9:00 Appointment: The Doppelganger

Dr. Deengdohn Ramalama ate a satisfying breakfast consisting of a horny goat weed omelet festooned with magic mushrooms and yohimbe bark and washed down with ginseng tea. He followed that up with handful of Viagra, Levitra, Cialis and Extenze pills. Soon he would be sporting the highly-vaunted five-hour erection, and a good-sized one at that. Then he sat down naked in the big easy chair in the consulting parlor, awaiting his first patient of the day.

He was not worried about any ethics code violations for treating patients in the buff or, for that matter, fucking what precious little remained of their brains right out of their skulls here on the good old consulting couch itself. This was because Ram himself was the creator and sole practitioner of Neuro-Karma Therapy. As the sole practitioner, the onus of serving as the entire Ethics Review Panel fell squarely on Ram's capable shoulders. What's more, he was fully accredited by the American Society for Neuro-Karmic Practice, of which he was both President and the sole member (and he would likely promote himself to full status as a Fellow within the next two years, if he achieved all of the goals he had set for himself). He was also the proud holder of a Ph.D. in neuro-karmic science from the University of Southwest California, yet another organization of which he was President (and also the sole faculty member).

Thus, it was without trepidation of moral reprisal that he answered the triple rap on the heavy oak door that was the portal to his consulting parlor naked as a jaybird and with his schlong already at half-salute. He opened the door, and there stood his first patient of the day, the delightfully unclad Emily Poe. Standing right next to Emily was her faithful and almost identical astral companion, Jane Holloway. The latter was also most enticingly in the buff, with her perky tits pointed right at him just like six shooters held in the capable hands of Calamity Jane, a nickname he had in fact given her back when she was still a paying (and eagerly receiving) patient.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he told Emily, studiously avoiding looking at her companion, who was supposed to be invisible, but most delightfully was not. "Can I get you anything," he asked. "Perhaps some ginseng tea?"

"Danke. No thank you, Herr Doktor," she replied. She was an avid fan of old vampire and werewolf movies and often imagined her self as the Teri Garr character in Young Frankenstein. In fact, she looked a little like Teri Garr (and yes her knockers were indeed wunderbar). But she was not German. She was in fact born and raised in Santa Cruz. Perhaps she was a Nazi sympathizer, Ram thought. But would be too early to explore that avenue in this session, although the scenarios might be delightful indeed.

He gestured toward the consulting couch. Emily climbed aboard and assumed the position, lying supine with her firm breasts and soon-to-be-carefully-explored crack wonderfully exposed. Ram's cock was by now pointing at the ceiling as he perched in the analyst's chair behind her (after all, it had been a full sixteen hours since his last violent orgasm).

Jane scurried silently over to the chair, knelt at Rams's feet and wrapped her arms around his leg as he began the session. "So Ms. Poe, have you continued to see the doppelganger?" he asked.

"Ja," Emily said. "Every day. Sometimes tvice in one day. She even follows me. In fact, she followed me here today."

Jane licked her way up Ram's naked leg and thigh and quickly pounced on Ram's johnson with her exquisitely talented mouth.

"Extraordinary," Ram said. "And is she here with us right now?"

Emily craned her neck around to gain a glimpse of the consulting chair. "Yes, in fact she is giving you a blow job at zis very moment."

"I see. And what am I doing?"

"You've got one leg dangled over ze armrest, und you are ztroking her hair."

"Most extraordinary. As I explained in our last session, Emily, what you are seeing is not real. This girl that you keep seeing is a merely a doppleganger, an apparition. People have been reporting such entities for centuries.

"Oooh," he added, as Jane took his right ball in her mouth.

"This so-called doppleganger is really just an apparition of a split-off portion of yourself," Ram continued in a more tremulous voice. "That is why it looks exactly like you. It is your forgotten twin, your suppressed emotions and desires."

"Vell, she doesn't look exactly like me. For von zing, she has a mole on her right breast here," Emily said, pointing to a spot over her own delightfully red areola.

