Control

I was a bit nervous to get out of my car. I had made this appointment weeks ago and was sure it was the right decision. I had declared I needed a change and he was the only one I trusted to help me realize it. But at that moment, I started to have doubts and regrets.

What would a father think of his daughter in such a situation? Would he think he failed as a parent? Would he scold me and shame me for the things I might have to confess? He had always been the consummate professional whenever I had any other problem. He'd helped me through depression, breakups, and even the death of my favorite aunt, his own sister, all while maintaining perfect balance between compassion, understanding and professionalism. He was an amazing counsellor and the fact that he was my daddy didn't even factor into my evaluation.

I contemplated turning around and going home but I willed my body forward, through the doors labeled Dr. Carter's Family and Sex Therapy Center, and then through the one that read Dr. Reginald Carter, Ph.D. I let my mind wander to press through the nerves, and before I knew it I was lying on daddy's lounge and hearing, "so what brings you in today, Aaliyah?"

Shit... Time to talk, I thought as I was snapped back to the here and now by daddy's question. It was like waiting in line for a roller coaster for an hour, then when you're finally seated and strapped in your only thought is, why the hell did I do this to myself. But at that point your only option is to sit back and enjoy the ride knowing there will be scary parts, but it will ultimately lead to excitement, exhilaration, and enjoyment.

"I... uh... ok, so promise not to judge." I should have known what his response would be.

"Of course. I am not here to judge, but to listen. I am not your father when you're in this room. I am your counselor. Please, speak freely whenever you are ready." His words always seemed to carry more weight when he was in counsellor mode. Every syllable is meant so sincerely as evidenced by his deliberate, but relaxing tone and the bass in his voice. It was almost hypnotic and it always opened me right up.

"I think I might be a nymphomaniac," I almost blurted after taking a deep breath. Daddy didn't even flinch, as if he didn't just hear his daughter declare herself a slut. He just seemed to follow his normal procedure, but with authentic concern rather than robotically.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?"

"I've been... bad... really bad. I've always loved sex but lately it's gotten way out of hand. It's like I don't have control of myself whenever I'm... aroused."

He thought for a second. "Many people tend to act differently when aroused. It's quite normal, in fact. Couples may try things they never thought they would in the midst of a passionate moment. And as time goes on, a woman's libido causes her to expand her sexual horizons. Does this sound like what you are experiencing?"

"Yes, but, it goes beyond what I like in the bedroom. If I simply liked to have kinky sex with one guy, that'd be normal. But it's not just about what I like when I'm aroused, it's the fact that I'm always horny and it doesn't matter who's around when I am."

"And, you end up having sex with inappropriate people?"

"Yes." I admitted, content he didn't seem to want specifics.

"Like whom?"

Shit. "I had sex with my professor. He's... older. I was in his office and I was flirting with him a little, hoping it could help my grade, then he just shoved his hand up my skirt unexpectedly. My first instinct was to run but then I got so turned on... I just let him have his way." I told him the most mild story, hoping it would be enough to understand my plight.

"And what else?"

"Wha... what do you mean what else? I told you-"

"One tryst doesn't warrant a diagnosis of nymphomania. Tell me what else you've done," daddy said after writing something in his notes.

I then divulged more private information about my sex life to my father. I told him how I keep fucking my ex boyfriend even though I hate him. I told him about the time I offered Pastor Kyle a blow job, which, of course, he turned down... the first time. Then he pressed me more and I confessed the time I fucked the football team after their homecoming win. I couldn't even count the number of cocks that went inside me that day.

"Is that enough evidence, Dr. Daddy?" I asked, hoping it was.

"Hmm... so you've had consensual sex with a number of guys. That makes you a slut, not a nymphomaniac."

I looked up, surprised and confused daddy had just called me a slut. He picked up on my objection through my facial expressions.

"Listen, there is nothing wrong with being a slut. Most people are - men and women. Before I got married, I was, and so was my your mother. You can and should enjoy as much sex as you want. Only, I would advise you to be safer in the future. Keep condoms in your purse if you must. But other than that, you're a perfectly normal, beautiful, sexy young woman and you should relish your youth."

