Therapist Pt. 01

Ten minutes before her therapist was scheduled to arrive, Liz was busy preparing herself – in the bathroom. She had her makeup all laid out and was trying on different shades of lip-gloss, finally deciding to put on only a bit of eyeliner, at the very corners of her large doe-like eyes. I don't know why I'm doing this, she thought. I'm not supposed to be making myself pretty for this guy. I'm not supposed to be attracted to him. Geez, he's like at least 10 years older than me!! Liz stuffed all her makeup angrily into the cupboard on the wall, and glared at herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she walked out just in time to get the door.

As soon as the door opened, and he was standing there, her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted slightly. He was gorgeous. His clothing, so sophisticated, so professional, and his hair, black like onyx, parted on the side, with wisps hanging down. His lips were set in a slight smirk, and his eyes traveled over her slowly, stopping for a moment at her full, reddened mouth.

So, she's put on makeup. Well well well. What will be next? A transparent shirt? No. I highly doubt that. His smile grew wider as he walked past her into the large living room.

"Where's your mother?" He asked, looking around.

"Oh, she left a bit early. She had something to do at work..." Liz replied quickly.

"Hmmm." Vlad settled himself on the couch, his legs stretched out.

"So, let's get started," he beckoned to her with his finger.

She stood still for a moment, this motion of his making her shiver with something she couldn't even comprehend. It was electrifying. She looked at him again, and moved towards the sofa that was standing opposite the couch upon which he was seated.

"Come on Liz, why sit so far away? Here, we can fit on one couch" Vlad motioned for her to sit next to him.

Fit on one couch? Is he crazy? I can't sit next to him without looking like a crushed tomato the whole time.

She looked at him apprehensively, then decided, ah the hell with it, why not!? Taking the large pillow off of the corner of the couch, she snuggled herself into this corner and hugged the pillow firmly to herself.

Vlad turned to face her and saw her sheltered position as she clutched the pillow to her chest, her knees bent, her face showing the anxious expression of defense a young innocent girl such as herself may have when confronted with a grown, virile man.

"Why the pillow? Are you afraid of me?" he smirked.

Liz sat, motionless, breath suspended.

"Are you afraid that I'll touch you?" Vlad asked, draping his arm lazily on the back of the sofa.

Her fingers tightened on the corners of the pillow. Eyes wide in shock, she did not speak. How could he ask such a question?

"Are you afraid of being touched, Liz?"

Oh how deliciously she squirmed in that corner of hers, he thought.

Why is he asking me these terrible questions??? Liz flushed bright as an apple and lowered her wide eyes.

"No, no, I'm not afraid... Why, why are you asking me this?" she burst out, stammering, her arms tightening their hold on the pillow.

"Well, I was just wondering that if this was the case, perhaps it's also the reason why you have no boyfriend," came the silky response.

Liz stared, confused to the max.

"I mean, that most guys like to touch their girls, and if they see that a girl doesn't like it, they usually will stay away, unless they're rather headstrong and dominant" Vlad continued to explain calmly.

"Well, that makes sense," Liz said shakily.

"So is that it? You just can't stand to be touched? Do you ever masturbate, Liz?" Vlad probed deftly.

Liz stiffened at the last question. This was beginning to be too much. She made to get up, but he was faster. In one move, he had pinned her legs down and grasped her tiny wrists in one large palm.

She shrieked, but he silenced her with his free hand. Her mind was on overload – she was supposed to be having a nice conversation with her therapist, but now he was sitting on top of her, restraining her and cutting off her power to scream. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she couldn't stop them – they kept coming and coming as her head shook back and forth, trying to dislodge his hand.

Leaning close to her ear, Vlad pressed her frantic head into the softness of the couch, and, still holding her mouth closed with his hand, whispered softly, "The more you struggle the worse it will be for you. Surely you must know that."

No, NO, pleasee, NOO!!! These frantic screams echoed in her head, screams that no one else but she herself could hear. That's it, she thought. He was going to rape her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Then there was a click. But he must have heard it before her, as she was too busy trying to free herself from his unbreakable grasp.

At the sound of this faint click, Vlad's eyes darted toward the front door, where obviously someone was standing and inserting a key into the key hole. As a result, his grip on Liz tightened to the impossible, making her movements virtually nonexistent. Only soft whimpers came from her throat, as he kept her quiet while he listened to the sounds coming from the door.

