Psychiatrist part 2

As I prepared for my first session with Sophie Thompson, my heart raced with anticipation. She had been described as a high-end lawyer, a woman of undeniable intelligence and she was very beautiful. As I observed Sophie's captivating presence, I couldn't help but wonder what secrets or fetishes she might be sharing with me during our sessions.

When she walked into my dimly lit room, I couldn't have anticipated the magnetic presence that awaited me. I know that may sound very unprofessional but I knew right away that she was going to be much more than just a patient.

Sophie stood tall walking into the room, her presence commanding attention. As I observed her, I couldn't help but envision her in a courtroom, passionately addressing the jury with eloquence and conviction. The jury members hung onto her every word, their undivided attention drawn to her presence.

She wore sexy high-heeled pumps that accentuated the curves of her long, shapely legs, inviting my eyes to follow their graceful movement as she walked towards me. With each step, her heels clicked against the floor, creating an enticing rhythm that reminded me of when I was walking on one heel, leaning on crutches and having my one leg bent and wrapped like a sexy amputee or in a recreational leg cast.

However, as she approached I noticed a subtle yet intriguing limp in her stride. A hint of vulnerability that made her presence even more captivating. The slight sway in her walk added a layer, drawing me in with a mixture of fascination, tenderness and sexual questions.

As she reached me, her smile was warm and honest, a combination that sent a rush of desire through me. The way she extended her small hand for a firm handshake exuded confidence. Her touch was electrifying, leaving me momentarily captivated by the spark of our connection.

"Hello, Dr. Miller," she said with a voice that was warm.

"I'm Sophie Thompson, pleased to meet you."

Her words were accompanied by a captivating gaze that held an air of mystery, drawing me closer with an invisible pull. There was an unspoken invitation to explore more.

She settled on the plush leather couch with poise, I took a seat facing her. She crossed her long legs in a way that emphasized the beauty of her high heels. The soft curves of her small, firm breasts peeked under her stylish blouse, and her curly, long hair framed her face while her curious eyes framed by sleek glasses stared at me, almost analyzing me.

I cleared my throat, momentarily caught off guard by some immediate attractions that I wasn't expected

"Pleased to meet you too, Sophie, hoping that together, we will work towards understanding and addressing any challenges you may be facing. I'm here to provide a supportive and non-judgmental space for you to explore your thoughts and emotions."

I found myself unable to look away from her legs, my imagination running wild with thoughts of how it would feel to touch her pantyhose covered limbs and which colour of casting material she might choose the next time she had an accident and broke her delicate foot, ankle or leg. Maybe even the right ankle she was limping on as she walked into my office.

"Feel free to share anything that's on your mind, and we'll work together to find strategies that can help you cope and thrive." I replied, my voice is steady.

She didn't say anything, she just looked elegant on the couch, her curly, long hair cascading down and past her shoulders and she held an air of mystery.

She knew how to increase expectations and while she was ready to say something my attention went to the soft curve of her lips...waiting for her to say something but instead she stretched out her long legs forcing myself to look down pass her nipples barely peeking through her tight fitting blouse, down those shapely legs to her small feet in gorgeous heels emphasizing her femininity.

I took a moment longer, maybe too long, to admire her. She was beautiful, full of sex appeal, secrets and love for fetishes.

She smiled, noticing me staring. Her smile was both inviting and hesitant as she replied,

"Dr. Miller, I'm so happy that you accepted me as your patient," she expressed, her gaze locking onto mine. In that moment, it felt like she wanted me on multiple levels, her beautiful smile resembling that of a cat who was about to devour a mouse.

As we began our session, I sensed Sophie's initial discomfort in discussing her fetish problems. It was a sensitive subject, one that required trust and understanding. I offered her reassurance, emphasizing the confidentiality of our conversations, encouraging her to share openly and honestly but I knew I needed to be careful not to push too much.

Sophie took a deep breath, a subtle shift in her posture evident as she settled comfortably. Her eyes briefly smiled at me, before she lowered her gaze to her right ankle. Slowly, she crossed her legs with deliberate precision, her movements slow, sensual and deliberate.

Her long, slender fingers began to trace a gentle path along the contours of her ankle, caressing it with a tenderness that suggested that she may have inflicted pain to her own body in the past, a line that I wouldn't cross. Each stroke seemed purposeful, as if she was conveying a message to herself through touch alone.

As her fingers continued, I couldn't help but imagine the delicate texture of her pantyhose under those skilful fingertips. It was as if her touch, her light pain in her ankle held sensations and emotions that only a fetish could ever produce.

She painted, without saying anything, a vivid picture, of a woman unafraid to explore the depths of her sensuality and sexuality to embrace the intricate beauty and danger physically and emotionally of being attached to such sexual fetishes. I could almost say that Sophie was in love with her fetishes.

"Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning," she began and I knew I was in for an incredible ride.

"I've always been drawn to all aspects of pain, both receiving and giving. It's a complicated mix of sensations and emotions that arouse me sexually and sensually in ways I can't fully explain."

I kept looking at her fingers rubbing over and over her foot, ankle and lower leg. She was almost tracing where the cast would start and end on a clean break.

"When my mother badly broke her leg in a car accident, I felt so bad for her. She hated her cast and crutches. She hated the whole experience and yet every night after touching her full leg cast during the day, I would masturbate with envy of being in a cast like hers. Many years later, I still don't understand why it started by touching myself to orgasm and playing with her crutches to actually breaking my own limb." She stared at me, smiling.

"That explain why I'm opening to you doctor"

I was listening, allowing her to set the pace as she explained the complexities of her desires. I had read about her mother, a famous local doctor breaking her leg in 3 places, it is a very small world in a big city.

She spoke of her attraction to the vulnerability that came with using crutches with non weight bearing, of pain, or a potential mix of both. It was a sensation that she had kept hidden from the world for so long until she started acting on it with partners.

"As a very public lawyer, I have to maintain a certain level of professionalism in my life, these conversations could never be made public doctor" she continued, her voice showing excitement and she crossed her legs at the ankle like women do so beautifully. The injured right ankle on top.

"But beneath the surface, there's a part of me that wants to let go, to do so much more than sprain my ankle to explore desires without judgment or shame. To be in court the sexy lawyer that I want to be, unable to walk, to be put any weight on my broken limb and cast"

"Sophie, your desires are not uncommon, and there's nothing to be ashamed of except You have to understand that self..." I stopped, thinking of my own fetishes and desires.

She took a deep breath and that stopped me, a subtle shift in her posture evident as she settled comfortably. Her left heel planted down solidly. She then lowered her gaze to her right ankle. Slowly, she crossed her legs with deliberate precision, her movements unhurried and deliberate.

"Tell me to stop, doctor," She suggested.

"Sorry?" I said

Her long, slender fingers began to rub her sprained ankle, taking a strong hold of it that suggested an intimate connection with her own body. She then started to rotate her foot purposefully, as if she was now sending me a message, explaining through actions alone.

"Tell me to stop, doctor," she repeated.

As her fingers pulled her foot inward, exploring how far one can twist her own ankle, before damages were done before...

"Tell me doctor or do you want me to break it? I was told that you like your patient to show you more than tell you about their relationship with fetishes" I shifted on my chair to get comfortable to hide my erection, to find the proper words.

"Like I said you shouldn't..." And I stopped but...I couldn't help but notice the swelling and discoloration of her brown skin under those skilful fingertips. With every twist she was closer.

Closer to what?

I was frozen, in my mind I was wearing a skirt, pantyhose and my crutches beside me watching her.

"Doctor?" She quietly said, almost pleading, almost moaning.

Part 3 to come
K