Author Topic: Abuse of Authority: Emily's Story - A Collaboration of Vile8r and Brokenwing  (Read 4815 times)

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May 06, 2017, 07:33:10 PM

Offline vile8r

WARNING!  You must be 18 or over to read these stories. There will be portrayals of rape and non-consensual sexual situations. This particular story features characters under the age of 18.  If you do not like such stories, please stop reading. This story is all fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places or situations is purely coincidental. If you do not understand the difference between reality and fantasy, read no more. Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison. The people who commit rape are despised everywhere. No one is being hurt, and this is pure fantasy.

Abuse of Authority: Emily's Story

An original collaboration by Vile8r and Brokenwing



Joanna Lind looked over at her daughter, Emily, sitting on the passenger side of the car.

“I still don’t think you realize how lucky you are…….how goddamned lucky!”

“Mom, will you please shut the hell up, okay?” the pretty, blonde-haired teen retorted.

“No!” the older woman said, angrily. “I certainly will not shut up! I am going to remind you every day until I get tired of it, of how you almost threw your life away!”

“They didn’t charge me, mom!” Emily shrieked, folding her arms across her chest and looking out the window. “So give it a rest!”

“But they could have,” Joanna spat. ”I had to pay damn good money…..money I had to borrow…..to hire a lawyer who, thankfully, was able to do a plea with that district attorney! They were sending you to jail, Emily! Jail!  You don’t know how close you came to not being here! How close you came to ending up in juvey for the next four years and having a criminal record you’d have to live with for the rest of your life!”

Emily didn’t reply, just stared out the window.

Joanna still shuddered thinking about that night when she had gotten a call from the police, that she had to come down to the station. Her daughter, her fourteen year-old daughter, had been arrested for car theft and trying to evade police! It was every parent’s nightmare. And especially when the DA had informed her, Emily would be charged with grand theft auto and evading police- felony offenses.

All because she had climbed into a stolen car with her stupid, irresponsible friends. Joanna never had liked Emily’s friend, Carmen. She’d always felt Carmen was a very bad influence on her daughter.

Well, Joanna smirked to herself, Carmen was getting her just dessert! The young teen and her boyfriend were both off to jail for a while. Carmen got a four year sentence in juvey. She wasn’t getting out until she turned 18, and her boyfriend Vincent, well he turned 18 in two months!

He was tried as an adult and he was off to state prison for the next 10 years, seeing as how he had two priors!

Joanna felt a little sorry for the two young people, but on the other hand, they’d done it to themselves. It was sheer luck she was able to get a loan from her boss and some friends to hire a good lawyer who managed to get the charges reduced on Emily. It also helped this was Emily’s first run-in with the law. It had better be her last!

Now today, Joanna was taking Emily to see a psychologist. Dr. Tanner Van Doren. He had been highly recommended by Emily’s school counsellor, Mr.Jones. She knew Emily had some problems, in the last year and a half, she had become increasingly rebellious and hostile to Joanna. Also very withdrawn and  subject to horrible mood swings. Moreso than just the usual teenage bitchiness. Hopefully this new doctor could help.

Joanna knew it had been tough for Emily since the divorce. It had been three years ago, since Joanna’s husband, Clark, just up and left them. He had always been a heavy drinker and physically and mentally abusive to Joanna. He had a very short temper. He told Joanna, she and Emily were smothering  him and he needed to get away and live his own life.

Joanna didn’t even know where he was anymore. He just up and disappeared. He never called Emily or made any attempts to contact her.
It had been hard on Emily who was only 11 at the time. She missed her father, but was at the same time, angry at him for what he’d done to their family. Emily had been an only child and had always been the apple of her father’s eye. Now it seemed like he had just abandoned her.

Seeing the psychologist had also been part of Emily’s plea bargain. The judge gave her a year’s probation, as well as a pile of community service. While school was still in, she had to put in eight hours a week, which would last for the next three months. During school breaks and when summer vacation started, it would be twenty hours a week.  When school started in the fall, it would go back to the eight hours a week.

Joanna had already talked to Dr. Van Doren. He had asked for two sessions a week, one hour per session. And that was a ‘minimum’, he said. After he talked to Emily for a bit, he said, and became more familiar with her ‘issues’, he may ask for more.

Joanna knew it was going to be a huge burden on her, hauling Emily around for all this, but she’d talked to her boss and he was quite co-operative with giving her time off. Joanna’s sister, Karen, and her mom, had also said they’d help with giving Emily rides.

The Dr. Edwin Foster Professional Building. That was where Dr. Van Doren’s offices were. The large ten-story building came up on the east side of GlenPark Avenue. Joanna wheeled in off the street and down into the underground parkade.

She pulled into a parking spot and shut the car off.

“Well, Emily, we’re here! Let’s go meet Dr. Van Doren.”

“Oh yes, the excitement is killing me,” Emily said, rolling her eyes, as she climbed out of the passenger side.


May 07, 2017, 01:35:46 AM
Reply #1

Offline brokenwing

I couldn't believe this was happening to me.  How did I get myself into this mess?  Why did I let Carmen convince me to go for that joyride with her boyfriend Vincent and his friend Jose?  But the judge was right, even though when I first got into the car I didn't know it was stollen.  But by the time we stopped at the fast food restaurant and I realized the front driver's side window of the car was missing I should have figured it out and not gotten back into the car when the police cruiser pulled into the parking lot of the fast food restaurant.  But Vincent yelled for all of to get into the car and to hurry.  I hesitated seeing the police cruiser turning into the parking lot, but Vincent, Jose and Carmen got in quickly and Carmet yelled at me again, "Get in the damn car Em, hurry up."

Vincent through the car into gear and spun the tires a little driving out of the parking lot turning onto the street.  Before I knew it we were accelerating onto the entrance ramp to the highway.  We all could have gotten killed in the police chase sometimes going over 100 miles an hour on the highway.  We could have killed someone completely innocent in a car accident at those speeds.

I cannot find the words to describe how it felt to be ordered out of the car at gun point, made to lie down in the gravel on the side of the road wearing short shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top and flip flops.  Then to be handcuffed and put into the back of a police car each of in a separate car.  My knees, forearms and belly scraped up by the gravel when the police officer pinned me to the ground to cuff me.  He used his weight in the small of my back to pin me down.  I was terrified and it hurt quite a bit.

I had no form of identification.  They asked my name multiple times like I was lying.  I told them the same name and address multiple times, Emily Lind.  The must have asked me three different ways how old I was, my date of birth and when was my birthday.  I answered with the same information each time.

But there I was in juvenile court at fourteen years of age.  The prosecutor having told my mom that they could have charged me as an adult for grand theft auto and fleeing the police.  She was furious at me because she had to pay for an attorney.  She had to borrow money from her boss at work and her friends.  

But they had decided to not charge me as an adult, or to send me to juvenile hall.  But I had to agree to my mother's demands.  Through my counselor,  Mr. Jones at school, I was committed to a minimum of two one hour sessions a week with a psychologist, a Doctor Van Doom or something like that.  Apparently Mr. Jones had recommended him and like I said I had to attend "a minimum" of two days a week for a whole hour, meaning the psychologist could determine if I needed to attend more or even daily sessions.  He also could require the sessions be extended to up to four hour sessions.

I was on probation and should I fail to comply with the requirements set by my new psychologist he could send me to juvenile hall until my eighteenth birthday.  My sentence also required eight hours of community service weekly during the school term and twenty hours a week during school breaks and summer.  

I hadn't even met the man and I felt like his bitch.  My mother went along with this because she had recently found out I had been skipping school.  She also found some new clothes in my room that she didn't purchase.  She asked where I had gotten the money from and I just did my best to shrug it off.  I tried convincing her I had gotten a piece of clothing from one friend and another from a different friend.  She was highly suspicious but did not guess how I truly had gotten the clothing.

I had always been a terrible liar.  I could hide the truth but if confronted with it, the truth was written on my face, the fact both my chest and face turned bright red when I was lying didn't help either.  But fortunately she did not guess the source of my new clothing, I had shop lifted them.  Beside joy riding my fairly new friend Carmen had taught me the skill of how to get new clothes for nothing.  Trying them on in the store dressing room underneath what you had worn into the store.  And my skills were improving.  But fortunately shoplifting wasn't one of my mom's guesses.

But here I was in the backseat of mom's car as she pulled into the parking lot of the building for my court ordered appointment with my new psychologist Dr Van Doran I think it was but to me it was Dr. Van Doom.

My mom put the car in park and said, "Well, Emily, we’re here! Let’s go meet Dr. Van Doren.”

“Oh yes, the excitement is killing me,” I replied, rolling my eyes, as I got out of the passenger side.  Part of me was tempted to take off and run.  Who was this "Doctor"?  Did he think he was my father or something?  I really didn't want my mother to go up to his office with me but I probably wouldn't have entered the office if she hadn't walked me there.

I had worn black spandex leggings, a light blue spandex belly shirt with short sleeves and a scoop neckline, but my belly shirt was covered by my Springfield U oversized grey sweatshirt that was large enough to come to mid thigh, it had belonged to my father until he left when I grabbed it from the laundry room before it could have been washed.  I never put it on without a shirt under it and wouldn't let mom wash it as I could still smell my father in it.  I finished my outfit with one blue and one white ankle sock, giggling to myself I had another pair just like it as well as my blue converse sneakers.

When I wasn't wearing the sweatshirt I keep it hidden in my room, under my bed in a duffle bag I had my barbies in.  As long as I kept my barbies in the bag my mother didn't bother it and I hadn't played with them in years.  That duffle bag was my favorite hiding place for anything I didn't want my mother to know about.

As she opened the door to the office with his name on it, "Dr. Van Doran, PHD, Doctor of Psychology" I felt chills run down my spine.

I knew things were going to be different I just had no idea how different.

May 07, 2017, 10:51:59 AM
Reply #2

Offline brokenwing

I was asked to sign in by a well dressed lady when we went into the office but she did not stay once she handed my mother a clipboard of forms to fill out.  I was horrified of talking to this complete stranger, psychologist or not, let alone in front of my mother.  We sat in the waiting area a little less then fifteen minutes before an inner door opened and a tall man walked into the room.

I was a bit surprised by his appearance.  He was tall and appeared athletic and I was confident he was at least two or three times my age.  But I never would have expected him to be athletic like a jock but he had broad shoulders and a thick chest.  His belly looked to be flat and likely chiseled and his waist thin.  He appeared to be in excellent shape.

I wasn't sure how I felt about the idea of seeing this "Doctor".  I'm not sure the school counselor had noticed that I did my best each semester to alter my classes so that I had as many female teachers as possible.  But Dr. Van Doom, my new nickname for him, didn't look or dress like any of the male teachers in the halls of the high school.  His clothing fit him very well as if it were made or altered by a tailor.  His shoes held a high reflective shine.  He was groomed immaculately, every hair in place and even his fingernails appeared to me manicured.  He could be an older male model in magazines or a Hollywood actor.

I was very surprised he introduced himself to me first, before my mother and his handshake was very firm and oddly domineering.  He reached his hand to me to shake hands but once I presented my hand he not only took hold of my hand firmly with his right hand, his left hand was placed over the back side of my hand as well.  As he introduced himself to me he also said a few pleasantries all while holding onto my hand and not in a quick way but in a steady way he seemed to pull me forward towards him just enough to pull me up onto my tip toes and at the verge of losing balance yet he also seemed to know not to pull me any further.

But it was like he could sense my balance point because once I was pulled up onto tip toe the pull stopped and seemed to hold me at the edge of balance with incredible strength and control.  It was the strangest sensation.  I should also mention that at all of five foot and one half inch he towered over me especially in the flat converse sneakers I had worn.  I introduced myself to him as "Em" the nickname most of my friends from school called me and the name I knew my mother detested.

Once he finished introducing himself to me he introduced himself to my mother.  I noticed that even as he spoke with my mother he glanced in my direction many times seeming to watch me and I felt myself fidget and squirm where I was standing feeling very watched. 

I was very relieved when he explained to my mother he would be meeting with me alone.  After they reviewed sone of the paperwork she filled out he told her she could pick me up in two hours.

I think it caught her as off guard as it did me.  While the judge had indicated the doctor had authority to extend or add additional sessions it was surprising he seemed to have already decided to meet with me for two hours this first time rather then one. 

I had fully anticipated my mother would sit in the waiting area and try to eaves drop from the waiting area but when he indicated that the session would be two hours she seemed caught off guard and said she would go run a few errands.  I felt a bit of relief but also apprehension that I would be completely alone with this man I had just met while relieved she had decided to not listen at the door.

The final surprise for that introduction came when he excused us to his office, he placed a hand firmly in the small of my back and I was a bit taken off guard as he took firm but not too hard hold of one wrist and using his other hand in the small of my back quickly ushered me into his office.

Once we both were inside he stopped for a moment, released me and closed the door with two hands.  I'm not sure I had ever noticed the sound of a door closing like I did that door, it sounded heavy and solid.  It was almost like I could feel the sound of the door pushing into the door frame. 

The one good thing that did for me is that it left me pretty confident that even should my mother stand directly in front of the door she likely could not hear a word spoken on the other side of it.  Once the door was closed he once again took hold of my wrist with one hand and place his other in the small of my back again very obviously guiding me to a large long sofa.

Even the length of the seat from the back of the sofa to the front edge seemed longer than any other sofa I had ever seen.  If I sat with my back firmly against the back of the sofa I could not bend my legs at the knees to push my feet to the floor without pulling my lower back and bottom away from the back of the sofa as the length of the seat came to mid calf. 

The width of the sofa also seemed extra ordinarily long.  I was pretty sure I could lie on the sofa without my feet or head touching either arm of the sofa at the same time.

He guided me to one end of the sofa and because of the length of the seat I immediately folded my legs on the sofa under me.  He quickly corrected me letting me know that if I was going to put my feet up on the sofa I should remove my shoes.

I did so feeling myself blush when I knew I had exposed what I had thought was funny when I put on the mismatch socks. 

He then adjusted a heavy chair directly in front of where he had seated me seemingly an arms length away and our first session began. 

I saw him pick up what looked to be a television remote control, press a few buttons and I thought I heard a heavy "click" come from the direction of the door we had just walked through.  Unless I was mistaken the door was now locked where no one could enter.  And I couldn't help wonder if that also meant I also could not run out.