"But daddy... I want to be married one day. I'm twenty-four now and I think about it more and more, but the way things are going I won't be able to slow down long enough to even get into a relationship. And those guys weren't even the worst part! You remember my roommate Jessica, right?"

"Umm, yes."

"Well, she doesn't even trust me alone with her boyfriend because I just can't help myself. Even she knows there's something wrong with me!"

"Did you ever try to sleep with Jessica's boyfriend?"

"Try to? I tried not to! The first night she introduced us I wanted him so bad. He was just so forbidden, I had to have a taste. A few weeks later we ran into each other at a ball game. He was with his friends and I was on a date. I waited for him to go to the bathroom and basically threw myself on him. We ended up having sex in a stall.

"What would make someone do that? I could have chosen any of those guys, but I picked Francis, and still went home with my date and fucked him before I had even showered. Who does that to a life-long friend!?"

Daddy scribbled on his notepad for a while then looked up. "I see. This does cause some concern," he said, not in judgement but finally starting to be convinced by the mountain of evidence. I felt the need to add a kicker, lest he try and minimize the depth of my whoredom.

"And that's not even the worst of it!" I paused and took a breath. "I was trying to work this out on my own, so I decided I could expend some of my energy in the gym instead of on a guy. I got a really good workout - so good that when I woke up the next morning, I was really sore. Then I called Ben over to give me a massage, thinking my brother would be the safest option."

Daddy's eye brows rose slightly as he wrote. I continued. "He brought his massage table and towels and oil and everything. So I laid out on the cushion and he started to work on me. It felt so good, and at first it was an innocent good but then it... changed. It was like every good sensation I felt in my back, or my arms, or my legs traveled straight to my coochie. Soon, I was dripping wet and hornier than I had ever been in my life. And before I could even think about what I was doing, I was reaching in Ben's jogging pants trying to grab his dong!"

"So, what happened? Did you two... have sex?"

"Thankfully he's a lot stronger than I am because if he hadn't been, I'd probably be in prison for rape. He held me off long enough to collect his things and leave. I went into my room and masturbated to the memory of his firm hands all over my body.

"I keep calling him but he doesn't answer anymore. I still want him so bad. Even talking about it is making me wet! You see now? I'm screwed up! I need help! Please help me, daddy!" I shouted at him.

Daddy continued writing his notes while nodding his head. It was like he was doing mathematical computations or something. When he finished he looked up, pleased like a student who had just finished a test.

"Ok. You're right. Your behavior is a problem to say the least. But, fortunately, I have a solution." Daddy stated confidently.

"Really? What is it?"

"Well, it's not something you can simply write a prescription for. And it does require work, but I have the perfect treatment plan for you. I think you would be more comfortable if my colleague, Dr. Beauregard handled your regimine."

I furrowed my brow. "Doctor Bo-what? No. Why can't you do it?"

"Doctor Mia was trained by me and is every bit as good. And given the nature of the program... trust me, you wouldn't want your father handling this," Daddy chuckled.

"But you've handled everything else. Night terrors, depression, deaths in the family, my first period, my first breakup... everything!" I began to yell again. I wasn't going to let him hand me off to some other person that easily.

"Sweetheart. You don't understand. This treatment is very rigorous and very intrusive. It involves giving control of your sexuality completely over to someone else. I don't think you want me to be that person."

"But I do want you to be that person. I mean... I don't want to give myself over to some complete stranger. That would be more intrusive than giving it to someone I trust and love. And you've been my therapist for years. Wouldn't it be better if you did it since you know me so well, even as my therapist? You could just treat me like any other patient as always, right?" I pleaded my case in hope.

Daddy thought for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Ok, Aaliyah. I'll do it. Just understand that for the next couple of weeks... or maybe even months, I'm not your dad, and you're not my daughter. You are a patient."

"Thank you, dadd- Dr. Carter. And I understand fully. Now, how does the treatment go?"

"Well, usually this is done with married couples to combat infidelity, but it's starting to be explored for singles who are looking to get control of their sexual urges. Because of it's intimate nature, the treatment must be done carefully, lest the patient becomes... dependent on her doctor."

