My Therapist Enters
“Good afternoon, Mr. Thomson. So eager to see me.”
Hands gently work about my head, as always assuring the blindfold adhered to my hood. There comes a series of clicks, my neck collar secured, wrists to the sides of the table. There is slack... unusual.
“Knees to your chest... be a good boy for me.”
I comply, the hands again working. I hear clicks, feel tension on the ankle cuffs now encircling my thighs above the knees. Something is attached, pulling my legs upwards, assuring that I lie curled up, knees to my chest.
“It’s termed the decubitus position. Makes you feel nice and helpless... and exposes what a woman like me most enjoys tormenting. You’re going to have a long afternoon, Mr. Thomson. I may fanny f**k you later... I may not. And in being such a good boy,
