The Perfect Therapist (closed)

Ryan Watson tapped the business card between his carefully manicured fingers as he watched the elevator numbers tick up. Rachel Monroe was the name on the card. Rachel Monroe, psychotherapist.

Well, this is first, he thought, laughing softly to himself. Never thought I’d find myself here.

At 35 he was a self-made millionaire. In his 20’s he’d founded two software companies and taken them both public, cashing in enough stock options that he never needed to work again if he didn’t want to. And for the last five years he hadn’t wanted to. Expensive cars, a nice house in the hills, fine food – for the last five years he’d lived a life devoted entirely to enjoying himself. After all those 80-hour work weeks, he figured he’d earned it.

It was Vicki who had brought him here, here to Dr. Monroe. Lovely, sexy Vicki with her perfect tanned thighs and amazing tits. He’d thought she was the one, the real deal, the girl of his dreams. They’d been together for nine months and everything was perfect. Right up until she’d dropped the bomb.

“I don’t like any of it, Ryan. I don’t like being tied up. I don’t like the weird power games. I don’t want to be your sex slave. I’m done.”

And then she was gone, right out the door. Just like Zoe and Ariel and Lisa before her. Up until Vicki he’d been telling himself good riddance. If they weren’t interested in him, there were lots of other fish in the sea. But now a little seed of doubt had taken root. Maybe it WAS him. Maybe he WAS the weird one. Maybe he needed to figure out what was wrong with him, why he wanted to do the things he did.

And so he’d made some discreet inquiries and come up with Dr. Monroe’s name. “She’s amazing,” his friend had said. She mostly handled women and couples, but she’d agreed to see him anyway.

The elevator reached her floor. Slipping the card in the breast pocket of his jacket, Ryan approached her door, and rapped lightly with his knuckles.

“Come in,” a voice said.

Rachel Monroe

She did not sit, sitting implied she would have time to dally in the secretarial desk and computer. No, she didn't have time nor want to sit. Instead, she were bent over the desk top, reading across the outlook calendar to find the next appointment. A leisurely lunch and her only afternoon client was punctual, and single. Or so she had been lead to believe. She could appreciate his arriving on time, meant he was serious about this and not merely going through motions. Noted that within her mind to write down later.

Wonderful.. She straightened, touching fingers to pen and offered the man a dimpled smile and warm, "Welcome, Mr. Watson, I presume?" She questioned, as assumptions were the mother of chaos. Stuffing the pen into the messy bun atop her head, she came about the desk, hand held out and ready to shake his.

"I am Doctor Monroe, it is good to meet you." She did not miss a thing, not the shade of his eyes, the friendliness, and sexiness of his smile and his warm, dry but firm hand shake. "If you'd follow me, Sir." She turned, pulling her hand free of his with a brief smile and eye contact. She wanted him at ease, her air was casual as she could possibly be, laid back. It were time to see what this man needed her help with and not put him on defensive immediately. Rarely had she dealt with single men, and few would ever allow there might be a personality flaw needing addressed.

He had her respect and he had yet to open his mouth and really lay bare the details. "Please, pick a seat." She motioned to her dark brown over stuffed chairs and couch, letting him feel about her office space. She took pen, fresh pad of paper and her water bottle with her to join him. "Would you like a bottle of water?" She offered, looking only a bit up to find his face, those eyes and try to decipher that expression.

Ryan Watson

Dr. Monroe was younger than he had expected, and prettier, with intelligent green eyes that seemed to take everything in with a single glance. Friendly, but professional, she had a reserved manner about her, a way of keeping her distance without seeming distant. She was calmly reassuring without seeming familiar and he felt instantly at ease around her. His friend had been right, she was amazing. His last regrets evaporated.

She extended her hand and he briefly took it. Her grip was relaxed and self-assured. A confident, feminine handshake. “Dr. Monroe,” he nodded. “I’m Ryan Watson. Thanks for taking me on such short notice.”

She offered him a bottle of water and he waved it away. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He moved to one of the leather armchairs. “I’ll just sit here, if that’s all right.” She sat down opposite him with her pen poised, and leaned attentively forward.

“I’ll get right to the point, Dr. Monroe. I’m here because I’m … well … because of a sexual problem.”

