The couple enter the red sandstone building in the west end of town and at the far end of the art deco lobby press the call button for the antique elevator.
As David holds her hand Sally goes through the previous week’s ‘homework’ exercises in her mind again. Yes, she’s done everything as instructed this last week. The mindfulness exercises are getting easier every day.
The third floor corridor they walk along appears have retained its original 30s décor. Wall mounted Tiffany wall uplighters illuminate the white ceiling on alternate sides every 20 feet, above a run of glazed floral features and patinad shoulder-height emerald tiles. Opposite each light stands a heavily varnished dark wood door punctuated with thick glass panels.
They stop at a door bearing two brass numbers above a heavy knocker. It would be rude not to make use of it.
A husky Scottish voice bids you “come on in hon’, the door’s open!”
As the door opens they are greeted from across the room by the big crimson smile of Dr Agatha. It belongs to a heavily made-up woman in her 50s who in contrast to the ‘hippy’ cardigan stereo-type of psychologists appears to have lost her fashion sense in late 80s goth. This extends from the tips of her short bleached hair to the black laquoured toenails peeking through her worse-for-wear fishnets. Luckily velvet still suits her, and her curves. From her previous visits Sally knows the good doctor favours these retro ‘gowns’ in a rainbow selection of that fabric. Today’s dress is a bottle green. A pair of embroidered high-lacing DMs lie discarded on the floor in front of her as she reclines on one of the two large dark velvet sofa’s that take up most of the room.
As before the room is dimly lit. Dark fabric drapes the walls of the high ceilinged room. Sally speculates that it is more of a lair than an office. The thought makes her smile for some reason. Encouraged, Dr Agatha unfolds herself elegantly from the sofa and, ignoring her boots on the floor, floats towards Sally in her stocking soles with bangled arms outstretched.
As before the doctor’s deeply cut cleavage accommodates an excess of pendant bourn silver paraphernalia. The silver symbols’ movement with her large chest is slightly distracting, perhaps alluring, but the warm softness feels lovely as Dr Agatha embraces her. The jangle of silver bangles closing around her and pulling her tight into the warmth of that large chest.
Releasing her Agatha asks “how have you been Sally?”
Sally confirms her progress with the practice set by Dr Agatha.
“Ooo, this must be David…” Agatha surprises him with an enthusiastic embrace, though Sally notes he isn’t objecting to the press of Dr Agatha’s generous boobs. Something he acknowledges with a raised eyebrow over the doctor’s shoulder. “…lovely, lets get started!”
“Have a seat,” Dr Agatha indicates the other sofa. The couple make themselves comfortable as Dr Agatha folds herself onto her favoured location on the other couch.
“As you know Sally, we’ve been working on the first stage of your treatment to address your… discomfort with dental treatments. We’ll practice those breathing exercises and then if you’re comfortable move to the next stage of the therapy.”
“We’ve begin with simple diaphragmatic breathing exercises to give you a platform to address your discomfort. As we talked about, the combination of the deep breathing and counting within the breaths moves focus to the upper brain, and disengages from that unhelpful ‘fear response’ generated by the lower animal brain – the amygdala. The practice you’ve been doing makes it easier to use this tool when you need to use it.” Agatha pausing for and receiving acknowledgement from Sally before continuing.
“Once we’ve practiced the breathing exercise, and if I feel you’ve made enough progress, I feel you’re ready to move on to the second stage. That’s why I asked you to bring David along tonight. With this part of the treatment we are going to provide your lower animal brain with some alternate associations, to cloud the unhelpful automatic response. I like to call it ‘Amygdala distraction’. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Introduction to the night delivered, Agatha smiles at the couple.
Sally can only smile back.
“If you’re comfortable with it, as we discussed, I would like David to observe the next stage. In that way he can help if needed. And he then knows how to help you in future. Is that still ok?”
Exchanging a glance with David, Sally agrees.
“Good. David, would you be a sweetie, go next door and make yourself comfortable with the other two whilst Sally and I run through some of our breathing exercises.” Agatha points towards the door and David glances at Sally with a smile before following his instructions.
“Now Sally, get yourself comfortable. As we did before, I want you to close your eyes and try to clear your mind.” A slow ambient beat begins to fill the room. Sally closes her eyes, places her hand on her stomach and begins taking long, slow, deep breaths; feeling the rise and fall of her breath. Feeling it slowing. Aware the ambient music is slowing around her.
“Now, I want you to count to four with each in breath. Count to four with each out-breath.”
“Breathe in calm. Breathe out your dis-ease.”
“Let go of your counting. Thoughts will come and go. Let them. Just examine them as they flow past. Like leaves flowing past on the surface of a stream. Observe them. Let them flow past.”
