Sunday, August 6, 2023
Psychiatrist part 3
In that moment, it became clear that Sophie's actions were not merely physical, I could only begin to comprehend how intense her fetish was. She was a woman in touch with her own desires and she was unafraid to explore pain, sensuality, sexuality and so much more to please her desires.
She stopped twisting her foot and ankle. I knew some damage was already done when she put her right heel down and winced from the pain, her voice grew softer.
"I've often wondered if these desires make me strange or abnormal, Dr. Miller. I wondered if a Doctor like you would stop me before I did damage or even broke something."
I leaned in, my voice gentle.
"Sophie, you are not strange or abnormal. I'm here to help you navigate, not judge, to offer understanding and support, mentally and physically."
"Thank you, Dr. Miller."
As our first session came to a close, I reassured her that our exploration had only just begun. Sophie smiled warmly, her small, firm breasts rising and falling with each breath like she knew what was coming. She stood with most of her weight on her injured ankle that buckled right away.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw Sophie's ankle bent from the top of her high heel shoe and her body falling. In an instant, she stumbled, and her leg collided with the edge of the coffee table. The sound of the impact and the break of her bone echoed in the room. I rushed to her side, with a mix of concern and fascination filling my emotions.
"Are you alright?" I asked, worried but knowing.
She winced, but her smile remained intact, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of pain and playfulness.
"I'll survive, Dr. Miller. Just a clumsy moment."
Her resilience amazed me, but I couldn't shake the fact that this accident was connected to her fascination with pain, leg and arm casts. As a doctor, I was trained to remain professional and understanding, but a part of me struggled with my own attraction to these fetishes and to this tall and sexy woman.
"I will call an ambulance; your leg might be broken," I said with genuine concern.
"No need Dr. Miller, I mean yes, my leg is broken," she replied, a hint of excitement in her voice. She closed her eyes for a second or two while a wave of pain hit her.
"I can feel the two pieces of my tibia grinding against each other, but help me up and let me lean against you for support. You can take me to the hospital."
Her words surprised me, but a part of me couldn't deny the intrigue in the situation. As her therapist, I knew I should maintain a professional demeanor, yet her shared fetish resonated with my own desires.
I helped her to stand, I couldn't help but notice how vulnerable she was with a broken leg, no cast to protect it and no crutches to help her mobility. Despite the pain, there was a glint of excitement in her eyes, an intimacy shared between two individuals who understood the intricacies of each other's desires and fetish.
As I supported Sophie, my arm securely around her small waist, I couldn't help but let my gaze drift down to her injured leg. Even through the pantyhose, I could clearly see a misalignment of her tibia. The sexy lawyer had a fractured leg beneath the fabric of her black pantyhose, could she get sexier?
With each step we took together, her broken leg gently elevated to avoid putting any weight on it, I found myself drawn towards her. The sight of her broken leg, her quietly painful moaning and her fully erected nipples turned me on like nothing had before.
We made our way towards the elevator one hop at a time, our bodies pressed against each other, a surge of excitement washed over me, the lines between therapist and patient blurred even more.
We stepped into the elevator with an electrifying sexual tension. The doors closed behind us, enclosing us in a private space where the outside world ceased to exist. With my arm still supporting Sophie around her waist, our bodies remained close, and I could smell her perfume all around me.
I knew she was in pain and yet she leaned her firm and strong body against mine. Her tight little ass against my penis. Right away I got even harder with a bit of precum. Did she do it on purpose? I wanted to kiss her so badly to feel her lips against mine.
As the elevator reached its destination, I hesitated to let go of Sophie, reluctant to break the intimate connection we had established. But the doors opened, Sophie's pain was evident, as I guided her towards the indoor parking lot.
I hurried to the parking lot, our intimate encounter in the elevator lingered in my thoughts.
I returned with my car to find Sophie leaning against the wall waiting, her radiant smile softened by the pain she endured. Assisting her into the passenger seat, my gaze shifted between her good, healthy leg and the one that now was probably fractured. I couldn't deny the fascination as I had watched her navigate her way on one leg into the car.
Arriving at the hospital, I remained composed, my focus on ensuring Sophie received the care she needed. As I rushed to get a wheelchair, I couldn't shake the mix of concern and sexual desires inside me. Helping her out of the car, I carefully transferred her into the wheelchair, gently supporting her broken leg.
As we followed the nurse down the hospital corridor to get the X-rays done, I caught a glimpse of a male patient on crutches past us. His right leg was in a lower leg cast with a cast shoe and his left leg was amputated at the knee. He was engaged in light conversation with his girlfriend or wife. I couldn't stop staring and feeling my erection building inside my pants.
As we entered the X-ray room, Sophie's eyes met mine, and she leaned in slightly.
"I saw how you reacted seeing that patient just now. It reminded me that I'm not alone with crazy fetishes doctor". She then quickly slid her long fingers against the front of my pants, not helping my situation at all.
I smiled warmly at her insight. "Absolutely, Sophie. You're right"
Once the X-rays were complete, we returned to the waiting room to hear the doctor's verdict. Sophie's leg was now elevated and resting on a cushioned surface, she fidgeted slightly, anticipation evident on her face.
A female doctor approached us with a warm smile, holding a tablet showing the X-ray images in her hands.
"Dr. Miller, Sophie," she greeted us,
"I'm concerned that the X-rays show a broken tibia and a small fracture in the fibula. We will need to realign the tibia to ensure proper healing before casting your whole leg." The doctor explained the procedure in detail, and I could see Sophie's intelligence at work as she absorbed the information. Like a kid she wasn't counting the days until xmas but How long she would be in a cast and on crutches.
As Sophie lay on a table, her leg carefully positioned for realignment, the medical team worked with precision. The doctor's skilled hands held Sophie's leg firmly, as the nurse provided support from the other side. Slowly, they began to rotate her leg, applying a controlled pull to realign the broken bones. Sophie winced, her face contorting with pain.
As the bones realigned, I could almost feel the tension in the room and in her leg.
Sophie's leg was now back in alignment, and the nurse secured it in a long black cast bent at the knee that she would be wearing for 6 weeks minimum while using crutches full time. I felt a surge of relief. I stood by her bedside, offering words of encouragement, Sophie turned to me with a look of gratitude that reached deep into my soul.
My gaze couldn't help but be drawn to her long leg cast, bent at the knee, with her exposed toes peeking out from the cast. As a doctor, my instinct was to ensure her comfort, but the fascination with her cast was beyond my professional responsibilities.
I gently touched the edge of the cast, my fingers tracing the lines where it met her skin. Sophie's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I hesitated, unsure but she pulled my hand higher against her wet panties.
"It's OK Dr. Miller"
Sophie pulled me gently towards her, closing the distance between us. Her lips met mine in a tender and passionate kiss despite the pain.
Part 4 to come
K
Saturday, August 5, 2023
Friday, August 4, 2023
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
Thursday, August 3, 2023
Wednesday, August 2, 2023
Psychiatrist part 1
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
K