PART 10
Having nothing better to do, I went to work the next morning.
Steve had come home late Sunday night, but I was so out of it and
miserable that I feigned sleep and ignored him, glad that Sharon had gone to her
own apartment for the night. He had left early the next morning, not bothering
to wake me or leave a note. He had not even made coffee.
I got up and enjoyed a cold shower. The near freezing water seemed to
shake me from my doldrums a bit, and I felt just a little more alive as I went
out to greet the world. It was still early, and the Indian deli was not yet
open (not that I would go in there again) so I went a block out of my way and
got a strong cup of coffee at an all-night Korean deli instead.
It was humid down in the subway tunnels, but I ignored it for the most
part, as I tried to ignore the other early morning travelers. I sipped my
coffee, staring at the tracks as sweat trickled down my back until I felt the
first gust of wind heralding the approach of a train.
I flopped down into a hard plastic seat, enjoying the cool
air-conditioning as the doors shut and the rumble of the train drowned out the
staticky announcements of the conductor. I glanced at my fellow passengers,
feeling the anxiety building within me. Most were oblivious to their
surroundings, either dozing or engrossed in a book or the morning paper. There
was a steady drone of garbled music blended together from a dozen Walk-Men all
blaring at their top volume.
My eyes rested on the one woman on the car. She was seated at the far
end, writing something in a spiral notebook. She was wearing a slate-gray
business suit, her long legs wrapped in dark stockings and black pumps with long
sharp heels. Her legs were crossed and she casually dangled a shoe as she wrote
in her book, oblivious of my eyes captivated on the movements of her foot. Her
dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she was continually sliding her
eyeglasses back up her nose. She had a bad habit of gnawing on her pen...
I looked away, and saw a Latino man staring just as intensely at me as I
was at the businesswoman. He smiled viciously, his hand drifting between his
legs as he scratched his crotch and I blushed. I closed my eyes, wishing it
would all just go away...
I punched in for work, then immediately went to see my boss. An idea
had formed in my head, based on something Steve had said once in passing. The
company had a staff psychiatrist available for any employee to use, and I
figured that I was to the point that I needed some professional help.
I told my boss that I had logged in for work but that I need to see the
company 'shrink'. He stared at me blankly, so I explained that I was feeling
depressed. I had read the company handbook, and knew that I could get out of
work for at least one day using 'Depression' as the excuse. I would need a
doctor's note, but I really did want to see the psychiatrist, so I did not see
the problem. Grudgingly, he signed my time card and told me to get out, adding
that the doctor should send down the proper paperwork if I was really on the
level. I assured him that I was and that I would remind the doctor, though I am
sure that he knew what he had to do.
The doctor's office was on the seventy-second floor of the building, and
when I entered I was almost breathless with awe. The receptionist' office was
larger than my whole apartment, and decorated with furniture and art work that I
would not be able to afford if I saved every penny of every check until I
retired. The view was fantastic, with the World Trade Center towers rising out
of the skyline to one side and the Brooklyn Bridge and Pier 51 to the other with
New York Harbor in between. I don't know how the receptionist got any work
done, but it was no wonder that her desk was situated with her back to the view.
The woman looked up from a memo she was reading and smiled widely. She
was cute, though a bit plain, and luckily I could not see her legs and feet as
they were hidden beneath the desk. I smiled back, introducing myself and
explaining that I wanted to see the doctor. She smiled pleasantly and handed me
a few forms to fill out, indicating that I take a seat. She said that I was in
luck, as the doctor had had a cancellation that morning and I could probably get
into see her at 9:30. I raised my eyebrows upon hearing that the doctor was a
she, but dismissed it, hoping that she would be a stodgy old lady with gray hair
and two chins.
I was half way through the forms when the office door opened and a
gorgeous Asian woman hurried into the office. She had a briefcase under one arm
as she juggled a container of coffee and a bagel in one hand with a cell-phone
resting in the crook of her neck. She was dressed in a black business suit
jacket and skirt with dark hose and deep purple heels and blouse. Her long
black hair was loose, feathering down her back and sweeping about her shoulders.
She smiled, nodding at me as she passed and approached the desk.
