Therapy

I tried to figure out just what it was I'd seen. I assumed it was fake, that Linda was part of the act, but I'd bet any amount of money that blush had been real.

"Helen, that was all part of the show wasn't it? Linda, I mean. She was Zorro's partner or assistant or whatever."

"No. She was just one of the customers. Nobody knows who he's going to pick."

"You mean he just roams around and randomly picks some woman and does all that to her?" I asked incredulously.

"That's it exactly."

"Oh, man. You mean he just picks any woman? And she goes with him?"

"You saw it."

I was going to have to sit on my hands again. I think I was in a bigger daze than Linda had been.

"But Helen, why would she...why would they...I mean, they all went crazy...the place is jammed...he stripped her in public...anyone could be...I don't get it."

Helen laughed again.

Linda returned to her table. She was fully dressed, but still wore the collar. This time I got a better look. There was a small padlock locked to the ring.

"Helen, she still has the collar on."

"It's customary. She'll wear it home. You'll see girls who come to the club in a collar. If she has a padlock on it, it means she's a previous 'victim'. It's quite a status symbol."

I pointed to a girl at a nearby table. "You mean that girl over there has been..."

"Yes. That lock on her collar means she was selected on one occasion or another."

"Really? Her? I'm sorry I missed that. Helen, you realize that you have zero chance of making it home unmolested."

"I'm off tomorrow. Do your worst."

"This must be some kind of payback for the tricks I played on Karen and Rebecca."

"You can look at it that way if you want."

"We're leaving now." I wrapped my hand around Helen's wrist and dragged her toward the door. As soon as I got Helen outside, I tied her hands behind her and made her ride home that way. When I got her home, I tied her down, spanked her, fucked her. She was obviously as aroused as I was by what we'd seen. Unfortunately, I felt like my performance was somewhat less than she would have hoped for. As turned on as I had been by Zorro's show, it had also left me rather drained. Besides being low on energy, I lacked the flair Zorro had exhibited. I could learn a thing or two from that guy.

In the morning, I took Helen back to her house on my way to work.

That evening, I gave Helen a call. "Damn it, Helen. I can't decide whether to thank you or curse you. I've been a total space cadet all day. I might as well have stayed home from work. On the other hand, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Where did you hear about that?"

"One of my students took me one night. I immediately thought of you, so I made friends with Ted and arranged to get you in."

"I owe you one. That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"I could tell you were quite affected."

"But so were you. That's what I don't understand. I know why I liked it, but what do women see in it?"

"I'm not sure I can explain, but I'll try. You're sitting there and that guy starts roaming the room. The idea that he might choose you just turns your mind to mush. You noticed how quiet it is when he's making the rounds. Every woman in the room is a total zombie. And if he stops at your table, you go into panic overload. Your heart starts pounding so hard you're sure it's going to explode, your mouth gets dry, your hands are shaking, you hardly know your own name. It's truly incredible. I don't know of any drugs that'll give you a rush like that. You saw how dazed Linda was through the whole thing. The rest of us weren't much better off."

"So that explains the pandemonium when it's over. The sudden release of all that pent up tension."

"Exactly. It reminds me of an early Beatles concert. He gets you all worked up, then you just scream and yell and let it all go. It's ever so much fun."

"Do they provide earplugs?"

I was fascinated by Helen's comments. I knew from personal experience that women could have that sort of effect on men, but I'd never truly realized that women could be similarly affected, especially en masse. It was an amazing psychological phenomenon. Someone should study it. I knew just the person.

"So, Mr. Canfield, where were we when we quit last time?"

It was my weekly meeting with Dr. Ann. It was apparently very important to her to be addressed as Dr. Culver, since she was being careful to behave in such a way as to produce that result. I wondered if she was capable of appreciating my little behavior modification experiment.

"Well, Dr. Culver, we were discussing the fact that I was able to have a reasonably normal relationship with Meg, my deceased wife, despite the fact that I regularly tied her up and spanked her."

"I still don't see how you can have a truly equal relationship on such a basis."

