The Therapist

Very early yesterday morning, when Mistress and Slave were engaged in a pre-dawn sexual marathon, we got talking....

For us, a little verbal speculation and story telling adds fuel to our considerable fires... and no one has ever been indicted for being a sexual arsonist, right?

Somehow, the evening before, we had discussed a therapist I had visited with in our pre-contract days, when we were trying to patch things together after Slave's "indiscretion". She was a wise, grandmotherly type, who did a good job of cutting through my BS in a non-judgmental way, holding up a mirror so I could see with clarity why I had "stepped in it", at the peril of my own well being and my most important relationships.

But when this conversation was revisited the next morning, as I grazed on Mistress's clean shaven folds, and she gripped my engorging cock, it was  re-imagined with Mistress in the role of a different sort of therapist.

(Have we mentioned here that Mistress has an MA in Psychology?  She's never used it as a therapist or counselor, but maybe some day....)

"I could see you playing that role, Mistress.... but with a twist..."

"How so, Slave....."

"Well.... maybe as a "last chance" option for wives  to bring their wandering husbands...."

By now I'm teasing a nipple, and Mistress's grip on my balls and cock is tightening.

"And how would that work?"

"Naturally, there would be waivers signed... to cover any potential claims arising from your unconventional, experimental approach...., both by the husband and the wife."

"Of course, Slave.... but go on."

It was around this time that Mistress instructed me to retrieve her Hitachi.

"Your approach would be a complete mental re-conditioning, Mistress....some hands-on retraining that would turn the miscreant husband  into someone who longs only to worship his mate, the way I worship you....."

At this point Mistress had become a little distracted by the powerful tool engaged at the juncture of those well conditioned thighs. But she was still trying to focus on the story.

"And how would I do that Slave?'

'Well it would have to be very interactice..... That first session would end with him between these thighs, discovering the convenience of your peek-a-boo tights."

"And after that?"

"A cock cage of course.... with two keys.... one for you, and one for the wife...., a very disciplined approach to when, where, how and with whom your patient could cum."

"What if the wife was not into this sort of thing....."

"I suspect you would have to train her some to, though some women would probably be more than happy to delegate the 'dirty work' to you....."

"You mean the ass fucking, Slave...."

"Exactly...."

Somewhere, at around this point in the story, there was an intermission, and Mistress thrashed and moaned her way through a rather intense cum, and demanded that I  fuck her.

And the story was set aside, as I eagerly followed her explicit instruction.  But I'm thinking we may need to resume this story line in a few moments, after I shut down the laptop.

But, 'Nilla, feel free to flesh this one out. (I guess there could be a gender reversal too.)