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Session VI: Calling a Halt
Dr. Gupta left a message on my machine saying that she had no open slots, but would be willing to stay later than usual and see me at 6 p.m. I was to call her back to confirm, which I did. I called Bob and told him I would be late and left a message on my daughter Alison’s cell phone asking her to start supper for me.
I was early for the appointment and sat fidgeting in the waiting room for fifteen minutes before Dr. Gupta let me in. The pain from the spankings I had had over the last few days was fading, but I could still feel Jennifer’s fingers inside of me whenever I let myself. Every time I did I flushed with shame and looked around at the others in the room, afraid that they could read what had happened on my face.
Finally, Dr. Gupta opened the door to let someone out. She beckoned me and led me down the hall of the group practice to her office. I sat on the couch at her wave and waited for her to talk before I said anything
“How are you doing, Pamela?”
“Horrible. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to stop.”
“This ‘therapy’ that you call it. I can’t. This isn’t right.” My eyes were filling with tears. There was a box of Kleenex next to the couch and I grabbed one.
“All right. Let me just review your file,” she said. She turned to her computer and typed and clicked for a minute. While she read, one of her fingers tapped absently on her pursed lips. Eventually she turned back to me. “It seems that you have had a rather intense first week, Pamela. Much more intense than I expected or have seen for my other patients. Do you find the spankings so horrible?”
“No, Dr. Gupta. It’s not that. It’s…It’s my last therapy.”
“Yes, with Jennifer Edelman. Did you know that she’s one of the founders of the program? I believe that she was the person who wrote the software. Jennifer and her Thesis Advisor were the ones who invented the entire course of study. She’s pretty amazing. It said on your file that you knew her personally?”
“Yes,” I sniffled. “She used to babysit for my kids. A few years ago.”
“So, is that why you want to stop, because you saw someone you know?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then why? What happened to make you want to stop?”
I looked at her for a long moment, tears starting to run down my cheeks. “She’s so young, Doctor. Only a little older than my kids….”
“So, it’s her age?”
She just sat there, waiting for me to continue.
It all came bubbling out at once. “She fingered me, Doctor,” I said with a shake in my voice. “She didn’t spank me, she fucked me. She fucked me to orgasm with her fingers in my cunt and then she did it again with her finger in my ass.” I’m not sure how understandable I was. I was speaking and crying at the same time.
“Pamela,” Dr. Gupta said, “listen to me.”
I had been looking at my feet. When she said that my head came up and looked at her. “No, doctor…please.”
“Pamela,” she said again. “Listen to me. Come over here across my lap.”
I stared at her for a full minute. She didn’t move or say anything else; she just looked back at me. Finally, I got up and moved toward her. “Pants off, Pamela,” she added calmly.
I took a deep breath and slipped off my clogs, then pushed my harem pants over my hips and stepped out of them. She indicated her lap and I assumed the position I’d done for the first time in her office a scant week or so ago. Her hand rested on my bare bottom, but she didn’t spank me. Instead she said calmly, “Now, why don’t you walk me through what happened to you today. Start when you got to Jennifer’s place. Be detailed.”
I took a deep breath. For some reason being in this position made it easier to calm down. “She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed,” güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I started. I told the doctor about how Jennifer had examined my hands and my feet and what she had said about the three other therapy sessions I’d had that week. I told her about being made to take off my blouse and how she’d caressed my breasts and then flicked my nipples.
Then I told the doctor that Jennifer had had me take off my pants and turn around so she could examine my bottom. “She mentioned Alison when she saw I didn’t have any panties on, Doctor. She didn’t have to do that. And she told me I had too much hair down there. She pulled it too.”
“What happened after that?”
“Then she made me get over her lap.”
“Just like we’re doing now?”
“Yes. And she began to run her hands over my butt and then I guess my legs started moving apart….”
“Just like they’re doing now?”
“Oh god!” I slapped my legs back together.
“No,” Dr. Gupta said pushing my thighs back apart. “Leave them. That is how you were. Tell me what happened next.”
I took deep breath and tried to talk but couldn’t. I took another. And another and finally was able to say, “and then she stuck her fingers inside of me and started fingering me.”
“And what did you do?”
“I moaned, damn it! I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help myself. And then I told her to stop.”
“And did she?”
“Yes, and she said I could go.”
“So you left?”
