A Different Kind of Therapy Ch. 07

Asian

[Thanks to estragon for the proofreading on my story once again. –tricia]

Session VII: Missing the Feeling

As the day passed on Thursday, the redness passed from my skin and the low-grade pain that reminded me of my beatings slowly faded. By the end of the day, I was missing it. No one had spanked me on Wednesday. Dominated me, fingered me, made me eat pussy, all that yes. But I hadn’t felt the sweet pain of my ass being beaten in two days.

The App buzzed me twice during the day and once at 7:30. Each time, it asked me a series of questions and asked me to relate my mood. I found myself disappointed when it buzzed and I wasn’t ordered to report for a therapy session.

I went to bed on Thursday night missing it.

I woke up in the middle of the night with my cunt on fire, dripping wet and a vivid dream filling my head. I had been in Odessa’s closet, kneeling between her naked thighs, hungrily licking her cunt while she called me dirty names. It was so lifelike. I had to get up and go downstairs to the family room and frig myself off. I was afraid that one of the kids would discover me there, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to get off.

No one discovered me, thank god. My little self-session wasn’t what I needed, but it let me get back to sleep.

I woke up on Friday feeling naughty and still horny. I found myself needing a spanking and wondering when I would get it. I was scheduled for an out-of-the-office day, so I pulled on jeans. But I “forgot” to put on panties. I felt a twinge of guilt and a flood of naughtiness when I talked to my children. If one of the girls left the house without panties, I would have been furious. But then again, I blushed as I thought, maybe they had been doing just that and I had no idea. They were growing up.

As soon as I got into the office to pick up my schedule, the App buzzed. I answered it excitedly, hoping for a therapy session. But it was only another check on my mood. I answered “8” out of possible ten when it asked me how bad a girl I was.

I went about my job completely distracted. I began to crave the session, to look forward to being bent over a knee or a table and having my bottom spanked red. I took out my iPhone more than once and looked at it, willing it to ring. It disobeyed my wishes until 1:30.

When it finally chimed for a session, I felt a surge of excitement rush through me and a throb of heat between my thighs. güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri Until I saw the address; then my stomach seemed to fall down a deep hole. “The Reverend Cheryl Rusk,” the App told me, “St. Lucille’s Rectory.” St. Lucille’s was the Episcopal Church in town and nominally it was my church. I got there maybe once a month, if I was lucky. I wasn’t sure I was a believer at all, but I felt guilty if I didn’t go. And now I was being sent to the Rectory to see the priest. For a therapy session.

As I started my car, I thought about refusing. But I remembered that I’d tried to refuse the appointment with Jennifer Edelman too and had wound up going. I tried to get myself to drive elsewhere, but in a few minutes I found myself pulling up to the Rectory.

Getting out of the car and heading toward the front door, I thought about Cheryl Rusk and what I would say to her. She’d been at the parish for about a year and a half, she and her husband who worked at the University. She is a little older than I am; I think she has a couple of children who are in college. She’s always been very friendly to me, but I’ve always been unsure how to respond.

She answered the door moments after my knock. A slight woman, maybe 5’2″ without her heels, she had straight blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a tweed skirt and a black shirt with the priest’s collar. She smiled at me and said, “Pamela, good. I’ve been expecting you. Please come in.”

She led me to an office in a wood-paneled room that was built to be masculine but had been somewhat transformed by a woman’s touch. Pictures of her children were everywhere and on one wall were framed diplomas from some religious school. Cheryl sat in a chair in front of her desk, but left me standing.

“I understand that you’ve been a bad girl?” she asked. I should have known better than to put that into the Therapy App.

I hesitated for a moment. But this was what I wanted, so I answered truthfully. “Yes, Reverend Rusk. I have.”

“Would you like to tell me about it, Pamela?”

“No, not really, Reverend.”

“Call me Cheryl, Pamela.”

“Okay.”

“How have you been a bad girl?”

“I’m not wearing any panties.”

“Show me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Show me that you’re not wearing panties. Open your pants. Push them down.”

“Please, no.”

“You’ll be showing me in a minute anyway, when we get to your therapy. güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri Do it.”

“Okay.” Blushing madly, I unbuttoned the tops of my jeans and unzipped them. I hoped I could get away with that, but it wasn’t to be.

“Push them down. Let me see.”