Ram didn't blame Jane for that minor discrepancy. When Jane's insurance money had run out, they had set up the doppelganger scam as the best way to continue Jane's "treatment" and still keeping Ram's pockets filled with the green stuff. He had told Jane to find a woman that looked like her as much as possible and shadow her, popping up into her view two or three times a day. That and Ram's carefully placed late night ad on the History Channel offering his doppleganger-busting services had been enough to lure Emily here, quite literally into his parlor. The birthmark error was minor and unavoidable. Jane had in fact offered to capitalize on Emily's lesbian longings to avoid just such an error, but Ram had thought that would be showing their hand a bit too soon (plus he wanted to be in on Emily's initiation into Sapphism). At any rate, they were soon going to put those lesbian longings to good use.

"As I explained in our last session," Ram continued, "the doppelganger represents all the desires that you have repressed, that are bottled up inside you. It is what we neuro-karmic practitioners call your karmic debt. It represents your kundalini energy that is now trapped below your heart chakra and demands release, if you are ever to be a whole person again.

"Do you wish to give me a blowjob yourself, Emily?"

"Oh ja, ever zo much," said Emily in her best Shirley Temple voice.

"You are free to do that, if you wish, Emily. As you know, neuro-karmic therapy is not limited by the artificial dicta of the mainstream therapeutic traditions. In here, one may express oneself freely, with no fear of reprisal. Would you like to do that now, Emily?"

"Ja vohl, mein doktor. But you are in ze middle of screwing zat one," Emily said, pointing to Jane, who was in fact at that moment lying underneath Ram and in the process of getting her lights screwed out.

"I told you, she's not real. I'm still sitting in the analyst's chair."

"But I've caught you red-handed. You're both butt-naked, banging on the parlor floor."

"It wasn't me," Ram replied, "it was just your imagination running away with you. Why don't you come join us? You'll see."

Not sure whether to climb on the armchair or down to the floor, Emily decided on the latter. That seemed to be where the action was.

She covered Ram's furiously humping body with her own naked flesh, running her hands through her master's hair.

"Herr Doktor, are you sure zat you are ztill in the chair."

"Ov course, meine liebchen, I mean Emily. We two are just tulpas, thought-forms projected into actual physical existence, just like those produced by Tibetan shamans as described in Alexandra David-Neel's Magic and Mystery in Tibet. Did you not do the reading assignment this week?"

"I am zorry, mein fuhrer, I'm zorry, I mean Docktor," Emily said, clicking her naked heels together, which sent a shiver up and down Ram's body. "Zen vy is zere nobody in ze chair?"

"That's just a simple negative autohypnotic hallucination. Your subconscious mind wishes that you are down on the floor with me and your split-off double, and you see what you want to see, feel what you want to feel. It is all an illusion, none of this is real, you are still lying chastely on the couch, your hands folded on your tummy, and I am still in the chair.

"But never mind all that, it is time to proceed with your therapy. Your concerns are just a form of resistance. Let's get it on, I mean get on with it."

"I'm zorry, mein doktor. Let's go indeed," Emily said, and began licking Ram's ear, as he resumed his thrusting into the very patient body of Jane Holloway.

Jane's arms came up to wrap both Ram and Emily's bodies. Her pussy was on fire as Ram's talented and well-practiced cock began to slide in and out of her more vigorously.

Even as she licked his ear, Emily's hands ran down the sides of Ram's torso and found his buttocks, which she began to knead in rhythm with his trusts into Jane. She climbed down Ram's body, tracing the length of his spine with her flickering tongue. With both her hands on his buttocks, her tongue began to explore his crack, licking it up and down and deeper and deeper, as Ram continued to pork her alter ego. Her tongue found his asshole and rimmed it as she continued to knead his buttocks in time with his violent thrusts into Jane. She began to flick her tongue in and out of Ram's hole as he continued his driving motion.

Then she went lower, finding Ram's balls, which she sucked and licked, while her fingers continued to work Ram's ass. She squeezed his balls with her lips while she ran her tongue over them, causing Ram to lose his tantric control over his orgasm. He cried out, shooting his wad deeply into Jane's hot and willing cunt.

Then he regained control, reversed his peristalsis and pulled his hot cum right back into his balls, reloading them for the next therapeutic maneuver. He sighed in relief. He had almost lost his tantric mastery over his body. He would need to practice more vigorously this week, or he would become therapeutically impotent right when his patients needed him the most.

He staggered over to the couch and pressed the topmost button. The hydraulic device powered on and the couch widened so that it could house three people comfortably, no matter how big their gargantuan American asses were (not a problem in the present circumstances of course).

He gestured for his patient and her lovely hallucination to lie down and start without him.

