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[My thanks to estragon for proofreading and editing! -Tricia]
Session V: Breakthrough
I didn’t get any chance to use my vibrator that night. Mostly I spent the evening thanking God that my children and my husband were all completely oblivious. As long as I provided their food and helped with their homework and kept everyone in line, no one noticed that the palms of my hands were red or that I sometimes winced when I moved into one position or another.
I didn’t get undressed in front of Bob that night. I went to bed well before him and was able to change into a long nightgown without having to worry if he would see how red my bottom was or the marks on my breasts or thighs. And in the morning everyone was too busy to notice anything anyway.
I wished I could get away without a bra, but that just wasn’t possible while I was working. I put on an exercise bra because that was the softest and most comfortable. I couldn’t bear panties, no matter how soft. So I found a pair of harem style pants — not the new kind that hang down to your knees — something older and wore those with a cotton blouse. It was a run-around campus day for me anyway, so pants were definitely in order. I found soft socks and a pair of clogs for my feet.
Even though I thought I must have “freak” or “weirdo” tattooed on my forehead, no one else seemed to notice anything strange about me. Or at least no one at home or at the office said anything. Although Teresa gave me a funny look at one point while we were getting coffee from the departmental machine.
But I didn’t have any time to enjoy that coffee. At quarter-past nine the Therapy App rang on my phone again. “Jennifer Edelman,” it said when I looked at the screen. It gave an address in Graduate Student housing. I just stared at it for twenty seconds then hastily put it away. I wasn’t sure I could follow through with this. If this was the Jennifer Edelman I thought she was, I knew her. Her parents lived down the street from us and we’d used her as a babysitter for a couple of years while the kids were growing up.
I hadn’t seen either her or her parents in a while, but I was pretty sure my daughter Alison had told me when she’d run into Jennifer herself. I remember Alison saying that Jennifer was studying for her Doctorate. I turned to my computer and pulled up a student database. Strictly speaking we weren’t supposed to use this database most of the time, but we did have access when we needed it. I looked up Jennifer. My hand flew up to my mouth. Oh my God, it was her.
She had her own apartment in student housing and was indeed in a doctoral program: cross-disciplinary between psychology and computer science.
The App buzzed again. I looked at it and there was a question: “You are not moving. Is there some reason you are delaying?” There was a text box for an answer.
I typed, “I know her.”
The response took a second, but it came back, “Not a valid excuse. Listen to me, Pamela. Proceed to your Therapy Session.” I knew I could refuse, but I didn’t. Even the damn App was using the magic words on me now.
I grabbed my purse and coat and got into my car and drove to Graduate Student Housing. I wasn’t totally unknown for my department to come over here; we had to fix the wiring or support Grad Student IT problems as well. So, I was more or less familiar with the layout. I found güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri a parking spot and quickly found Jennifer’s apartment.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She opened it immediately. Jennifer was an average looking girl, with long brown hair pulled back into a tail with an elastic. She was wearing a camisole and pajama pants, like she’d just gotten up a few minutes ago. Her mid-sized breasts were firm and high and her nipples pushed lazily into the front of her cami. She smiled at me when she opened the door.
“Ah, Mrs. Burgin,” she said. “Come in.” She stepped back to let me in. “I was so excited when I saw your name come up this morning.”
I didn’t know what to say. In fact I found I couldn’t say anything. “Cat got your tongue, eh, Mrs. B? No worries, that happens sometimes. Come in, come in.” She waved me into her living room, which was dominated by a flat screen TV on one wall and a computer with two monitors on a desk on another wall. She picked up a tablet from the coffee table. It wasn’t an iPad, but I didn’t recognize what it was.
“I see you’ve been to see Dr. Brooks, Mrs. Adamms, and Ms. Nitsugawa in the last two days. That’s quite an opening act. Those are three of our most skilled therapists. What did you think of Libby Nitsugawa, eh, Mrs. B? She’s quite the artist isn’t she?”
