Sexual Deviance

Sexual Deviance
Part 1 - A Sexual Deviant

F/f, F+/f, B/D, D/S, humiliation, Serious, bondage, nc, inter-racial

Meg did not resist as she was led through the brightly-lit corridor. For one
thing, her head was swimming. Everything was blurry, the figures of her escorts
shifting and sliding before her perceptions. The pounding headache that had
greeted her uncomfortable awakening had largely faded now, but enough pain
remained to weaken her.

For another thing, she was tightly secured in a straitjacket. Apart from her
black leather panties, that was all she wore.

People were looking at her, she was sure. She could not focus on them enough to
tell who they were. They were all women, mostly similarly dressed. Some of them
called things to her, but she did not hear them. Simply walking in a straight
line was difficult.

She was led into an office, and sat down fairly roughly onto a large chair. Just
the sensation of being still calmed her slightly, and she was able, eventually,
to calm the spinning in her mind, enough at least to gain some insight as to
where she was.

It looked like a doctor's room. There was a desk in front of her, book shelves
on the wall behind it. A framed certificate hung beside them. Meg tried to
strain her eyes to read it, but the writing kept slipping away from her.

She blinked, and shook her head, trying to clear some strands of her long black
hair from her face. She usually wore it tied back, but for some reason it was
now loose. Some of it was inside the straitjacket, clinging to her sweaty back.
The itch was maddening.

Eventually she managed to focus on one object, a stress toy, the one with the
metal balls attached to a swing. The balls seemed smaller than she had expected,
unless that was her groggy eyesight playing more tricks on her.

She was still staring at the toy when the far door opened and someone walked in.
It was only when the newcomer spoke that Meg managed to look up.

"Good morning," said a breezy female voice, in a cut glass English accent. "My
name is Doctor Kavanagh."

The woman looked younger than any doctor Meg had ever seen, and better looking
as well. She had light brown hair, loosely tied away from her patrician face,
revealing a small, newish looking scar on the side of her head. Her skin was
lightly tanned. Her suit jacket was open, to reveal a loose and low cut white
T-shirt, voluptuous tanned cleavage visible. Her skirt was on the slightly short
side, and her legs were perfectly toned.

Meg nodded, idly, as the doctor sat down.

"Am I ill?" she asked, shocked to discover how dry and hoarse her own voice
sounded.

"Not in any physical way," Doctor Kavanagh said. "You are a little dizzy,
suffering from a little malnutrition, a little exposure, nothing serious. Some
vitamin supplements and a few days' rest will soon put those to right."

"Why am I here?"

The doctor leaned forward on her desk, flicking a pen between her fingers. "I'll
ask the questions, if you don't mind." Her tone was suddenly and unexpectedly
harsh, and Meg started. A moment later, the doctor smiled, revealing a set of
perfect white teeth. "We won't be long. Hopefully, we'll soon get to the bottom
of this, and we can be on to other things. You're happy with that, aren't you?"

Her throat dry, Meg nodded.

"Now, some quick questions. What's your name?"

"Meg."

"Surname?"

Meg hesitated. She didn't... She couldn't think of... Oh, God, this was
ridiculous... Her mind was swimming... "Hayden," she said, with obvious relief.
"Meg Hayden."

"Good. Age?"

"Twenty-two."

"Occupation?"

"Office temp. I work for..." Again, she had to pause. The image of a large
building, a large company, a lot of shelves with filing... "Insurance," she
said, weakly.

"That's all right. Are you not at university?"

"I dropped out. The course... wasn't right for me. I'm planning on going back
next year."

"What were you studying?" Doctor Kavanagh asked, seemingly interested.

"Psychiatry."

"Isn't that interesting? It is quite demanding study, I'll admit. Now, Meg, this
is very important. What's the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"

Meg had to struggle. There were flashes, very faint memories. Darkness,
shouting, loud music, people touching her. "I was going out," she said,
hollowly. "With... with Donna."

"Donna who?"

That was easier than remembering her own surname. "Nicholls," she said. "Donna
Nicholls."

"And who is Donna?"

"She's... my friend."

"Is that all?" There was a faintly accusatory tone to her voice.

"She's my girlfriend," Meg said, a hint of anger rising within her.

"You're a lesbian."

"It's not against the law, is it?" Meg snapped.

"Not at the moment, no," said the doctor. Then, she smiled again. "Where were
you going?"

"Look," Meg said, angrily, part of her awareness starting to return. The image
of the doctor had stopped swimming by now, and she was able to focus on her. She
didn't look that old, no more than twenty-eight or -nine. "Where am I? What is
this about? Why am I...?" She thrashed at her straitjacket.

"I said I would ask the questions," Doctor Kavanagh said, firmly. "But, if it
will help you, you are in Edgeton Mental Health Facility."

"What? Why? What... what happened? Is this a joke?"

"This is no joke, Miss Hayden, and as to what happened, we are trying to piece
that together. What is known, is that you were found lying on a main road at two
o'clock in the morning, wearing only the slightest of leather underwear, clearly
drugged out of your mind, and suffering from mild exposure. You were found by a
passing motorist, taken to a regular hospital for treatment, and then
transferred here."

"Why here? Look, I don't know what happened, but..."

"This is the country's leading place for treating disorders of a sexual nature,"
the doctor explained calmly. "It is clear from what I've seen and observed in
talking to you that you are some sort of sexual deviant. You are in the right
place for treatment. Fear not, you will be cured in no time, and ready to be
released back into society."

"Deviant? That's... that's insane. I demand you let me ring my parents... or my
lawyer! You can't hold me here."

"We can, Miss Hayden, and we will. It is a shame you are not co-operative, but
we are not unused to this. You will thank us in the end, when you have been
cured." She pressed a button under the desk, and sat back in her chair, crossing
her long legs.

"Cured? There's nothing wrong with..."

The door opened. "Ah, Kara," the doctor said. "Take Miss Hayden to Treatment
Room 3. Begin Programme 5B, I think. Moderate level only, for now."

Meg was ready to protest again when she was pulled up from her chair and forced
from the room. The woman was one of the guards who has escorted her here before,
but it was only now that she could see her clearly.

Kara was an amazon, black skin, almost six-foot tall, rippling with muscles, but
still shapely with all that. She was wearing a nurse's outfit, but it was the
shortest, skimpiest, most open nurse's outfit Meg had ever seen. She remembered
hiring a similar outfit to surprise Donna with once, and hers had been less
revealing than this one.

The amazon led her back down the corridor, past various doors, down a flight of
stairs, and into a corridor containing five doors. Meg flinched at the sound of
a scream coming from one. Kara looked up.

"Stupid bitch," she muttered. "Meant to keep the doors closed when in use. Doors
are soundproof, see?" She reached out and pulled the door shut. Donna looked a
it, and saw a sign reading Treatment Room 1.

They stopped at the door reading Treatment Room 3, and Kara pushed her inside.

It was an empty, square room, three of the four walls padded, and the entirety
of the fourth a large mirror. Meg looked around, puzzled, and eventually spotted
a small chest in one corner, and a set of restraints hanging from the ceiling.

She paled at the possibilities here. She and Donna had enjoyed all sorts of
kinky activity in the past, but this was different, and creepy to boot. She was
still partly convinced this was all a big joke, and if she could remember a
little more of the night before, she might be less worried. As it was, her heart
was pattering swiftly as she was forced inside.

Kara roughly removed her straitjacket and Meg stretched her arms. Her muscles
ached from the forced position. As she stretched, she was embarrassingly aware
that her breasts were now completely open for the amazon nurse to view -
although why should she be embarrassed? She had good breasts. Great breasts.
Donna certainly thought so, and she'd lost count of the number of guys who'd
spent time talking to her chest.

She paused, noticing red marks around her wrists. Rope marks. She'd been
restrained in some way last night, but where? She wished she could remember.
Donna and she were always too careful to leave marks, and they tended to use
handcuffs anyway, not rope.

She cried out as Kara grabbed her, and fixed her hands into the manacles. She
tried to struggle, but the nurse was far stronger than she was, and in no time
at all, she was dangling there, stretched out, balancing precariously on her
tiptoes. Meg was not tall, although she was quite graceful, and it took an
effort to keep herself balanced. After only a few moments, her arms were
beginning to burn.

Kara was studying her, running her dark eyes over Meg's helpless body, a sly
sneer on her full lips. Meg thought the obvious lasciviousness in her gaze
unusual in a clinic that claimed to cure 'sexual deviance', but then so was that
outfit.

"Please," Meg said. "I haven't done anything wrong... Please, let me down." She
still held out some hope this was a joke, but that hope was fast fading.

"Should have co-operated with the doc, shouldn't you?" Kara said, in an earthy
voice. "You'll have time to do that later, but for now... time for your
treatment. We'll start you off easy, like."

She went to the chest, and pulled a few things out from it. Meg couldn't quite
see what they were,but she had a feeling she wouldn't like it.

She was right.

The amazon nurse fixed two clamps to her nipples. They were painfully sharp, and
in no time at all the pain from her breasts was warring with the agony in her
arms.

"Please," she said, her voice almost breaking. "I haven't done anything wrong.
I'm not a deviant. I just... I just want to go home."

"You talk too much," said Kara flatly. "Tongue out." Meg simply stared at her,
unable to understand what she was being told. Suddenly, deliberately, Kara
curled her hand into a fist, and drove it into Meg's stomach. The girl lost
balance, gasped for breath, and when she opened her mouth, Kara caught her
tongue.

The poor girl tried to speak, but she could barely make any sounds at all as the
amazon fixed another clamp to her tongue, this one longer and thicker than the
last - although mercifully not as sharp.

Kara stepped back to admire her handiwork, as Meg tried to bite the clamp away
from her sore tongue. Her efforts were in vain, but the girl was maddened by
pain, thrashing around in her bonds. The realisation of her fears that this was
no joke were coming to her now.

Kara then moved forward, and, to Meg's horror, reached for the waistband of her
leather panties. Then, she stopped.

"No, that's enough for now. This is just basic training."

She then pulled something else from the chest. Meg strained through her
struggles to catch a good look at it. Strange, it looked almost like a TV
remote...

Meg's eyes widened, and she let out a strangled scream as a jolt of electricity
ran into her, into her nipples, into her tongue, shaking every inch of her
lovely body. There was a moment's pause, and then another jolt. Another pause,
and then another one.

"Lowest setting only," said Kara smugly. "I won't leave you here long. An hour
or two. That's enough for initial treatment. This makes a lot of them more
co-operative. I'll be back and see you then."

She left. Meg heard the door close behind her, and then she was alone, writhing
in agony to random bursts of electricity. She shook and issued gargled screams,
caught in pain such as she had never known, with the promise of worse to come.

This was no joke. This was no nightmare. This was terrifyingly real. But what
could she have done to deserve this? What had happened to her?

During those brief pauses between jolts, she looked at her own reflection in the
large window opposite her. She saw a pretty young woman, not tall, not skinny,
pleasantly rounded, with a pretty face, long dark hair - writhing all but naked
as bursts of electricity struck her body.

What could she have done?

She tried to think, desperately. Anything! She and Donna had gone out, first for
a drink, and then to a club. A fetish club - The Power Point. They had met
someone there, hadn't they? But who?

Meg abandoned the train of thought, concentrating solely on enduring the pain.
She would not be here forever. Someone would look for her. Donna, or her
parents, or the person who had found her. Someone must know she was here. She
would be out of this nightmare soon.

Soon.

She could not be free soon enough.

Tears rose in her eyes, and she watched herself cry, moaning piteously, a
helpless prisoner.

When Kara finally returned, turned off the electricity and brought her down, Meg
was a whimpering wreck, barely able to form a coherent thought. She was still
shaking and trembling with remembered shocks, ashamed of just how quickly she
had been reduced from the intelligent and strong-willed young woman she had
always believed herself to be, into this... girl.

She did not resist as Kara fixed the straitjacket back around her, although she
did whimper as her tender nipples came into contact with the rough fabric. Once
that was done, she simply lay there, waiting for whatever her amazon nurse may
choose to do with her next.

She moaned as Kara prodded her lightly in the side with one foot. "Pretty little
bitch, aren't you? I like the way you scream." Meg moaned. Kara prodded her
again.

"Kiss my foot," she ordered.

Meg hesitated, unthinkingly. Kara kicked her again, and still she did not react.

"Half an hour not long enough, eh? Maybe I'll leave you for an hour this time."

"No!" Meg cried, her heart almost stopping. "Please, no!"

"Then," Kara said, drawing out each word for emphasis. "Kiss. My. Foot."

Meg did, on her belly on the floor, pressing her lips to the black woman's dark
shoes, touching her sore tongue to them, in a gesture of utter humiliation. She
remembered kissing Donna in this way, but that had been entirely different. That
had been a gesture of love, and sexy fun. This was just about power.

"Hmm," Kara muttered. "I think we've got a few moments before the doc's
expecting us back. Roll over, bitch."

Meg obeyed, flopping about awkwardly in her restraints. She looked up as Kara
undid her short skirt, and let it fall. There was no underwear beneath. Meg's
head swam as the amazon lowered herself to the poor girl's face, pressing her
pussy downwards.

"Make it quick," Kara ordered. "You've got experience, I'm told, so you should
be good."

Meg did have experience, and some of her happiest moments with Donna had been on
her knees, tongue extending, bringing her lover to a quivering orgasm, but
again, this was different.

Shaking, tears in her eyes, knowing full well the fate that awaited her should
she refuse, Meg opened her mouth, and extended her dry tongue. She kissed and
licked and nibbled at the amazon's swollen clit, acting mindlessly, like an
automaton. There was no emotion there, save her own pounding fear. There was no
love, no affection.

This was simply her submission before someone vastly more powerful than she was,
the representative of a place that held her prisoner.

Kara came quickly, with a minimum of noise, and she roughly slammed Meg's head
back to the floor, dressing again. "Have to get better than that, bitch," she
spat. "The doc won't put up with that. Now, come on."

Meg weakly followed Kara as she was led back through a dizzying range of
corridors and stairs, back towards Doctor Kavanagh's office. The doors to the
other treatment rooms were all closed, and while she could hear no sounds from
beyond them, she could only shudder at what must be going on there, and imagine
herself trapped inside one of them.

Doctor Kavanagh was there, wearing small glasses that accentuated her sly
beauty. She did not look up from her paperwork as Kara and Meg arrived, and she
simply continued reading her report, occasionally making marks in the border.

Meg stared at the stress toy, imagining the balls clicking against each other,
hearing the slow and rhythmic noise, trying to calm her pounding heart.

Finally, the doctor looked up, and smiled warmly. "Miss Hayden. Good to see you
again. Are you ready to be more co-operative now?" Weakly, and dumbly, Meg
nodded. She could not bear to be sent back to that place.

"Perhaps I had better explain a little more about what we do here," Doctor
Kavanagh said. "I may have been remiss in leaving you a little in the dark,
earlier. If so, I apologise. You see, Miss Hayden, even I am not perfect. May I
call you Meg?"

Meg nodded.

"Good. Well then, Meg. We are one of the country's foremost centres dealing with
matters of sexual deviance. Unlike most other hospitals, we exclusively focus on
women. All our staff and patients are female. Introducing men to a place full of
women struggling with matters of a sexual nature would be highly inappropriate,
don't you agree?"

