The Tune Up

"In our marriage," Sheila had explained, "we are equal partners, but the legal term is spouse. In our psychiatric practice we are also equal partners, but there the legal term is partners. So I can introduce Virginia as my partner or as my spouse."

"She's waiting for you upstairs," Ginny said.

"Upstairs," meant the guest bedroom. Ginny was OK with what Sheila and I did, with one proviso. It could never be in their bedroom. Maybe "OK" isn't the right term. Ginny accepted what Sheila and I did, just like Dwayne accepted it. Neither really liked it.

For that matter, I didn't really like it either. I wish there were some other way, but the only way for Dwayne and me to remain close- or for me to be close to anyone- was for me to visit Sheila.

Sheila was sitting on the bed when I entered the bedroom. She was wearing a black bra with a matching set of panties and dark thigh-high stockings. She looked very sexy, but the real reason for her outfit was so that I didn't get her turned on. She was very faithful to Ginny and once they entered into a mutual relationship, she no longer joined me in post-tune up coitus.

I stripped and walked over to stand in front of her. Over the years, I had gotten into the habit- ritual?- of using a depilatory cream to remove all hair below my neck in preparation for our sessions. Partly it was to make myself even more naked. And partly it was to make my skin more sensitive to what was about to happen. Using the cream over my entire body made my skin very smooth and after I came back out from behind my wall, it was even more sensitive to all sensations.

She looked up at me and said, "You need to say the words for the recording."

I took a deep breath and began, "I am here of my own volition. I have not been coerced in any way. This action is by my request and is not associated with any therapy offered or given by Doctor Madison-Baxter. I know that this is being video recorded for Sheila's- Doctor Madison's protection and I agree to the recording and storage of these images and their use, if necessary, should Doctor Madison-Baxter need them to explain the nature of our sessions together."

Lawyers are always such mood killers, but my therapist wasn't the only one who knew of Sheila's sessions with me and because of me, she has had to defend herself several times against charges of inappropriate relations with a patient or patient abuse. I took a deep breath to clear my mind and lay myself down over her lap.

She picked up the little leather paddle that had been sitting on the bed alongside her. She spent several minutes just stroking my ass. "You do have a beautiful ass," she said softly. She looked up at the camera and added, "Almost as beautiful as Ginny's."

Virginia must review the videos, or perhaps she was watching live.

The first slap of the paddle took me by surprise and I gave a short gasp. It didn't really hurt, but I felt it more than I do if I have gone way too long between tune ups. It wasn't very many slaps until the swats were actually starting to hurt. I was starting to squirm my ass trying to avoid the slaps, but Sheila had my legs trapped with one of her legs while I lay over the other leg with my ass high in the air.

I could hear Sheila counting softly to herself. Somewhere in the high forties, I began screaming for her to stop. I don't know why I did that, because whenever I ask her to stop she starts hitting harder and faster. I yelled at her to stop twice more before the wall broke and I dissolved into tears and sobs.

After another dozen or so swats, she released my legs and I rolled over into the middle of the bed. She knelt beside me with one hand between my legs and the other massaging my tits. It didn't take long until I was screaming once again, this time from an extreme orgasm.

Sheila continued to stroke my belly and breasts lightly as I drifted in post-orgasmic bliss. After I had fully come back to normal, she said quietly, "Ginny needs to talk to us," and got up from the bed.

I started to pick up my clothes, but she said, "No, remain naked. Just follow me."

We walked downstairs and into the living room. Ginny was sitting in the middle of the room on a straight-backed wooded chair. She was fully-clothed and was holding a rather large, leather hairbrush in her hand.

I recognized the brush. It was the one I had bought for Dwayne when we tried to break down the wall ourselves. He whaled away on me with it for a long time before we finally admitted defeat and I called Sheila. Sheila was the only one who could spank me to tears and break my wall. I don't know why that is, but it is.

Ginny looked up at me and patted her lap. As I lay down she looked over at Sheila and said, "She does have a very nice ass." She smiled and added, "Thank you for saying mine was better."

She stroked my ass several times. I flinched as she ran her hands across some of the heavier welts. Then she slammed down into my ass with the hairbrush.

"Aaiiee!" I screamed.

It hurt! I screamed again, "Stop. Please stop! Oh, God, please stop!"

Then I started crying. She kept spanking, and I kept blubbering, "Stop, please stop," as I shook and convulsed on her lap.

After a few minutes I realized that I was crying softly and Ginny was again gently stroking my ass.

"I think the experiment was successful," she said.

"Experiment?" I asked, raising my head.

"Yes, experiment," Sheila said. "Doctor Baxter has been talking to your husband Dwayne. Both of them- actually all of us- would prefer that there was a different way to break down your wall."

"But you are the only one who has ever been able to do that," I said. My voice was slightly shaky. I don't know if it was fear or hope that was making it shake.

"Dwayne had an idea that none of us had thought of." Sheila said. "Sometimes someone outside the loop has fresh eyes and a fresh question."

