Lois Loses Control
Part One
It was Amelia, my personal assistant who had recommended Doctor Luthando Owusu to me. A Nigerian counsellor who specialises in work related stress. She had assured me that he definitely was so good that after just three sessions she felt like a new woman, was a new woman, and that when she’d told him about me he encouraged her to persuade me to avail myself of his services. I was once a high flying corporate lawyer, in my thirties that was, and now just turning forty two I’d been finding it a struggle to maintain a standing at the Firm. I’d effectively lost a major merger tender for our client to a rival when every aspect of the acquisition pointed to the target company board accepting the share offer I’d suggested, only for a white knight bid at the very last minute to wreck the deal and I was, apparently, to blame. It hurt. I struggled to sleep, was on modest prescribed medication, but still needed a different approach. Doctor Luthando certainly seemed to fit the bill, and after my first session I left feeling almost invigorated. I don’t too much about it, actually, just how his voice relaxed me so much. And those eyes. When I looked into them I just wanted to disappear into them. It was almost surreal. And he gave me such a confidence boost about myself physically as well. I’m tall at five feet eight inches. Slim, with legs and an arse I’m proud of. Oh, and a 36D chest. Firm, with nipples that guys just want to hang on to with their mouths, which actually gets my juices flowing down there whenever one does. Just my husband Andre does now though, that’s for sure. A brunette blunt bob hairstyle compliments the rest. As for attractiveness, well, I’ve never really struggled. Married to Andre now for fifteen years, we had Jemima three years before we married. She turned eighteen only last week, and what a party that was. Somehow, and I don’t know how, or why I invited Doctor Luthando. I’d seen him only a second time by then, and he’d suggested it would be good to meet Andre and Jem, I call her Jem, to get a further feel for what I’m about. I ed Jem becoming very preoccupied with him throughout the day, and it was an all-day affair with about a hundred guests, when at one point I was certain she followed him out of the downstairs bathroom a few seconds after he’d left it, but couldn’t bring myself to discussing it with her. I had thought of raising it with him today at what was going to be our third session. If he didn’t mind though, because the fundamental approach to my treatment, so he said, was control. Maybe that was why I invited him to the party. I’d been in so much control myself, of where I was in life and career, what I was doing whilst there, that he felt there was a need for me to somehow relinquish that in therapy. In effect to be controlled myself instead. At first I thought the notion maybe not quite what I was looking for, but after just that one session I had felt, as I say, so invigorated. Much the same as Amelia had said, I was already feeling like a different woman. If truth be told I very much looked forward to that second session, but have to it that my memory of it remains somewhat vague. At one point I thought he was carrying out an invasive physical examination on me, but when he assured me that he wasn’t and it was African relaxation methodology, I felt much more comfortable with it and how it made me feel. My memory is still vague, but I know I left after that second session again feeling so much better. Yes, it probably was how I felt that prompted me to agree to his attending the party.
“Good afternoon Lois” he said as I entered his office. He was sitting in his armchair, as he had been on both previous occasions when I saw him, with his notepad and pen on his lap, and pointing to the armchair on the other side of a coffee table. “Take a seat” he then says. “Thank you, Doctor” I say as I sit. “It’s very warm. Too warm” he says, and so I unbutton my blouse and remove it, putting it on the floor beside my chair. I unclip the bra and remove that, putting it on top of the blouse. I feel much cooler already. I’m not at all embarrassed, not with how firm my tits still stand. In fact I push my chest out just slightly to make sure he notices, and I’m certain he does. I know that this is part of the treatment. He told me during the very first session that he would control me, and that I’d become totally susceptible to any suggestion he made, and whilst I know that it is just therapy, a sort of role play more than anything, it does at times feel a little strange, some of the things he tells me to do. Like making sure I’m not wearing panties when I attend a session after that first one, so I wasn’t today. “A pleasant sight, as always, Lois. Thank you” he says, which brings a smile to my face. I say nothing though. He’s told me that once the session starts I mustn’t say anything unless he tells me to, or asks a question, like the one he then asked; “Did you and Andre fuck last night?” “Yes, Doctor” I confirmed. “Did you come?” He asked. “No Doctor,” I respond. “Why is that?” He asked. “Because you told me that I can only come when you tell me I can.” I make sure he knows, because that’s what he did tell me. I have to say that ordinarily I am quite orgasmic, and it was so difficult last night not coming, but this concept of being controlled has made me feel so much better. I have wondered to what degree I will let it go to, as I worry that my willingness to participate does leave me open to being abused, but I’ve always been of a very strong character. That’s why I agreed to this sort of role reversal. I learned during that first session that I had to lose control, and be controlled instead, if I wanted to become that new woman I clearly needed to be. But I have in my mind set certain limits. There will definitely be some things that I just won’t do. At that moment though, I’m just waiting to be allowed to say something, and then he asked “What sort of toy are you?” I knew the answer to this one, because he told me during our very first session. “A fucktoy” I reply. “Who’s fucktoy?” He asks. “Yours, Doctor” I say, just so he knows that I’m still engaging in this therapy, and I am because it is definitely working for me. “Spread your legs” he says, and so I do. I need to pull up my skirt a little to get my legs as wide as I can. I can see that he’s now staring at it; that place at the top of my legs that men just do. Stare at, that is, and would do a whole lot more there given half a chance, but right now he wants me to do to myself just what I he told me do last time, and it did feel so good then. He says “Finger yourself, but don’t come until I tell you to, Ok?” I say nothing, and move my right hand down to between my legs, and part the lips there with my middle finger before a brief rub of the clit and then a finger inside. My middle finger it is, accompanied by my index finger soon afterwards. “And the breasts” he says, “Massage them.” And so with my free hand I take hold of my left tit and use the thumb and forefinger to squeeze the nipple. Then I move across to the right, knead it a little before pinching the nipple there. I am reacting between my legs now, getting quite wet. My fingers are working quite hard, in and out whilst I rub gently on the clit with my thumb. I know that this is all part of the therapy, and so satisfying it is too. Having been in control for so long in my career, and to a certain degree in my marriage too, this being controlled is really working for me. So much so that I’d started to think about the Doctor quite a lot as it happens. I’m almost there now. I want to come. He can tell. I can tell he can tell, but he’s not letting me. I know my hand is working harder, finger fucking fast now, that hole between my legs. My heart rate must be what; 120? 