Marriage Counselor

But Shattuck suddenly stood and jerked her around, grabbing her wrists and turning her so her back was against the cold metal of the car and he was facing her

"Oh no!" he said. "I know what you're doing. All those little whore tricks to make me cum? All those little clever techniques? No, doctor. That's not what I want from you! What I want is this!"

And still holding her wrists, he rammed his prick into her mouth the way he wanted—full in, mouth-raped. Her head was against the door. There was no way to retreat. His prick forced its way into her throat and she wasn't ready for it. She felt violated, used.

She didn't like this so much. She didn't like the way he took control of her and was fucking her mouth with deep, angry strokes, forcing her head to thump against the window of the car. But there was nothing she could do. Her gagging and coughing weren't faked anymore, and Shattuck fucked her with a force and insistence she'd never felt from any of her johns. It frightened her, alarmed her.

He was growing in her mouth, in her throat, getting huge, enormous. And at the point where she thought he must surely lose it and start spewing into her throat he suddenly pulled out. She coughed as his exiting cock laid strands of saliva and mucus across her chin and chest and then he pulled her to her feet and leaned her against the car.

Lacey was breathless and dazed and felt strangely empty and incomplete, as if she'd been awoken from a dream she didn't want to end.

"No," he said. "Not this way Not so easy."

He held her arm as he opened the car door and pushed her in, and Lacey was too disoriented to resist.

"You're good, Doctor, aren't you? You know all those little tricks and gimmicks. But that's not what I want. Tonight, I'm the teacher. Tonight we're going to do things my way!"

Shattuck walked around to his side, opened the door and got in. She could have run. She could have just opened her door and run out, or screamed, or made some sort of scene. There was a rape whistle in her purse, and a vial of Mace, which she'd used before when a man got over-eager. But instead she sat rigid and still, watching him expectantly. It was partly fear, no doubt about that, but not a fear of harm, not a fear that he'd hurt her. It was a fear of the unknown. There was something she wanted from him, but it frightened her too.

He gave her no time to think about it. He put the car in gear and pulled out.

"Put your seat back." he said.

Oh God! He wasn't going to fuck her in the car, was he?

"Put it back! All the way! I want you lying down.""

She did as he said, lying back in the seat till she was practically reclining next to him, vulnerable, supine, her head below the sill of the window. He took his eyes from the road long enough to glance at her, then reached down and roughly pulled her skirt up, working it up her thighs.

"Jack...!"

The skirt was snug and wouldn't clear her hips, but he looked angry enough to rip it off her if she didn't co-operate so she lifted her bottom off the seat to allow him to push the skirt as high as he wanted; above her hips, above her crotch, exposing the sheer scrap of black pantie that protected her sex.

She didn't know why she didn't stop him or refuse or at least put up some kind of fight. This was insanely lewd and obscene, lying there showing her panties and her naked thighs to him, but something deep inside her was thrilled. Something deep inside her knew this was the way she wanted to be treated.

Shattuck drove with one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road, glancing down at her frequently to admire the way the street lights swept over her partially naked body. He hadn't expected her to be so obedient and follow his orders like this, but it was like he'd caught her between two personalities and she wasn't sure who she was or how to behave. At any rate, he wasn't complaining, and he didn't intend to give her time to regain her balance.

"Put your hands above your head," he ordered." Hold onto the headrest with both hands. Now spread your legs. No, not like that. Your knees, Spread your knees!"

"Jack please..."

"Jack please what?" he mocked. "You gonna tell me you never did this for any of your dates before? You gonna tell me you never gave them a little show to get their interest and get their juices flowing? Just how long have you been playing this game, Doctor? How long you been out hooking on the side?"

She closed her eyes and turned her face from him but remained in that humiliating position of legs spread, arms up, skirt bunched around her waist. "It's none of your business, Jack. What I do with my personal life..."

"Don't give me that shit, Dr. Evans! Not while you're sitting in that office all day long telling your clients how to be rational and logical about their love-making and polite and respectful and then you go out whoring at night fucking anything that moves--"

He turned suddenly and looked down at her, a light of instant understanding in his eyes. "That's just it, isn't it? It's all about control for you! All that talk in your office about being reasonable and working things about. All this playing hooker for the johns you pick up. You're always in control, aren't you? You couldn't let go if you tried. That's what you keep coming out here for. You're looking for the one guy that'll make you lose control but you never find him. You never find him because when you do find the one guy who can do that you get scared and run away!"