He studied her face to see if she was shocked or offended, but she maintained her professional composure without displaying the slightest ripple of emotion. Reassured, he continued.

“I’ve developed … well I shouldn’t say ‘developed’ because I’ve always had it … I’ve always had a particular way of relating to women … in intimate situations. I supposed you might call it a fetish. And this … fetish … this proclivity of mine … well it gets in the way of my long-term relationships. And so I’m hoping that you might … well you might help me eliminate this tendency within myself. Or if not that, at least help me control it better.”

He rubbed the palms of his hands nervously on his wool trousers and looked expectantly at the therapist.

Dr. Monroe

Rachel watched him, like a hawk would eye a morsel skittering below. A well laid trap with those last words, almost as if she could volunteer blind answers and make assumptions. It were a trap only novice psychologists would walk in to, and one she would neatly step aside of. By suggesting a remedy, without knowing the finer details, she could possibly label him. Shame him in a sense by asking the wrong question and opening the door for him to storm right on out, thoroughly offended by her assumptions. Burnt on ever seeking help again.

Again, the mother of all fuck ups.

"Take a moment, Ryan.. May I call you Ryan?" She asked, easy going manner and smile back in place, no judgement upon her features nor in her tone as she shift to drink from the water bottle. She set the blank pad down upon the small table separating him and her, uncapped her bottle and drank deeply. Slowly returning cap to the bottle, watchful of him as he seemed to do as instructed.

Had she said 'chemical castration', his mind would shift to pedophilia as it is the most common word association of our era. If she asked about ladies garments, sex toys or even videos, it would equally imply less than manly behavior or desires and quite possibly be entirely wrong. All those things and even more did prance through her mind, but it was normal in her line of work to try and start solving the puzzle. "You use terms like fetish and proclivity as if it were.. taboo. Human sexuality is as natural as breathing, we are the only species that self shames over basic human needs. Forget the labels of society, no one fits into that perfect little box any way." She flashed another dimpled smile.

"Instead, I want you to tell me things that trigger this urge, this desire you have whenever you find yourself in an intimate exchange." It was then she picked back up the pad of paper and pulled pen from her hair.

Ryan Watson

The briefest flicker of emotion crossed her face. Her vivid green eyes had such a look of such steely intensity that Ryan was briefly taken aback. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the flicker of emotion was gone, and her placid professional mask dropped back into place. Clearly the doctor had hidden depths. Strangely, that brief glimpse into her psyche made him trust her even more. There wasn’t just jaded clinician sitting opposite him, but an actual person. There was a passion there that was curiously reassuring.

Reassuring … and rather attractive.

He laughed inwardly at himself. What are you going to do, Ryan? Hit on your new therapist five minutes into your first session with her? Probably not the best course of action. Still, he had to admit, she was very pretty – beautiful even, in a cold, severe sort of way. If her hair were looser, if she were wearing something just a little more revealing, if the circumstances were different ….

Steady, man, remember why you’re here.

“I want you to tell me things that trigger this urge, this desire you have whenever you find yourself in an intimate exchange.”

Ryan smiled at her. “You said ‘taboo’, doctor, but that’s just the problem. To me, it isn’t a taboo. To me, it feels perfectly normal. But the way that women respond to my tastes, I’m wondering if … well … if maybe it should be.

“It’s all about power,” he continued. “That’s at the root of it. Power is sexy. But in order for power to feel powerful, there needs to be a differential, wouldn’t you agree? There isn’t any strength without weakness. There isn’t any dominance without submission. I think that all men are a little dominant, and all women are a little submissive. It’s just natural given our physical differences. But my desire to dominate is particularly strong. If I’m with a woman … with her “intimately”… as you put it, I have to be in control of her. In absolute control. And the more she resists, the more she fights my control over her, the more I want to enforce it.

“All women are a little submissive, yes? But they also have limits, boundaries. There’s only so much of themselves they’re willing to surrender. The sort of total domination that I want … I just don’t think I’m going to find an intelligent, independent woman who's looking for that. My need for absolute control has destroyed my last four relationships. I’m not interested in having it destroy another. That’s why I’m here.”