May 07, 2017, 04:01:51 PM
Reply #3

Offline gscmar64

Two Of the best authors deliberately writing a story what can possible go wrong for the lead character!

May 09, 2017, 08:33:48 AM
Reply #4

Offline brokenwing

The first few minutes in his office were nothing like I would have imagined.  As he spoke he spoke in a low deep tone.  It was uncomfortable how close he placed his chair and sat across from me.  He had what appeared to be one of those heavy, expensive leather bound notebooks and I could smell the leather or maybe it was from the chair he sat in.  

His questions started with simple things like my name, age, place of birth, where I went to school, the grade I was in and the classes I was taken.  

It had been my plan to talk and reveal as little as possible but even about the most simple thing, like my name, when I answered I found myself rambling because he let silence hang in the air. So after telling him "Emily" I added, "and my friends call me Em" and then he'd ask simple follow ups like if I liked the nickname Em so it would get me to talk and ramble even more.

While I talked his eyes were locked onto me, but not just on my eyes but my entire body.

I had found that most people, especially adults listened to what I had to say as little as possible.  My mother typically wouldn't let me finish a statement before interrupting me, but not Dr. Van Doran.  He listened to every word and watched me to the point that it felt like he saw every movement, muscle tense and everything else.

In a way I felt like a laboratory specimen in one of my science classes.  

I cannot say before that day any human, even people I called friends ever listened to every word I said.  And I could tell he was hearing and paying close attention because he would ask questions about the most obscure detail.  

He would watch me for every moment I spoke and sometimes wrote things in his notebook I think like names of teachers or friends I said.  When he asked follow up questions he would use some of the names I had mentioned.

No one ever in my life listened to every detail of what I said or watched my body like he did.  

The longer it went on the stranger it felt.  I felt more and more like the animals in our science class.  

At first it made me extremely self conscious and embarrassed.  But as we continued to talk and he'd ask me questions it kept changing how I felt.

Suddenly we were in a discussion about if I thought I was pretty, beautiful or sexy.  He would ask me to define each word.  Ask me what I thought any of the people I had mentioned thought of me.  

He asked me about my mis matched socks.  He had me admit I had done it on purpose then explain why.  He surprised me by asking me if I'd take them off.  I'm not sure why but I did.

He asked me about what I thought about how my hands looked, my finger nails, if I liked to put nail polish on them.  He asked about my feet, if I liked them, their size and how they looked.  He asked did I like to paint them with nail polish.  Before long I was telling him every girlfriend whom had ever done my nails and who's nails I had done.

I went from intending not to talk to talking about the most random things.  And again after every question he'd let me talk and watch me.  He didn't interrupt me once.  Sometimes the pause was so long I'd start talking again without a question.  

He would go back and forth from one topic we talked about to another topic then back to the first.  

We talked about if I felt pretty and then my finger nails.  Then we'd talk about beautiful and then my favorite toe nail polish color.  Then we'd talk about if I thought I looked sexy.

He came back to sexy a few times asking me if boys thought I looked sexy.  Then we'd talk about what I'd eaten for lunch that day.  Then he'd ask if I ever felt sexy.  

At one point he pointed out to me that I was sweating.  He asked me why, if I was nervous or why I thought I was feeling warm.  I told him I thought it was hot in his office and he apologized and said the stupid the air would change in the building unexpectedly.

We talked about how I liked to wear my hair and he then caught me by surprise when he suggested since I was warm I could take off my sweatshirt.

Without thinking really I did so pulling it up and off forgetting for a few minutes I was in my spandex blue belly shirt with the swoop neckline.  Not something I had planned or anticipated him seeing me in.

But I was so caught up in the back and forth conversation I don't think about what I was wearing for several minutes.

After more conversation about school classes he asked me if I thought I looked sexy in my blue shirt.

I answered quicker then I wish I had admitting it made me feel sexy.

But when he saw me blush and look uncomfortable he told me it was good and normal for girls like me to feel sexy.

He asked me how I felt about my eyes and my hair then we talked about the fact I hated and wasn't good with math.

Then he once again caught me off guard asking me if I liked the appearance, size and shape of my breasts.  

The subject changed to the fact I didn't play any sports in school and we discussed that I didn't feel athletic enough to play sports and then to my surprise he asked me if I liked that my nipples were visible in my shirt.

Once again I felt self conscious and couldn't help looking at my own chest and didn't think they were visible earlier but he was right they definitely were now.  

When I hesitated in saying I liked that they were visible he talked about how nipples are just another part of a person's anatomy and that they should not be the cause of shame.

He then asked me what I thought of women breast feeding their babies in public.  After a short political discussion on breast feeling in public he caught me completely off guard asking me if I ever stimulated my breasts or nipples to feel good.  

I know I really blushed then.

But he didn't back off and talked about that most people self stimulated and masturbated and it was a natural and normal thing to do.  

Once again he changed to the discussion of my love for art class and we talked about that for a little while.  He then asked me if I ever did portraits which I admitted I had.  He then asked had I drawn or painted women which I also admitted I had.  And then he asked me when I had drawn or painted women had I also drawn or painted their breasts and nipples.

I admitted to having painted breasts on women but not gotten so detailed to make visible nipples.

Once again he got me talking about my own nipples and got me to admit that although I thought they looked funny I thought they were sexy.  

He then asked me if I touched them before and I admitted I had and he assured me that it was okay and normal especially for girls like me to do so. He asked me if I liked how it felt to touch them.  After sitting there squirming a few minutes I admitted I did.

Then he went a direction I had not expected and asked me if anyone else had ever touched them.

The room went silent and I hid my face.

We sat in silence me hiding my fave for what felt like a long time.

He finally broke the silence asking me if it was unwanted touching.

Again there was a long pause for silence.

He told me it was okay and then changed the subject to physical education class which I hated.

I was thankful he changed the subject.

This was the deepest, most private conversation I had ever had with anyone.  While I had intended to talk as little as possible I had already mistakenly admitted to one of my private secrets.  

I cried a little and it wasn't until we were talking about physical education class I realized his chair was inches from the sofa and he had one hand on my shoulder and one on my knee.

It was odd to me when I realized he had placed his hands on me and it didn't freak me out.  

There was something about him.  His soft spoken tone, his deep voice.  His strong physique.  I felt pretty comfortable there with him.

The room felt much colder now and his hands felt warm when on my shoulder or knee.

He once again surprised me telling me my breasts and nipples were beautiful and sexy.  

That felt so strange.  What felt more strange was I'd felt myself arch my back a little sitting up straight like my mother often told me to do so he could see my chest better.  His hand rubbed on my shoulder when I did.  Then he very slowly and gently pushed me back until my back was leaning against the back of the sofa.  

He told me to just relax a moment and close my eyes, which I did.

He removed his hand from my shoulder sat back in his own chair and then said, "Beautiful" then after a sort pause said softly "Sexy."

He told me to keep my eyes closed but then asked me if I liked how I looked in the leggings.  I admitted I did.  He asked me if I thought boys liked how they looked on me and again I agreed.  

He took firm hold of my legs and straightened them out forward.  Since I was leaning back on the sofa with my hips farther forward my knees could bend at the end of the sofa.  

Once he had me straight we talked more about math class and why I thought I struggled.

As we were chatting I could feel him place a hand softly on each knee.  We continued to talk about arithmetic, division, multiplication and as we did I felt his hands slowly but gently push my knees wider apart.

I was a little nervous but I didn't object or stop him as slowly he pushed my knees wider apart.

The even more odd while the room felt even cooler the sofa under me felt very warm.  So my bottom, back and the back of my thighs felt warm my bare tummy and breasts felt cold.  

I felt so strange and unsure if this was wrong but I didn't stop it.  I just went with it talking to Dr. Van Doom.

May 10, 2017, 02:37:48 PM
Reply #5

Offline vile8r

Emily Lind! It was hard to believe she was only fourteen. Physically, she resembled a girl closer to eighteen or even twenty. Yet I could see in her eyes and her mannerisms, she was still a young girl! I would have to send my school counsellor friend, Bob Jones, a thank you. He did good with this ‘recommendation’.

Her wispy blonde hair, cute red lips, and slim, waifish body, along with her small budding breasts, just big enough to begin pushing out the sweatshirt she wore, made her a vision of teenage beauty.

She wore tight leggings, which helped show off her long, coltish legs.

This girl was special. Very special! 

I took hold of her wrist and placed my other hand in the small of her back. Her whole body stiffened, and I could tell, physical contact made her extremely nervous.  I guided her across my office and settled her down at one end of the giant leather couch.

I sat down in my chair and picked up my leather-bound notebook and Mont Blanc pen. I slid my chair close to the couch. I could see in her eyes she was a little uncomfortable, me sitting so close to her. But I liked doing that to patients. Made it easier to observe their body language.
“So tell me your name,” I said.

“You know my name,” she grumbled, not making eye contact. “It’s Emily.”

“How old are you Emily, and where were you born?”

There was no reply this time. I asked again. Reluctantly she told me she was 14, and had been born at a hospital not far from my office.
“Do you go by Emily, or do you shorten it up?”

“My friends call me Em.”

“Em, that’s kinda cool.”

“I guess,” she answered. “I like it better than Emily.”

“Why?”

“My mother calls me Emily all the time.”

“Oh, so Em is cooler?”

“Yeah!”

“Can I call you Em?”

“Sure, if it will make you happy.”

“It will,” I said.

I began a whole line of questions. I asked her where she went to school, what subjects did she like, who were her teachers, which ones did she like, which ones did she hate? What was her favorite subject?

I even asked about such obscure details like where did she sit in each class, and who sat near her? What was her favorite food in the cafeteria and who did she sit with during lunch?

Slowly, she began to open up to me, and I could tell, she was someone who didn’t get to talk much, and when she did, people didn’t listen to her. I sat, looking intently at her, hanging off each word, occasionally scribbling down a few notes, which really I didn’t need to do.

When I used my remote to lock the door, I had also hit a button which activated the several hidden video and audio recorders set around the office. They could pick up conversations and film what was going on, no matter where people were at in the room.

Emily fidgeted a lot on the couch and I knew why. I was staring at her, really couldn’t help myself. My eyes wandered all across her body and it wasn’t hard for her to see. It was partly intentional, but also partly because she was so damn pretty and I was finding it hard to pull my eyes away from her.
I finally asked her, “Am I making you uncomfortable looking at you?”

She shrugged and blushed.”Kinda.”

“I look at you, Em, because you’re a pretty girl. Don’t you think you’re pretty?”

“I guess I am,” she said, brushing some hair away from her face.

“Would you say you’re just pretty, or that you’re beautiful?”

“Don’t know about being beautiful….” She mumbled. “But some people might think it.”

“How about sexy? Would you say you’re sexy?”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Well, what do you mean by sexy?”

“What do you think I mean?” I answered back with a question. “In fact, tell me what you think the words, pretty, beautiful and sexy mean? To you?”

“Well, pretty is like someone who looks nice and dresses nice. And beautiful is like someone really, really pretty. And sexy…….I don’t know…….when the boys like you a lot…..like if you wear a short skirt to school. Is that right?”

My cock twitched a little at the image of seeing Emily in a little skirt.
“Em, it doesn’t matter if it’s right or not. It’s what you think, and that’s ALL that matters.”

I asked her what she thought some of the people at school thought of her. Her consensus was that most people thought of her as pretty.
I pointed at her mis-matched socks which I had noticed the moment she sat down.

“What’s with that?”

She giggled a little. I was surprised. It was the first laugh I had gotten from her.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I grinned.

She giggled again. “Yeah…..I did.”

“Just to be silly, right?”

“I guess,” she shrugged, brushing hair from her face again.
“Take them off.”

“My socks?”

“Yes. Be relaxed, pretend you’re at home.”

Giving me an odd look, she reached down and pulled her socks off. She had beautiful feet.
There followed a discussion about her feet, and it even got to the point where I was asking her what her favorite color of toenail polish was, and what her friends’ was too!

The next half hour or so was a mish-mash of conversation. I talked about everything with her. And she just babbled away, like I was the first person she’d talked to in ages. We covered all kinds of subjects and then I tried something.

Without pausing, I would just blurt out to her, “Do you think boys find you sexy, Em?”

Not even breaking a stride, she’d reply, “Yeah, I think so. But boys are like, so immature.” 

We’d talk for a little while again, and I’d throw another totally random question at her, “Em, do you feel like you’re sexy?”

She would be talking so much, she’d just answer it. “Yeah, I do sometimes.” And then pause as she suddenly realized what she’d just said, shrug, and go back to talking.

Then I pointed out to her she was sweating. I could see the perspiration beading on her forehead.

“Are you getting hot, Em? You’re not nervous, are you?”

“It is very warm in here, Dr. Van Doren.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I reached over to my remote and hit a button, turning on the air conditioning. “Is that better?”

“Oh yes, much better.”

After a few minutes, I looked at her and suggested, “You know, that sweatshirt is pretty heavy. You’d be cooler if you took it off.”

To my amazement, and pleasure, she replied, “Yeah, okay.”

She began pulling it up over her head, her lithe body stretching, and her back arching, as she slipped it off. Underneath, she was wearing an almost skin tight, blue spandex top. It hugged her small breasts like saran wrap, and had a swoop neck that even allowed a small bit of cleavage. It was short too, showing off her flat tummy and cute belly button.

As soon as she pulled her sweatshirt off, she looked down at what she was wearing and I noticed her face redden a bit. It appeared she didn’t really think about what she had been wearing underneath, but now that the sweatshirt was off, there was nothing she could do about it.


May 10, 2017, 05:16:12 PM
Reply #6

Offline gscmar64


May 11, 2017, 07:40:52 PM
Reply #7

Offline vile8r

To make her feel a little less self-conscious, I began asking her some more questions about school. She happily answered them, seemingly glad that attention was being diverted from her revealing clothing.

But it didn’t last long. After about five or six questions about school, I popped this question to her.

“Em, do you think you look sexy in your blue shirt?”

“Uhhh, yeah, I do,” she replied, and then cut herself short, saying no more, as if she suddenly realized she’d said too much , too quickly.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Em. It’s perfectly normal for a young woman your age to feel sexy.”

I got a smile from her, and she seemed to relax a bit more.