"Oh please! Spare me the dime store analysis, Jack! Give me at least that much credit!"

She had a lot of nerve saying anything like that given the position she was in, but even so it made him smile. He reached down and slid his finger against her slick panties, making her jump, and then before she had time to recover he pushed the garment to the side and slid his finger partway into her.

"No!" She screamed, but her struggles were minimal and his finger felt little resistance as if slid in up to the second knuckle. Dr. Evans was wet and lubricated, and the feeble way she clamped her legs together was as more from surprise than from any sort of pain or sudden outrage.

"Keep your hands where they are, Dr. And keep your knees apart!"

Lacey whined through her teeth but found herself powerless to disobey. It was totally humiliating and degrading, but there was still much of Nikki in her, and this was just the kind of thing Nikki liked: that lustful violation and perversion. He'd been right with his easy analysis. She craved the danger, and it wasn't just the danger of sex with strangers It was the danger that one of them would see through her and break down her defenses and free this terrible sexual need she knew was buried inside.

His finger was moving inside her and Lacey tried not to move. She tried to keep her hips still and her face impassive as if he were just another john, pawing over her with his clumsy hands. But she couldn't relax. His anger excited her and made her feel out of control. The slow, almost contemptuous way he twisted his finger around in her pussy thrilled her and made her bite her lip.

No! Too much! She was making it too easy for him. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. She clamped her legs together and turned to him in one last attempt at reason: "Jack, Jack... Okay, look, I know you're upset. You're angry. But this isn't the way to deal with it. And I'm really not the one you're angry at, am I. You're angry at Jeannie, you're angry with yourself--"

"Oh, I'm angry with Jeannie, Doctor. But there's plenty left over for you too. For nine weeks we've been coming to your sessions and listening to you spout absolute nonsense and what did it get us? My marriage is over. My wife spends her time on the sofa at her parents' house watching Judge Judy and crying and making lists. Lists of what she wants from a relationship. Lists of what she wants in an ideal man. Lists of needs she has. Lists of things she hates about me...!

" Thanks for that list idea, Doc. That's been one big fucking help! As if anyone really knows what they really want. Lists and lists and lists! Then she tears them up and starts all over again. You've got that woman so confused she couldn't find her ass in the dark with both hands!"

"You're upset by her new independence, Jack?"

He glared at her and gave bitter laugh. "No. I'm upset that I was stupid enough to take marriage advice from a woman who's never had a husband and sexual advice from a woman whose main source of pleasure involves dressing up and playing a whore!"

Lacey shut up. He had found her out fair and square and she'd lost all credibility with him, all moral authority. Her thoughts turned to escape and ways to protect herself.

"Where are you taking me, Jack? Where are we going?"

"Well I'm not sure, Doctor. Where do you usually take your tricks? Some cheap hotel you fancy? Out in their cars or in the alley? A stall in the bathroom of some club?

"I know!" His smile was more of a leer. "Your office! It's perfect! No one there this time of night, nice comfortable couch, that soft plush carpet, big wide desk... That's where you go isn't it? You fuck your johns in the same room where you fuck your patients."

"Stop it Jack! Think of what you're doing! You're not being rational!"

"No, I'm not, am I?" He took a sharp right around a corner, the tires skidding slightly on the rain-slick street. He leered at her. "Exciting, isn't it?"

He hit the gas and in no time they were there. She'd chosen that bar because of its closeness to her office. Jack pulled into a spot next to the building and got out, came around and grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her seat.

She knew her building. She knew the hallways and stairways and exits, and thought she'd have a much better chance to escaping him here, but everything was happening too fast. He hustled her along as she stumbled in her four-inch heels. It was like being swept up by a tornado or caught n a flood. There was no resisting him. There was no question of breaking away.

Into the abandoned lobby and onto an elevator, no security guard in sight. Shattuck was wrong about her using the office for sex. She wasn't that stupid to link her whore persona with her professional identity. Men always invited her up to their rooms, and that's where she'd beguile them and pleasure them and make them think she was the best piece of ass in the world--the best fucker, the best sucker, the best moaner and groaner and comer, and all of it was faked. The thought of being raped in her office filled her with a nameless dread.

