Cuck Therapy Pt. 05

"Thank you for coming in to see me," Brunder said.

We were seated in the waterfront office she kept in a small building at Lake Epsilon. It was on a hill overlooking a wide swath of the beach on which a few dozen people were sunbathing or throwing footballs or frisbees. To the left of her big bay window could be seen the restaurant patio, and, to the right, the big outdoor dance floor and sitting area of the main pub. It was a beautiful, commanding view.

We'd met Brunder only briefly back in the city since our invite - she'd asked us to her office for a brief session and then a blood test administered in a little nurse's office further down the hallway from her office at Kerr Brunder and Associates. Since the pandemic, she explained, they were very weary of contagion at the highly sociable lake property.

It had been a three-hour drive inland, the last of it down backroads and finally up an easily-missed lane, past a gate sentried with a security camera and speaker where we were greeted by name by a disembodied but friendly female voice and let through, and finally into a parking lot, which was full of dozens of cars and SUVs. The had ranged greatly in expensiveness, a varied demographic mixing conspicuous consumption and brute necessity - Hondas, Porsches, Fords, Teslas, Toyotas and Jaguars. At the parking lot, our bags were packed into a little trailer and we were delivered in a four-seater golf cart, through the beautiful grounds, to which the photos had barely done justice, past strolling people who waved and shouted greetings, to Brunder's office.

"This has all been a bit rushed, and I wanted to give you two a bit more of a heads up on what to expect while you are here," she continued.

At our last meeting, I had expressed some trepidation. There was little to no information about Lake Epsilon on the internet. No adverts, no reviews. Brunder had explained that, being essentially a clinic of sorts, it was essential that the privacy of Kerr Brunder's clients and patients be protected. And of course, there was the NDA which each and every visitor signed.

"As you know, the purpose of Lake Epsilon is as a retreat for our patients, and so there is a need for a great deal of discretion not just on the part of the mental health professionals, but on the part of everyone here. You are familiar with our description of Lake Epsilon as 'your safe place' - well, that's exactly what it is for everyone here. It is a place for people to feel free from the judgments, real or perceived, of the outside world, and a place to take advantage of the opportunities that that affords. They, and you, are encouraged to engage whatever behaviors they want to that align with their course of therapy, but from which they feel prohibited in the outside world. Obviously, we report any illegal behavior, but there are some things that are legal here that would not be in most other places."

"Such as?" I asked.

"Well, for example, you may see people engaging in exhibitionistic behavior that could get them into legal trouble in most places, but which here is fine because they have the explicit consent of everyone on this property to do so."

"You mean, like, fooling around in public?" Lisa asked.

"Don't expect to see a wild, bacchanalian orgy out there," Brunder replied. "But I wouldn't be surprised if you occasionally come across people being sexually intimate in a setting which ordinarily would be considered public and therefor either taboo or illegal."

"Wow. Like... where?" she asked.

Brunder shrugged.

"Everyone here has enough sense of social decorum to not expose themselves in a restaurant or somewhere that others might find off-putting. Exhibitionism means letting people observe them if they want to, but they don't want to make other people feel uncomfortable. You won't be likely confronted by anything like that until you stray from the center of our little village or the main part of the beach, or unless it's very late at night."

"Wow, okay. Thanks for the heads up," Lisa said.

Brunder nodded.

"And of course, it is important that you play your part in making this everyone's safe place, so we are absolutely intolerant of any shaming here. I know I needn't worry with you two, you are both compassionate people, but I make it a rule to make that clear to everyone here. No shaming, no judgments."

"Of course," Lisa said earnestly. "We wouldn't kink-shame."

"I don't like the term 'kink.' I know you mean well, Lisa, but to call something a kink is to mark is as abnormal. What people call kinks, I consider a component of their legitimate sexual orientation."

"Oh, that totally makes sense," Lisa agreed. "But, so... I mean this is kind of new - I don't know if I'd know how to behave if..."

Brunder nodded her understanding.

"If you come across people being sexually intimate? Behave however you want within the boundaries that are made clear by the other parties. You can pay no attention, or go somewhere else. On the other hand, exhibitionists often welcome voyeurs, of course, so unless you get a signal that it is unwelcomed, you can go ahead and watch if you want. You may even be invited to participate."

