Continuing the
ruthless caning, Larry grinned as the cunny-wet candle shot out of
the girl's spasming cunt and lay between her twitching thighs. "Do
you feel comfortable with your naked body?" he panted, striking her
scarlet buttocks again.
"Of course I
don't! Please, stop now!"
"Another
half-dozen or so should do it!"
The pink weals
fanning out across her twitching buttocks as the cane repeatedly
struck her bottom-orbs, Jessica's naked body shook violently. Her
vaginal juices decanting, pooling on the couch, she cried out
again, begging for mercy as Monica Moodie hammered on the door.
"What's going
on in there? Doctor Lickman! Doctor Lickman, what are you doing?
Who's that screaming?"
"Nothing to
concern yourself with, Monica!" the demonic therapist called,
discarding the cane and hurriedly releasing his victim. "Go and do
some filing!"
"Who's in
there with you?"
"Er... no one, only me!"
And the
Devil!
Bursting into
the room, Monica gasped, gazing at Jessica's burning buttocks, her
shaved pussy lips, as the girl rolled onto her back. "What have you
done to her?" she cried, horrified by the lewd scene. "What have
you done to the poor girl?"
"I thought the
door was locked!" Brigit gasped. "I'm sorry, I..."
"Everything's
in order, Monica," Larry grinned sheepishly, helping Jessica off
the couch. "How was your dental appointment? No extractions, I
hope. Your tongue's obviously still in working order."
"This is most
unethical!" Monica bellowed. "I didn't know that you had an
examination room! My God, you've tortured the poor girl!"
"Tortured her?
You weren't tortured were you, Jessica?" Larry asked the whimpering
girl. "Do you feel tortured?"
"You caned me!
You tied me down and thrashed me!"
"That wasn't
torture, it was Professor Flagellant's treatment. I saved you from
lockcunt, from vaginal rigor mortis!"
"Vaginal
what?" Monica boomed, glaring at Larry as Brigit slipped unnoticed
from the room.
"Rigor mortis
of the vagina," Larry enlightened the shocked woman.
"There's no
such thing!"
"As you're not
a qualified doctor, Monica, I wouldn't expect you to understand the
intricate workings of the vagina and its associated muscles."
"I understand
only too well!"
"Are you a
woman of great vaginal understanding?"
"Yes, I
am!"
"Then I fail
to see why you don't understand. Now, if you'll leave my client to
dress, I'll..."
"My buttocks
are stinging like hell!" Jessica sobbed, clutching her burning
bottom-globes. "And my pubic hair's fallen out!"
"I'll apply a
little cooling cream to your bottom," Larry smiled. "Would you mind
leaving us, Monica? I do believe the phone's ringing."
"This isn't
the last you'll hear of this!" the woman hissed through gritted
teeth as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut.
"She can be so
awkward at times! Now, Jessica, get onto the couch and I'll apply
some cream to your bottom," Larry soothed, gazing at the girl's
succulent inner labia emerging between her hairless cunt lips.
"Why did you
thrash me?" she whimpered as Larry tended her crimsoned orbs.
"I knew the
caning would hurt you, but it had to be done. Had your vaginal
muscles locked, I'd have been forced to perform a cuntectomy, and
you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"A cuntectomy?
What's that?"
"Removal of
your vagina."
"I've never
heard of..."
"Would you be
so good as to tell Monica that you consented to the treatment?" he
asked, massaging lotion into the girl's scarlet buttocks, her
yawning anal crease. "She seems to think that I forced you to
endure the punishment... the treatment."
"Yes, yes all
right. I didn't realize that the treatment was saving me
from..."
"I quite
understand, Jessica. There, that should do it - get dressed now and
have a word with Monica on your way out."
"Thank you,
doctor," the abused girl smiled, slipping off the couch. "I'll see
you next week, as usual."
"Yes, until
next week. I hope the stinging wears off soon."
"Will you be
administering Professor Flagellant's treatment again?" she asked as
she tugged her dress over her head and veiled her technicoloured
body.
"I might have
to - it all depends, Jessica. I'll see you next week."
