The Analyst's Couch

Chapter One-2

Peter took my arm and turned our backs to the room; bending down and privately whispered that about half of the room saw the exchange between Mahoney and me, and two very esteemed CEOs stopped him on the way over and told him to email them if I ever became available. Peter said he was so proud of his Clinical Assistant; he could burst. I had handled Mahoney perfectly, subtly, and with professionalism, he said, and he thanked me so very much. I informed him he needed to quit making me blush and thanked him for his compliment.

I walked over to my mom, who had tears in her eyes. “Hey, mom, I will be right with you,” I told her. “I have to talk to your Gala Partner first.” “Sir,” I apologized. “Please excuse my interruption. My name is Vanessa. I am Dr. Miles’s Clinical Assistant. Private security will accompany you home tonight.”

He thanked me, patted my hand, and told me I had a lovely mother. “Thank you, sir,” I said gratefully. I focused on my mom. “Mom, Dr. Miles has invited us to stay at his house tonight for safety reasons. Do you have reservations somewhere we need to cancel?”

She looked at me and said, “No, baby, I don’t have reservations. Did my new friend tell you what he said?”

“What?” I answered. “That I have a lovely mother?”

“Cute, smart ass. I am not fishing for compliments,” she countered. “He told me I should be very proud. Few people your age would have handled that situation so gracefully.” Then she beamed at me. Ok, this was going to be my night for blushing.

I told my mother I would be by and check on her, but we’d be safe tonight. As I turned to mingle, I privately thanked Mahoney for creating the opportunity for me to stay at Peter’s. The rest of the evening occurred without a hitch. My mom sat in the front seat beside Peter on the way home and regaled him with stories of my childhood. He laughed so hard he had to pull over once. I looked back, and the security team was still there. We drove inside the gates at Muirfield. Peter got out, walked back to the Security Team, and thanked them. I heard them tell him they would stay until the gates closed.

We pulled into the garage at Peter’s house, and Janine Mulligan, his part-time housekeeper, opened the door. Peter had called her to attend to my Mother and me. I told my mom; I would see her in the morning and got directions to my room. Peter followed and asked if I was OK? I sat on the edge of the bed; my whole body shook. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I sobbed until I lost my breath. Peter took me in his arms and massaged my back. I couldn’t stop crying. Finally, I was better. I pushed out of Peter’s arms and thanked him for putting up with my hysterics. He stood up, reflecting that everyone had expressed their appreciation of how I handled tonight’s disturbance. If a bit of adrenalin was all I experienced, I was getting off lucky. He also warned me it could happen again tonight. If it did, press one on the intercom, and he would come to me. He looked at me differently, and he left.

I woke up refreshed, sleeping through the night with no further effect from Jerome Mahoney. I showered and put on the same clothes I had on for the party. Janine was fixing breakfast for mom and Peter when I walked in. Janine asked me what I would like to eat? I replied I needed to call a cab to take my mom and me to the office where we had parked our cars, and I needed to change clothes. Peter usurped the conversation, reminding me I had a change of clothes hanging in his office closet, and we could all ride in together, and I would save some money. He then said that he understood it slipped my mind occasionally, but he was still the boss. My mom smiled; behind her eyes as she ate the grapefruit, and I shut up and sat down at the table and told Janine that since he was imposing his will on me, I’d have a toasted English Muffin with butter and honey.

About a half-hour later, we left for the office. When we arrived at the office, I hugged my mom goodbye after she thanked Peter for caring for her little girl. I headed back into the office, changed my clothes in Peter’s bathroom, and sat down at my desk. Besides assisting with some therapy, I transcribed his session recordings. I could write ten books from just one week’s tapes. The work is enjoyable and will hopefully be my life’s work. Even if we never marry, I can fantasize about him taking my virginity. I don’t have a boyfriend now, just my detachable showerhead. It’s a beautiful thing.

The month of January was hectic. We picked up 12 new patients; the County Court referred two additional people charged for s*x crimes but out on bail. It required them to attend the sessions, submit to testing, and report to the court each week. Jerome Mahoney took part in the weekly sessions as ordered. After the first visit of the month, when he stared evilly at me, he paid me no attention.