"Shh!" he demanded harshly, pushing her head even further into the couch.

"Get up quickly, dry your face, and stop crying, for God's sake. Your mother's here for some goddamn reason, and you had better not let anything slip, unless you want the IRS to know about her failure to pay certain taxes for the past few years."

Liz couldn't believe what he was talking about. This can't be possible, she thought, and tried even harder to twist away from his grip.

At her frantic attempts to escape, Vlad lost all patience and gripped her throat, squeezing lightly. Her mouth was covered by his large hand, and all she could do was take tiny breaths through her nose, and with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, wonder whether she would die from suffocation in her own house at the hands of this monster.

Her eyes sprang open in pain as she felt the prick of something extremely sharp against her breast. Vlad's malevolent face was right above her tearstained one, and he whispered gruffly, "Do what I say, and don't fuck with me, or you will get hurt in more ways than one, alright little girl?"

He waited a few moments until he could feel her nodding under the pressure of his heavy hand, and only then did he lift his hand from her swollen lips.

He allowed her to get up, and after wiping her face with a moist Kleenex, she slowly opened the door for her mother, who was having trouble with the keys.

Ms. Reynolds rushed past her flushed daughter, completely overlooking her terrified appearance, and, excusing herself for disturbing their session, she ran into the bathroom. In a minute, she was walking briskly back through the open front door, chirping cheerfully at her dazed-looking daughter:

"I'm so sorry to have troubled you guys, but I thought I left my earrings by the sink. Turns out I did!! Well, how is everything going?"

By that time Vlad had come to stand behind Liz, and at that he hugged her from behind, pulling her into his chest in a playful way as he said calmly, "Oh, everything's just fine, Ms. Reynolds. Your daughter is a very special girl; very intelligent."

"Oh, well, thank you Mr. Parfentev," Liz's mother began.

"Mom – ," Liz's voice sounded like that of a weak swallow in the wintertime.

"Well, have a good day at work today, Ms. Reynolds. Don't you worry about us – we're getting along just fine." Vlad interjected quickly, tightening his arms about his victim.

"Oh, well, in that case, you kids play nice, and I'll be back as usual. Well, actually, a bit later than usual, since we've got a meeting with another company. See you soon, honey. And don't forget to thank Mr. Parfentev when he leaves, ok?"

And with that she was gone. Gone just as quickly and unexpectedly as she came. Liz's hopes for a miracle dissipated like sand in the wind.

Not waiting another second, Liz tensed and rammed her elbow into Vlad's stomach, and as soon as he released her from his hug, Liz started running up the stairs in huge jumps and threw herself into the first room she came upon, locking the door quickly.

Vlad had released her out of pure surprise – he never expected that she would even try to physically oppose him.

As soon as he got over this small shock, Vlad slowly mounted the steps, arriving on the second floor of the large house.

Let's see, which room could she possibly be in. Obviously, the one nearest to the stairs, and the one that would be locked.

Alright then, let's check the first door. Locked, just as he'd assumed it would be.

The window wouldn't budge. Liz frantically tugged at the handle of the large, two pane windows that led out onto the roof. If only she could get them open!

Vlad reached out for the knob, and just as he had known, it was locked. He only tried it once. He knew she was in there, and he had the key. There was ample time to execute his well-thought out plan, and he was in no rush.

When she heard the doorknob rattle impatiently, her furious tugging turned into hysterical yanking. Liz was panting hard, her mind in a whirlwind of frenzy and fear. If he got to her, if she didn't escape, he would rape her. He would throw her down, hit her, beat her, and violate her. Rape. The word rang through her head, and at the thought she subconsciously let out a small sob. She was beginning to tire, and the window showed no signs of budging.

That's it, she thought. I'm done for. The fucker's going to get me. And there's nothing I can do about it. She almost resigned herself to her presumed fate, stepping bravely towards the bed in the center of the room, when she saw the door open.

There he was. Vlad stepped in slowly, cautiously surveying the room before him. He didn't want her throwing any sharp or heavy objects his way, and he prepared himself for that. But as none came, he fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. Then he saw her, standing near the window, stiff and disheveled, her soft billowing hair pulled out of its tight clasp, her cheeks reddened with exertion, as well as with fear. He stepped forward, taking one long stride, his dark eyes fixed on her wide ones.

