The Sex Therapist
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2012 by Priapus

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A young couple is recommended to a sex therapist for pre-marital counseling. The psychiatrist has unusual methods for improving the long-term success of their marriage.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Mult   Romantic   Mind Control   Hypnosis   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Wife Watching   Spanking   Swinging   Gang Bang   Group Sex   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Public Sex  

In the real world of late morning Rebecca lay nude on her belly on her rumpled bed; her fingers whipping her fragrant juices into a froth of sexual desire as she feverishly worked her throbbing clit. She amplified, repeated and redrafted the last night's reverie into a crushing, shuddering cascade of orgasmic quakes, and a final rolling, thunderous climax that dragged her back into unconsciousness.

The young woman awoke for the second time, spread lewd and naked on her back after nearly an hour of dreamless, exhausted sleep. She was surprised at herself in so many ways.

Normally an early riser, no matter how late she worked or partied, the clock on the dresser now showed past noon. She almost never had erotic dreams and that night she had more than she could remember.

She rarely masturbated and typically felt guilt and shame after bringing herself to, at best, a marginal climax. She had just brought herself to a toe-curling, mind-shattering orgasm and felt nothing but contentedness.

She never stayed naked for long, quickly covering with a towel after showers and not uncovering unless she could quickly dress.

Her mother, left a young widow by her father's death in Afghanistan, turned to fundamentalist values in her grief and taught Rebecca to repress her sexuality in every way. Her mom met Rebecca's step-father two years after her father's death through a Bible study session at their Church. He was studying to be a minister, so the home environment became even more repressive after her mother and step-father had three young daughters of their own.

Now Rebecca made no effort to cover herself as she rolled languidly off the bed and stood next to the full-length mirror on her closet door. Quite the opposite, for perhaps the first time since she reached puberty, she spent time lovingly admiring her sensuous naked form, taking pride in her slim, toned figure and soft, smooth skin.

Instead of worrying about her breasts being too small, as she usually did, she marveled at how firm they were, and how pointy and hard her nipples got when she was excited, as she was now.

Instead of thinking her legs were scrawny and gawky, she admired how long and lean they seemed. She even thought her feet and toes looked graceful and elegant, and this was typically an area of her body that she kept covered with socks, closed-toed shoes, or hid under things when she thought that people might see.

She turned away from the mirror and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. Rebecca knew she was similar to other women in that she always hated her ass. Too small compared to some, too large compared to others, too round compared to most.

In the past she hadn't found anything worthwhile about her backside, but as she adopted a series of poses in the mirror--on tiptoe, legs together, legs apart, one foot on the bed to spread her cheeks and unashamedly fingering her own puckered opening—she was happy and excited with what she saw, as though looking at herself with new eyes.

What was most surprising to the young woman was the part of the dream where she had been exposed to other men. It had excited her, thrilled her deeply. So much so that just thinking about it again, fantasizing about it again, was making her wet, and giving her an erotic warm need in her belly.

She never would have let herself admit that type of feeling before, but for some reason she felt much more confident and comfortable in her own body, and with her own sexuality, since the therapy session with Andrew and Dr. Carter.

Rebecca checked the clock again. Andrew said he was going to pick her up in a little over an hour so they could go clothes shopping. She was excited about getting a new wardrobe. Her old clothes fit her body but didn't fit her new self-image. She wanted clothes that were more revealing, more enticing, more sexually adventurous. Andrew deserved to be with someone more confident, and, more importantly, she needed to feel more deserving and attractive herself.

Saturday mornings the three-bedroom apartment she shared was typically empty. Her roommate Stephanie spent most of her free time with her boyfriend, and they always stayed at his apartment over the weekend. Stephie had the master bedroom with the deluxe multi-jet, surrounding showerheads in the bathroom, and Rebecca always preferred that to the tub & shower combination in the second bathroom that she shared with Juliet.

Juliet was an ER nurse, and worked long shifts that typically didn't bring her home until Saturday evenings. Rebecca at one time had relished the long time alone she could have on Saturdays. Her childhood home had become really busy with her mother and step-father, her three much younger sisters and her all living together in the same two bedroom house that was her natural father's only valuable possession. She'd put on her long flannel robe and fluffy slippers and read or do college homework by herself in the living room until it was time for her Saturday night shift at the steakhouse.

But that sense of freedom in solitude didn't last too many weekends and increasingly she found that time alone felt lonely. Her new routine on Saturdays took her to the gym before seven am, to the college library in the morning, and then out to lunch with Andrew before starting her evening shift. Every so often, like tonight, she'd swap her lucrative Saturday night shift with another server so that she could have a special date night, but even on those days she'd rarely hang around the apartment past 8 or 9 in the morning.

It was almost 1pm now, and Rebecca put on the nappy flannel robe and ragged slippers, simply out of habit, for the walk to the master bathroom. She glanced back into the mirror and grimaced. The sexy, attractive woman that she had seen in the mirror just a short time earlier had been replaced by a frumpy hausfrau.

Casting off the robe and kicking off the slippers she was gloriously naked again, and could feel the sexual energy electrically recharging her waning self-confidence. Determined to preserve this new feeling of empowerment, she wadded up the robe and slippers in a ball and strode confidently in the buff out through the living room and into the kitchen.

With a quick glance out the kitchen window to make sure that the service road behind the apartment building was empty of the neighborhood kids that sometimes played there, she opened the door, stepped out on the back deck, lifted the lid of the garbage can and assertively disposed of the outdated symbols of her former, timid self.

Only after the wad of material hit the bottom of the empty container with a soft thud did Rebecca remember that she left her diary in the robe pocket. A surge of irrational fear gripped her over the accidental disposal of her record of the past several years of deepest thoughts and most secret feelings. She had to retrieve it!

Letting go of the doorknob she grabbed the rim of the large, wheeled plastic bin, tilting it toward her and reaching down into it. The can was too deep and she could not reach the robe. She had no choice but to lay the can down on its side on the raised wooden deck and, crouching down on hands and knees, carefully crawl into the container to retrieve her journal. She was never as glad as at this moment that Stephie absolutely required that all kitchen and bathroom garbage be double-bagged before disposal, since that rigidly enforced policy kept the inside of the heavy container clean and dry.

With a gasp of relief she located the treasured book, and as her fingers grasped the smooth leather of the cover, her moment of adrenalin over the possible loss of her diary faded. With a clearer mind she suddenly realized that she was outside her apartment, completely nude, with her ass sticking lewdly out of a nearly empty garbage can. She started to scramble backwards and out, glad in her memory that the service road had been deserted.

Careful not to touch the sides of the bin, Rebecca was almost out when she heard a sound that sent another shock of adrenalin shooting through her system.

 
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