Rachel Monroe

Those words he spoke, his 'fetish' as it were, were music to her ears. She had no idea just how tense she had become in waiting for him to reveal to her just what it was exactly. So many things went through her mind, so many fetishes, kinks, even severe sorts she was not keen on handling. Yet his? While it wasn't normal to seek help for being dominate, it wasn't horrid in a twisted way that would make her uncomfortable. She visibly relaxed, but moved to grab her bottled water as cover. So it wasn't sadist, nor masochist and definitely nothing sick like necrophilia. Some of the things she had seen and heard, well at times it were hard to keep a straight impartial face in this line of work.

Thank god for normal kinks...

So many thoughts went through her head as she drank, recapped the bottle and set it back down. "You are correct, all women have some submissiveness within them." Just some were much harder to get to that level of trust with, to see it. She did smile, her mind wandering as she look to his hands at that moment. A prickle of something caused goose bumps to ripple over scalp and down her back. A reaction to this? She had a reaction to what she saw, or heard? His hands were well manicured, strong by the look of them. Never had she noticed someone's hands before, nor vividly imagined what he did with them.

She stilled a long moment, mind a bit lost before managing to shake herself out of her confusion and focus once more. Did he truly believe that a personality 'flaw' as strong as domination could be easily pushed away? Forgotten? A trait one could learn to control? She had not read much on this subject matter, but from what she did recall, weren't dominate men already in complete control, at least of themselves? The puzzle just keeps getting more complicated by the minute.

"You wish to, suppress this aspect of your personality?" He seemed serious, quite so in fact by the hard look in his eyes.

Shit, is that even possible?

"Mr. Watson, are you familiar with the term, 'vanilla sex'?" Her mind snapping to clinical immediately as she made the air quotes on either side of her self. Looking then to his face, "Are you capable of enjoying, fully, the basic function without having to take control?" She held up a hand before he spoke, "This is just helping me find a base line of where to work from, as our time is almost up for today."

Ryan Watson

He laughed and shook his head when she said the words “vanilla sex”.

“If you’re asking if I can get an erection during normal sex … yeah sure. I’ve never had any trouble in that regard. If she’s willing, I can certainly perform … how did you put it … ‘the basic functions’. Insert Tab A in Slot B.

“But I don’t get much pleasure out of it. It’s like eating plain oatmeal … no flavor. And I always feel like I’m holding back. There’s always this urge to take things farther, to push it to extremes ….”

He gestured with his strong hands, pantomiming what he was describing.

“You know, pinning her down … pulling her hair … slapping her ass … maybe even choking her. Nothing really dangerous, nothing that would actually injure her. I’m not a sadist. I just want to control her, to let her know that I’m her master. Her owner. As I said, it’s not really about causing pain, it’s about dominance.

“And, really, it’s not even so much about the fucking … sorry … about the sex. It’s about all the other things that go along with the sex. There are certain conditions I have for a woman who I’m intimate with. Certain expectations for how she should act, how she should dress.”

He chuckled.

“Or maybe I should say how she should not dress. I may expect her to be naked whenever we’re alone together, for example. Or I may expect her to wear a collar in certain situations. I may expect her to not meet my gaze, or to wait on me like a servant. And if she fails to meet any of my expectations, there are, of course, punishments.”

Ryan studied Dr. Monroe’s face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to his words. This was the first time he’d ever described his dominance rituals to someone who wasn’t his sub. It was a strange feeling. The fact that she was a young, attractive woman didn’t help.

He realized that she’d agreed with him when he’d said that all women were submissive. Had that been an observation, or a confession?

Dr. Monroe

Rachel watched his animated speaking, the gestures with his hands and the light up on his facial expressions. The way he spoke, and even noted the change in his tone as he went over some of his desires. A smile lift as he apologized for using a crass term in front of her, it was endearing, thoughtful. Not commonly found in unsavory types of men.

"Mr. Watson, you may speak freely here in whatever terminology is more natural to you and not the business office. If you think before you speak, then you filter and it slows progress. So, do us both a favor, do not filter?" She wrote down 'choking', 'collar' and 'complete control'. She understood his analogy on plain oatmeal, she had been married long enough to know what plain was like quite well.

They would have to address the spanking, hair pulling and choking next visit for sure. He claimed not to be a sadist, but those terms are normally associated with punishment and pain. He had said that word as well, IF she did not do as instructed, he would punish her. HOW? was written down next to punished before she glanced up to the man before her once more.

