Dr. Holloway's Therapy

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A psychologist dominates a helpful young man.
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Edited by Ante_Matter

While it was true that the pretty young thing I had been dating broke up with me, the apex of our brief relationship had long past and I was happy to have my freedom. I used the breakup as an excuse to move to Austin. I wanted to see more of the world, to meet interesting people that could talk about more than how hard they partied, and to date a woman that I hadn't known since I was five. I should have gone to college when I had the chance, but leaving town when I did was the next best thing.

I arrived in the city before lunch and set out to find a place to live. Rooms were more expensive than I expected, so I studied the classifieds until I identified three candidates. Two were run of the mill low-rent room ads. The third was free room and board in exchange for live-in care of an invalid. The appointments for the low rent rooms were in the evening. The appointment for the live in care was in 15 minutes. Free room and board was not essential and I didn't have any intention of looking after an invalid, but I didn't have anything else to do so I kept the appointment.

I rang the bell and was buzzed in, which struck me as odd for a residence. I followed the instructions I had received to the bedroom at the front of the house where Ms. Holloway lay in her hospital style bed. We exchanged introductions and she bid me to sit down in a wicker straight back chair. On the other side of the bed was a large contraption with a sling, which I assumed was for lifting her from the bed.

She introduced herself as Dr. Holloway, while I was intrigued by the fact that she was a doctor, she sounded a bit pretentious. She told me that she had muscular dystrophy, and that the long term prognoses was poor. She claimed that she was an active professor and a prolific researcher in psychology and psychiatry, but I didn't see how that was possible given her poor physical condition. She finished by saying, "If you were to go to the appropriate library you would find countless references to my work. It is very important that my work continue despite my affliction."

She seemed sincere enough, though I assumed that she was like my friends back home who blow their own horn a little bit too hard. I tried to respond with the appropriate amount of awe and respect as she detailed her accomplishments. Then she asked me to tell her about myself.

I had decided that I didn't want to live with this haughty woman, so I told her about the breakup and that I planned to sow some wild oats. I figured that a guy looking to get laid was probably not the caregiver she was after.

"You're still young, there had to be many pretty girls where you're from. Why not chase the local girls? Were you running from something?" She smiled in a way that made me think she knew more about my relationships with women than I did. It was like she had already spotted the gap in my armor that all women eventually found.

"I don't think so," I said. She had countered my little maneuver and made me feel exposed. I made up my mind to look for a polite exit.

She gave me some instructions about the house and what she needed from me. It was a long list of responsibilities that added up to full time care. Compensation was room, board and a daily wage that seemed like a lot until it was divided by the number of hours I would actually be working. My room would have been next to hers. It was slightly bigger than the single bed and chest of drawers which it held.

I asked what had happened to the previous care giver.

"She gave me a week's notice and then called in sick once the ad hit the paper."

"That's not good," I said. Rather than let it drop, I took the opportunity to get a dig in at this mighty professor. "That doesn't reflect well on either of you." With that I had set my plan for a polite exit into motion.

"You are right. I can be demanding and hard to get along with."

She regarded me and continued, "Would you please consider this. Tonight is a banquet in my honor, and as you know, I can't go on my own. I need an assistant, who can treat me with respect, to be my attendant for the evening. I want to appear like I have everything under control, so I don't want to have to call a colleague or press a friend into service. I want you to escort me."

"You will need to prepare me, drive me to the event, stay with me for the evening, bring me home and put me to bed. For that service I will pay you well. You will also get a nice meal and a place to stay the night and you will get to talk to a group of very interesting people."

She paused to let it sink in. Her expression was very serious. She looked me directly in the eye, held my gaze and said, "Will you do this for me?"

Did she know that I was always the one that friends called when they needed help moving? That I was the one that gave up the window seat on the airplane so that kids could sit with their parents? Was I that transparent? Though I was incapable of refusing to help, I promised myself that I would be gone the next morning.