Shattuck looked at his watch. "It's ten after ten," he said. "I want you to keep track of the time so I can pay you afterwards. I want this to be just like a date with any other one of your tricks, so I want to pay you afterwards. Just like I pay for therapy. And by the way-- which do you charge more for, Doctor Evans? Sex or talk? I hope it's sex, because your talk isn't worth shit."

The elevator stopped and he dragged her down the hallway to her office door. "Open it."

Lacey keyed the door and Shattuck pulled heir inside, then into her inner office, her consultation room.

It was dim inside, quiet and sedate. The desk lamp was the only light, but still the room exuded that air of calm and tranquility she'd designed into it, only now she was anything but tranquil and calm. She'd been dressed as Nikki or one of her other girls here many times, but never under the threat of immanent sex, or worse.

Shattuck peeled her coat down off her arms. "Sit down, doctor, behind your desk, just like we're going to have a session. I always liked that chair. Herman Miller, isn't it? Big, imposing, even intimidating. It's like your throne. That's where I want you to sit."

Lacey did as he said, seating herself nervously in her big expensive executive chair. Shattuck took the very chair he'd been sitting in earlier and dragged it around behind her big teak desk so he could see all of her. He threw off his coat and jacket and made himself comfortable, stretching his legs out and folding his arms over his chest.

"Now, Doctor Evans, why don't we have a nice, reasonable discussion about our needs and what we hope to get from this encounter? Isn't that what you'd suggest, Doctor? That we treat sex in a mature and rational manner like two adults? Let's talk about just what we're going to do here tonight. Why don't you describe to me your deepest sexual desires and expectations, Lacey? Here. I'll make a list. I know you like lists. Then we can negotiate."

He took one of her legal pads from her desk and found a pen. "Good. Now, what are you hoping to get out of this session, Lacey? Do you want to orgasm? Do you want to suck my cock? Or are you just looking for a little physical affection and some cuddling? Protracted foreplay? Tenderness? Coital orgasm, or maybe oral, or manual? So many different things to discuss! Breast play? Are your breasts erotically sensitive Doctor? Do you enjoy nipple play, or does that just leave you cold?"

"Jack...!" Lacey was blushing. She was either embarrassed or excited and she couldn't tell which. She felt dizzy, disoriented, and inexplicably aroused.

"Take the pins out of your hair, Doctor. We're done with the wig."

She didn't move. Shattuck smiled and looked at his watch. "Ten eighteen. You're on the clock, doctor, and I'm waiting."

She took the pins and clips from her blonde hair and shook her hair free. She had beautiful hair, rich, thick, and pure honey blonde, but she usually wore it up to make herself look more professional. But now it hardly mattered.

Shattuck was impressed. He couldn't hide it as he watched her hair tumble around her shoulders. Lacey could see it in his eyes as she boldly gazed back at him.

Shattuck smiled. "Very nice. You do like your little disguises, don't you, Doctor?"

He gestured with his chin. "Now pull up your skirt."

Lacey could feel that sense of control returning to her, that power over his desire. She grasped the hem of her skirt and watched him as she slowly drew it up over her thighs, over her stocking tops, and then higher. She drew it up slowly, as if it was a theater curtain or an unveiling, finally stopping when she could go no higher and she knew he could see all the way up to the shadows that hid her thong.

Shattuck was staring hard now, making no pretense at coolness. His anger had turned into something else.

"Open your legs."

Lacey kept her smile to herself. She lay back in the chair and scooted her butt forward, and slowly parted her thighs, watching his face. It was lewd and obscene, exposing herself like this, but the look on his face was worth it. She was still caught between Nikki and Lacey, and Nikki was winning. Nikki loved whoring for a man who appreciated it

She slid forward further till she was almost reclining, her butt on the edge of the chair, her shoes flat on the floor, her knees splayed wide. She knew what she must look like with the dark stockings framing the fair pale skin of her upper thighs and black thong fully exposed and stretched tight with the meat of her bulging labia and it excited her too. There was a little fire in her belly now, a little glow like she felt when she had a john totally under control. The trick was to make him feel that he was in charge, that he was calling the shots.

