The New York City skyline stretched out before me as I stood on the rooftop of my luxurious penthouse apartment. The vibrant lights of the city just intensified the world of emotions I felt at the moment. I'm Dr. Connor Miller, a British psychiatrist now living in the heart of the beautiful city but I was also living through a crumbling marriage.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The divorce proceedings had taken a toll on me, both emotionally and mentally. But as a psychiatrist who specialized in treating patients with out-of-control fetishes, I knew better than anyone the complexities of human desire.
My profession taught me to embrace the darkest corners of the human mind and to guide my patients towards self-acceptance and healing if it was needed or possible. In some cases it's not.
I was wearing a tailored navy suit that accentuated my tall and athletic frame, I was very confident, I'm sure you picked up on that already. Brown hair and piercing blue eyes completed the picture. I like to believe that I was both attractive and sophisticated in my own way. I took pride in my appearance, always maintaining a stylish attire that reflected my tastes.
Deep inside me on multiple levels, there were layers to my secret desires that even fewer knew about. Alongside my love for cross-dressing, there was a particular fascination that turned me on sexually, It was the look of leg casts and usage of crutches that I included sometime in my exploration of my femininity.
I understand that me wearing stockings, high heel pump, and a leg cast, is a wave of contradiction for a psychiatrist that helps others with similar fetishes.
In my case it's the elegance and the illusion of fragility that I like, not the pain or the broken bones. Only my ex wife ever saw me dressed and on crutches. It was a secret that when explained to my ex-wife was the beginning of the end of our marriage.
I loved the feel of pantyhose against my skin and the sexiness that came with slipping into an elegant high heel shoe and moving around on crutches. It was a form of self-expression that allowed me to explore my own boundaries and hidden desires.
But my focus was on my patients. I had built a reputation as a compassionate and understanding therapist that often used a hands on approach, drawing in a diverse clientele. However, I had a particular fondness for smart, professional women who possessed troubled fetishes. There was something alluring about their complexities and the depth of their sexual desires.
Earlier that morning, I had finalized my divorce with my ex-wife. As the ink dried on the last signature, relief washed over me. It had been a necessary step towards closure. I thought about the dreams we once shared that opening up about my fetishes had literally killed.
My cell phone buzzed with a message. It was a notification from my lawyer, indicating that the divorce papers were officially filed. I couldn't help but let out a sigh about my possible newfound freedom.
I dialed my ex-wife's number and she answered on the first beep.
"Hello, Sarah. It's done. The divorce is final."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, a moment of silence that held years of history between us.
"Connor, I hope this is what you wanted. I truly wish you all the best and I'm sorry I could not accept or understand that side of you." We both knew what she was talking about.
"Thank you, Sarah. I hope we both find happiness."
With those parting words, I didn't speak to my ex wife for a few months, actually until I needed a ride from the hospital after I.. that's for another part of my story.
As I entered my private practice, I started thinking of my one patient that day. She was Officer Ava Reynolds, a beautiful policewoman with a commanding presence. Dressed in her uniform, she radiated confidence as she settled onto the plush leather couch. Her stern expression softened as she began to open up about the deep desires that haunted her.
The room was filled with classical music, I always found that in some cases it helped my patients open up about the sensuality of our conversation. As Ava spoke, I was under the impression that I felt vulnerability. She talked to me about her fetish in details, where she often forced her partners, multiple of them she specified into some role-playing scenarios.
I was so curious since she was my first policewoman client and I had never dated one. I encouraged her to share more, to describe the intricate details of her desires. Ask and you shall receive, Ava painted vivid pictures, providing examples that illustrated her need for dominance and submission. She spoke of the thrill she felt, the rush of authority that consumed her when she used her handcuffs during sex with her partners.
One of my weaknesses showed next, Unable to contain my curiosity, I felt a surge of sexual arousal. With a gentle yet assertive voice, I asked,
"Ava, could you demonstrate to me what you do with the handcuffs? Help me understand the sensations and emotions that ignite your passion, before, during and after."
There was a momentary pause, enough for my penis to double in size, I saw excitement in Ava's eyes. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she regarded me. Slowly, she approached, her eyes on my obvious erection, her fingers grazing mine as she reached for the handcuffs discreetly tucked away in her belt.
With a deliberate grace, 5 foot 5 Ava roughly turned me around and bound my wrists together, creating in me a crazy sense of vulnerability. She slid her hand along my fully erected penis, guiding me through the sensations, my choice to surrender or she would control me, maybe even hurt me. Each click of the cuffs is still echoing in my office.
Time seemed to stand still until Ava expertly pushed me down on the chair and sat on my lap while she explored the intricate power dynamics that lay at the core of her fetish. She kissed me, her touches were firm yet gentle and in return I felt so many emotions.
As her sensual demonstration came to an end, our eyes met, and the sexual energy lingered in the air. We both knew that this journey could be far from over. The boundaries of our therapeutic relationship blurred, giving way to a complex situation of pure desire and fascination.
I whispered, "Ava, we started a profound exploration.We will continue to discover your desires and how to control them. Trust that I am here to guide you"
At that moment, I felt a spark from passion, vulnerability and the potential for good and bad. Little did I know at the time that my next patient scheduled for tomorrow at 10 am was going to totally rock my boat physically, mentally and... sexually.
Her name was Sophie
Psychiatrist
Part 2
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