This is adult fiction of erotic nature. If you are too young or just unlucky to live in an area where this is not permitted, then you should get off now. The copyright to this story belongs to Spiller.
Please remember that authors' only rewards are your comments, positive or negative. So please take a minute of your time to mail to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Often through our twenty years of marriage I have bitterly regretted that I ever fell in love with my wife - and that my love/hate emotions towards her still contain that element of love. If not, I'd have moved out the moment the kids left home to fend for themselves.
You may have guessed, that our sex-life is the BIG problem. Strangely enough she has always loved sex if it's done on her conditions: She on her back with closed eyes, legs slightly spread, five or ten minutes of 'handwork' and then when she says 'umph' a vigorous fucking with me on top until she comes with a little muffled scream, and then for me hopefully to get finished within half a minute or so. Anything else, and I mean ANYthing, is absolutely 'no,no', because it is dirty, perverted, no NICE people do it, etc.
Lonnie was brought up by her very religious mother. Her father was killed when she was only a year and a half old, and I feel sure, that the old hag secretly was happy about that, as she could collect a handsome monthly pension, she had social status being an officer's widow and single mother, and she was relieved of the tedious business of sex.
In this atmosphere Lonnie was indoctrinated with a distaste towards anything sex-related. It was the burden of "fine women", and she'd have to endure but never enjoy. And if on rare occasions she'd feel lust she would have to do her best to hide it and ask God's forgiveness later.
When my 45th birthday was coming around I had more or less given up on her. I realised, that since she had lived 42 years and still adamantly refused to talk about our relationship, the chances of a change were minimal. For the last 6 months we hadn't had any sex at all, because I had grown sick and dead tired of her attitude, and as long as I didn't initiate any sex she was happy, and nothing would happen.
I decided to give it one last try before I left her, and I booked a session with dr. Winther, a well known local psychologist, to see if he could give me some advice. A marriage counsellor was completely out of the question as Lonnie wouldn't dream of going. I poured out all my thoughts to dr. Winther, and waited full of hope for him to turn up with some good advice, and it was atrue 'downer' when he said:
- Mr. Alcott. I'm sad to say there is not much hope that the situation can be changed. I might call in your wife for some talks, but her condition is so well rooted in her mind, that all you'd get out of it was a heavy bill and status quo. I have tried something similar a few times, and sad to admit: I have failed.
I'm sure he could read my disappointment on my face long before I reacted to his answer.
- The only possible solution would be to sort of bypass her upbringing. Hypnosis is a possibility, but that is not my line. Can I rely on your discretion?
- Of course. I wouldn't bite a helping hand, would I?
- You see, the problem is that I can get into serious trouble if I recommend some unqualified person to you. It's considered professionally unethical, and if I told you that dr. Arthwell might help you I should violate that rule. Dr. Arthwell is not a psychologist. He's a medical doctor with a special training in hypnosis, and I know that he has had some satisfactory results.
- I'd never tell anybody, if you told me so.
- OK, Mr. Alcott. I'm sorry I could not help you, and I shall not bill you for this short session. But please let me know, if you obtain results. You know, just to satisfy my curiosity.
- I shall, dr. Winther. And thank you for your understanding.
I found dr. Arthwell in the yellow pages, and a week later I was scheduled for an interview in his clinic.
Well, Mr. - he looked down on his calendar - Mr. Alcott. What can I do for you?
- That is a question I ask myself. You see, I come here on the advice of one of your colleagues.
- Oh, I say. That doesn't happen too often. And on whose advice, if I may ask?
- Dr. Winther suggested, that you may help me.
And then I poured out my heart's trouble over the next five minutes, while dr. Arthwell was listening intensely.
- I see why dr. Winther has declined you. And why he thinks I can help you. By the way I'll have to make this a short summary of the possibilities, because my next patient is scheduled in 15 minutes.
- I'll listen.
In short he told me that dr. Winther was right. Lonnie's condition was so deep-rooted, that chances of therapy bringing her out of it were sparse. If she herself felt anger towards her mother and was unhappy about her present situation, help might be had from psychotherapy. But alas. Under the influence of hypnosis it might be possible to block out some of her inhibitions for certain periods of time, and then we might hope for her natural sexiness to take over. To that end I must be prepared for a period of turmoil as Lonnie might feel very much in doubt about herself, and when her transformation began she'd need all my support.
- There are a few risks to this procedure, and you'll have to consider them seriously.
- Hypnosis is not like an operation. We may have results spanning from a slightly bettered condition, to something you wished for, or even further to a behaviour you didn't expect and may not like.
- What do you mean?
- Your wife may shed more inhibitions than you imagine, or she may only shed a few. And she may shed just the amount you want.
- In plain English?
- She may get more horny, than you can handle.
- I'll take that risk.
- And the second problem is getting her here at all. Does she have a medical condition that troubles her and that might bring her here?
- She is a bit troubled by headaches that hit her at the most inconvenient times.
- OK. Next time she has one tell her that you have heard of me, and that I have helped a lot of people with hypnotherapy.
- That's a fine idea.
- And then be prepared for a rather steep bill. It takes time, and I'm running a risk doing unqualified therapy, and I have to calculate that risk into my prices.
- I don't wonder. Well, I can afford it, and if it helps it will be worth it. At least it's my last try at saving my marriage.
- OK, mr. Alcott. You call my office and book a session when you have convinced your wife, that she needs treatment.
I left dr. Arthwell's office feeling much better and with a tinge of hope. And luck was following me, as Lonnie was struck by a severe headache right after supper that evening. This gave me the opportunity to bring up the subject of hypnotherapy. Her condition being that pills only brought her a minor relief from her pains, she was in a receptive mood and asked:
- Do you really think it helps?
- I don't know for sure, but I read an article somewhere, that after a few treatments a lot of people felt much better, and quite a few were cured.
- That sounds too good to be true.
- I'll see what I can find out, dear. You go to bed and let's see if a good night's sleep will make you better.
Friday when I got home from work a bit early, I told her that I'd found a doctor who might help her. I told her that dr. Arthwell was a medical doctor and that he only used hypnotherapy on rare cases.
- Did you talk to him?
- Yes. I told him that your headaches come and go randomly, and that we have not been able to trace the reason. It's not food or stress or anything like it.
- No, I really don't know what causes it.
- He didn't promise a complete cure, but he'd work on you a few times, and then he said, that maybe some of the modern painkillers might help you better.
- Well, I'll give it a thought. You didn't book a consultation, did you?
- Actually I did. I booked you for an appointment next Friday afternoon, but he told me I could cancel it, if I called Monday morning.
Over the weekend she had another headache, and the cancellation was not brought up again. I could hardly wait for Friday to come.
- Hello, Ms. Alcott. And welcome. Your husband briefed me shortly on your problems with headache, but I'd rather you told me yourself.
- Well, yes. These bad headaches hit me right out of the blue. Sometimes not so bad, and at other times violently uncomfortable - and my painkillers only dull the pain, they can't make it disappear.
- And you can't see a pattern of some kind?
- Absolutely not. It can be a fine day, a bad day or just your run of the mill day. Morning, noon and night. What I have eaten has no influence. I'm really without a clue.
- Seems to me, you MAY have a mix of conditions, that sometimes work together, and sometimes don't. Before you leave, my nurse will measure your bloodpressure and take a few blood samples for further analysis. The tests are used for help with the diagnoses and for finding the right medication. For now I want to feel your neck and the top of your spine. Will you please go behind the screen and take off your coat and blouse and put on the white housecoat instead?
.... There is more of this story ...