Meg nodded, again, her head feeling very heavy on her neck.

"Now, we want very much to work at curing you of your own deviance. We do not
see abnormal sexual behaviour as a sin, but rather as an illness, and we believe
it can be cured. Such work will not be easy, and it will require a lot of
co-operation from you, but we believe we will be able to return you to a normal
state of mind."

"May I..." Meg rasped. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," the doctor said, smiling. "Although I would prefer it if you
addressed me as 'Doctor Kavanagh'. Some of us did not just abandon our studies
the moment they became too hard."

"Why am I here? I'm not a deviant. I've done nothing wrong."

The doctor sighed, tutting to herself. "Meg, one of the most important steps to
curing your problem is for you to recognise you have one. You lie with other
women, you are clearly involved in fetish activities. Don't you see that these
things are wrong?"

"But..." Meg stopped.

"Now, I will not give up on you, but you will have to work at this. It will not
be easy. Now, you must be hungry, yes?"

"Yes." The doctor frowned. "Yes, Doctor Kavanagh."

"Good. Kara will take you back to your room, and have some food and drink
brought to you. I'll prepare another approach to your treatment. Subliminal
subsconscious reiteration, we call it. I think that will provide a valid
approach to your care here. Perhaps later, you can answer some more of my
questions. There. Is everything all right, Meg?"

"Yes, Doctor Kavanagh."

"There's a good girl. Go on with Kara now. She'll look after you."

Meg dared not look at the smirking amazon as she was taken back to her room, a
small cell padded on floor, ceiling and all four walls. She was left there,
lying still in her straitjacket, her body moaning for food and drink, and still
shaking with the aftereffects of the first session ofher 'treatment'.

I haven't done anything wrong.

She wanted to scream that aloud, but she dared not. They might be listening in
on her. If she was ever to get out of her, she would have to co-operate. They
would not have forever. Eventually, she would be traced back here, and let out.

Eventually.

She realised she was crying when the nurse returned with her food. Trying to
compose herself, Meg scrabbled up to her knees. The food was a mushy paste,
place in a bowl on the floor. Kara made no attempt to remove Meg's restraints
and the ashamed girl had to eat as if she were an animal, head down, under
Kara's arrogant stare.

She would not let the amazon see how degrading this was. Likely this was all
part of some little game by Kara, some personal pleasure she took from
humiliating her patients. Meg would not give her the satisfaction. She wouldn't.

The food was followed by a drink she had to take through a straw. She had no
idea what it was, but it was refreshing enough. Kara then wiped her face clean,
as if she were an old woman unable to care or herself. Meg wanted to scream at
the nurse, but she did not. She would maintain her composure, however shameful
her treatment. She would be released sooner or later, and then she would not be
quiet about this.

Kara left, and Meg settled down on the padded floor. There was no cot, or
indeed, anything at all, so she rested there. Her full belly had calmed her
slightly, and she was able to approach the situation with a calm manner.

What had happened to her last night? She had a feeling something had happened
which Doctor Kavanagh was interested in. If she could remember, that might get
her in good stead with the doctor. Pretend to co-operate, maybe remove this
blasted straitjacket. She certainly wouldn't be put back in that treatment
room...

Just the thought cased her to shudder. It was a very effective deterrent, but it
was in the past now. The soreness in her body remained with her, but if she did
what the doctor asked her to, she would not be sent back there. The experience
would remain a bad memory, something to tell Donna about, sobbing on her
shoulder. In fact, now that she thought about it, the experience had made her
quite hot. Perhaps the two of them could replicate it - under less painful
circumstances.

Meg shook her head angrily. Think, idiot! What happened last night?

She and Donna had gone out, first for a few drinks, and then to the club, the
Power Point. Donna had been looking incredibly sexy, Meg recalled, in a very
short, latex skirt, black bra, fishnet top and stockings, high boots. Meg
trembled lightly at the image.

Donna had been flirting with everyone, the boys at the pub, who had all no doubt
thought themselves well in. And with the women at the club afterwards. It drove
Meg mad, both with passion and with jealousy when Donna did that.

Meg shifted her legs awkwardly. She'd been wearing her new leather bra and
panties, a gift from Donna. She'd been shaved as well, although Donna didn't
know that. A little surprise.

God, she was hot! Remembering that scene, Donna looking so sexy, her wonderful
breasts straining against her low cut bra. Meg had just wanted to grab her and
fuck her right then and there on the dance floor. The air had been smoky and
warm. She'd taken off her top, tying it around her waist.

Donna had been dancing with someone, an older woman, gorgeous, really playing up
the flirting, kissing her, rubbing her arse, everything. Meg had been watching,
nearly insane with jealousy.

The woman had come over and talked to them later, said something about a private
party at her house. That had been it.

God, Donna had looked so gorgeous. Meg wanted to throw her to the ground and
press her pussy against her mouth and...

Meg squirmed in her restraints. She was hot, burning, her pussy dripping into
her panties.

Oh, God!

There was something in the food.

They'd drugged her with something.

She struggled, trying to free an arm, or slip out of the jacket, trying to reach
down and caress her burning cunt. Frantically, her heart pounding, she rubbed
herself against the floor.

"Miss Hayden," said a voice from nowhere, and Meg froze. It was Doctor Kavanagh,
her cut glass vowels carried over a mechanical buzz. "Such behaviour will not be
tolerated here. It is wrong. Remember, you are here to be treated for your
deviance. Willpower is essential, as is recognition of what you are."

Meg wanted to scream, but she bit her lip, drawing blood. She sucked at the cut,
tasting the coppery tang of her own blood, anything to distract her from the
agony she was experiencing.

"You see, Miss Hayden, you are a slut. A tease. A disgusting little whore. We
will cure you of that here. We can do it relatively easy, or we can do it very
hard indeed, but we will do it. Your deviant behaviour will be removed and you
will be returned to society, a useful and productive member.

"Recognise what you are, Miss Hayden. That will be the most important step in
your treatment. You are a slut.

"You are a disgusting little whore.

"You are a slut.

"You are a disgusting little whore."

The same words continued, over and over again, evidently a recording. Meg
listened and, however much she wanted to deny them, she could not. She was
rolling around and around, wearing only a straitjacket and leather panties, her
body burning for release.

In no time at all, she was screaming, tears pouring from her eyes, crying out
until her throat was hoarse. It didn't matter how loudly she screamed. The voice
kept coming, repeating those two sentences.

"You are a slut.

"You are a disgusting little whore."

As Meg realised what a picture she must present, vainly thrusting her groin up
into the air in a desperate bid to gain release that was never coming, she had
to shamefully conclude that the doctor was right.

She was a slut.

And she was a disgusting little whore.

Next: A Slut, A Disgusting Little Whore

Sexual Deviance
Part 2 - A Slut, A Disgusting Little Whore

F/f, D/s, bondage, Serious, nc

When Meg was finally delivered from her cell to Doctor Kavanagh's office, she
was so delirious with unsated desire that she could not even notice the
different nurse who was escorting her. Her night had passed in an agony of one
futile thrust at a time. Her muscles ached, her throat was dry, the inside of
her thighs sore and red where the leather of her panties had rubbed against
them.

And she was no nearer to her release than she had been last night.

Exhaustion had finally claimed her. Too fatigued to move, too aroused to sleep,
she had been crying softly, the recording of Doctor Kavanagh's words echoing
around in her cell.

"You are a slut.

"You are a disgusting little whore."

Her new nurse sat her down in her familiar seat in the doctor's office, and Meg
waited there, half aware of what a pitiful figure she must look. Her hair was
lank and straggly, stale sweat drying across her skin, her eyes hollow and
drained.

"Good morning, Miss Hayden," said the doctor upon arrival. Meg shivered at that
voice, the only sound other than her own screams that she had been able to hear
last night, a sound she had associated with her own agonised desire.

"Did you sleep well?"

Meg said nothing, bowing her head.

"Now that you are well rested, Miss Hayden, we can set to work on your therapy.
One of the most important parts of any therapy is recognising the deviations you
suffer from. Now, tell me, Miss Hayden, do you have any insights on that?"

Meg was silent.

"What are you, Miss Hayden?" the doctor asked, more firmly this time.

"Slut," she whispered in reply, utterly ashamed of herself.

"And? What else?"

"And..."

"Miss Hayden?"

"A disgusting little whore." She wanted to cry.

"Good. There's a good girl. Now, tell me. Do you want to be a slut and a whore?"

"No."

Meg looked up, and Doctor Kavanagh was beside her, standing over her. Her white
blouse was open a few buttons, revealing just enough tanned cleavage to make Meg
even more horny than before.

"Politeness is important, Miss Hayden. I took the time to learn your name, and I
have a great many patients, but little in the way of actual patience, if you
understand me. I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly, you worthless
little slut."

Meg started back in her chair. Doctor Kavanagh leaned forward, trapping her
there, her face very close to Meg's own.

"Do you understand me, you whore?" she snapped. "You fucking disgusting bitch. I
saw the recordings of your behaviour last night. Like a dog in heat. You disgust
me. What kind of slut are you?"

"You drugged my food," Meg rasped, a sudden bravery coming to her.

Doctor Kavanagh raised one perfectly arranged eyebrow. "I did not hear that,
Miss Hayden. Would you care to repeat it?" Her voice was low, dangerous.

"You drugged my food. Some sort of... aphrodisiac."

Meg cried out as the doctor suddenly slapped her across the face. "You fucking
bitch!" she shouted. "You little whore! How dare you say that? How dare you try
to blame us for your own revolting tendences? WE are trying to help you here -
to treat you! And this is how you respond?"

The doctor took back her seat. "Well," she said, folding her arms above her
ample bosom. "It is clear you need more treatment. Nurse Tanaka?"

"No!" Meg cried out, thoughts of that treatment room coming to her again. "No,
please, Doctor! I'll be good. I'm a slut. I'm a whore. I want to change! Please,
don't send me back there."

"It's the only way some people can learn," Doctor Kavanagh said forcefully.

Meg was still screaming as she was pulled away from the chair and taken back to
the corridor of the treatment rooms. Which room had she been in before? Was she
to be punished the same way - or something different? She could not bear the
thought of the electricity again, but surely anything else would be just as bad,
if not worse?

This was a different room, and she could not be sure whether that was better or
worse. There was a table in the middle of it, restraints fixed to it, and set so
it could be revolved. Just in front of the table was a TV screen, and in one
corner, Meg noticed, terrified, was a small chest.

The nurse dragged her unresisting body over to the table, and pushed her up
against it. Meg finally managed to focus enough to look at her, hoping there
might be some potential for mercy in her. At least this was not Kara. There
would have been no hope from her, Meg was sure.

This nurse was far shorter than the amazon, although still an inch or two taller
than Meg herself. She was clearly Asian in appearance, with some clearly
European features, especially her full, red lips. Her nurse's uniform looked
more practical than Kara's, but it was still more revealing than Meg might have
expected.

"One thing first," the nurse said, kneeling down beside Meg. Her hands, tipped
with long and sharp fingernails, ran up Meg's legs. The poor girl squirmed,
moaning at the sensation. She had always been ticklish, and Donna had used to
torment her with tickling games while she was handcuffed and utterly unable to
do anything about it.

But then she knew that release would be soon coming. Here, she was already
exhausted, and on a hair trigger, and she could not get Doctor Kavanagh's words
out of her. She was a slut, and a whore, and this was surely wrong. It must be.

"Nice legs," the nurse noted. "Good. I always like good legs on a woman."

She then reached inside the bottom of the straitjacket and slowly peeled away
Meg's leather panties, sliding them down her legs, lifting up her feet, and
tossing them aside.

"There," the Asian woman said.

"No!" Meg cried. "Please! Why...?"

She recoiled as Nurse Tanaka struck her. Her face still stung from Doctor
Kavanagh's blow, and this one had even more force to it. Meg cried out, and felt
tears rising in her eyes.

"Because I can," the nurse said. "Because I want to, and because there is
nothing you can do to stop me. And when no one else is around, call me Mistress
Aiko, understand?"

"Yes," Meg cried out, her poor mind too confused to do anything else. "Yes,
Mistress Aiko, I understand."

"I don't think so," she said, thoughtfully. "You strike me as a very stupid
girl. Are you a stupid girl?"

"Yes," Meg said, crying. "I am a stupid girl. And a slut. And a whore."

Mistress Aiko pursed her lips. "I like sluts," she said. "And whores,
particularly those like you that won't charge me. But I don't like stupid girls.
Oh well, we will see. You do have very nice legs."

She then levered Meg up onto the table. The nearly naked girl did not try to
resist, did not try to do anything other than let herself be manhandled in that
way. She lay there, paralysed with fear and confusion, as the nurse slowly fixed
her to the table, sensuously brushing against her legs or face as she did it, or
leaning over Meg, so that her cleavage brushed against the helpless girl's body.

Meg's straitjacket was hooked to the table by various straps and hooks. Leather
straps also held down her ankles, her thighs and her neck. She could not move at
all, other than slight shifting inside her straitjacket.

The table was then revolved so that, instead of lying down, Meg was now standing
up, although still helplessly bound. She was staring directly at the TV screen.
It was blank, for now.

Mistress Aiko then walked away from Meg, and the bound girl set her mind to
wandering. What could be in the chest? What instruments of 'therapy' would be
used on her this time. Not electricity again. Please, no. But what could be
worse?

Meg started to hyperventilate, her breath coming in harsh, quick gasps, her
heart pounding. She actually cried out when the nurse returned, brushing her
face as she did.

"Calm down," she said. "You will find I am kinder to you than Kara, although if
you would rather I return you to her care, then..."

"No!" Meg cried out. "I mean, no, Mistress Aiko." She tried to force a smile.
"You are very kind."

She frowned, but then shrugged. "Close your mouth."

Meg obeyed, and Nurse Tanaka forced a large piece of thick tape over her,
holding her lips firmly closed. Meg tried to protest, but only faint whimpers
emerged.

"You are here to watch, not speak," the nurse said, forcefully. "And speaking of
watching."

Two other pieces of tape, much smaller and thinner, were placed on her face,
just below her eyes. Each had three needles poking up, sharp.

"Keep your eyes open," the nurse advised. "Try to close them, and those needles
will rip your eyelids to shreds."

Meg almost closed her eyes instinctively, and only stopped herself at the first
touch of pressure on her eyelids. The nurse sighed.

"Here are your instructions. Watch what I am going to put on. Watch very
carefully. I will be... busy with another matter. If you come during the video,
then you understand I will have to tell Doctor Kavanagh, and she may consider
sending you for another course of electroshock therapy. You do understand?"

There was no way for Meg to answer yes, but the nurse seemed satisfied.

"Good. Now, just a moment."

Meg remained there still and silent. The lights to the room all suddenly went
out, leaving her in a pitch darkness that was soon relieved by a faint glow from
the television screen.

An image appeared. It was from above, and of a small, padded room. A girl was
lying on the floor, wearing a straitjacket and leather panties. Her head was
tilted back, her groin thrusting upwards into the air.

"Pretty, isn't she?" remarked Mistress Aiko, from just beside Meg. "A total
deviant, of course, but still... Remember what I told you."

