Fred leaned back in his chair and smiled at the girl opposite him. She looked back at him wide-eyed, her hands lying loosely in her lap.
“Now, Clara, I think we’ve made a lot of progress. We’ve moved up through Phase 1 very quickly. I’m very proud of you.” She flushed slightly, and ducked her head. “Now it’s time for us to learn about Phase 2.”
It didn’t seem possible, but her deep blue eyes got a little wider.
“Phase 2? What’s that, sir?” Eager.
“You’ll find it’s very easy and enjoyable, Clara. Even easier and more pleasurable than Phase 1. Are you ready to begin?”
“Good, Clara. Very good. I want you to..” He broke off, listening. There were noises coming from the outer office. Unpleasantly disruptive noises. Before he could rise to investigate, the office door burst open, and a tall, dark-haired woman stormed in, fending off the secretary’s futile efforts at hindering her progress. Fred winced slightly, thinking that of all the times to forget to lock the door..
“I’m going to see him, and I’m going to see him NOW!” the woman snarled.
The secretary shot a helpless glance at Fred.
“Sir, I’m very sorry, but she..”
He sighed, waved her away. She closed the door behind her.
The intruder turned, and saw him. She was breathing heavily, her hair was in tangles, her stylish clothes disheveled, as if thrown on in a great hurry. As their eyes met, something inside her seemed to crack, and she started sobbing, great wracking sobs. Fred sighed again, and looked over at Clara, who had shrunk down into a frightened little ball as Constance come storming in. If he wasn’t careful, this was going to put Clara’s treatment schedule back at least a week. There was nothing for it now but start the damage control..
“Clara. Everything’s fine. Everything’s completely under control. Close your eyes. Rest. Sleep.” The blonde woman gave a little sigh, and her eyes instantly fluttered shut. Her chin dropped to her chest. She uncurled from her frightened clench, and her arms slopped out.
“Everything’s NOT under control!” Constance almost screamed. “Fred, I- I think I’m losing my mind! I woke up this morning and I was.. was wearing those.. those.. things and there was...” She broke off, and stared down at Clara. “She’s not wearing any clothes.” She whispered.
“Constance. You’re overwrought. Tired. Confused. Sit down.” He guided her unresisting body to his chair and gently pushed her into it. She was still staring at Clara.
“You’ve.. you’ve got a naked woman in your office...” The same shocked whisper.
He stood behind her, began stroking her neck, rubbing her shoulders.
“Constance. Forget about Clara. she’s utterly unimportant at the moment...” He paused thoughtfully. “No, actually. She is important. She can help us. Look at Clara, Constance. See how relaxed she is?”
He felt an unwilling, frightened nod through his moving hands.
“Good. Very good. You were right. Clara is naked. It was very clever of you to notice.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in his voice. “Her breasts are exposed to us. Watch her breasts, Constance. Watch Clara’s firm breasts... as they rise... and fall... rise... and fall... with each of Clara’s... long.... slow... relaxed... breathes..”
“Uuuhh...” It was more a sigh then a reply.
“That’s right.... Rise.... and fall... rise..... and fall..... in.... and out.... in.... and out..” As he spoke, his gentle probing fingers found Constance’s pulse. It was slowing apace, and after a few moments, he judged that it matched Clara’s breathing rate exactly. He smiled, and continued stroking Constance’s neck.
“Now then, Constance. Are you relaxed?”
She swallowed, and nodded.
“Good. Now you can tell me. What was it that got you so upset? Stay relaxed..” He added smoothly as he felt a twinge shoot through her. “Stay calm and relaxed, watch Clara’s breasts go up... and down... and tell me exactly what happened.”
She sniffled a little and spoke quietly. “I woke up this morning, and.. and I was wearing these.. this underwear.. like.. something a hooker would wear... and there were all these... pictures on the walls of my bedroom. Women.. doing things to each other.. and.. to men.. and I didn’t put them there!” Her voice started to rise again on these last words.
“Shhh.. Constance. Shhh. Relax... completely relaxed. In... and out... up.... and down...” For several moments he said nothing. Then he transferred his hands to her temples, and began rubbing in slow, tight circles. “You’re doing very well, Constance. Very well, and I’m very proud of you. But, I think there’s something more you’re not telling me. It would help your therapy a great deal if you did. So tell me, what else was wrong this morning when you woke up?”
She swallowed again. Her voice was a whisper.
“There.. there... was a... it...”
“There was a dildo buried deep inside you, wasn’t there?”
She twitched again.
“And you liked it, didn’t you?”
“H-how did you know?”
“I know because it was a result of the therapy, Constance. Everything that happened this morning was just part of your therapy.”
“I’m not.. going crazy?”
“Of course not. Just the opposite. You’re getting better and better, saner and saner, every day of your therapy. Leaving all of your problems further and further behind you ...as you relax... become more and more relaxed.. and watch Clara’s breasts go up... and down.. and listen to my voice. Only to my voice. What happened this morning was a good thing, Constance. It’s vitally important for you to remember that, always. Your therapy is progressing rapidly. It was good that you saw what you saw. It was also good, very good, better than good, that you came to me immediately with your problems, even though in this case they weren’t really problems at all. I’m the only one who can help you with your problems, Constance.” He increased the pressure of his fingertips every so slightly. “Isn’t that right, Constance?”
“Yes.” She tried to nod as she stared glassily at Clara’s breasts. “You’re the only one who can help me with my problems. That’s why I came to you this morning. Even though they weren’t really problems at all.” She suddenly smiled widely, a striking contrast with her dark tear-stained eyes. “In fact, every thing that happened this morning was good.”
“Good. Constance. Very good. You’ve done very well. All of this shows that we’re ready to take the next step in your therapy. A very important step. Are you ready to take the next step?”