Sally feels the calm of her meditation envelop and fill her.
Breathing. Being still. Being here; completely in the now.
“Now let your breathing return to normal,” Sally realising how slow and peaceful her breathing had become.
“I think you’re ready now dearie,” Agatha takes Sally’s hand and leads her towards the other room.
The room is dimly lit and still holding Sally’s hand Agatha pauses just beyond the door. She inhales the incense with a hint of cleansing antiseptic. As Sally’s eyes adjust she notes that there are two other people in the room aside from her lover sitting smiling in a high-backed chair. Her Master sits in a throne? Then realising that the rest of the room has a slightly surreal air… Has she walked into a fetish dungeon?
To his left stands a blonde woman in an tailored tweed jacket, impeccably cut to emphasise the beautiful curves of her body. The open jacket and unbuttoned red silk blouse revealing an alluring glimpse of her full breasts. Sally’s eyes are drawn down her skin-tight riding jodhpurs to polished tan riding boots. The nonchalance, the crop. She also wears heavy framed rainbow glasses and a mischievous scarlet smile. Memories of what had happened at that after-party in Mayfair last summer flood back for Sally, not only through her mind but through the light material of her undergarments. Will there be more ‘horsey-set mischief’ tonight?
Sally’s eyes swing to her husband’s right. Seated quietly in a similar high backed chair is a slim brunette woman with an intriguing smile. The waves of her curled hair flow down past her shoulders, drawing Sally’s eyes down to her lovely figure and fabulously shaped breasts. This all obvious as she wears very little, really just a nod to clothing but not her decency, all in black. A tight leather harness that leaves nothing to Sally’s imagination, emphasising the lovely curves of the brunette’s stomach, beautiful areola and nipples. Again, her heeled boots appear to have been selected for style over mobility. Though this point seems moot as her wrists are bound with silky rope to the arms of her wooden throne, her short black nails gripping like talons around the ends of each armrest. As Sally’s gaze returns to the brunette’s face she realises she’s gazing at Agatha with an unquenched need.
“Louise will be assisting me tonight,” Agatha waves towards her tweed assistant, “and Geena has been naughty, so we’ve kept her behind for a little… extra therapy…”
“Louise will you secure Sally.” Not a question. Louise takes Sally’s hand in her leather clad grip and leads her towards a large object Sally hadn’t yet had time to take in. A large green dental chair with long black wipe-clean seat and arm-rests. Sally engages her breathing exercise. She notices that this one has some additions to the model she recalls. The arm and leg rests are fitted with cuffs that can only be restraints. She feels a slight tingle of excitement and glances over at David to see his grin.
‘Riding mischief’ leads her over to the chair, and pointing towards a three panel green privacy-screen, sternly instructs her to “change into this this.”
Sally takes the offered cobalt blu garment and glancing to David for approval heads behind the screen. It’s only when she’s behind it that she realises it’s too small to offer any real privacy, and what she’s likely to be doing is putting on a peep-show for the room’s other occupants. But again, a glance towards David reassures her. What the heck, in for a penny, and if this is Agatha’s idea… and what harm can come of it?
A second glance at the garment in her hand suggests if not harm, then perhaps mischief might be the outcome. It’s made of a sheer fabric… ok, I’m up to whatever that mad Agatha throws at me – that crazy woman is not going to get the better of Sally!
Slipping out of her clothes barely concealed by the screen, Sally is conscious of the eyes on her. Strangely, she feels a strange excitement at being so exposed, being watched; or was it that she was so willing to expose herself?
David softly encourages her. “You’ve made it this far Sally, keep going…”
When Sally reappears Dr Agatha has also changed, or at least slipped out of her long dress, and is lying out on the chair in what looks like tightly buckled and slightly restrictive black underwear. The buckles and slick fabric reflecting flickering light. Sally realises the fishnets are stockings, topped with soft pale thighs and an immodestly small G-string – fuck – I can just make out her pussy through it! And she’s added a pair of fuck-off patent stiletto heels.
Catching Sally’s gaze, Agatha announces “I want you to lie back on the chair as I’m doing Sally,” as she rises predatively from the chair. Sally feels her breath quicken. There is no question of disobeying Agatha.
With a submissive trepidation Sally slides herself onto the black vinyl seat and lays back into the surface warmed by its previous occupant. Sally closes her eyes and breathes in the heady scent of the room, absorbing for the first time the heady perfume of sex that mingles with the antiseptic and incense.
Agatha’s voice seeping into her, “Sally, I want you to keep your eyes closed and relax…”
Unwilling, or unable to open her eyes to acknowledge what is happening, Sally feels her wrists taken and enclosed. Cold heavy fabric being tightened and buckled around each. A hand traing down her ft leg towards her feet. Eyes still closed, a firm hand lifting her ankle.
