Mind to Bend (Stolen Obsessions Book 1)

Do I trust him?

As far as doctor-patient exchanges go, I must admit that Shane’s actions are far from ethical. But I also have to point out how complicit I have been in that. I asked him to hold me time and time again, agreed to dance with him, and watched him while he came. Those things trampled the lines between us, but I wanted it that way. I didn’t have to come back here, but I did, and there’s a reason for that.

Empirically, the answer is no. I shouldn’t trust Shane. He is not behaving as someone should in his position. Yet, that reasonable part of my brain means nothing to the whole because my trust in Shane emanates from somewhere deep inside me that could not give less of a fuck about state boards.

“Yes,” I answer, wide-eyed as I compare myself to Eve taking the apple from the serpent.

He smiles briefly, but the expression oozes such satisfaction that heat travels from my knees to my neck.

“I’d like to help you.”

I’m fascinated by how his lips move and his throat dips as he swallows.

“I want that too.”

“Then spread your legs.”

I’m wearing leggings, and absolutely nothing is revealed by doing as he asks, but his gaze heats, and I freeze as I stare at my thighs.

“If you don’t want to do this, say the word, and I’ll stop. I will never bring it up again or ask to do anything more than what a psychiatrist should. But something tells me you don’t just want my help. You need it, and you’re much too good of a girl to ask for it.”

I sit there speechless, not opening my legs, not arguing. Am I a good girl? I don’t feel like one. But I can’t deny I want to be one for him or how desperate, wet, and aching I am at the thought of pleasing him.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Seraphina?”

I shake my head because he’s not. But I’m uncomfortable from the deep and needy ache inside me. I’m hollow and as aroused by the idea of needing to be filled as I am disgusted with myself for thinking it.

“If you want my help, spread your legs. If not, I swear I’ll lean back and never bring it up again.”

Before he can press his back to the chair and close the door on my most depraved desires, my legs snap open. The wicked grin on Shane’s face tells me I played into his mind games exactly how he expected.

Fuck, I’m going to hell.

“You should close your eyes. It will make this easier.”

I should question him. At least ask how he plans to help get me off. But, instead, I let my eyes fall closed.

“I’m not watching you, Seraphina. You are safe. Why don’t we start with some breathing exercises?”

I’m nervous, but I’m relieved. Breathing doesn’t seem so scary. I listen as Shane instructs me to lean my head back while he takes me through a long series of breathing exercises. At first, I find them annoying, then kind of meditative. By the time he’s led me through the fifth one, I’m more relaxed and looser than I have ever been, maybe, even a little drunk. My limbs float beside me, completely out of order. Shane’s still talking, and my body responds to him as if his words are sinking in and becoming part of me.

When his deep, even voice says, “Rub your pussy through the fabric,” I don’t question it. Instead, I reach down tentatively, my fingers trailing the sensitive skin. My eyes stay closed as my fingers continue drifting up and down. There’s a light tickle, and I feel much more aroused than the last time I tried to touch myself, but nothing spectacular is happening.

“How does that feel?”

It’s the first question he’s asked since he started taking me through this hypnotic relaxation process. I don’t feel like myself, and while I try to form the words to tell him it’s nice or okay, when nothing comes out, I shrug.

“Use your words, Seraphina.”

His command unlocks something in me, and I open my mouth to speak.

“It’s okay. It tingles a bit but isn’t amazing.”

“It’s not supposed to feel amazing, Seraphina. It’s supposed to tease you and make you want more. Do you want more?”

I try to think for a moment, but it takes longer than usual. I’m so attuned to my thoughts that I feel like I am them. I’m horny down to my fucking bones. I’m so wet my leggings are clinging to my thighs. I vaguely realize I swore in my thoughts, which is odd. Something about this is weird, yet I can’t bring myself to care.

“Tell me what you want, Seraphina.”

“I want more.”

“Slip your fingers inside your leggings.” I do, and even though I know exactly where they are supposed to go, my fingers are trapped and obediently waiting for him. “Find your clit.”

I reach between my labia, trying to do as he said. I know where it is in theory. This should be easy. My fingers search, not finding it, and a sense of unease swells inside me. I want to do as he says, but I can’t. This isn’t working. I’m wrong. My shoulders tense, and in this supremely vulnerable place, I’m sure my failure will result in punishment.

“Seraphina, relax. Take a breath for me.”

I obey immediately and completely. My fingers still, my shoulders fall, and I drift into an almost thoughtless sort of contentment.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t find my clit, and it aches.” I’m whining, and part of me knows I should be embarrassed by how desperately needy I am. Part of me knows I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but I don’t feel in control.

