Proclivities - Pt. 09: Psychoanalysis

I flushed, washed my hands and checked my appearance. A few adjustments and I was pretty sure I looked the same as when I'd entered.

As I returned to our table, I felt a familiar, yet undeniable, thrill. My breasts wobbled only slightly, confined by the shrug; nonetheless, their movement stiffened my nipples, while the fresh air softly playing beneath my skirt, taunting my pussy. Conveniently blaming the alcohol, I walked slowly and seductively, confirming George's earlier observation. Smiling in acknowledgement, little did they know my thought was, 'I bet your date has her underwear on!'

As I'd hoped, our dessert had arrived and I rejoined George at our table.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, why?"

"You seem a little flushed."

"I suppose I might be. There were several guys checking me out on my way back, and you know how that affects me." I confessed, pleased that he seemed oblivious of my change in attire.

"Can't say I blame them. You are extraordinarily alluring tonight."

"Thanks," I replied, as he tapped the top his dessert with a spoon, shattering the crystalline caramel top.

I followed his lead and took a creamy, crunchy spoonful.

"Oh yum!" I said delightedly.

"Glad you like it," he replied. "I figured someone who likes custard as much as you would," adding a special emphasis on custard.

"No offense, but theirs is better than yours."

"None taken."

"On the other hand, maybe you can whip up a batch later so I can do another taste test."

"It would be my pleasure."

"I bet." I said, savoring my dessert and our playful banter.

A few suppressed giggles later, we silently enjoyed the dessert and the sunset as it evolved from yellow-orange to reds and pinks, expiring in a soft deep purple, all while his hand crept across the table to interlock with mine. Once darkness arrived, he motioned to the waiter for the check.

"Let me get this settled," he said, "So we can go home and I'll get cooking."

"You know I love watching you cook."

Shortly, the waiter appeared with the bill, placing it on the table within a black vinyl folder.

"Whenever you're ready, sir," he added.

"We're ready now," replied George as he withdrew his wallet from his jacket, took a quick look at the bill and put cash in the folder, returning it to the waiter. "No need to bring any change."

"Thank you very much," replied the very pleased waiter.

"You're welcome. The service was superb."

"Both of you have a great evening, and please come again," he replied, then departed.

"I'm sure we will," George grinned, the waiter had already turned away and did not get to appreciate the innuendo.

"Oh, that was wonderful," I said as we exited the restaurant, holding hands.

"Yeah, it was nice, but the company is what made it such a delight."

I squeezed his hand tightly as we descended the steps and made our way to the car, where he embraced me and delivered a deep kiss.

"Happy anniversary, my love" he said, opening the door.

"Love you, too," I replied, undoing the clasps on the shrug and lifting the back of my skirt so my naked ass rested on the seat before buckling my seatbelt.

Once we'd put the restaurant and the brightly lit streets around it behind us, I unbuttoned two more buttons on my blouse. Holding it open and glancing down, I declared with feigned dismay, "Oh my! I seem to have lost my bra."

"Goodness, how could that have happened?" he asked, continuing the charade.

"I'm not sure, but it seems I've also lost my panties!" I confessed, raising my skirt to expose my dewy smooth pussy.

"Hmm," he replied, stroking his chin in contemplation and raising my expectations. "It seems you've developed quite an affliction."

"Affliction? What does that mean?" I wasn't sure where this was leading, but I was positive that his hyperactive imagination would provide the requisite guidance and my pulse quickened at the prospect.

"You'll have to come to my clinic for a more detailed examination and some tests, to determine a treatment."

"Will that cure me, doctor?" I asked, batting my eyes at him, while lowering my skirt. This was getting interesting!

"Cure? There is none." he replied gravely. "All I can offer is regular treatments, and, hopefully, we can manage your condition."

"Condition? Oh my, what have I got?"

"Lasciva Puella Sindroma. Worst case I've ever seen."

" Las...whatever. Give it to me straight, doc."

"You've got naughty girl syndrome."

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, dramatically raising my right hand facing outwards across my forehead, but actually stifling a laugh, delighted with our antics.

"I'm afraid so."

"How long will I need treatments?"