"Hello, Jennifer. Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bitch-" She turned
back and flashed me an embarrassed smile. She put her cell-phone away and
adjusted her briefcase before turning back to the desk. "So, what's on for
today?"
"Your 9:30 cancelled," Jennifer the receptionist said, then glanced at
me, "but Mr. Higgins here would like to see you. He's from the mail room."
"Fine." The doctor, Dr. Tasha Ellington turned back to me. "Just give
me a few minutes to get myself situated, Mr. Higgins, and I'll see you straight
away. I'm just a bit flustered this morning."
"No problem." I answered, watching as she juggled the things in her
hands. Jennifer finally had to open the door to the inner office, and I heard a
muffled curse after the door was closed and the receptionist took her seat
behind the desk. In about fifteen minutes I was allowed inside.
The inner office was just as opulent as the outer one, if not more so.
A huge rosewood desk that was littered with papers and files and books dominated
the room. There was a coffee cup steaming on one corner of the desk next to a
huge phone with about a hundred buttons and a computer monitor behind that. I
could see fresh water marks on the polished wood and blotter, as though the
doctor had moved the cup several times already that morning. The walls were
paneled in the same rich rosewood and lined with several paintings in soft,
relaxing colors. There was a huge potted palm in one corner and two other
doors, which I assumed went to a bathroom and a closet. The view in here was
breathtaking as well.
Dr. Ellington rose, extending her hand as the receptionist closed the
door behind me. I assumed that she was married, with a name like Ellington, but
I did not see any ring on her finger. She smiled warmly, putting me at ease
though I found it hard to hold her gaze. She introduced herself, instructing me
to sit even as she did and quickly asked me what was wrong.
I stuttered for a bit, feeling somewhat embarrassed as I tried to
explain the last few days to yet another beautiful woman. I wondered how I kept
getting in this situation. Slowly, I told her about that first encounter with
Steve and Sharon, and our respective reactions. I went on to tell her about
waking up bound and gagged in the basement, which led to my experiences with the
lady and her dogs. That led into the rape at the deli, and then seeing the web
site that the Dog Lady was blackmailing me with. I told her how I felt through
it all; how it both embarrassed and excited me, and how at times I seemed to
crave the debasement more and more. I told her of Sharon and our prior, brief
relationship, and of Steve and how they were now an item. I told her
everything, eventually. I held nothing back.
Through it all, the doctor seemed to listen intently, occasionally
taking down notes even though she was recording the session on a tape recorder
with my permission. I figured I had nothing to hide or lose at that point. I
was already being blackmailed, after all. I really found it hard to look at her
face throughout my confessions. The more I told, the meeker and more submissive
I seemed to become. I watched her hands instead as she scribbled in her
notebook or tapped her pen on the desk. I shifted uncomfortably in the plush
black leather chair the entire time, and was a little embarrassed as I was
sweating, the back of my shirt soaked and staining the soft leather.
At the end of my tale, the doctor sat back in her own chair (which was
bigger and higher than my own, I should add). I caught a brief flash of knee as
she crossed her legs and drew a cigarette to her violet painted lips. Where she
got it from, I don't know, but she smiled, offering me one in afterthought. I
accepted and we both lit up.
"I'm sorry," she said, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke at the ceiling.
"We should not be smoking in here, but I just can't seem to quit. Not a very
reassuring thing for a psychiatrist to say, I imagine." I chuckled.
"Don't worry about it. I won't tell if you won't."
"Deal." She smiled, then glanced at her intercom box. I watched as her
slender hand snaked across the desk, a slim finger uncoiling as a dark violet
nail brushed a button. There was a harsh buzzing sound, and we soon heard the
muffled, tinny voice of Jennifer respond from the box on her own desk.
"Jennifer, cancel all of my appointments until lunch. I'm going to be
with Mr. Higgins for some time."
"Yes, doctor."
Doctor Ellington stared at me for some time, enjoying her cigarette.
She was thinking, I could tell, as her eyes occasionally narrowed and looked far
away those few times that I could force my sight to meet hers. I also noticed
that she was bobbing her leg under the desk; I could hear a slight squeak in her
chair and could see the shadow under her desk. I felt my cock swelling just
thinking about it and placed my hands in my lap.
