No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 06

"Turn this way and hold this." Jane gave her the enema bag, instructing her to hold it up at her shoulder. "Don't let that down, the liquid will just flow back into it, and I don't want to have to clean it. Now let's see what to do about your pudenda. It's completely out of control."

Marcie realized too late Jane's intention. She could barely move and couldn't protect herself with one hand, but instead watched in horror as Jane began to apply shaving cream to her pubic mound. She was forced to spread her legs a little to give her more room and as she watched, the black bird's nest of hair became a meringue of white lather.

"Some pubic hair is appropriate on a lady," Jane was muttering, as if instructing a class in charm school. "But the patch of overgrown wicker you have down there is just another indication of your poor self-discipline." Jane took the razor and began to pull along Marcie's mound, starting at the crease with her thigh.

She couldn't hold out much longer from the liquid in her gut. The scraping of the razor against her sensitive parts, along with the tube up her ass, combined with the cramping of her colon made Marcie utter a groan so guttural it shocked the both of them.

"Please, Jane. I'm going to make a mess. I need to let this out of me."

Even her step-mother knew when it was enough -- that, or she didn't want to supervise Marcie cleaning up shit on the floor. She stopped shaving and turned her to squat over the toilet, pulling the tube out of her. As it came snaking out of her hole, Marcie could feel the enema liquid and shit dribbling out with it, until, with a pop it came out, followed by an explosive gush of liquid and feces. The feeling of relief was so intense she moaned, curling over to rest her elbows on her knees.

The slurry pulsed out of her, accompanied by gas and solids until her cramping subsided and only dribbles remained. She was fighting tears.

"Clean yourself up and then stand up. We need to finish this and then do your privates."

Marcie was confused until she remembered the douche. She wiped herself thoroughly and then stood up, seeing half of her mound clean shaven, the other have still covered with foam, much of it on her legs and belly.

She stood up, flushed the toilet, turning up her nose at the mess in the bowl and presented herself reluctantly to her step-mother.

With a few quick strokes, Jane removed much of the remaining cream and then directed Marcie to turn around, spread her legs, bend over and hold the counter top.

She wasn't at all certain was about to happen next, but she was too weak to protest. In a heartbeat she felt Jane spreading more cream on her labia and realized she was going to shave her lips. She just set her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping her step mother wouldn't cut her in the process. Oddly, her fingers were very gentle, pulling her labia to stretch the skin, gliding the razor across the lips.

"There," she said when she was done. "Look at yourself now." Jane took the warm washcloth and wiped away the residual soap to reveal a very tiny strip of thick hair stretching from the top of Marcie's slit to just below her waistband.

"I expect you to keep it this way as long as you live in this house. Don't think I won't check on you, 'cause I will. Now let's finish up in here so I can get dinner on the table."

Marcie sat facing the inside of the tub, this time to receive a tube in her vagina. Jane handed her a plastic bulb and instructed her in the use of a douche. The liquid flowing into her vagina came out just as fast as it went in, splashing in the tub and on her feet and legs. In a few moments it was over, with Jane handing her the washcloth to clean up.

The memory of that first day, and the pain and humiliation of the next four days of enemas and douches, along with the near constant nudity after school, hit Marcie like a cold shower. She had completely repressed the entire week. She had believed she had shaved herself out of some kind of wicked desire, when in reality it started from her step-mother's psychotic belief in devilry.

Her tea had long grown cold while she sat in a trance-like stat going over the week long torture. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, ever. After it was over, her step-mother never made any reference to it again; never made good on inspecting her pubic region, never discussed the entire affair.

A month later, Marcie wasn't sure it had ever happened, except for the record her pubic hair was keeping, and now, more than 10 years later, she was struggling to figure out how she had forgotten it and what that horrible sequence of events had done to her life.

* - * - * - *

"It was good of you to come, Dr. Green. I know this means a lot to Marcie." Patti invited him to sit on the couch as she took her seat in the chair. "Are you nervous?"

He laughed lightly. "Please, it's Monty. Nervous? About talking to my girlfriend's therapist? Why should I be nervous?" He smiled, comfortable being there. "Marcie asked if I could come over and I am more than happy to oblige. If there's anything I can do to help her, naturally I'd like to do it."

"Well, she's told me she's informed you of her concerns...about her need to be undressed in public, and perhaps equally important, her feelings of humiliation about being that way."

He nodded.

"She's told me you were..." she referred to her notes, "...'a mirror image' of me in your reaction. How did you react?"

