Anger Therapy

Prologue

Do you remember the nineteen forties Mills Brothers hit, “You Always Hurt The One You Love?” It’s a favorite of mine because the lyrics have special meaning to me.

You always hurt the one you love
The one you shouldn't hurt at all
You always take the sweetest rose
And crush it till the petals fall

You always break the kindest heart
With a hasty word you can't recall, so
If I broke your heart last night
It's because I love you most of all

Most people think this song is about hurting someone emotionally. When I think about those lyrics, I think about love that literally hurts.

Chapter One

I met Michelle in 1955 when we were both attending New York University. She was an undergraduate majoring in Marketing, and I was in graduate school pursuing a doctorate in Psychology.

She was taking Introduction to Psychology as part of her general education requirements, and I was the teaching assistant for the class. One of my duties was to grade the midterm examinations. I gave her an A-, and from the look on her face I could tell she wasn't happy about it. She stayed after class to ask for clarification on how I graded a couple of her essay questions. I explained my reasons for the grade. Unfortunately, the professor's questions were open to interpretation. She in turn explained why her answers were more correct. Upon closer inspection of the questions I was forced to agree with her, and so I changed her grade to an A+.

After discussing the test I asked her out for coffee at the student union. We talked for two hours, about our lives, and our plans for the future.

Michelle has a beautiful face and an endearing smile. You can't help liking her: she's just the nicest person. I felt attracted to her, and I liked her, and I felt that she liked me too. It was a joy to be with her, and I knew I wanted to spend more time with her.

One important thing I discovered about her is that she's a perfectionist. She feels a need to excel at everything she attempts.

Take her appearance, for example. Her hair is always beautifully styled. Her clothing is always perfect for the occasion, and her jewelry complements nicely what she's wearing. Her weight is perfect for her height, five foot six and one hundred thirty pounds, with a gorgeous figure.

In high school she was a straight A student and class valedictorian. She was also homecoming queen, an all American athlete, and student body president.

When she went off to college she was offered a full athletic scholarship to play soccer. She has strong calf muscles and a devastating goal kick. Of course, she was the team captain and leading scorer.

She shared her plans for the future. Her goal was to become a senior account manager at a prestigious advertising agency in New York City, eventually becoming a partner or starting her own agency. While in school she was offered an internship at a very successful advertising agency on Madison Avenue called Draper Olsen LLC.

Being a perfectionist, she also planned on having the perfect husband. He would be handsome, intelligent, ambitious, educated, successful, witty, and a passionate lover who worships the ground she walks on, and treats her like a queen. He would be her best friend in the world... her soul mate... and he would do anything to make her happy. Michelle and her husband would marry for life and live blissfully ever after. Eventually they would have two perfect children, a boy named Caesar and a girl named Olympia.

When we were leaving the student union I asked her for a "real" date, and I was thrilled when she agreed. We decided to go out Saturday for dinner and a movie.

The date was, of course, perfect. There were no awkward moments of silence; she made it easy for me even though I was a little nervous about not meeting her expectations. We felt very comfortable being together.

When I walked her back to her apartment she asked, "Do you mind if I kiss you, Jim?"

I felt so happy when she said that. I smiled at her and nodded yes. I leaned towards her and our lips touched. I felt a spark immediately. She parted her lips and gently teased me with her tongue. Our tongues touched and we slowly, gently and lovingly explored each other's mouths.

After kissing for five minutes she asked, "Can I assume we'll be having another date?"

"I would die if we didn't. Michelle, I think I'm falling in love with you!"

She replied, "Yes, so far it looks very promising... you might be the one, Jim."

I asked, "The one? What do you mean?"

"My soul mate... my lover... my husband, silly!"

Wow! I couldn't' believe she said that.

We were married one month after she graduated. Michelle took a well-paid position at Draper-Olsen one week after we returned from our honeymoon. Six months later I had my doctorate degree in Psychology and I, Dr. James Masters, was offered a position as an associate professor at Columbia University.