She then slid down to the ground, and Meg felt her hand lightly brush her leg,
caressing her, tickling her, brushing her. It slid up her thigh, around to the
inside, up further, brushing aside the hem of her straitjacket.

Oh, no! Oh, God, no!

The folds of her pussy lips parted, and Meg's body trembled as one finger slid
inside her dripping cunt.

Oh, no!

Remember what I told you.

Meg knew she could not come. She dare not face more of the electricity. She dare
not go back to Kara. No, she couldn't.

On the screen, she staggered towards the wall, furiously rubbing herself against
it, vainly trying to obtain some friction on her sore pussy. The woman Meg
watched was insane, wailing, throwing herself this way and that.

You are a slut.

You are a disgusting little whore.

She felt her knees buckle. Had she not been restrained, she would have collapsed
to the floor.

I am a slut, she thought.

I am a disgusting little whore.

Do not come! Do not come!

Oh, God! Oh, God!

Do not come!

On the screen, she was wailing, thrusting up into the air, throwing her head
around insanely, her hair flying around her face. She looked like a wild, savage
creature, only barely a civilised human.

She felt the nurse lap at her throbbing pussy with a long, wet tongue. She
wanted to die right there and then. Not even Donna had made her feel so good...

Oh, God!

She wanted to moan, to scream, to make some sound, anything. She strained
against her bonds, but she could do nothing. She was trapped, to watch herself
act like the worst, most degraded slut in existence while wanting so much to act
like that again. She knew that if she were not bound now, she would be screaming
and wailing and humping anything in sight, just like the shameful creature she
was watching.

I am a slut, she thought. I'm worse than a slut.

There was no word to describe how disgusting she was.

Oh, God! Oh! Oh! Ohhhhh!

The sensation stopped, and she felt Mistress Aiko pull back, and stand up beside
her. "You taste delicious," the nurse said, her words only barely sensical to
Meg. "But it looks like you'd be ready to come any second now, electrotherapy or
not, so I decided to stop."

Thank you, Meg wanted to moan. Oh, God, thank you, Mistress Aiko.

"You do have lovely legs," the nurse noted. "Look. See."

On the screen, Meg had thrown herself onto her back, lifting her legs up high
into the air in a frenzy of denied lust, spreading her legs wide.

"I love a girl with nice legs. I enjoy the feel of then wrapped around my head."

Meg was crying now. How could she have behaved so... so... What kind of person
was she?

She knew the answer. She was a sexual deviant, a slut, a whore. She needed help.
Oh, God, she needed help!

Even now, even with this realisation, her cunt was throbbing mercilessly. It was
an incredible effort of will to bring her mind away from her carnal desires.

"You're actually very pretty," Mistress Aiko said. "I'd like to take you for a
spin myself sometime. But it's always business before pleasure here."

The degrading scene continued, each passing moment bringing a new and more
shameful display. Meg could not believe that thing was her.

Oh, God. That was disgusting.

"I think that's enough for now," Mistress Aiko said, finally. "There's more, but
I think you have the message."

Mercifully, she turned off the recording at that point, and removed both the gag
and the needles. Meg just stood there dumbly as she was unbound, and brought
forward. She paid no attention to reality at all, until she looked up, and found
herself in Doctor Kavanagh's office.

"So," the doctor said. "Do you have anything to tell me, Miss Hayden?"

"I'm sick," Meg whispered. "Please... I need help."

"You'll have to speak up. I hardly heard that."

"I'm sick," she said, louder.

"In what way, exactly, are you sick?"

"I'm... I'm what you said."

"A slut?"

"Yes."

"A disgusting whore?"

"Yes."

"A fucking bitch?"

"Yes."

"A sexual deviant?"

"Yes... oh, yes, doctor."

With that, she collapsed into pathetic, shameful tears, huddled on the chair,
images of her own degradation running through her mind. It was all true. She was
a sick, pathetic, sluttish...

Doctor Kavanagh waited until she had finished, and then walked over to her,
holding the young girl warmly. "Listen to me, Megan, that recognition is the
most important part of your therapy. We want to work at making you well. This is
what we'll do. I'll just ask you a few questions, we'll go over a few things,
just a beginning. Then one of the nurses will take you away, let you get washed,
give you something to eat, let you go to the toilet, clean you up a little...
you really do look a mess, Megan."

Doctor Kavanagh smiled warmly. "There's nothing you worry about. We'll have you
cured in no time. Now, first, I need to know about your first lesbian
experience."

"My first lesbian experience?" Meg said. She was sitting cross-legged on the
chair opposite Doctor Kavanagh. Her upper body was sticky and itchy with sweat,
her eyes sore from crying, her throat sore from screaming.

But she actually felt better. She had been shown what she really was, and that
sight had sickened her. She could not have believed she was capable of such
depravity.

She was to be cured, returned to the status of a normal human.

"I understand these questions may be embarrassing for you, Megan," Doctor
Kavanagh said. "But they are necessary. You must confront your own shameful
impulses before you can master them. You do want to be cured, don't you?"

"Yes, doctor."

"If you lie to me, or withhold information, then that would just waste my time.
I have others to treat as well. People who won't lie to me, who actually want to
be cured of their deviance."

"I want to be cured!" Meg cried. "Please, I want to be cured."

Doctor Kavanagh smiled. "Well, then, there is nothing to worry about. Now, your
first lesbian experience."

Meg breathed out slowly. "I think I was fifteen. Maybe sixteen, " she said. "At
high school. It was with a girl called Melissa. She was... seventeen, or
eighteen, I think. Older than me."

"Were you pretty in high school?"

"I... I think so."

"Were boys asking you out?"

"Yes, doctor. Lots of them."

"Did you accept any?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"None of them interested me. Some of them were only doing it to show their
friends. I didn't think any of them were interested in me."

"Go on."

"I cheated on a science test. One of the boys at school was the son of the
teacher, and he got hold of a copy of the test paper. I needed to pass it, and I
didn't understand it at all. I did study! I really did, but I just didn't get
it, and the teacher hated me...

"Kevin got me a copy of the paper."

"What did he want as paper? Sex?"

"No. He was... he took a lot of drugs. He just wanted money."

"Would you have fucked him if he had asked?"

"No!" Meg cried. "No, doctor."

"Why not? Was he ugly? Gay? Smell bad?"

"No... I just... I was still a virgin then. I didn't like him that much. I..."

Doctor Kavanagh waved her pen dismissively. "Go on."

"Melissa found out from him somehow. Maybe he said something while stoned, or
maybe she paid him for it. I don't know. But she confronted me about it."

"Was she attractive?"

"I didn't know then... but yes, she was. Gorgeous. Blond hair, tall,
athletic..."

"I don't want a full description, Miss Hayden. Go on."

"She came to me about it one day, after I'd had PE. I was running late, and it
was just me in the dressing room. She told me she knew I'd cheated, and she'd
tell if I didn't do what she said."

"What did she want?"

"Me to meet her in the toilets after school..."

Next: The First Time

Sexual Deviance
Part 3 - The First Time

F/f, teen, High School, blackmail, D/s, Serious,

Megan looked at her watch again. Quarter to four. Ten minutes after Melissa had
told her to be here. Melissa was late.

Or was she late? Was Megan in the wrong place? Trying to calm the rising panic
within her, she thought back hard over what the older girl had said.

"Toilet in the sixth form, by the stairs. Twenty-five to four. Don't be late."

This was the right room, Megan was sure of it. She had never been in the sixth
form area before, she wasn't allowed to until she actually became a sixth form
student next year. She wouldn't have been in any real trouble if a teacher
caught her, but she would have to explain.

And what could she say?

"I'm sorry, Sir, but Melissa Young knows I cheated on that last science test,
and she told me to come here or she'd tell everyone."

Megan panicked again. Melissa knew. She knew! And she would tell everyone, Megan
believed that. She didn't know the older girl very well, but what she did know,
she didn't like. Melissa was easily the most gorgeous girl in the school, but
she had a reputation as a tease. She wore as short and as skimpy clothing and as
much jewellery as she could get away with by the school uniform code. Megan had
heard more than one time of Melissa leading a boy on and then not... going all
the way.

Megan had no wishes for sex with anyone, not yet, but she still had an
uncomfortable feeling that there were rules. You didn't promise a boy sex and
then not deliver.

There was also something arrogant about Melissa. It was in the way she walked
around, the way she acted, the way she did everything. Her parents were rich,
and she was destined for a great future.

What did Megan matter to her? What did she care that Megan had cheated on a
science test? Surely it would mean nothing at all.

But what if she did tell? At best, Megan would have to resit the test, and she
would fail. At worst, she may be expelled.

Oh, God... what could she do?

Megan checked her watch again. Ten to four.

She must be in the wrong toilet. It did not occur to her to think that this
might be just a sick joke; there was too much at stake for that. She had to be
in the wrong place. Melissa would get sick of waiting for her before long. If
she left now, she could still find her. There was a toilet at the other end of
the sixth form area, she thought.

She waited for ten agonising heartbeats, and then made for the door.

It opened as soon as she reached it, and Melissa walked in.

"Not leaving, were you?" she asked.

"No... I thought I was... I thought you were..."

"It doesn't matter," Melissa said, closing the door behind her, and bolting it.
The toilet was large by most standards, but it was a little cramped with both of
them in there. Megan liked her personal space and Melissa was right next to her.
There was a thick smell in the air from her perfume.

"I know you cheated in that test," she said. "I could tell Mister Steerman."

Megan felt her knees nearly buckle. "Please don't," she breathed. "Please..."

"Why shouldn't I? I hate cheaters. People studied hard, so why should they lost
out because of your cheating?" Her pretty, heart-shaped, doll-like face was
radiating sincerity and the moral high ground.

Although there was only a few years between them, to Megan at that moment, she
may as well have been an adult, even a teacher. Melissa was so confident, so
superior. The school uniform that made Megan look like a little girl made her
seem a grown man's fantasy. She wore the blue jumper and the navy pleated skirt
with an aura of dangerous sexiness, belied by the innocence of her doll-like
features. Megan found a slow warmth begin to rise in her belly.

"Please," she whispered, trying desperately to think of an argument why not.
"Please..." was all she could say. "I'll... I'll do anything."

"Anything? What could I possibly want from you?"

"I have money," Megan panted. "Not much, but..."

"Are you trying to bribe me?"

"No... I don't... please..." Megan fell quiet, having no idea of what to do or
say next. Melissa was simply standing there, so confident and beautiful and so
much a woman. She folded her arms over her full breasts.

"Perhaps there is one thing," Melissa said slowly.

"Anything! Anything at all."

"Take off your jumper."

Megan hesitated. What? Why would she...? What would be...?

Melissa shrugged. "Fine. I'll go and tell..."

"No!" the tearful girl cried out. As quickly as she could, she pulled the navy
jumper over her head. It became tangled in her hair, and she had to struggle,
her fear complicating what should have been such a mundane task. When she was
done, at last, her hair was mussed, and her face red. She dropped the jumper.

Melissa looked at her, and she blushed before the intensity of that examination.
It was as if... as if she were a guy that found Megan attractive, and was
weighing up whether to ask her out or not.

"Do you want me to tell Mister Steerman?"

"No," Megan breathed. "Please no."

"Then you do everything I tell you to, okay? No questions, nothing. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You said you'd do anything I asked, didn't you? If you don't want to me, just
tell me now. I don't like having my time wasted. I can just go and tell, and
that'll be it."

"I'll do it. Anything you want." Megan tried to think what Melissa could
possibly want from her. To do her homework? Some chores? She hadn't reacted well
when Megan wanted money, but maybe... What else could there be? What could a
girl like Megan get someone like Melissa anyway?

"Open your blouse."

A vast rush of thoughts soared through Mega's mind in an instant. That was an
unreal order, perverted, wrong, she had misheard it, she couldn't dare strip
like this, this was a bad joke, Melissa didn't really know anything, but if she
did, what could she possibly do...

How did Melissa know?

That took the merest handful of moments, and then Megan was beginning to undo
the buttons of her blouse. Her fingers were trembling, and more than once she
found the simple act of undoing a button incredibly difficult. Melissa simply
watched her, arms still folded, a powerful look on her face.

It felt like a long time, but in reality it was probably just a minute or so,
and Megan's blouse was loose, hanging about her, revealing her plain cotton bra,
and her developing breasts. Megan was almost embarrassed to be seen so before
another woman, but the quickness of her breath and the pace of her heart were
not entirely due to shame.

"Hands behind your back. Keep them there."

Megan obeyed.

"Stay very still. Don't move until I let you."

Megan wanted to close her eyes, but she found she couldn't, not with Melissa
looking at her like that.

Slowly, the blond girl reached forward and pulled down the bra, revealing
Megan's pale breasts. The poor schoolgirl trembled as Melissa ran her hands over
her breasts. Soon, her nipples were hard, and her heartbeat even faster.

"Keep your hands there." Megan swallowed, locking her right hand around her left
wrist, imagining the click of metal cuffs.

"Call me Miss Young, understand?"

"Yes, Miss Young," Megan breathed.

"Now, get on your knees."

Awkwardly, not moving her hands, Megan did so. Subconsciously, she spread her
knees, causing her skirt to ride up and reveal parts of her pale thighs.

Slowly, captivatingly, Melissa undid her belt, and let her skirt fall. It had
been short anyway, about as short as she could get away with. Megan gasped as
she saw what lay beneath.

It was the skimpiest pair of panties she had ever thought possible. Silky and
crimson red, some wisps of Melissa's blond pubic hair were just visible around
the edges. Megan's own underwear was plain and cotton. She could not imagine
herself wearing anything like that.

Melissa leaned against the sink, spreading her legs apart slightly.

Megan could barely breathe, her heart pounding, trying not to think about the
unreality of the situation. She knew that any minute now Melissa would reveal
this as a joke, would take out a camera, or leave laughing.

Any minute now...

Melissa smiled thinly.

But what if she didn't? What if this wasn't a joke? What if this was real?

How could Melissa have known? How could she have known the things Megan had
read, the things she had dreamed of? When watching films, she had always fallen
very quiet when the heroine had been captured. When reading books it had always
been the heroine she had identified with, and she was always waiting for the
heroine to be captured. As far back as she could remember, without really
understanding why, she had written stories at school, and in each one the
heroine had been caught by the baddies.

But stories were one thing. To find herself in this position, kneeling like
this.

This was a joke. This was a bad joke.

Oh, God, please let this be a bad joke. Megan didn't think she could bear it if
this was real.

Melissa parted her perfect lips slowly.

And then she spoke.

"Crawl forward."

Instantly, without thinking, Megan obeyed. It was a matter of less than a normal
pace before she was directly before the older girl, her head level with
Melissa's waist.

Again, a long, agonising wait for her next command, which she would obey
utterly. The trembling schoolgirl could hear every heartbeat as loud as a drum.

She began to count them.

One, two, three...

Four, five...

Six...

"Take down my panties," the blond teenage dominatrix ordered.

Megan clamped her hand over her wrist firmly, reminding herself they were
chained shut. Thick, heavy metal chains. Cold, thick, heavy metal chains.

Unbending, cold, thick, heavy metal chains.

