switched to auto-pilot and the fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. I started to struggle, forcing him to press his body against mine to keep me still. He thrust his knee between my legs and the hard muscle of his thigh rubbed right at the perfect spot, making me instantly wet. I made no noise, only short squeaks as I tried to regain my senses. His assault was total; I had no ability to run. Finally, he finished tying me up and stepped back. He grinned again.

"Perfect. Now, for this to be effective, Taylor, you have to withstand whatever I do with no loss of control. No screaming, no violence, no swearing...nothing. If you can, we may have to ramp things up a bit." My mind raced at the possibilities. Surely, he didn't plan to just yell insults at me while trussing me up in his office, did he? As he moved towards me again, I knew words were not part of the plan.

I was shocked at his next action; he dropped to his knees. Slowly, he grabbed the hem of my dress and started to pull it up. Inch by inch, his graceful fingers grazed my flesh, already ablaze with hunger. The material of my dress, seemingly so perfect for the hot weather that day, now felt like it weighed a hundred pounds more and I wished he would rip it off. He continued with that achingly slow, almost drowsy pace until I almost shouted from sheer impatience. When he finally reached my pussy, I was wetter than I could ever remember being in my life and only the tie around my wrists kept me from shoving his head where we both knew I wanted it.

"Oh, Taylor, you're doing very well. Let's get a little more serious now, shall we?" He started rubbing my clit through the thin cotton of my panties and I thought I'd bite my tongue in half. The rhythm alternated; a slow, soft stroke, then a fast, rough flicking that made me half-insane. I closed my eyes, lost in the sensation and he pulled down on my dress hard to gain my attention. When I looked, I was rewarded with the sight of him placing one of those long fingers into his mouth as his other hand moved my panties aside. He smiled wider than I'd ever seen before and pushed his nose right into my heat. I heard him inhale and, as he exhaled, his warm breath tickled my labia. The finger that had previously been in his mouth was now tracing the folds of my pussy and, little by little, he was pushing it inside me. I squirmed, bending my knees, trying so hard to entice him further -- and yet, he held back...keeping me constantly on the edge. My control was completely frayed; I was starting to whimper despite my best efforts. I could feel the juices of my arousal leaking out of me and I knew he could see, feel, smell all of it. Part of me wanted to die but, as methods of dying went, I couldn't have chosen a better way.

He continued to stroke, to rub, to tickle my most sensitive areas until I thought I'd have to beg him to either fuck me or let me die. After an eternity, though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, he stopped everything and looked at me. I must have presented quite a picture with my hands tied up, my dress around my waist, and sweating and panting like a lunatic.

"Very good, Taylor. I think it's time for a reward now." He grabbed my hips, tore my panties down, threw my leg over his shoulder, and dove into my pussy. His tongue invaded where his finger had only explored earlier while his hands squeezed my ass with every thrust. At one point, he brought one hand around and started to finger me while he sucked and pulled at my clit with his teeth. I was so close...so close when he finally growled, "Come for me, Taylor. I want to lick you clean like you did for me." The huskiness and the demand in his voice did it for me; I came violently but without a sound, almost ripping the tie off the hook in the process. My body shook with the sensations and I lost all ability to think. Even if I wanted to fight in that moment, I wouldn't have had the mental presence to do so.

As I recovered, he continued licking my pussy, cleaning me as he wanted to do. The strokes had slowed considerably but it was enough to produce another shuddering aftershock -- one that made me sure that, without the tie holding me up, I'd have dropped to the ground.

He finished and put my dress back to rights. Then, he untied me and, gently, sat me down on the couch. We stayed so for a few minutes until I was sure I could walk without assistance. Eventually, I stood and started to leave. He stopped me just before I opened the door.

"You did very, very well today, Taylor. We certainly made progress and you show a lot of potential. I look forward to our next session."

And with that, I opened the door and went home. I couldn't wait for the next session either.

Stay tuned...