least you can do is play along. So, do you understand?”
Dr. Monroe swallows hard enough for me to hear and see her throat move.
“Okay,” she replies. “I understand.”
I don't leave my seat, but in my head, I’ve gotten up and walked over to Dr. Monroe.
“You see? You’ve already broken the rules, but since you're new, I’ll give you this one pass. It’s in your best interest to remember how this works. You are not in control. You don't get to change the regulations to make yourself more comfortable. I told you your response will be yes sir. If you answer with more than that, it’s a breach of the rules, and breaching the rules requires punishment. I take punishment very seriously … Evelyn.”
Dr. Monroe shifts in her seat. The movement starts in her hips and works its way down to her legs, where she places her feet flat on the floor before gripping the arm rests on her chair.
“Now, do you understand the rules?” I ask again.
Dr. Monroe blinks as if she just got an eyelash stuck in her eye before answering, “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” I reply, and she bites her lip. “You wanted to know what I’d do, so I’ll tell you. First, I’d walk over to you while you sit in your comfortable chair, and I’d massage your neck. I’d let my hands play in the hair you worked so hard on this morning, before wrapping it around my hand and pulling your head back so you're looking up at me. With one hand wrapped in your hair, and one softly squeezing your throat, I’d lean over and kiss you, pushing my tongue into your mouth and forcing you to suck it. You'd find you enjoy it much more than you thought you would, and that’d be the first of many things you’d realize you enjoy more than you ever imagined.”
While I talk, Dr. Monroe doesn't move an inch, but I can see her hanging on my every word. The interesting part is I’m not sure she’s listening intently because she’s using my words to formulate a plan for my therapy, or because she’s intrigued more than she should be.
“After we kiss,” I go on. “I’d walk to your front, inspecting your body as I go, and forcing you to stay still and maintain eye contact with me. While you watch me, I’d pull off my shirt, showing you the body you want to touch. I wouldn't say anything, but I’d allow you to imagine what it would feel like to run your fingers over my skin, and to kiss your way down my chest until you reach the bottom of my stomach.
“Next, I’d grab those scissors off your desk and cut the straps on your dress, just before cutting a slit up the middle that starts between your knees and runs its way up to your navel. I’d stop there so I could tear it the rest of the way with my bare hands.
“After you're out of the dress, I’d pull the shoestrings out of my shoes, and use them to bind you to the chair, wrapping one string around each of your wrists and the arm rest so you can’t move your hands. Once you’re bound, I’d kneel in front of you and force your legs apart.”
Dr. Monroe shifts in her seat again, still biting her lip. Now I have the answer to my question. She's not looking at me as a patient anymore. She wants more, and I intend to pull at that thread until it detaches and she can no longer hold herself together.
“While kneeling in front of your bare pussy, I’d ask if you want me to taste you.” Dr. Monroe shivers like a draft has just swept through the room. “Is that what you want, Evelyn? Do you want me to taste you? Do you want my head between your legs?”
“Umm,” Dr. Monroe mutters, trying her best not to let herself become immersed in the game, but she can't help it.
“Tell me,” I push. “Do you want me to taste you? Do you want my tongue on your clit?”
Dr. Monroe bites her lip, fighting with all the will she has left.
“Say it, Evelyn,” I continue. “You wanted to know what it’s like. This is what it’s like. I know what you want, but I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you admit it to me. Do you want me to taste you? Do you want my tongue gliding