The Therapy

It wasn't possible to mistake her. The woman who pushed through the glass doors and entered the coffee shop looked exactly like her photograph. This was a relief. Philip had gone to a number of first meetings only to discover these women had sent him pictures of someone completely different. Ironically, what they looked like, within reason, didn't matter to him, but they'd broken the only rule he insisted upon – honesty.

The woman who'd just arrived crossed over to coffee counter and ordered a drink. Then, she turned around and began to scan the room.

She'd been overly modest. The woman waiting at the counter was not nearly as plain as she had claimed to be. In her photograph – a head and shoulder shot – the auburn hair had been pulled back off her face, but she wore it loose now, a mane that tumbled down her back in shining curls. Her skin was very fair – the kind that would burn quickly in the sun. She wore a knee length black overcoat, a burgundy cardigan beneath it, and a pleated black skirt. Philip suspected that she was one of those people who felt the cold acutely. Despite the opaque stockings, he could see that she had lovely legs, and her feet were encased in neat, black pumps with a depressingly sensible heel.

The young man behind the counter handed her the drink but she remained at the counter still scanning the room. It wasn't polite to let her stand there searching for him, but it was hard to resist the pleasure of watching her, before everything changed with their introduction. Reluctantly Philip walked to the bar.

"Are you Jill?"

She smiled nervously. "Yes! Philip?"

"Indeed." He held out his hand and she took it. Her small hand was cold and shook slightly as he grasped it. "Shall we sit down?"

"Oh, yes. Please."

She wasn't just nervous; she was frightened – frightened of him. It hurt him a little inside to think of any woman being scared of him in this way, even if he understood that the world was sometimes a nasty place and it was a stupid woman who didn't think twice before meeting a stranger off the internet.

He had left a post on the personals message board. He was careful to word it in a non-aggressive way but equally careful to be clear about what he was looking for. He'd posted his own photograph on the message itself. He wanted to be scrupulously honest about who he was and felt that he deserved the same in return.

Once seated, she looked down at her paper cup and picked at the label with her nail. She gave a small smile and said, "I'm not quite sure what to say. I've never done this before. I… I don't know…"

"Jill? Look at me." She lifted her eyes hesitantly. "I'm sorry this is such an awkward situation. I wouldn't want you to think I don't understand how hard it is for you. Okay?"

She nodded and inhaled. "Okay."

"You're scared, aren't you?"

She nodded energetically. "Yes. I am. I really am."

"I could tell you that you have no reason to be, that I am exactly who I say I am and want exactly what I've said I want, but you're smart – it wouldn't make any difference."

He lay his hand, palm up, on the table's surface. She looked at it, then at him, then back at his hand. Hesitating visibly, she lowered her hand on top of his and let it sit there. Philip could feel how cold it was, his own warmth leached away to fill her. He curled his fingers gently.

"The only thing that is going to make a difference is time. And I have lots of that."

He felt her fingers return a tiny, shaky squeeze. It made him smile. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Ask." There was still a tremendous amount of tension in her face, but she met his gaze.

"Considering how hard it is to do this, why did you?'

Jill opened and closed her mouth, several times, before any words came out. "It's very hard to explain. I don't know if I can… I had a…" the words dried up and she shook her head in frustration.

Phillip sat it silence and waited.

"Once, a long time ago, I had an experience with someone. It was casual, you know? But I felt something… different…"

She wiped the tips of her fingers over her mouth, thinking. Watching her struggle to verbalize was both painful and extremely erotic.

"I think a lot. I think too much. Sometimes I think my life will fly past me while I'm busy analysing the first ten years of it. I can't make it stop. I can't be peaceful. I can't stop picking apart every little detail of reality. Sometimes I think it will drive me insane." Her words were pouring out in a cascade now.

"But, once, I met this man. Oh, ten, eleven years ago now. Um… " Her hand twitched in his grasp, her voice was quiet and tight. "He… we didn't have a relationship or anything. It was on holiday, you know? He…"

"He made it stop?" offered Philip.