"That's because you're only looking at one aspect of the relationship. The fact that I was dominant sexually did not automatically make me dominant in any other domain. We both had our areas of dominance and expertise. Something as complicated as a marriage, especially with children and a business involved, requires a lot of love and cooperation. The fact that she got tied up and spanked didn't make her less than a full partner. Nothing took place, and that includes sexual activities, in which she wasn't an equal and willing participant. I should also point out that sexual dominance of that type carries with it the responsibility to see the your partner's pleasure. I took that responsibility seriously."

"I think I see what you mean, but it still doesn't seem right. I don't see how someone could surrender herself like that."

"Hey, don't knock it if you haven't tried it."

"Mr. Canfield, I thought I made it clear that this discussion was not to involve me personally."

"Back off, doc. The remark was rhetorical, not personal. I find it disturbing that you chose to take it personally. If you keep that up, we're going to get confused about which of us is the therapist."

"Yes, you're right. I apologize. Please continue."

I changed the subject. It was easy to do with Dr. Ann. She tended to be intuitive rather than logical. Jumping from one topic to another came natural to her. This gave me a major advantage. I could change the subject whenever I chose and she'd go along, but if I wanted to stay on a subject, I would pursue it relentlessly and she would, perforce, follow along. The result was that I was in charge of the agenda for our discussions.

There was one other thing that was interesting. My remark had been rhetorical, but it was far from random. I was probing for a reaction and had gotten one. She'd nearly had a fit when I'd suggested, even tangentially, that she try it. I'd backed her down easily enough, but her reaction had left a monster blip on my radar.

I kept the rest of the session focused on matters of no consequence. I told her some stuff about my childhood and early dating experiences, but stayed away from anything to do with bondage.

That evening I gave Helen a call. "Hi, Helen. It's Bob."

"So it is. What's up?"

"How would you like to go in for therapy?" "Are you nuts? I'm a better counselor than 90% of the therapists out there."

"I know that. That's why you're perfect for this job."

"I see. You need my help with one of your little jokes."

"Quick on the uptake, as always."

"So what are you up to?"

"You have this personal problem that you need some help in resolving..."

I explained what I had in mind to Helen. She thought it was hilarious and agreed to help. I told her I'd pay the tab if her insurance didn't cover it.

"One other thing," I told her. "She knows I've been involved with someone named Helen. It might be a good idea to go by your middle name."

"Helen is my middle name, Bob."

"And your first name?"

"Blanche."

"I see. Well, perhaps Blanche should seek Dr. Ann's assistance."

About ten days later, Helen called me.

"Well, I had my first meeting with Dr. Ann."

"What did you think?"

"She's nice enough. Well intentioned, takes her work seriously. Wants to do good. One odd little thing. After she called me Blanche, I called her Ann. She didn't object. We're on a first name basis."

"Odd. Well, I'm kind of pushy with her. I'm probably not her favorite client."

"I think it's more than that. I think men in general frighten her. She keeps her distance."

"Interesting. I knew you'd see things that went over my head. So how did she react to your little problem?"

"She seemed both fascinated and horrified. I told her I'd always had fantasies of being dominated sexually and lately I'd become fascinated with thoughts of being spanked. She listened quite intently. She also mentioned in passing that she had another patient with similar issues."

"She mentioned me?"

"No. She wouldn't even reveal the gender of her other patient, but then late in the session she mentioned it was interesting to hear about these issues from a woman's perspective, thereby revealing your gender. She's ethical, but doesn't always connect all the dots."

"Anything else of interest?"

"Not really. This was just an introductory encounter. She did seem somewhat vehement in her assurances that we would expunge these embarrassing and degrading desires from my psyche."

"Not exactly a live and let live approach, huh."

"Far from it. I think we've definitely rung the bell that makes her salivate."

"Good work, Dr. Pavlov. Now for a bit of rat running."

"Not immediately. It will take me a couple of sessions to bring her to that point, but we'll get there. She's not hard to read."

"Mr. Canfield, I've been thinking about your case, and I really feel we need to address these problems you have with women if we're going to make any progress."

It was my weekly session with Dr. Ann. She was showing more initiative than usual, wanting to impose her own goals on my therapy. Apparently, my introduction of 'Blanche' into her stable of clients had backfired. She was determined not only to cure Blanche of her problem, she was going to cure me of Blanche's problem.

"Dr. Culver, with all due respect, I think I've made it clear that I don't consider my 'problem' with women to be a problem, and that I have no interest in being 'cured' of these tendencies."

