Therapy Whore Story

While on my phone and I discovered that I was following a Life Coach and Counselor on social media. I did not recognize him but decided to reach out to him for help.

My first counseling appointment was scheduled to be in a suite in an extravagant hotel. He had explained that his office was being renovated and his clients would normally have their sessions at their home, but I was not about to invite him to my one bedroom apartment. I bought a tight black dress just for the first meeting, it was flattering on my body but not scandalous.

I arrived at the therapy session a few minutes late. Embarrassed, I knocked on the door. The Life Coach answered wearing cheap slacks, a cheap dress shirt, a clip on tie, and plastic dress shoes. "Welcome, welcome. I am Mr. Adams." he said, as he looked me up and down. "Hi, I am Lauren." I replied meekly.

I walked a few steps into the room, and he gestured for me to sit on the couch. He sat in a chair across from me, and grabbed his laptop. "Okay Lauren, let's begin with a few simple questions." He said not looking up. "Okay." I replied. I was already uncomfortable and we had not even started yet.

He looked up at me. "How old are you?" he asked. "I am 31," I said. He continued, "What is your orientation?" "Straight," I said."Alright. What is your relationship status?" He said. "Single" I replied. "Are you currently taking any form of birth control?'' He asked. "Um not currently, no." I said, unsure of the relevance of that question. He asked several more background questions, and I summarized my social life and past relationships for him.

"You mentioned sexual abuse, could you talk about that please?" He said. I rubbed my sweaty hands on the couch. "Ok, well. . .um, well my step father used to grab butt, my breasts and he would. . .um." I said feeling my heart race. The therapist looked intrigued "Please continue." he requested. "He would also force himself upon me. . ." I answered. I squeezed my hands together trying to comfort myself. "Have you ever told anyone else about this?" He asked. "No. I . . .I was scared." I said blushing.

"Walk me through it. What happened after the alleged abuse? How did it affect you?" He said. I looked out the window and then at my hands. " Alleged?? My Step Father moved away and I fell into a deep depression. . .I felt and still feel violated and betrayed. I hate him. Eventually, I tried to contact him and tell him how much I hate him, but I don't have any up to date information about him." I said.

He typed and said "Yes alleged. What did you wear while living with your step father? What did you do to communicate that you wanted him to stop?" He Then continued typing. "Uh, um I wore a bathrobe most of the time and was naked the rest of the time. I am not an exhibitionist, I just. . .I don't know. I did nothing to get him to stop because I was traumatised." I said.

He finished typing and closed his laptop. He made eye contact with me "And you blame him?" He asked, shaking his head. I sat up a little straighter and said, "Yes, I blame him. Nudity is not an invitation or consent. As my legal guardian it was his responsibility to take care of me, not to take advantage of me. I believe my resentment towards him is completely rational."

He lowered his head into his hand, "You really are broken and emotionally unstable. Nobody is going to love you as you are right now, you're lucky I am willing to put up with you." He stated, wiping his face with his hand. I didn't understand how he had come to those conclusions and did not know how to respond.

"You're too sensitive. What you experienced was hardly abuse. You're really petty to be so upset at your step father over some playful banter and some sex. Sex that was all your fault for dressing provocatively. This is exactly why nobody likes you." His tone grew more condescending as he spoke.

I looked at him confused. "It was my fault?" I asked. "I never said that." He lied. "But I just heard you say. . ." I said before he interrupted me. "I am not a liar." he said. "Yes sir." I said, a little scared.

He took a deep breath and sighed. I felt guilty for frustrating him, he seemed like he genuinely was trying to help. He took a sip of water and placed the bottle back on the floor by his chair, then reopened his laptop. "Let's continue, how often do you consume alcohol?" He asked. "I usually have a glass or two of wine at night. I don't get drunk except on special occasions."