"Yes! He made it stop. Suddenly everything was…"

"…Peaceful?"

"Yes! Peaceful." She nodded; some of the tension in her face ebbed away. "At first – well, for a long time – I couldn't figure out what it was that he did that made me peaceful. He was very different from anyone I'd been with before; he scared me actually. It wasn't like being with someone normal… Jesus! It's so hard to explain."

"You did a good job of it, Jill. That's fine. Thank you." Philip covered her the top of her hand with his free one and stroked it. "You did very well."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes. I do. Completely." He'd corresponded with other women about this before. Some of them had been very forthcoming, in extremely graphic language, about exactly what they were looking for, but few could explain why they wanted it. That was important to him; he needed to know that this part of them wasn't utterly disconnected from the rest of their lives. He wasn't interested in a bit of casual D/s in a hotel room somewhere. He was looking for someone to be with – to be himself with – on a long-term basis.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Her gaze slid from him, out past the windows of the café, to the street beyond. "Do you think I'm looking in the right place?"

"I don't know. I think that's something no one else can answer but you."

"Why do you do this? It can't be easy for you either."

"No. Not easy. Although I don't need to be quite as worried about my physical safety as you."

He realized that he hadn't given her a proper answer and she deserved one. "I do it because, without it, my life feels meaningless."

"Oh."

Philip smiled. "Oh," he echoed back.

"What happens now, then?"

"We keep meeting here, like this, until you feel safe."

She nodded and then sat silent for more than a minute. Finally she said, "It's never going to feel safe, until I know it is," Her eyes drifted over to the window again, "and I can never know that here."

That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting at all. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then when would you like to meet again?"

Throughout the conversation, he saw just how tightly she controlled herself. The fear was still there, even now. But clearly she was one of those very rare people who could be scared and still rational. She would be such a challenge for him. The prospect of being with her excited him deeply.

"Friday?"

"Friday is fine. Shall I book a hotel or… where would you feel most comfortable?"

"At your flat, if that's okay with you."

* * *

His doorbell rang at 4 pm on the dot. When he opened the door, she stood in the hallway looking as nervous as she had the first time they'd met, but when he invited her in, she didn't hesitate. It was as if her mind and her body where on completely different planes, and it was certainly her mind doing the driving.

Still, he took her hand and pressed it between both of his, trying to help her see her way past the worst of it. It was the most intriguing type of vulnerability he could remember seeing.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"Tell me if you're not."

"I will."

"Promise?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Promise." She gave him a tiny smile.

Philip raised a cupped hand to her face. He expected her to flinch at first. First contacts were always awkward until people began to communicate physically. But her restraint was breathtaking. She stood absolutely still, letting him caress her cheek, drawing his fingertips down her neck. Beneath his touch, the pulse at her neck was racing, thready.

"Can I take your coat?"

"Has it started?"

For a moment Philip was confused, then he laughed. "Yes and no," he said, helping her out of her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "We have some ground rules to establish first."

He settled her on the couch in the living room. She sat primly, with her knees and ankles pressed together. He offered her a glass of wine and she sipped it while he explained to her about safe-words. They agreed on ‘capital'. He made sure she understood that using it held no shame, no penalty.

Philip sat beside her as they talked, holding her hand. He felt the tension start to ease as the wine hit her bloodstream and her fingers relaxed in his grasp. Even though he knew it would be easier for her, he didn't offer a second glass. She had to transverse the barrier of her own volition; too much alcohol would call the legitimacy of her decision into question. And as much as he wanted her, he didn't want her that way.

"Right. I think that's about it."

"Do you want me to call you Sir or Master or something?" It was a small question, a child's question.

He touched her face again and stifled a laugh. "No… you can call me whatever you want. You call me something like that when you're ready."

"How will I…" she hesitated, "…how will I know?"

"You'll know." Philip got up. "Now, I'd like you to stand up, please."

She looked up at him, the fear had returned to her eyes. "Has it started?"

"Yes… It's started."