She immediately sent me off to get a tux and pick up some toiletries. When I returned I gave her a bath. As I removed her clothes I was surprised by her body, which was not as wasted as I had thought it would be. For someone who had spent years in bed she wasn't half bad.

"I can barely move, but I can feel everything, so please be gentle."

I did the best I could, but I had no idea what I was doing or how the sling contraption worked. She tried to talk me through, but her naked body combined with everything else made it very awkward. Finally, she was in the sling and I was ready to push her to the bath when she stopped me.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but it would be easier if you removed my tampon."

Up until this point I had been focused on my own embarrassment, but her situation was much worse than mine. So, I smiled and said, "Of course, no problem." I spread her legs and carefully looked for the string. For a few moments I focused on making her more comfortable, but when I looked back at her face I got the impression that she was enjoying making me uncomfortable.

I finally got her in the tub and began to wash her.

"Please, be more gentle."

I began to use a sponge instead of my hands when said, "Stop and look at me."

I obeyed. She grabbed my gaze with hers.

"It has been more than eight years since a man has touched my body. I need you to caress me like you would a the wing of a butterfly. I don't need to be scrubbed, or sponged or, or anything. Just be gentle. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Yes, mam."

"No, no, no. That is no good. You call me Dr. Holloway."

"Yes, Dr. Holloway."

I started by washing her shoulders. Carefully washed down her arms, her palms and through to each finger tip. I washed around her neck and worked my way down her chest to her breasts. I soaped up my hand, cupped her right breast and ever so gently massaged it. She closed her eyes as my hand lingered. I repeated the process with her left breast. Her eyes were closed the entire time. I held her forward and reached behind to get her back, I washed her stomach and then each leg down to the toes, gently massaging her feet as I passed.

"You have to wash all of me, you know."

"Yes, Dr. Holloway."

I slowly ran my hand up the inside of her thigh to her bushy groin. I lathered up my hands and slowly worked the suds into her pubic hair.

"That was very good. Please get me out."

"Yes, Dr. Holloway."

It the next two hours I dried her off, clipped her nails and applied polish, combed her hair, put on her makeup and got her dressed. As I was putting on her dress her foot brushed against my crotch.

"Is your cock still hard from the bath?" She posed the question like she wanted to know why I hadn't taken out the trash. There was no embarrassment or coyness in her voice at all.

I laughed and said, "I beg your pardon?"

"It's a simple question. Is your penis still erect?"

I was thrown by how direct she was. I tried to redirect the conversation, "Is that a question you often ask?"

"Please humor me. Just because I can barely move doesn't mean I've stopped wishing that I could move." There was an air of confidence about her that made her very appealing. For some reason I wanted to please her, even though I knew it was all wrong.

"Yes, well that and brushing your hair and everything. For some reason it's all exciting me."

"Let me have a look." She had a wry expression on her face that made me feel like I was being out maneuvered.

"At my cock?"

"Yes, drop your pants and hold up your shirt."

I shook my head and said, "That's not appropriate," but I could feel my confidence ebbing.

"What is the problem? I'm certain that you have gotten naked with many women that you've known for less time than you've known me."

I froze. The way she interacted with me was so foreign that I didn't know how to react.

She gave me a big smile and said, "And clearly you are not repulsed by my body."

I conceded defeat and did as she commanded.

She glanced at my erect penis for only a second and then looked me in the eyes for what seemed like eternity. Finally, she said, "You are submissive. That is good. I think you can do what I need you to do."

It was all very intense, but I had no idea what the fuck was going on.

I parked her handicap van in a reserved space at the hotel and wheeled her in. She had briefed me to say that I was her assistant and that I was helping Dr. Holloway in her work on the mental health of domination and submission, with an emphasis on the submissive. She told me to that if I got into trouble I should immediately redirect the conversation to the work of whoever I was speaking, and use the words "that is very interesting" or "that's fascinating" whenever possible.

She was surrounded by a group of middle aged men as soon as we entered the ballroom, but before they descended she gave me some cash and sent me off for drinks.

