In Need of Counselling
Keywords: of, Counselling, Need, In,
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I knew my wife, Becky was unhappy just before Christmas. We had been married for five years and she seemed dissatisfied with everything. We had been incredibly unlucky. I'd been made redundant, we seemed incapable of having children and I had lost interest in sex. I refused to accept that there was anything wrong with our relationship yet she insisted we saw a marriage guidance councillor.
Becky made us an appointment with Dr Sophia who was recommended by a girlfriend of hers. The guidance centre was off the high street in a modern office block I hadn't noticed before. Sophia was tall and slim, about fifty, probably half Chinese and half European, with long black hair. She was also bewilderingly pretty, in a traffic-stopping sort of way.
She smiled at me then introduced herself.
'My, my,' she said looking me up and down as if a puppy in a shop. 'You're pretty.' I was somewhat taken back having never been referred to as pretty before. I blushed but on doing so a weird buzz coursed through me. I fidgeted awkwardly in my seat as she cut to the chase and asked Becky what the problem was. As they talked I gazed at Sophia. Her eyes were as bright as the headlights of an oncoming truck that made me feel like a startled hedgehog. I started off badly. I didn't see the point. I thought we where fine. Feeling the exercise was pointless. I sat back in my chair and let Becky do the talking. She explained that the sparkle had gone from our relationship and we rarely made love. She told Sophia how I managed without but she had needs and found it frustrating. She saw our relationship more as friends not lovers and what hurt the most... She thought I was losing my masculinity and becoming inadequate. Sophia smiled warmly and wrote copious notes and asked frequent, personnel, prying questions.
After ten minutes she pursed her lips at me and suggested I take a walk while she asks Becky some private questions... alone. Then she raised her hands and lifted her hair back over her shoulders. It was a gesture straight off a fashion shoot that made my heart melt. 'Run along and buy yourself a soft drink,' she said and handed me a couple of pounds in a "disappear and play manner", 'Becky and I have business to discuss.'
I didn't question her firm manner and meekly stood up to exit. Apparently my turn was next. I thought I heard her snigger as I left the two together but couldn't be sure. As instructed I went for a coffee at a small coffee shop just down the street.
On my return I was surprised to see Becky tucking her top into her trousers, looking hot, flushed and guilty.
In contrast, Sophia looked remarkably cool and collected. As predicted she asked Becky to leave and tapped the chair next to her in a provocative manner. The shiny leather squeaked like a distressed mouse as I sat down. I shivered. There was something about Sophia's presence that chilled me to the bone.
'You've got memorable smoky eyes, chiselled cheekbones and peach-perfect lips,' she says studying my face so intently I felt her probing my mind. She tenderly touches my cheek. I blush and wonder what she will ask. I didn't have to wait long. Sophia asked me a series of personal questions about Becky, my role in our relationship and my childhood. With every answer she would scribble a note on her pad. To me the questions seemed random and disjointed but irrespective of this she seemed delighted with my replies.
'What's your favourite girls name?' She asked out of the blue.
I stared blankly unsure of an answer. 'Becky I guess.'
Sophia crossed her long willowy legs and frowned impatiently. 'Besides your wife's name.'
I continue to stare at her blankly. I couldn't think.
'Let me help you,' she says, 'If you where a girl what would you like to be called?'
My mind cleared like the early morning fog. 'Tamsin,' I reply.
'Well done,' Sophia says making another note. 'That wasn't too painful was it?'
I nod. Her interview technique puzzled me.
In between the sort of standard counselling type question I expected, she would slip in a curve ball such as 'did I ever dream of being a girl? Or did I dress in women's clothes? It was all rather weird but I answered as truefully as I could and as we progressed through what I assumed was a standard if somewhat bizarre set of questions she seemed delighted with my response. After ten minutes she coolly told me to strip down to my pants for a medical. I thought I'd miss heard.
She scowled. 'You heard. Don't waste my time hurry up and strip. I've another client shortly.'
Did this explain Becky's state of dress I thought and though unorthodox I did what she asked. She was after all a Doctor and we trust Doctors don't we? Soon I stood in just my underwear as Sophia walked around me examining my puny frame. I shuddered in her cold office as my flesh went goosy. She writes notes and prods me with her expensive fountain pen as if a cow at a farmers market. She comments on the softness of my skin, my long slender legs, my tiny waist and my relative lack of body hair. I blush and to compound my embarrassment she produced a tape measure and began measuring parts of me. Waist, chest, hips and inside leg. Nothing escaped Sophia's scrutiny. With minimal muscle I knew wasn't very manly and I began to feel very inadequate.