“No, damn it. I didn’t leave. I just stayed there and she went back to fingering me. She fucked me with her fingers until I came. She fucked me, Doctor. I’m not a lesbian. She’s young enough to be my daughter. Why did I let her?”
“We’ll talk about that in a minute. You said she put a finger into your rectum?”
“Yes. And I came from that too. I’ve never even let my husband do that to me.”
“And did you stop her from doing that?”
“No,” I sobbed.
“And did you come?”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, I came.”
Dr. Gupta just let me cry over her lap for a minute. Then she said, “do you want to know what I think Pamela?”
I sniffed. “Yes, please Doctor.”
“I think you had no right to be surprised at what Jennifer did to you. I think that every time someone spanks you, you spread your legs like a whore. I think you’re begging them to finger you. In fact you still haven’t closed your legs up for me. I think you want me to finger fuck your nasty, slutty cunt.” Her hand slid between my thighs, resting on the outside of my vagina.
“No, please don’t.”
“No, Pamela?” She moved her fingers gently over my labia. I moaned. “No?”
“Oh god,” I said. “Please.”
“Please which, Pamela? Please ‘yes’ or please ‘no’?” Her fingers slid down further, brushing against my clit.
“Please yes. Damn it, please. I need it so badly.”
She didn’t hesitate. The doctor’s fingers slid into my pussy and began to pump in and out of me slowly, then more quickly. She was very skilled: her fingers had me moaning uncontrollably in just seconds. After her plunging brought me to a small climax, she slid her fingers out and down further between my thighs to my clit again. She rubbed and flicked my clit, building the sensations until I came again. Then her fingers went back inside me, massaging my g-spot, pushing me further and further along, until I came a third time in a shuddering spasm. My cunt squeezed and held for what seemed like an eternity. For a second or two I felt like I was peeing, but that wasn’t it. It was something like it, I didn’t know what.
She didn’t say anything until I stopped shivering.
“Roll off me, Pamela. Kneel on the floor.” I did as she said, moving shakily. When I got to the floor in front of her I saw that her skirt was very wet. I blushed when I realized it güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri was me who’d done that.
Dr. Gupta reached out with her hand and caressed my cheek. Her hand was wet too; it was obviously the one she’d just had inside me. Her thumb ran along my lips a couple of times. “Open,” she whispered. When I did, she slipped first her thumb into my mouth. I got the hint and sucked my juices from her. She continued with each of her fingers.
Then she stood up in front of me. Her skirt had looked bad enough from the previous angle, when she stood it was even more embarrassing. “Well, Pamela,” she said looking down at herself, “it’s a good thing I keep a change of clothes in my office. Stay there a moment.”
She moved over to an armoire against one wall. She was wearing a grey business suit with a white blouse. She took off her jacket and hung it up inside the armoire, then reached behind herself and unzipped her skirt. She stepped out of that, carefully lifting her high heeled shoes around it, and hung that up on a hanger too. I was a little surprised to see she was wearing garters and stockings. And no panties.
She turned back to me. “I think it’s time for another step in your therapy, Pamela.” Wearing just her blouse, stocking and heels, she came back to her chair and sat back down. This time it was her legs that spread wantonly.
I stared at her. Her pussy was as hairy as mine, covered with tightly curled, jet black hair. Yet under the hair, peaking out of coffee-colored, very swollen labia, a very pink, very wet-looking cunt stared back at me. I felt her eyes on me, but she said nothing for a moment. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her cunt. A moment ago, all I could smell was the scent of my own sex. Now there was another scent in the air. Similar, but different. My nose twitched uncontrolled, inhaling her fragrance.
“Pamela,” she said finally in a whisper, “listen to me.”
“We have many clinical names to apply to a woman like you,” she continued in a matter of fact tone, “but I think that they are all unimportant. Right now the best term to describe you, I think, is slut.” Something about her Indian accent made the word sound all the dirtier. I trembled a little.
“Yes, ‘slut’. And I know you are an intelligent slut so I think your next course of therapy should be apparent to you right now. Is it?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“It’s never come up in our sessions, but I assume that you’ve never done this before? Never licked pussy?” She pronounced ‘pussy’ like someone else might say, ’emerald.’
“I’m not going to insult you by giving you instructions. A slut like you should be a natural pussy licker. You should take to it like a cat takes to cream.” She touched herself, ran her fingers just inside of her opening while I watched, then raised her fingers to her mouth and tasted herself. “Very delicious cream. You may begin whenever you are ready.”