I still couldn’t say anything. I just looked at her mutely.
“Oh right, no speech. Well, it’s not often the program selects such an august set of Therapists to start out the public therapy. You must really need it, Mrs. B. Show me your hands. The computer tells me that Libby whipped you there.”
I bent down to put my purse on the floor and held my hands in front of me for her to see. I was having a hard time reconciling this self-confident woman with the nervous, nerdy teenager who had babysat for my kids.
“Oh dear. Did anyone notice how red your hands were this morning?” I managed to shake my head. “No, that doesn’t really surprise me. We don’t notice these things in others, do we? Take off your shoes. I want to see your feet.”
I slipped off my shoes and lifted up my right foot to take off my sock. “Give my your foot,” Jennifer said. Her hand was held out before her. I stuck my foot out and balanced as best I could while Jennifer held my foot and looked it over. “Libby is truly an artist. Let me see your other foot now.”
We repeated the sock and foot dance and this time Jennifer ran her thumbnail along the sole of my foot, causing me to shiver and almost lose my balance. “Whoa, Mrs. B. Don’t fall.” She let my foot down. “Take your blouse off.” I just stood there and stared at her. It was one thing to let this girl look at my hands and feet. It was another thing to take off my top. “Pamela, listen to me. Take off your blouse. And your bra too. I want to see what Libby did your breasts.”
I blushed three shades of red but I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. Jennifer held her hand out and I handed my blouse to her. She tossed it over a chair. I pulled off my bra and she took that from me too. “Oh very nice,” Jennifer said looking at me. She extended her hand and touched the red streaked side of my breast. I flinched and stepped back. “Tender are we, Mrs. B.?” My hand went to my mouth and I lightly bit my finger lengthwise. I just nodded.
“I’m sure you are, Mrs. güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri B. Listen to me, Pamela, stand still.” She moved closer to me again and ran her fingers around my beasts, tenderly caressing the marks from Ms. Nitsugawa’s whipping with her belt. I just stared at her face; I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Then I felt her thumb flick across my nipple and flinched again. I hadn’t realized they were swollen, but they were. “Hold still, Mrs. B.” She flicked my nipples with her fingernails for a couple of seconds, sending waves of pain and pleasure through me.
“I wonder what was going on while she was whipping you, Mrs. B. Were you hoping it would end quickly? Or hoping it would continue? It’s clear from your records that you orgasm after most of your therapies. But you’re so quiet today. Maybe I need to look into the records some more?”
She stepped back. “Are you ready to take your pants off for me, Mrs. B.?” I just nodded. I had no control. I told myself that I could walk out anytime, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. I hooked my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my pants. “No,” Jennifer said, “turn around. I want to see your ass and how red it is.” That was a relief. I didn’t waste any time turning.
“Okay, go ahead.”
I pushed my pants down and lowered them to my knees, then stepped out of them one leg at a time. I stood holding them in front of me, one knee slightly bent. “No panties, Mrs. B.?” Jennifer asked with mock disdain. “What would Alison say? I’m sure you’ve told her she should never leave the house without panties. But no matter, your bottom is beautifully marked. Did you know that, Mrs. B.? Did you look at it in the mirror?”
I shook my head.
“Well you should have. Turn around now.” I slowly turned around, holding my pants at my waist, letting them fall to hide my sex. “Give me those,” Jennifer commanded and I handed them over to her. She put them on top of my shirt and bra on the chair. Then she turned back at me and immediately reached for and grabbed a little bit of my pubic hair. I winched as she gave the tuft a sharp pull.
“Women your age all have these pubes, Mrs. B. Why is that?” She made a show of examining my pubic hair. “Don’t you know how much neater it looks if you shave? It’s much easier to get someone to go down on a bare pussy too, you know.” She looked back at my eyes and let go. “But no matter. That’s not why we’re here, is it?” She stepped back so she could look at me better.