“Good. Listen very carefully now. The next step is for you to go on a special retreat for the weekend. Starting today. Fortunately, today is Friday, so we can get an early start. In a short while, you’re going to call your office, and tell them you’re going to be out sick today. They’re probably worried about you by now. In fact, when you call your office, you will be sick at home, in bed, even through you will not be leaving this room. Do you understand?”
“Have you made any plans with anyone this weekend?” She wasn’t supposed to be making plans with anyone at anytime, but in this case it was better safe than sorry..
“Good. Now it’s time to rest, Constance. Rest. Sleep. Deep, dreamless sleep until I speak to you again.”
Her head fell forward on her chest. Fred lifted her head up, and cracked one of her eyelids open, nodded with approval. He gently let her head down again, and walked over to his desk. Picked up the phone.
“Maria... Yes.... Everything’s OK. It wasn’t your fault. Now be a good girl, and be quiet, and get me Jillian....” A short pause. “...Hello Jillian. It’s me.... Yes, Jillian, I know. Thank you. Now listen carefully. I’m afraid we’ve had something of relapse here, and will need to have a retreat this weekend.... Jillian... Don’t worry, Jillian. These things happen. Everything is under control. Just meet me at the cabin as usual. I’ll be there with our guest soon.” He paused, glanced at Clara. Hmm.. may as well kill two birds with one stone.. “No.. make that guests. There’ll be two this time. Clients.. um.. let’s see.. #214, aaand..” he typed quickly at the computer on his desk. “..#342.... Yes... Correct... See you soon.” He hung up, then carried the phone over to where Constance sat.
“Constance. It’s time to call your office.”
Snuffling, Constance leaned over and picked up the phone beside her bed. She coughed, and slowly punched in the number for the office. It rang. Someone answered. She spoke, her voice a hoarse croak.
“Hi Pad, id’s (cough) me... Constance.... I’m afraid I won’d be in today. (sniff) Got a twenty-four virus.. or something... Yeah. (cough)... Yeah, righd. Thanks a lot, Pad.. (sniff)..No, don’t boder. Please, no calls. I’m just gonna hide under my pillow and sleep all weekend.” She turned away from the phone and sneezed, violently. “..Sorry about thad. See you on Monday... Righd... I will.... Bye..” She hung up the phone and flopped woozily back onto the bed.
“Very good, Constance. Now close your eyes and sleep again. Deep dreamless sleep. Deeper than before. Much deeper. Hear nothing, think nothing, until I speak to you again.” She immediately sank back down again as he carried the phone over to where Clara sat slumped in her chair.
“Clara. You will listen to me now, but you will not wake up. You will stay asleep, calm and completely relaxed. As you listen, you will go deeper into sleep. In a moment, you are going to make a phone call to your office, and tell them you don’t feel well, and are going to go home after your therapy appointment and sleep. Do you understand?”
Her voice was a blurred sigh. “Yes, sir...”
“Good. Have you made any plans with anyone this weekend?”
“I have my exercise class with Millie on Sunday morning, sir.”
“Oh, yes. Well, we can forgo that this weekend. I’ll explain to Millie.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He ran his hand along the side of her face. He was going to like this one, and so would his real clients..
Fred stood at the side of the hot-tub and looked down with mild approval. Both women floated bonelessly in the blood-warm, gently frothing, water, their heads held in place by a device that was half headphones, half padded vice. Both of them looked up unblinkingly, happily, at the spinning silvery ball that twirled slowly over the tub, casting its sparkles around the room. Soft, gently pulsing music, threaded through and through with his recorded voice, trickled soothingly and continuously into their open, pliant, minds. Usually he didn’t like to resort to anything this.. forceful, but it always turned out to be the best way with these more difficult cases..
A door opened, and Jillian stepped back into the room, wearing her lab coat and carrying a clipboard. She moved silently over to a bank of monitors, and checked various readings, making an efficient adjustment or two. As she moved one particular knob, both women in the tank twitched in unison, their expressions unchanging. Finally she was satisfied, and came to stand by Fred.
“Everything looking OK, Doctor?” He asked cheerfully. She looked up at him, her wire-rimmed glasses and her pupils catching the sparkles of the ball.
“Yes, Master. All readings are within acceptable tolerances.” She squirmed hesitantly, licked her delicate lips. “Master..”
“Yes?” He looked down into her lovely brown eyes.
“Your slaves will be all right if we leave them alone for a while. May I now please be allowed to.. to..” Her gaze dropped and she flushed brightly under her prim sandy hairdo.
Still smiling, he reached out and slowly unbuttoned her lab coat. As usual, there was nothing underneath except a expanse of warm, soft, skin, delightfully distributed in the proper proportions. The clipboard slipped out of her hand and clattered on the floor.
The next day he made it a threesome, and introduced Clara to Stage 2. As expected, she made great strides.
Constance opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside with a smile. Closed the door behind her and carefully locked it. It was good to be home after a long day at work. She’d had a lot of extra paperwork to plow through after being sick on Friday. After being sick all weekend. What a drag that had been... She shed her coat, dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, and walked to the stereo system. She flipped it on, and the music started pounding out. Gracefully wiggling her hips to the beat, she danced into her bedroom. She spun around slowly, looking happily at all of the lovely pictures of women ecstatically preforming their proper function. The ceiling was still bare, though.. She needed some more pictures from.. from whoever it was who gave her the pictures.. she’d remember when it was important.. Still moving in perfect time to the music, she started to peel off her hot, sticky, chafing clothes. Had to get something more comfortable on. Or maybe tonight was one her nights to go naked. It didn’t matter. She’d remember that when it was important as well. She saw her dildo lying patiently on the floor, and her smile got wider. But that wasn’t allowed until later.
Her therapy was progressing very nicely.