I wasn’t fighting this, which surprised me. At this point I wanted it. Before I lost my nerve, I moved forward on my knees and leaned my face forward. My tongue slid out my lips and I tentatively licked along her opening. She moaned and I was lost.
I licked her eagerly after that. Eagerly and energetically. Somehow I knew what to do; mostly I just gave her the pussy licking that I’d always wanted but never had. My tongue danced along her labia and around her clit, or pushed inside of her, seeking out her spicy, hot, naughty flavor. My lips kissed her “down there” like a long-time lover frenching after a long time away. My hand rose without conscious thought and spread her lips for better access by my tongue. Later my fingers slid inside of her; I felt her heated, slippery cunt welcome my entry.
I wish I could repeat the things she said while güvenilir bahis şirketleri I was eating her pussy, but I couldn’t really understand much of it. Sometimes she would say things like, “right there,” or “yeah that’s good.” But a lot of the time she spoke in a language that I didn’t recognize at all; I guess it was something she’d grown up with. But it was kind of hot her talking in a foreign tongue like that. She had that Indian/English accent and was saying all of these totally wild things. It turned me on to be making her do this.
It also turned me on so much when she came. “I did that,” I thought to myself when her words started stuttering and her hips started bucking against my face. It was one thing to have a man come in my mouth. That was always a clear signal that he’d come; a creamy reward for the effort I’d put in. But when Dr. Gupta came it was so different. Men were usually so staid: a grunt and sigh, followed by little or nothing. Dr Gupta’s orgasm was wonderful and expressive. I looked up along the length of her body while she came to see her face bloom with pleasure. It wasn’t an expression I’d ever seen before on her face.
I didn’t stop until she told me to. My tongue was getting tired, but I was having so much fun. I never would have guessed that I would have liked this. If you’d have asked me a week ago, I’d have said I’d never do anything like this. I was a good, straight girl and good, straight girls don’t lick pussy. But I guess I was wrong.
After she told me to stop, Dr. Gupta took a few moments to gather herself together. Then without another word, she got up and went back to her armoire. She took a pair of slacks from another hanger, and pulled them on, tucking her blouse into them. Then she spent a few minutes looking into her mirror primping her hair and touching up her makeup. I just stayed where I was kneeling, watching her, wondering what had changed inside of me that let me just do that.
She came back over to me and held out her hand. I took it and she said, “Stand up, slut,” and helped me to stand. Then she kissed me, hard, on my lips, her tongue pushing into my mouth. It was a lover’s kiss, not a kiss of love. She was thanking me, and I understood that. Still I kissed her back and enjoyed the whole thing.
Her hand slipped down between us and into my cunt again. I wasn’t expecting that, but then again, what had I expected? “Come for me, whore,” she whispered. I writhed on her fingers to the sound of that word. Then she began to frig me. Her insistent fingers brought me to another come standing there in the middle of her office, her face inches from mine. She looked deeply into my eyes as I came, and she held her fingers inside of me as my pussy tightened and released.
She let go of me then and said, “Put your pants on, Pamela. I think your therapy has been very successful. You can check yourself in my mirror when you’re dressed.”
As I pulled on my pants and adjusted my hair in her mirror — I needed to use the bathroom to wash my face and do my makeup — Dr. Gupta spent the time typing on her computer. I finished before she did and waited patiently for her to turn to me.
“You won’t have any therapy tomorrow, Pam. And I’ve requested that your future therapies are toned down just a bit. I don’t think you’ll have anything anywhere near as intense as your last two days.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gupta.”
“There might be more like today though.”
“That would be okay.”
“There’ll definitely be some less, um, experienced therapists. Most patients get someone like Dr. Brooks or Ms. Adamms or Ms. Nitsugawa occasionally. But clearly this has been successful for you. I would like to see you next Thursday. At the same time. Will that work for you?”
“Let me check,” I said and took my iPhone out of my bag, opening my appointment app. “Yes, that’s fine. Will, um, will we have more of this type of therapy?”
“I think we can do that, if you’d like.”
“I think I would like that, Doctor.”
“Good, let me walk you out. You’ll probably want to clean up a bit more before you go home.”
“Yes. Probably, Thank you doctor.”
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