"A lifetime, I'd venture. And the sooner they start, the better," he replied with a captivating twinkle in his eye. "And more to the point, foregoing treatment could lead to poor sleep patterns, the inability to concentrate and general bitchiness."

"You're the doctor."

As we headed west, night had settled in, and with the intimacy of the darkness, he asked, "So tell me, have you noticed any new behaviors I should know about?"

"Well, doctor," I began demurely, "quite a few. My boyfriend is very, umm, imaginative."

"I see. And this boyfriend, how long have you known him?"

"Since last Friday."

"My! That was quick."

"I suppose it would seem that way to most people."

"Indeed it would. Are you sure he's your boyfriend?"

"Oh, yes. As he said, he's never been more certain about anything."

"Okay, but what makes your relationship so special?"

"Until I met him, I'd never considered myself sexy, or at least didn't have the confidence to believe I could be. He convinced me."

"More like converted. I'd venture to say. He's a very lucky man."

"Thank you, doctor."

"You most welcome. So tell me, how did he convert you?"

"I'm not sure how to summarize it," I replied, loving our game, but also buying some time to formulate an appropriate, but still honest reply. "But the best would be I learned to overcome my inhibitions."

"Which were?"

"Well, it's a little embarrassing..."

"Naturally, but, as your doctor, Miss Huggins, I'm legally bound not to disclose anything, so don't be afraid."

His intentions were becoming clear now, acting as if he knew nothing about me. Sure, we'd be covering some old ground, but I didn't mind. Besides, there was the added thrill to confess some things he didn't know. I just hoped I could continue discussing him in the third person.

"In that case," I replied deliberately, "my previous sexual encounters have been...disappointing."

"Disappointing?"

"Yes. Maybe because of my inexperience, but they certainly weren't about my pleasure."

"And now it is?"

"Yes, but there's so much more to it than that. He touches parts of me, my soul, that I didn't know existed. It's as if he knows just what to say or do to draw out my naughty side. Delightfully so, I might add."

"Such as?"

"Umm, I discovered I'm really turned on exposing myself very explicitly to him and to others in a much more limited way."

"Others?"

"Well, one of my favorites is while we're driving at night on some back roads. I feel safe that only he will see and yet there's the thrill of being in public, so to speak. We even took some pictures on his patio of me in the nude and on the boardwalk discretely exposing myself."

"Discretely? On the boardwalk? That seems impossible."

"There was hardly a soul around," I said.

"So there was a possibility that someone saw you."

"I don't believe so, but that's what makes it so thrilling."

"I see," he said. "What did you think of the photos?"

"Taking them is deeply arousing, but the surprising part has been posting my pictures on the internet, with my face concealed, of course."

"Interesting. And how does that make you feel?"

"Super sexy." I confessed, loving how our game allowed me to confide my deepest feelings.

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"Well, it's the comments and emails I receive as a result. I didn't expect them to be so overwhelmingly positive, greatly reaffirming my sexiness. I feel both desired and desirable which was an epiphany of sorts."

As he turned the car into the drive he said, "I'm sure it was. But here's my clinic. Please come in and we'll continue the analysis."

"But doctor, this is your house!" I said, pretending to be shocked, but mostly to continue our charade.

"Indeed it is. I couldn't exactly put up a sign Doctor of Psychology, Specializing in Treatment of Sexual Disorders, now could I? My office is upstairs. You did want a thorough diagnosis and appropriate therapy, did you not?"

"Yes, but I didn't expect..."

"There's nothing to fear. I'm a professional." His accompanying wink assured me that he was enjoying this as much as I was.

"I suppose," I replied meekly, still playing along.

"That doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you positive you want a complete diagnosis?"

"Yes, I do," I replied with more conviction. "How else will I know how bad my condition is?"

"Excellent. I'll need all the information you can provide to determine the appropriate treatment."

'Doctor' George led me inside, up to the bedroom. With only his desk lamp providing soft illumination, he directed me sit in one of the chairs by the window. He grabbed a pad and pen from his desk, wheeled his desk chair in front of me and sat down, playing up his role.

"Just give me a minute while I make notes for your file," he said, jotting down items on his pad, softly muttering snippets -- syndrome...fantasies...disappointment...exhibitionism.

"Now where were we?" he asked looking at me directly. "Right. Getting back to the crux of the matter, until very recently, you suppressed your sexuality. What changed that?"