With her hands held like that, there was only one thing to do. She moved her
head forward and took the silky panties in her mouth. Struggling for a grip, she
finally closed her teeth over them and began to gently pull them down Melissa's
long legs.

It wasn't easy, requiring a constant shifting of her position and her hold. The
thick, heady perfume that came from Melissa's body was another distraction,
causing the kneeling girl to almost swoon more than once.

To wear such clothing, to have something that silky, that smooth, that colour,
next to her own body...

"That'll do," Melissa ordered, huskily, by the time Megan had pulled them down
to just above her knees. She shifted her seat slightly and reached down one arm,
in a regal, majestic fashion, to run her hand through Megan's hair.

"You know what to do."

And Megan did. She had not been told. She had not read, or seen anything like
this before. She had heard the somewhat garbled and probably inaccurate
playground stories.

But she had never done anything like this before, never truly imagined herself
really doing anything like this.

But she knew what to do.

She had never seen another woman's private parts before. Melissa's hair there
was soft, and blond, almost like fur. Beneath that hair were the thick lips of
her pussy, slightly parted.

Megan swallowed, and ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips.

Then she leaned forward, and gently touched her mouth to Melissa's lips.

She had never kissed anyone before, not properly. She had never kissed a boy on
his mouth, and here she was, kneeling half-naked, kissing a woman's privates.

Without prompting, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue, sliding it
tentatively between Melissa's lips, and into her. A low groan greeted this
action, and instinctively, Megan began to run her tongue around the inside of
those lips.

Melissa tasted wet and thick, powerful. Some drops began to trickle over Megan's
upper lip and into her mouth. It was strange, but she did not stop. She could
not stop.

Soon, her tongue came to a small, harb nub, and Megan began to lick and lap at
that part. The moans coming from her tormentor easily indicated that this was a
correct course of action. Megan knew there was a spot herself, a place that
brought her a pleasant warmth whenever she touched it in the bath. She had never
dared explore more than those brief touches, but if that spot brought her
anywhere near as much pleasure as this did Melissa, then she intended to.

A sudden and bizarre, but very logical thought suddenly came to her.

If Miss Young allowed it, of course.

Megan continued her work. Melissa's moans were becoming muffled, the dominatrix
evidently having bitten her lip to prevent herself from screaming out loud.
There were still teachers around of course.

Oddly, Megan wasn't worried about anyone walking in on them. Miss Young would
handle it, of course, and it wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong and at
the moment she really didn't care anyway.

The flow of liquid was getting stronger, pouring into Megan's mouth, and over
her upper lip, across her nose, everywhere across her face. Megan continued,
lost in her own sensations, nothing else mattering. A warmth was beginning to
rise in her own belly.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was done. Melissa let out a series of
moans, and then a long pant, and then, wearily, she pushed Megan back. The
startled young girl remained there, looking up. Melissa seemed dazed, as if
drunk, a look of strange pleasure on her doll-like face.

Eventually she came around, and pulled up her panties, and then her skirt. She
straightened her clothing generally, and washed her hands in the sink she had
been resting on, with not a word to the young girl she had just forced to her
will.

Then, after studying herself in the mirror for a long while, she turned back to
Megan.

"Well," she said. "You did... okay."

Megan's heart leapt at such praise.

"I won't tell Mister Steerman." There was a pause. "This week."

Conflicting emotions warred within Megan. Trying to keep her voice level, she
said, "this week?"

Melissa smiled. "You didn't think that was enough for me to keep this to myself
forever, did you? You'll have to do the same next week."

Megan fought to keep herself from either whooping with joy, or bursting into
tears.

"Next Wednesday... no, not Wednesday. I've got a date." Melissa paused, in
thought. "Thursday. Same time. Here. Or would you rather I tell Mister
Steerman?"

"No, Miss Young," Megan cried, her hands still held locked behind her back.

"Good. Till then. Wait five minutes after I've gone, then wash your face,
straighten up and leave. Don't you dare tell anyone about this." She paused
again. "And next Thursday, don't wear a bra. In fact, don't wear any underwear.
None at all." She smiled. "Yes. I like that."

And with that, she was gone.

Megan remained there for a long time, unsure how long five minutes would be, and
not willing to look at her watch to check. Finally, she freed her hands and
stood up.

Even as simple an act as washing her face was different by now. She had not
believed she was capable of such an act, but now she could not imagine not doing
that again. The wait until next Thursday would be agonising.

How could she keep this a secret? How could she look at people in the same way
again?

How could she...?

How could she wait that long to do this again?

Mercifully, no one stopped her on her way out. She had no idea what she would
have said if anyone had.

--------

"I see," said Doctor Kavanagh, putting down her pen and flexing her fingers.
Meg's mouth was dry with talking so much.

"And? What happened after that? Did you meet up again?"

"Yes," Meg said, a shiver of both repressed desire and utter shame flooding
through her as she relived those early experiences. How could she have done
those things? How could she have enjoyed doing those things?

But she had enjoyed them. Melissa had never done anything back to her, but the
memories were enough to keep her very satisfied and the experiences had prompted
some self-exploration of her own body, with very pleasant results. She had even
re-enacted the experience with Donna, Meg dressed as a schoolgirl, in the
toilets of a nightclub.

But she had been different then. A sexual deviant. A slut. It had been acts like
that that had led to the image she had seen - of a pathetic creature driven mad
by lust.

"Once a week for the rest of term, or near enough. We got a little more
adventurous, but nothing much."

"Examples, please."

"Handcuffs," Meg said, trying to think. Her experiences with Melissa seemed so
long ago, and had been replaced in her mind by her relationship with Donna. She
had largely forgotten them until now.

"Bondage rope. Lingerie, as well. I remember one time Melissa made me go
shopping to buy lingerie for myself, and then she..."

"That's enough for now, Miss Hayden. I may get more details as to specific
events later. What happened to this Melissa?"

"She... uh.. she left school. She was going to go to university, but I heard she
got pregnant. I haven't seen her since she left. She didn't make the last visit
we arranged."

"Excellent. Well, Miss Hayden, there are many more things we need to talk about,
but I think we both need a rest, and I do have other patients to think about,
not to mention a social life. You must be quite hot and sweaty under that
straitjacket, but you do understand why you have to wear it, I hope?"

"Yes, Doctor Kavanagh."

"Why?"

Meg paused. She had just been playing along in agreenment, and certainly hadn't
been expected to be asked. She tried to think.

"To... keep my arms restrained, or I could try and... become overwhelmed by
my..." It was hard to say it. "By my... deviant thoughts... and..."

"Yes, yes," Doctor Kavanagh interrupted her. "That's not the reason I was
thinking of, but it will do. You see, Miss Hayden, you look very sexy like
that." Meg blushed, her mouth open wide.

"Now, I'm sure you need a shower before some food. I'll have Nurse Kara escort
you to the showers so you can tidy yourself up a bit."

No, not Kara! Meg remembered the amazon's brutal treatment of her.

But it was all in the name of treatment, right? Kara worked here, she obviously
wanted to cure Meg. Meg's heart calmed. That was obviously it. Kara didn't bear
her any personal grudge, why would she? It was all just...

Therapeutic.

She kept telling herself that as the amazon led her away from Doctor Kavanagh's
office and towards the showers.

Next: The Showers

Sexual Deviance
Part 4 - The Showers

The shower room was almost empty, the tiled floor cold and damp beneath her
feet. Another girl was washing herself in a corner of the room, her long brown
hair dripping down her back. She looked around and there as a moment's terror in
her wide brown eyes, before she turned away.

Meg breathed out slowly as she looked around. She had been expecting Kara to do
something to her, to lead her elsewhere, to some room of torture.

Of curse, those thoughts were silly. Kara was intimidating, yes, but she was
only interested in treating Meg, in helping cure her of her...

Her...

Her sexual deviance.

Even so, Meg stiffened and closed her eyes as she felt Kara's strong hands on
her body, unbuckling and unclipping and freeing her from the restraint of the
straitjacket. The muscles in her arms and torso ached with the sudden release,
and she stretched, moaning with the renewed sensation in her body. It was all
she could do to remain upright. Her skin was damp and warm with dried sweat. It
had been so hot wearing that.

"Stop flaunting yourself, slut," barked Kara. "Go and get clean."

Meg walked forward, the tiled floor slick with a layer of water. As soon as she
walked underneath the metal pipes, a rush of water cascaded down on her naked
body, and she gasped wth the sensation. It was warm and comforting and for a
moment she was content to just stand there, letting the water wash over her.

"There's soap up there, slut. Use it."

A bar of soap was resting on a small ledge. Meg picked it up, and it slipped
from her hands, jumping into the air before she managed to catch it. With a wry
smile, she began to lather, and rub herself.

That straitjacket had been so uncomfortable, straining her muscles, rubbing her
body sore. Her nipples in particular were tender from the rubbing of the rough
fabric against them. Were people generally put into straitjackets naked, she
wondered. She thought they were designed to fit over clothes.

She gasped with soft pleasure as she ran the lather over her breasts. Donna had
used to kiss them so softly, playing with her nipples for hours, until Meg had
been screaming with desire.

She should be using this opportunity to think, the pleasure of the warm water on
her tender skin restoring some semblance of rational thought. The shameful
memory of that night was beginning to recede now, and it was becoming more and
more clear to her that she had been drugged.

This seemed like a very unusual place for somewhere that claimed to treat sexual
deviance. Doctor Kavanagh had said something about her looking sexy in the
straitjacket. Kara had raped her, and Mistress Aiko - Nurse Tanaka - had made
several comments.

Something here was wrong, but Meg had no idea what. She did not think she would
be able to endure this treatment long enough to identify what.

You are a slut.

You are a disgusting little whore.

The memory of those words stung her. She was both of those things. Doctor
Kavanagh was trying to cure her... Or was she? Nothing about this made sense.

Maybe if she could talk to some of the other patients here, maybe then she would
find out more. What was this place called? Edgeton? She had never heard of it.

There was another patient here, and Meg carefully changed her position, running
her soapy fingers through her long, stringy hair, trying to catch a look. The
girl was showering listlessly, sending terrified glances towards the doorway.
Kara was not in sight, and so Meg stared at the girl for longer.

She looked young, maybe only seventeen or eighteen, attractively plump, but long
brown hair, a few shades lighter than Meg's own.

"Hello," Meg said, as quietly as she could. She had no idea when Kara would be
back. The girl looked at her, her large, doe-like brown hair filled with fear.
"What's your name?"

"We're not supposed to talk," the girl said, so quietly that Meg had trouble
hearing her over the sound of the water. The girl hesitated. "Lisa," she said,
even quieter.

"I'm Meg."

"We're not supposed to talk," she said again, turning back.

Meg sighed, and turned back to the pleasant downpour of water. At least she had
the girl's name, that was something.

She rubbed more of the lather onto herself. This was the most pleasurable
experience she had had since coming here. She had always loved a good shower.
Just running her hands through her long, dripping hair, or rubbing the soap
across her body...

Her hand slid down to her groin.

You are a slut.

You are a disgusting little whore.

She hesitated, and looked around. Kara was still nowhere to be seen. She was a
slut, but with time to think, she wondered if that was such a bad thing. She
liked sex. She liked having sex. She liked pleasuring herself. Were any of those
so bad?

You are a slut.

You are a disgusting little whore.

She had admitted that to Doctor Kavanagh, and she did want to be helped. She
really did. But there was something very strange about this place.

Her pussy was still red and sore from that long, anguished night of desire. She
remembered screaming insanely with lust.

If only she had been allowed to touch herself...

They had drugged her food. They had done that to her. It had been nothing to do
with her.

She lathered up the soap again, and began to wash her groin. Her pubic hair was
beginning to grow back, and it was itching slightly, although in a pleasant way.
She ran one soapy finger around her lips, and bit her tongue to stifle a moan.

She gently pushed one finger inside herself, and closed her eyes.

----------

The sound of the shower was driving her crazy. How long had Donna been in there
now? Meg shifted in her tight bonds, but no matter how much she tried, she
couldn't release the heat in her pussy.

"Donna!" she moaned. "I'm dying here."

"You'll just have to wait," came her lover's reply, in her typically sultry,
sexy voice.

"Donna!"

"Do you want me to come out there and gag you?"

"I want you to come out here."

Donna laughed, a sound Meg loved to hear, but she did not come out of the
shower.

Meg was naked in their bedroom, just across the hallway from the bathroom. Both
doors were open, and, if she strained a lot, Meg could see into the bathroom.
Donna was still in the shower.

Still there! How long could she be? Meg enjoyed long showers herself, but this
was beyond a joke. How could Donna spend so long in there when she had an
incredibly horny girlfriend tied up and waiting for her?

Meg tried to shift her hands behind her back. They were handcuffed at the wrist,
and there was no freedom of movement at all. Her legs were pulled wide apart,
and her ankles shackled to the legs of the bed.

Donna had tied her like that, then kissed and caressed and driven her into a
sexual frenzy. Donna knew exactly what parts of Meg's body to play with to drive
her crazy, and she had been remorseless.

Then, at just the point that Meg was ready to cum, Donna had gotten up, and gone
into the shower.

Well, that had been after she had gone to the local shop, bought some milk, made
herself a cup of tea, and drank if in full view of her moaning, panting, begging
girlfriend.

Then, she had gone into the shower.

"Donna!" Meg wailed.

"I should have gagged you," came the reply. "I would have, if I didn't have a
lot of plans for that mouth later."

"Donna!"

"Be quiet, slut!" the showering redhead said, with mock severity. "Or I shall
have to fetch a cane and tan your buttocks red."

"Yes, please!"

"Of course, I'll have to get a cane, or a bamboo rod or something. The local
gardening shop might have one, but I think they're closed. Maybe I should go to
Anne's, and see what they've got in stock."

"Donna!" Anne's was their local - and only - fetish shop, and it was at least
twenty minutes drive away.

"Maybe I should mail order a new cane. I think our one is wearing out."

"Donna!" There were tears in Meg's eyes. She couldn't take much more of this.
She wanted to be fucked, and she wanted to be fucked now!

"Fine." The sound of water stopped, and Donna walked slowly across the hallway
into the bedroom.

She had not even stopped to dry herself. Her luscious body was dripping with
water, her waist-length hair was stuck to her body. A veritable river was
flowing down the valley between her pale, pink-nippled breasts.

In a swift, feline movement, she was on the bed, on top of Meg's squirming body,
water pouring from her onto Meg. Her lips clamped down onto her writhing
girlfriend's, and she kissed Meg passionately, lovingly, oh so sexily.

"I seem to be all wet," Donna said. Her hand brushed against Meg's cunt. "I'm
not the only one. You really are a little slut, aren't you?"

"Oh, God," Meg panted. "Oh, my God, Donna..."

"Yes, I suppose I am. You'd better lick this water off me..."

She positioned herself so that her right breast was above Meg's mouth.
Obediently, instantly, Meg began to drink the water that was trickling down,
taking every opportunity to nibble and lick at Donna's breast as she did so.

Meanwhile, Donna's hand was still at her groin, toying mercilessly, playing with
her, bringing her oh so close to...

----------

A blow to the back of her head brought her around from her fantasy, and Meg
stumbled forward.

"Some sluts never learn," came Kara's harsh voice. "Or have you forgotten why
you're here?"

