The Therapist

"Why don't you get comfortable." The therapist said in his baritone voice. "I understand this is your first time seeking therapy?".

"Yea ... it's a little embarrassing," I admitted as I made my way to the soft green couch in the middle of the room. A warm light was coming from two lamp shades behind the couch, illuminating a dark wood paneled room stacked high with bookcases.

"Well, we'll take things one step at a time." He smiled reassuringly, a twinkle playing across his startlingly green eyes.

"Just lie down on the couch, and I'll sit on this chair over here." He said, pointing to a plush red armchair just behind and to the side of the couch.

"Now my habit is to record sessions so I can better focus on my client instead of being busy writing notes. If you don't mind, I'll start the recorder now. And of course, you needn't worry - everything is strictly confidential here." He emphasized the point with a slight nod that let one of his half-length, salt-and-pepper locks fall across his face.

I nodded slightly, trying not to stare at his handsome face too much. Men had become so ... distracting ... ever since the incident. That's what I called it in my head - the "incident". Anything to make the events feel more removed from myself and less overwhelming and all-consuming. I hadn't been able to focus on anything since that day. Well, anything but ...

I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my mind. I bit my lip, and focused my eyes on the green couch, settling down slowly on my back with the therapist out of sight. I heard his deep voice drifting up from behind me.

"Now, just start at the beginning: What would you like to achieve in our sessions and what thoughts or experiences would you like to discuss?" he asked.

"Ok, so this is really embarrassing for me ..., "I started," but something happened to me that I'm really ashamed of and I can't stop thinking about it. I dream about it every night. Sometimes I hope it happens again, but then I also don't want it to happen again, you know? I'm just really confused."

"Confused, hmm-hm," he mirrored.

"Yea, so I guess what I would really want is some clarity and for the thoughts and dreams to go away." I finished.

"Yes, processing and closure. Very good. Let's start by talking about what happened." he said.

"Ok, well ..." I hesitated. "It started when I hurt my hip doing a workout. A friend of mine recommended a physical therapist, and the guy just worked magic, you know? He'd give me these massages and the pain would just be entirely gone. That would last for about 3 days though, while my appointments were weekly. So after a few sessions, I asked the physical therapist if I could have an extra session that week. He said he was really busy though, but I kind of pushed him. Said it would mean a lot to me, and I was flexible with time slots and all that. He was quiet for a bit and then suggested I'd come over to his practice in the evening the next day when he was finished with all his clients. I was really happy about this and thanked him profusely."

I was quiet for a while.

"And did you go to your evening session?" The therapist prompted.

"Yes, yes, sorry." I stuttered. "I did. It was dark out, and cold. And the practice looked kinda dim instead of the bright light flooding through the windows during the day. Anyway, everything started like normal. I took off my pants and lay down on my belly on the massage table. The guy would then just massage my hip for 20 minutes. Like one of those deep tissue ones, you know. But it was evening, and I was feeling really really tired. I think I dozed off a little. Ended up in this sort of half dream state like I sometimes do. I guess here is where the embarrassing part starts ... I think I sort of ... like ..."

I bit my lip, daring myself to continue speaking. I screwed my eyes shut trying to calm my breathing.

"You sort of ..." the therapist prompted.

"I sort of... moaned," I whispered softly, half hoping he didn't hear me. " ...like when he was massaging me. I think I started moaning softly in sort of a half sleep."

"Ah, " he cleared his throat, and I could hear his clothes rustle as he shifted in his seat. " you moaned...?" he repeated in an unexpectedly husky voice.

"Yes ..."

I was starting to feel the heat in my face. Unbidden thoughts were returning. Words started tumbling over each in my head.

"I didn't mean to," I continued in a rush, "I just ... I wasn't thinking. And the massage was so relaxing, and it was late and I was tired. And I didn't even realize what I was doing. And it shouldn't really matter right? He was a professional. I'm not even sure what happened after that, cause I was still sort of dozing. It all happened like in a dream. It felt like he paused in the massage, and then shifted my legs apart a little. I was feeling so languid and relaxed, I just went along with it. Then I felt him climbing up on the massage table and then his knees were pressing up against the insides of my thighs. And all the while he kept massaging me and it was great, like really great. Really relaxing. And I was still making those sounds I think. And then his hands started moving away from my hips and making small circles across my ass, moving outward. I could feel the muscles stretching and it felt so amazing. His thumbs were digging deep into the tissue and it sent tingles up my spine. And with each circle I could feel his thumbs stretching and spreading me more from the inside out."