"I'm aware of the limited goals you've set for yourself, but I think a more systemic approach is called for. I don't see how you can reach these limited goals without addressing your overall attitudes toward women."

"Okay. I can see the validity of that approach," I lied. "Give it a shot." I didn't really think she had any chance of having a real impact on what were some of my more deep seated feelings, but I was amused by the irony of humoring her delusions of adequacy.

"Wonderful. Why don't you tell me about how these feelings came about."

"I don't know where they came from."

"Well, then why don't you tell me about when you first became aware of them."

Dr. Ann had suddenly launched herself into the analysis of feelings that had previously been taboo, and done so with enthusiasm. It made me wonder. Was she really interested in curing me of my problem, or had she been provided with an excuse for a clinical exploration of feelings that had always frightened her? I couldn't tell. Maybe Helen would have some thoughts.

I let Dr. Ann lead me around through my past for the rest of the session, searching for clues to the seeds of my perversion, as she now clearly thought of it. I went along for the ride and mostly answered her questions honestly, simply because there was no reason to do otherwise. On a couple of occasions, I fabricated answers to provide her with things she clearly wanted to hear. She was delighted and told me what wonderful progress we were making. Perhaps Dr. Ann's newfound dedication to my salvation was a blessing in disguise. Dr. Ann was happily pretending to be gainfully employed, we were costing the insurance company a bunch of money, and I was amusing myself by admiring her legs, imagining how nice they would look with a few feet of rope wrapped tightly around her ankles. A good time was had by all.

A couple of days later, I talked to Helen again. I told her of Dr. Ann's crusade to cure me and she told me Blanche's problem was being pursued with equal zeal. Dr. Ann had been informed that Blanche had always had these feelings, but that they had been inflamed recently when she had visited a bar that featured a male stripper.

"Dr. Ann says I'm making wonderful progress," Helen informed me.

"That's great news. And after only two sessions. I am likewise making wonderful progress now that we're focusing in on what Dr. Ann has decided is the real problem."

"We should celebrate."

"We will, but not until Dr. Ann joins the party. How soon?"

"She's nosing around the bait now. She's a bit confused about how seeing a male stripper causes me to want to be spanked. I told her he has that affect on everyone. She got this weird look on her face and changed the subject."

"Do you think you scared her off?"

"No, but she was clearly disturbed by the idea. I'll give her a week to stew, then set the hook."

"Anything I can do in the meantime?"

Helen considered a moment. "No...Yes, there is. Encourage her. My job will be easier if she thinks she's being successful in treating you. If she feels she's having a real impact on your problem, she's more likely to take on the bigger one I'm going to present her with."

"Got it. I'm certain I see the error of my ways."

At my next meeting with Dr. Ann, I told her I'd done some thinking about our conversations, and I wanted to explore more conventional relationships. Dr. Ann just glowed. She enthused about how much more satisfying I would find a truly equal relationship. While she jabbered on, I looked around for the barf bags. Not seeing any, I turned my attention to her legs again. It was good that I found them so distracting. She was making me angry. The implication of her comments was to disparage my relationship with Meg. Despite our bedroom games, Meg and I had had an equal relationship and Meg was nobody's patsy. She didn't let anyone push her around. I was surprised that Dr. Ann was so insensitive in this regard, but as Helen had pointed out, she just didn't connect all the dots.

That evening I called Helen. "Okay, Helen. Your turn."

"How did it go?"

"I told her I was convinced and wanted to seek out a normal relationship."

"She bought it?"

"She could hardly control herself. She just beamed. I thought I was going to get radiation burns. Late in the session, she slipped up and addressed me as Bob. I let her get away with it."

"The fact that she did it means she's letting her guard down. This should be pretty easy."

"Go for it."

Two days later, Helen called me at work. She had just left Dr. Ann's.

"Done," she announced.

"She went for it?"

"Hook, line, and sinker. The rat is in the maze."

"So tell me what happened."

"I told her how much she had helped me, how I was beginning to come to terms with my lack of self esteem and that I deserved something better than abuse..."

"Radiation burns?"