"I understand that you are not married, correct? And you do not have a current girlfriend who may come to these sessions with you?" She asked, as only a woman could tell her exactly what it was Ryan was doing wrong. Thoughts came and went, most of them all chanting 'you can't help him, Rach', and by god! Why the hell would she want to!? He had no idea, and maybe that is where the issue rested? He had no idea the lifestyle out there, and perhaps he were looking in the wrong places? Well, obviously he was, because he would have a play mate by now instead of broken relationships.

She reminded herself she were married, unconsciously toying with her wedding band as she studied him. She had some reading to do when she got home tonight, better preparation for the next session with Mr. Watson was called for.

Ryan Watson

“Don’t filter,” he said, nodding. “I understand. I’ll try to be as open as possible.”

He glanced down at her notepad, but wasn’t able to see what she was writing. You know, he thought, I probably didn’t want to know. It was fascinating how matter-of-fact she was about all of this. He got the feeling he could tell her pretty much anything and she would still just calmly nod and write it down on her pad.

There was an element of exhibitionism to it, wasn’t there? There was something slightly erotic about sitting across from a fully-dressed woman and telling her in explicit detail about your sex life and your sexual fantasies. He wondered if hearing such things have any effect on her? Did it stir any fantasies of her own? Or was she too much of a professional?

He realized here was a part of him that hoped it did have an effect on her, even if she didn’t show it. He was glad that she’d told him to be as honest as possible. In the future, he’d make sure he didn’t hold anything back. He’d describe every minute detail, if that’s what she wanted.

“No, not married. No girlfriend. I’ll be coming to sessions alone.”

As he said it, he noticed her hand unconsciously went to her wedding band. Now that was interesting. Was it a subconscious signal to him to remind him that she was off limits? Or a subconscious signal to herself? Or did it mean nothing at all?

Is your husband aware of the sorts of things people tell you in your office, Dr. Monroe?

He glanced at his watch. “We’re out of time, aren’t we?”

She nodded. He stood up, adjusted his tie, and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob.

“I’ll try to be completely unfiltered the next time we talk. Thank you so much, doctor. I don’t know why, but I have a strong feeling that I’m going to be glad I decided to come to see you.”

Rachel Monroe

Standing, she walk with him back out into the outer room. Moving to the desk, she took out an appointment card, look to her schedule and wrote out a date. "Afternoon appointment, a week from today." She handed it to Mr. Watson with a smile easily given. He is a handsome man, a shame she did not have access to one of his previous lovers though. It would answer so many questions..

"Have a good night." She spoke, formality in place still as he had not relaxed enough around her. Give it time, he would become so and there would be no more mister and misses between them. Ryan was definitely a puzzle, one she hadn't experience with yet. A unique character, a dominate man wanting tamed.. Of course she knew his tastes were much deeper than a mere OCD or situational affection. If it were ONLY in the bed that Ryan needed to dominate, it could possibly be cured or curbed. But this man seemed to want to control everything in his environment.

She went home an hour later, after writing up her findings thus far with Ryan and writing down even more questions for her to research. She had many unanswered issues cropping up, mostly due to lack of experience. She was normally quite apt at her job and could handle any sexual disaster thrown at her.. but this one, was.. Going to be rough.

But rough in a good way or bad?

She spent a good part of the night reading up on erotic asphyxia, spankings and life styler's ideas of 'punishment'. And it was like that the next four days, after work hours and appointments, she would read. Still she did not fully understand but she had a clinical idea in her head of each aspect of these rituals in domination and submission. She just could not relate to it, why was it arousing?

She found videos on a few adult sites not four days after their first meeting. Getting a bit braver in her research. She hunted for any evidence that any man, prior to Ryan, had sought means to curb their dominate nature.. And she came up empty handed. But she certainly got an eye full and imagination over flowing with the 'kink' of what they dubbed BDSM. "Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism", and much like Dante's Inferno, there are levels to this. So many levels of such, or perhaps the term is better stated as "tastes" than levels. As each partnership is as unique as a snow flake, or human being. This relationship could never be text booked, purely based on the simple fact that no two relationships in a D/s, are the same as another's D/s relationship. This information was definitely making Ryan's case much harder.