I finished that last sentence completely out of breath. I felt a heat and throbbing gathering between my legs. Still panting slightly, I asked: "Should I continue?"

"Hmm, you were talking about stretching and spreading..." he let the last word dangle between us.

"Yes, " I whispered. "I was still dozing like I said, but then he made one last circle, and his fingers wrapped around the outside of my hips, while his thumbs hooked between my thighs, spreading me as far as I could go. He paused like that for a second, and then I felt something pushing up against my pussy and it slid right in. His cock was so massive, I've never been spread that far, and I could feel his balls slap against me as he speared me on his cock in one stroke. I definitely woke up fully then - I, I ... I screamed for him to stop. Told him this wasn't what I wanted." I stuttered, words tumbling over each other again.

I was quiet for a few seconds.

"And what did he say?" the therapist prompted, his voice even huskier than before.

"He said that my pussy wanted this. That I was soaking wet like a dirty whore and moaning like a little slut. He said I had been leaving little puddles of cum on his massage table after every session..."

The therapist shifted in his seat again. His voice came more slowly now.

"Ah ... And... is that true?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly strangled.

"I ... I don't know ..." I replied, flustered.

"How did you feel with his cock filling you up like that?" He asked softly.

"I ... I don't know... " I stuttered. "I couldn't think. It was wrong and dirty, right? My mind just blanked completely, and I felt super panicked. I tried to get up. I really did. I told him to get off and to stop. I screamed for him to stop. But he just put one hand on my back and pushed me down while his huge cock was penetrating my pussy so deeply. He said: "Stay still, you little slut". Then he grabbed my hips again, and fucked me so hard I started moaning all over again. I couldn't help it. Then he grabbed my hair, and pulled it back viciously. It hurt so much, I raised myself up against his chest just to keep it from pulling out. He wrapped one arm around my chest, hand on my throat, half choking me. While his other arm kept me pinned on his huge cock, with his fingers tweaking one of my nipples hard. Then he started lifting me slightly by my throat and then ramming me down on his cock again. My head was bent back over his shoulder and he kept whispering horrible things into my ear."

Everything went quiet again. I was expecting the therapist to say something. To tell me it wasn't my fault. That I had been raped. Or maybe even that it hadn't happened at all. That it was all just a dream.

Instead it was just quiet till I heard him adjusting himself in his seat again. Finally his voice came drifting up from behind my head, his deep baritone whisper sending a thrill down my spine.

"I have a few questions for you," he said, "And I'll need you to answer truthfully. Can you do that?"

"I ... I'll try," I said.

"Good girl..." he seemed to pause to breathe. I could hear him breathing. Was that odd? Had I been able to hear him breathe this whole time?

"First, you said his cock slid into your pussy with a single thrust. That is only possible when a woman is very wet. Were you very wet?" He paused for an answer, his breathing coming loudly.

"I ... I guess I must have been" I replied softly, my cheeks flushing.

"Ah, good." He exhaled deeply. "Secondly, and I'd like you to listen extra carefully now. We're going to try a small exercise. On my cue, I'd like you to turn around and face me, look me right in the eyes, and repeat to me word for word what he whispered into your ear as you were riding his cock. To fully understand what happened and how it affected you, I need to be able to read the emotion in your eyes. I also need to see if you will be able to hold eye contact with me all the way through, or if you will become ... distracted."

He paused waiting for a reply. My mind was blanking, the urge to jump up and flee itching across my limbs.

"Can you do that?" He asked softly.

"I ..." my voice stuck in my throat. He was the professional here, right? He'd know how to get these thoughts out of my head. It was hard to trust anyone after what happened, and at the same time my body felt like it was on fire ... throbbing.

"I ..." my voice stuck again, but I pushed through. "I'll try."

"Perfect," He replied. "Now one last thing. I'd like you to address me as 'sir' from here on out. These exercises that we'll be doing will be very challenging for you, and it will be crucial that we maintain a professional distance for the therapy to be successful. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I replied, "Sir." I added.