“What about your eyes? And your hair? Do you like them? Do you think boys like them?”

“I like blonde hair,” Em admitted. “Although sometimes, I wish it was a different color. Almost all my friends are blonde. And lots of people say I have nice eyes.”

I nodded and took a few notes, then changed the subject back to school.
But without warning, a few minutes later, I sprung another awkward question on her.
“Do you like your breasts, Em? Their shape, their size?”

Em glanced down at her breasts and then quickly back up. She shrugged and fidgeted.
“I don’t know. I mean, what can I do about them, if I didn’t like them? They’re part of my body, so I’m kinda stuck with them.”

“So you don’t like them?”

“No…..I do like them. Actually….of all my friends, I think I have the nicest ones”

I smiled, not saying anything back. To relieve her discomfort, I went back to school stuff.

“Looking at your file from school, I see you’re not involved in any after-school sports. No volleyball, or basketball, or swimming…..nothing.”
“I’m not an athletic person, “ Emily explained. “I have two left feet.”

“Would you like to be more athletic?”

“I don’t know, don’t really care. Sports seems kinda gay sometimes. I don’t like being told what to do.”

I paused for a minute, then casually asked, “ Do you like the fact your nipples are visible through your shirt?”

With a shocked look, Emily looked down again and turned red. She could see they were definitely showing through the thin spandex.
Emily didn’t say anything, but look a little shocked. I spoke to break the awkwardness.

“Nipples are just another part of your body. Not anything to get too embarrassed about.”

Emily seemed to relax, but her eyes still kept moving down to her chest.
“Do you think Em, that women breastfeeding their babies in public is right?”

It took the attention away from her, and for about the next fifteen minutes or so, she and I had quite a lively discussion about the subject.
But next, I decided to notch things up. “Do you ever play with your breasts or nipples, Em? Do you stimulate them to make yourself feel good?”
That really turned the embarrassment on. She turned a deeper shade of red. But I pressed the subject.

“A lot of people do it, you know? They self-stimulate themselves, they masturbate. It’s not an abnormal thing, in fact it’s very normal.”

This time, she surprised me with a question.
“Dr. Van Doran, why are you asking me all this weird stuff? This is not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” I said, raising an eyebrow. I sat up a little straighter in my chair. “And why are you here?”

“I’m here because I got in some trouble and I could have went to jail. So taking this counselling will make me be a better person…..so the judge said.”
“That’s what you think, eh” I smirked. “Well, you’re partly right. I am supposed to help you become a better person. But you see, in order to do that, I need to know what kind of person you are to begin with. And to do that, I have to dig down deep, to find out everything that I can about you, Emily, er, I mean, Em!”

“You need to know everything?” she asked.

“Everything!” I stated. “You are like an old house being renovated. That has to be torn down to nothing but the frame, and then rebuilt. I must do the same to you, Em. Your mother has noticed some severe changes in your personality, and to fix those will take a lot of work. You understand me, do you not? Now….I would really hate to report to your probation officer, that you are being uncooperative.”

Emily didn’t answer, and I switched back into talking about her school. I could see in her eyes, she was doing a lot of thinking about what I had just said.
“You told me earlier, you love art class. Tell me more.”

Em went into an explanation of how she loved art a lot, and loved drawing and painting.
“Do you draw portraits? Or just bowls of fruit?” I asked teasingly.

She said that she did draw portraits.

“Portraits of women?”

“Yes.”

“When you’ve done these portraits, do you ever draw their breasts or nipples?”

“I have,” she concurred. “Drawn breasts, that is. But I’ve never really did them very detailed, like with nipples and stuff.”

“I want to know, Em,” I said, leaning back and looking directly at her small perky nipples poking through her shirt. She knew I was looking at them, and this time I didn’t really care. “Although you’re a little embarrassed by your nipples, do you think they’re sexy?”

Emily didn’t say anything, but she did nod. I had the answer I wanted.

“Have you ever touched them?”
“Yes…..I have.”

“Well like I said before, that’s perfectly normal for young girls to do. It’s nothing to be worried about. Now…..did you like it?”

Emily took a deep breath, pushed a strand of hair away from her face and answered. “Yes. I did.”

I paused for a moment. My next question was going to be tough, I knew, and felt myself even a little aroused, anticipating what the answer might be.
“Has anyone else ever touched them?”

I knew I hadn’t touched the remote, but it seemed like instantly the temperature of the room dropped a few more degrees. It turned so quiet, you could have definitely head the proverbial needle drop.

Emily sat back on the couch and covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t crying, but just sitting there, covering her face. I let her sit like that for a couple minutes, although it felt like ten.
“Was it unwanted touching, Em?”

Still, she said nothing. I knew when to move on and this was the time. It would all come out eventually, but for now, I wasn’t going to force it.
I reverted to another discussion about her hatred for phys. ed in school. She sighed with relief, brought her hands down and began talking again.  The old Em was back. But her eyes were a little red and teary. I could see she had been starting to cry.

I slid my chair even a little closer while she was still covering her face. And now had one hand on her right shoulder and the other on her right knee. I was expecting a response, but she seemed to not mind it.

We talked for a few minutes more about sports and her apparent dislike of it.
The next thing I said , was not a question, but a statement.

“Em, just so you know, I think your breasts….and your nipples, are both beautiful and sexy!”

I don’t know what was going through her at that moment. I knew I was on risky ground, and she could react badly. I was gambling that she wouldn’t, and so far, I was being right.

To my surprise, she made a move I didn’t expect. She stretched and arched her back, allowing her small breasts to jut up even more on her chest. My heart jumped a few beats.

I rubbed her shoulder, as she did that. Then slowly and gently, pushed her back so she was completely against the back of the sofa. I took my hand away from her shoulder and repeated softly, in my strong, deep, yet relaxing voice. “Beautiful……sexy.”

Emily leaned back and she closed her eyes.
“That’s good, Em, just keep your eyes closed. And tell me, do you like how you look in your leggings?”

“Yeah, I like them.”
“Do you think boys like how they look too?”

“Yeah, they do.”

Then, becoming bolder, I took firm hold of her legs, just above her knees and pulled her legs out straight from her body, allowing her knees to bend at the edge of the sofa.

I told her to remain with her eyes closed, and once again we talked about school, this time moving to the subject of mathematics, which Emily had told me earlier, she struggled at. As she talked, and I listened, I moved both hands to her knees.
As we continued, I slowly pushed her knees wider apart, my eyes wandering down to the juncture of her thighs, noticing how the elastic fabric of her leggings stretched over her crotch. Emily didn’t know this, but the back and seat of the sofa were heated.

I hit a button on my remote to activate them. In a few seconds I knew she’d be feeling her legs and back getting warmer.
I felt myself jump as suddenly an alarm went off. It was my phone! Our session was over! Four hours had went by quicker than I thought. I took my hands off Emily’s knees and pushed my chair back.

“Well Emily….I guess that’s it……for today. I am very happy with all the stuff we talked about….I realize some of it was hard for you…..but please trust me….all of it is necessary! I just ask one thing.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“What we talk about in this office falls under a thing called patient/therapist confidentiality. That means you can’t talk to anybody about it, understand? Even your mother, or your probation officer. If your mother wants to know what we are talking about, you tell her to call me, and I’ll give her progress reports. Got that?”

Emily nodded and began to stand up from the sofa. “I imagine my mom’s probably here now to pick me up. I better go.”

She reached for the sweatshirt she had removed earlier, but I stopped her before she put it back on.
“Come here a minute Emily, before you leave.”

I took her by her hand over to a mirror on the far wall of my office. It was a full length mirror and we stood in front of it. Emily stood in front of me, her petite form dwarved, as I towered over her.

I looked at her in her black leggings, and skimpy blue top. Damn, she was so pretty. I took my strong hands and placed them around her slim waist, just below the bottom of her spandex top.

Immediately, she let out a low gasp and her body tensed.
“Just relax,” I whispered. The feeling of my hands on the warm, bare skin of her midriff was sensational.

I leaned down, pushing her soft blonde hair away from her left ear and whispering to her, “Remember, Em. You are a beautiful, sexy girl and it’s not anything to be ashamed about.”

Emily gave me a smile and a small nod. I took my hands away from her.

“So I guess……we’ll see each other on Friday, that’s your next appointment.”

May 14, 2017, 01:27:54 AM
Reply #8

Offline brokenwing

"So I guess……we’ll see each other on Friday, that’s your next appointment" he said after releasing his hands from around my waist. 

For a few moments I didn't move and I felt the cool air of the air conditioning rush back onto my bare belly and sides where his warm hands had encircled me.  I took another look at the two of us in the mirror and it was daunting to me that even though he stood directly behind me I could still see his entire face, the full length of his neck and even his shoulders and upper chest.  Of course I was standing there in my bare feet while he did have on shoes.  It took a tiny bit longer to notice that I could see each of the edge of his arms even though my arms hung down at my sides.

He was just physically imposing.  I couldn't help take one last look at my own chest.  My blue spandex shirt was a shirt that I liked to wear pretty often because it was very comfortable and the way it was gathered and sewn towards the base of my breast bone and how it was cut and sewn it held my breasts firmly without the need of a bra, but I had not ever warn it once without a blouse, sweater or sweatshirt over it because it exposed my entire midriff and didn't have any padding in the cups where my breasts were. 

It was almost like a t-shirt sports bra except it had sleeves.  They were short not even reaching my biceps but they did cover my outer shoulders and upper arms.

I took an extra moment to study the center of each breast.  Either today was different or I had never noticed how well defined the tight spandex showed the shape of my nipples.  But at least at that moment I was confident I could even see the bumps and outline of the pink circle surrounding my nipple. 

It felt to me like Dr. Van Doran could follow my eyes in the mirror and see what I was seeing.  I felt so self conscious but the crazy thing was the more self conscious I felt the more it seemed that even more detail was visible through the stretchy spandex.

I finally got the nerve to walk away from the mirror and went back to the sofa where my sweatshirt, socks and shoes were but any time I looked to see what the doctor was doing, he was doing what he had been doing for the last two hours, watching my every move.

I pulled my socks then shoes back on then got up and walked towards the door stopping just short of it. 

I didn't understand the emotions I was having at that moment, part of me wanted to run as fast as I could out of the door into my mother's arm, but she hadn't been the same mother who's arms I used to run into since the day my father left. 

Another part of me didn't want to put my sweatshirt back on yet and couldn't help just a tiny bit wishing once again he would take hold of my wrist, walk me once again to in front of the mirror and place his arms warmly around my waist. 

I hesitated another moment and then in a very soft voice asked a question I had been thinking about asking but until that moment had not summoned the courage, "That p patient th therapist con confidentiality thing you mentioned" I stuttered quietly but continued, "d does it um apply to you too"?  I asked but then went a bit farther, "I mean, does that mean the um things I um tell, um talk to you about, you um can't, uh won't tell my mom"?

I stood there not moving a muscle still having that curious little hope he would take my hand and take me back to in front of the mirror, but he didn't.

He answered my question in a manner I didn't feel I fully understood plus my mind was still thinking about looking in the mirror and I only heard a few words made it into my mind or memory, "...mother...progress reports...confidential."

I thought about asking him to repeat what he said but had the sudden desire, I'm not really sure why, to pull my father's sweatshirt up and on over my head.

I was glad it still held his familiar scent and the fact Dr. Van Doom touching it didn't take away the fragrance of my father.

I can't really explain why I felt tears well up in my eyes that moment and maybe it was those emotions that blocked me fully hearing the doctors reply to my confidentiality question.  I tilted my chin down towards my chest making my hair fall in my face, I didn't want him to see me cry. 

Just then I heard a loud, heavy sounding click and then Dr. Van Doran took hold of the door handle and opened the door for me.

My emotions once again changed and the moment I laid eyes on my mother I felt my body bolt from the office towards her.  I through my arms around her like I used to do when I was a little girl who believed her mother was the best mommy in the world.  But all my emotions were rewarded with a cold stiffness from my mother.  It took a few seconds before she moved her arms to wrap around me and even when she did he body was still stiff and her arms barely made contact with me where she placed them. 

A small part of me hoped Dr. Van Doran hadn't noticed or couldn't tell my mother's reaction but I knew better.  I pulled back from her quickly as if she was a hot oven and had burned me.  I walked as fast and deliberately to the outer door opened it and went through not waiting to see if she followed.  I knew she would eventually.  I somehow managed to find her car and leaned on it waiting for her. 

It took her long enough to get there I could only assume she talked to Dr. Van Doom. 

"Patient therapist confidence" I think it was.  "That means you can’t talk to anybody about it, understand?  Even with your mother, or your probation officer. If your mother wants to know what we are talking about, you tell her to call me, and I’ll give her progress reports. Got that?” I remembered him saying.

Who was he kidding?  I went to HIS office with the intention of not saying a word.  But I was stupid.  I couldn't manage that.  I talked like a little girl who had been asked to keep a secret and told anyone who might ask.

I had no desire to talk to my mother about our session, let alone the probation officer or the judge.  It felt longer then I hoped for her to come out to the car and that made me nervous.  She unlocked the car as she walked towards me.

The minute she got into the car and started it she started asking me questions to which I gave one word answers or just grunts.

"How did it go"?  She asked
"Fine"  I said quickly.

"Was he nice, polite and professional".
"Um hum."  I nodded and grunted to the affirmative.

"Did you talk to him" she paused for a moment, "about your problems"? 
"Sure!" I said as short as I could.

"Don't you want to talk about it now, with me"?  She asked.
"No" came quickly from my mouth.

"Fine, be like that." She pouted.

And that was the end of the conversation.  We shared little small talk the rest of the way home.

The minute I got home I went straight to me room.  I went at sat on my bed and decided to pull off my sweatshirt.  I immediately hugged it to my chest and buried my nose into the material smelling my father's scent in the shirt and it made me start to cry.

I held so much anger towards my mother for how she had been acting since my father left our family.  Neither of them gave me any explanation but I held her responsible for him leaving, mostly because it was only a few months after him packing his stuff and moving out before she started going out with men and even bringing them home to her bed.  And not too terribly long after that something unspeakable happened to me in my bedroom by one of her boyfriends.

What bothered me more then anything is my mother was so focused on going out and having fun she didn't notice that everything about me changed.  I no longer was the silly cute fun loving little girl.  I pushed away all my childhood friends and rarely left my room except to go to school and almost everyday came straight home from school and most days went to my room.  She never noticed.