"You drink to numb the shame you feel from seducing your Step Father." He said not to me but to his laptop. "What? I did not say that. I also did not seduce him!" I said forcefully and offended. He glanced up at me while typing and said, "Don't lie to me and more importantly stop lying to yourself." I was flustered and confused. "Why does he not believe me? Have I really been lying to myself?" I thought. "Maybe I. . .I did tease him, just once or twice, I don't remember doing so, but maybe I did." I confessed. I felt obligated to admit some level of guilt now that I was so unsure of what really happened.

He nodded. "So you're an exhibitionist?" he asked. "No, I don't enjoy people seeing me naked. I just don't care if people see me naked." I said. He looked sceptical and then he typed something on his laptop. "If you are not an exhibitionist, then why else would you be nude in front of your step father? Normal people don't casually coexist naked together." He spoke like he was in front of a jury. "I. . ." He cut me off once I spoke "It was because you were trying to seduce him. You don't have to hide things from me Lauren. Admit to me that you were trying to seduce him." He ordered.

"No. I am not an exhibitionist and I did not seduce my stepfather. I truly don't care about modesty. Sir, I promise, it is not a secret perversion of mine to flaunt my body in front of people." I said. He looked disappointed. "So you're telling me that you don't mind being naked in front of other people and that you are naked routinely during the day?"

"Yes sir, I am." I said. He made it sound like it was shameful, I had never thought it was that big of a deal. He looked more irritated now. "Ok. If you care so little about it then why don't you strip right now?" He said facetiously. "You know what? I will." I said. I stood and started removing my dress. "Lauren stop, it was sarcasm." He said, leaning forward. I let my dress fall to the floor around my feet. "Lauren seriously get dressed. . ." I ignored him and removed my bra and panties. I turned and wiped off my seat with my hand and sat, placing my right leg over my left. "Point proven." I said smugly.

His eyes rapidly shifted to the floor, then back at me, then to his laptop. He looked flushed, but maintained a professional tone. "I am going to recommend you for conservatorship and request that a court finds you a conservator. It is in my professional opinion that you are not competent to handle your own affairs." He spoke as he typed, as if he was dictating to himself.

"Wait, what? What is a cons-conserv.. . .whatever?" I asked, slowly reaching for my clothes. "Conservatorship. It is where an adult, in this case you, are assigned a legal guardian. Your caretaker will handle adult matters that you are not capable of taking care of yourself. You will be under somebody else's legal control, like you are still a child. " He explained closing his laptop and standing up.

I began to feel anxiety build in my gut. "I don't understand. I am not stupid." I said as I finished getting dressed. He rubbed the back of his neck and said "No. . .you are not stupid. You just lack emotional maturity and have. . .below average cognitive ability. You just need some extra help." He glanced at the door awkwardly as he spoke.

I sat heavily back onto the couch. I gazed out the window confused and scared. He sat next to me. My mind raced as I struggled to grasp some understanding of what that would be like as my future. "Don't worry, I will still be appointed to you, and I will help you through this." He said endearingly. I felt vulnerable, and isolated from everything that I had thought I had known about myself and the world. I hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly slid a hand down my back. I felt his hand stop and rest on my butt, but I was too deep into contemplating my life to react. We released from the hug and made eye contact.

He quickly leaned in and kissed me on the lips. "Umm?" I said, I was surprised by the kiss and shocked that he thought that I would be open to his advances. I planted my feet to get up, seeing this, he put his hand on my thigh. " Let me help you." He pleaded. The same desperation filled his eyes, that fills the eyes of all insecure men attempting to weasel their way into bed with a woman. I pushed his hand off my thigh. "How are you going to help me?" I asked annoyed.

He angled himself towards me and ran his fingers down my cheek, turning my head to face him. "If you cooperate with me, I may be able to convince the court to let you choose your own caretaker." Once he finished speaking he kissed me again. I turned away from him as soon as his lips touched mine. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay and do some therapeutic tests for me." His hand was again placed on my leg and he began to gently massage my thigh. I pulled my leg away from him flustered, "Alright, alright I will." I said.

I stood up abruptly, holding the bottom of my dress to ensure it remained in place. I stepped to get away from him and lost my footing. I fell forward, I reached out my hands to brace myself, it was too late. Suddenly my face smashed into the arm of his chair.