Jill put her wineglass on the table and stood in front of him. She was graceful and her posture was naturally good. He didn't tower over her, but the difference in their size was dramatic enough to make him feel protective, a feeling he enjoyed. Philip let her stand, let the silence fill the room, until he saw minute tremors at the tendons in her neck.

Then he touched her – just her arm. "Relax." He let his hand drift up and curl behind her neck. "I'm going to taste you."

He bent down and kissed her, careful to ensure the contact was only with her mouth. Lips quivering with tension as he covered them, tasting the tang of wine on their plump softness. His hand held her firmly in place as he explored the outside of her mouth with his tongue. Gradually he felt her jaw relax. The lips parted and he exhaled into her before sliding his tongue between them. Under the taste of the wine was something warmer, infinitesimally spicy, like nutmeg. Philip wondered if her whole body would taste like that. He wanted to know.

She wasn't naturally acquiescent. He could tell as he fed on her mouth. She was held together with string, he suspected. He wanted to know how many knots it would take to tease her apart. She felt nothing for him, and yet she allowed him past her barriers – all in search of something entirely esoteric. It didn't bother Philip that, as he kissed her, he felt no passion there. There would be.

"Take off your clothes, please," he said, breaking the kiss.

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded. Philip sat down in an armchair opposite to watch her. He wanted to see her body, but that wasn't why he was asking her to expose herself like this. He wanted to know if she'd balk.

Her thin fingers struggled with the buttons on her blouse. At one point, she looked away towards the window as she undid the last of them and shrugged her shirt off. There it was: the one brick wall to keep him out – the disconnect. Ridding her of that would be his principal challenge. She wore a plain white bra beneath which she reached back and undid, letting it slip away from her as she lowered her arms to unbutton her skirt. The skin of her chest was milky. Her breasts were neither too large nor too small and there was neither pride nor shame as she exposed them. The nipples were erect, whether from cold or arousal or fear, Philip wasn't foolish enough to try and guess which.

She let her skirt slide down to her ankles, revealing plain white panties that matched her bra and a pair of stay-up stockings. He considered asking her to leave those on, but decided her total exposure was more important, for her, and he was glad of his decision; after stepping out of her shoes, and bending down to roll off her stockings, she looked away toward the window again as she pulled her panties over her hips and let them drop to the floor.

She was almost perfect, physically, but not quite. Her hips, her jaw and her mouth were all just a little too wide and this, in Philip's eyes, saved her from the banality of perfection. They were the attributes that made her unique, and interesting to him.

She was still lost in the world beyond the window as Philip stood and walked over to her. He took her jaw and felt the tiniest resistance before she let him move her head to face him.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine." Her answer came too quick.

"Don't lie," he said quietly.

"Sorry." A whisper.

"How do you feel?"

"Naked… Nervous…Cold…inside."

"Thank you."

He pulled her forward a little and kissed her again. Amazing how nakedness could change things. Her mouth was receptive now, her lips responsive. He didn't delude himself that it was passion; it was the instinctive seeking of sanctuary.

Philip stepped back a and trailed his fingertips down her neck, over her collarbone and onto her left breast, covering it with the palm of his hand. He listened to her breathing and his eyes never left her face. She caught her breath as he massaged her and he watched her eyelids flutter closed.

"Keep your eyes open, please."

She responded lethargically and the effect was truly erotic; her dilated pupils shimmered and shrank. Philip's cock twitched appreciatively.

"Your breasts are very beautiful," he murmured, drawing his hand back to take the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. A tiny nerve in her upper lip twitched. She was fighting the sensation. No matter, Philip thought, she couldn't fight more than one at a time. With his free hand, he cupped her vulva, moulding his fingers into the curves. She had a sparse thatch of darker hair, neatly trimmed. She shivered, then â€" it was what he expected â€" and a small noise escaped her throat.

He brushed the fingers of one hand over the outer lips of her pussy, teasing the hairs. The fingers at her nipple squeezed with slow and subtle pressure. Philip allowed himself a private smile as she swayed slightly. Her gaze dropped for a moment, and then sought the safety of the drying light outside the window.