I pushed my jeans down so they were sitting on my thighs.

“Well, at least I don’t have to add lying to your list of transgressions. What else have you been bad about?”

“Last night, I uh, I got up in the middle of the night, to uh, well, you know. I was horny and….”

“And what?”

“I kind of touched myself.”

“You touched yourself? Is that it? You had to get up in the middle of the night to touch yourself? Tell me what you did.”

“I masturbated.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, Pamela? Tell me again. And from now on, use my name when you talk to me.”

“I masturbated, Cheryl.”

“I understand. And what were you thinking about, Pamela?”

“Odessa, Cheryl.”

“Who’s Odessa? Odessa Adamms? Did you have a session with her?”

“Yes, Cheryl. I had a session with Odessa Adamms. I had a session with her on Tuesday.”

“Well. What were you thinking about Odessa that made you get up and finger yourself last night?”

“I was licking her, um, Cheryl.”

“Licking her? Do you lick a lot of women, Pamela?”

“No, Rever…er, Cheryl. Only one. Dr. Gupta on Wednesday. At my therapy.”

“So, you are now dreaming of licking your therapists. Very interesting. If I spank you, will you want to lick me?”

“Um…” I looked at her, wearing her collar; thought about the sermons she’d preached.

“Would you want to put your tongue between my cunt lips and lick my clit until I come, Pamela?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cheryl…”

“I don’t know, Cheryl.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Because you’re a, you’re my…”

“Ah yes. Well, anyway, there won’t be any pussy licking today, Pamela.”

“Okay, Cheryl.”

“But there will be some spanking.”

“Yes, Cheryl.”

“Do you think your cunt will get wet like your records say it does every time you get spanked?”

“Um, it already is.”

“What already is what, Pamela?”

“My cunt is already wet, Cheryl.”

“Then you have been a bad girl. Get over my lap, right now.”

I shuffled over to her and awkwardly folded myself over her lap, setting my hands on the floor güvenilir bahis şirketleri to steady myself. The spanking began immediately.

She used only her hands, but she was good at it. She moved the blows around some and sometimes just concentrated on a single area. Because my jeans were around my thighs, for the first time ever my legs didn’t move apart. For that I was grateful.

I was grateful for the spanking too. I had needed it so badly. I felt my ass slowly redden and reveled in the tears that built in my eyes and then dripped to the floor.

When she stopped she said, “Get up. Go stand in the corner.” I struggled to my feet. She pointed to one of the corners of the office that was empty of furniture. “Face in,” she said as I shuffled over there. “Don’t look anywhere but the corner.”

The doorbell rang just then. “Don’t move,” the Reverend said to me.

She left the office and closed the door behind her, but in a minute the door opened again. “Pamela, don’t move,” she said again. Then, “Lucy, Pamela is still in the middle of her session. She needed corner time as well as a spanking. When your session is done, you’ll stand in the corner and Pamela will leave.”

“Um, okay,” said the tentative voice. I was dying of embarrassment that someone else was seeing me like this.

“Pamela, Lucy has been coming to me for therapy for two months now. I want you to listen to her session.” I heard her settle herself in her chair. “Lucy, you know what to do.” I heard a rustle of clothing and then a couple of strained breaths as I guess Lucy lowered herself to the position I’d just been in.

As Lucy’s spanking began, I felt every blow that landed on her as another blow on my reddened bottom. It was like I was getting spanked all over again. Eventually it finished. “Stand up, Lucy, and go stand in the corner. Face in. Don’t look anywhere else. Keep your skirt up.”

I heard Lucy’s shuffling step as she moved to the corner opposite mine.

“You can turn around now, Pamela.” I shifted around. The other woman was standing in the corner, her red skirt hiked up around her waist. A pair of underwear was scrunched and pushed down around her mid-thighs. Her bottom was bright red. I can’t say I remember anything else about her that day.

“You can pull up your pants now, Pamela.”

“Yes, Reverend.” I pulled them up, wincing as the denim squeezed my bottom.

“You did well, Pamela. I hope that we will be able to make these sessions fairly regular. Will we see you in church on Sunday?”

“Um….”

“We will see you in church on Sunday, won’t we Pamela?”

“Yes, Reverend Rusk. On Sunday.”

“Good. Now get out of here. I need to talk to Lucy.”

I let myself out of the rectory.

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