Shivers ran down her back, and she trembled uncontrollably as the distance between them decreased. But she made herself stand straight, her hands clenched into fists, and her voice tight as a drum, she said:

"Get the hell out of my house, or I'll call the police, and you'll be arrested"

Vlad smiled. It was a smile that encompassed everything that he felt for her – burning desire, heartfelt pity, subtly concealed kindness, and playful superiority – his grin was all that and more – a grin that made her know that he was going to get her, and nothing she could do would stop him. This smile chilled her to the bone.

"Why should I leave," his voice was silky soft, "when I have done nothing to harm you, darling?"

"Wh- what? Y- yes you did! You pinned me to the couch, you threatened my mother and I, what are you talking about?"

Liz was furious. How could this fucker deny what he did?

"What I am talking about? What are you talking about, sweetheart? Have I hurt you? Have I? No... I don't think I have..."

She was about to speak, when he cut her off.

"Besides, what do you think I was going to do to you? Hmmm?"

His voice a mere whisper, quietly amused, mocking her fear.

Vlad locked his gaze on her, daring her to say the very thing that was going to be the true catalyst for their future relationship.

Liz couldn't believe what was happening to her. He wants me to tell him that he is going to rape me. I mean, isn't it obvious? Why put me through this extra torture?

Liz couldn't breathe. She couldn't say the words. The words that she knew he wanted her to say. Rape. To rape you. Violation. Ripping. Tearing. Crushing. Destroying. Deflowering her. Brutally.

Her breath came in gasps as she stared incredulously at her therapist, her mouth slightly open, her eyes glazed in tears. Why is he being so patient? Why is he just standing there, staring at me with that soft, placid expression on his face? She wanted to scream, yell, kick – anything but silence. Anything.

Silence. Yet again.

"I thought" – a sob escaped her. Try again, Liz.

"You thought..." His smirk was killing her.

"that – that you'd... that you want to" – another sob.

"that I'd want to what?" his voice a dangerously soft whisper.

"that you wanted to... you wanted me to.... that you wanted to rape me"

There, it was over. She said it.

Silence.

She couldn't look up at him, and finally her fear got the best of her and the tears came rushing down in hot rivulets down her flushed cheeks. She sobbed quietly, trying to restrain herself, but failing. Her shoulders shook slightly, her head bowed down as she covered her face with her hands, trying to hide from his all-consuming gaze.

Waiting. He was waiting for her to calm down, for her to look at him. But finally, she had said it. What a brave girl. What a sweet, brave girl. He would have to be careful, gentle with this one. She was so innocent. So naïve. And so confused.

But GOD, what an intense rush he felt when scaring her, when feeling her tremble beneath his gaze, beneath his weight when he held her down on the sofa. It was an animalistic rush of pleasure that overcame him when he caused her fear, when he sensed it, looking into her wide eyes, feeling her tears on his hand. And nothing could compare – not even several hits of the best hallucinogen could produce such a powerful high as was produced by terrorizing this beautiful girl. Not even sex with the most attractive of women – of which he'd had plenty – had made him feel so strong, so powerful, so alive.

Watching her cry like this did arouse in him a subdued twinge of sympathy – somewhere, very deep down, perhaps even in his subconscious, there was something that reached out to this girl, something that did not want to frighten her. But these feelings were very deeply suppressed.

He needed to feel her fear, her helplessness, in order to please himself, but this was not his main purpose. Unless he used force, there was no other way to teach her, to bring her out of this state of childhood and sexual naiveté. And judging from the way she behaved around men, it would be safe to say that no man, acting through more or less honorable terms, would be able to get even 10 feet close to her.

Therefore, it had to be like this. And he was not in denial: he knew it was wrong. He knew that his actions were in no way decent or even legal – he could go to jail for this if it was reported and proven. But it won't be. And he also knew why he was safe: the beauty of blackmail.

See, his story was not complicated. He was a tax investigator, a creditor, for the IRS. On a usual, monotonous Monday morning at work, he was perusing through a pile of tax evader files when something caught his eye. It was a file, with a picture of a woman on it who had apparently failed to pay 900,000 dollars worth of private property taxes. A pretty large sum of money, he thought. Well, this certainly needs to be checked out. So, he looked through her file, examined her credit history, her tax history, and stumbled on a picture of her daughter, which was attached as part of her file.

