Devastation Pt. 01

Part 1 - A Perfect Life No More

© 2009 by drkfetyshnyghts

Dr. Sabirah Najwa

My name is Sabirah Najwa. I'm a 49-year old clinical and behavioral psychologist resident in London, though Arabic in origin. In Arabic, Sabirah means "patient" and Najwa means "confidential talk, secret conversation."

I am a lesbian Sadist. And also a Fetishist. I must add I am neither a Sadist nor a Fetishist in the common misconceptions of those words. I will say only, at this point, that normal clichéd conventions of BDSM and Fetishism bore me. They don't interest me. They never have and never will. I choose a very different path to very different and totally devastating ends.

Forward by Dr. Sabirah Najwa

If I were to 'label' this story, or indeed any of my written works, first and foremost, it would be 'Fantasy.' Psycho-Sexual, Psycho-Fetish are also labels that could apply, since deeper feminine issues are explored. Always fiction of course, despite the level of realism applied and levels of inspiration gained from real life -- sometimes verging on the taboo. Always exploring the edges of limits. Peering over the edges into the darkness where others are afraid to venture. Some less open-minded individuals could apply the label 'Horror' to my stories; certainly 'Perverse,' since, for my 'victims,' usually there is only a one-way trip down into a vortex that is really bottomless.

Come.... be immersed in "My" world....

ONE - Petra

It's probably only once in a Sadist's lifetime that her ideal 'subject' will come along. That is, if she's lucky; once where all the boxes are ticked. Everything comes together into a perfect 'package': the age of the subject, her physical attributes, her domestic situation, her career status and circumstances, her character and personality; the strengths, the weaknesses and the traits. Every single box ticked. Everything right, so that the hairs on the back of the Sadist's neck stand upright, erect.

_________________________________

I met Petra by pure chance for the first time at a corporate fund-raising function. She was the PA of a Chief Executive of a City finance group. I was representing my own private clinic attempting to raise funds into research of the extremities of human behavior. Quite ironic, really, given how things were to develop.

Obviously certain boxes were ticked immediately. Striking, stunning looks and vital statistics I was to later find out were a height of 5'10" and curves measuring 38d-25-35. Long, thick, luscious hair a shade darker than flame-red and huge pools of hazel eyes with naturally thick, curled lashes. Her lips, full and delicately shaped and with a natural pout. Her complexion, pale, slightly freckled across her nose and under her eyes. With the addition of impossibly long legs, tapered and shaped in all the right places, Petra caught my eye immediately.

Then there was her sense of style and dress, which quite simply flattered her elegance to the extreme. Featuring designer dresses and suits that enhanced her best attributes. Indeed not a lady of the shy, retiring type. A woman who knows how good she looks, and enjoys that. One who knows her best attributes and how to subtly draw attention to them. And yet also not overtly sexual either. Better described as subtle, mature, and matching her thirty-five years to perfection. I am usually quite good at guessing ages of other women and indeed correctly guessed Petra's age as early thirties.

Petra, before even a word had been exchanged between us, had captured my attention to the fullest. There was a natural grace to her. The way she moved. The way she carried herself. I liked that. I liked that very much. More than that though, there was a confidence. A self-assurance. A self-gratification that suggested that Petra was pleased, and content with the life she had. I especially liked that.

Also, there was more than a hint of arrogance. From a distance it was difficult to finger the source of the arrogance. Just in her stance. The way she appeared to talk to others. The way she looked at others in her presence. Petra was a delight to study from a distance. Any woman capable of such overt arrogance had also to be highly intelligent. Intelligence in a woman, for me, is very desirable. An intelligent woman is a woman who would understand what she was going through. Understand and 'feel' the journey she is taken on, maximizing the effect. Maximizing her suffering.

There were more boxes to be ticked once the inevitable introduction had been made. Petra's first words to me tripped from her immaculately glossed lips effortlessly.

"Oh.... so you are the 'head doctor'? I'm SOOO pleased to meet you."

With those words came a massive, wide lipstick smile. Her accent very English. Very educated. Very sophisticated. As I've said, intelligent. Very delicious. Her chosen words, and tone quite, and purposely so, derisive, dismissive even. Falling short of 'rude' and yet barely doing so. Instead settling on patronizing and with her infectious smile and big eyes lingering, it was as though it was the effect she had intended, and desired. And an effect that she was well-practiced at. Well used to obtaining. A thrill down my own spine. Had I found my 'ideal' subject?