Not to mention the dreams she was now having as a result of diving into this subject. The extremists of the lifestyle, did not appeal to her at all. But she knew many who would get off on public humiliation, spit on and whipped regularly. It wasn't her cup of tea, and at first look, was quite horrifying to even watch. But then it tapered down as videos came along of other's enjoying this sexual by-play. The things Ryan had mentioned were actually normal from the video's she watched, and not nearly as humiliating nor painful as she first believed.

They would have to get deeper into this, hands on maybe? .. Or not. That thought made her shiver, make her nipples peak and her confused mind turn inward to start analyzing.

Ryan Watson

Unsettled. That was the best word to describe how he felt. His first meeting with Dr. Monroe had left him unsettled.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting. Not that. Something more … concrete? A plan of action? A checklist? Ryan was accustomed to solving hard problems, and this was just another hard problem, right? There should be a way to solve it.

He’d gone to her so that she’d tell him what to do to fix things. But all she’d done was ask him questions. Not at all what he’d expected.

Still, he'd enjoyed talking to her.

No, correction, he had enjoyed how she listened to him. It wasn’t the talking itself, per se, but how she listened. Her eyes so focused and quick and observant. She was probably just doing her job, but having her pay such close attention to him had been intoxicating. It made him feel like he was the only thing that mattered to her … like he was the center of her universe.

He flashed back to one of his last scenes with Vicki. She’d been tied stark naked to a wooden frame, blindfolded, exposed, helpless. Exactly the sort of situation Ryan usually loved. But that time she’d been checked out. Her body had been there, but her mind had been somewhere else, somewhere not with him. And so the whole scene had fallen flat. After a little while he’d given up and untied her and told her to put on her pajamas.

But … what if it had been Rachel tied to that frame? What if it had been her staring back at him with those intense green eyes as he fingered her. What if she had surrendered herself to him completely, body and soul, making him feel like he was the center of her universe. No, not just the center, the totality.

He blinked, shocked where his thoughts had taken him. She’d told him to be unfiltered, but he probably shouldn’t mention that little detail at their next session. "Oh, yes, you should probably write down that I spent some time fantasizing about finger fucking you."

He silently reminded himself of that the following week as he knocked at her door for the second time.

Rachel Monroe

She left her hair loose, only pulling it back by a band across the crown. Dressed casually as before, a blouse of white and black trousers, open toe heels finished off the professional casual woman standing before him. A few buttons were undone of her blouse but nothing improper were showing, just the gold glint of a dainty chain hanging about her throat and down to vanish within the shirt.

He was her third and final client of the day, and the one primary one that had been on her mind the entire time. It was a distraction she could ill afford, and so at lunch she affirmed her mind and body to listen, behave and be professional! Hoping it worked, realizing it didn't have much sway when she opened the inner door and there he stood.

"Mr. Watson." She smiled a bright welcoming manner, her hand pulling the door wide open so he may enter the interiors. "Come in, have a seat. Would you like a bottle of water?" She had gone over many aspects of what were discussed the last visit with him and she noted a lot of holes in the initial conversation. She should tell him that there is no 'cure' for him, only stubborn pride and vanilla sex for his life time to look forward to.. She should.

It would not due to put the man into a depression or anger him unduly. She told herself and believed that it were a conclusion he himself would have to come to in order to benefit from their sessions. Now she only need to make him see that, as it made the most logical sense to her. Why stuff a wolf into sheep clothing for the remainder of his life span? It would only create more broken relationships. No, the best way was for him to see himself as he is, without shame of being him.

"Today I want to discuss with you, consent." She took a seat across from where he had sat last time, but sat forward and lean to the arm rest upon elbow, watching him settle. She motioned to the small fridge to see how he would react to being given freedom to fetch himself a drink.

Ryan Watson

Her hair was loose. That was a change. He wondered if maybe it was for his benefit. Was it a way to put him more at ease? Or perhaps a test?

Ryan, when the hell did you get so paranoid?

He chuckled inwardly at himself. It probably didn’t mean anything. Although he had to admit he liked seeing it down. He hoped she kept it like that.

She gestured toward her fridge, offering him water, but he shook his head. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

Her body language was different as well. Not quite so reserved. Slightly more attentive. Slightly more casual. Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe he wasn’t imagining things.
“Consent?” he smiled. “You want to talk about consent?”