So after I sat there on my bed and finished feeling sorry for myself I took a chance doing something I should have predicted the outcome of, I sent a text message to my dad:

Me:  "Hi Daddy, I miss you so much.  I wore your University sweatshirt today and it had me thinking of you.  Love you."

Several minutes of silence passed and I sat there all but holding my breath before I heard a text cone to my phone:

Dad:  "Love you too Emmy."

I sat there still hardly breathing staring at the phone, hoping.  Seconds passed, then minutes.  After almost a half hour I tossed my phone into my laundry basket, pretty confident landing in a pile of dirty clothes wouldn't break it.  It didn't break or chirp either with a new text message.

I got up off the bed and wandered aimlessly around my room a little until I walked by my closet with its sliding mirrored doors.  Out of the corner of my eye my blue spandex shirt caught my eye and I walked in front of the closet doors trying to stand the same distance from them as I stood from the mirror in the Doctor's office. 

In my imagination I pictured him standing behind me.  There was too much light in the room and it was too easy to tell that I was standing in my own room so I looked around my room thinking. 

It took a minute or two but on my desk I spotted my clip on desk lamp.  I had never been even close to mechanical so it took me a few minutes to figure out how to turn the little metal thingy to get the clamp to let go of the back edge of the desk.  I almost broke the bulb when I forgot to unplug the lamp and in a hurry to try my idea as I tried walking away from the desk the cord jerked the lamp and me back towards the desk.  Fortunately I managed to catch my balance before I hit the lamp with its bulb against anything but it was close.

I unplugged the cord and carried the clip on desk lamp over towards the closet but first I had to find an electrical outlet.  Fortunately there was one not too far from the left closet sliding door and once I had it plugged in I slid the door open just enough to try to attach the clip onto the closet door.

Again with my lack of mechanical prowess I struggled to get the clamp attached to the closet door but after finally managing to do so I got it tightly connected to the door where it wouldn't fall.  I quickly turned the switch three times to put the lamp on high and then quickly moved to the bedroom light switch to turn out the overhead light.

I moved in front of the closet door proud of myself for my high tech rigged spot light and after needing to step towards the lamp four times, got it adjusted to shine at only a slight angle directly on me.

My plan worked to perfection and the majority of light shined directly on me sending little light to the background behind me. 

Once again I tried to pretend I was in Dr. Van Doom's office and that he was standing behind me.  I immediately realized I was still wearing my shoes and socks and pulled them off as quick as I could and looked in the mirrored closet door pleased with myself. 

I took a minute to focus trying to remember what he said, "Remember, Em. You are a beautiful, sexy girl and it’s not anything to be ashamed about.”

I tried to focus more placing my own hands on my tummy trying to remember where he placed his hands when he wrapped his arms around me.  Unfortunately my hands were much smaller and not near as warm.  But I pretended as best as I could trying to imagine.  Once again I thought of his words but this time saying them myself out loud as I looked at my reflection, "Remember, Em. You are a beautiful, sexy girl and it’s not anything to be ashamed about.”

I tried thinking about the session, him guiding me to the sofa, sitting me towards one end.  Getting me to talk about so many things.  I almost forgot I had originally had on my sweatshirt.  Why had I taken it off?  Oh that's right I got hot and was sweating. 

There were more rambling questions and answers.  Then he pushed my upper body back against the sofa and pulled my legs forward leaning me way back.  But why did he push my knees apart? 

I shifted my feet wider standing in front of the mirrored doors feet wide.  I didn't really know.  But finally he walked me in front of the mirror and stood behind me.  I slid my feet back together and once again imagined he was standing behind me. 

Again I tried to imagine his voice and softly said aloud, “Remember, Em. You are a beautiful, sexy girl and it’s not anything to be ashamed about.  So I guess……we’ll see each other on Friday, that’s your next appointment.”

Friday seemed so far away.  The last few months I had finally found motivation to not just stay at home and sit in my room, my friend Carmen.  Unlike everyone else she didn't ask a lot of questions.  I think she liked that I didn't either.  Our friendship started when I noticed a security guard in a store at the mall watching her.  I had seen her put a shirt in her bag when walking through the store. 

As she walked to another aisle I saw a security guard walking behind her.  I'm not sure why I did it but I looped around to another aisle in her path and walked right into her hard knocking her down making her drop her bag.  The shirt she had put in her bag fell out.  I quickly reached for her bag and helped her to her feet.  Just as I got her to her feet she was about to hit me and said, "BITCH" when the security guard walked up behind her grabbed her arm and said, "Miss I need to see inside your bag for suspicion of shop lifting."  He took her bag from her and opened the bag.  He searched through the entire bag finding nothing.  She looked at me looking shocked then her eyes found the shirt on the floor that had been in her bag under a clothing rack. 

The security guard looked more shocked then her and must not have seen us collide and fall.  He handed her back her bag and scurried away looking embarrassed. 

She looked at me, no longer angry offered a hand and introduced herself, "Carmen" I shook her hand and introduced myself, "Emily."  She replied, "Nice to meet ya Em." And that is when I became "Em."  When I told my mother that's what I wanted to be called she just rolled her eyes and continued to call me "Emily" no matter how many times I protested.  From that point until just recently Carmen was really my only friend.  I know she knew something was off with me because I didn't like to be touched by anyone but especially boys.  But she never pried.  She invited me along to do things but even if she was with her boyfriend she didn't care if I tagged along.

Once again I looked at myself in the mirror.  I tried to look at myself like he did.  His stare was incredible, something I had never seen before.  He looked at a person more intensely then anyone I had ever seen look at another person.  Being stared at like that made you feel so many different emotions, self conscious, embarrassed, ugly, small, insignificant or under a microscope like the animals in science class.

I tried to look at myself like he looked at me but I didn't see, "beautiful and sexy."  I didn't know how he could think those things.  I didn't want to think of the words I thought when I looked at myself, words like "dirty" "unwanted" and "gross."  I tried looking harder at myself in the mirror to see the words Dr. Van Doran said and saw, "beautiful" and "sexy."  Those were much nicer words.  And suddenly my eyes went to my breasts.  They weren't large by any means but they weren't tiny either. 

I carefully placed my right hand under my left breast.  It didn't feel any different today then it had any other day.  But I took my time this time feeling it's weight at least as much as I could through my blue spandex shirt.  I then remembered him mentioning my nipples, asking if I touched them saying that it was normal to do so.  It wasn't as visible right now as it was in Dr. Van Doran's office.  I changed hands and cupped my other breast feeling it's weight.  I wasn't sure why really.  Once again I tried to look through the thin material of the blue spandex but couldn't make out much more then the small points of my nipples. 

I took a minute and looked at my body from my head to my toes.  I couldn't believe he looked at me so carefully even while getting me talking about painting my finger and toe nails.  He looked at me from my head to my toes and all places in between.

I surprised myself by the next thing I did, I pushed my leggings down to my ankles then stepped out of them.  I stood back up and once again looked into the mirror.  Now I only had on the light blue panties with the single tiny satin bow at the top center panty line and of course the blue spandex shirt.

I stared at myself for a while but my nipples were still not that visible.  I finally gave up trying to see my nipples through the shirt and quickly pulled it up over my head and off. 

Once again I stared at myself asking, "beautiful and sexy"?  I stared at my breasts.  Almost all milky white flesh except for the pink nipples surrounded by the pink circle with the little bumps.  The circles weren't too large like on other girls I had seen.  I stared and looked at them and even noticed myself get closer to the mirrored closet door. I didn't fully understand why but they began to stiffen and get puffy even the circle pushed out some as did the nipple.

Very carefully I used the pad of my right index finger to trace the circle around my left nipple and I could feel more texture then was there a moment ago.  I rubbed a circle around it a few more times before changing hands and nipples.  The other nipple had already hardened so it felt really nice to rub circles around it.  I couldn't help but remember him asking if I touched my nipples and if it felt good. 

I very softly alternated rubbing the circle around one nipple then the other.  It felt incredible and I realized that the more stimulated they were the harder and more they pushed out.  I guess I had heard about nipples getting hard but watching and feeling my own body experiencing it just seemed different from what I could have thought.

As I stood there looking down at my fingers touching my nipples also seeing my image doing so in the mirror in my periphery out of nowhere at that moment the unspoken events that happened in my bedroom behind the closed door came rushing back to my mind and I remembered things hurting not feeling like this and immediately moved my hands away from my chest, turned off my desk lamp and found a long t-shirt to put on.  I forced myself to push those horrible thoughts and memories out of my mind.

I went to bed that night struggling with so many thoughts flooding my head and I once again cycled through a variety of emotions from anger, crying, nervousness and even one that surprised me excitement for seeing Dr. Van Doom.  When I sat with the attorneys and my mom and they worked out my punishment as the therapy and community service I thought my life was ending.  For the first several minutes of my first session I thought it was going to be in hell and in a battle for me to refuse to talk.

But he didn't even ask me about the auto theft or criticize me for becoming friends with Carmen.  He asked me about things I never would have imagined like about my art class it was so far from what I expected.  And unlike my mother, any of my teachers, any of my friends or even my father back when I was a little girl the doctor did not one time interrupt my answers to his questions.  He listened to every word of my reply and stared at me like he was watching every move I made.  But it was so different to actually have someone who listened and I know he did because later he asked me questions about things I had mentioned.

While I thought our therapy session would drag on and feel like forever the time just flew by.  What I still didn't have any idea about was what my community service was going to be.  Dr. Van Doran was also in charge of that.  I hoped it wasn't going to be something like picking up garbage other people threw out on the side of the highway.

I was really surprised and liked that someone actually listened to what I said.  Much more then my own mother who was clueless and blind to the fact a few of the men she brought home with her managed to visit me in my room.  When I tried to tell her that I didn't like them she told me to, "stop being difficult and to face the fact she had moved on from my father." 

After I tried telling her three times she told me I was, "just being a selfish brat" not only did I stop trying to tell her, I gave up and quit trying to resist her boyfriends.  That was taken by them as me "liking" it and it happened even more.  I just pretended to be a doll and let the person playing with me do what he wanted.

It was so different being around Dr. Van Doran, someone who listened to me.  It was definitely surprising when he placed his hands on the small of my back, my shoulders, my legs and around my waist but it didn't feel about him to me, it felt more about me.  I felt a little like his rag doll but not like I did those times in my bedroom.

After all those thoughts I somehow finally managed to get to sleep. 

Friday morning came sooner then I ever thought it would and that morning unlike any other morning I worried about what I should wear.  Normally it was throw on a shirt and jeans or shorts and jeans.  I had to go to school before my therapy appointment so I couldn't wear short shorts like I liked to wear on weekends.

As I was searching through my closet I came across a garment I had not ever really ever had any desire to wear before and that drove my mother crazy since she bought it for me.  Maybe that's why I didn't want to wear it to aggravate her.  It was a multi colored vertical stripe wrap around dress.  It was pretty rare for me to wear a dress, especially to school.  The dress was also longer then the length of dress or skirt I normally liked to wear it came down about four inches below my knee.  All my other dresses and skirts typically came to mid thigh.

But the wrap around dress came below my knees.  I tried it on and it still fit like I had remembered.  But the reason it caught my eye is because the only fasten on the dress was a tie belt that went around the waist similar to a bath robe.

The dress had enough fabric it could appear very conservative if you pulled the material over lapping itself as you wrapped it around yourself.  But if you allowed the fabric to hang a tiny bit loose not wrapping it tightly, if you were sitting and leaned forward it could gap open at the top exposing the center of your chest.

Depending how you chose to cross your legs, you could use your hands to keep the fabric tight and keep your legs completely covered or you could let the material open and expose as far up your thighs as you'd like.

I tried the dress on and tested wrapping it in different ways from pulled very tight over lapping a lot to wearing it fairly loose and tested sitting on my desk chair that I placed in front of the mirrored closet.  After testing it several ways, even though I rarely wore a dress, let alone wearing one to school, I decided to wear that dress today.  Knowing I was starting my day at school I wrapped the material pretty tight overlapping it quite a bit, I had no desire to give my fellow students a view of my cleavage or legs.

My mother seemed to be quite pleased when she saw me wearing the dress she had bought me that I had avoided wearing, she didn't say anything but I could see it in the smile in her eyes.  With the dress being darker colored vertical stripes of navy blue, burgundy, dark red and purple I decided to wear a pair of very open navy blue ballet flats that contrasted the porcelain skin tone of my milky white legs and feet.

She drove me to school knowing she would also be picking me up to take me to the therapist office.  After school she picked me up and on the way to Dr. Van Doran's office I built up the nerve and asked her would she just drop me off at the door.  When she hesitated and said she wouldn't know what time to come get me I told her I could have him text her or give her a call with the time to pick me up.  To my surprise and delight she agreed but said HE had to text her not me, right after the start time of my appointment.  I knew she wanted to make sure I didn't ditch the appointment.

But she did as she agreed dropping me at the door of the professional building letting me walk in on my own.  Once inside I made a quick stop in the ladies room relieving my bladder before the appointment.  I then debated the reasoning behind why I had chosen to wear the wrap around dress and made the decision I debated about when I saw the dress in my closet.

I undid the tie belt completely and partly unwrapped and then re-wrapped the material of the dress overlapping the material less then I had when I put it on this morning.  I actually had to readjusted it three times to get it with the overlap I wanted, each time partly sitting on the edge of the toilet to see how I wanted it wrapped and allowed the material to gap at my neck and chest.  It definitely made a difference there as well as when I tested crossing my legs.

Most of the day at school there was enough overlap of material to keep my upper chest covered and only my neck and the very top of my chest were visible during the school day and I was even able to cross my legs and not expose my knees except for one time. 

But that was the look I wanted for school, not for my appointment with Dr. Van Doom.  This time it took three tries to get the look I wanted and when I had it like I wanted the V of the material exposed flesh down to mid chest.  When I tried crossing my legs the material opened enough to show both knees.  That was the desired look I wanted for my appointment. 

I looked at my phone to see I had less then two minutes to get from the ladies room to his outer office.  I hurried as fast as I could terrified my mother had either already called or texted him to make sure I showed up. 