"What was the question?" I asked, still lying across Ginny's lap.

"A simple question," answered Ginny, "actually two of them. The first was, 'Is there any way we can keep the wall from forming?'"

"And the second question," continued Sheila, "was 'Do we have to wait until it is fully-formed before we knock it down?'"

I looked up at Ginny, "You wanted to see if you could make me cry when the wall wasn't there."

Ginny smiled. "Close," she answered. "We wanted to see if Dwayne could make you cry when the wall wasn't there."

Sheila laughed and said, "But Dwayne isn't here. Ginny is. But, of course, Dwayne's hairbrush is here."

"So what are you suggesting?" I asked. I felt kind of silly still lying naked across Ginny's lap, but she was holding me in place so I just stayed there.

"Let's think of it as preventative maintenance," Ginny said, also laughing. "With proper regular preventive maintenance you might not need a tune up for a long, long time."

I gasped and struggled to stand up, but Ginny kept me pressed firmly into her lap. Dwayne had just stepped into the room. He sat down on the couch in front of Ginny and me.

"OK," Ginny said. "From this point on, I am your joint counselor. It is my professional recommendation to you both that Dwayne take care of preventative maintenance on a regular schedule."

"You," she said, patting my naked ass,"will have to decide how often this will be necessary. It will be your responsibility to give Dwayne the signal- and permission- to spank you and make you cry."

"You," she said, pointing to Dwayne, "will be responsible for seeing that the kids are taken care of. You can leave them at home with a babysitter and go to a hotel, or take them to their grandparents or whatever. You will then use this hairbrush until she is a sobbing mess."

She patted my ass once again, but continued looking at, and speaking to, Dwayne. "That is not the end of it," she continued. "While she is crying you must soothe her and stroke her and tell her you love her. Once she is cried out, she will begin to respond sexually to your stroking."

She caressed my ass and slipped her fingers slightly between my legs. I moaned softly.

"At that point," she said, "take her to bed and fuck her senseless."

I was a little surprised at her language, but I was surprised even more by the fact that I suddenly gushed and wet her lap.

"Do you agree to that?" she asked as she slapped me lightly on my asscheeks.

"Yes," I said as I nodded my head.

"Dwayne, do you agree to that?" she asked.

Dwayne answered, "Works for me."

Sheila then spoke. "Why don't you go back upstairs and dress," she said to me. "Ginny drove Dwayne up here, so he can drive you both home in your car."

As I stood up, Dwayne took me in his arms and kissed me. I pressed my lips against his and clung to him with my naked body rubbing against his clothes.

"The kids are at your mom's," he said softly. "We have the house to ourselves for the rest of the weekend." He took the leather hairbrush from Ginny and added, "I think we need to do a little experimenting on our own."

He could have fucked me or spanked me or done just about anything to me right there in that living room, but he just patted me on the ass and said, "Go on upstairs and get dressed."

We didn't say much to each other on the two-hour drive home. Actually, we didn't say much to each other once we got home. I left a trail of clothing from the front door, up the stairs to our bedroom. Dwayne followed me chuckling... and slapping the leather hairbrush slowly against his palm.

He did just as Ginny told him to do. He spanked me until I was sobbing uncontrollably. Actually I was crying from almost the first swat since my ass was already so tender, but he kept going until I totally lost control. Then he very gently stroked my back and my ass as I lay across his lap crying.

When I was cried out, his stroking started extending further down my legs and his fingers began slipping between my legs as his hands moved up toward my back. I slid off his lap and pulled myself into the middle of the bed.

Again, he did exactly what Ginny told him to do. He continued to stroke me until I was nearly at orgasm, then he fucked me senseless- literally. I think I passed out or had a fit or something as I orgasmed. I have never gone that high before in my life.

***

It's been almost three years since my last tune up with Sheila. Dwayne continues to give me preventative maintenance whenever I ask for it, which is usually every six or eight weeks. I still can't tell that my wall is rising, but I can sense a difference in how other people seem to be relating to me.

For instance, today my daughter came home from school with news that she had placed first in a science competition. I congratulated her and praised her for her effort, but I could see that she was disappointed that I wasn't happy for her.

I didn't realize I wasn't feeling happiness, but somehow I knew that she could tell that I wasn't happy. I knew it was time. Tonight, before I go to bed, I will put the sparkplug on the bathroom counter next to Dwayne's shaver. He will see it in the morning before he goes to work.

If my mom or his is willing to take the kids for the weekend it will happen this weekend. If not, it will happen as soon as that can be arranged. When the sparkplug is back on my small vanity, I know that everything is set for the coming weekend.

Saturday morning, I will use the depilatory cream, and Saturday night, I will present myself to him. He will use the hairbrush until I am sobbing. Then he will comfort me as I cry myself out. And finally he will fuck me senseless.

My therapist thinks this, too, is destructive behavior, but that's OK. I stopped seeing her two years ago. My wall isn't that much of a problem anymore.

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