He tapped the side of his finger against his lips.

“It’s an interesting subject, doctor. It’s interesting because I think it’s possible for someone – a woman, for example – for someone to want something very badly without even realizing that they want it. And so if you ask her if she wants it, she’ll tell you “no, no thank you, I’d prefer not”. But if you simply give her the thing she wants without asking … then she’s likely to realize how much she wanted it all along.

“I never forced myself on any of my partners, Dr. Monroe, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. I merely gave them what they needed – protection, guidance, stability – without asking their permission. And they all enjoyed it, at first at least. It wasn’t the submission itself that bothered them, but the amount of control I expected.”

Rachel Monroe

Green eyes pinned him, searching his expression as silence ticked between them. Curios, how he saw things, and he may very well be right but he had no idea that true submission was considered a gift offered, not taken. A gift of trust so profound, that went so deep that no matter what he chose to do to her, she would trust him with her very life. He ambushed his own relationships, and did not realize it. Still she watched him as he spoke, settled into the chair opposite of her.

"That is not the consent in which I speak of." Her eyes darkened as she smiled, but she had to think on his answer a long moment. "I do not believe you would have to force yourself on any woman. No, it is a different sort of consent entirely." She shift forward in her chair, rose colored lips lift even more so with her thoughts. "Would you agree with me that Trust is earned, Mr. Watson? Respect is also essential with earning trust?"

She shift, the scent of her tangerine shampoo heavy in the locks near her face. It relaxed her, not quite sure why but she loved oranges, tangerines, scents, food. Why she noticed that at this particular moment was strange, but at least she smelled nice. Brows knit in a frown, her body shifting in her chair as she tried to collect her thoughts as he answered her question.

She switched directions as easily as shifting a car into third and picking up speed. Her heart was racing a bit, his presence was filling up her office space so much so she thought she scented his cologne in the air mixing with her own. Again, why would she notice that? Her clinical brain shouted what the obvious answer was, DOMINATE MALE ALERT!

She cleared her throat and picked up where she was U-turning towards before he distracted her by smelling too good. "Tell me, in as much detail as you can recall your first encounter with domination, what did you do, ask of your lover? and more importantly, how did you feel at this new discovery?"

He smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“My first experience with being dominant? It was shortly after I got out of college. I was seeing this woman named Julia. We weren’t together long, just a month or two. This was back when I didn’t have any money. I was working crazy hours, and she was working crazy hours and even though we were theoretically in a relationship, we didn’t see each other very often … only a couple of times a week. Not a great situation.

“Anyway, it started out with a fight. I don’t even remember what it was over. Something stupid. I do remember being pissed off that we were wasting one of our rare nights together arguing. At first it was just raised voices, then it turned into shouting, and then … she picked up a coffee mug and threw it against the wall. It shattered, pieces flying everywhere. I can still remember the look in her eyes – fierce, out of control.

“So I grabbed her. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was just trying to restrain her, you know? Keep her from doing anything else crazy. She struggled, of course, but she was a tiny little thing and I was a lot stronger. There wasn’t much she could do to fight back. I got her arms pinned, picked her up so her feet were off the ground. And the whole time I’m trying to talk her down.

“And then something snapped. Something snapped with both of us. One second I’m holding her as tight as I can, telling her to chill out, and she’s thrashing around and calling me a cocksucker. And the next second we’re kissing with this crazy wild sort of passion. It’s like all the anger and frustration we were feeling spilled over into pure animal lust. We couldn’t hold back, either one of us.

“It wasn’t gentle, loving sex. It was pretty rough and brutal. I stripped her naked right there where we stood. I remember the sound of her buttons hitting the floor as I tore off her shirt. I remember dragging her pants and panties down her legs while she was still trying to kick me. I pinned her arms behind her back with one hand, while I slipped my other hand between her skinny thighs. She was sopping wet. I remember the look on her face when I slid two fingers up inside her pussy – her shame, her helplessness, her arousal.

“I bent her over the kitchen table, whipped out my cock, and nailed her. Straight to the hilt in one stroke. Fucked her hard and fast with my hand tight on the back of her neck, pinning her down, not letting her wriggle away. The feeling of raw power, of control … it was amazing. I never knew that sex could be like that ….”