Chapter Two

Before, I mentioned a love that hurts... so... let me elaborate. Even though Michelle strives for perfection in everything, she does have one flaw. She has a big problem managing her emotions when she gets angry. In fact, when she's really pissed off her emotions take total control of her, and it's not a temporary issue. If she doesn't find a way to channel her anger, it will fester for weeks. Fortunately, from my knowledge of psychology I found a way to ameliorate her anger and get her back to her normal sweet self.

Here is an example that happened about five years ago:

We had made plans to have a special dinner at home on a Friday. Michelle was scheduled to give a presentation at work for an important client that afternoon. Our dinner was to be a celebration of the success of the meeting.

Michelle told me some of the details about the meeting. The client was Midwest Foods. Their corporate headquarters is in Little Rock, Arkansas. They make various food items like canned ham, canned vegetables and sauces, and many others. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss an advertising campaign for their signature product, Big John's Home-style Baked Beans. Big John's has been on the market since the 1920's. The original label on the can showed Big John, a burly lumberjack with a thick beard, holding a can of beans in his left hand, with a double-headed ax draped over his right shoulder. He had a sweet smile... almost like an innocent boy. Over the years there were other Big Johns; an army soldier, a cowboy, and a big game hunter. All of them held a can of beans in his left hand and a rifle draped over his right shoulder.

The client decided it was time to introduce a new Big John. Their idea was to make him a baseball player. The client's art department sent over some preliminary drawings of what they had in mind. Big John is standing in the batter's box, and he has a mischievous smile on his face... one eye is winking. He has a can of the beans in his left hand and a large baseball bat over his right shoulder. He has a very muscular physique and his uniform clings tightly to his body... so tight that you can clearly see the outline of his testicles and penis. He also appears to have an erection!

Michelle did not like this idea at all. She described it as "marketing suicide." The new Big John looked like one of the models in a magazine for homosexuals. Her challenge was to explain the problems with the new Big John, and create a Big John that actually worked to increase sales, and of course, not offend customers.

Her Big John would be a handsome man with a loving wife and a cute nine-year-old son, who looked just like a younger version of his Daddy, and he would NOT have a boner!

She had a new label in mind for the can, Big John, his beautiful wife and son, sitting around a campfire, enjoying a plate of beans, like in a Norman Rockwell painting.

She also had a storyboard for a television commercial prepared. An attractive middle-aged Mom, who looks a little like June Cleaver, is serving baked beans to her adorable son. Mom is saying, "Eat your beans dear and you'll grow up to be a real man like Big John."

The angelic faced boy replies, "I sure will Mommy... I love them... and I love you too!"

I came home early from work to prepare our special dinner. For the menu I planned filet mignon steaks with sautéed chanterelles and sauce Béarnaise, Lyonnais potatoes, a tossed green salad with vinaigrette dressing and blue cheese, and sourdough garlic bread. I also bought a bottle of champagne for a toast, and another bottle of expensive California zinfandel to go with the meal.

Michelle said she would be home no later than 6:00 pm.

Chapter Three

Around five I heard the front door open and then slam very loudly. I came out from the kitchen to greet her. I could see from the look on her face that something was terribly wrong. If looks could kill... well... she had that look on her face. Her face was red and I could see she was close to tears.

I approached her, "Michelle, what's wrong?"

She threw her purse and briefcase on the couch as hard as she could. Then she kicked the couch and yelled, "Those stupid fucking assholes! If I could I'd kill those motherfuckers!"

I saw the blinding rage building inside of her. This evening was not going to go as I'd planned.

"OK, have a seat. I'll get you a glass of wine and you can tell me what happened."

A few moments later we were sitting on the couch and she gave me the gory details of the meeting. Representing Mid West Foods were four male executives. The man in charge was Buford Samuel Caradine, the president of the company. His twenty-five year old son, Buford Junior, who recently graduated from business school, accompanied him. He's a lazy prick who took seven years to get his bachelor's degree, after which Buford senior made him the vice president of marketing. Junior grew up a spoiled brat who never had a real job in his life. The other two representatives went to school with Junior, Wesley Dumont and Charles Carter. Both of their families were members of the same country club as the Caradines. They were first level managers but did not have anyone working under them or any project to supervise, so it's hard to say what they actually managed. They're "yes men" and kissing ass is their main skill.