Before leaving the ladies room I quickly put my hair up into a high pony tail showing a little bit more of my neck and face.  If he got me emotional I could easily pull the hair tie from my hair so I could let it fall and hide my face.  But right now I wanted his eyes to watch me like he did last time.  I actually felt anxious and hoped he'd once again be interested in what I had to say.

It was crazy to me that the day in court I had dreaded knowing I was going to be made to go to therapy but since our last session it was all I could think about knowing my only friend Carmen was going to be in juvenile hall for quite a while.  I had mixed emotions about if I wanted this appointment to be short, because I was afraid he might become like everyone else only wanting what they wanted not interested in my thoughts or if it felt like last time I hoped it would go on more then the two hours like the last session.

I opened the door to the outer office and walked in just at 4 PM the start time for our appointment.  My effort to hurry got the material of the wrap around dress to loosen just a little more then I intended and opening at the base of the V was down to the mid cleavage of my breasts.  I stopped the moment I walked through the outer office doors fully expecting to see Dr. Van Doom and hopefully him not be mad at me for arriving just barely on time.

May 23, 2017, 10:20:28 AM
Reply #9

Offline vile8r

“You’re almost late,” I said, flatly, as Em entered the office in a flurry. “I expect you to please arrive at least five minutes early.”

“I-I’m sorry, Dr. Van Doran. I’ll be earlier next time,” she replied, looking a little flustered.

I watched her make her way across the office to the leather couch. The wrap-around dress she was wearing had immediately caught my attention. It was a bit on the long side, and I, at first, looked at it as being rather conservative.

But upon further observation, I realized how it accentuated the curves of her young developing body. The “V” exposing her chest was very alluring. It showed off just the right amount of cleavage. As she sat down, the dress rode up a bit and I saw as she crossed her legs, how the material parted to make a slit, showing off quite a bit of her right thigh.

Emily had gorgeous legs.

I sat down in my chair, preparing my notebook and I hit the buttons on the remote, locking the door and activating the audio and video recorders in the room.

“How has your week been, Em?” I asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s been okay.”

“Anything happen at school that you need to tell me? Did you have any interactions with any boys?”

“No,” she answered.

“How is your mom?”

“Good.”

“I like the dress. A nice choice of clothing. Do you realize it makes you look much older?”

Em shrugged again. “I guess it does, maybe.”

“Do you like looking older? Do you want older boys…..older men…..to look at you?”

“Maybe……” she muttered. She was blushing I could see.

Emily began fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her legs, tugging at the hem of the dress at times, as though she felt it was rising too high on her legs.

“You’ll be happy to now, Em, I’ve arranged some community service for you.”

“Community service?” she queried.

“Yes, remember it’s a condition of your probation. I have a friend who works at a homeless shelter a few blocks from here. She said you can come there and work in the kitchen and do some janitorial work for them.”

“A shelter? Where there’s like bums and old homeless guys and bag ladies? Uh, uh, I’m not going there!” she said, defiantly.

“You will go there, Em,” I said sternly. “Or I’ll tell your PO and you’ll be joining your friend in juvey. Do you want that?”

“No…..I guess not.”

“Good, you will be supervised. They won’t be making you do anything or go anywhere that will put you in danger. I will accompany you the first couple times, all right?”

That seemed to brighten her up a bit, but I could see in her eyes, she was still in a pout. Speaking of her eyes, Emily had her hair in a high ponytail, with her blonde hair pulled away from her face.

I was able to really focus on the beautiful round curves of her face. Soft ivory skin, high cheek bones, and full lips. Her eyes were a very vibrant blue. Her whole face exuded an aura of innocent teenage sensuality.

“Your first community service will be Monday. Meet me here at 4 pm after school. You will do two hours a day, from 4pm to 6pm, Monday to Wednesday, and another two hours Saturday morning from 10 am until noon.“

“Okay,” Emily said softly, her eyes cast towards the floor.

I reached over and put a finger under her chin, raising her face to look at me.
“Are you all right?”

She nodded.

I began our session. I went through a few things again about her school.  What subjects she liked the best, and why. What teachers she liked the most, and why. I noted in my book that all of her favorite teachers were male. I was going to ask her about that again later.

“Your mother tells me, she suspects you’ve been shoplifting. Any truth to that?”

Em went silent, she didn’t reply right away. “I told her where I got the clothes from. My friend Carmen gave them to me. She didn’t want them.”

“Speaking of Carmen, do you think a lot about the night you were arrested? What made you get in that car, knowing it was probably stolen?”

“I never knew it was stolen,” Emily stated.

“Did you do it to make Carmen think you were cool?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“So you really like my dress?”

I was startled, as Emily changed the subject. It was the first time she’d ever done that. It signalled to me that she didn’t want to talk about her arrest. At least not at this moment.

I leaned back, my eyes scanning across her. “I do, Em, I like it a lot.”

I had noticed,  she was still crossing and uncrossing her legs quite a bit. It almost seemed to me like she wanted me to see her exposed thigh.

Emily had dropped her right arm down by her side. She was wearing a little silver bracelet on her wrist and she brought her arm back up. The bracelet snagged on the fabric of the dress and pulled the slit along her right thigh even wider. I was suddenly given a view of almost her entire leg from the knee right up to the crotch, even catching a quick glimpse of white panties.

Aghast, Emily quickly yanked the bracelet free and straightened out her dress.

“I’m so…..s-sorry for th-that!” she stammered, her face turning a deep red.

“It’s okay, Em. No need to get so flustered. Why are you so embarrassed?”

“I didn’t….mean for you to see…..my whole leg like that,” she apologized.

“I’ve seen a girl’s leg before,” I chuckled. “It was no big deal.”

“I just…..I just….I mean……he used to ask me to show……” her voice trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “Who? Who would ask you? What did they ask you…..and what did they want you to show?”

Emily’s whole body suddenly went rigid. She buried her face in her hands and I could her sobbing.

It was happening again. In her mind…..the memories.  She was sitting on the edge of her bed…..it was dark…..no…..the light was on…..but in front of her was a dark shape. She couldn’t tell what it was…..there was no identifying features…..it was so dark. But it…..he…..was speaking to her…….she could smell him as he spoke.

Beer……and cigarettes……that’s what she smelled.

Something touched her on the thigh…..a hand…..or was it? It seemed like a hand……fleshy and warm……

“Em?”

“It’s okay, mom…..I’m okay….” She blurted out.

“Em!” I barked.

She pulled her hands away from her face and her eyes were wide open. She looked at me, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath and I handed her some Kleenex. She daubed at her eyes.

“You had a flashback, didn’t you? Want to tell me about it?”

Em didn’t answer, just shook her head. I decided to let it slide for a little longer. But I knew I was going to have to start delving deeper into the mind of this girl. The wardrobe malfunction had triggered something. I wanted to find out what that was.
I moved along the questioning, this time getting into some stuff about her relationship with her mother. Em slowly began opening up again, almost ranting to me about how her mother didn’t understand her, didn’t seem to care about Emily, just herself.

“Did your mother like this dress, Em?”

“Yes, she did, but I didn’t wear it to piss her off.”

“Oh?”

“If I had wanted to piss her off, I would have worn something much shorter.”

“Would doing something like that make you feel sexier? Do you try to look sexy to spite your mother?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Would you date a boy that you knew your mother hated?”

“Yeah. If it pissed her off, for sure. I like it when I piss her off.”

“Do you think it pissed her off when you got arrested?”

“It probably did, but I didn’t intend for that to happen,” she explained.
“Do you think your mom is sexy?”

“My mom? Are you kidding? She’s a skank!”

“Remember last week when I told you, it was okay to touch yourself, to pleasure yourself? That it was perfectly okay for a young girl to do that?”

“Yeah, I…..remember,” she replied, looking away.

“During the past week…..did you ever do that?” I asked.

There was an awkward silence, and I was feeling that she might try to change the subject again. Then she spoke.

“I, um, yeah, I did.”

“Good, that’s good,” I nodded. “It’s important that you not be ashamed of your body.”

The session went on for a while, with me asking basically  some very mundane questions, mostly about her friends. But again, Emily answered them all and seemed genuinely pleased that I was paying attention to all she said.
My intercom beeped. I had told my receptionist earlier that I was not to be disturbed.

I pressed the button on the speaker.

“Miss Moresby, you know I don’t want to be disturbed. What is it?”

“I apologize, Dr. Van Doren, but it’s your client, Mr. Forster. He’s called here now five times in the last ten minutes and he seems very agitated. He insists he talk to you. He’s on the line right now.”

I gave a deep sigh. “Oh all right. I’ll talk to him. Put him through.”

I looked over at Emily. “I’m terribly sorry, Em, but this is a call I really, really have to take. Please excuse me for a few minutes. There’s some books and magazines over on the far wall, if you want to occupy yourself while I’m busy.”

I walked over to my desk and took the call. Mr. Forster was a 22 year-old whom I had recently diagnosed with schizophrenia. He was on meds, but he had his bad days.

I sat down, and began speaking with him. Emily got up and walked around the office as she waited for me to finish. I patiently listened to Mr. Forster and the details of his latest crisis. It didn’t take too long and I was able to calm him down.
I ended the call and looked over to where Emily was. She was in front of the mirror, apparently admiring herself in her dress. I walked up behind her.

She suddenly looked up, a little startled at first, but then she relaxed. I placed my hands on her shoulders and she tensed up a bit.
“You think you look sexy in this dress, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” she replied.

“No, you look very sexy,” I added. “No guessing about it.”

My hands moved down her shoulders, and I grasped the sides of the ‘V’ in the front of the dress, tugging on them a bit to open up her chest even a little more.

“There……that looks even better, Em.”

“I don’t think…….I mean…..I don’t know……”

Emily spun away and tried to go around me, but I was blocking her way back to the couch. She took a few steps back, finding herself in a corner by my bookshelf. I stepped towards her, my hand going around the back of her neck and pulling her towards me.

I don’t know what made me do it, but suddenly it seemed to be the natural thing to do.
“It’s all right, Em, believe me, it’s all right.”

My head dipped down and my lips pressed against hers. I felt the soft, moist skin of her lips against mine. Her mouth opened slightly and her breath sharply exhaled, blowing against my face.

As I pulled her closer, the firmness of her upper body pressing against my chest caused my cock to jump in my pants. I’m sure she noticed.
As quickly as I had started it, I stopped, releasing her and stepping back.

“I am sorry, Em. That ……was not right. But you just look so…..pretty…..so sexy.”

“It’s okay, Dr. Van Doran,” she smiled at me.

My alarm went off…..the session was over.

“Remember now, Emily……..no discussion of what goes on in our sessions. And I will see you on Monday.”

At our last session, after I had explained to her the importance of maintaining therapist/patient confidentiality, she had asked me if it applied to the things she told me. Did I also have to follow the same protocol?

“I will tell your mother only what she needs to know,” I had replied. “I will give your PO weekly progress reports, but yes, I will also keep everything confidential. I wouldn’t be a very good therapist if I didn’t.”

At the time, she didn’t quite catch all my reply and she asked me to repeat myself.
This time she asked me the same thing again.

“Emily……like I said……I have to keep my discussions just as confidential as you do.”

“All right, “she said, sounding satisfied. And she left the office.



May 27, 2017, 12:24:55 AM
Reply #10

Offline brokenwing

"One, two, three. . ." I was trying to count the bumps on the ceiling of my bedroom over my bed, something I used to do often, during those unspeakable acts while they happened when they did things to my body, those things I tried to tell my mother about but she didn't seem to care, so even I stopped resisting and fighting and just stared up at the ceiling letting them do what they wanted as I tried to focus on the textured dots added on the ceiling, ". . .twenty three, twenty four, twenty five. . ." I finally gave myself permission to stop counting and decided to think about the events of the day while I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling.

I couldn't help wonder if he was mad at me for barely being there on time.  Because of rushing into his office I now had been told I needed to be five minutes early.  An additional five minutes added to my sentence to death with Dr. Van Doom, well not quite death but therapy and I didn't even want to think about the horrific community service hours I had to do under his direction.

"Twenty six, twenty seven. . ." I couldn't help but count a little more.  It always seemed to calm me down no matter how scared or angry I had become. 

I was a bit surprised that we had already started to have a routine for our sessions, after entering his office I walked to the same end on the oversized sofa, but didn't lean back this time sitting more upright.  Not even thinking how rushing from the bathroom to his office might have loosened how tight I had the dress wrapped around my body which I had already loosened some intentionally, but it was obvious the minute I sat down and crossed my legs it pulled the opening at the base of the hem farther apart then I intended immediately exposing my knees and part way up my right leg.  I quickly had to tug the gap closed more but that only seemed to help for a few seconds before the material gapped open a little more again.

And just like last time, his eyes watched me, watched my every move, watched me like we watched experiments in science class, like no other person ever had watched me before.  I swear if I sniffled he would watch how much my nose wrinkled.

He sat down directly across from me in his chair, once again pulling it very close to me and I couldn't help hear the loud clunk from the direction of the door and my eyes went directly to his hand holding the large remote control. 

Like so many other emotions that afternoon I had mixed feelings.  I was confident my mother wouldn't just come storming into our session, I was pretty damn sure the door was locked shut.  But for every bit of relief that mother wouldn't burst in the minute I shared sone deep dark secret, I also could not just run out of the door like I had stormed out of any classroom any time the teacher pissed me off.  Those times, I didn't even care that I just on my own walked straight to the assistant principal's office where I hardly even got fussed at anymore having bolted from classes so many times.  But I wasn't bolting from here, I was "bolted" in with Dr. Van Doom.

He asked me a bunch of silly questions about school, most I doubted he cared about but I'm sure to get me talking, why did I let that work and talk so damn much.

And then he told me, "I like the dress. A nice choice of clothing. Do you realize it makes you look much older?”  Did he really think that I looked older?  I had hated that dress the minute mom gave it to me, girls my age didn't wear a dress that long.  But this was just another one of those mixed feelings, he said I looked older in the dress, I liked that, I think!

Then I realized I had been bouncing my crossed over foot and switching the leg I had crossed over from one to the other, something I also had been doing to fight anxiety. 

Then he asked another question that came with mixed emotions, "Do you like looking older? Do you want older boys…..older men…..to look at you?” 

I felt my face turn red and was mad at myself for putting my hair up in a high ponytail.  Why did I think I wanted him to look at my face, stupid, another mixed emotion.