Terrified, Meg realised what she had been doing. "I'm sorry," she said. "I..."

"I don't want to know," snapped the amazon nurse. "You can tell it all to Doctor
Kavanagh. I had a feeling you'd do something, though, so I went and got a few
toys ready."

The strong woman grabbed Meg's arms, and forced her hands up. Meg struggled, but
she was like a child compared to the nurse, and she was helpless to prevent Kara
clipping a handcuff to one wrist, and then the other, leaving her hanging from
the water pipes that fed the shower. Meg was only barely able to remain
standing, and the slick surface beneath her feet was causing her to scramble and
stumble, frantically trying to gain some purchase on the floor.

The water was still on, pouring onto her head and body. She realised that Kara
must be getting very wet as well.

And then a thought occurred to her.

"No!" she cried. "Not the electricity! Not again! Please, no! I'm sorry. I'm a
slut! A whore! Please, not the..."

Kara chuckled. "Not that, whore. I've got some other treatment in store for
you."

"Please, I'm sorry. I..."

There was a loud smack across her backside, and Meg cried out. She had an ample
posterior, and she and Donna had sometimes played spanking games, but Donna had
never hit her with a blow like that. There was another blow, and Kara followed
that up by painful and embarrassing probing around her buttocks.

Kara squeezed tightly, digging her nails into Meg's soft skin. The hanging girl
cried out again.

Just the thought of being at Kara's mercy filled the young girl with terror. The
amazon nurse was so big, so intimidating, so ruthless. Meg remembered the
electricity painfully, and the way she had been forced to pleasure Kara with her
tongue. She had been a submissive for seven years, ever since that first time
with Melissa, and she had been in some frightening situations, but she had never
known anyone who scared her as much as Kara did. The fear Meg felt from Kara was
terror-fear, not sexy, submissive-fear.

The nurse slowly prodded at Meg's anal cavity, and the hanging girl actually
screamed.

"Little tight there," Kara noted. "Never been raped up the ass before."

No, Meg never had. She would try most things, but not that. It had sounded
painful, and humiliating. Donna had never suggested it, never even asked. It was
as if she had just known.

"Please, no... please... not that..."

"It's that or the electricity, slut."

Meg froze, as if paralysed. Her legs gave way on the slippery floor, and she
fell, the whole weight of her body resting on her arms. Kara grabbed her and
stood her back up, holding her steady. The nurse's hand curled around Meg's
body, and grabbed her breasts painfully, squeezing them even tighter than she
had Meg's buttocks.

"What's it to be?"

Meg thought about it frantically. She remembered the electricity, how painful it
had been, how much she had screamed, how easily and how quickly she had
collapsed into a whimpering wreck. She had never been anally penetrated, never
wanted to be, but how bad could it be - compared to the other?

"Not the electricity," she whispered, into the warm flow of water.

"Didn't hear you, slut."

"Not the electricity, please, Mistress."

"So what do you want me to do to you?"

"Take me from behind."

"What?"

"Take me from behind," she said, louder.

"You want me to rape you up the ass."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Say it louder."

"Yes, Mistress!" she cried, opening her mouth wide, a torrent of water flowing
into it.

"You asked for it, slut. Hey! What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, Mistress," whimpered an obviously terrified Lisa.

"Stay where you are, whore. I'll have time for you later. Watch, though. You
might learn something."

Kara let the shaking Meg go, and walked away for a moment. Meg just hung there,
trying to shake the water from her eyes, trying to flick a lock of her hair away
from her face where it had fallen. This wouldn't be so bad, not compared to the
electricity, not compared to that. Some women enjoyed it, she had heard.

Some women even enjoyed it.

She felt something hard prod at her tight opening, and she shook, clinging
desperately to the manacles, hoping it would be over quick. Please, let it be
over quick.

She closed her eyes.

Please, let it be over quick.

"Tight," Kara purred, pushing at her. She felt the end of the dildo spread apart
her tight, narrow opening. Meg's breath was caught in her body, waiting for the
moment of full penetration, waiting for the inevitable pain. How painful could
it be? Some women even liked it.

Kara pulled back, and all the tension went out of Meg's body. She exhaled
violently, and slipped on the floor, dangling there by her wrists.

The amazon laughed, smacking at Meg's buttocks, as the helpless girl tried to
scramble back to a standing position. When Meg finally managed it, she resumed
the tense, taut stance she had earlier, firmly gripping the manacles that held
her. She was crying, the anticipation of the pain seeming to her worse than the
pain itself.

And it had not even begun yet.

"Please," she sobbed, after a long pause. Please, just get it over with. Do it.
Don't make me wait like this.

Don't...

"I can't hear you, slut. The water's too loud."

Had she been speaking out loud? Meg did not remember. Oh, God, what if she had?

Another thought came to her, one that almost stopped her heart with sheer,
paralysing fear.

What if Kara applied the electricity to her after raping her? Who could stop
her? Meg certainly could not, and from what she knew, only Doctor Kavanagh had
the power to do that. She might not even be here still, or she might not want
to, or she might order Kara to do worse still, all in the name of treatment...

She had to be nice to Kara, had to do whatever she could to please the cruel
amazon, had to...

"Please, she said, hating herself for doing so. "Please take me." Her tears were
lost in the torrent of shower water.

"Hot for it, aren't you?" Kara grabbed a handful of her fleshy buttock and
squeezed strongly. Meg whimpered in pain.

"Yes, Mistress Kara."

"A proper little slut, begging to be fucked in the ass, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress Kara."

"Doctor Kavanagh won't like that. She's trying to get you away from being a
slut, trying to cure you."

"Please, don't tell her. I'll do... I'll do anything." Doctor Kavanagh might
order anything to be done to her, the electricity again, or worse.

Kara delivered a hard, loud slap to her buttocks, and Meg cried out with the
sudden shock of the blow. "Damn right you'll do anything, bitch!" she yelled.
"Because I'll do anything to you! And you didn't address me properly."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Kara!" Meg wailed. "Please, I'm sorry!"

"You will be."

Again, the hard probing at the entrance to Meg's arse. The hanging girl tried to
shake the tears away from her eyes, tried to be ready for it, made herself
promise not to scream. She would not scream, she would not scream...

Kara thrust the dildo into her.

Meg screamed.

Her mind drifted away from her body during those horific minutes where Kara
raped her repeatedly and painfully, thrusting the large dildo into her tight
body. She concentrated on the warm water gently caressing her body, and she
closed her eyes, and she thought of Donna.

She remembered Donna caressing her slowly and tenderly, touching her breasts and
teasing her nipples remorselessly. She thought of Donna's hot, wild kisses, and
the agonisingly slow way she had stroked Meg's clit, bringing her screaming for
mercy.

Donna had loved her. Meg remembered that, just as she remembered the love
bordering on devotion that she felt for Donna.

And she was far, far away from the thing that was being done to her.

Meg screamed, she was certain of that, but it was instinct, reflex. She could
not feel what was being done to her. She could not...

With a final, savage grunt, and a furious thrust, Kara was finished with her,
pulling the dildo from Meg's arsehole, now trickling with a small passage of
blood. Meg's mind returned to her body, and she just lay there, slumped in her
bonds, the feeling of the water touching her body and the pain in her wrists
returning to her suddenly.

"Did you enjoy that, slut?" barked Kara. "Never mind. It wasn't for you to
enjoy, and I certainly did. Still, while your screams were nice enough, they
didn't get me off, if you know what I mean?"

Meg closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Kara's thighs locked around her
head, the powerful taste and smell of the amazon's sex.

Think of Donna. Think of Donna.

"You!" Kara cried. "Slut!" Meg flinched.

"Y... yes, Mistress," whimpered the other girl. Lisa. Meg was ashamed to feel a
rush of relief run through her.

"Get yourself ready for me. Just one thing I have to do first."

Meg hung there, waiting for whatever else awaited her. There was no doubt in her
mind now that Kara was evil, monstrous, utterly cruel and sadistic. How could
she work at a place to treat sexual deviance when she acted like that?

Meg tried to breathe out. She would be out of here soon. All she had to do was
co-operate with whatever Doctor Kavangh had in mind, pretend to go along with
the therapy, and then soon, she would be released. She would have to be.

Then she would find Donna, and...

She jumped slightly, a sudden burst of pain on her breast. And then another. And
another. The same stinging began to strike her belly, and her legs.

The water...

It had been war before, pleasantly so, but now...

Hot...

Hot...

Almost boiling...

Meg cried out, trying to shift herself back, out of the way of the water. Her
feet could not gain any purchase on the slick ground, and it took all her effort
to stay upright...

Completely in the path of the searing torrent.

"No!" she cried. "Please! Turn it down... Please!"

Kara only chuckled in reply. "I thought the last one seemed a little too cold,"
she noted. "Let's see if this gets you any cleaner."

"No!" the poor girl cried again, but the amazon did not reply.

However much Meg danced and writhed, she could not escape the burning water, and
any position that gave her any relief at all soon caused unbearable pressure on
her arms and wrists, and she had to collapse back into the torrent.

She whimpered, and screamed, and pleaded for mercy, but there was no rely from
Kara, not for a good long time. It seemed the sadistic amazon had found a new
target.

There was one thing, and only one thing, that Meg had cause to be grateful for,
as she hung there painfully beneath the burning showers. Bound as she was, she
could not see what it was that Kara was doing to poor Lisa to elicit such
terrible screams.

Sexual Deviance

Part 5 - Meeting Donna I

F/f, exhibitionism, romantic

"You look bored."

Megan looked up, unsure at first what she had heard. The pub was quiet, and
almost empty. Her friends had still not arrived, and she was nursing a half full
glass bitterly.

She gasped.

The speaker was the most beautiful girl - woman - that Megan had ever seen.
Tall, with gorgeously pale and soft skin, long auburn hair flowing down to her
waist. The red dress she wore was too fine for a place such as this, slit high
to reveal delicate, lacy stockings. The dress was tight, to reveal a wonderfully
curved body, and low enough to reveal an impressive cleavage. Around her neck
was a thin black collar, and a necklace of strange, gothic jewellery.

The woman smiled, with full, bright red lips - a colour to match her dress - and
she sat down opposite Megan.

"I said, 'you looked bored'," she repeated, in a mildly amused tone.

"I..." Megan spluttered. "I was... waiting for someone."

"You've been waiting a long time. I've been watching you. You've been here at
least an hour."

"You've been watching me that long..." How had Megan not noticed her? Easy
question. She wasn't thinking. She was angry and fed up and...

She had known they wouldn't come. She had known from the instant she had walked
into the pub, and they had not been here, but she had waited anyway, waited and
waited, feeling more and more angry with each passing moment.

Megan was dressed to go out. She was ready to go out. She had been looking
forward to it all week. The girls in her floor of the Halls had not been that
friendly, and they had quickly formed a clique that excluded Megan, but she kept
persevering.

Largely, this was because of Susanna. She was gorgeous, and imperious, and
blonde. She reminded Megan in many ways of her first - and only - Mistress, the
haughty Miss Melissa Young. Susanna was not a lesbian, not as far as Megan knew,
but it did not stop her trying.

Susanna and the others had finally invited Megan for a night out with them,
promising to meet her here. She should have known they were lying, she should
have asked why they couldn't just have left the Halls together, but she had come
here anyway, to the other end of the city, and they weren't here.

"They're not coming," she said, sadly, finally accepting that for herself. This
had been a joke played on her.

"More fool them," said the redhead, smiling. "Donna."

"Hmm? Oh... Oh... Megan. Megan Hayden."

"Meg," Donna said, as if trying the sound of the name. "I like that."

She reached out across the table and gently placed her hands over Megan's own.
There was a surge of electricity, and Megan found her heart pounding.

Donna simply smiled.

----------

"I see," said Doctor Kavanagh.

Meg shifted awkwardly in her chair, feeling the intensity of the Doctor's gaze
upon her. Meg's body ached, her sore was red and sore. The straitjacket she had
been forced back into after her shower was damp inside from her sweat, and from
the burning water still trickling on her skin.

The rough fabric rubbed at her in countless places. Her nipples in particular
were in agony, each breath causing them to touch the jacket, bringing tears to
her eyes.

And that was not to mention the pain from her arse. She could still feel Kara's
rape of her...

Thinking of Donna helped. Remembering Donna. That was something to hold onto,
something to cling to.

Meg had spent the rest of last night in her cell, sore and pained, and trying to
forget what had been done to her. She had slept a little, but woken with a
pounding headache and a dull throbbing at her shoulders. She had been fed and
left alone for a long time, until Doctor Kavanagh had summoned her.

The subject this time was Donna.

"Had you had any... ah... 'relationships' before you met Miss Nicholls," Doctor
Kavanagh asked.

Meg hated the way she had phrased that. But what could she say?

"No, Doctor," she said. "My hometown was.. it was small, quite conservative.
There was no... community as such. I wasn't with anyone until I went to
university."

"To a big town," the doctor said, smiling. "With all it's attendant thrills and
perils."

"I had a few... flings, I suppose. None of them lasted longer than a night. Some
of them just wanted a laugh and some..." Meg sighed. She wanted to think about
Donna, not dredge up these painful memories. "I didn't want to be political. I
didn't want to be campaigning for more rights, or protesting against Eminem
songs on the university radio. I didn't look like a typical lesbian and..."

She sighed again.

"I just wanted someone to love someone, someone to love me, someone I could
worship and adore."

"Isn't that nice?" said Doctor Kavanagh, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm.
"If you didn't spend all your time on your knees acting like such a total
fucking slut, maybe you would have been luckier, hmm?"

Meg closed her eyes and shuddered, trying to beat down the sudden hatred rising
within her. It was as if Doctor Kavanagh had become all the people who had held
her down, who had not understood her, who had hurt her... Her mother, her early
lovers...

She remembered Judy, the morning after their one, painful night together.

"You're not really one of us. You're a LUG."

"A what?"

"Lesbian Until Graduation, that's all. You just want to be arty and daring. You
give all the rest of us a bad image."

No, she couldn't be angry at Doctor Kavanagh. She couldn't let herself be.

"Low self-esteem, that's your problem, Megan. Mind you, even a half-trained
student psychiatrist could have seen that one coming. A need for submission
because you don't trust yourself to make your own decisions.

"Still, it's not all your fault. You've clearly been badly treated by others.
They've taken advantage of you, used this socio-sexual compulsion of yours for
their own personal advantage. This Donna, for example..."

"It wasn't like that!" Meg cried. "You don't understand anything!"

The doctor raised one perfect eyebrow. "Really? Well, we'll come back to that,
although you will never shout at me or interrupt me again, Miss Hayden. My time
and my speech are both far more important than yours.

"Now, carry on telling me about when you met Donna."

----------

They spoke for a little longer, although Donna was controlling the flow of the
conversation easily. Meg was paralysed by a strange combination of naked lust
and submissive terror. It was as if she needed permission to interrupt Donna, or
to ask her a question, or to change the topic of conversation, or, well,
anything at all.

She learned a lot about the bewitching redhead. Donna was twenty-three, four
years older than Meg. She had graduated, and was working in an office somewhere
in a boring job that had the benefit of being well paid. She lived in a nice
flat in a nice-ish area of town.