140? I’m almost screaming inside, yet still he won’t let me. I can’t help it, I shout out “Please! Please let me come!” And he then says “You can come now.” So I do, and I scream, and I gush, squirting all over the coffee table in front of me as I come in an eruption of bodily fluid. As I ease down from the peak of where I’ve been in ecstasy I can see that there’s quite a pool of liquid on the table now. As I stare at it he says “You’ve made quite a mess there, Lois. How was it for you, though?” “Wonderful. Thank you so much, Doctor, and I’m sorry about the, um, mess” I respond as I’m reaching that stage of resolution now from the peak of ecstasy I was at a few moments ago. Heart rate lowering. Breathing less strained. “Lick it off the table” he then says. I look again at the pool of my bodily fluid resting on the table now, just momentarily doing so though before I lean forward, thinking I could do it from the chair, start licking that is, but then realising I can’t I then go down on my knees to get at it. For some reason I want to do it, to taste myself on the coffee table there. I put my tongue out and started lapping at it, sucking it up as I lick as well, as he’d told me to. I was quite impressed with myself finding that a combination of lapping, licking and sucking removed virtually all of it from the table. I sat back up when I’d finished. It’s very difficult to put into words how engaging with this form of therapy, in allowing myself to be controlled, has and is helping me so much with how I was feeling this past couple of weeks or so. As I say, I suppose I have wondered about limits. What they might be. How far I would go in this before maybe I felt it was too much, but as it’s been so far, I’ve been fine with it. Having been unable to come with Andre fucking me last night, and I usually do come when he does, it was a relief being able to come just then, when the Doctor said I could. “Now, Lois, did you prepare as I’d told you to?” He asks. “Yes, Doctor” I confirm for him. “Stand up and show me” he says. I stood up and turned around with my back to him, lifted my skirt up past my arse and bent forward to steady myself on the back of the chair with my hands, spreading my legs as I did. I knew he was looking for the rather thick butt plug he’d given me last session to insert in my arse for this one. “Yes. Good” he says, which pleases me. A little encouragement, some recognition of an effort to please, is always well received. “Go over to the desk and bend over it” he said, and I glanced towards it to see where exactly I would bend over, before rising to walk over to it. When I got there I bent over it as he’d said. I heard him get up and walk over to me. I spread my legs as he arrived as I knew he’d expect me to. I feel the plug being pulled out and then feel it again at my lips. I look down to see it, knowing I suppose what was coming next, and he says “Suck” as he pushes it against my lips as I open my mouth, and then I suck. As I was sucking I felt something at the entrance to my arsehole, then it pushing in. I don’t like anal. Andre and I tried it a handful of times and I eventually said no more, but the butt plug had prepared me, I guess, and so the Doctor’s cock, and I was certain it was his cock, had found its way in that particular hole now quite easily. Whilst being arse fucked I still sucked on the plug. As he pulls the plug out of my mouth he then asks “What sort of toy are you?” “A fucktoy” I respond. “Who’s fucktoy?” He asked. “Yours, Doctor” I answered as he continued to bang away in my arse, quite forcefully now. “Does my fucktoy like being screwed in the arse?” He asks, and I say “Yes, she does.” It didn’t take long. First I hear him grunting as his momentum slows, gripping my hips tightly as it is, and obviously filling my arse with his cum. He then stops moving before I could feel it slowly pulling out. “Pull your arse cheeks apart and push it out” he then said, so I did. I could feel something pressed against my cheeks around my arsehole as I continue pushing. “That’s it” he said, “Turn around and get down” he then tells me, and I do. I’m on my knees with his cock now inches from my face, glistening with cum around the head and down the shaft, with my arse juices as well. “Clean it” he said as he pushed it towards my mouth. I opened it and took the cock in, sucking and licking as it was in there, hardening again slightly now, fucking my mouth as it was. Bigger than Andre’s, but maybe not as big as I’d imagined, or even fantasised about. He pulled it out, and as I stand up he hands me a small glass. I could see as I took it that it had cum in it. His cum from my arse for sure. “Drink” he said, and I did. Such is its constituency though, it didn’t all come out of the glass, of course, and I don’t know why I did what I did, but I used my finger to scoop out what remained and then sucked on the finger, looking into his eyes as I did. I guessed I thought it would please him, and was sort of in keeping with this control therapy I was finding was really working for me. “Get dressed and sit down again” he said, quite sternly, actually. Quite controlling in a way, definitely turning me on, which was a little disconcerting.
Dressed as I was, and sitting back down he said “I’ve decided to see you again next Tuesday, ok?” “Yes, Doctor, of course” I agreed, happy to be told again by him what to do. “So, next Tuesday then, Lois” he said as he looked towards the door, with the obvious inference that it was time for me to leave. And I did, rising from the chair and walking straight out without further exchange with him. A new woman I’m feeling as I do this, but wondering about actually enjoying my arse being fucked as I had, as I just don’t let Andre do that. Maybe that’s the limit I was thinking about. Had I let it go too far with that now, I wondered, but then again because of it I was feeling so good right then. Maybe it’s just a different limit I’m looking for.