I looked at his feet, his high polished dress shoes and counted the number of holes the laces went through to tie his shoes.  Sometimes I swore he could read my mind, "NO Dr. Van Doran, I could care less if any of the snot nosed, pimple faced boys older or not, even seniors looked at me, they didn't matter, they were so immature, goofy and dumb." 

I didn't dare think it, admit it and struggled trying to stop it from crossing my mind.  ". . .four, five, six shoe lace holes. I like when grown men look at me, get chills if they touch me and always can't help but wonder what they might want to do to me."  But again my mind, body and soul was so confused as to why I would feel that way when my mother's boyfriends had done things they shouldn't have done to me in the dark behind my closed bedroom door. 

When a man touched my shoulder or back my entire body would tighten with intense anxiety yet at the same time I felt chill bumps run down my back then down my arms to my finger tips.  It's why I struggled to look at myself in the mirror because I struggled with seeing a messed up girl looking back.

As he always managed to do, when things got tough Dr. Van Doran distracted me, "You’ll be happy to know, Em, I’ve arranged some community service for you."

I'd hoped he'd forgotten about that part of my plea bargain, but it definitely worked to get my mind off my thoughts.

“Community service?” I asked in protest.

“Yes, remember it’s a condition of your probation. I have a friend who works at a homeless shelter a few blocks from here. She said you can come there and work in the kitchen and do some janitorial work for them.”

Janitorial work, was he kidding me?

“A shelter? Where there’s like bums and old homeless guys and bag ladies? Uh, uh, I’m not going there!” I said, defiantly shaking my head dramatically no.

“You will go there, Em,” He said sternly. “Or I’ll tell your PO and you’ll be joining your friend in juvey. Do you want that?”

“No…..I guess not.”

“Good, you will be supervised. They won’t be making you do anything or go anywhere that will put you in danger. I will accompany you the first couple times, all right?”

I wasn't sure what to think of that.  I was relieved to hear he would be there but a shelter, seriously?

“Your first community service will be Monday. Meet me here at 4 pm after school. You will do two hours a day, from 4pm to 6pm, Monday to Wednesday, and another two hours Saturday morning from 10 am until noon.“

“Okay,” I said softly, looking down towards the floor.

But he surprised me and reached over and put a finger under my chin, raising my face to look at up at him and asked, “Are you all right?"

I nodded my head not feeling to happy about the prospect of going to a homeless shelter for a whole two hours of time each day. 

He started asking me about school again and it mostly annoyed me because I knew those questions had little purpose other then to distract me and get me talking.

Then he surprised me a little telling me my mom thought I was shoplifting.  I of course denied it but as always his eyes were fixed on me and it still felt like he could read my mind.  I was pleasantly surprised when he moved on from the shoplifting but then asked me about the stolen car.  Again I told a bald faced lie telling him I didn't know it was stolen, well that was half true, at least when I first got in the car I didn't until I saw the broken glass. 

I realized once again I was either bouncing my leg or changing which leg was crossed over from one to the other.  Again I had to try to tug the opening at my legs closed some as it was once again exposing more of my legs to him.  I hated I wasn't as good at watching him as he was at watching me.  I wondered if he liked looking at my legs.

This time I decided to change the conversation myself and asked, "So you really like my dress?”  I was excited when he replied, "I do, Em, I like it a lot.”

Again seeing his eyes looking at me like always I couldn't stop nervously crossing and un crossing my legs, I made the decision to place my arm on the skirt on my leg when I switched which leg was crossed over the other but once my legs were still I moved my arm but to my horror when I did my bracelet snagged on the material of the wrap around skirt and tugged the fabric hard outward exposing one leg all the way up to my pelvis.

I was horrified and it took me what felt like forever to pull the bracelet free from the material leaving my legs exposed so very far up my thighs for I was sure was three hours except I knew my session wasn't that long.  Once free from the bracelet I once again tried to tug my dress back into place but it felt like there was less material and I swore I couldn't get my legs covered as well as before.  I felt so ashamed and wondered if he thought I did it on purpose.  Now I couldn't stop trying to tug the fabric closed. 

In a soft voice I apologized saying, I’m so…..s-sorry for th-that!” my words stammering and once again I could feel incredible heat in my face as I knew without a doubt I was blushing.

"It’s okay, Em. No need to get so flustered. Why are you so embarrassed” he asked?

“I didn’t….mean for you to see…..my whole leg like that,” I replied my voice shaky.

“I’ve seen a girl’s leg before,” he chuckled. “It was no big deal.”

“I just…..I just….I mean……he used to ask me to show……” I buried my face in my hands wishing I hadn't put my hair into a ponytail, I started to answer but my words started to feel like they were just inside my head.

I heard a male voice talking but couldn't distinguish the words. 

. . . I was in my bedroom, it was dark, he was there but I couldn't make out his face.  I felt the covers pull away from my body I was sitting on the edge of the bed where I knew he wanted me to be, "I've seen your legs before Emily, open them for me the way you know I like" I thought I heard him say and I widened first my ankles and then my knees. 

I could smell his breath, so very close, beer and cigarettes, God how much I hated when he kissed me.  I felt a touch inside my thigh warm yet clammy like a claw and without him saying a word I opened my ankles then my knees wider giving him greater access.  I knew where I would feel him touch next.  I first felt the pressure of the fabric of my panties.  Somehow even in the dark he could always find dead center and I felt the pressure of the fabric start to push inside me, slowly.  I hated how that felt, it felt anything but nice, but he never hurried he'd soften the push for just a moment then push again firm forcing the fabric of my panties inside me. 

Slowly I could feel his finger more through the thin material.  It would always start to feel damp and then I could feel more of the warmth of his finger.  He'd let out a hard exhale and I'd smell stale beer and cigarettes within inches of my face.  Then eventually I'd feel my panties tug fairly hard to the side and then I'd feel the warmth of the bony finger touch me and push inside slowly.  It hurt so much.

I could feel the tears run down my cheeks.  I heard a sound come from deep inside my throat. . . I thought I heard my mom ask if everything was okay, I cried out to her, "It’s okay, mom…..I’m okay…"

“Em!” I heard a male voice say loud.

I pulled my hands from my face and looked up.  It took my mind a moment to process where I was that I wasn't in the dark, inside my bedroom behind the closed door.

I finally managed to find his eyes with mine, it wasn't one of my mother's boyfriends, it was Dr. Van Doran.

“Are you okay," he asked?

I took a deep breath and he handed me some Kleenex. I daubed at my eyes.

“You had a flashback, didn’t you?" Want to tell me about it?”

I felt myself shake my head NO wanting to do anything but tell him about the past or even the flashback.

"One, two, three. . ." I started to count the decorative pattern on his shoes.  I tried not to cross and uncross my legs.  I was pretty sure he thought I was a dirty little girl and had flashed him my legs and maybe even my underwear on purpose. 

He managed to bring my mind back into the session again asking me questions about my mom and the dress she bought me.  I enjoyed telling him if I wanted to piss her off I would have worn something shorter. 

There was more chatter about me finding ways to piss off my mom and that I liked to piss her off which I admitted I did.  She didn't care if her boyfriends came into my bedroom at night, that definitely pissed me off, so why shouldn't I like upsetting her.

He asked if she got upset about me being arrested, I agreed that it upset her but once again lied about knowing the car was stolen. 

He surprised me when he asked, "Do you think your mom is sexy?”

“My mom? Are you kidding? She’s a skank!”  I replied very emotional and was pretty sure he noticed how much that question effected me since I raised my voice, pretty unusual for me.

Once again he caught me off guard with his next question, “Remember last week when I told you, it was okay to touch yourself, to pleasure yourself? That it was perfectly okay for a young girl to do that?”

“Yeah, I…..remember,” I acknowledged but struggled with the thought of him seeing my eyes so I looked away.  Damn why did I put my hair up in a ponytail? I thought to myself.

“During the past week…..did you ever do that?” He asked.

The room fell silent for a few minutes as I contemplated if I wanted to answer his question.  I'm not sure why but I chose that moment to study the office door behind him and it really looked heavy.  I could hardly believe the random thoughts that flooded into my mind, like if the building caught on fire, could the firemen use an axe to get through his office door or was it so secure he and I would die by inhaling too much smoke. 

The answer to his question came to my mind, 'Yes I did, think about you touching my shoulders then waist while looking in the mirror, dreaming you had thrown me on the sofa, gotten on top of me and kissed me, that's what I thought about when I touched myself.'   But once again I hoped he couldn't read my mind as those were just my thoughts not what I answered.

I cleared my throat and then answered a much less detailed and safer answer, “I, um, yeah, I did.”

“Good, that’s good,” he replied and nodded. “It’s important that you not be ashamed of your body.”

Like with the previous session he let me talk and just listened to every word I said.  He was an amazing listener.  I'm not sure why that made me at that moment wonder if he had a wife, Mrs. Van Doom, Mrs, Van Doran, Mrs. Dr. Van Doran, Mrs. Em Van Doran, Mrs. Dr. Em Van Doran, Mrs. Emily Van Doran and finally Dr. Van Doran and Mrs. Emily Van Doran.  I tried on all of them  feeling his eyes on me, studying me, wondering if he could read my mind.  Read my mind Dr. Van Doran, 'Kiss me, please!' I thought to myself three times trying to send him the thought.

Suddenly the intercom beeped. I was surprised when he got up and went over to answer it.  One thing for sure, my mental telepathy wasn't working, not only did he not kiss me, he got up and walked away, "nice job Em" I thought to myself. 

He suddenly started talking to a device on his desk about some other patient in crisis.  He told me he had to talk to the guy and that I could look at books and magazines.  So I got up, walked around aimlessly not really walking to anywhere in particular until I spotted the mirror and ended up standing in front of it once again.

I was horrified to see how much the wrap of the dress had loosened.  The V in my neck was much farther down in my cleavage then I ever would have intended and the opening at my legs showed well above the knee on both legs and on one leg most of the thigh too.  I tried carefully tugging the material a bit tighter with only a little success.

I was so focused on what I was doing I didn't see Dr. Van Doran walk up behind me till right before he said, "You think you look sexy in this dress, don’t you?”

I hesitated a moment before answering that question.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” I replied unsure.

“No, you look very sexy,” he added. “No guessing about it.”

Then his hands moved onto my shoulders and I felt shivers run down my back.   Then being as tall as he was he reached around my arms and grasped the sides of the ‘V’ in the front of the dress, tugging on them a bit to open it a bit more and expose my chest even a little more.

“There……that looks even better, Em.” he said with such confidence and I felt my body shiver.

I couldn't even talk without stuttering, “I don’t think…….I mean…..I don’t know……”

I don't know why but for a minute I panicked and spun away and tried to go around him, but he  was blocking my way back to the couch and I'd need a fire axe to get through the door, maybe just to get past him so I took a few steps back, finding myself in a corner blocked from moving any farther by the bookshelf.  He stepped towards me, and grabbed me around the back of my neck and pulled me towards him.

My entire body tensed and I knew he could tell because he said, “It’s all right, Em, believe me, it’s all right.”

Hearing his words made me look up to see his eyes and when I did he lowered his face to mine and pressed his lips against mine.  I felt his firm warm lips on mine and it sent a heat flash throughout my entire body.  For just a few seconds I didn't know if I would pass out, try to punch him or poke his eyes and try to run for the door or jump up and down with excitement.  I didn't do any of those things, instead I somehow found the nerve and very timidly opened my lips just a little, sure he would break the kiss and push me away. 

But that's not what he did, instead he pulled me closer and I was pressed against his lower chest and tummy from my chest to my waist. At fourteen I shouldn't have noticed or recognized the feeling of his erection but I felt it against my tummy and once again my mind spun with mixed emotions.  I wanted to run, scream for help or grab hold of it with my hand and stroke it.  I did neither and instead just shifted my weight as much as I could without being obvious to press harder against it.

To my horror he stopped kissing me, let go of me and stepped back.  He hated me, my kissing sucked or he just hated the kiss and me.

“I am sorry, Em. That ……was not right. But you just look so…..pretty…..so sexy.” he said.  I couldn't tell if what he was saying was sincere.  But the two words, "pretty" and "sexy" stayed in my mind for a couple seconds.

“It’s okay, Dr. Van Doran,” I said forcing a smile on my face, disappointed he broke the kiss so quickly, my heart still racing.  Again I thought of running to the bolted closed door or going back to him trying to get him to kiss me again.

An alarm went off indicating the session was over.

“Remember now, Emily……..no discussion of what goes on in our sessions. And I will see you on Monday.” he said sounding so professional, not the sound I had hoped for.  I knew the sound of lust in a man's voice and I was terribly torn and confused about if I wanted to hear that tone.

Part of me wanted him to take me to the sofa and do. . .things to me.  Part of me wanted to run.

After showing my legs, part of my chest and probably my panties to him I asked him one more time about the whole confidentiality thing. 

He answered, "I will tell your mother only what she needs to know,” He stated, likely a repeat of what he told me last session.. “I will give your PO weekly progress reports, but yes, I will also keep everything confidential. I wouldn’t be a very good therapist if I didn’t.”

“Emily……like I said……I have to keep my discussions just as confidential as you do.”

“All right, “ I said feeling better about his answer and turned, walking towards the door, hearing a "thunk" as I would imagine he unlocked the door, and I left the office.

"Thirty three, thirty four, thirty five. . ." I counted as my eyes moved to another area of the textured ceiling above my bed.  But it was hard to focus on counting the bumps on the textured ceiling with my hands in my panties thinking about the kiss.

Was there any chance he read my mind?  Did I use mental telepathy to tell him I wanted him to kids meal?

That didn't matter much right now, and I knew it was silly, what mattered was what I was doing.

I didn't rub myself very often.  It reminded me of the unspeakable things they did to me and made me do to them.  It made me feel dirty and ashamed.  It made me feel like I was like my mother a skank.

But today, I needed to.  He kissed me, on the lips, gently.  And he didn't taste like stale beer and cigarettes.  I couldn't stop thinking about how he looked at me in the mirror and tugged the fabric wider open on my chest. 

In the years with mother's boyfriends I never felt pretty or sexy, I felt the opposite, dirty, disgusting and slutty.  I felt shame for stopping resisting and for learning what they liked and how to do what they liked because as soon as their sex squirted I was pretty much finished with them at least for that time.