My nose throbbed in pain, tears blurred my vision as they started to descend my cheeks, individual drops of blood flowed down from my nose, to my chin, and dripped onto the floor. I held my face with one hand and tried to get up.

The Counselor had risen and now stood over me. He reached to help me up, cupping one of my breasts with a hand and grabbing my arm with the other. "You ok?" He asked. He pulled me up and against his body. I felt his bulge press into my butt. " I think I broke my nose." He fondled my breast and his hand ran over my body. Blood ran over my hand as I attempted to contain the bleeding. I swiped at his exploring hands, releasing myself from his embrace.

He watched me expressionless with carnal desire glowing in his eyes. "Shoot, it's getting on my dress." I said. Blood continued to drip on my dress as I removed it. " You don't want any blood on your underwear either," Without permission, he pulled my panties down to my ankles. "Ugh. . . ok pervert at least hand me those so I can stop the bleeding."

He handed me the panties and stepped towards me. I walked toward the bed with his arm lightly pushing me in that direction. The thin fabric of the underwear was sufficient to contain the bleeding, which made me happy because I didn't want to bleed on the furniture.

Once we were at the foot of the bed he pushed me against it bending me over. I squealed and looked back at him, "Do you think you are just going to fuck me now?" I asked. He started undoing his pants, "Do you want me to get you a caretaker?" I looked forward and kept holding the cloth to my face. "This pig! I guess I will have sex with him, so he doesn't force me to live with a permanent babysitter." I thought.

Admiring the headboard and decorative pillow arrangement, I responded "Fine, but don't forget to pull out." I prepared myself with my fingers and felt an uncomfortable wave of disgust wash over my body.

Seconds passed and I didn't feel anything. "Are you going to put it in?" I asked. Silence. I looked over my shoulder at him. He was struggling to get an erection. "Oh my how embarrassing." I mocked. He muttered something to himself and finally managed to get it hard.

As he inserted himself, the extremely unromantic and nontherapeutic nature of the sex faded from importance. I instinctively moaned as he began thrusting. "God that feels good." I said to myself. He began to thrust harder, "I knew that you were nothing but a whore." He said. I pushed back against his hips as rhythmically as I could. I threw the blood stained panties to the side and gripped the comforter.

"Let's climb onto the bed." I suggested. "Don't move." he said holding onto my hips. "You feel so damn good for a dumb slut." He said, nearing climax. I could hear the anticipation in his voice, "Pull out...Pull out." I said, he continued fucking me. "God I am gonna fill you up. You nasty bitch!" He moaned, starting to cum inside me. "PULL OUT! PULL OUT! DAMN IT! PULL OUT!" I shouted. He held tight to my butt as he finished shooting his cum into me.

I started feeling sick. He awkwardly took a step back. I turned around "I am not on the pill you bastard!" I said. He pulled his pants up without saying anything and started to collect my clothes. He set the dress and panties on the bed next to me. They sat, slowly unfolding, like some unnatural blossoming. He took his clip on tie off and checked his phone. I sat glaring at him with my arms folded. "You owe me $276 and an extra 75 for an extended session." He said indifferently.

"You are just a jerk! A nasty jerk!" I said getting dressed, then grabbing my purse. He attached a device to his phone and swiped my card, "Would you like to leave a tip?" He asked. "No." I muttered. He handed me my card and said "I'll schedule you an appointment for next week." I couldn't believe my ears. "What? Are you kidding me?" I was flabbergasted. He glanced at me, reminding me that the alternative was an adult babysitter. "Oh right." I said.

I attended therapy with Mr. Adams every week for months. After the first month, all pretense was dropped and I was whoring myself out to him for my freedom. My belly grew, as my nose healed, over the weeks of appointments. When I entered my third trimester, the Counselor disappeared. I called him close to a hundred times, I searched for him on social media and on the internet, I even went to the police in order to find him. I never did. I gave birth to his child, alone and on my birthday.

. .