"Pleased to meet you too, Petra, truly."

My own accent, perfectly measured English and yet with a slightly less than thick Arabic accent. The tone, an octave lower, slightly broken, almost, but not quite, husky. My smile, very sincere. Very real and completely, expertly camouflaging my deep and meaningful thoughts about this woman. I like women content with their life. I like women who are confident, and arrogant. Confidence, Arrogance and Contentment. A delicious combination. Like that of Beauty, Intelligence and Aloofness. All of the ingredients of a perfect subject. Indeed, in the flesh and up close, Petra was a vision to behold. She certainly deserved further investigation.

I waited for the crowd to diminish, having already succeeded in securing a sizeable donation from Petra's bosses. Buying Petra a drink, suggesting we move to the quiet tables at the back of the bar, much more relaxing. Much easier to talk. All the time studying her. The way she moved. The way she carried herself. All of particular interest to me in my pursuits. Sliding into the quiet tables set out in little semicircular booths at the back of the bar. Breaking the ice, directly and with no prejudice.

"Ok Petra, I have to come clean, I am a lesbian, but I promise I am not hitting on you, ok?"

I smile wide. Even allow a little chuckle. And Petra breaks out in a quite raucous laughter that melts any new-meeting tension.

"Oh.... so, you're not hitting on me then. I'm disappointed, really I am."

She keeps a dead straight face for all of two seconds before her stunningly attractive features break into a wide, wide grin. Another display of her intelligence. And some sense of humor.

"It's ok, really, Sabirah, I have quite a few lesbians in my circle of friends. I prefer female company to male anyway. No worries. Really, I mean that."

I nod, all the time checking out this delicious woman. The purring in my throat audible only to me.

"Well maybe I should say, not hitting on you 'yet'."

Another laugh, another re-cross of the legs required by both of us. Once my initial interest is grabbed, I like to check out women in greater detail. Petra really is a stunning woman. In all respects. If a woman spends time on her appearance , it always stands up to close scrutiny. Her lips, perfect, and she ensures they are always made up thus. Careful lining. Careful color. Careful gloss. The same with the eyes. Absolute attention to the detail. The minutest of detail from brush stroke direction, to thickness of mascara applied. Looking as good as Petra did didn't happen straight out of bed. Her makeup was applied with a relaxed, yet practiced expertise and highlighted the best features of her face. Her lips and her eyes, and her delicately high cheekbones. Her nails, manicured perfectly, and matching her lips.

Her style of dress, impeccable. The fitted pants suit in the most expensive of silks just oozing a class and education of style and elegance. The jacket perfectly fitted over her flared hips and the silk top underneath, just a tease of sexiness. The pants, silk, wide. They flowed elegantly when she walked. Her high heels more or less covered by the hems of these pants and created an almost effortless 'glide' when she walked. Very tall on her own merits but it was obvious she favored the higher heels. It didn't take that much imagination to see that Petra had the longest of legs under those silky pants. Pity I couldn't see those legs on this first occasion. But I had quite enough to be getting on with. Another secret purrrr to myself.

Her hair, pulled back tight, quite severely from her face... that striking flame-red plume and secured back in a high, tight ponytail. Barely a loose, wayward hair to be seen. So neat, so perfect. She looked the consummate professional, and was. This had been a business meeting and she had been representing her company so her power-dressing was appropriate. Effective and seemingly effortless.

"So tell me a bit about yourself, Petra. Have you been with the company long? You seem to have the measure of things."

I make casual chitchat with wide sincere smiles, totally off the cuff.

"Hmmmm, well actually, yes. I moved to London about nine-years ago and got a break with the company. I've been so lucky. They were so understanding, even when my daughter came along. My daughter is 18 now but in the early years, the company provided childcare. Everything, the works. Even now I can get her looked after if I need to. I feel my life is right about now. Just about perfect. A place for everything, everything in its place."