"Good. Now on my cue, turn around, look me in the eyes and repeat what he said back to me word for word. If you have trouble remembering the words, take a moment to think back how you felt when you were impaled on his huge cock, his arms locking you in place, bent across his shoulder with his breath in your ear ... Can you recall how that felt?" He asked.

"Yes ... sir." I replied weakly.

"Good. Now on my mark..." he paused for a few seconds. "Turn around now."

I sat up from the couch, turned my head to the therapist, and was shocked to find him sitting on the chair stroking a massive cock. I couldn't take my eyes off it as it must have been even bigger than that of the physical therapist.

"Hmmm, now, now. Remember the exercise. Look into my eyes." He said, mild reproof seeping through his voice.

"Ye.. yea ... yes, sir," I stumbled, pulling my gaze up to his piercingly green eyes.

"He said:" I began in a barely audible whisper.

"Speak up now," The therapist's voice cut across mine sternly.

"He said:" I tried again louder, then faltered. Gazing deeply into his eyes, I was starting to feel rather light-headed and dizzy.

"Yes, go on." he prompted me gently, his gaze never wavering, his hand slowly stroking his member.

"He said:" I tried one last time, "He said: 'You dirty little slut, you've been hoping I'd do this to you, weren't you?"

A slight smile spread across the therapist's face.

"That's great progress." He whispered. "Now for the next exercise I'd like you to kneel in front of me. You're going to close your eyes and imagine the physical therapist in front of you. Then you're going to clear your mind, and let all your unwanted thoughts and feelings flow through you. Act out every forbidden impulse. Say every forbidden word. Get it all in the open, so we can see what we are dealing with.

"Yes ... sir," I whispered back, still rigidly staring into his deep green eyes.

I walked over to him slowly and sank down onto my knees, all the while staring up at his beautiful eyes. He looked down at me, his erect cock inches from my face. It was so monstrously large we had to glance around it to keep our gazes locked. Then I closed my eyes slowly, and tried to focus on my fast breathing, the throbbing ... the heat ... the tingling.

An overwhelming maelstrom of sensations swept across me and drowned me deeply. Panic and disgust intertwined with release and desire. I licked my lips ... bit my lips ... screwed my eyes tightly shut and then relaxed them again. I don't know what the therapist could read from my face but it must have been volumes.

My breath kept coming in ragged gasps. I parted my lips to breath more easily, licked my teeth, slacked my mouth into an O. Then through the maelstrom, I felt an electric jolt run from the top of my head down my spine as the therapist's hand softly came to rest on the top of my head. For a moment it was calming, then he gently moved my head forward, my lips met the head of his cock, and his hand shifted to the back of my neck. The pressure on the back of my neck increased gently, and I had to open my mouth to a full gape to accommodate his monstrous cock. He kept pushing it farther and farther down my mouth, into my throat. My mind was like putty, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I felt no agency at all.

He started slowly fucking my mouth then, blocking my breath entirely on every in-stroke, till there was no way his huge member could move a fraction of an inch farther down my throat. On every backstroke, my nostrils flared for air and I softly started to whimper for breath whenever I could.

Finally I could feel his cock swelling impossibly larger, and great gushes of cum started spurting into my throat. He came for a whole minute straight, every load larger than the last. Me sputtering for breath, trying to swallow all the cum he was pumping into me.

Then his hand relaxed off the back of my neck. He pulled his cock out my mouth, and held it in one hand as it went slightly limp. He looked down at me with his beautiful green eyes and said:

"How did that feel, little slut?"

"I ... I don't know," I whispered guiltily, feeling my own wetness slide down the inside of my thighs.

"Hmm, " he hummed in his sweet baritone, cocking his head slightly to the side, still stroking his cock that looked hardly diminished from its efforts.

"You did well. It is clear that you have a lot of repressed thoughts and feelings. We can work on those in our sessions till you're freed from them entirely. Would you like that?" he asked, looking down at me kneeling at his feet.

"Yes, sir" I replied meekly, mesmerized by his eyes, mind blank and under his spell.