"Are you here with Dr. Holloway?" ask a guy about my age who had raced across the room to stand behind me in line.

"Yes, I am. What kind of work do you do?"

The guy smiled. "Did she tell you to redirect the conversation?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes, it is." He asked about the previous care giver and I explained that they had had a falling out. Then he tried to get as much information about me as he could.

"I've only known her for a couple of hours, so..."

"Are you a student at the university?"

"No, I just rolled into town this morning."

The conversation died for a few minutes while the guy thought. Then he said, "I used to work extensively with Dr. Holloway. She is a leading expert in Domination and Submission. She has spent her whole career helping people."

"That's fascinating," I said.

That flustered the guy, but he continued, "Look, if you get any hint that she is forcing you into submission or that she is exploiting you in any way, in particular exploiting you by using sex to control you, call me, okay?" He handed me a business card.

I took the card as my drinks were served. As crossed the room I thought about what he had said and how far down that path we had already gone. I suspected that he was sincere in in concern, but Dr. Holloway excited me in a way I had never been excited before, and I wanted to find out what was going to happen next.

As I handed her drink to her, Dr. Holloway asked, "What did Walter say to you?"

"He just wanted to know who I was and he asked how you were doing," I said.

"He can ask me that himself. Why did he run across the room to talk to you?"

"I didn't ask him," I said. She could have gotten more out of me if she had pressed, but she wanted to get back to people more interesting than me.

"You should probably stay away from him," she said and then turned to her admirers.

I managed to mingle a little bit. By keeping the conversation directed away from my self and feigning interest in everything that was said I gave a reasonable impersonation of an intellectual. Mostly though I attended to Dr. Holloway. She made a point of making sure that I was the one that took her to her seat. I was the one that help her with her meal. I was the one that took her to the restroom. Never before had I been so servile and I found it strangely exciting.

The high point of the evening was the presentation of an award. A middle-aged man with a white beard spouted off a bunch of jargon about what Dr. Holloway had done and how important she was and how much she had helped hundreds of submissive people that were unable to help themselves. Everyone clapped and she beamed as I wheeled her up to receive her plaque. She gave a short speech, thanked everyone and then I wheeled her back down. She made sure that I was next to her the entire time, basking in her glow.

She held me there next to her as the attendees passed by to pay their respects. The evening wrapped up soon after that.

As I loaded Dr. Holloway into the van, Walter approached and asked to speak with her.

"Of course," she said.

"After all the good work you have done, I can't believe you're being so selfish."

"Walter, believe me, if I had a choice I would do things differently, but I don't have long and I'm desperate. You know the situation, if you get a better idea, let me know."

"Why don't you go to a hospital?"

"I don't want to die cold and alone in a hospital."

"Well, what about the damage you're doing to this poor schmuck?" He pointed to me.

I said, "Hey wait a minute."

Dr. Holloway stopped me and asked that I get her a glass of water.

Walter was still there when I returned with the water. "Do you still have my business card?" After I nodded he continued, "If you ever feel depressed or worthless or just that you need help do not hesitate to call."

Dr. Holloway thanked Walter and instructed me to drive her home.

"What is going on?" I asked as I drove.

"There are two things you need to know. Number one is that I need you. Number two is that I'm going to hurt you. I will try to not damage you any more than absolutely necessary, but the damage will be substantial."

"You're talking about psychological damage aren't you?"

I saw compassion in her face that I had not seen before as she responded with a quiet, "yes." Then her demeanor turned on a dime and she continued, "Enough of this, take me home." I took her home and put her to bed. Every little thing took forever, we had been home an hour before she was finally in bed. As I went to leave she locked onto my eyes again and said, "I know you are excited, but don't masturbate tonight. Can you do that for me?"

What was I going to say? It was not okay for her to take control of my masturbation, but the fact that she wanted to was arousing in itself. While my long-term hard on was on my mind, I was also conflicted about the decision I had to make tomorrow morning. Was I going to stay or go? I also found it intoxicating to hear her say that she needed me, and strangely, I wanted her to hurt me. How did I get so fucked up in one day?