"Don't, Jill. Don't look away. Eyes on mine, please."

She nodded slowly and looked up at him. He gave her an encouraging smile. The trust she was showing him was tremendous and he was utterly aware of what it was costing her. It wouldn't go unrewarded.

Between her legs, his fingers worked slowly but diligently, stroking her, bringing blood to her outer lips until they plumped and made his passage easier. Then, while he increased the pressure on her nipple, he slid a fingertip into the furrow of her cunt, grazing the tiny nub at the centre.

"Oh-h!" The sound was half-gasp, half-cry.

"Oh, indeed." he whispered. Between his own legs, Philip's cock began to throb dully.

Her pupils opened gradually as he touched her, gently sliding his finger down to her opening to gather up the moisture that had just begun to pool there. His pressure on her nipple was considerable, and yet there was no sign of the pain of it in her eyes. That was the sensation she'd chosen to block and so he released it and moved his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek and running his thumb across her lips.

Her cunt was wet now, and his fingers moved fluidly, stroking the whole of her cleft. Her clit engorged as he worked her, emerging from under its hood to seek his attentions. Philip was sure her heart was racing now that a lovely flush of pink crept up her neck and onto her cheeks. The sight of it, and the increased rhythm of her breathing made him salivate. But what made him almost painfully hard was the parting of her lips. He slid his thumb between them, into the waiting heat of her mouth.

He didn't have to ask her. She began to suck it beautifully, eagerly. Soft pink lips embraced his thumb as he slowly fucked her mouth with it.

Below, he pressed two fingers up inside her and tormented her clit with his thumb. Her liquids flowing, he felt them ooze over his hand and between her thighs.

She moaned around his thumb and sucked hungrily. Her hips trembled and sent ripples up her body.

He withdrew his thumb from her mouth. He needed his hand now to steady her from behind and, stepping closer to her until their bodies touched, Philip put his arm around her waist and kissed her.

Now, at the cusp of her arousal, her mouth was open and hungry. He replaced his thumb with his tongue and filled her mouth with it. She responded instantly, suckling it, whimpering her pleasure.

Her legs parted wider, her hips rolled to meet the thrusts of his fingers and Philip felt her cunt muscles clutch at his fingers as she began to orgasm.

He pushed his lips to her ear, urging her over the edge. "Good girl," he murmured. "Such a good girl."

"Oh-h…. please!" she begged.

He filled her with his fingers, over and over, as she convulsed against him, murmuring wordless sounds into his shoulder.

When the last of the aftershocks were over, he pulled his fingers from her gently and embraced her.

"Good girl," he said again, and kissed her on the forehead,

She mewed into his chest in response.

Then, he released her and, with his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face away from him and pushed her downwards.

"On your hands and knees, please."

But she was already sinking down onto them. She hesitated for a moment, before bending forward to take her upper weight on her hands.

Philip walked around her and looked down appreciatively. He bent to smooth her hair back and trace his fingertips along her spine. Her body rippled in the wake of his touch.

"Don't move, Jill," he said in a quiet, firm voice.

Philip left the room and opened the hall closet for what he needed: two short lengths of rope, a pillow, a butt plug, and a condom.

He wanted her desperately and he would have liked to take her, looking into her face, but that wasn't what she needed. That would have to wait.

Returning to the room, he found her in the same place he'd left her, except she'd lowered her body to the floor. It wasn't worth a punishment, not at this stage in her training.

He knelt down beside her and stroked her side. "Are you alright, Jill?"

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly glazed and nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure," she whispered.

"What's the safe word, Jill?"

"Ca…capitol."

"Use it if you need to," Philip said gently.

She closed her eyes and smiled. "I don't need to."

"Then up on your hands and knees, please."

She rolled onto her stomach and resumed her earlier position. Philip slid the pillow between her hands and, with his hand on the back of her neck, pressed her down gently, until her head was resting on its side, on the pillow. She watched him as he did this, her eyes filled with trust.