Daddy never kept anything from me. But there seemed to be hidden meaning behind the word 'dependent'. I dismissed it, eager to embark on my journey. "I understand. Let's get started."

"Ok. So, like a marriage, this treatment begins with a vow to relinquishing control of one's body to the counselor. The idea is; given that you cannot control your own libido, you'll have to place authority over your body in the hands of another. And like marriage, it creates a bond that isn't easily broken, which is why we... why the doctor and patient must be cautious not to cross certain boundaries."

Certain boundaries? Is he saying he might fuck me? I pondered as I sifted through the carefully worded warning. I wouldn't have put it past myself to try and fuck my dad - hell, I had practically tried to rape my brother - But he would never cross that line. It was a bet I was willing to make.

"Ok. I get it. It's serious stuff. We'll be careful and we'll be fine. Now, what's this vow?"

My dad did a quick search on his phone before handing it over and then told me to repeat the lines and fill in the blanks.

"I, Aaliyah Sierra Carter..."

I scoffed, "wow. So serious. First, middle and last." Daddy was not smiling at all. He glared at me as if he was burying a body and I was joking about calling the cops. I straightened right up.

"I, Aaliyah Sierra Carter," I said soberly, looking daddy in the eye as I spoke every line.

"Relinquish control of myself to you, Reginald Marcus Carter," to you, daddy

"I am yours," Shit, this is intimate.

"My body belongs to you," damn, am I getting wet?

"My breasts belong to you," my nipples tingled and hardened at my breathy recital.

"My ass is yours," I panted as my body began to tingle all over. Something was happening.

"My pussy is yours," I declared as it began to soak my panties.

"I pledge my obedience to you alone.

"I pledge my complete loyalty to only you.

"I will not lie to you. I will submit to you.

"You are my master, my commander, my owner."

Trying not to let on how horny I was, I waited for daddy to speak. He peered into my lust-glazed eyes, probably assessing the effect of my declaration of submission. He had to know what he was doing. It was probably meant to turn a woman on by design and that was the reason he was so hesitant. I waited patiently for the verdict.

"Again," he said sternly.

I dutifully repeated my vow, then again and again. By the time I finished I was so horny all I could do was clinch my knees together and blankly nod to what daddy was saying about the rest of the treatment. All I could think about was the fact that I just promised my pussy to my daddy and how incredibly hot it was making me.

Daddy finished up with an admonition not to have sex. "You are not allowed, under any circumstances, to have any sex of any kind. Do I make myself clear?" The stern tone of voice prompted me to agree.

"Yes, sir. No sex."

"Ok, good. Now, before I let you go, I'm gonna need you to give me your panties. They'll serve as a token of trust, like a signature on a contract or the exchange of rings at a wedding."

I'm not sure why, but I didn't hesitate to start unbuttoning my pants so I could give daddy my sodden undies. I stood, slipped my shoes off, slid my tight, black jeans down off my fleshy, chocolate legs, dropped my blue nylon thong to the floor and handed them over. I was so embarrassed that my panties had a big dark spot at the gusset, right where I dripped sex for the past half hour.

Daddy walked over to his big desk and deposited my unmentionables in a drawer while I put my clothes back on.

"And remember, no sex. If you start having trouble, call me," daddy reminded me with a smile again before I walked out the door and back to my car. I was to come back every Wednesday for follow ups.

Other than promissing my ass to my dad and peeling my wet panties off to give them to him, the rest of my day was pretty normal. I ate, watched tv, talked on the phone and went to the movies with Jess. The next few days were also pretty uneventful other than the fact I kept replaying my vow in my head, which effectively turned up my naturally strong sex drive. But, trying to be a good girl, I resolved to keep my legs shut like daddy commanded.

By Friday night my mind started to change, though. The horniness never wore off but the will to fight it did, and I began to think how silly the whole thing was. More than an hour of "therapy" only resulted in a simple instructuon not to have sex. I felt like I had been cheated and that made me feel angry and rebellious.

This "treatment plan" will never work, I thought. And to prove it, I would simply do what I wasn't supposed to do and have sex. At least I could avoid doing it with someone inappropriate like Francis or Benjamin. I decided to text Felix, my ex. He wasn't the ideal choice but at least fucking him wouldn't result in broken friendships or severed family ties.