“Libby spanked your pussy, didn’t she? And Helen Brooks too, right? With a ruler for her, right?” Still I could only nod. “It’s so beautifully red. And Mrs. B., are you excited? Your clit is poking out.” She was smiling, clearly amused about that. “Well, I guess that’s no surprise is it? You’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you Mrs. B.? Who would have known? But while looking at you like this has been fun, you’re here for some Therapy.”
Brightly, she pulled another chair out from her dinette and sat down on it, patting her lap. “Assume the position, Mrs. B.”
It was always awkward to do this, but I folded myself across the young woman’s lap, preparing myself for the spanking I was expecting. But instead I felt her hand running up my thighs and around the cheeks of my bottom. “So beautifully red,” she said quietly. Her hand continued to caress me and I found myself güvenilir bahis şirketleri relaxing a little and enjoying the sensation of her hand. “You just can not keep your legs together can you, Mrs. B.?” Jennifer said. “I don’t think you need a spanking today. I think you need something else entirely.”
Her hand slid down from my bottom and without warning her fingers slid into my sex. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe it, but I was moaning in pleasure instead. Oh God.
“Yes, that’s it, Mrs. B. Just relax and enjoy.” Her fingers were sliding in and out of me now, pumping steadily. My traitorous pussy was responding by getting wetter and wetter, quivering with pleasure from it. I’d had three orgasms in the past two days, but those were from pain. This pleasure was going to bring me off and it would be totally different.
I managed to say something then. “Please stop, Jennifer. Please.”
Her hand came out of me and she lifted up the hand she’d had on my back holding me steady. “Okay, Pamela. That’s fine. You can get up.” But I couldn’t move. I just stayed in place. “That’s what I thought,” Jennifer said. She started fingering me again.
Before it had been sort of casual. Now it was insistent. I could feel the orgasm building in me, but it wouldn’t come. She kept pumping in and out of me, and I was at a tension point, but couldn’t crest. “Please, please,” I whispered. In response, Jennifer slid her hand out of my opening and down further between my legs to my clit. A few seconds of hard, vigorous diddling of my clit and I came.
I know I cried out louder than I think I’ve ever cried out in an orgasm before. I was shaking and squirming on her lap and I don’t know how she managed to keep me in place. It was one hand on my back, or rather my side and another between my legs as I quivered on her lap for I don’t know how long.
When I was done, she started again. But this time after rubbing me for a time or two, her fingers came up and I felt her slide a finger into my anus. Oh God, I’d never had anyone do that before. I’d told my husband “no way” when he’d asked for anal sex. Now this twenty something girl — who I used to employ as a babysitter — was fucking me in the ass with her finger. And I was letting her. And I came that way, damn it.
It was a totally different orgasm than the first one. Gentler, definitely, but somehow more complete. I never would have expected it. Would have said it was impossible. But it happened. Damn.
When that come faded she slowly took her finger out of my ass and gave me a gentle pat on my bottom.
“Time to get up, Mrs. B. I have a class to teach.” With difficulty I got up from the position and made it to my feet. “Go ahead and get dressed, Pamela dear. I’ll be out in a minute.”
She went into the bathroom and I heard the water running as I went numb-brained to my clothes and slowly pulled them on. By the time I was done, Jennifer was out of her bedroom, dressed in jeans and a top, sneakers on her feet and a knapsack in her hands. “Come on, come on,” she said, “I’ve got to go.”
She hustled me out of the door and locked it, then unlocked a bicycle from a stand and started riding off toward the main campus.
It wasn’t until I got into the car that my tears started. I sat in my car, shaking, tears streaming down my face, for fifteen minutes. When I finally got myself pulled together, I dried off my tears and pulled my makeup out of my purse to put myself back together.
Then I got on the phone to call Dr. Gupta. I got her answering machine, of course, but I left a message for her. “I need to see you. Today,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”
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