"Lay your arms flat on the floor, please, with your hands touching your legs."

As she did what he asked, Philip was almost sure he saw a small smile cross her lips. He stroked her back before taking each of her wrists and tying them loosely to her calves. The bindings were hardly a significant restraint. If she was uncomfortable, she could roll over onto her side. Their purpose was to keep her head down and her ass up. As a position, it was beautiful for a dominant to see, offered good access, and very fulfilling for the submissive.

When he'd finished tying her, he stroked her back again to reassure her, but it wasn't needed. She'd settled into the position with a very pleasing sound.

Philip stood up and undressed, making sure she could see him do it. Then, returning to his knees, he moved behind her and eased her legs apart, just enough to have full access to her cunt. It was sopping wet from her orgasm and he worked his fingers between her lips, reigniting her arousal and coaxing her wetness backwards. She mewed into the pillow, and spread her knees further apart.

His fingers worked her until her fluids began to flow again, and then spread them upwards, over her asshole. At first she twitched when he pressed against the small, tight hole with his slippery finger. With his other hand, he covered her mound and let a finger slide between the lips to coax her open with subterfuge. Stoking the fingers of one hand over her clit, he pressed the index finger of the other into her anus until just the tip was buried in her. Jill moaned and moved. With each roll of her hips, she impaled herself a little more onto his finger until it was halfway inside her. He was careful not to let her come yet and so he teased her clit, giving and denying her in turns.

Introducing a second finger into her ass, he worked and stretched her until he felt she was ready. Then, he withdrew his fingers and eased the larger plug into her. At first she whimpered and her legs shook, but a little more attention to her clit coaxed it into her.

"Do you want to come?"

"Please… Philip."

"I want you to come on my cock."

She panted and rolled her hips again." Yes… God, yes!"

Philip opened the condom package and rolled the sheath onto his cock. It felt cool and pleasant against his burning skin. Positioning himself behind her, cock in hand, he teased the head of it between her swollen cunt lips. Again, he wished he could have seen her face as he did this. It would have given him immense pleasure to watch her as he penetrated her for the first time.

Slowly, he eased the head of his cock into her pussy, and heard the most gorgeous moan from her throat. She was burning and tight, and pushing into her was delicious. He looked down to see the plug filling her other hole and began to fuck her, slowly and evenly.

She pressed back to meet him as he filled her, gasping at each stroke. He sank his cock deep and, as he did, his pelvic bone forced the butt plug deeper into her ass.

The long swathe of milk-white skin on her back called to him and he reached forward to stroke it as he pumped her, revelling in the grunts she was making, knowing that the civilized part of her was being stripped away with each cock-thrust.

He bent over her and reached for her breast, taking the nipple between his fingers and squeezing hard. Immediately, she groaned and fucked back at him harder, her cunt muscles squeezing him, greedy for what he was feeding her.

"Oh fuck!" she cried. "Philip… Don't stop… Please."

"I won't… Not until you're there." He wasn't talking about orgasm, and he was sure she knew it.

He released her nipple and reached forward until his hand encircled the back of her neck. He pressed her face hard into the pillow and began to pound into her.

Then, quite suddenly, he felt the body beneath him change. The rhythm of her undulations became fluid and she spread her knees as wide as they would go.

"Yes-s…" she keened. Her eyes were open and blind, and she was smiling.

She was there, where she had wanted to get back to for so long. He heard the animal sounds she made as she started to come around him. He slowed his pace and fed her deep thrusts that took him to the edge as well and pushed him over. He impaled her hard and held her there as he shot waves of come into her spasming cunt.

When he pulled out of her, she made no noise, nor when he removed the plug. As he moved around to undo the ties at her wrists it was the same. No sound, no hint of recognition in her eyes. He pulled a throw off the armchair and covered her with it. Gradually, almost ten minutes later, she curled up on her side and reached out to touch his hand.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Was it as you remembered?'

Jill nodded her head and closed her eyes. She was asleep in seconds.

The End.