Peter told me today that we were closing the practice all next week. He was the keynote speaker at a Psychiatric Conference on Maui. He asked if I would like to go along and if so, I would need to go shopping for a formal dress for the Gala and a swimsuit if I didn’t have one. I told him I would love to go, but my budget didn’t allow for a dress and swimsuit, so I would have to pass. He seemed upset; but didn’t say a word.

They swamped us today. Our last patient left at 7:30 PM, and neither of us ate lunch. He came out of his office and ordered me to come on; he was buying dinner tonight. What could I have said? A free meal is a free meal. We pulled up in front of the Country Club, where he was a member. He talked about the Club’s founder, the tournament he hosted every year, and the professional golfers invited to take part. The guy must walk on water, I thought to myself.

I am clueless about golf; it makes no sense to pay all that money for a membership where you bat around a little white ball. However, never having been to a Country Club before, the experience was unforgettable. From the personalized touch of each person who waited on us, addressing “Dr. Miles.” The fantastic food and the masculine ambiance were incredible. I was never so relaxed eating a meal out.

It was 9:00 PM when we left the Country Club, and 20 minutes later, we pulled up in front of a ladies’ clothing store. Nope, it wasn’t a dress shop; it was a clothing store. I had heard of this place but had never been inside. Peter uttered another come on order and told me he was buying me clothes for Maui. He pointed out, I needed to go to this conference.

I didn’t move and told him, “I couldn’t accept the clothes.”

He pivoted on his seat and told me that offer was not a request. “I want you at the conference, and if you’re with me, you need to dress appropriately. Besides, it a tax write-off; ,” and in we walked.

He’d been here before. The lady, who I assumed was the manager, greeted him with a kiss, took my arm, and invited me to come with her. She handed me a container of sanitizing wipes. She asked me to please go into the ladies’ salon, where an attendant would help me dress and undress. She instructed me I needed to wipe my entire body as the clothes and swimsuits I tried on still needed to be sanitary for other clients. The Pandemic caused them to exceed recommended measures, ensuring their clientele protection. It required every lady who comes in to follow the same procedure.

I was astounded. Especially when I stepped into the Salon. The attendant, a beautiful young woman, somewhere around 18-20, asked me to follow her behind a curtain and to remove all my clothes. She asked if I was going to try on swimsuits, and I told her I was. She then laid two wood blocks on the floor, about two feet apart, and asked me to place one foot on each block. She washed my entire body, including my v****a and my butt, with the sanitizing contents. It was intimately erotic and was a complete turn-on.

The attendant gave me a pair of paper slippers and a white robe, then directed me to the Salon’s front. Constance Arline, the store’s owner, stood inside the doorway. She handed me three formal dresses, three sundresses, and three swimsuits. She instructed me to put each one on and come out so Peter could see them. My brain in a tizzy. First, everything she handed me was costly. Second, I had no shoes, no underwear, or accessories that matched any of these clothes.

I marched out into the store where Peter and Constance were talking. I interrupted their conversation, put my hands on my hips, and said, “We need to put on the brakes for one minute. I have nothing to wear with these clothes. My Vanity Fair Underwear and My DSW Shoes will not work. I thank you both, but you can’t change a sow’s ear into a silk purse without at least accessories and shoes. It seems we’re moving too fast to accomplish anything.” Constance smiled at me. She took my arm and led me to a counter where three stacks of lingerie, six pairs of shoes, and three pairs of sandals were waiting. They had chosen the underwear, shoes and jewelry that coordinated with any of the choices.

“Well, OK then,” I meekly muttered and walked back into the Salon to try on clothes. I left the store with three pairs of shoes, one evening dress, three sundresses, and two swimsuits. I had two pairs of sandals, a cover-up, more lingerie than I currently owned, two purses, and a bunch of unique jewelry. We loaded everything into Peter’s car and headed for the highway.

When we arrived at my apartment, Peter carried everything up and helped me hang it in my front closet. I was speechless. However, Peter didn’t have that problem. He sat down in my one comfortable living room chair and instructed me to take off my clothes, all of them. Peter shocked me. I never, in all my fantasies, considered he would say that. I turned and looked at him with tears rolling down my cheeks and blubbered; if that was all he thought of me, then he could get the f**k out of my house, take all that STUFF he paid for, and find himself another assistant.