"All right
then. Goodbye," she said resignedly as she hobbled off to make
Larry's feeble excuses at reception.
Installed at
his office desk, Larry awaited Monica's inevitable arrival - her
screamed threats and accusations. If only Brigit had locked the
door. He'd enjoyed the caning, taken great pleasure from luring his
clients into the bondage room and sexually abusing their naked
bodies. But now Monica knew of his depraved escapades, the cat was
out of the bag - the pussy out of the knickers!
"Ah, Monica!"
he grinned as the sex-sleuth flung the door open and stormed into
the room. "When's the next client due to arrive?"
"Next victim,
don't you mean?" she hissed, her clenched fists on her hips.
"Victim,
Monica? I'm sorry, I'm not with you. Are you feeling ill? Perhaps
you require a little light refreshment? Have you eaten today?"
"You caned
that poor defenceless girl!"
"Roughage,
Monica - are you having enough roughage?"
"I could hear
her screaming from outside the building!"
"Not too much
roughage, mind. We don't want your colon clogged up, do we? I'd
hate to have to give you colonic irrigation with a garden
hose!"
"Don't be so
vile! I'm going to report you for tying that poor girl up and
caning her!"
"Monica, you
know nothing about the workings of the human body. The muscles
within the pelvic region tend to seize up and... What's that
smell?"
"On her way
out, she told me that she'd consented to the caning. You put her up
to that, didn't you? No doubt you'd threatened the poor girl with
murder, with a gruesome death!"
"Of course I didn't threaten her!"
You'll meet with a gruesome death in a
minute
. "Listen, Monica, in this
business..."
"Why did you
remove her pubic hair?"
So I could see her cunt
. "I didn't.
Some women prefer to have their vulval flesh free of vulval hair.
It's Jessica's choice and it has nothing to do with us - it's her
prerogative. Has it stopped raining?"
"I've just
been into that room again. I discovered a towel covered with cream
and pubic hair!"
"Do you shave
your vulval flesh, Monica?"
"My God, you
disgust me! There are ropes tied to the legs of the examination
couch, there's a wet candle on the couch and a cane the floor. That
explains Brigit's buttocks, the weals!"
"What did you
have for breakfast, Monica?"
"What did I...
I'm going to report..."
"Someone's
ringing the reception bell, Monica. Let's put this behind us and
get on with our work, shall we? Has Lily returned yet?"
"I'm not
putting anything behind me!"
I'll put the fucking cane behind you in a
minute
.
"You're
running a sexual torture chamber, and I'm not going to..."
"Monica, I
wouldn't want to have to dismiss you for insubordination!"
"You can't
dismiss me! I'd go straight to the newspapers and expose you! What
have you got to say about that, Doctor Lickman?"
"How old are you, Monica?"
Eighty?
Ninety?
"Forty,
why?"
"Ah, forty.
Yes, that explains it."
"Explains
what?"
"Your
irrational behaviour, your peculiar mental state, your derangement.
Obviously, you're near-menopausal. I do wish the weather would
brighten up, don't you? The cereal crop will suffer and there'll be
a roughage shortage."
"I am not
near-menopausal!"
Post-menopausal, then
. "The bell's
still ringing, Monica. Send the client in and then you might as
well take your lunch break. Don't get yourself run over when you
come staggering back from the pub, will you?"
"I've never
been into a public house in my life!"
"You have a
history of heavy drinking, Monica! Take your broken leg,
you..."
"I've been to
the health authority and told them about this place, the things you
get up to! You have a bottle of whisky in your desk drawer, no
doubt for plying the innocent clients. I'm going to tell Mr
Venereal about..."
"Yes, I was
talking to Mr Venereal on the phone earlier. He suggested that I
refer you to a psychiatrist at my earliest convenience."
"Of course he
didn't!"
"How are your
breasts these days, Monica? Still resemble two shrivelled-up empty
leather bags, do they?"
"You're a
disgusting..."
"It can't be
easy, sleeping on your back with your hairy nipples in your hairy
armpits."
"I've a good
mind to..."