"Third degree. Then I zinged her. I told her I'd been out with the girls, and we'd been to ladies night again. The feelings had come back stronger than ever. When I'd gotten home, I'd called my boyfriend and tried to get him to spank me."

"That's a bit heavy handed. She fell for that?"

"Of course she fell for that. I was offering her a chance to rescue me. Dr. Ann does not look a gift horse in the mouth."

"So then what?"

"She said I should stay away from ladies night. I told her it wasn't that easy. Everybody went there, and besides, it had the same effect on everybody. A couple of weeks ago, Debbie had talked her husband into giving her a spanking and he'd liked it so much he spanks her all the time now."

"I can't believe even she didn't see through all this."

"Trust me, Bob. I know what I'm doing. Now she gets to rescue everybody. I told her I didn't understand why this was happening and suggested she come to ladies night with me. Someone with her training could figure it out. When I left, she was busily girding herself to enter the lion's den."

"Oh, Helen, you have no idea how badly I want to go along on this one."

"I can imagine, but as you yourself pointed out, it won't work."

"I know that. I can't be at the table with her, and barring that, there's not much point. But that doesn't keep me from wanting it. Call me when you get home. I don't care if it's three in the morning. I probably won't sleep anyway."

"Okay, okay, you'll hear from me."

Tuesday night, I tried to relax, but couldn't. I paced around the house, sat by the phone, paced some more. It occurred to me that I was letting myself get very worked up over this. This was almost as bad as the night Helen had taken me to the club. I wondered why. Part of it, of course, was the fact that I didn't have much else to do. Other than my business, there wasn't a lot going on in my life. Perhaps this was my feeble attempt to get a life. I knew it was more than that. I was having a great time conspiring with Helen. She had been right when she pointed out that we weren't meant to be lovers, but she made a great friend, and since neither of us had anything else going on at the moment, a little recreational sex was nice also. But it wasn't just Helen. I knew what it was. I had spent entirely too much time staring at Dr. Ann's legs, and she had cast her spell on me. I really didn't think we were compatible, but it didn't matter. I wanted her--badly. All my crap about finding the right person, having a real relationship, replacing what I had had with Meg...What I really wanted was to wind some rope around Dr. Ann's slender limbs, spank her til she screamed, and fuck her til I died. Thank you, Dr. Ann, for putting me in touch with my true feelings.

These thoughts did not interrupt my pacing. I'd tried to read, watch TV, any number of things. My concentration was zilch. It was midnight. Zorro would have finished over an hour ago. What was happening? Maybe something went wrong. Maybe I should have gone. Maybe...

The phone rang. "Hello," I nearly shouted.

"Bob, calm down."

"How'd it go?"

"It went fine."

"So tell me about it."

"You really are in a state. Sit down and relax, I can hear you pacing."

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"Okay. We got there a little before nine and took a small table about in the middle. At nine, Gary, he's the first guy--you saw him--started his act. Dr. Ann kept up a running commentary of psychological goonbabble through the whole thing. Repression, projection, sublimation, a whole litany of crap. She was feeling smug and superior. After Gary finished, like you, she asked me what the big deal was. I told her the next one was the big deal. By the time Zorro started..."

"By the way, what's Zorro's really called?"

"Nobody knows. He doesn't use a stage name and nobody knows who he is. Everybody calls him Zorro for the same reason you did."

"Really."

"Anyway, by the time it was time for Zorro to start, Dr. Ann had a couple of drinks in her and was more relaxed. She perked up when the lights went out and it got quiet, then jumped when the thunderbolt happened and Zorro appeared. She started up her commentary again, going on about the mask and the outfit, but backed off a bit when he pulled out the handcuffs. When he leapt off the stage, she shut up in mid-sentence and I didn't hear another peep out of her the whole time. He did his usual tour of the room. He didn't stop at our table, but he paused at the table behind us. He tilted a girl's face up and looked into her eyes, then moved on. Dr. Ann just gaped. He really is a commanding presence, what with the mask and the cape and the way his voice rumbles over the PA. Like everyone else, she couldn't take her eyes off him. The woman he finally chose was at the next table. It couldn't have been better. It happened three feet from her. The woman he chose was named Susan. He made Susan stand and locked her hands behind her, then put her collar on her, leashed her, and led her away. I swear Dr. Ann's eyes were going to pop out of her head."