"Your shirt," Shattuck said drily. "Open it. All the way."

Opening her blouse revealed her naked breasts in their little white shelf bra, her nipples taut and shiny with expectation, the areolas virginal pink.

She heard the tiniest groan from Shattuck's lips, a groan of erotic pain, and she knew she had won. He wanted her. He wanted what she had, and that put her in control.

"Now play with yourself, Doctor. Play with your pussy. Keep your hands outside your panties. Touch yourself through the fabric."

Yes, she would. It seemed almost natural to let her hand drift down over her naked tummy and slowly caress her moist slit. She dragged her red nails over the silky thong, enjoying Shattuck's feverish breathing and unwavering stare.

Her fingers felt good. She wasn't worrying about Lacey or Nikki. He knew. Her secret was out and she didn't have to pretend anymore. For the first time they were both her and she groaned aloud with the salacious realization, reveling in the joy of her shame revealed and accepted. It made her incredibly aroused and she began to slowly grind her hips into the chair as her fingers toyed with her awakening clit. The muscles of her thighs flexed and relaxed. Her tummy trembled when she hit that selfish little nub just the right way, pleasuring herself for his pleasure. Shattuck was still sprawled in his chair and the outline of his big hard cock was screamingly evident, the big male gorilla in the room and, barely under his control.

"Take your clothes off," he said, sitting up. "All of them. Panties too. Leave your shoes and stockings. They remind me you're my whore."

He stood up and stripped off his clothes, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks and tie and shirt but leaving his pants on, as if denying her a look at what she wanted so much.

Lacey quickly slipped out of her jumble of clothing, then set about undoing her garters so she could get her panties off. She felt a sudden twinge of panic seeing this near-naked man in her office. Physical intimacy of any kind was strictly forbidden in therapy, the sin of sins. And yet here she was, naked in her chair with her legs spread shamelessly, surrounded by her books and diplomas and awards and certificates, and she was about to get fucked. Her pussy was soaking wet. Her tits ached to be sucked. She needed his rough hands on her, his selfish kisses and hungry moans. She was empty inside with a gnawing hollowness, and she needed the hardness of his anger to fill her, the fury of his dirty male lust.

Shattuck's cock had spotted his pants but he seemed in no hurry. He picked up his tie and walked over to her, leaning over so her neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair was right below his gaze. He slid the tie around her neck.

"You've heard plenty from Jeannie about what I'm like in bed," he said. "Doesn't that scare you?"

She'd heard. She'd heard about the ropes and cuffs and gags, about Jack Shattuck's sexual proclivities.

"You won't hurt me," she said. She stated it as a fact, though she had no idea why. But she knew it was true.

"No, I won't. But I won't kiss your ass like some of your two-hundred dollar tricks either. I know you now, Doctor. I think I might even know you better than you know yourself."

As he spoke he slid the tie around her neck, passed the small end over the long, and with a few deft moves tied a perfect Manhattan knot. He snugged it tight against her throat.

"One must always keep up appearances, Doctor. One must always maintain one's professional image."

She heard his zipper going down and she felt a chill down her spine. He wasn't like her other johns. He was teasing her, not falling all over himself to get his cock in her. He wasn't slavering and drooling all over her pussy as he tried to eat her into orgasm. He was in charge and he knew who she was and he had all the time in the world.

He pulled up on the tie, pulling into an upright position. Her eyes went to his face and saw that the anger had returned. No-- Not anger against her as a therapist. A man's anger for the woman he wants, anger against the crippling force of his own desire.

Then his cock was against her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth.

"Play with yourself," he said. "Masturbate. You're my whore now, so masturbate while you suck me. Show me how you love it."

Yes. Yes! Her hand went to her pussy. She was wet, greasy, famished for cock. The tie around her neck excited her. His strength excited her. The way he held her like a bitch on a leash and told her just what to do, just like she was no better than an animal. The big dick plunged into her throat and Shattuck hissed with pleasure. The head stuck in her gullet like a plum, and that excited her too. She was naked with her legs spread sucking and slavering over a client's prick in her own professional office as her cunt dripped all over her fingers and it was glorious. Delicious. Dirty and filthy and sublimely glorious.