I smile, nod as she speaks, taking it all in, watching her mouth as she talks. Such a delicious mouth. There is no greater pleasure for a woman of my 'interests' than to hear another woman speak of her happiness. How content with life she is. Just those basic things telling me already that this woman is so happy with her life. Just the reflection in her voice, so obvious that she wouldn't want to lose all that. And at the same time obvious that she would be destroyed, and devastated if she did lose, even a little of it. Thank her lucky stars even though she doesn't have anything to thank them for.

"Oh... so you have a daughter? How old is she?"

I chitchat as I sip my wine, and watch as Petra sips her own. So content with life. She has a daughter! I barely can contain the excitement in my voice, having to clear my throat before I speak.

"Yes, yes I do. Stefani is eighteen, just. She really is the most beautiful thing in my world. I couldn't ever imagine anything taking the place of the importance she holds in my life..."

Her voice drenched with love and adoration for her daughter. I liked that attachment. That pure mother love.

"Awwww that is so sweet. So cute... She must be heading for those dreaded exams, as well as all the other things teenage girls go through?"

My voice in no way patronizing - just oozing sincerity and a genuine well-practiced curiosity.

"Oh yes, tell me about it. Terrible teens. But I just love having her around. So vibrant and full of life. Everything to look forward to."

The adoration in her voice almost sickly sweet.

"Dad isn't around then, I take it?"

Petra nearly chokes mid-gulp of her chilled Chardonnay.

"Oooooh nooooooo, no dad. I have to say that Stefani was a 'mistake.' A one-night stand that shouldn't really have happened. But I wouldn't be without her now. Not for anything. But her dad has never been on the scene, ever. Doesn't even know she exists. Didn't even know I was pregnant... just the way I like it..."

For the first time, a slight hint of emotion in her voice. I just lean forward tap her lightly on her knee.

"Its quite ok sweetie, I understand completely. We all need 'something' in our lives, but a man definitely isn't one of those things..."

She regains her composure very quickly. Almost instantly, and smiles.

"I'm sorry. I get a little touchy where Stefani is concerned. A lot of people draw conclusions about me because I am a single mother. And because I had her when I was so young myself. It doesn't get to me like it used to though. So it's cool. Besides I have been so lucky. fallen on my feet, as it were. I have my own house in the country that is bought and paid for. Mostly from bonuses paid by my company. I have exclusive use of a company penthouse when in London so.... I just feel so content, so complete. I don't know... it's hard to find the right words sometimes."

Her voice trails off. Has regained some of its aloof, even arrogant self-gratified edge. All the time I am making mental notes. This woman definitely deserved more of my time. I looked at her jewelry. Mostly gold, all expensive and dripping from all the right bits of her person.

"Well.... you don't need to worry about me drawing wrong conclusions. I take people as I find them. Or how they want to be found. I don't judge and I don't draw conclusions only fact. I do know that Stefani is extremely lucky to have such an intelligent, beautiful mother as you. And that you have absolutely her own best interests at heart always. It's a joy to meet you, really it is."

Again infectious smiles exchanged between us. Her smile is glowing with self-pride as she becomes relaxed, and not so guarded in my presence.

"Anyway.... enough about me... what about you, Sabirah. What's your story?"

Petra has a way of 'flirting' that wouldn't be obvious to everyone. Just a way of using her eyes and her facial expressions. They linger longer that normal. Her eyes pierce deeper than normal. And always with a slight curl of her wide mouth into an 'almost there' smile. Petra, a woman used to playing games; getting her own way. Using her femininity, even sexuality, in subtle ways to get it.

"Hmmmm well. Not much to tell. I moved to London 20-years ago. Daddy was an oil-rich Arab. He put me through college and then set me up in my own practice when I got here. I expanded in a short space of time and now have the clinic. It's a private clinic and that, in turn, funds a lot of the research we do."

Petra listening intently always sipping on the wine. Nodding seeming deeply interested.

"Oh wow.... so what is the research all about?"

I sip casually coming to the end of my wine.

"Mainly mental health issues. Although we are running a program now studying human behaviors. But all linked to mental health. Or, to be precise, extremities of human behavior... and the darker sides to mental health. All a little deep, but very good for the profile of the clinic. I am also personally studying hypnotism, and something called auto-suggestion in association with hypnotism."

If Petra faked the interest, she did it well. Very well.