“Good girl Sally,” Agatha continues pleasantly but with more of a firmness. “We’re going to practice your diaphragmatic breathing again. Breathe with me – in and out. Fill your lungs slowly and deeply – and out…” Her mentor talks Sally through the breathing exercise, taking her to that calm grounded state.
There is a calm firmness in Agatha’s voice as she speaks again. “Well done Sally, now we’re going to move on to the next stage.” Her words next stage hanging in the air.
Sally lets go of the words and concentrates on her breath. The sensations in her body; the light touch of fabric above her and the warm vinyl against her bum and shoulders. Unsure if the smell is the chair or Agatha’s PVC outfit. Trying to calm that unhelpful inner voice, slide past its whispering on her periphery about sitting in the dentist’s chair.
“Sally,” Agatha’s authoritative voice again, “we’re now going to distract, and retrain your amygdala with stimulus to respond positively to sitting in this dentist chair…”
Sally aware of soft touches against both her cheeks. Realising that they are kisses. More than one pair of lips. Kisses that grow a warmth inside her.
Feeling the fabric of her blue chemise being pulled on. Hearing it tear, and the feeling of being exposed to all eyes in the room. The feel of their gaze washing over her with the cool air on her skin, their lust drinking-in her bound and exposed body; Agatha, her David, horsey-Louise and the bound Geena. Sally feeling the ache of her firming nipples in response to her thoughts of being exhibited for this select audience.
Then the lips; those lips kissing her face, her neck. The warmth of tongues running down from her shoulders. Feeling that moist warmth on the rise of her breasts, imagining them drawn towards her now firmed nipples. Drawing a short gasp as the warmth envelops and swirls around them; arms and legs pulled firmly against the restraints. The contact sending a flutter through her stomach to her pubis.
Limbs relaxing against the cuffs as warm suction gently draws her breasts in, fingers tracing down. Their touch gently caressing the beautiful soft curve of Sally’s stomach. Their strokes caressing the delicate skin patterns bestowed through her achievement of motherhood.
Her breasts released from the warm ministrations, the sensation of the cool air delivering a contrasting pleasure. Hearing the word “beautiful” whispered. Feeling lips caress those hard earned stripes of the mother tiger. Sally aware as her breaths shorten, shallowing as the oral caresses move across the softness of her thighs. Trying to part her thighs against the restraints, willing the lips to explore within them. The feeling of them travelling down her thighs; then disappointment as their warmth lifts from her skin.
Sally opens her eyes. Agatha and Louise smiling wickedly down at her, their lipstick depleted. Glancing down across her own restrained form. Absorbing the erotic visage of smudged lipstick that surround her nipples, feeling their ache. Their swollen prominence announcing to everyone in the room just how aroused she has become. Feeling her own heat, her need.
Aware of the gaze of the woman tied to the chair next to her; the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts, those alluring nipples, and her needful look now directed at Sally.
Agatha’s stern voice, “did you enjoy watching that Geena?”
Sally’s mentor bending to kiss Geena, “your nipples tell me you did!”
Agatha bending further to kiss Geena’s left breast, lingering there to explore her swollen nipple and drawing an audible response.
“Now Geena, you know what do? I want you to perform the next stage of Sally’s… therapy…” To which Geena nods with a gleaming smile.
Sally watches as Agatha unties the rope from Geena’s wrists, aware of her own restraints. Unsure of what Agatha has planned for her but finding both her own her own inability to object the prospect physically arousing. That delicious anticipation of being the subject of a stragers’ whim or fantasy. The release from guilt of having no control, being subjected to, of being used for their pleasure. Forced to enjoy, not endure, whatever pleasure Agatha and Geena now have in mind…
Agatha leads Geena by the hand to Sally’s restrained form. “Now kiss her Geena. I want to see you kiss Sally.” A loud slap follows, briefly changing Geena’s expression; not pain but a flash of excitement.
Sally watches the brunette above her, aware of the movement in the medical chair’s PVC cover below Geena. Looming above Sally, telling her that Geena is now kneeling beside her on the chair. A backlit curtain of curls framing Geena smile, her lovely full boobs swaying enticingly from the leather harness. Lips diving down to make contact with her own. The brief warmth of Geena’s tits against her own. Feeling Geena’s enthusiasm for the first time.
“Be a good girl for once and suck on her nipples Geena” Agatha insists. Followed by a second audible slap, which Sally feels through the movement of the woman’s lips against hers. A briefly more enthusiastic kiss before they part with hers, leaving Sally quite breathless.
Watching Geena noisily kiss her breasts, then lap at them with her tongue. Now able to see Agatha raise her hand again, then make rapid and sharp contact with Geena’s bum. Eliciting a gasp, and a wicked grin.