"Now, Emily, I want you to drink your double in. Take all those pent up feelings and desires inside you. Make yourself whole again."

Obediently, Emily began kissing Jane on the lips passionately, teasing her mouth open, flicking her tongue in and out, and tracing the arc of her pearly white teeth. Their hands began to explore each other's bodies. Emily rubbed her fingertips over Jane's rosy nipples and kneaded her breasts. Their hands traced their way down each other's taut and pulsating abdomens until they found each other's pussies.

Emily took Jane's triangle in her hand, worked her fingers into the groove of her gash and began clenching and unclenching her hand as she continued to French her ghostly double's mouth. She climbed on top of Jane's lovely body, and kissed her way down the doppelganger's swan-like neck. She took each of her nipples in her mouth in turn, lapping them with the tip of her tongue, circling them, then engulfing most of Jane's right breast in her mouth and shaking it like Quint in the jaws of the great white shark. She then licked her way down to Jane's soaking wet mound, kneeling over Jane so as to present her own cunt for herr doktor's attention.

Ram wasted no time in ramming his tantrically-trained and pharmaceutically-encouraged steel-hard shaft all the way into Emily's sweet deluded cooz. Ram began to move in and out of Emily's hotly pulsating hole as he reached around her to stimulate her clit, as Emily began to eat Jane in earnest, lapping her clit while her right hand squeezed Jane's breast and her left plunged in and out of Jane's hot wet cunt.

Ram could feel the walls of Emily's cunt milking him as he fought to regain tantric control over his own overstimulated organ. He continued to pound his way in and out of her, while his fingers teased her clit and his tongue licked the nape of her neck and ears.

He could see that Jane was getting close, breathing harder and harder as Emily lapped her cunt and clit as though there were no tomorrow. Suddenly, Jane arched her back and cried out as she came in torrent of juices that soaked Emily's mouth and chin.

At that moment Ram drove his cock into Emily's cunt as hard as he could, burying it in her up to the hilt and his balls poured their reclaimed contents into Emily's hot and willing cunt.

They lay there in silence, listening to the grandfather clock ticking away the remaining minutes of the session.

10:00 Appointment: The Slave

After a refreshing snack of yohimbe root brownies smothered in rhinoceros horn frosting , Ram opened the door to greet his second patient of the day, Sharifa Mustafa of Burbank, California. Unlike the rest of Ram's patients, Sharifa was fully clothed. More than fully in fact, as she sported the chadri, the type of burqa that covers a woman completely, from head to toe, much like a floor lamp in a summer house in February.

Ram studiously avoided touching her, as that would be inappropriate in her Muslim culture. He motioned for her to come in and lie down upon the consulting couch, and he assumed the position of therapist, sitting in the chair behind her.

"So, how have things been going this week, Mrs. Mustafa?" her asked the robed figure before him.

"I don't know, Dr. Ramalama, sometimes I still think people are staring at me. I still think it might be due to the burqa."

"Don't be silly, Mrs. Mustafa. As we went over in our last session, this is all in your mind, in the way you carry yourself. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Remember what I suggested to you in the last session?"

"Doctor, I tried it. Picturing myself as one of them. As one of those roller-skating bikini-clad whores. But it was difficult to keep it up. I don't think it was working anyway. They still seemed to notice me."

"Just because of the burqa? Don't be silly. Did they say anything to you?"

"Just on my way here, three of them yelled at me."

"And what did they say?"

"Go back to Mecca, you stone-throwing Muslim baby-murdering terrorist whore."

"How did you know they meant you?'

"I was the only one dressed like this."

"Ah, so it all comes back to the burqa again. I told you, it is all in the way you carry yourself. You are projecting your hostility toward yourself on to these people who could care less about you.

"At any rate, we should start the session. Lie back on the couch and I will put you under."

Mrs. Mustafa lay back and folded her hands over her shrouded tummy, and Ram began the hypnotic age regression procedure.

"You are falling deep asleep. The only sound that you can hear is my voice. Go back in time to see yourself being born. Go back further to a time before that, and tell me what you see."

"I am flying a plane. There is shrapnel all over the place."

"Can you tell me your name?"

"I am Manfred von Richthofen, the Red Baron, the flying ace of the German Imperial Air Force. Drat, here comes that cursed dog again."