"Wow.... I'm impressed. You'll have to show me around some day. I would be very interested. Do you know, I'm due a three-month leave period which I can take any time I like. Maybe I should put that on my 'to do' list?"

Her self-invite was doing no harm whatsoever. And yet more information pouring from her. I liked Petra more and more with each passing minute.

"Oh... a three-month leave. How lucky are you? Did you plan on doing anything special? I mean, don't get me wrong, I am happy to show you around the clinic of course but I can't imagine a gorgeously hot thing like you wouldn't have immense plans?"

Petra finishes up her wine with an exaggerated smack of her lips.

"I hadn't 'planned' anything at all .I did want to go traveling and could. Organizing care for Stefani whilst I was away would be easy. Not that she needs that much looking after at sixteen. But... like I said nothing planned. It's why I have so much vacation time owed. I never actually plan to do anything so it all just mounts up."

My mind was beginning to work overtime. A plan. But certain wheels had to be put into motion. Petra, every time she opened her mouth, moved a muscle, flicked her hair, or flirted with me with those huge pool-like eyes, was becoming more and more perfect. However, it was time to bring this initial chat to a close. I had my own checks to initiate. A little more groundwork to complete.

"Well, look... why don't you book the time off work and you can come to stay with me as my guest at the clinic for a few days. Just a suggestion. You can take a good look round. Give all good reports back to the bosses as to how their money is being spent, hahahaha......but seriously, in the meantime, I have to go. I'm already late for an appointment, so captivating have you been. And I mean that, really."

Petra takes the opportunity to flirt with her eyes again. And I seemingly play back.

"Awwwwwww well... if you MUST go....but yes, that sounds like a plan. I like plans. Why don't we take each others cell phone numbers, and meet again soon and we can discuss further?"

"That sounds like a plan too, Petra, yeah! We can do a drink or something, less formal than today, maybe in a week or so?"

We agree, exchange numbers and I give Petra a hug as I leave. It doesn't escape me that she hugs me back close, pressing her substantial breasts into me and extending her deep red lips into a pout as she air-kisses each of my cheeks. Another of her flirty characteristics. I let her leave ahead of me. I want to see the pure elegance of walk as she glides out. She doesn't disappoint.

TWO - Seeds Planted

I ran a few checks on Petra. She was who she said she was. No alarm bells ringing. Impeccable credit records, served obviously by her perfect life. A lucky woman in many respects. And yet, due to her looks, her life, her luck, life was closer to dealing her a devastating hand. A cruel, cruel blow. Lucky, perfect Petra was soon to become poor, poor Petra.

I received a text message from Petra the day following that first meeting.

"Sabirah, it was so good talking to you last night. I'm looking forward to our less formal drink in a few days... Petra xxx"

I smiled as I read it. Three little kisses at the end. Almost juvenile in their inclusion in the message. Except I knew that in Petra's case, it was her little way of continuing the flirt with my lesbianism. I'm not the world's greatest 'texter.' In fact, I do it more under duress than as a normal way of life. In Petra's case though, I made an exception.

"Petra. Yes, me too. Be sure to dress to impress. I'd love to see those yummy long legs of yours... :) Sabirah xxx PS - not coming on to you of course :)"

Petra liked games, I gleamed that much from her. This was a game I liked. A game which served a higher purpose. A game which would draw her closer to me. A few days later another text.

"How does Friday evening sound? The new wine bar just off Canary Wharf 7pm? Legs and killer heels, just for you :) Petra xxx"

Just that simple text told me so much about her. "Legs and killer heels." She knew, appreciated the appeal of her legs. And of heels that accentuated them more. I liked her more and more. Poor, poor Petra!

"That sounds divine Petra. I can't wait to see you, you tease :) Sabirah xxx"

Just a play along, with her flirt. Even a little encouraging it. Teasing it. Coaxing it. It all helps the process. I could almost 'taste' Petra already. I clenched my thighs. The second meeting was set. I couldn't wait. Wheels were in motion.

_____________________________________

If the tiniest thought had crossed my mind that Petra might not 'make the effort' on our second meeting. It was quickly dispelled. Not just quickly dispelled but absolutely and without question. This was a woman who knew how to look her best in work suits. For an early evening meeting however, with a friend in a stylish city wine bar, she excelled. More than excelled. But she knew that.