A ringing phone woke me the next morning. Dr. Holloway answered on speaker and I could hear her discussing a new person for home care. "I may have already found someone, let me check." Then she called me in. I entered the room covering up my erect penis with my hands. "Let me see," she said to me. She wore that same wry expression that I had seen before. She then continued to the phone, "No, I already have someone, but thank you for calling back."

Then she looked at me and said, "Before we do anything today we need to unload your gun. Kneel down in front of the chair."

I did as she said. I was totally humiliated and it only made me want to be more humiliated.

"Now look in my eyes. Good. You can now touch yourself." My whole conciseness was focused on her as I stroked myself. She carefully watched me as I masturbated. At first she watched my eyes then she dropped her gaze to my cock. Finally, she said, "Cum into your hand so you don't make a mess." She watched my body shudder as I came. "Very good," she said. "Would you like to eat your cum, or should we save that for another time?" She must have seen that I was horrified, because she told me to go wash up. When I cam back she had me sit naked in the straight back chair.

Dr. Holloway then said, "Over the next few months I am going to do things to you that I've worked my whole life undoing in other people like you. I might ruin your chance of have of having normal sexual relations with a woman. I might destroy any chance you have of being happy. All because I'm selfish. All because I'm dying and I'm afraid to die alone." She paused to let it sink in.

I broke the pause, "Yea, we kind of covered that last night. You're going to hurt me, but that kinda turns me on."

She laughed, "Very good. Let's get down to business." She laid out the rules by which I would live. "A pregnancy would probably kill me, so your penis can come nowhere near my vagina. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"So there is no hope of sex. You understand that right?"

"So, I'll just be beating off?"

"That is about it, but only with me watching. You no longer masturbate in private." She said all of this like she was telling me how to make an omelet. She knew that I wanted to please her, and all she had to do was tell me how.

She went on to give me a list of phone numbers and the conditions under which I was to call each. She forbid me to have a girlfriend or to socialize at all, unless I was in her presence.

Finally, she said, "In case I need you to bend or break any of these rules there is a safe word. If I repeat the safe word three times then ask you to break one of these rules then you may do so. Otherwise these rules always hold firm. Do you understand?"

I said that I did and she told be the safe word.

"There is one last thing. You must verbally submit to me. By doing this you acknowledge that I am your superior and that I dominate you. You submit to doing as I say without reservation and defer to me in all decisions."

"Think carefully, because this is a big deal for men. You are giving up a large part of your masculinity. In my experience this is the psychological wound that is the most difficult to heal."

I looked into her eyes for some sign of uncertainty, but there was none. She knew where this path lead it was only a matter of closing the deal. "What if I change my mind?"

"That won't happen."

"and if I decline?"

"Then you go home. But that isn't going to happen either, is it?" She gave that smile again.

Every moment I'd been with Dr. Holloway had been like the instant before orgasm. I could not imagine a scenario where I would walk away from that intensity. "I submit to you, Dr. Holloway."

"Very good, now go make breakfast." She ate and then took a nap.

I think the awards ceremony knocked more energy from Dr. Holloway than she expected. She spent most of the days that followed asleep or resting. I spent the days cleaning, painting and doing yard work, but she didn't see any of the improvements because she never came out of her room. After a few weeks she began to get some of her energy back, and she finally asked me to prepare a bath.

I wrestled with her and the sling again, this time without embarrassment. Eventually, I slowly lowered her into the tub. I began by shampooing her hair. It was short, dark and felt felt thick in my fingers. I was careful not to work her scalp too hard. While her eyes were closed, I could tell she enjoyed it.

"You should take off your clothes," she said. I had been thinking about this for weeks. A rush of excitement surged through my body. She chuckled when my cock popped out of my pants. "You are so easy," she said half to herself.

After washing her face I moved down to her shoulders, then her arms to her fingers. I took each finger into my mouth one at a time, sucked off the water and then nibbled at the fingernail.

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