"Nothing...and everything," I replied, but I could tell further explanation was required. "It's just that everything is so natural. I'm still the same person, just more sexually aware -- very aware -- and the truth is I've never felt more alive."

"I see," he replied, trying to maintain his serious demeanor and jotting down notes, but his delight clearly evident. "Why is that?"

"I guess you could say he's summoned a part of me I didn't know existed."

"That seems improbable. It must have always been there."

"I suppose so," I replied, "Just vaguely."

"Vaguely?"

"What I mean is, from the many romance novels I've read, the ones I enjoyed most were where the heroine reluctantly succumbed to her desires, but then embraced them passionately."

"Did you masturbate to them?"

"Yes," I replied softly, turning away from him, acting the reluctant heroine.

"There's no need for embarrassment. It's very common. The only difference is those who admit it and those who don't. So how often did you masturbate?"

"A couple of times a week."

"Really? That all?"

"Well..." I confessed reservedly, "Maybe it was four or five times a week."

"That seems more likely. Thank you for being honest, Miss Huggins. So what were you thoughts when you did?"

"That's hard to describe."

"Why is that?"

"They were incomplete. Mostly, it involved some of the cute dads I'd seen at the library where I used to work...Oh! I guess I didn't tell you I used to work in the children's department at the local library..."

"No, you didn't, but please continue."

"Anyway, I thought about one of them taking me. Aggressively, almost primitively."

"I see, and how did this happen?"

"That's hard to say."

"Really?"

"Not because I don't want to tell you, doctor, it's just that they weren't fully formed," I replied, determined to be open. "Mostly it was just about how much I wanted to make love like that. The rest of the details never manifested themselves."

"But now they have?"

"Most definitely."

"You mentioned liking to show off, but is there anything else?" he probed.

"Oh yes!" I confirmed, and as I disclosed my feelings, I found the experience deeply arousing. "The biggest being I've done things I'd only fantasized about and some I'd never considered, but each has gone to the core of my deepest desires, that, like I said before, were unknown to me or, at least, had not presented themselves so precisely."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Well," I replied slowly, collecting my thoughts and gathering the courage to be explicit. "I certainly never expected to ever have a Brazilian waxing, deepthroat his cock, swallow his copious cum or take it on my face. The thrill of posting my naked pictures on the web was...remarkable. But the most surprising was finding I like anal sex."

"My, oh my, you have been busy! And all this since last Friday?" he asked, with as much incredulity as he could muster.

"Yes," I replied softly. He was right: it had been extraordinary, my slight blush revealing a bit of unexpected embarrassment. Where did that come from? You'd think I'd past that, I just hoped he found it endearing.

"So," he said, unable to hide his delight, "is there anything that you haven't tried you would like to?"

"Well..."

"Now, Miss Huggins, if I'm going to determine an appropriate therapy," he said gravely, although his expression was nothing short of thrilled anticipation, providing the encouragement I sought. "You must be completely honest with me."

"In that case, doctor...when he showed me the website where he proposed posting my pictures, he let me peruse it for a while to make sure I was willing to do it...and, unknown to him, there were some bondage pictures that definitely piqued my interest."

"Really?" he asked joyfully.

"Yes, really."

"Do you think this is a further extension of reluctantly succumbing to you desires?"

"Probably, but honestly, doctor, I haven't thought much about why. I just know I had an immediate and deeply stimulating reaction to the possibility."

"You're right; the analysis is my job," he said with a soft smile while making a show of reviewing his notes. "Very well then. I believe we can now go over my proposal for your treatment. Just wait a minute while I check our inventory."

"Okay," I said hesitantly, confused as he stood and went into his closet and, after some rummaging about, he returned with a box that he placed on my lap, as he sat back down. It was about a foot square, six inches deep and surprisingly heavy.

My pulse immediately quickened as I examined the cover. The bold lettering declared the contents as a complete bondage kit, superimposed over a proactively posed woman whose wrists and ankles were bound by black leather cuffs while a similar collar emblazoned with rhinestones that spelled out BITCH adorned her neck. A leash was attached to a stainless ring integrated with the collar, while rope encircled her bound breasts. Clear plastic enveloped the box, comforting me, so to speak, that at least it had never been opened. I assumed that George had been saving this for an opportune moment...and I was it. Was this another of his proclivities he'd yet to act on? We'll have to discuss that later. Now is hardly the time.