After introductions were made the men took their seats at the conference room table. Michelle stood at one end of the room in front of an easel with a poster board on it. A large picture of the Big John baseball player was attached to the poster board.

She began, "Gentlemen, what are your expectations from this new Big John?" She pointed her index finger at his crotch, "He certainly has a different look."

Buford senior spoke first, "Well Miss... uh...uh... Michelle is it? We think that when our customers see this they'll be envious of John and want to be like him. He's handsome, rugged and is proud of his manhood... I mean... really, who wouldn't want to be him? Don't you agree, Junior?"

Junior was busy looking at Michelle's tits and not paying much attention to the conversation. "What's that, Dad? I mean Sir... why of course our customers want to be Big John!" He turned to Wesley and Charles for backup, "Right guys?"

Charles thought for a second and replied, "Absolutely! We're targeting young males in their twenties and early thirties. What guy that age doesn't want a body like that?"

Now it was Wesley's turn to speak. He looked Michelle in the eye and smiled, "We all want a big one, sweetie... if you know what I mean." Then he winked at her.

Michelle looked each man in the eye, trying to decide if they were pulling her leg, or if they really believed the bullshit they were saying. Michelle tried to maintain her composure, which wasn't easy considering the morons she was dealing with.

They all waited for her to speak. After ten seconds of silence she began.

"Gentlemen, your customers are not young men. Go to any grocery store and look at who's doing the shopping. It's women who buy the groceries... mothers and wives... they are your customers. And they will be offended... some might even be angry... when they see this Big John... and they will NOT buy your beans!"

Without waiting for a response she placed another poster board on the easel. This one showed the label she had designed with the happy family sitting around the campfire. She smiled at them and began, "This will sell your product!" She pointed at the picture. "What a woman wants is a happy family... just like this one, enjoying their time together, and eating your delicious beans." She picked up another poster board and placed it on the easel. This one showed the storyboard for the television commercial. She waited for her clients to read it.

"Do you know what else women want? They want to take care of their family and serve food that their kids like... and they want their kids to love them! This boy loves the food his mother gives him, he shows his appreciation by telling her that he loves his mommy."

The four men sat in silence, waiting for one of them to take the lead. Buford senior's face was turning beet red... it looked like he just swallowed a turd. Junior has a dumb look on his face and was once again staring at Michelle's chest.

Finally Michelle broke the silence. "Well, what do you think? I guarantee you this concept will work!"

Charles was first to answer, "Why aren't you giving us what we asked for? I thought we were very clear about it... are you people retarded or what?"

Now it was Wesley's turn to share his wisdom, "Yeah, what the hell is wrong with you? We've surveyed our customers many times, and they are predominantly young white males!" Wesley turned his head to look at Charles, "Can you believe the nerve of this bitch?"

Michelle stared at him for five seconds before answering him. "What is your market share?"

"Well... I'm not exactly sure. I would have to check and get back to you on that."

Michelle responded firmly, "It's 10.4 percent. Of the makers of baked beans you are fourth! Heinz is first with a 48.9 percent share, and yes, they also survey their customers... ninety percent of them are women!"

Now it's Junior's turn, "I don't believe you. People have loved Big John's beans for over sixty years. I think you've lost your mind... what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Buford senior stood up and yelled, "Stop! I've heard enough! Has Draper seen this... or Olsen?"

Michelle replied, "Yes... and they love this work!"

Buford Samuel Caradine headed for the door with the rest of the men following close behind. As he exited the room he turned his head back and yelled "I'm talking to Mister Draper about you Shelley. I do not want some silly woman working on my account... and I don't want to see you ever again... you stupid cunt!"

Two minutes later Don Draper came into the conference room. He had a serious look on his face and was in a foul mood.