"I think I said that it didn't matter to me if she wanted to be naked. That it would likely get us into trouble if she did it at the particular bar we were at, but if she really wanted to do it, I could find a club that would accommodate her without any problems." He said it as if they were discussing the cost of coffee.

Patti took a note. "Full disclosure here: you know she told be about the technology? The 'camera?' Please be aware that legally your NDA doesn't trump doctor/patient confidentiality."

"I understand. She mentioned it. That's fine, but before I leave, my legal team has advised me I'll need a signature from you on an NDA." He pulled it out of his briefcase and set it on the coffee table between them.

"So, what do you think? Isn't it a little odd that an exhibitionist finds herself on her boyfriend's secret camera?" She said it with sincerity and no hint of malice.

He took it at face value, smiling. "Neither of us was aware of the other's hidden aspects. Now we know. I'm hoping she can live with it. Her preferences don't bother me."

"But that's the thing, Monty. It isn't a preference with her and whether it bothers you or me is beside the point. It bothers her. She wants anything but to be an exhibitionist. From her perspective it's ruined her life and she's working hard to make the right choices. Now she's facing a terrible conflict -- she feels deeply for you, just as deeply as she feels against being naked in public. You had asked if there was anything you could do to help. What do you think would help?"

"Well, you're the therapist; can't say I've spent a lot of time worrying about how to help others untangle the messes they've gotten into. I've been...careful...I guess...not to get myself into too much trouble I couldn't get out of." He sat back to give the idea more thought. "How can I help? The best I can do is be supportive. If she doesn't want to strip ever again, I'll help her with that. If she decides she really can't live without being undressed, I'll support her feeling good about that. Frankly, I'm sure, if we stick together, I'll see her naked one way or another." He shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

She made a few notes and looked up from her book. "Hmmm. I was hoping for something else...do you think there's any way to avoid having the camera on while she's at your house? Or..." She stopped when she realized it wouldn't go anywhere. She continued on a different tack. "Marcie tells me you suffer from priapism. Is that true?"

He laughed again. "Priapism is an affliction that its sufferers would choose not to have. What I have is completely different -- I have long lasting erections that don't subside merely because I've had an orgasm. Did she mention I don't ejaculate as well?" He leaned forward, interested in where the conversation was going.

"She did mention that, and she's a bit unnerved by it. Perhaps you could help her understand that as well. It might put her at ease a little with her sexual...performance...if you like."

"Well, if she ever asks you, let her know I don't think there's a thing wrong with any aspect of her sexual performance."

"Monty, I think there's something you're not telling her. What do you suppose it is?"

It was one of those open ended questions that could mean anything. He wasn't terribly concerned about what she thought he was hiding, he wasn't even curious to know what she thought it might be. Time to take the conversation in another direction.

"I can see you're very concerned about Marcie's well-being...as you should be, being her therapist. Let me run an idea past you and see what you think of it."

He laid out a plan he had been thinking about since Marcie had first revealed her exhibitionism. When he had finished he looked at the counselor to see if there was any chance it might work.

"I can't endorse this, Monty. I want to believe, as you do, that it might do some good, but there's nothing to suggest it wouldn't cause her some harm as well."

"Well, you had asked what I could do to help, and I've been thinking deeply about this. Based on everything I know, it feels like a real possibility."

"Feeling like a possibility is a far cry from a research-based approach with appropriate controls."

"But I'm not even mildly interested in making this a research project. Marcie is obviously in pain and how much progress have you two made in the past year..."

"...sometimes these things take time, Monty. I think, and I think Marcie would agree, we've made huge gains in the past few months. This is a deep seated issue. I don't want you playing Doctor, in spite of your degree."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest you aren't helping. Let me try it again. Would it be something you would be willing to monitor, assuming she agrees to it? Would you be willing to participate more fully in it, assuming you had the time -- I would be happy to underwrite your costs."

Patti looked at him, sizing him up. The proposal was outrageous, but she could see he was sincere, if a bit naïve. The thing is, she realized, he's not stupid, and he has some background in the area.

"Let me think about it for a day or two. Let me discuss it with Marcie and see how she feels about it. If she is open to the idea, I would be willing to work with you. I'd need to look into protocols of this type -- it's not novel, you understand, even if your technology is."

He saw the meeting was over and began to collect his things. "I'd appreciate you keeping an open mind and give it some thought. And...if you could just review that document and sign it, I'd appreciate your help getting my lawyers off my back."