She was a lesbian, and a 'top' (a term Megan had never heard before but
instantly worked out what it meant). Donna didn't say that as such, but it was
blatantly clear from her actions, her bearing, her tone of voice. Even someone
as bad at reading the signs as Megan was worked that out.

She was single, and a Virgo. She liked heavy metal music, trashy romantic
novels, Hong Kong martial arts films and gothy graphic novels.

She drank vodka chilled with blackcurrant and precisely three cubes of ice.

She called Megan 'Meg'.

And she was planning on going to a club later tonight. She wasn't going with
anyone else in particular, and would Meg like to go with her?

"I'm sorry?" said Meg (she had decided that was how she would refer to herself
from now on). "I didn't..."

Donna smiled, a beautiful sight, slightly enigmatic, slightly amused. "I asked
if you wanted to come out to the club with me. Unless you had anywhere else to
go?"

"No... I mean, yes... No, there's nowhere... Yes, I want to..."

Meg could barely think. She was feeling just as she had in those toilets with
Miss Young. She would do whatever Donna told her to, even if that meant get down
on her knees and lick her right here.

Donna smiled again, and Meg knew she was in love.

----------

Doctor Kavanagh interrupted her there.

"What did she study?"

"I'm sorry?" Meg asked absently, tearing her mind away from those memories.
Talking about Donna brought everything back so clearly. She could remember
everything, the beauty of her smile, the smell of smoke in the air, the chatter
around her that seemed so completely drowned out by a few soft words...

"You said she had graduated from university. What did she study?"

"Oh... um... English, I think?"

"You think?"

"English Literature."

"Ah." There was a world of contempt in that sound. "I see. Was she particularly
insightful, do you think?"

"I'm not..." Yes, she was. Donna had known so much. She had always seemed to
know what Meg had been thinking. Always. "Yes," Meg said. "Yes, she was."

"Ah. Well, carry on. I'm listening avidly."

----------

It was called the Power Point, a place that Meg had never heard of. ("Isn't that
the name of a computer program?" she had asked, and Donna had laughed.)

Donna was clearly known there. There was no queue outside, and the two of them
breezed in through a dark hallway. Donna paid for them both to get in.

Meg wasn't sure what to expect, but it both was, and wasn't, what she found.

On one level, The Power Point could be seen as a generic nightclub. There were
two large rooms playing different types of music (gothic metal in one, more
classic dance in the other) each of which had a bar and a large dancing area.
There were several smaller rooms, generally quieter, with people just sitting
around and talking. The drinks sold were just the sort of drinks Meg would
expect to find in a normal nightclub, and at roughly the same sort of prices.

So far, so normal.

Except that all the guests were women. Slightly unusual. And all of them were
dressed...

Donna's red dress just about fitted in. It gave her a goth seductress type look,
particularly when combined with her jewellery. Meg's low cut halter top and
skirt did not fit in at all.

She saw women wearing skin-tight leather, transparent swathes of fabric,
strategically placed straps of leather, lingerie. More than one woman was
bare-breasted. Several wore hoods completely covering their heads.

Meg half-wished she had a hood herself as she looked around. She was blushing.
She had to be.

"First time here?" Donna asked casually. Meg could only nod dumbly. Two women
were walking past them, one on her knees, being lead by a long leash.

"They have theme nights sometimes, just like most places. They had a nurses
night last week. That was fun."

"You... come here a lot?"

"It's the only place in town I like. Come on, I'll get the drinks."

It was lucky Meg was already feeling slightly light-headed, otherwise she would
probably have run from this place screaming. It was all so overwhelming. To see
so many people wandering around half-naked, blatantly unashamed of what they
did...

A woman wandered past, tall and amazon in stature, wearing just a long T-shirt
with an arrow pointing down, and the words 'It Ain't Gonna Lick Itself.'

It was hot in here. Meg fanned herself, uncomfortably aware that the heat was
coming from inside of her.

Donna bought the drinks, bantering lightly with the barmaid. Meg only overheard
a few words, but she  did catch a reference to Donna's 'vanilla friend'. Meg
then followed the redhead out to a small room, much quieter and fortunately
empty.

"You had a rabbit caught in the headlights sort of look," Donna said, as they
sat down. "I like it. It's nice."

"Thank you," Meg whispered, barely inaudibly.

Donna laughed. "Want a word of advice? Calm down a little. Nothing's going to
happen to you here. Well, unless you want something to."

"I don't... stand out?" That had always been one of her biggest fears. Far
better to be anonymous, to go unnoticed, anything but attract attention. In a
regular nightclub, she would have blended in perfectly. But here...

"Maybe a little," Donna conceded. She took a sip of her drink. "There aren't
many others here as sexy as you are."

Time froze for Meg at that point. To have this gorgeous and confident woman call
her sexy... It wasn't some sort of joke, was it? Some trick? She looked at
Donna, and saw no deception at all in her bearing. Why would she lie about
something like that?

But then would someone as beautiful as her really think Meg was sexy?

In a bid to calm herself, the shaking girl looked around. There were strange
things on the walls and ceiling. It was hard to see in the dark, but...

"What is this place?" she breathed.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "It's a fetish club. An all-girl club, at that. It's
not a proper fetish night tonight, but they leave most of the props out anyway.
You should come along on a special night. They pump dry ice into the place, and
keep the lighting moody and mysterious, and increase the volume and everyone can
hear everything." She took another sip. "Very nice." And another one. "Do you
really not know how sexy you are?"

That last remark slipped by Meg at first. It was only with the silence that
indicated Donna was expecting a reply, that she started.

"What?"

"Shyness is cool. I like a bit of shyness in a girl. But there are limits.
There's a place where it stops being endearing and cute and becomes low
self-esteem. Do you get me?"

Meg shook her head. She really didn't.

Donna sighed. "Look. I know I only met you tonight, but I like to think I'm a
good judge of character, and if I didn't think you were a little bit special, I
wouldn't have asked you here. Whatever some people might say about me, I don't
hang around in pubs looking for straight girls to pervert and corrupt and do
horrible things to. I saw you there and you looked... I don't know. Special. And
lonely. And shy.

"Now maybe it's just that you're in a strange place, and you're pissed off
because your friends didn't show up, or maybe it's that time of the month,
although I really hope not. Maybe you're just surprised by this whole place, or
are adjusting to coming out, or whatever...

"Or maybe, you really do think you're nothing special. Maybe you've been told
all along that you're nothing and the best thing you can do is stay out of the
way, be unobtrusive. Maybe you've got brothers or sisters who were always the
special one in the family. Maybe your parents weren't terribly supportive,
something like that.

"The first is understandable. The second... that's sad. And a waste. I hate to
see potential for anything go to waste, and I can see you deserve a hell of a
lot more than being stuck in the shadows while lesser people get all the glory.

"Do you get me?"

Meg was still, and silent, unable to take that in. Did she really...? How could
she...?

"I'm better off where... I... am..."

"Oh, for the..." Donna reached out, took the drink from Meg's hand and set it
down. "Allow me to prove it to you. But first, here's a choice. Do you want to
leave? I'll call you a taxi to get you home if you like."

Meg still said nothing. She could not speak.

"Good. Then do what I tell you. Take your top off."

What?

"I told you to do something," Donna said, her voice low and dangerous.

That was the Mistress-voice. The same one Meg had heard from Miss Young. The
same one she had been hearing and responding to her entire life. It had been
used on her by her mother, her aunts, her elder sister, her teachers, her
bosses, everyone. She had gotten so used to obeying instantly... Obedience had
been engrained into her.

Small wonder she had come to associate sex with submission.

Meekly, she obeyed, sliding the halter up over her head and dropping it onto the
sofa. She had chosen not to wear a bra, and she now sat there, bare-breasted
before Donna. Meg's breasts were smaller than Donna's. Once they had been a
small C cup, but she had dieted since then, lost a lot of weight, and they were
now just B's.

Donna reached out to caress her. Meg bit her lip. Her nipples began to harden.

"Come with me," Donna ordered.

Again, Meg obeyed. She had no choice.

Donna led her out into the hallway between the two dance rooms. The competing
music was loud, each song rising and falling in Meg's ears, a near cacophony of
sound from two types of music she didn't really like all that much.

She hadn't noticed before, but the walls here featured manacles as well, set
about seven feet off the floor. Donna pushed her back against the wall, and
reached up for the chains.

Meg did not resist as Donna clipped the shackles around her wrists. There were
cold, metal, but padded inside. It was not uncomfortable. In fact, it felt
right, natural. It always had. It was much easier to be bound and helpless.

"You are wearing panties, aren't you?"

Blushing at the intimacy of the question, Meg nodded. She had only stopped
wearing a bra to go out because a previous one-night stand had hated the way the
straps showed on her shoulders.

"Good." Donna then pulled Meg's skirt down from her waist, leaving it around her
ankles.

Meg was wearing panties, but they were skimpy and lacey. She had bought them for
this night, hoping  Susanna would get to see them. Wisps of her pubic hair
showed around the edges.

Donna stood very close to her then, her body pressing hard against Meg's own.
Her head tilted downwards, she spoke very quietly to the young girl.

"This place is full of women," Donna whispered. "There are probably at least two
to three hundred here. You've seen them. You know how many of them are
attractive, or made an effort to look attractive.

"I'll be back to let you out in half an hour. See what kind of attention you
get, and then tell me no one could think you are sexy."

Donna stepped back. "Unless you want me to let you out now. Three..." Meg did
want her to. She couldn't bear the thought of standing out here like this,
practically naked, for anyone to see.

"Two..."

The shame of it... But it excited her as well. Could people really think she was
attractive? Coul these sorts of women think she was sexy?

"One..."

No! Let me out!

But she dare not say it. Not to Donna. Her Mistress had commanded, and she could
have to obey.

It was all that she was good for.

"I'll see you later, then," Donna said, walking away with a wiggle of her hips.

At first, Meg was too afraid to do or say anything, even to think. She closed
her eyes, and kept them closed for as long as she could, hoping that no one
would ever notice she was there. Why would they anyway?

A few people walked past the place of her confinement. Some were crossing
between rooms, others making for the toilets. A few were leaving early. Meg
heard some remarks clearly aimed in her direction, but she closed her eyes even
harder.

"Little vanilla girl," she heard more than once. Meg did not know what 'vanilla'
meant, but it had the feel of an insult.

It was the feel of a hard pinch on one of her nipples that forced her to open
her eyes with a startled yelp.

A woman was standing before her, tall and arrogant looking, in her early to mid
thirties, dressed in a tight PVC bodice and skirt.

"I haven't seen you before," she said, her long-nailed fingers still rubbing at
Meg's nipple. "No offence, honey, but you don't look the sort to come to a place
like this. Looking for a bit of a thrill, were you?"

Meg tried to reply, but could only elicit a muted squeak. Goose bumps were
beginning to rise across her body. It was not terribly warm here, but her
trembling had nothing to do with the cold.

"Just another vanilla good-time girl looking into the seedy side of life, hmm?"

She pinched harder, and Meg cried out. The woman pressed herself against Meg's
nearly naked body, rubbing herself softly.

"No collar, no leash, no mark, nothing. No one owns you, sweetie. That makes you
common property."

"No, please..." Meg finally managed to speak, but the words were so quiet she
doubted the woman heard them.

Slowly, the woman slid her free hand down Meg's belly, across her waist, gliding
around the edges of her lacey panties...

Meg's breath became harsh, raking gasps.

The woman tilted her head, brushing her lips against Meg's...

Then she pulled back. "I have a slave girl, hon. I don't need another, least of
all some thrill seeker like you. Come and find me when you're ready to be a
proper little sub, and then we'll talk." With a laugh, she walked away.

Meg was still shaking, her body still tense and taut, bumps raised across her
skin. More people passed through after that. Most of them looked at her. Some no
more than a fleeting glance, but others gave her lingering gazes, running their
eyes up and down her lasciviously.

A few tried to speak to her, to ask her questions, but she couldn't find her
voice to answer. Some gave her wolf-whistles that she would expect from a group
of builders.

She was called various names, including 'sexy', 'sweetling', 'honey', 'slut',
'whore', 'gorgeous'...

She might have expected this behaviour from men. She knew they would stare at
anything in a skirt, regardless of how attractive they were, but there were no
men here. Just women, and more and more of them spent time ogling Meg.

Part of her was ashamed. To be seen like this! Bare-breasted, her skirt around
her ankles, wearing the skimpiest of panties... She had only had five sexual
partners in her whole life, and only one for more than one night. In the space
of twenty or so minutes, she had been seen practically naked by four times that
number of people.

But another part, the same part of her that had responded so well to Miss
Young's autocratic commands...

There was something there.

She didn't know any of these people. They didn't know her. Each of them thought
she was something, came to their own conclusions about her, but none of them
knew her. So what matter what they saw of her?

After quite a while, another woman was chained to the shackles just opposite
Meg. She had a wonderfully curvy figure, and a long mane of blond hair. She was
naked save for a collection of leather straps that emphasised rather than
concealed her figure. In places, they dug sharply into her skin. She was quite a
bit shorter than Meg, and her Mistress had shortened the chains by some
mechanism, leaving her balancing very precariously by her tiptoes.

She looked at Meg and smiled. "You're a new one," she panted. "Don't think I've
seen you here before."

"It's my... first time..." Meg said. Her arms were aching, and she was still
cold, but she had started to get used to her position by now. A number of
thoughts had been running through her mind for a while.

"Thought so. Who brought you here?"

"Donna."

"Oh, yeah. I know her. Nice girl. You her latest, then?"

"Her latest what?"

"Oh, she's had a little... bad luck with women. Had trouble finding the right
person. Me, I was lucky. Found a good Mistress not long after I realised what I
was."

"Is she the woman who put you there?"

"I spilled her drink." A wide smile rose across the woman's face. "Now, wasn't
that careless of me?"

"Doesn't that hurt?" The straps must be digging into her, not to mention the
awkward way she was standing.

"Yeah, but it's a good pain. Physical pain isn't so bad. I like it. Better to be
whipped and tied up by a woman who loves you than taken for granted by someone
who doesn't."

"Yes..." Meg breathed. "I... I guess..."

"Donna's a nice one. Better than some. Look after her, won't you?"

"What?" Meg look after her? But...

The blond laughed. "Trust me. The dommes wouldn't last five minutes without us
to look after them. We need them, sure, but they need us more. A good slave
isn't easy to find."

"Hello, Angel," said a familiar voice, and Meg stiffened. Donna walked casually
into view, Meg's halter tossed casually over one shoulder. "Have you been bad
again?"

"Always, Mistress."

"Are you meant to be talking?"

"If Mistress didn't want me to speak, she should have gagged me. Or she can
punish me later. I've been talking with your new girl."

"Ah, yes." Meg could feel Donna look at her. It was an intense gaze, for all the
seeming casualness of Donna's bearing. Looking to see if she was any different,
if she had been changed by her experiences, if Donna had been proved right.

The truth was, Meg wasn't sure... not yet. She was embarrassed and ashamed and
terrified, but she was also a little bit excited as well. To be so brazenly on
display like that, to have had so many people take notice in an environment full
of gorgeous woman as open for display as she was...

Donna ran a hand across Meg's cheek slowly. "Are you ready to come down now,
sweetie?" she asked.