"Hold on..." I said.

Brunder held a hand up.

"This isn't some kind of swinger's resort, John, don't worry. I only want you to be prepared for things that might happen so that you are not shocked or offended in the moment, and end up getting upset, and upsetting others."

"Listen, Dr. Brunder, I hope you don't expect...." I trailed off.

Brunder waited a moment.

"John, these are my expectations of you and Lisa. You have been given shifts to work during the day at your respective workplaces, we expect you to honor your commitment there. You are expected to treat everyone with respect, and in no way shame or judge others for engaging in behavior that does not impinge on the rights of others. There is no expectation of either of you to accept any such sexual propositions, or to engage in any exhibitionism or voyeurism. Though, you are free to, of course. But your main obligation is to focus on your course of therapy."

She leaned forward.

"John, I do encourage you to take this as an opportunity to work on your anxiety. And we can talk about ways to do that."

"What anxiety?" I asked.

"You don't feel any anxiety right now, John? Am I wrong in sensing it? Just now, when I only mentioned the possibility that someone might proposition your wife, John, you seemed to become very anxious."

"Well, yeah, of course - I think it's natural to... I mean, obviously...."

"And earlier we talked about the anxiety that you suffer about your wife's behavior when she is not around. And about your anxiety that men might be flirting with her."

"Well, I mean, given her history...."

"John. Listen to me. Men are going to flirt with your wife. Men are going to hit on her. I don't mean here, or not just here, John, I mean everywhere that there are heterosexual men. It's not her fault, and it's not yours. It's a fact of life. Lisa is very attractive and men are going to make sexual overtures to her. We can't change that. We shouldn't want to, in fact. What we can change is how you deal with that reality."

I sighed.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked with trepidation.

"Well, let's look at the root cause of your anxiety. The idea of men flirting with, or hitting on Lisa is one of the biggest triggers for you, possibly because you are associating that behavior with an event that caused you to feel, among other things, a certain degree of trauma. Does that make sense? Would you agree?"

I nodded.

"Okay. So we need to separate the trigger from the trauma. I think it would be useful for you accumulate experiences where those triggers are not followed by the trauma. It's essentially desensitization therapy, which is often used to treat phobias. People who suffer a fear of heights, for example, are encouraged to put themselves in positions that would trigger that fear, so that they can recondition themselves and see the fear as irrational, and unnecessary."

"What are you getting at? Exactly what kind of experiences do you want me to... accumulate?"

"Well, let's focus on the triggers we can most easily identify. We've discussed in previous sessions the anxiety you feel when she is at work, or at social events when you are not present. Correct?"

"Well, I think that's justified, given..."

"John. You need to stop projecting your anxiety onto Lisa. This is exactly what we are working on. If you are going to hold on to things that have happened in the past to justify your current anxieties and to cast blame on Lisa, we are not going to be able to move forward and to heal and to develop. You need to trust her. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Now, in fact, I think your interjection confirms that this is the trigger we need to focus on. Now, you and Lisa will be able to spend most of your time together, here, but as I mentioned, there is an expectation that each of you employ yourselves usefully for a few hours a day in the service of the development and operation of Lake Epsilon. John, we are building new residences and you can assist in a basic capacity in their construction. For Lisa, we have a number of little shops were she can be of service. I know, Lisa, your accounting experience would be valuable, but you probably want a break from your occupation and it would be more rewarding to serve in a more social capacity, so perhaps you would enjoy a more front-line position working with some of the ladies who work in the storefronts selling jewelry or crafts?"

"That sounds wonderful," Lisa replied.

Brunder nodded.

"Obviously, this contribution of your labors helps subsidize our operations so that those who are unable to contribute in a more directly financial capacity are still able to take advantage of Lake Epsilon as a part of their therapy. But this arrangement is also useful in that we are able to maintain, in a small way, the dynamic of your regular lives. For a part of each day, you two will be separate from each other, just as you are at home. And this provides us an opportunity to work on your anxieties, John, rather than neglect their cause. Lisa will be meeting a lot of people while she talks with customers and you are at work. Inevitably, she will be meeting a lot of men."