“Do you want me to help you find it?” Shane’s smooth voice continues, guiding me through this odd experience.

“Yes and no,”

“Tell me in detail what’s bothering you.”

“I want to orgasm so bad it hurts, but I don’t want to be a cheater.”

“I won’t touch you,” he promises. “I’m just going to help you make yourself come.”

“What should I do?”

“Get naked from the waist down, and spread your thighs. I need a good look at you.”

His words fill my body with heat, and the spot between my thighs pools with arousal. I wonder if he’ll be able to see it, and I’m both embarrassed and turned on by the idea.

My hands feel disconnected, I try to push my legging down, but I’m not getting it.

“Open your eyes.”

I do, and for some reason, I couldn’t do that without his say-so. Next, I remove my leggings and spread myself wide for Shane.

“As wide as you can, Seraphina, and then look at yourself.”

Again, I comply.

“You’re a very good girl, Seraphina. You take direction so well.”

His praise washes over me like a steaming bubble bath. I have always been very obedient, but Shane has me feeling so much more than that. I feel pliable and suggestible. I’d do anything for him.

“Spread your cunt so I can see every inch of you and help you find that clit.”

I reach down with both hands and spread myself wide, revealing every inch to him and me. I’ve never heard that word used in a sexual context, but instead of scandalized, I appreciate the hotness. I like how quick, sharp, and wrong it sounds.

I hear him stand and start to approach me. I want to look up and meet his eyes, but I can’t do anything other than what he tells me. I stare at my parted cunt, because that’s what he called it, and no other word seems to make sense anymore. My cunt is so wet I can see the liquid gathering at my entrance. I know he can see it too, and yet there is no shame. I’m only burning for what happens next.

He drops to his knees in front of me, and he’s close enough to my cunt that I can finally see him without moving my eyes. He’s concentrating on the pink flesh I’m showing him. His scrutiny is serious, and deep down, I know this depth of attention should make me nervous. In fact, I should squirm and blush and close my thighs rather than stare obediently.

“I think I see the problem,” his voice is matter-of-fact, and rather than feeling terror at the word problem, I remain patient for his analysis. I wonder if Tim somehow knows there’s something wrong with me without ever getting this close.

“What’s the problem?” my voice sounds like it belongs to someone else.

“Your pretty little clit is tiny, Angel. I bet if I sucked it for you, I could get it nice and swollen and sensitive.”

I don’t respond. It’s not a question.

“You would love the way that felt, wouldn’t you, Angel?”

“I don’t know.” That’s the truth. That name, he’s called me Angel a few times before, but now it makes me tingle from head to toe.

“Your clit is little, Angel.”

As he promised, he hasn’t touched me, but I sense how much he wants to. His need is so potent that it’s reaching me in my dreamlike state, and I cannot help but respond to it.

“Do you want me to suck on it for you? That way, you can find it easier while I teach you how to masturbate.”

I don’t answer because I still don’t know.

“Tell me what’s holding you back.”

“Is having a small clit bad?” I ask, releasing my self-doubt. I’m watching myself as he instructs, and he’s so close to my parted flesh I watch him lick his lips hungrily in my periphery.

“You’re perfect, Angel. I swear.”

“Please suck my clit for me, Doctor Shane.”

In half a second, his mouth is on me. He’s not licking me how I have seen and heard oral sex described. Instead, he’s doing what he offered precisely. He’s sucking on my clit, giving it a kind of pressure and attention I scarcely understand. The obscene pleasure registers in my brain, and I cry out only once before he releases me.

Dear God, I had a mouth on my cunt, and all I can think about is how badly I want more. Shane leans back, staying close so he can inspect my progress.

“Nice and swollen now, Angel. Touch yourself.”

I reach down, and sure enough, the tiny pleasure center is swollen, engorged with blood, and so much easier to find. Shane stands and, I assume, goes to his desk. He returns with a compact makeup mirror, and I wonder who he got it from as he kneels in front of me.

“Look at the mirror.”

My eyes flick to the reflection.

“Your cunt is small, Angel. Your clit is small, but the significant issue is that your hood covers it.”

As I probe myself, he tilts the mirror so I can see what he means. It feels good, but it’s nothing compared to when he latched his mouth to it.

“It might help if you pull your hood back while you touch it, or it might be too sensitive. Try it and see what you prefer.”

I look at myself in the mirror, doing as he said and pulling back the skin covering my clitoris. I touch it with my fingertip, and oh fuck. It’s so much more sensitive this way.

“Oh, God,” a surprised moan escapes me.