But for the second time in just a few days, I looked at the dirty, discussing, slutty girl in the mirror and heard the words, "pretty" and "sexy."  The way he tugged so deliberately at the top of the dress and exposed more of my chest, was that cruel and selfish like my mother's boyfriends or was it a normal guy girl attraction because he thought I was pretty and sexy.

But I think what surprised me more was when I panicked and tried to spin away from him he used his body to block my path away from him.  So then when I backed into the corner he moved towards me trapping me there with his large well built body took hold of the back of my neck and like I had wished for earlier kissed me.

Again my mind struggled with mixed thoughts and feelings.  Should he be using his size and strength advantage to trap me in the corner?  Should he have grabbed me by the neck and pushed his lips to my mind?  As I laid there on my back asking myself that question my fingers were rubbing between my legs faster and more deliberately then they ever had in my life.  I was so wet down there and it made me feel naughty and dirty yet the last thing I wanted to do was stop.

Instead I wanted to think about how it felt with his hand firmly on the back of my neck, pulling me into his body.  I was ashamed that I noticed his erection and pushed my body more firm against it hoping he'd feel that and like it.  I opened my lips for him wanting to feel his tongue push between my lips but that didn't happen.  Even though it didn't I pushed my finger between my lips, but not the lips of my mouth.  I rubbed my finger carefully between the lips of my sex imagining it was the erection I had felt. 

I didn't understand why he broke the kiss, but while he stopped I didn't stop rubbing between my legs until I couldn't stand rubbing there anymore and was afraid I would set the bed.

To my own frustration I got up and went to the bathroom hoping that just maybe I could try my mental telepathy again to get another kiss. . .and more.

__________

I hated that Monday was a school day because it meant I had to dress to meet the school dress code.  Knowing I was supposed to meet at his office first before we went to the homeless shelter I put on my favorite white short shorts under a full skirt that came down to just above my knees.  I put on my canvas white sneakers and a pink tank top with spaghetti straps and lace trim around the neckline that also showed just a tiny bit of my belly and then put on a white button down blouse over the tank buttoning it up all the way to the last two buttons at the neck.

That's what I went to school in where my mom dropped me off and picked me up driving me to Dr. Van Doran's office.  Fortunately she didn't look at or question my school backpack that was at the moment empty because I had emptied its contents into my school locker.

To my delight, once again she dropped me at the entry door to the building.  She let me go in alone and once again I made a stop in the ladies room removing the blouse and skirt and hurried up to Dr. Van Doran's office in the tight white short shorts and lace trimmed spaghetti strapped tank top framing my belly button between the bottom hem of the tank top and the low rise waistline of the shorts. 

As instructed not only was I five minutes early, I sat in the outer office for ten minutes.

I practiced my mental telepathy powers once again, "Please kiss me, please hold me, please kiss me again.  Please don't make me go to the homeless shelter lets just stay in your office.  Pretty please with lots of kisses on top!!!!!"  I thought to myself as I waited for his inner office door to open.

June 10, 2017, 09:12:23 PM
Reply #11

Offline vile8r

I looked up from my desk as Emily entered my office. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult. There she stood……wearing a pair of white shorts that were, well, very short! And a pink tank top with spaghetti straps that ended just above her belly button.



I cleared my throat. “Em, you do realize that not’s exactly appropriate clothing for doing community service?”

She gave me the biggest disappointed frown. “You don’t like it?”

“I never said that. I just said, it’s a little inappropriate. Are you wearing that to rebel against your mother……or are you rebelling against me?”

The pretty blonde fidgeted and looked down at her feet. She didn’t answer my question.

“Because I know,” I continued, “ that your mother likely would not let you leave the house dressed like that, would she?”

I had gotten up from my desk and walked over to her. I pulled the backpack off her shoulder and looked inside it. Just as I thought, as I saw the blouse and skirt wadded up inside.

“You changed before you came here.”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, in a timid voice. “Are you mad?”

“No, not at all,” I replied. “But we’ll talk about it when we get back.”

I grabbed my jacket and Emily and I went down to the parking garage where my car was parked.

“You have a nice car,” Emily remarked, as I held the door open for her.

“Thank you.”

I seated myself on the driver’s side and pulled out of my parking spot. As I drove, I glanced over at her on the passenger side. In particular, her beautiful, smooth legs, shown off by the shorts, and the curve of her small breasts under the tank top. Her curly, blonde hair fell around her shoulders, framing her pretty face.

Something was off with her today. I could see it in her eyes. Was she still thinking about the kiss from our last session? I had thought about it a lot.

I hadn’t meant to be so impulsive and aggressive, yet, by the same token, she hadn’t exactly resisted me either. It intrigued me. Had she wanted me to continue? Should I have continued?  Should I have went farther?

The shelter wasn't all that far from my office, about a 15 minute drive. It wasn’t long before we pulled up in front of the building. It was a four-storey red brick building that had once been an inner city school many years ago. Now it was called the Mason Street Centre. A soup kitchen was on the ground floor, the old gymnasium had been converted into a homeless shelter, and the upper floors contained counselling and social services offices.

We entered the front doors, immediately encountering two older homeless gentleman. One of them leered at Emily as he passed us, making a rude remark to her. She cringed and grabbed at my hand.

“Don’t worry, Em, he’s not going to hurt you. Not as long as you’re with me.”

“I don’t want to be here, Dr. Van Doren! Get me out of here!” she said tearfully.

“Where you’ll be working, you will have no contact with any of the homeless people, okay? At least not right away. And there will be other shelter workers with you at all times!”

I noticed she was shaking and I rubbed her shoulders, comforting her. “It’s fine…..you’ll be fine, Em. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew something would happen to you. You’ll be safe.”

We went up a series of stairs to the third floor office of Holly Marin. She was the director of the shelter, and a long-time friend of mine.
She stood up as we entered her office. She was a pleasant dark-haired woman, just turned 40, getting a little plump in the thighs and hips. Not quite the body I remembered her having in her 20s, but still a very attractive woman.

“Hello Tanner!” she said, smiling. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. And this I presume is Emily?”

“Yes, this is her,” I said. “Emily, this is Holly Marin. She is the director of the shelter and will be overseeing you.”

“Hello, Emily,” Holly said, reaching out to shake her hand. I noticed she gave a little frown, as she looked at Emily’s attire.

“Hello Mrs. Marin,” Emily said, in a very shy voice.

“You can just call me Ms. Marin,” Holly said. “I’m not married.”

“And you can call her Em, if you like,” I said. “She actually prefers that.”

The next half hour was spent with Emily having to go through some orientation and signing some forms.

“We’ll put you in the storeroom today, Emily,” Holly explained. “We just got a shipment of groceries and supplies for the soup kitchen, and you can help stock shelves.”

Emily glanced over at me and gave me a little eye roll. I could see she wasn’t totally impressed.
Holly called someone on her phone and soon another young woman, who looked in her mid-20s, showed up in the office and took Emily away.

After they left, Holly turned to me. “You realize that is not the most appropriate clothing for a young woman to be wearing around here?” she asked me.

“I know,” I stated. “I have already told her we will talk about it later.”

“There’s very unstable……unhealthy people…..that come here to the shelter. The last thing they need to be seeing is some young girl letting it all hang out. That’s why we’ll keep her in the storeroom today,” said Holly.

The two hours went by quickly, or so it seemed to me anyway. They probably dragged on for Emily.
But soon, the other young woman brought her back to the office and we were ready to go.

“We’ll see you again tomorrow, Em,” Holly said, as we left the office.

I saw Emily give her a weak smile and a little wave of her hand.

“I don’t like it here,” Emily said , as we walked down the stairs to the ground floor. “It smells and they made me work hard.”

“Would you rather work in jail?” I asked.

“No!”

“Then I guess you’ll learn to put up with it,” I commented.

On the way out of the shelter, we passed some more homeless people on the street. Emily pressed herself against me, her arm going around me.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“They scare me,” she whimpered. “They’re staring at me.”

Emily couldn’t get in the car fast enough, as I opened the passenger side door for her.

As we drove away, I said, “I need to talk to you when we get back to the office.”

“We’re having a session?” she asked me. “You know my mom will be coming to pick me up right away?”

“It’s not exactly a session. We just need to discuss a couple things. We won’t be long and then I will drive you home. I’ve already called your mom and she’s fine with it.”

“You’ll be taking me…..home? You’ll see where I live?”

“That’s a problem, Em?”

“No…..I guess not.”

We were soon back at my office. My receptionist was already gone and we were completely alone. As we entered my office I hung up my jacket and walked over to my desk. Em just stood in the center of the room.

“You’re not going to sit?” I asked.

“I’m not feeling like sitting,” she replied.

“You saw today, the effect you can have on men by the way you dress, didn’t you?”

“You m-mean…..those homeless guys?” she asked me back.

“Exactly,” I said. “You gave them quite an eyeful.”

“They were gross!” Emily retorted. “I’d never let them touch me.”

“Well, Holly didn’t like the way you were dressed and I’m asking you to not dress that way again at the shelter.”

“What business is it of hers?” Emily shot back at me.

“Some of those men you saw, are not nice people. Dressing like you did…..in an environment like that…..is asking for trouble. I hope you understand that.”

“All right!” Emily frowned.

“That being said, I will tell you, I thought you really looked good today,” I said, taking Emily by the hand and leading her over to the mirror.
“Perhaps you should be putting the same effort into your schoolwork, that you put into dressing nice.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Emily replied.

“I’m very serious,” I said firmly. “But I know that you know, just how sexy and pretty you are. You know how to make yourself look sexy, don’t you? And you know how that attracts the attention of men.”

She gave a little shrug. “Yeah……I guess so.”

“You knew it would attract my attention, didn’t you? I think you did it to tease me.”

Emily was standing in front of me…….my hands were gently resting on her waist, just above her hips. In the mirror I was able to admire her long, coltish legs shown off by her tight shorts. Her slender, lithe body looked so good.

Without a word, my head dipped down and I kissed her on the shoulder, moving towards her neck. I brushed her hair away as my mouth left lingering, soft kisses on her warm skin. Emily was doing nothing, just standing completely still. I could see in the mirror that her eyes were closed.
I kissed her softly along the neck up to her ear. To my surprise, I felt her tilt her head, giving me easier access. Was Emily getting into this, I wondered? She certainly didn’t seem to be resisting.

Again, I asked her softly. “Did you do this for me, Em?”

She gave me a subtle nod, her eyes still closed. I turned her towards me and planted my lips right on hers. I pressed my mouth to her, kissing her deeply, feeling her lips part slightly. My tongue probed at the opening and the tips of our tongues just touched briefly.
I then turned her back towards the mirror.

“I knew it,” I whispered to her. “You did it to make yourself sexy for me. I knew it!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Emily. A pretty girl like yourself, should be proud of her body, proud of her appearance, proud of the way boys….and men….. are attracted to her.”

I leaned down and kissed her on the bare shoulder and neck. Mmmmm, she tasted so sweet!
“Do you like kissing, Em?”

She gave a nervous shrug, and I heard her, in a very soft, quiet voice. “Yeah…..I do!”

I turned her towards me again, this time putting my hand on the back of her neck and pulling her towards me. This time, as our mouths met, she parted her lips wider, allowing my tongue to plunge inside. Her soft, pink tongue flicked and played against mine. I reveled in the taste of her saliva.

My cock was a lump of rock inside my pants, and pressed against her leg, I knew she could feel it.

I pulled away from her for a moment and pulled my chair over in front of the mirror. I sat and pulled her down with me, making her sit on my lap but still facing the mirror.

“Sooooo pretty, Em……..You are so pretty!......and sexy! Wouldn’t you agree?”

I could see Emily was looking intently in the mirror, almost like she was hypnotized. One of my fingers slipped under the spaghetti strap on her left shoulder and moved it over until it slipped down her arm.

I kissed her bare shoulder and neck again. My right hand slid up across the front of her tanktop and I ever so gently rubbed her right breast through the shirt. I could feel Emily begin to tremble like a leaf.

“I want you to do something for me, Em,” I whispered to her.

“Move your legs apart.”

Facing the mirror, I was able to see as she parted her legs, while sitting on my lap.
“A little farther,” I urged her, still softly kissing at her shoulder.

Her legs moved wider.
“Just a little more……please,” I continued.

Without a word, Emily did as she was told, spreading her legs apart to the point that I could now see the inside edges of the legs on her shorts pulling up into her crotch. I moved both my hands down and ran the tips of my fingers along the edge of her shorts. I could just feel the fabric of her panties underneath, almost peeking out from under her shorts.

“God, I can’t get over how pretty you are, Em. I know those men who looked at you today thought the same thing too. Tell me, did any of your mom’s boyfriends ever tell you the same thing…..that you’re pretty……and sexy….? Hmmm?”

“Bob!” Emily suddenly blurted out. “Bob……..would tell me……he would…..he would….”

 I don’t know what I did, but I must have hit a trigger. Em suddenly went stiff and fell back against me, her hands pulling at mine, pulling them away from her.

“No Bob…….NOOOOOOO……Mom will know……..BOB……NOOOOOOO!” she screamed out loud.


June 12, 2017, 07:14:02 PM
Reply #12

Offline gscmar64

Only way to read this wait for a few chapters then binge all at once. Such a perfect story between two great authors!

July 03, 2017, 04:41:16 PM
Reply #13

Offline Emmy


July 12, 2017, 06:12:24 AM
Reply #14

Offline minniemcf

I agree with Emmy! This story is sooo good, you just have to continue with it.

July 12, 2017, 12:46:24 PM
Reply #15

Offline vile8r

You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login
I agree with Emmy! This story is sooo good, you just have to continue with it.

There is more on the way!

July 18, 2017, 10:49:19 PM
Reply #16

Offline brokenwing

I guess I shouldn't say I was surprised when he called me out on what I was wearing, I put on what I did, wanting him to notice.  And he was also right that my mother wouldn't approve but what surprised me most was when he grabbed my backpack opened it up and looked inside finding the other clothes I was wearing earlier.  

He lectured me on it not being appropriate for going to the homeless shelter for my community service but I had hoped when he saw what I was wearing that he wouldn't make me go.