From the very first glance, he was beguiled by this photo. Her features so delicate, her eyes so soft, her mouth so delicious – he had to meet her. He had to be close to her. And he had to have her. So he hid her file, stole it, erased all evidence from the network, and began his investigation. He found their address, and followed the girl from home to school. Every day, for two weeks, he would inconspicuously observe her interactions with the world around her, and thereby formed his plan. She was painfully shy around boys, and generally did not hang out with any. None of those boys had the courage to come up to her, first of all because she was so shy, and second of all because they were intimidated by her beauty and the prospect of rejection.

She was all alone, living in this great big house with her mother, a thief, and he finally saw his plan clearly outlined in his mind: through blackmail, combined with some aspects of force and fear, he would have her, and he would succeed in bringing her out of her childlike shell.

So there they stood, the predator and the prey; one shivering with fear and anxiety, while the other shivering with anticipation.

Her sobs became less frequent, until she was merely sniffling loudly. Slowly, her head rose and her eyes wavered up to his – yes, he thought, look at me, my darling. And I'll tell you what I was really planning to do.

"Now why would you think that I would rape you?"

His words came out soft and steady, as though he were speaking to a frightened child.

"Well, be- because, you, you held me down and, and you threatened me, and you followed me up here, and..." Liz didn't know what else he wanted her to say.

"Are you truly so arrogant as to think that everyone wants you, just like that? Just because I held you down and blackmailed you? I knew you were arrogant, but I didn't know to what extent! The more logical conclusion would be that I want money – from your mother! Isn't that more logical than rape? Think about it."

Oh, to torture her like this – it was great.

Liz was rooted to the spot. She turned a fiery red, and lowered her eyes. He's right. I am an idiot. He doesn't want me, not even to rape me. Nobody wants me, so why should this case be any different. Of course I don't want to be raped, but... He still could have wanted me that much, right? But he doesn't. And I'm stupid to think so, and now he has completely embarrassed me. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I that desperate? Am I living in total fantasy land? He wants money! He wants to blackmail me and my mom for money! He doesn't want me! Her world was spinning before her eyes, and she looked up at him, bewildered.

"The whole money concept – not as interesting as the one previously mentioned, is it, Liz?"

"What do you mean?"

At this he chuckled.

"I'm glad that you're more arrogant than I thought you were. It makes it a bit easier for me, if you know what I mean."

She didn't like his tone. It had turned nastier, haughtier, as if he knew something she didn't.

"What are you saying?" Her voice wobbled slightly.

"I'm saying that if rape is more exciting to you, I can certainly oblige. Would you like that? I bet you would..."

Her surprised gasp excited him, and that nasty, arrogant smirk of his formed on his lips as he gauged her reaction.

"And you're completely right, Liz. You've done well in trusting your instincts."

He made his gaze more malevolent than ever, and took one step towards her, gloating over his impending victory.

At this, Liz reeled, her heart pounding at an abnormal rate, her mouth completely dry. Either all of this was a very bad joke, or she was in very big trouble. In any case, she had to find a way out. After all of his tricks, there was no way that she would let him have her. And she was prepared to fight. She had taken karate outside of school, and she wasn't a bad brown belt. She could impair him in order to have the time to get away and call the police. It would be difficult – he was at least a head and a half taller than her, and much broader as well, but she would aim for the part of him that generated the most amount of pain when hit.

Vlad commenced his assault. With every slow step he took towards her, she backed a step away, going further and further towards the wall.

"Don't worry about it, Liz," he made as if to reassure her. "It won't hurt a bit. Not if you come willingly that is – well, even if you do come willingly, there is some pain that you would have to endure, for they say that I am quite well endowed. But I'm sure that with a little coaxing, a little foreplay, we'll have no problem with fitting my fairly large member into your tight little snatch. Stretch it out a bit, with my fingers at first. Make it wet enough for me to slide right in, ever so slowly, ever so gently, so that none of your precious tears will be wasted on that worthless piece of skin that is just 3 inches up your sweet channel. I promise you, darling, you won't feel a thing. Not even when my cock breaks through your fortress, because you will be completely distracted by my mouth on your sweet little breasts, playing with them, nipping softly, sucking them deep into the warm depths of my mouth and laving them with my tongue. I've done this before, Liz, many times. Enough to know how to seduce, how to please, how to make a woman moan like she never has before in her life – enough to know how to make her cum so thoroughly, that she'll drench the bed sheets through and through – enough to make her pussy always welcome my cock, and grip it with such intensity as though it wants to keep it inside forever."