"Now we'll do one final exercise for today. Something to help you process all the sensations and experiences of this session. Please listen carefully again. I'd like you to lie back down on the couch and close your eyes, then wait for further instructions."

"Yes, sir." I said, and did as he said. As I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, I heard him get up.

"Now I'm going to touch you for a moment, but only to guide you into the right position for the exercise. Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes, sir," I whispered again, a distant part of me realizing those two words were turning into a mantra of abandon.

I felt his hands on my stomach, and then pulling on the front of my pants. He unbuttoned them, and I lifted my hips so he could slide them down. He pulled off my shoes and socks, and then tugged my pants off. Then he hooked his fingers into my panties at the hips and removed them in one smooth motion.

"Ah, well ..." I heard him mutter to himself. "I think you will have an easy time with this next exercise judging by the state of your underwear...".

A little louder he said "I'm now going to adjust your legs a little," and he bent and spread my legs so my dripping wet pussy was entirely exposed. Then he gently lifted my head and placed a small pillow under it.

"There now, you're all ready." he said, "This next part is up to you. I'd like you to keep your eyes closed for now. You will first use both of your hands to spread your pussy. Make it go as wide and inviting as you can, letting all the juices drip out freely. Then I'd like you to rub yourself till you cum. Don't worry if you are feeling tense or self-conscious. I'm here all the way to talk you through it. If you want to make any sounds, feel free to do so. If you want to tell me anything or ask me anything while you're rubbing yourself, feel free to do so. We will sit here and keep going till you cum, with your pussy spread and convulsing." He finished.

I bit my lip.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked.

"I ... no, sir." I replied.

"Good. One last thing," he added. "At some point, I will tell you to open your eyes. You will do so promptly when told to. Do you understand?".

"Yes, sir." I replied.

"Good. Now start by spreading your pussy." He said.

"Yes, sir". I said, and reached down with both my hands. I pulled my pussy wide, feeling some of the tension drain as a little trickle of my wetness slipped out and dripped onto the couch.

"Like this, sir?" I asked.

"Wider." His voice came back turning husky again.

"Yes, sir." I replied, and pulled my pussy lips apart farther, feeling the strain building around the edges. My thighs and ass were wet now from all my juices having dripped out. I was sure a puddle had formed under me on the couch.

"That's better." He whispered, "Now touch yourself."

I moved one hand up and started rubbing my clit, dipping into my soaking pussy once in a while, feeling my fingers glide around between my swollen lips. A soft moaning started escaping my lips. My eyes were still closed, but I couldn't help myself from imagining the therapist looking at me while I was rubbing and spreading my pussy. Then the image of the physical therapist became super-imposed, and all the things he had done to me. His massive cock, and how it forced into me ... How he had raped me, and how I had screamed, and how I came so hard on his horrible, hard cock. How it filled me up, and my pussy kept milking it and milking it for more cum.

I was breathing hard now, my moans coming more and more loudly. I was almost at the edge. Nearing the edge. I felt my pussy throbbing and expanding, and just as I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I heard the voice of the therapist cut sternly across my helpless mind.

"Open your eyes, little slut"

And I did.

I came so hard, rubbing my wet, spread pussy. The therapist was sitting at the other end of the couch, just 3 feet away, gazing down on my spread pussy and exposed face. He held his phone in his hand, the red light of the recorder blinking across my orgasm. I stared right into the shutter as my mind was blown into an earth-shattering orgasm.

Wave after blissful, dirty wave of cum kept gushing out of my pussy as I stared into the camera. After an eternity, I felt entirely spent. I sank back into the pillows behind my head, closed my eyes, and promptly nodded off.

I awoke later, a blanket laid across me. The room was empty.

I quickly got dressed and fled from the room. I made my way home in a daze, not sure what had happened. Once I had showered and laid down in bed for the night, I checked my phone for messages.

It was my therapist.

"That was a remarkable first session. I think we can make considerably more progress on a more intensive therapy schedule. I'd like you to drop by my practice tomorrow so we can discuss options for scheduling and payment. I know these intensive programmes can sometimes go outside one's means, but I'm sure we can find options that will accommodate the both of us. Meanwhile, I've attached some homework for you. Here is a report of today's progress, as well as an assignment to complete before our next session."