Meg nodded, panting.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Again, Meg nodded.

Donna leaned in very close, the heat of her body warming Meg delightfully. "What
do you want me to do now?" she asked. "I could let you go, get you a taxi back
to your place, chalk this up as an experience for both of us and move on. What
do you want?"

"Whatever you do, Mistress," Meg breathed, huskily.

Donna smiled, her full red lips forming a wonderful feline grin.

"Let's go to my place," she purred.

Next: Meeting Donna II

Sexual Deviance
Part 6 - Meeting Donna II

F/f,  romantic, bondage

Donna's flat was nice. Not overly large, but it had a homely air to it. Covered
with clutter, old clothes draped over the sofa, newspapers going back a few
weeks strewn over the floor, magazines here and there, a few full bin bags
waiting to be emptied.

Meg paid no attention to any of that. Her first thought was the bedroom, the
door from the hallway slightly ajar.

Meg had never felt anything like this before. Her previous affairs had been
dominated by her own innate desire to serve. She had been afraid, but it had not
been the pleasant, welcoming fear she had experienced those times with Miss
Young. It had been nervousness. Will this one last? Will this one want me in the
morning? Does this one really care about me?

That nervousness had vanished here. There was fear, but it was exciting and
desirable. The fear she had known bound almost naked in the corridor, that had
excited her. Only half an hour later, the feeling was beginning to fade,
retreating into her subconscious.

Some things stuck. People had stared at her. People had called her things.
People had seemed to want her.

Better to be whipped and tied up by a woman who loves you than taken for granted
by someone who doesn't.

That one simple sentence stuck with her.

Donna did not bother with the preliminaries. She made no small talk, did not
offer Meg a coffee, nothing like that. She pushed open the door to the bedroom,
and waved for Meg to enter.

The room was small, untidy, clothes and books strewn about. Meg took in random
details without realising it. A large wooden chest in the corner. A stuffed blue
rabbit resting on the bedside cabinet. A graphic novel dropped beside the bed.

Meg felt as though she were floating, buzzing with energy. All over she was
tingling. Donna's body seemed to be radiating heat.

Donna glided close to her, their bodies brushing, her lips caressing Meg's
softly. Her head spinning, Meg let Donna push her down to the bed. Donna stood
above her, looking down, brushing Meg's hair.

Instinctively, obediently, Meg slid forward, to her knees, her mouth level with
Donna's groin. She began to push aside the folds of Donna's dress.

Donna shook her head, smiling. "Up on the bed," she breathed. Puzzled, but still
obedient, Meg sat up. She had assumed Donna would want her to... Everyone else
had.

A thought weaved its way slowly through the fog of desire surrounded her mind.

Donna wasn't like everyone else.

"Top off," Donna ordered, moving to the wooden chest, and opening it, rummaging
inside. By the time she returned, Meg was naked from the waist up, shivering,
partly from cold, partly from something else, something more than mere arousal.

Donna was holding a pair of handcuffs, felt lined. Gently, wth a flirtatious
smile on her face, she pulled Meg's hands behind her back, and secured them
there. They were soft and did not rub at Meg's skin, but they were unbreakable
and firm for all that.

Meg made soft moans as Donna pulled down her skirt, and slowly slid the panties
down her legs, leaving skirt and underwear entwined around her ankles.
Understanding was dawning. Donna wanted her naked before she would let Meg lick
her. Fair enough. That only made Meg more excited.

Still smiling, Donna slid down to her knees, spreading Meg's legs apart.

But...

Only slaves did that... Only... what was the word?... subs... bottoms... only
they did that?

Why would...?

Meg made to speak, to voice her confusion, but at that very moment Donna touched
her mouth to Meg's damp pussy, and the only sound that came out was a moan.

Oh...

Oh, my...

This made no sense. This confused Meg's entire view of the relationship between
slave and Mistress, but she did not care. Something she had previously found as
logical as the rising of the sun was thrown into disarray, and she did not have
the will to think about it.

Oh!

Oh!

Ohhhhhh!

She did not know if she was making those sounds, or simply voicing them inside
her mind. At that moment, Meg would not have been sure of anything, not even her
own name.

Oooooohhhhhhhhh!

This was...

Oh!

Incredible...

She had never...

Oh!

Oh! Oh! Oh! Ohohohohohohohohohohohoh!

She threw her head back, her body falling down onto the bed. Donna kept up her
work, still licking, lapping, caressing...

Oh!

There was a moment of silence, of completeness, of everything and nothing,
spreading out across her body, touching her nipples and her knees and her ears
and her toes and each strand of her hair. It was incredible, unbelievable,
ecstatic...

It was as if she had died...

"Oh..." she breathed softly, unable to comprehend what this was that had
happened to her.

Donna rose up, and idly ran a finger across Meg's face, flicking away a bead of
sweat. "Sounded like you enjoyed that," she said, jokingly.

"Oh," Meg said, simply.

Donna chuckled, and stood up stretching. Quickly, and carelessly, she shed her
dress and kicked off her shoes, revealing only crimson panties. She removed them
as well, and lay down on the bed, next to Meg, their bodies touching in
countless places. Everywhere they touched seemed to Meg to be an exposed nerve
ending, fire and fury passing through her entire body.

Donna kissed her neck, and she moaned.

"Been a while, huh?" Donna purred. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to take
whatever praise you want to give out, but I know I'm not that good."

"Never... known..." Meg panted. "Never..." She couldn't form a coherent
sentence.

"What?" Donna looked confused. Then she lifted herself up, resting on one elbow.
"You've never had..." Meg shook her head. "Never?" Again, a shake of the head.

"God, what kind of women have you been with?" A sudden thought came to her. "You
have been with women before?"

Meg nodded. "None of them ever did... that to me... Always me... to them..."

"What? Oh, sweetie. You haven't been choosing well."

"They... all..."

"Let me guess. They all wanted you to do what they wanted, the way they wanted
it. Right? And they all dumped you in the morning?" A nod. "You sure they
weren't men in disguise?"

"It was just... that was my... my... role... I was the... didn't know what to
call it... but the... the sub?"

"Anyone who tries to tell you that's your role is lying to get in your pants,
sweetie."

"But..."

"Listen to me. As a domme, one of the sexiest things I can imagine is watching a
girl screaming herself hoarse in orgasm. I loved hearing you then, looking at
you now... To know that I could do that to you, that I could have stopped at any
time..." She ran a sharp nail down Meg's thigh. "That's what I like."

"Better to be whipped and tied up by a woman who loves you than taken for
granted by someone who doesn't," Meg said quietly.

"Sounds like one of Angel's to me."

"Yes..."

Donna kissed her neck. "She's right, you know."

"Yes," Meg said weakly. "I think she might be."

----------

"Interesting," Doctor Kavanagh mused. "That was the first orgasm you ever had?"

"Yes, Doctor," Meg replied, faintly embarrassed. Bad enough she was having to
relive such a tender moment - the first time in her life she could recall being
truly happy - but to be questioned about such a matter...

You are a slut...

You are a disgusting little whore...

She remembered that image of herself, writhing and thrusting wildly in sexual
desire. She mentally compared it to that insane, glorious first experience with
Donna.

There was nothing wrong with arousal, surely? This wasn't some Puritan religious
state.

Disgusting little whore...

"None of your previous lovers had ever... what is the phrase? Gone down on you
before?"

"No, Doctor."

"And just Donna?"

Meg was about to mention Nurse Aiko's attentions while she had been strapped and
helpless, but then she recalled Doctor Kavanagh's reaction when she mentioned
the drugs in that meal. She kept quiet about that.

"Yes, Doctor."

"Ah. She was a particularly insightful person, you said?"

"Yes, Doctor." Where was this going?

"And the woman at that club... Angel? She said Donna had been with other women
before?"

"Yes."

"Did Donna ever talk to you about her previous lovers?"

"Just a little... She said... she had been looking for someone special, and she
hadn't found anyone until me."

"Aw, isn't that sweet? I'm going to be saying things you won't want to hear,
Miss Hayden. I think I have a good idea as to, if not the root cause, then at
least the reason for the exaggeration of your deviant behaviour and desires.
First, I think I want a bit more information. Carry on telling me about that
first time together."

----------

The weekend passed in a state of bliss. Meg had never known anything like that,
had never imagined anything like it. Entirely naked, usually tied up in some
fashion or other, her whole body tingling from Donna's skilled manipulations.

Most of it they spent in bed, but not always. They had watched TV on Donna's
couch, Meg naked, her hands cuffed behind her back, Donna playing with her
constantly, driving her wild. After about twenty minutes, Donna had tured the
telly off and thrown Meg to the floor.

Donna had prepared food for them, admitting she was a poor cook. Meg thought the
food was very good indeed, and had shyly offered to cook herself.

"You can't be worse than me, sweetie. What can you make?"

"Pasta, with tomato and salmon sauce. Welsh rarebit. A stir fry."

"Sounds fine. I'd better pop out to the supermarket to get some stuff. I hadn't
been expecting company this weekend." Donna smiled. "Now how to make sure you
don't run away the instant my back's turned?"

The twenty minutes Meg had spent chained to Donna's bed were the longest of her
life up until then. Listening out for the sound of the door, terrified Donna
would not return. Maybe she would get run over, or... or arrested for something
by mistake, or kidnapped...

Or maybe she would just not want to return. Maybe she found someone better on
the way to the supermarket.

Maybe...

The door opened, and Donna entered.

"Sorry about the wait. There was a long queue and this stupid, stupid bint on
the till and..." She paused, looking down at the naked and helpless Meg,
evidently noticing the sheer relief in Meg's eyes.

"I'll tell you aout it later," she said, moving forward.

Eventually, Meg had done the cooking, making the pasta with sauce. Not exactly
difficult, but it was a meal she knew well. It had been almost surreal, cooking
the only recipe her mother had taught her, wearing nothing except an apron that
said 'Kiss the Cook'.

Meg knelt (now naked again) besides Donna's chair as she ate. Donna fed her some
of the pasta by hand. Donna's approving words for her cooking meant more to Meg
than any other compliment she had ever received.

Most of the time, of course, they spent in bed.

"You have a lot of books," Meg noted idly, during one of many post-coital
moments. Her hands were cuffed to the leather collar that was the only thing she
wore.

"I've always liked reading. All sorts of things." Meg recognised some of them,
but not others. "I'll lend you some if you like." Meg nodded dreamily. "I've got
a few... ah... special books. Here, let me get one."

Donna pulled a thin, black-spined paperback from her shelf. Meg looked at the
title. Castle of Slavery. The cover featured a very attractive, Oriental woman,
chained in a dungeon. Meg's heart began to beat faster.

"Let me read it to you," Donna said.

"Snow Lily opened her eyes to darkness and fear. Everything around her was black
and cold. She tried to shift her position and realised that she was very tightly
bound. For a frenzied moment she struggled and writhed against her bonds, but to
no good. She was held very securely."

Meg listened avidly, imagining herself in Star Lily's place. Only, fortunately
for her, she was not held prisoner by an evil sorceress, but by a beautiful and
kind woman. She was shifting uneasily, crossing and un-crossing her legs to stem
the rising tide of desire she was feeling.

This was...

This was porn. It was a sex book. Oh, there was a plot, and characterisation,
but it was still a book about sex. Erotica, maybe, but she had never really
distinguished the line between erotica and porn.

She was being aroused by a porn book.

And she didn't care. It all seemed... right somehow.

Donna reaced the end of the first, short chapter, with Star Lily fleeing into
the city after having escaped her monstrous captors. Carefully, Donna inserted a
bookmark, placed the book on the floor, and slid her hand up Meg's thigh.

Over the course of the weekend, they finished the book. Donna showed Meg the
others she ad, promising to lend them to her.

And then, at some sleepy point after midnight Sunday.

"I wsh I didn't have to go to work tomorrow," Donna moaned. "I'm tempted to call
in sick. I really am."

"I have lectures," Meg said, wishing she hadn't. She could have missed them, but
her grades were slipping as it was.

"I'll get you a taxi back to yours tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Well, that was that. One weekend. Not that Meg wasn't grateful. She had
never felt anything like this, never known anyone like her. She would always
remember this weekend fondly. But... it would have been nice for it to continue,
for the two of them to have a relationship.

Oh, get real, she told herself. Why would a woman as sexy, as funny, as
wonderful as Donna, possibly want to be in a relationship with her?

And then, suddenly, treacherously, Meg began to cry.

"Sweetie? Meg, what's wrong? Meg?"

She couldn't reply.

"Oh... oh, Meg... Are you... having second thoughts?"

"What?"

"About seeing me again? I'll understand... if you... I know it can be hard
admitting to yourself what you feel... I had some trouble, and based on some of
the women you've been with... If you want to play it cool for a while, I'll
understand. I'll still be here if you... change your mind."

"What?" Meg tried to think. What was she saying? That she, that Meg, that...

No!

"No," she breathed. "I... you... I thought that... I..."

Donna rested herself up on one elbow. "Love... you..." She laughed. "You really
need to think about yourself a bit more and realise what an incredible person
you are." She kissed Meg then, tenderly and lovingly and wonderfully. Then, her
lips mere inches from Meg's own, she whispered, "can I see you tomorrow night?"

"Yes," Meg breathed, blinking tears from her eyes. "Oh, yes, I'd like that,
Mistress."

"Mistress?" Donna smiled. "I like the sound of that."

----------

"We moved in together about a month later," Meg said, trying to avert her eyes
from Doctor Kavanagh's gaze. The psychiatrist seemed to be thinking something,
and crsing Meg for being too stupid to notice it herself. "Donna got a new flat
about three months after that, big enough for the two of us."

"And your course? How did that go?"

"I failed some of my first year modules. I had to re-sit them. The re-sits
didn't go well... I dropped out after that. I got some temp jobs, worked in a
pub for a while..."

"Did Donna tell you to drop out of your course?"

"We... talked it over together."

"Did she recommend you drop out?"

"She said... she said that... that I shouldn't carry on doing something I wasn't
enjoying."

"Hmm." Doctor Kavanagh made some notes at that. She had been writing throughout
Meg's story. She suddenly winced and rubbed at her head tenderly. A look of pain
flashed across her face. "Excuse me," she said, angrily. "A migraine. I... get
them from time to time."

She picked up what was obviously some kind of painkiller, and took two, sipping
them with a glass of water.

"There, that will make it better, for a time."

"It must be... painful, having migraines," Meg volunteered, slowly. "My... Dad
used to get... them..."

The look on her face at that... it was an expression of outright... Meg had
never seen anyone look at her that way before. A combination of disgust and
hatred and loathing and...

"Really? Well, isn't that a little pleasant fact? Are you trying to build some
empathy between us? Do you really think I could have anything in common with a
filthy little slut like you?"

"No..." Meg whimpered.

"What was that?"

"No, Doctor Kavanagh!"

"Don't shout, Megan. I'm sorry. I get very irritable when a migraine comes on."

The doctor stretched, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. Blinking, she then
looked at the stress toy on her desk, the Newton's cradle. Taking two of the
balls, she raised them, and set them clacking against the rest, watching them
for a time.

"Speaking of your father," she said, after a few moments. Clack. "When did
you... ah... 'come out' to your parents?" Clack. "I think that's the modern
phrase."