"Oh my god, doctor!" I exclaimed.

"I thought that was your desire. Was I wrong?"

Now, in the pictures I'd seen, similar devices had been used, but this was way more than I had expected, and the sudden reality was both alarming and alluring.

"No, you weren't wrong. I just didn't expect that your clinic was so well...equipped"

"I understand, but why don't you open it and take a look. If you change your mind, I can return it to storage."

"That's reasonable..." I replied, not totally convinced I should, but his silence and my curiosity got the better of me, so I flipped the box over and slid my thumbnail between the top and bottom, breaking the seal, then looked up at him to find his reassuring smile.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"You might say that."

"I would be surprised if you weren't. It's a big decision that only you can make. If it's too much, I would understand."

"That's a relief," I replied. Actually it was more, much more. After his demanding temperament on Friday, I was delighted with the contrast and the implicit indication of his feelings. So let's see what's in this box!

I finished removing the plastic wrapping, flipped the box over, and with a furtive glance, removed the cover, gently placing it on the floor together with the wrapping. Hmm, everything was sealed in yet more clear plastic. Slightly annoyed, I ripped it open, dumping the contents into the bottom of the box and tossing the plastic aside.

Upon examination, the assorted jumble seemed overwhelming, but, taking a deep breath, I separated the contents. Four soft leather cuffs each with ominous buckles, snap hooks and a steel ring, however, their quilted padding made them less so. Well, at least a little, but I couldn't deny the excitement rising within me. The collar was similarly constructed, its lettering causing a wry smile. Okay, but what's still here? The leash was obvious -- a leather loop connected to a steel chain and terminating with a bolt snap, but there were also four lengthy black nylon straps with swiveling steel bolt snaps affixed to one end, their purpose now abundantly clear. A blindfold like a costume ball mask, just no eye holes, plus around eight feet of cotton rope about the diameter of my pinky, certainly no mystery there, but these little steel clamps connected by a chain? Holy shit! These weren't in the cover photo. Could I? Would I have a choice? Either way, decidedly threatening...and naughty. As I handled each item, my trepidation started fading, replaced with desire as I imagined how everything would look and feel.

I glanced up at him, seeking guidance, or reassurance, or maybe it was approbation. I wasn't really sure, but definitely something. I was totally confounded and at a complete loss for words, torn between excitement and fear. Not so much fear of the box's contents, but reconciling myself to the anticipation of its effects.

As usual, he perceived my hesitancy and asked, "So Miss Huggins, do you have any questions or should I pack everything up and put it away?"

"No, don't put it away, but..."

"Yes, go on."

"Well, to be frank, doctor, I find the clamps intimidating."

"We can exclude them. Like I said, everything is your choice. I would never prescribe anything against your wishes. However, I would point out that there are little thumbscrews on them so you can adjust how tight they are."

"I hadn't noticed that," I admitted as they suddenly went from menacing to intriguing. "In that case leave them in."

"Very well, then. I'll include them in your therapy, which brings us to your treatment."

"And what would that be, doctor?" I asked, relieved, of sorts, that we were getting down to business.

"Having carefully considered your condition, I'm assigning your case to one of my therapists who specialize in those treatments," he replied with a wink as confirmation to keep up our roles.

"You mean you won't be performing the procedure?" I asked with mock surprise.

"No. These matters are best handled by a specialist. Trust me, he's extraordinarily qualified and is best suited to conduct your therapy."

"Whatever you think is best, doctor. So what is his name?"

"He will introduce himself shortly," he said, rising from his chair, taking the box from my lap. He removed the blindfold, handed it to me and said, "Go into the bathroom, get undressed, aside from your heels and stockings, and put this on. Remain there until the therapist calls you back in."

"That seems unusual," I countered.

"You are an unusual case, Miss Huggins, but don't worry, I'll review your case with you once the treatment has concluded. So, I'll let the therapist know you're ready and you can get prepared. I will leave him instructions to fully document your treatment so that afterwards we can assess the results and determine if it is efficacious."