"Sleep on your
side? Yes, that's one way round the problem. There'll be room for
your tits to lie next to you now that your husband's gone. A little
light caning would firm your breasts up. For a small fee, I
could..."
"Right, I'm
going straight to the..."
"A very good
friend of mine is a psychiatrist and he'd be only too willing to
certify you insane, Monica!"
"Don't be
ridiculous!"
"Your husband
rang me this morning. He said that he'd be more than willing to
testify as to your dreadful mental instability. By the way, he told
me that he's never been happier since he left you. Apparently, he's
taken up with an eighteen-year-old girl."
"He can't do
that!"
"He's done it!
Beautiful, he reckons - sex-crazed, with hard tits and long
nipples. Heavily into the kinky stuff, she is. Bondage, caning,
sixty-nine..."
"I'll divorce
him for adultery!"
"You threw him
out!"
"He's still my
husband!"
"Null and
void, that's what your marriage is now. Send the next client in,
please."
Watching his
distraught receptionist leave the room, Larry sighed. What the
health authority would do if they discovered that he had no
qualifications at all, he dreaded to think! And if Gina Cology were
to discover his antics...
Deciding to
take Monica prisoner, keep her tied up in the bondage room and
defile her plump body, he smiled as an attractive woman in her
mid-thirties timidly tapped on the open door and stepped gingerly
into the room.
"Ah, Jane!" he
greeted her as she closed the door. "Please, take a seat."
"Thank you,
doctor," the woman replied, wringing her hands nervously as she sat
down.
"So, how's the
relationship?" Larry asked, eyeing her open blouse, her
cleavage.
"In
ruination!" she sighed despondently.
"Oh, dear! The
last time we met you said that things were improving."
"Yes, they
were. But Lesbia and I are incompatible, I'm afraid."
"Incompatible?
Mmm, that might present a problem."
"Might? It has
presented a problem!"
"Tell me,
Jane, this incompatibility... how was your childhood?"
"Harrowing! My
father left my mother for another man when I was twelve."
"For another
man? Well, that explains your incompatibility. You were sexually
confused by your father's unorthodox behaviour. Did it drive you to
rampant masturbation?"
"Yes, I'm
afraid it did."
"There's no
need to be afraid, Jane. It's a classic situation - in my line of
work, I come across it time and time again. Father leaves mother
and daughter for another man - daughter resorts to excessive
masturbation, desperately seeking comfort from her orgasms -
mother... how did this terrible event affect your mother?"
"She took to
caning me every night."
"I thought as
much. She was taking her revenge out on you, venting her hatred for
her husband on you. How did you feel about your breasts?"
"I wrapped
bandages around my body to flatten them. I was ashamed of
them."
"A
subconscious fear of growing up, I've seen it before. You see, all
this coincides with your father's coming out. How did you feel
about your pubic hair?"
"I shaved it
off."
"And you still
do?"
"Yes - how did
you know?"
"Experience,
Jane - years of vulval experience. Did you sexually abuse your
body?"
"Yes, I... I
used to stick things up my bottom. I... I still do. Are you
shocked?"
"No, no not at
all. I don't shock easily. Sticking things up your bottom was your
way of coming to terms with your father's homosexuality. What sort
of things did you stick up your bottom?"
"I started
with toothbrush handles and progressed to... I now use well-greased
candles - big ones."
"You're
subconsciously seeking refuge in religion."
"No, I don't
think I am."
"Yes, you are.
The candles represent the church, you see. Has there been a death
in the family?"
"Yes, my
cat."
"I thought as
much. Light a candle for your cat. Not while it's in your bottom,
though, it would be perilous. The candle, I mean - don't try and
put the cat into your bottom and set fire to it. Apart from
anything else, I believe it's illegal. Is there a history of death
in your family?"
"Yes, there
is. All my relations over ninety years old are dead."
"Good grief,
you poor child."
"I've learned
to live with it."
"How terrible!
So, you have no ancestors at all?"
"None."
"You poor,
sad, neglected, ancestorless girl. Going back to your present
relationship, the incompatibility - in which areas are you
incompatible?"