'Slip out of your underwear,' she asks in a matronly tone. I wanted to refuse but her manner was forceful and full of purpose.
I silently did as she directed. Moments later with a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach I stood in front of her as she walked around me eye fully.
'You're rather small,' she said slipping on a pair of latex gloves. I nod fearfully as she slips the tape measure around my cock's girth. She smirks, makes a note then measures its length.
'I'm cold,' I say in a way of justifying my diminutive stature.
'Yes, of course.' She nods pointing to my chair. 'Now bend over this and do as I ask.'
Of course, what I should have done was throw my clothes back on, call her a weirdo and storm out of her office. But I didn't do that. Instead, I wobbled, flopped over the chair like a patterned throw and grabbed the arms to keep myself from falling over. More mouse squeaks but this time I stare ahead and focus on a scrap of paper on the floor.
She shuffles up to me and draws a stainless steel, trolley to my side like a dentist and its hard contents rattle alarmingly as its wheels trundle across the floor.
'This may feel uncomfortable but I need to examine you thoroughly.' She taps my inner thighs with the stiff end of the tape measure. 'Spread your legs.'
'Sorry?' I say helplessly but as my bottom lip trembles I do as she asks.
I gulp and shuffle my feet apart as I press down on to the back of the chair raising my exposed arse even higher.
Silently I feel her slim fingers now coated in a lubricating jelly, slip gently between my smooth cheeks and finger my hole teasingly. I can't resist a tiny moan.
I glance over my shoulder nervously to see her smiling obviously enjoying her work. 'Is this really necessary?' I ask.
'For Gods sake, most definitely,' she replies.
'And did you do this to Becky?' I ask.
She pauses before replying. 'That's for you to wonder and me to know. Patient confidentiality and all that. But since you asked I do what is required. Both of you are different and require separate treatment. Now do shut up and let me concentrate.'
'But what are you looking for, ' I demand.
She ignores my question and thrusts another two fingers inside and my eyes widen. 'You surprise me, you're surprisingly tight.'
I wasn't sure what she meant - I didn't care at this point. I want to scream, demand she stops and pull from her grasp but I feel restrained and powerless like an infant.
I'm now speechless as her fingers prise me apart as deeper and deeper she plunges into me. Then something unexpected happens - my tiny cock throbs and begins to twitch. I blush with humiliation and hope my arousal goes unnoticed but nothing seems to escape the professional Dr Sophia. She indeed notes its change and pushes even deeper, seemingly fascinated by my reaction. Was this what she was testing for or was I being overtly sensitive?
She spreads her fingers wider stretching my muscle to breaking point as if the exercise was to determine how much abuse I could take. I lost count but think she manages to squeeze four fingers inside me before I scream and my cock stiffens like a rod of iron and I can't resist pushing back onto her probing fingers.
'Very good,' she cries but rather than push deeper she withdrew her inquisitive fingers as if I'd passed the test. She then prises my hole apart with a thumb and forefinger. 'This looks perfect...' She pauses as her eyes examine my spread buttocks and her free hand rummages in the trolley by her side. 'I want you to wear this until you get home... then as and when Becky feels necessary.'
I was going to ask what but that's when I feel the firm plastic press against my muscle but this time my hole is nicely stretched and lubricated and the plug slides comfortably into position. Sophia gives it a press and my cock that had been bursting at the seams spurts a dribble of cum onto the floor. I blush and struggle to stand.
'I don't see how this helps our relationship.' I sob.
Sophia laughs. 'It won't alone but in conjunction with my other recommendations it will do wonders for a sissy girl like you.'
'I'm not a sissy girl.' I say.
'Ah,' said Sophia. In a tone of voice that I didn't like one bit. 'We're going to fix that right now.'
I felt as though my heart had been replaced with a bag of frozen peas. 'What's that supposed to mean,' I said.
'Oh. For crying out loud,' Sophia sounded annoyed. 'You really are pathetic. Aren't you? All right then. I'll explain, shall I?' she said. 'And then we can get on with it, whether you like it or not.'
I tried to rise, but she reached out and gripped me round the back of the neck so firmly I could scarcely breathe.
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Keywords: of, Counselling, Need, In,