He paused and looked straight at Dr. Monroe. Straight into her intense green eyes.

“Anyway,” he said, smiling. “You did say you wanted to know about my first encounter with domination. And you did say didn’t want me to filter anything. Was that what you had in mind?”

Dr. Monroe

She had a vivid picture in mind of their encounter, even pictured a tiny slip of a young woman held off the ground. While Ryan wasn't huge, he wasn't small either, yet she still saw the young woman dangling there as he spoke. And as she listened to him recite his tale, she noted the lack of emotion up until the ending.

"It is close enough to what it was I was asking of you, Mr. Watson." She flashed a brief smile, straightening up a bit and clearing her throat. She drank a bit as she thought over what he had, and had not told her. She lift her hair off her nape and over one shoulder, taking up pen and pad as she released the water bottle. It was quite warm today, in the room...

"What was going through your mind, at each step of this encounter between you and Julia? Obviously you started out with wanting to contain her, so she did not hurt you or herself?" She asked him for verification, "What went through your head, how did it go from restraining her from hurting and angry with each other, to unbridled lust and sex? And I don't mean physical how to, I know how. I want to know your thoughts, scattered and chaotic? Controlled? What went through YOUR head, Ryan?" She paused there and wrote down a few words, triggers as it were.

"First, you had her pinned and unable to continue fighting. What were your thoughts there in that moment." She held up her hand before he could speak further, as she had more.

"Second thing you recall in this encounter is ripping her shirt open, or off?" She asked but stated as well, "What were your thoughts there, what went through your head.. and the same for stripping her, while pinned and doing as you wanted to her? Were you aiming to shut her up? Were you frustrated from lack of sex? Were you thinking she were hysterical?" She trailed off there, pen waiting to write what words did come out of his mouth next.

Ryan Watson

He paused to consider.

“What was I thinking? Hmmmmm. At first, yes, I was just trying to hold her down so she didn’t get more violent. I remember feeling unusually calm when I grabbed her. Getting physical made everything simpler, easier, not so messy and complicated. She was out of control and I was going to stop her.

“But once I had her, the sense of power was overwhelming. I hadn’t realized just how much stronger I was than her, just how much I could control her. The feeling of her being small, weak, helpless – it was intensely arousing. One second I was pissed off at her, and the next I wanted to fuck her so badly I could barely hold back.

“So I was the one who initiated sexual contact. I kissed her first, and it was only after a while that she started kissing me back. She wanted it, don’t get me wrong, but I made her want it, and that only made it hotter.

“When I started stripping her, I wasn’t mad anymore. I wasn’t trying to punish her. I wanted to … own her. There’s a huge power differential when a woman is naked and you’re not. When her body is on display, nothing hidden at all, it’s such an act of surrender. I wanted her naked so I could take possession of her. I remember running my hands over her slim, naked body and thinking, ‘this is mine’. I might have even said it aloud ….”

He paused, licking his lips. Without saying a word he got up, walked over to her mini refrigerator, and took out a bottle of water. As he cracked it open, Rachel noticed that he was erect, the line of his penis clearly visible through his trousers. He took a long, deep drink, then looked down at her.

“Am I giving you what you need, doctor? Is there anything else you want?”

Rachel Monroe

Her smile quirked up at one corner, "Yes. Ryan, you are coming along quite nicely." She did not fail to notice his form, his sudden stance and purposeful strides to fetch a bottle of water. Nor did it escape her notice he was now thoroughly aroused where before, he was merely reciting an old memory as if it were news print and not reality.

"Julia was your first, the discovery moment in your life. You may have liked the young lady, but you did not love her. Am I correct?" She asked, knowing the answer already to this question. She felt a shiver skirt down her back once more, heightening her senses as if sniffing the damn air for just a hint of him. It caused her to frown, her mind to scatter and words to simply not come forth. So she too reached for her bottle and drank deeply, watching the man as he came back to rejoin her. She was some what aroused and knew it, but still in complete control enough to shut most of it down immediately.

It happens.

Especially in her line of work and the things she hears each day of the week. It is enough to make a grown woman invest in a toy company. Maybe even batteries, but they do have those new kind that plug in to a wall socket...
"Where was I?" She glanced down with flushed cheeks to the legal pad and went back to reading, trying to pick it up where she left off. "Yes... " She read along her notes, what few there were and recalled Julia. "You did not love her, youth and experimental phases of all our lives, it would be rare to have that epic movie love and first sight thing.." She laughed, a sarcastic sounding laugh, as she did not believe in that none sense either.