"You say this all started just a few days ago?" she asked as she leaned
forward to crush out her cigarette. She placed her elbows on the desk, resting
her chin on her thumbs as she steepled her fingers before her pouting lips. I
could feel her eyes raking me up and down.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"You don't need to call me Ma'am, Mr. Higgins. You can call me doctor,
or even Tasha if it will make you more comfortable." I nodded. "Why did you
call me Ma'am?"
I thought for a moment. "Out of respect, I suppose. You're a doctor,
and a woman-"
"And you were brought up to respect women, and people of alleged
authority, like doctors, the police, teachers..." I nodded again.
"That's common enough, Mr. Higgins. I find it a lot in men and women
your age. I was brought up that way myself. Still, it is theorized that it
leads some people to be a bit submissive, being raised to respect authority.
The things you described lead me to believe that that might be the case with
you. Just at a first assumption, I think that might be the basis to at least
some of what's happening to you.
"You've stated that you've assumed the almost 'housewife' role in your
relationship with your roommate; doing the housework, taking the lesser bed and
deferring to his 'wisdom'. You sounded somewhat angry that he had taken Sharon
from you, but in the end you let him without a struggle at all. You describe
Sharon as talking down to you, and calling you 'Billy', which you hate, but
allow to go on. I think there is more to it, but I believe the root of your
problem is that you are submissive, or at least not strong-willed, and some one
has taken advantage of that."
I blinked, trying to absorb what the doctor had said, and it all seemed
reasonable in someone else. I did not in the least think that I was so weak
willed...But I was doing the chores. I was working at a menial job, trying
harder to keep Steve happy than I was trying to better myself. I sat around
counting all the things that needed done at the apartment every day; Steve's
laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, the dusting, the toilets...The list went on
and on. I seemed to be living for Steve's approval, hoping he would let me stay
with him one more month, indefinitely.
And I did let Sharon talk down to me. I let her call me 'Billy', like I
was her kid brother and not an old boy friend. Was it out of some twisted form
of respect? Was it some submissive streak drilled into my subconscious by my
parents? Or was I maybe still in love, or lust with her and I hoped to make her
happy enough that she might see me in a more favorable light?
"Fine, doctor." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. "Let's
assume that you're right, and I am some closet submissive. How does that get me
tied up and drinking out of the toilet, or bound and gagged in the basement?
Why can't I remember what happened? And how do I suddenly drop to my knees and
want to kiss a woman's feet just because she smiles and says hello?"
The doctor leaned forward and picked up her pen to jot something down in
her book. She then swept her hair back over her shoulder and settled back
again, twirling the pen in her fingers. I watched in some amazement at her
speed and dexterity at so seemingly simple an act. The pen spun in a blur, the
deep purple of her fingernails sparkling as they caught the light. I could hear
the low hum of the tape recorder as we both sat silently, droning on and on...I
still could not meet her eyes. Finally she spoke again, her voice softer than
before-
"You're quite right, Mr. Higgins. A normal man would not bow down and
kiss a woman's feet because she flashed him a smile. Neither would a
submissive, I imagine, unless it was under controlled conditions. Whether you
care to believe it or not, I believe that is what has happened. I think you
missed the last part of my previous statement, or perhaps did not understand. I
believe that someone is playing on the respect you naturally give them,
exploiting it even. Using it and you for their own benefit. Some of the acts
you told me of are just too bizarre, Mr. Higgins, and I find you
too...well-balanced at this point to believe that you did any of it of your own
free will. To suddenly snap and drop to your knees in the deli as you explained
you did..." she shook her head I saw from the corner of my eye, though I still
watched her hands. "To submit to some of the degradations you described...You
would be displaying abnormal tendencies before me by now if you were truly not
well."
"You believe me then?" I finally got the nerve to look into her soft,
smiling face, her dark eyes. She was watching me intently, but I felt relaxed
somewhat under her strong scrutiny. She nodded-
"Yes Mr. Higgins. No one has apparently come forward to report a maniac
that kisses women's feet or hops around in apartment buildings, naked, bound and
gagged. I believe you..."