Clack.

Meg closed her eyes.

Clack.

"Why don't you tell me about that?"

Clack.

Next: Doctor Kavanagh's Diagnosis

Sexual Deviance
Part 7 - Doctor Kavanagh's Diagnosis

F/f,  romantic, bondage, humiliation, toys

You're dead to us...

You've destroyed this family.

How could you, Megan? How could you?

Dead!

Your studies finished like that...

I'll cut you out of our will. You'll not get a penny. Not a penny!

Oh, Megan...

Look at what you've done to your mother! Look at her!

I always knew something was wrong. She never wanted to play with dolls like the
other girls.

Please, Mum, Dad, it's not like that, it's not...

Get out!

If only you could meet Donna, you'll see...

Bring that whore around here and I'll be doing time for murder.

Dad...

Get out! I don't have a daughter.

--------

"Hmm," purred Doctor Kavanagh. "Interesting."

Meg was silent, her head bowed. She had not wanted to relive that again. It had
been bad enough the first time, and the twenty times after that. She wanted to
cry, but she just didn't feel capable of tears.

"When was this?"

"About... I don't know, a few months after I moved in with Donna. Not long after
I dropped out. I wanted to tell them... about both things at the same time."

"Hmm. I take it that reaction was not... unexpected."

"I... I'd hoped for..."

"Did you make any further attempts at contacting them?"

"Two. One was on Mum's brithday. The other was when my brother got engaged."

"I assume neither went well."

"They returned the card I got Mum. Wouldn't even see me when I went around for
my brother's engagement party."

"Did Donna suggest you try?"

"I didn't want to, but she... talked me into it."

"What about her family? Do they know?"

"She doesn't see them much. They live abroad."

"Do they know what she likes to do?"

"She's told them she's a lesbian, if that's what you mean."

"Don't be cheeky with me, whore. My headache is fading a little, but only a
little. I am in no mood for your sarcasm."

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

"I doubt that. But anyway, you said you had a brother. Tell me about him."

"He's three years older than I am. He's a lawyer. Commercial law. He'd be
married now, I think. I heard they had a baby on the way."

"Let me guess. He was always the popular one. Handsome, charming, did well at
school, played sport, won medals, that sort of thing."

"Yes. How did you...?"

"Unlike some people, Megan, I am not stupid. I suppose your parents wanted you
to conform. If this was America, they'd want you to be a cheerleader or
something, right?"

"Yes. That... sort of thing."

"Hmm. Well, my diagnosis is coming together. Unlike you, Megan. You are only
coming apart. Tell me, how did Donna react when you returned home after your
'coming out' party with your family?"

---------

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry..."

Meg couldn't speak. She just couldn't form the words. How could they have said
such things? To call her...

They were her family! The only family she had. They were all she had, and they
had... they had... how could they have...

"They'll come around. They just need time, that's all. They'll come around."

No, they won't, you stupid bitch! This was all your fault! If you hadn't talked
me into telling them, if you hadn't...

If you hadn't made me feel so happy... none of the others would have cared what
my parents knew. It was only you, only you who tried to make this a proper
relationship.

Meg said nothing as Donna rocked her gently. How could she be feeling those
things? Thinking those things? Donna loved her. Without her, Meg would have
nothing...

Donna kissed her forehead gently. "There, there," she whispered.

"Hurt me," Meg whispered.

"What? I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't hear..."

Meg stepped back, her face streaked with tears. "Hurt me. Whip me. Beat me.
Treat me like a... a... whore."

"Meg..."

"Hurt me!"

They'd experimented, trying out various things. Bondage, of course. Donna had
some light whips, some nipple clamps, but nothing worse than that. They'd
play-acted rape and torture scenarios, but nothing more than play-acting. Donna
never let it get too far.

Now, Meg couldn't care.

"Hurt me! I need to be hurt... to be... punished... I'm filthy... I... I..." She
slumped to her knees. "I'm dirty... I need to be punished... need to be..."

Donna held her tightly. "I'll be here," she whispered. "I'll always be here."

----------

"Interesting. That's what she said. 'I'll always be here.'"

"I... I think so."

"You think so?"

"I don't remember it exactly."

"You're describing a night like that, one of the most undoubtedly emotional of
your life, and you can't remember exactly what was said to you. Come on now,
Megan. You have to be honest with me."

"That's what she said."

"Hmm... Let me try and continue the story. She held you for a while, and then
took you to bed, where she did things to you, things that you no doubt enjoyed,
as disgusting perverts like you, tend to. She loved you she loved you a lot,
which you naturally believed. You became more convinced that you loved her as
well. Am I warm?"

"That's... yes... that's what happened."

"Your Donna must be an incredibly perceptive woman."

"Yes... she is."

Doctor Kavanagh stretched, never taking her eyes off the half-naked girl sitting
opposite her. "I am actually finding myself partly respecting her, as grotesque
as that sounds. Intelligent, manipulative, the sort of woman who knows what she
wants and takes it... I can almost relate. Why she would want someone like you
is, alas, beyond my judgment, but I suppose it takes all kinds."

"But..."

"Shut up, slut! I am talking, and you will not interrupt me!

"From the first moment I saw you, I was pretty convinced as to what you were.
The more we have talked, and the more I have seen you, the more certain I have
become. What you have told me now just confirms my opinion.

"You suffer from chronically low self-esteem. This is not surprising, not even
to you, I imagine. An over-achieving brother. Traditionally minded parents. A
lack of aptitude for school that leads to you having to cheat at exams. Passed
over by the boys at school to the extent where the only one interested in you is
some worthless drug addict..."

"That's not what..."

"Be silent!

"There, that's better. Now, where was I?

"Ah, yes. You probably had perverse tendencies for some time. It was that...
Melissa Young that first brought them out. From what you've told me, she sounds
like a dominant-control personality. She had no lesbian tendencies as such, and
was probably entirely heterosexual, a fact confirmed by you telling me she fell
pregnant.

"It was just that she saw you as being someone with low self-esteem, found out
some information with which to control you, and took advantage of that. Such
people like to be in control of weaker individuals. It re-affirms their own
superiority. She was not interested in you sexually, or physically. It was
just... a way to dominate you that you would find most embarrassing. An ugly,
inexperienced virgin with no boyfriends and a traditional family. It would have
been the easiest way for her to force control over you. She tired of you
eventually, of course, moving on to other fields. After that first time, it was
probably just habit for her anyway.

"Then, you went to university, taking a difficult course that was clearly well
beyond you academically. You should never even have been admitted to it. For
that, I suppose, you can blame the Government and their ridiculous obsession
with getting everyone into higher education. Oh well, that's their problem.

"The workload no doubt confirmed your inner feelings of inadequacy. You knew you
would not be able to get a boyfriend, even in such an environment as university,
where men will sleep with anything with breasts. You rationalised this as being
that you were a lesbian, and this was why boys were not interested in you.

"So, you turned to girls. They were no doubt also dominant-control personality
types, modelling your only lesbian experience up to that time, even though it
was not really sexual in nature. None of those people were interested in a
relationship, and if they were, it was certainly not with someone like you.
After all, you had no respect for yourself, jumping into bed with every woman in
sight. Why should they have any respect for you?

"Then, enter Miss Nicholls. Donna at least, represents a variation in your
predictible and trite pattern. While she is clearly into dominance and control,
she is a rarer and more subtle type. You see, she craves emotional dominance
just as much as physical. Not for her just to fuck you while you are lightly
tied up, no. She wants you to feel total emotional dependence on her.

"Think about it. Every major decision of your life after meeting her, whether to
drop out of university, or to move in with her, or to come out to your parents,
was made after talking with her. I imagine she did most of the talking.

"Isolated from your family, with no peer groups around, a series of
soul-destroying jobs, no one remaining but her... and it comes to the stage when
she is all you identify with. Her ideas are those you consider normal. Whether
she regards lesbianism and fetishism as normal behaviour or not, I don't know,
but she has convinced you they are normal. You indulge in vile, perverted acts
and think it is in the name of love.

"I mean, really, Megan. You were found unconscious by a public roadway wearing
only a pair of leather panties. What sort of slut are you?

"She has only brought forward was what already there. You feel weak and isolated
and alone, blaming everyone else for their successful lives. The only source of
pleasure open to you is sexual, and even that you associate with submission and
worthlessness.

"You take sexual pleasure in foul acts, and you try to rationalise it to
yourself. You, Miss Hayden, are a slut, and a whore, and a disgusting, vile
little wretch. It may be the modern belief to say that this is not your fault,
that all manner of activities are reasonable and permissible, but I do not
agree. Some things are right, and some things are wrong. Thrashing around,
humping the air like some beast in rut is most definitely wrong.

"Fortunately for you, I suppose, treatment is at hand. You are in the best place
in the country to treat sexual deviance such as yours. It is not easy, and you
have to want to change, but it can be done. The first step, as I have said, is
recognising what you are and deciding to be something else.

"Well, what do you have to say?"

There was a long pause.

"Donna wasn't... wasn't like that..."

Doctor Kavanagh sighed. "Oh, for... I point out to you your numerous
psycho-sexual illnesses and offer a course of treatment and your first act is to
try to defend the slut who helped mould you into what you are. She is, at least
partly, to blame for this..."

"No, that's not..."

"If she was a man, if you had a succession of dysfunctonal encounters with
emotionally abusive and demanding men, if your already low self-esteem had been
lowered and weakened by men, then that would be entirely accepted. But because
you're some filthy lesbian slut-whore, I'm wrong.

"Well, Miss Slut, perhaps you can do better! You, with your half-completed...
no, not even half... with your hardly-even-started degree, perhaps you can do
better than me, a qualified psyhiatrist, an expert in the field of sexual
disorders. I give evidence at criminal trials, did you know that? I'm on the
books of some of the most reputable solicitors in the country as an expert!
You're just some stupid little girl just smart enough to know what a pathetic
bitch she is!

"Come on, tell me! Do better than me! I'm sure you learned a lot all that time
Donna kept you tied to your bed with your face in her groin!"

Silence.

Doctor Kavanagh had jumped up to her feet at some point during this, bending
over the table, her low cut blouse revealing an excellent view of her impressive
cleavage. She was flushed with clear anger, and her eyes were blazing.

Meg found, to her horror, warmth rising in her belly, and dampness forming in
her groin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

She had not taken the words in. There had been too many of them... so many...
and saying...

stupid little girl just smart enough to know what a pathetic bitch she is

you had no respect for yourself

some filthy lesbian slut-whore

passed over by the boys at school to the extent where the only one interested in
you is some worthless drug addict

vile, perverted acts

disgusting perverts like you

Meg began to cry, her head dropping.

"Oh, and now tears. A futile attempt to wring sympathy from me. Always a resort.
Every fucking time.

"If you want to remain some slut, that's your perogative. If you want to be
better, to not have to feel this way, then look at me and tell me that!"

Meg lifted her head, her eyes red and raw.

"Well?"

"I want to be better," she whispered.

"I didn't hear that."

"I want to be better."

"Well, good. About fucking time."

Doctor Kavanagh sat down, and pulled out another two painkillers. "Stupid,
fucking bitch," she muttered to herself. "My fucking head..."

She sat there for a moment, rubbing at her forehead before she looked up.
"There, that'll do for now.

"So, you want to be better. It won't be easy."

"I know." Meg squirmed awkwardly. She was aroused. Her body was burning. Dull at
the moment, but it would grow. Once it did...

She had never had an orgasm before that first night with Donna. Afterwards, she
had had hundreds. She had come to enjoy being aroused, being pleasure..

vile, perverted acts...

Doctor Kavanagh hated her, looked down upon her. She must know what Meg was
feeling now. She must know.

It was true. Meg was a pervert...

some filthy lesbian slut-whore

Doctor Kavanagh sniffed the air, frowning. "You will have to learn that arousal
is wrong. The hard work is in your mind, not your body. Saying that your body
makes you feel this way is just an excuse of a coward. If you want to be better,
we have to convince your mind."

She reached out to the Newton's cradle. Only, instead of playing with the silver
balls, she began to slowly and carefully unscrew them, pooling them in a small
crystal bowl that Meg had assumed was an ashtray.

"Get up and walk over to the desk."

Awkwardly, off balance, her arse still sore from Kara's rape, and the muscles in
her legs stinging from having been sat down so long, Meg managed it.

"Lean forward over the desk. More. More. God, how fucking stupid are you? Put
your face right up against the surface of the desk. Keep your legs straight.
Spread them apart. Oh, for... like this."

Doctor Kavanagh got up and moved around to behind Meg, pushing her head down
hard against the desk, hitting the side of her face onto the cold wooden
surface. She then forced Meg's legs apart.

"Don't dare let any of these fall out. Not one."

Meg stiffened. Her pussy was damp, and sticky with her arousal. Doctor Kavanagh
brushed the folds of her sex lightly, and she shuddered.

Then, one of the metal balls was slid carefully inside her. It was not cold, but
the feeling was strange. Meg gasped, and tried to move. She cried out as her
head was pushed back down.

"Stay there, slut!"

She remained there as the other four balls were slowly fed into her. She had
heard of ben wa balls but never tried them. The feeling was awkward, but not
uncomfortable. They clanked together inside her. She felt... full, almost
swollen.

No sooner had Doctor Kavanagh stepped back than one of the balls threatened to
slide free from her. Clamping her muscles together quickly, Meg held it inside,
but gasped out in pain.

She had no idea how long she remained there, bent over the desk, struggling to
hold the balls inside her. The strain on her muscles was immense. One slip, one
moment's relaxation, and they would fall free. She did not know what Doctor
Kavanagh would do to her if that happened, but she knew it would not be
pleasant.

The least she could expect was another scornful insult, and that was almost as
bad as a whipping (although not as bad as more electro-therapy from Mistress
Kara - she could not endure any more of that).

Just when she thought she could not take any more, she felt graceful,
long-nailed fingers touch her pussy, gently pushing the balls back in. Something
cold and leather was then placed over the groin, and pulled between her legs.

Doctor Kavanagh had been slow and careful with inserting the ben wa balls. She
was anything but when it came to forcing the dildo into Meg's arse. The poor
girl threw her head back in a shriek of sudden pain, but the doctor soon forced
her back down, slamming her head roughly into the desk. Reeling, her eyes
swimming, Meg was left to tremble in pain as the straps of the chastity belt
were fixed around her waist and legs, clipping on to the bottom of the
straitjacket.

"There. Stand up."

Meg did so. It was painful. Her arse burned, and every movement of her legs made
the pain worse. The dull ache that had come from Kara's rape had gone, replaced
by a burning penetration.

And the balls were moving about inside her, clacking together, causing shivers
of... something to run through her body.

"Arousal is wrong," Doctor Kavanagh repeated. "Certainly the way you have been
feeling it. You are now in pain, or you should be. You are also in arousal, or
again, you should be. I trust the juxtaposition is not lost on you.

"Nurse Tanaka is going to take you somewhere that will give you ample time to
think on what you are. The greatest breakthrough will happen in your own mind. I
am quite willing to leave you like that until you come to accept this.

"Now, do you have anything to say to me?"

Meg's head dropped.

"Thank you, Doctor Kavanagh."

Next: A Position of Therapy

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