"So tell me of your last relationship. Her name, because I do believe you actually might have begun to love the woman who broke it off this last time. It is why you're here, yes? To control a problem, or to fix one, you have to know everything. Why it happens, what triggers the reactions from you, and how it makes you feel. Well, we know how you started. Let's hear about your last lady. What was the breaking point of your relationship, if she told you or you have a good idea?" She eyed him, her head lowering a little as she peered up to capture his eyes and attention.

"Her name? How long were you both together and what exactly set her off to change her mind and break up?" She listened as he spoke, but she began to make a list of items to purchase, as their next visit was going to get more hands on.

Was that a slight flush to her cheeks? Had he managed to embarrass Dr. Monroe? He smiled at the thought. Maybe she didn’t have perfect self-control after all. Maybe there was a human being behind that professional façade.

“My last relationship? That would be Victoria … Vicki. We were together almost two years. She’s in advertising. Very stylish, very sophisticated. We met at a party at ... the name isn’t important … you’d recognize it if I said it … at the house of a mutual friend.

“We hit it off almost immediately. It was a whirlwind romance. For our third date I flew us to Paris. We were in love, I suppose. And once it was clear that things were becoming serious, I told her about my expectations.

“She went along at first, I suppose because she cared about me. And at first, it must have seemed like a game. In Paris I bought rope at a nearby hardware store and tied her to our hotel bed – that was her first taste of what it would be like with me.

“I can still remember the look on her face as I tightened the knots – desire, surprise, a little touch of fear. She had a very elegant body, lean and brown and sleek. She always looked so composed when she was dressed in one of her smart little suits, so self-contained. Seeing her spread out like that in Paris, naked and exposed … it was such a transformation!

“I claimed her in that hotel room, took possession of her body. I made her come with my hand, over and over again, without a break, until all her composure was gone and she was desperate with arousal. And then I marked her. I came in her mouth, and in her pussy, and even in her ass. That was another first for Vicki.

“The rules of our relationship were simple. As long as we were in public, should could do as she pleased. But when we were alone together, I expected complete submission. She would be naked at all times, and collared, and only refer to me as Mr. Watson, or sir. She would perform domestic tasks that would emphasize her submissiveness – washing the floor, for example, or cleaning the bathroom. She would sit at my feet at dinner and take her food from my hand. And, of course, she would make herself sexually available to me whenever and however I wanted. This usually involved restraints, and occasionally an element of pain ….

“I don’t think there was one thing that ended it. I just think that all along she was doing it not because she wanted it herself, but because she wanted to make me happy.” He laughed bitterly. “But in the end, should couldn’t keep it up. It didn’t come naturally to her, and she always chafed at the bit. Eventually she just couldn’t take it any more … and she told me so. And that’s how I wound up here.”

He took another deep drink of water. His erection hadn’t subsided during his story. If anything, it was larger.

Rachel Monroe

She sat back as he spoke, listening to the cadence of his voice as pictures of his little liaisons played through her head, arousing her. Eyes stayed on his profile, his stance and expression, telling her a little more about this man before her.. but not a whole hell of a lot. His tailored suit wasn't tailored well enough to hide his reaction to the memory, nor mask from her prying eyes. Was it intentional? She had to wonder..

A finger toyed at her lower lip, rubbing back and forth as her mind churned over this man's dilemma. How do you break a dominate man? She almost chuckled aloud with that thought. And as she pictured him fucking some naked hot model, she had to wonder if he ever even made a concession? She could clearly see how he felt, if she were to ask him, no doubt he would tell her.

Now the question were, do she try and help him change his personality.. Which we all know, doesn't really work, or does she try and help him get to an understanding of how a D/s relationship would work best and last longer? He wanted to cease desiring to dominate, but it wasn't for the right reasons. He was simply giving up, instead of bending.

"Did you and Vicki have any rules, a safe word? Did she have a list of things she never wanted to do, and did you respect that? Did you give her time off to simply be herself? Were she permitted clothing and rest when she was on her period?" She asked out right.