"Mrs. Mustafa, we have been over this. This is not a past life you are reliving. It is cryptamnesia of a Peanuts cartoon you read as a child. Go back even further, to the lifetime before the war, the one we have explored in depth in our previous sessions."

"Massa, Massa, why you keep putting this Klan robe on me? Why you do me like that?" Mrs. Mustafa cried out, ripping the burqa from her body to reveal her marvelously sculpted African body in all its unclothed glory. Beulah was a stickler for the rules of neuro-karmic therapy, whereas Sharifa tirelessly fought against them.

Ram gazed down at Beulah's magnificent African-American tits and sculpted regulation-size African-American ass, no doubt capable of propelling her body a distance of 100 meters in under twelve seconds.

"I's sorry ah ran away, Massa. I's jus' gwin' fo' a lil' while. Mebbe a week. To see ma nephew Festus. Why you be sellin' him?. He dinnt do nothin'wrong. He ain't done nothin' to you. Why you be breakin' up mah fambly? We ain't been nothing but good niggers to you."

"Ah am truly sorry fo' yo' grief, Beulah," Ram said in his best Rhett Butler drawl. "It was purely a financial decision. Ah was faced with a choice of sellin' Festus or not bein' able to get mah daughtah a propah gown fo' the cotillion next month. Cotton ain't bringing it what is used to. Ah was jus' tryin' to make do. It was a no-brainer, really."

"Ah guessin' Ah know what this calls fo'," she said, her heart racing.

"Tha's raight, Beulah. Sad to say, another whuppin'"

Beulah walked over corner of the room and retrieved the switch and presented it to Ram. He nodded his head, and assumed the position on the couch. Beulah brought the switch down hard on his ass. Number one.

She bent down to squeeze Ram's balls hard and reached under him to grasp his unrepentantly stiff prick with her left hand and pumped it a couple of times to tease him and to show him who was the real master here.

She stepped back and brought the switch down hard on his buttocks. Number two. Then she backed up and brought it down hard on his balls. Number three.

Then she bent over so that her huge breasts lay on Ram's back and reached under him to squeeze his punished balls again, and pumped his throbbing cock several more times. Then she stood back and administered the last two lashes.

"Now, git down on de flo' like the dog you is," she told him. "Mamma's gonna go fo' a little ride."

Ram obediently lay down on the floor face up. He knew what was coming.

Beulah straddled him, grabbing his swollen cock tightly as she moved it against her clit and teased Ram by briefly covering it with her hot wet cunt as she lowered herself upon it, still moving it back and forth and up and down the lips of that second mouth, and then back up to her clit once more. She began breathing faster as she rubbed Ram's shaft against her clit harder and harder. Ram put his hands on those gargantuan African breasts as she rode him, kneading them in time with her movements.

Then she slid up Ram's chest and placed her wet cunt over his mouth, and pressed her clit into his nose.

"Eat mah pussy, you low-life cracker, like the dog that you is," she commanded, and Ram began obediently to lap her pussy as though his life depended on it. She squirmed as he ate her, rubbing her clit against his nose as he lapped the inner walls of her cunt. She came in a torrent of liquids that spilled over Ram's face. She then moved her cunt down, so that Ram's lips were against her clit, and then she began to buck back and forth. Ram took her bud in his mouth and licked it furiously as she rode him. She took his head in her hands and squeezed it against her, as Ram teased her clit with his teeth and tongue and then went to work more furiously, sucking it and licking it for all it was worth. She exploded again, her juices pouring over Ram's face as she pressed it against her.

"Oh, Massa," she said, just holding him against her, luxuriating in the sensation of hip lips against her cunt.

"Ah guess you know what comes next, Massa."

Ram did indeed.

"You gots to fuck Beulah doggie-style. Gimme them high yaller chilluns. Yeah, Beulah's chillun gwin to the promised land. The octoroon ball. We gonna be house niggers fo' sho.'"

Beulah climbed up upon the couch and presented her well-honed regulation African booty to Ram.

"Ram me, Doctor Ram. Give me what I needs."

Ram climbed to his feet, readjusting his aching jaw and climbed aboard her, his hands holding her hips as he drove into her, embedding his shaft in her right up to the hilt. He began to move in and out of her, holding her by her waist. He ran his hands over her the beautiful brown skin of her back, stroking it as he plunged in and out of her not inconsiderable depths.

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