Hands squeezing her tits, Sally feels Geena take her nipples and tug. Enjoying the delicious sensation shoot through her, pulling her upwards. The pleasure of the release as Geena lets go and their weight slaps back into her chest. The sharp sting as Geena slaps first her left boob and then her right. The waves of sensation ebbing briefly before another tang of pleasure arrives. Faster and faster, driving an exotic heat through Sally’s body. Each sensation flowing down, growing a heat in her already moist cunt.
Watching as Geena kisses her now rosy-pink tits, the touch soothing after the sharp contact of her hands.
Then feeling the smack of Geena’s hand on the inside of her thigh, Sally gasps away from Geena’s lips. With that the brunette raises from her, and begins to draw her finger-tips along the insides of Sally’s thighs. Only to stop tortuously close to where Sally needs to be touched. Geena grins back up the chair at Sally.
Feeling Geena’s fingers touch her nether lips before stroking softly up them. The gentle up-and-downward motion of a finger-tip easily parting the moist petals of sally’s sex. Feeling a finger slide easily into her, failing to hold it there. The brief disappointment of it sliding out, only to be joined easily by a second. The warm pleasure of their movement inside her. A warmth that builds with their increased speed.
A sharp spark of contact and wet slapping begins to accompany each inwards movement. Sally feels the wash of sensation begin within her, her breathing shortening to match the girl’s movements. Trying to thrust her pelvis up against Geena’s wet palm, to intensify the contact, to drive her own pleasure…
Then the wet slurp, and emptiness. Her wave ebbing. Geena grinning down at her helplessly restrained form again.
Gena’s grin widening, her fingers sliding across Sally’s clean wet mons to the apex of her cunt. Feeling them slide down, circling her aching pleasure bud. Sensation linking the needful aches across her body.
Gasping as she feels the brief tug at her clit, before it slips out of Geena’s grasp.
Fingers entering her again. That delicious slap of a palm against her, against her clitoris, reviving Sally’s wave of pleasure.
Feeling two fingers curling-up inside her as Geena’s palm slaps wetly against her. Only a woman finds that place by instinct. Hard, fast penetrations and slaps. The sharp contact with her clit along with harsh thrust against her g-spot filling Sally. That other colour growing within her. Filling Sally to bursting.
Seeing Agatha kissing Louise; her hand moving rapidly down the front of Louise’s jodhpurs. The horsey girl’s legs trembling. Hearing Louise exclaim her pleasure with a string of expletives, watching the fabric of her crotch becoming transparent with her release.
Sally’s arousal climaxing, waves of bright pleasure drawing her inwards. Her joy flowing out warmly and spraying against Geena’s slapping hand, through her fingers, drenching Sally’s thighs. Her limbs shuddering against the restraints with the release. Sensation building and collapsing, the wet slap of a palm against her pulsing clit. Fingers still pounding her pleasure mercilessly within. Her climax still swirling and growing, filling her very being, lifting her away.
Sally could still feel her limbs trembling. The perfume of arousal heavy. Aware of movement, something either side of her chest. Something warm and moist against her breast. Moving up. Something pressing across her upper arms, pressure on the cushion either side of her head. That delicious scent stronger.
Opening her eyes, Sally realises Geena is now straddling her chest, knees either side of her head. Seeing that Geena is offering herself to her. Splaying herself open as she lowers her wet sex down towards Sally’s mouth. God, it’s been so fuckin’ long! Opening her mouth and meeting Geena’s beautiful cunt with an extended tongue. Tasting her excitement. Sally feeling her cunt press down against her mouth, losing herself in exploring it with her mouth as it grinds down against her. Sally’s face quickly wet with the other woman’s juices. Her mouth being used for pleasure as Geena increases her pressure and speed against her. Resistant to the pressure, Sally losing herself in the delight of tasting the other woman’s slippery cunt, dimly aware of the guttural sounds of pleasure coming from Geena.
Sally’s efforts abruptly interrupted by the force of Geena’s gaping sex pressed into her mouth. A roar of pleasure from above. An explosion of taste filling Sally’s mouth, warmth splashing across her face and neck as Geena’s cunt trembles against her welcoming mouth. Its warmth shuddering delightfully as Sally uses her tongue to gently caress between the engorged petals.
Feeling the weight lift from her, more movement. That gloriously open blossom replaced with a beautifully smiling face framed in damp ringlets. Those lips bending down to claim another kiss, one flavoured with her own juices. The press of warm breasts against her own. The languid enthusiasm of the lips thanking hers.
Nothing tastes like a grateful woman’s kiss… anxious thoughts of visits to the dentist vanquished.