"Midwest Foods is no longer your account. Go home and think about how we should treat our clients."

Chapter Four

After telling me about her day, Michelle through her arms around me and began to sob uncontrollably. I let her cry for five minutes before pulling her arms down. I looked her in the eye and said, "I'm so sorry dear. Those assholes treated you like shit. I don't blame you for being angry... I would have taken a swing at that fucker!"

She thought about how she had been treated and I could see the anger in her face returning. Her eyes squinted and she pursed her lips, "I'm so damn angry I just can't stand it. I don't like it when I feel like this. I want to be happy for Christ's sake... not consumed with this rage. Jim, can we do an anger therapy session, please? Our weekend will be ruined if I can't get past these feelings."

I put my index finger under her chin and lifted her face so she was looking at me, "I think that's an excellent idea, dear. I was thinking the same thing."

The remedy to Michelle's anger is to have a roleplaying session. In this scenario Michelle is the person who has control, and I am the person who is controlled. I pretend to be the person she is angry at, and she gets her revenge on that person through me as a surrogate. Michelle physically punishes me and there is some amount of pain. But this is not really about pain...it's about power... it's about humiliation... and it's also about pleasure.

Light pain can stimulate me sexually. You're thinking, "What the hell... that's just weird." OK, it's not really that unusual. A lot of people enjoy spanking or being spanked... and a lot of people enjoy being tied up.

You might ask, "How can pain be pleasurable?" This has been studied and there is a scientific explanation. There is a chemical called Dopamine that mediates pleasure in the brain. It is released during pleasurable situations and stimulates you to seek out the pleasurable activity. It promotes what we think of as "wanting." In the brain the same circuits that are involved in pain are involved in pleasure. The dopamine system is very active when someone experiences stress, pain or fear, but it is also active during pleasure.

So why doesn't everyone experience pain as pleasure? The answer is: anticipation. In the right context, like in a controlled situation, pain can be experienced as pleasure. Even though the pain is real, the participants know that the level of pain is limited and the situation will not get out of control.

What happens if someone wants to stop? In this situation either person can use a safe word that the participants agree on before starting.

Those four men from Midwest Foods humiliated Michelle, but what was worse is they made her feel powerless. I'll do this because I love my wife, and I want to give her back her power over those assholes.

I looked into her eyes and said, "Michelle, I'll do anything to get the real you back. I'm going to take a long relaxing shower Why don't you think about what you would like to do to those jerks and I'll meet you back here in half an hour."

"Thank you so much Jim! I know this is hard on you, and I am going to hurt you, but I promise not to cause any serious damage. And I promise you that when it's over you'll have had an orgasm that you will never forget!"

Chapter Four

That sounded good to me. I went into the master bathroom, stripped off my clothes and got into the shower. I adjusted the water temperature to as hot as I could tolerate to relax my muscles. Tight muscles feel the pain more, so this is one of my coping strategies. After drying off I opened the medicine cabinet and took out two prescription bottles. I took one Valium to relax, and two Vicodins to lessen the pain. Then I put on my bathrobe and walked back into the living room.

Michelle was sitting on the couch and was deep in thought. She had changed out of her work clothes, and was now wearing a pair of black thong panties, a black leather vest, and thigh high black fish net stockings. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Several objects were on the coffee table. There was lube, a hand towel, a roll of adhesive tape, a one-quart water bottle, and two pencils. There was also a pair of handcuffs, two long shoelaces, a wooden serving spoon, and a stainless steel spur pinwheel. The bottle of zinfandel and two wine glasses were at the other end of the table.

She looked at me but did not smile or greet me. By the look on her face I could see she was already playing her role... the person in charge.

In a stern voice she said, "You... take off your robe and kneel on the floor... now!"

I put a serious look on my face, "Yes Mistress." I removed my robe and threw it on the far end of the couch. Then I got down on my knees and waited for her next instruction.

"Put your hands behind your back."

She grabbed the handcuffs off the table, went behind me and locked the cuffs on my wrists. She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "I love you Jim... remember that."