I was surprised when I found out he was going to he drive me in his car.  It was a viery nice luxury car.  The entire way to the shelter I hoped he would turn the car around and head back to his office.  But he drove all the way to the shelter despite my wishing otherwise.  

No sooner then we entered the shelter two old homeless guys were staring at me and even made comments under their breath.  I moved closer to Dr. Van Doran and took hold of his hand so he'd have to stay close to me.

He said, “Don’t worry, Em, he’s not going to hurt you. Not as long as you’re with me.”

“I don’t want to be here, Dr. Van Doren! Get me out of here!” I said starting to cry trying to tug his hand back towards where we had come in.

“Where you’ll be working, you will have no contact with any of the homeless people, okay? At least not right away. And there will be other shelter workers with you at all times!” He added trying to assure me it would be okay but it didn't make me feel any better.

I was trembling and he rubbed my shoulders, trying to make me feel bette, “It’s fine…..you’ll be fine, Em. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew something would happen to you. You’ll be safe.”

He led me up several flights of stairs up to the third floor and took me to the office of the director and introduced me to her, some lady named Holly.  They seemed to know one another pretty well but that did nothing to lower my anxiety, I just kept wishing to be back in his office.  

I was surprised when she called him by his first name, a name I didn't know Tanner, Dr. Tanner Van Doran, Mrs and Doctor Tanner Van Doran I thought to myself.  

I was given a bunch of paperwork to fill out and couldn't help wonder what might have happened had a refused to sign it, but the thought of going to actual jail came to my mind and out of spite, I signed my name different then I normally signed my name.  I fantasized about maybe signing Minnie Mouse but also decided that could land me in jail or juvenile hall.

I was escorted to a storeroom by some young twenty something lady in jeans and a sweatshirt and I watched to see if Dr. Van Doran checked her out but he only seemed to give her a momentary glance.  I didn't like the fact that he seemed to be chummy with that director Holly lady but they stayed behind in the office so I couldn't watch them interact.  

I was forced to lift heavy boxes up onto shelves and was miserable.  It made me start to perspire and I didn't like that because I didn't want to smell like I belonged in the shelter.  This was misery and I was very mad at Dr. Van Doom, Tanner boy I thought to myself sarcastically.

It seemed like my sentence to community service was lasting forever.  For the first few minutes I was working hard and fast until I realized that was stupid.  Then I slowed down to a steady pace but the time still dragged out to what felt like forever.  

Finally the girl who showed me to the storeroom came and got me and walked me back to where Dr. Van Doom was waiting.  

We’ll see you again tomorrow, Em,” that lady Holly said and I struggled to not just roll my eyes at her.  I HATED the idea of having to come back the next day.  Fortunately he started heading out of the door and I waived bye to Holly very relieved to get out of there.

I immediately whined to him, I don’t like it here,”  as we walked down the stairs to the ground floor I continued, “It smells and they made me work hard.”

 "Would you rather work in jail," he asked?

“NO!” I replied stubbornly and loud.

“Then I guess you’ll learn to put up with it,” he said sternly.

On the way out of the shelter, we passed some more homeless people on the street. I tensed up and walked right beside Tanner almost stepping where he stepped.
“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“They scare me,” I whined. “They’re staring at me.”

When we got to the car I got into the passenger side seat as fast as I could and the minute the car door was closed I locked it even though I was pretty sure he had electric locks.  

For the first several minutes we both sat quietly and I stared out of the car window mad at that Holly lady, mad at my mother for making me do this, mad at the lawyer guy who made me agree to this but mostly mad at myself, how did I get myself into this mess to where I have to work at a homeless shelter.

Finally he broke the silence and said, “I need to talk to you when we get back to the office.”

“We’re having a session?” I asked in surprise and not too happy trying to think of a way out of it.  I then asked. “You know my mom will be coming to pick me up right away?”

But regardless of how much alarm I put into my voice his tone stayed even and he continued, “It’s not exactly a session. We just need to discuss a couple things. We won’t be long and then I will drive you home. I’ve already called your mom and she’s fine with it.”

“You’ll be taking me…..home? You’ll see where I live?” I asked my voice still elevated with frustration and surprise.

But still with a calm voice he asked, “That’s a problem, Em?”

“No…..I guess not.” I replied lowering my tone.

We were soon back at his office. No one was there but he and I.  

“You’re not going to sit?” He asked motioning at the sofa where I had sat before.

I’m not feeling like sitting,” I replied folding my arms wondering how long I was stuck here after all the time at the shelter..

I was amazed at how calm he could remain despite how I was acting, so very different then my mother who's buttons I knew how to push.  He continued, “You saw today, the effect you can have on men by the way you dress, didn’t you?”

“You m-mean…..those homeless guys?” I asked?

“Exactly,” he said. “You gave them quite an eyeful.”

“They were gross!” I added in a huff then continued,. “I’d never let them touch me.”

Still in a calm but now firm voice he said, “Well, Holly didn’t like the way you were dressed and I’m asking you to not dress that way again at the shelter.”

“What business is it of hers?” I shot back at him rolling my eyes, not liking Holly or how she looked at him.

Once again with a stern look on his face he added, “Some of those men you saw, are not nice people. Dressing like you did…..in an environment like that…..is asking for trouble. I hope you understand that.”

“All right!” I added with exasperated.

“That being said, I will tell you, I thought you really looked good today,” he said his voice softening and then he took my hand and led me over in front of the mirror.

Then he lectured me but with a little smile on his face I could see in the mirror, “Perhaps you should be putting the same effort into your schoolwork, that you put into dressing nice.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” I replied still a bit of sarcasm in my voice.

I’m very serious,” he added with a serious but kind tone to his voice then continued “But I know that you know, just how sexy and pretty you are. You know how to make yourself look sexy, don’t you? And you know how that attracts the attention of men.”

I shrugged a bit unsure but then said, “Yeah……I guess so.”

“You knew it would attract my attention, didn’t you? I think you did it to tease me.” He added but his voice had softened quite a bit and he was speaking very quietly almost directly in my ear.

He was standing directly behind me and had rested his hands on my waist and it made me shiver and I hoped he didn't notice.  

I was caught completely off guard when I felt his warm mouth kiss me first on the shoulder and then soft, lingering kisses on the sensitive skin from my shoulder to my neck.  I felt my hair moved out of the way and I stood frozen, afraid to move, scared if I did I'd either wake up from a dream or if this were real cause him to stop.  

To my relief it didn't stop and I carefully closed my eyes being very careful to not move any other part of my body, not wanting to risk him changing his mind and to stop touching my flesh with his warm lips.  When his lips made a trail from my shoulder to my neck and got close to my ear, I finally couldn't help myself and carefully tilted my head to the opposite shoulder to give him easier access to kiss.  

He broke the silence asking, "Did you do this for me Em"?

I very carefully nodded to the affirmative trying to move enough so he would know I was nodding but not so much it might give him a reason to stop.  

Once again, he caught me off guard taking hold of my shoulders and turning my body to face him.  I was overwhelmed and excited by what was happening.  Why did we have to waste time going to that stupid shelter, this is what I had hoped would happen.  I was getting quite a crush on him.

I opened my eyes for just a moment, darting my eyes up seeing him standing so much taller then me and I let me head fall back and I could hardly believe it as I watched him lower his mouth towards mine and I tilted my head slightly to the side and once again, like at our last session was delighted to feel his lips touch mine.

I carefully puckered my lips and then slowly and softly let me lips part slightly as I felt him kiss me deeply.  Once again I tried to hold my entire body motionless, except for allowing my eye lids to close and my lips to carefully open and I felt his tongue push into my mouth and was delighted when his tongue found mine.  

I was very disappointed when just as quickly as it started he ended the kiss turning me to once again to face the mirror and whispered softly in my ear, "I knew it!  You did it to make yourself sexy for me.  I knew it!"

He continued still in a whisper, "It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Emily. A pretty girl like yourself, should be proud of her body, proud of her appearance, proud of the way boys….and men….. are attracted to her.”

Once again he leaned down and kissed my bare shoulder and neck and I stood like a statue wanting to do nothing to make him think I wanted him to stop.

He then asked, “Do you like kissing, Em?”

I started to shrug, indifferent but thought that might make him decide to stop so I replied as quietly as I could but loud enough to make sure he understood me and said, "Yeah....I do!"

He once again turned me to face him, but this time much more confident and determined and I felt his hand go to the back of my neck and pull me to him.  I pushed up on my tip toes as high as I could letting my hands rest on his chest and the moment his lips found mine I slowly opened my lips and when he didn't pull away I let my mouth open wider getting what I hoped for and he kissed me much more passionately pushing his tongue into my mouth.  I carefully moved my tongue around playfully with his being careful to not make him think I didn't like it.  

With the way he pulled my neck towards him it left my body slightly off balance and I didn't realize at first that my entire body was leaning against him.  I didn't notice that is until I felt "It" inside his pants hard against my leg.  

He scared me for a moment, pulling away from me but only far enough to grab his big heavy leather chair and pulled it back to where I was in front of the mirror.  

He sat on the chair, took hold of my waist right above my hips and pulled me onto his lap.  His chair was tall enough and his legs long enough my feet lifted up off the ground and dangled as I sat in his lap.  I felt like a little girl again.

....Everything in the room changed and I felt a heat flash rush through my body.  I heard a voice talking to me but I felt lost, in a fog, not knowing where I was.  The voice asked, "Sooooo pretty, Em……..You are so pretty!......and sexy! Wouldn’t you agree?”

I felt 'him' start to undress me, I knew it was going to happen as I felt 'him' move the shoulder strap off my shoulder onto my upper arm.

I felt a 'his' lips kiss my shoulder and then an all too familiar hand moved onto my breast rubbing it through my shirt.  I felt cold and couldn't help tremble despite the warm hand on my boob.

'He' whispered that 'He' wanted something from me, "...I want you to do something for me, Em."

I knew I'd better do as 'He' said or I'd be in trouble.  'He' continued, "Move your legs apart."

Without hesitation I did as I had done so many times, doing as I was told, opening my legs.  

Once again 'He' commanded me to do as he wanted, "A little farther."  I felt a kiss on my shoulder and knew I'd better do as I was being told or 'He' would hit me and I opened my legs more.

Again 'He' commanded me, "Just a little more...please."

Once again I did as I was told knowing the consequences for not doing so and then I felt "His" warm fingers move to my upper thighs his fingers with little effort touching my panties like they had done so many times before easily pushing under the hem of the leg openings on my shorts.  

'His' voice continued to speak so softly into my ear, "God, I can’t get over how pretty you are, Em. I know those men who looked at you today thought the same thing too. Tell me, did any of your mom’s boyfriends ever tell you the same thing…..that you’re pretty……and sexy….? Hmmm?”

“Bob!” I answered then repeated. “Bob……..would tell me……he would…..he would….”

I felt confused.  I didn't know what he wanted or why he as asking me all these questions.  
“No Bob…….NOOOOOOO……Mom will know……..BOB……NOOOOOOO!” I cried out.  "Please don't hurt me there again.  I'll be a 'Good Girl.'  I'll rub it for you and kiss it for you, like...like you like."

I felt my body trembling, I didn't want him to hurt me like he did sometimes under the covers in the dark with the door closed.  

I stiffened my body like a board sliding off his lap onto the floor then said softly trying not to cry, "I'll kiss it and suck on it like a Lolly Pop, I'll be a 'Good Girl' Bob, like you like."

I turned to face that place that I felt poke my leg and moved my hands to his belt.  

'His' voice asked, "Did Bob make you do this"?

I nodded and worked my fingers till I managed to unbuckle his belt.

I pulled on the end with the buckle and pushed the other end back through his pants working to remove the belt from around his waist.  It took a few moments but I finally managed to work it off.

Without being told to do so, I placed the belt around my neck and fed the flat end through the buckle until the belt was around my neck the buckle under my chin and offered 'Him' the end of the belt like I knew 'He' expected. It took a moment but when he finally took hold of the end my hands went to his pants and started to work at unbuttoning the button.

Once again 'He' asked an odd question, "Did Bob like to hold the belt around your neck"?  I nodded not sure why 'He" was asking me what he should already know.

My fingers continued to work at unfastening the slacks and finally managed to do so.  I could feel his "thing" getting hard again letting me know I was being a 'Good Girl.'

The moment his slacks were unfastened I unzipped the zipper and opened the slacks as much as I could.  I quickly tugged his boxers forward and pulled 'It' out from inside the boxers, wrapped my fingers around 'It' and began to rub 'It' up and down with my hand.

'He' then asked another question, "Did Bob pull on the belt sometimes"?  As he asked this 'He' pulled the belt pretty firmly forcing me head to come up farther into his lap.  "Yes" I answered quickly not wanting him to pull harder and let out a little cough.  

"Where did Bob hurt you Emily" 'He' asked me?  When I didn't answer quickly he asked again, "Where did Bob hurt you Emily?  Can you show me?"

I pointed down between my legs but that didn't seem to be enough for 'Him' and he asked again this time pulling the belt up towards the ceiling not towards his body, "Can you show me Emily where Bob hurt you"?

The way he pulled the belt made me push my upper body as high as I could but 'He' kept pressure on the belt so I slid my feet under my bottom and then pushes up onto my knees. That must have been what he wanted because 'He' added, "That's right Emily show me where he hurt you?"

When his words confirmed that he wanted me to get up, I got to my feet, unbuttoned my shorts, unzipped them and pushed them down my legs.

I stood there in my thong pink panties, the style my mother had been buying me for the last few years, starring off into the fog.  My mind numb not sure what was going on.   I softly said, "Bob hurts me here" pointing at the center of my panties.

I heard 'Him' ask, "How does Bob hurt you there Emily"?

"He forces 'It' inside me there" I answered pointing first at his cock then at the center of my thongs.  

"Where are you when he does that Emily" he asked?

I answered softly, "On my bed, in the dark, under the covers with the door closed in my room."

I felt his hand holding the belt around my neck.  I felt myself starting to cry sure 'He' wanted to hurt me there now, so I bent over slightly, pushed my panties down my legs towards my knees until they fell all the way to my ankles.  Exposing my smooth completely waxed pussy for 'Him' to see.  My mind still in a fog waiting for the next thing 'He' wanted me to do...


July 31, 2017, 06:05:31 PM
Reply #17

Offline Emmy