Brunder paused to allow that to sink in.

"As always, I stress the need for honesty and transparency between you both. Lisa, I want you to be open with John about any encounters where men have been flirtatious with you, or in which you find yourself sexually attracted to them. Understood?"

Lisa nodded.

"And people are very friendly here. There are some wonderful spots for you and your coworkers to go for lunch or for drinks after work where you will meet lots of new people. And if you are invited to go for lunch, or for drinks, with someone new, and if you are inclined to accept, then I think you should accept."

There was silence for a moment. I swallowed.

"Someone new?" I asked.

Brunder looked at me.

"Yes," she said simply.

"You don't mean... "

Brunder waited.

"I mean someone new, John. She shouldn't be inhibited from engaging in social behaviors because of your anxiety. If she wants to have lunch with someone new, and that person happens to be a man, then why shouldn't she?"

"Because that's what's called a fucking date, that's why," I said, trying to control myself.

"So, she should be prohibited from engaging in social behavior because of a word that has been assigned to it?"

"Jesus Christ. We are married. Married women don't date other men."

"They certainly do, John."

I placed my hands on the armrests of my chair to prevent them trembling.

"John, if Lisa goes for lunch with a man, or for drinks, that does not on its own constitute a violation of your marriage vows. It is not a betrayal. At home, it may set people talking, because of all sorts of social norms which serve no one and which only reinforce unhealthy forms of repression, not to mention norms of patriarchal ownership and control of women. But this is, again, 'your safe place,' and an opportunity to confront your anxiety in order to overcome it."

"I'm suffering from anxiety because I don't want a bunch of men trying to fuck my wife?"

"Again, John, there's no way to avoid men trying to fuck your wife. What this accomplishes is that you will see that social interaction between your wife and sexually interested men does not have to lead to the trauma that you fear. It will help reinforce to you that Lisa can be trusted, and that your anxiety is not justified or needed. A lot women, even married women, have male friends."

I was unable to speak as images of Lisa laughing and drinking with strange men flooded my mind.

"Let's take it a step at a time," Brunder suggested. "For now, let's commit to full transparency and honesty between you two, and if something comes up that especially triggers your anxiety, John, please do come and see me. Both of you together if possible. But if it's an emergency, John, and if Lisa consents, you can come to me alone if Lisa can't make it. Is that okay, Lisa?"

Lisa nodded.

"Of course."

"Okay. John?"

I nodded.

"What about the videos?" I asked, refering to the sex tapes Lisa's former lover had made of them together, and of which Brunder now had copies.

Brunder nodded.

"Yes, I've reviewed them, John. It's my assessment that we need to advance further in our therapy before you view them. My concern is that they will prompt feelings of resentment and jealousy that could set us back considerably. It's one thing to be told about what your partner does or has done with another man - it's a different thing to actually see and hear her do it."

"They're that bad?" I asked.

"No, they're not 'bad,' whatever is meant by that. They're very erotic. The issue isn't the videos, John. The issue is that you are just not ready yet."

"When will I be ready?" I asked.

"I can't make predictions about that, John. It depends on how quickly you respond to therapy. You have a lot of anxiety and jealousy that we are still trying to find ways of reducing. The more dedicated you are to healing, and to your therapy, the sooner you will find yourself in a position where you will have sufficient tools to cope with viewing those videos. Okay?"

I nodded.

____________

The next stop after Brunder's office was the house in which we were staying. Our luggage had already been delivered. Our housemates were a young attractive couple. The man, Jeff, was in his mid-thirties with long dark hair and a hipsterish beard. The woman, Karlee, was of medium height, long auburn hair, very attractive, sensual face, and a killer body - lean but shapely, with full breasts. She wore a loose dress that flattered her figure and was easy to move in. She liked to move. She was a dancer. That's how they met. She had been dancing at some kind of cabaret or burlesque place where he was playing piano.