He smiled. I had never seen a smile before from him: half sarcastic, half; you have no clue look. He told me to be quiet and not to interrupt him until he finished. If I chose not to obey him at the end of his little monologue, I could keep the clothing, etcetera and my job. Nothing will change, except I won’t be going to Hawaii. My mind had finally reached its max comprehension limit. Where was this thing going?

He clarified what he was saying to me; he was a Dominant Master. His lifestyle was the s****l and emotional domination of a Submissive Partner. He asked if I remembered the first day when he interviewed me? I nodded. He told me he wanted to ravage me completely, then. He needed to tie my hands behind me and f**k me until I fainted, to train me to be a willing submissive. He believed, during our initial time together, I had showed nothing which would change his mind.

I had had a minor crisis tonight with the amount of money he had spent, but I twisted it around and accepted his explanation. He pointed out I was indignant at his first direction to remove my clothes. Still, if I became his submissive, he said he would treat me with the utmost respect. I would learn more about myself; the next two years sexually than most people pick up in a lifetime. He assured me he intended to be together until one of us no longer desired the other’s affection. The lifestyle would take time to learn. He said he was an excellent teacher, and so far, according to him, I had been an avid learner.

After this disclosure, I was probably wondering; what’s in it for me, he said. First, he would immediately set up a trust account in my name. There would be enough money to cover the tuition and books, allowing me to finish my education wherever I wanted to go. Second, I would move into his house. We could store my furniture, so I would not be without what I had now if I left. I would stay employed at his practice. Peter said he needed me, that I was very competent, and he repeated he needed me. He also told me he would provide a clothing allowance to make sure I was comfortable within the environment in which he lived.

He told me I had a choice now. I could ask him to leave or take off my clothes. The option was mine currently, but my selections decreased if I stepped into his world.

I got up off the couch and started pacing. Submissive? What did that mean? His slave? I am nobody’s slave. He insulted me and excited me at the same time. I had to push my fantasies out of the way.

I told him, “I am a virgin and wasn’t even aware this dominating master thing existed. You drop this bombshell on me and tell me I have ten minutes to choose whether to trust that you’re safe or stay where I am and remain safe.”

Time ticked by. He said nothing. I walked toward him. I stood between his legs, my legs on the front of the chair on which he was sitting. I looked down into his eyes. “I’d like you to leave,” I announced. Without a look back, Peter got up and walked out my door.

He left. What did I do? I expected him to offer an alternative, and now I am left with no options at all. Unless? Unless what? He had set the terms, and apparently, this lifestyle didn’t last long. I had never seen him with anyone in a year and a half. I had no desire to submit to his terms and then have him say, “sorry, you don’t work out.” I had no experience, no understanding of domination and submission, but maybe, just maybe, I had enough time to learn. I opened my computer and searched.

Two hours later, I understood what I had to do. I wanted to love Peter, and if this was the path to lifelong togetherness, I could do whatever it took. I wasn’t afraid of Peter. I had observed his emotions enough to realize he was a very empathetic person. Regardless of the punishment, he would not hurt me. The punishment was an exciting alternative to a vanilla relationship. Listen to me; I’m thinking like I understand what I’m doing. Vanilla relationship? I had had no relationships! I had three hours to be ready to show him my acceptance of his offer, and I headed for my shower, razor in hand.

Two and a half hours later, I punched in my access code to the office, praying he hadn’t changed it. The door popped, and I was inside. It was 5:30; Peter came in every morning at 6:00 to go over the transcriptions from the previous day and prepare for this day’s patients. I reset the lock and walked into his office to get ready. I started by stripping off all my clothes and folding them neatly on the table at the end of the couch. I was naked; anticipation caused my juices to flow between my legs.

Next, I laid down on the couch, taking the belt I had brought; I placed my hands through the loop I had created with the buckle. I pulled it tight, pinning my wrist above my head and underneath the arms of the sofa. Finally, I wiggled down as far as my belted arms would allow, raising my left leg on top of the back of the couch with my knee bent and my calf and foot flat on the back of the sofa. In contrast, I allowed my right leg to rest flatfooted on the floor. I presented myself naked, my entire body except my head shaven. My pubic area is entirely bald and spread open for anyone to see. I waited for Peter to arrive.