"Then what's wrong with me?" I almost cried. "Why am I doing these
things? Why can't I remember-"
"That's what I hope we can find out." She got up and came around to the
front of the desk. She seemed to tower over me as she leaned back, almost
sitting up on the edge, folding her arms under her breasts. I dropped my gaze
to the floor, embarrassed, just in time to see her cross her ankles. I felt the
bulge in my pants throb again as it strained to rise.
"Tell me Mr. Higgins..." she began, lighting another cigarette with her
silver Zippo. She did not offer me one this time, and seemed ignorant of the
fact that she was blowing smoke almost directly into my face. "Have you ever
been hypnotized?"
"No." I answered matter-of-factly, breathing in the cloud of blue smoke
that swirled about my head. I started to reach for a butt from my own pack, but
felt her soft hand on my arm and hesitated. I glanced up into her stern face
and lowered my hand back to my lap as she shook her head.
"Are you sure?" she went on. "Never at a party, or back in high school
or college as a prank?"
"No." I answered again.
"Not by a doctor to lose weight, or quit smoking?" I shook my head. "I
have..." she chuckled, "though obviously it did not take. Some people just
can't be hypnotized. Me for instance, I'm much too hyper. I took up smoking in
the first place to try to calm down, and because it just looked so cool." She
giggled. "Oh, I know it's killing me, but I'm not ready to stop. Anyway, I
tried hypnosis to stop once, and my doctor said I was just too hyperactive to
relax. One needs to be relaxed to be hypnotized, did you know that Mr.
Higgins?"
I tried to respond, but nodded instead. She was hyper all right, and
could not keep her hands still as she spoke. She was almost tracing pictures in
the air between us as I watched the glowing tip of her cigarette and the
trailing wisps of smoke left from her movements. It was relaxing, watching her,
listening to her soft voice...
"Are you trying to hypnotize me, doctor?" I looked up at her and saw
her smile.
"Well..." She half-turned and crushed the cigarette out in a glass
ashtray on her desk. She then turned back and hoisted herself fully onto the
desk so she was sitting directly before me. Her ankles were still crossed, and
swinging now, the toe of her shoe almost tapping my knee with every arch. "No,
Mr. Higgins. I was hoping though, to show you how easily it might have been
done, even without you being aware of it. Submissive people are also easily
suggestive, and in the last few minutes I've been using a few subtle 'tricks' to
both spark your interest and to help you relax. Are you relaxed, Mr. Higgins?"
I was, I had to admit. I was also excited, watching this woman swing
her legs, and I think she knew it. I nodded, whispering a barely audible
affirmative. She smiled.
"I thought so. But don't worry. I would not hypnotize you without your
permission. I believe that someone else may have, however, and I would like to
try myself."
"Why?"
"Under hypnosis you may be able to remember more details concerning your
experiences. You may be able to remember who tied you up with a little coaxing.
And as far as your encounter in the deli; I believe that someone might have
placed a suggestion in your sub-conscious to do what you did under certain
circumstances."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, Mr. Higgins." She shrugged, fully crossing her legs and
linking her fingers over her knee. "Obviously nothing that I have said or done
since you came to see me. That's something we might discover if you allow me to
put you under."
I frowned, watching as she twirled her foot, stretching her ankle. I
had no doubt that she could hypnotize me. Hell, I was almost under just
watching her shoe. I was hesitant though. I wanted to find out what was
happening to me, and why I was doing the things I was doing. It was all so
strange and sending my life into a spiral. But what if I did not like the
answers that she found? What if Steve had done something to me? Or Sharon?
What would I do then? How could I go back to my life? But then, I really did
not have a life now, never knowing when I might humiliate myself again. I had
to do it, and face the consequences.
"All right..." I mumbled, staring at the floor as she slid off the desk.
"Excellent!" She seemed happy as she went to the door and dimmed the
lights a bit. When she returned to her desk she sat in her chair and started to
rummage through her desk. She placed a small device on the blotter and turned
it on and it immediately lit up and started to strobe a slow steady flash of
light. She buzzed on the intercom and told the receptionist to hold her calls.
I was watching the strobe already as she started talking, telling me to
do so. Her voice seemed normal, but softer than before, and almost monotone. I
could see the shadow of her face, just beyond the flashing light, and her eyes
seemed to sparkle with every illumination. I listened to her words, watching
the blinking light. I smelled smoke...