They were easy to get along with and we became friends almost immediately. We went out to eat at a little restaurant on the one street and then when dancing on an outdoor floor lit by cafe lights and patio lanterns. The ladies danced. Jeff and I chatted at a little table beside the floor, watching. Karlee really could move her body. She was a very sexual dancer. Soon they had attracted the attention of a couple of men, and Karlee let one dance close against her back, his hands on her hips. One of her hands went up behind her head and she put it on the back of his neck as she moved her hips rhythmically against his. I looked at Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He was rapt in the sight, his face inscrutable. Lisa was dancing facing the other man. He put his hands on his hips and she put her arms to either side of his neck. The danced close, his hands moving down her hips, onto the top of her ass.

I got up and went to her.

"Lisa," I said. She didn't hear me. The guy eyeballed me but kept dancing, his hands on her ass.

"Lisa," I shouted over the music. She tore her eyes of the man and looked at me.

"What's up?" she shouted.

"I'm tired - I wanna go."

Lisa looked disappointed.

"Can I catch up with you later? I'm having fun."

I stared at her.

Finally she nodded and disengaged from the guy, waving goodbye to him. She turned and waved goodbye to Karlee. Karlee ran to her and grabbed her arm, trying to drag her back onto the floor. Lisa resisted, laughing, and shouted that she had to go.

Karlee came to the table with us, trying to convince us to stay, but I had to get out of there. Once Karlee accepted that we wouldn't be persuaded, she whispered something to Jeff. He sighed.

"Karlee," he said quietly, "not... tonight."

"Well, can I..." she started. She whispered the rest to him and then they looked at each other a moment.

"Please," Karlee pleaded.

Jeff relented and Karlee gave him a big hug and a kiss.

"I'm gonna stay a bit, guys," she told us. "I'll catch up with you soon. If I don't see you tonight, we'll go for coffee in the morning, K, Lisa?"

______________

Jeff, Lisa and I walked home in the starlit dark along a grassy path.

"Karlee's a fiend for dancing - it's hard to get her off the dance floor," he explained.

Once at home, we three sat chatting for a long time over some beverages. Jeff explained that they'd been married for about six years. Trouble had started almost immediately - he was vague about what sort, and they tried a number of marriage counselors before finally discovering Brunder through a friend of Karlee's, a fellow dancer, a few years ago.

"You guys seem really happy now," Lisa said.

"We are," Jeff nodded. "It's not always easy, but we've found ways of making it work. She's worth it. She's... out of my league, so I'd... you know, I'd do anything to keep her."

"That's so sweet," Lisa cooed happily.

We chatted about a lot of things. Music mostly, Jeff being an encyclopedia on the subject. He had a big electronic piano in the living room that he'd brought to Lake Epsilon to keep up with his practicing, and he played a few things for us expertly.

Almost two hours later, Karlee poured in through the door, drunk. She saw us and shuffled in to give Lisa a big hug.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm so rude. I can't stop dancing when I stop. Fuck, I'm so thirsty."

She bounced into the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a little island. She got a beer from the fridge and started downing it. Jeff joined her, leaning against the counter.

"Have a nice night?" he asked.

Karlee held up a finger while she finished the beer, and then put it on the counter. She went to him, straddling him against the counter with her back to us.

"Have a nice night?" she mimicked his voice, an octave or so lower than her usual voice.

She grabbed his right hand and put it up the front of her skirt, between her legs. Her skirt hiked up, just barely concealing her ass and his hand from our view.

"You tell me, sweetie," she said into his ear, quietly, but loud enough that we could hear. "Did I have a nice night?"

Jeff closed his eyes and swallowed. After a moment, he removed his hand and put it in his pocket. Karlee smoothed down her skirt and turned to us.

"I'm beat, guys - see you in the morning?"

She trotted off to bed.

"Night guys," Jeff said to us, and then followed her.

Lisa turned her face to me, astonished.

"Holy fuck," she said quietly.

She stared at me a moment.

"You wanna take me to bed and fuck me, baby?"

______________________

"I think he likes it, too," Lisa moaned.

I was buried between her legs, eating her pussy. Sounds of sex had just started in the other room.

I didn't say anything. She was very vocal as I got her off, unconcerned about being heard. The beverages seemed to have uninhibited her.