He chuckles, “Everyone likes it in different ways, Angel. Try circles, side to side, up and down.” I try each one, spending a few minutes giving them their proper due. I really like up and down. My hips start bouncing in time with my hand.

“You’re doing so good. I bet you feel amazing right now. Your cunt is so pretty.”

I do feel amazing. Shane’s words are building me up to an impossible high, along with the sensations and weightlessness of the situation. I don’t know why I’m not thinking straight, and I don’t care. There’s something wrong, though, and I can’t place it.

“This feels good, but I don’t think I’m going to come.” I sound defeated, almost whimpering.

“Look at my face,” I do, and there’s a haziness around him as if his face is all I can see. He regards me with pity, like helping me is the only thing he wants in the world. “Can I help you, Angel? Only with my fingers and maybe my tongue. I promise I will only touch your pretty cunt. Just let me help you come.”

“Please,” I whine frantically, beyond thought. Shane leans forward, and he spreads me further. I let out a startled moan as his finger pushes into my entrance and stretches me out. He gets further in than I expected before he meets resistance. My hymen is still in place.

“This may sting.”

“I need to come,” I answer as I twitch my hips forward, coming just short of using his hand to take my own virginity.

“You’re incredible. I’m so proud of you for taking what you want from my hand. Are you going to take your pleasure the same way, dirty Angel?”

I twitch my hips forward. The need is indescribable, but I can’t get past that stupid skin myself. I don’t know how.

He smiles wickedly. “Don’t worry, Angel. I’ve got you this time.” He pushes into me. My hymen breaks under two of his fingers. He doesn’t need much time to find a spot inside me that makes me see stars. “Keep rubbing that little clit. I’m teaching you how to do this, remember.”

“Yes, Shane.” Though it sounds more like a moan, it’s the first time I’ve said his name, and he groans in response.

I keep rubbing my clit. He’s stroking my insides, filling me, and pumping into me in a sublime rhythm I can’t explain, and that’s when I notice this pressure building inside of me.

“I’m going to pee!” I complain.

“No, you’re not. Just relax.”

The most intense wave of pleasure washes over me. I’m shaking, my body convulsing, and I’m peeing everywhere. The haze I’ve been under shatters with my orgasm, and I’m wrung out to my bones.

“I’m so sorry,” I start apologizing when Shane dives face-first into my spread flesh, licking the liquid from my lips, thighs, and the leather couch. “Oh my God! Ew! What are you doing? I peed!”

He laughs as his tongue laves the puddle, “It’s not pee, Seraphina. It’s squirt.” He looks up at me with a mischievous smile on his face. “Well, there’s a little bit of pee in it, but it’s mostly your cum. And it happens to be fucking delicious.”

“My cum?” I ask. My brain still hasn’t engaged.

“That little cunt came hard,” he shrugs as he stands. “If you don’t want me to take your virginity, it’s time for you to put your pants on.”

The image of Tim pops into my head, and instead of letting Shane take it, I put my leggings on and let the shame overwhelm me.

What the fuck did I do?

I don’t look at him as I try to make myself presentable.

“Seraphina,” my eyes flick up to his, “I’ll see you for our next session. Please let Tim know he still has his appointment if he wants it.”

“You’d still see him?”

“Of course.” He looks insulted by the suggestion. “He’s gone through a traumatic experience, and if I can help him process that, I’m more than happy to.”

“Oh, okay.”

I pick up my bag and head for the door, my cheeks hurt in embarrassment, and I have no clue what to do or say. Shane stands there, the picture of ease with his lips still wet from me. I’m hot and aching all over, and I hate myself so fucking much right now because the shame and the desire both burn equally. I don’t even notice that I’m cursing in my thoughts more regularly.

My hand is on the knob when he says, “I’ll see you next week, Seraphina.” His voice is level, so perfectly even. I, on the other hand, am a complete mess.

“Mhm…”

I use all my self-control to walk out of the office rather than run full tilt.

He doesn’t follow after me, and I’m grateful for it. I need to be alone. I need to be alone so fucking bad, but I’m out of time. My “errands” shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, and Tim will question where I’ve been. Surely he doesn’t suspect the truth, though, after last night, he may be closer than I want him to be. And I want to die for what I’ve done.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so low, and I’ve never hated myself this way. But, like the dirty slut I am, I enjoy the pulsing throb in my cunt, and I know I’m turned on by how wrong this is. Whatever Shane’s done, it has broken a wall, and the word seems to fit now. I’m aroused by how ashamed I am. I long to return to whatever place he brought me, and I know he’s the only one who can take me there since I’ve never been there before.