Come over. Now, was all I needed to send and he understood perfectly well.

He replied be there shortly, not one minute later.

It had been about a week since I'd seen him last and four days since I had an orgasm, the latter being the more pressing issue. Butterflies danced lightly in my belly in anticipation of a well deserved release. Four days without an orgasm and a week without sex - I deserve to be rewarded for this. Daddy will understand. I ruminated, and rationalized my guilt away until Felix knocked on the door to the apartment me and Jess shared.

I answered in just a white fitted t-shirt and green cheeky briefs. He stood in the doorway looking as good as ever. With his butter toffee skin tone, and his short, curly black hair and gotee neatly trimmed. His 6 foot, 200 pound frame just a little more chiseled than I had remembered (maybe it was just me).

After looking me up and down with excitement in his eyes, Felix stepped inside, closed the door behind him and wrapped his strong arms around me. He picked me up by my ass as I wrapped my legs around him and he walked me back into the side of the living room couch. He sat me on the arm of the sofa and sucked firmly on my neck and lightly on my earlobe as I inhaled him.

He smelled really good, but not good like a boy. It was the same scent I smelled when I first suspected he was cheating on me. It made me a bit jealous to know I was getting her sloppy seconds. However, my horniness easily overshadowed the envy.

"I see you and Monica are still hanging out," I teased as I pushed him away playfully. I laid back on the couch, looking up at him from between my spread legs which were draped over the arm of the couch.

"Her name's Mona," Felix chuckled dismissively as he moved in to try to lay between my legs. I stopped him with my toes to his lips, which he promptly began to kiss and suck. Damn he knew how to use that tongue.

"Right, Mona," I said her name in a mocking tone. "Did you guys fuck? Or did she just make you hot and send you back to me?"

"Dammit, Aaliyah, you're such an ass hole," he scoffed, then lifted my foot up to trail kisses down my leg from my ankle. He knew exactly what he was doing, trying to shut me up by turning me on. It was working but I held my charade.

"Well, you left me for her, I just wanna know how it's going. Did she leave her husband yet?" I continued to tease, causing him to increase his intensity. I don't know if it was out of anger or horniness but either way it worked for me. I loved being handled and he knew just how to do it.

"Shut the fuck up, Aaliyah," he demanded. I obeyed.

He pulled me upward by my legs aggressively so that my lower back was now on the arm of the couch and began kissing my inner thighs one at a time. He pulled the skin of my tender thighs in his mouth, sure he would leave purple spots. I moaned unable to conceal my excitement any more.

I'm sure he could see a wet spot spreading between my legs because he reached down and placed his thumb right on it, circling my oozing slit for a second before pushing the cotton of my panties just barely inside.

"Unguh," I shuddered. But trying not to give in so easily, and wanting to solicit more force out of him, I pushed his hand away and pulled my tight stretchy shirt down from the middle to cover my panties. He looked at me and I giggled innocently.

"Still a fucking cocktease I see," Felix sighed before putting his hands underneath my shirt at the sides, caressing the soft skin there up to the side of my full breasts. I scooted back away from him, playing a little hard-to-get and giggled as I toyed with him.

Thankfully he was no quitter. He took off his fitted t-shirt showing off his toned upper body, covered in tattoos. Damn, it was getting harder to deny him with every move he made. He could see the glimmer of desire in my eyes and smiled before pouring himself over the edge of the sofa, placing his head right between my closed legs where my hands covered my pussy.

He forced my legs apart with minimal effort like I was a doll. "Move your fucking hands," he growled.

"Uh uh!" I shook my head in feigned protest. Felix then began kissing my hands, slobbering over them like his last meal. It tickled me to a giggle. He then grabbed both my hands and peeled them away from my crotch slowly but with ease. I held my legs open as he plunged his face into my panty covered sex.

He led with his nose, deeply inhaling my feminine scent before licking from the bottom of the wet spot up to my clit. I shivered and gasped as he ate me through the thin cotton. In that moment I gave in to him, suddenly craving to feel his hands all over me.