Dr. Sondgaard looked at her watch. "All right. I have a free hour before Mr. Albright gets here. I can review those files some other day."
She pictures stepped into her private office, raincoat over one arm. She locked the door for privacy . "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said to the man who looked up from the couch. "I almost drowned waiting for a cab." She hung up the raincoat and umbrella , then smoothed out her modest brown suit. She kicked off her wet shoes pictures and stepped into a different pair, black flats like she pictures always wore.
Anyone could see that the man was in distress; it didn't take a psychologist to figure that pictures out. The first thing was to get him calmed down a little, Monica decided, work through the crisis, then look at the long-term situation . It didn't help that he had hardly said a word since he came in.
She kept her continence even . "What kind of power, Damien?" she asked gently.
He waved a pictures hand. "I performed a ritual. It's a very old, pre- Druidic rite. It was part of my research for my degree in anthropology. I did it during the planetary alignment a few weeks ago, when pictures the ancients believed cosmic forces were strongest. Did you know an alignment like that only happens every thousand years? I won't tell you the details of the ritual, but it involves sacrificing small animals and dancing naked around a stone circle under a full moon."
"Those thoughts are mostly pictures pretty harmless, right? They're momentary fantasies. A man sees a pretty girl on the street and he thinks, 'wow, nice ass . I wonder what she would look like bending over on a diving board.' A moment later he has forgotten all about it."
The man thought about it for a moment. "Do you have a coin?" he asked.
Damien looked at her , his expression blank. It occurred to Monica that in this position he could effortlessly look up her skirt to the tops of her stockings and even her high-cut lace panties, but she decided not to pictures do anything about it . Maybe a little tease would help bring him out of his withdrawal. She took a deep breath, feeling her round breasts pressing against her sheer silk blouse .
She smiled. "Well, you 're here now, so let's see if I can help you ." She stayed on her knees a tad longer than she needed to. It was fun to have a man looking at her tits .
After a moment she got to her feet and sat down in her big chair beside the desk. She crossed pictures her legs automatically, letting her foxy skirt slide high on her thighs. One dainty red sandal dangled off her toes. She knew she looked good.
"Let's consider, for pictures the sake of argument, that you really have some sort of extraordinary power. What makes you so certain that it will harm you? Can 't you learn to use it, test it out a little at a time, tame the beast before it devours you?"
"What do you mean?" He sounded interested.
She worked her puffy red lips pictures into a smile to match his, grateful that she had at last been able to do something for him . There was still a great mystery here, this so -called power, and what it was really doing (hypnotism? complex self -deception?) but that could wait until another session . Damien had made great progress.
Monica fought down a wave of hysteria. "Stop this . Stop -- Change me back." she demanded. Her voice was deep and soft as velvet.
Unexpectedly, the image of Damien's hard pictures-on sent a thrill of excitement through her. She set her jaw. She marched over to the desk, four-inch heels sinking into the plush carpet , and jabbed the emergency button on the intercom. Her fingernail was flawlessly polished.
"You see , I told pictures you the temptation would be too much. My graduate supervisor was curious. She wanted to see how the power worked. She let the acid out. Once I started using the pictures power, once I realized just how much fucking fun it is , I simply couldn 't stop."
A pictures new chill went down Monica's spine. "What -- what did you do to your supervisor?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Thank you, sir ," Monica said sweetly .
Monica twirled a strand of lustrous brown hair around one finger. "Uhm, usually two pounds or so, but five pounds if I'd just come back from gym class."
"Inspection? Sir?"
"Ooooh, George, you randy man ," Monica chided, letting him press her body against his. "Are you walking around pictures with a big hard for me again?" She was in her red and white candy-striper's uniform, her enormous breasts spilling out the top , the skirt far shorter than anyone could possibly get away with, yet somehow she did. "What about your wife?"
The man was still kissing her wildly. "She's... not here," he replied, desperate. "It's just you and me. Please, Monica, darling, let me love you. I'm going insane." His groping hands found pictures their way under her racy uniform .
"Why, George, I'm surprised at you. Just because I accepted your gifts and sucked you off a couple of times doesn't mean I'll hop into bed with you ." She nibbled on his ear saucily. "Even though I find you very handsome, and I'm sure your big cock would feel sooo good deep inside me." In her platform-heeled sandals she was as tall as him .
George made an incoherent sound from between Monica pictures's melons. His scrubs slipped down around his ankles.
"Oh sweet heaven how could I have forgotten that," Monica gasped, her face flushed with heat . She collapsed into her chair , breathing hard. She ran one hand over her stupendous chest, feeling the hard, sensitive nipples. Acid. There was acid everywhere now, flooding her mind, eating away at her resolve, dissolving her conscience into smoke.
"Damien, I...uh, yes, I believe you may be right , after all. You have as much right to use your ability to find happiness as anyone else and pictures... and... oh screw it I'm so fucking horny." Throwing decorum to the wind, the eye -popping psychologist jammed one hand down under her silk panties while the other explored the immense, warm spheres of her tits . "Damien, you superhuman monster, please, let's fuck . God I need your cock so bad."
The intercom pictures buzzed. Monica flicked the talk button with the heel of one boot. "Doctor," came Kerri's voice. "Your one o'clock just cancelled."
She massaged her melons for a few minutes pictures, then pictures decided to move on to the main event. She still had her feet on the desk . Monica 's miniskirt was also tight, but a quick flick of another zipper pictures revealed the pink jewel that some women covered with panties . Her crotch pictures-high boots negated the need to wear stockings. Monica turned the gold vibrator up a notch and slowly slipped it in .
"Don't leave, Kerri," she said pictures. Kerri gulped but did not move. She was still staring at the junction of Monica 's thighs.
She started planning some changes for her little receptionist. First thing was to get her into some properly revealing clothes. Something to distract the patients, to make Monica's job of separating them from their money a little easier. Fishnet stockings pictures and spike-heeled platform sandals would be her trademark. No underwear. Kerri was living with her boyfriend, but Monica would tell her to dump him. She wasn 't pictures about to share that tongue with anybody.
Dr. Sondgaard looked at her watch. "All right. I have a free hour before Mr. Albright gets here. I can review those files some other day."
She pictures stepped into her private office, raincoat over one arm. She locked the door for privacy . "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said to the man who looked up from the couch. "I almost drowned waiting for a cab." She hung up the raincoat and umbrella , then smoothed out her modest brown suit. She kicked off her wet shoes pictures and stepped into a different pair, black flats like she pictures always wore.
Anyone could see that the man was in distress; it didn't take a psychologist to figure that pictures out. The first thing was to get him calmed down a little, Monica decided, work through the crisis, then look at the long-term situation . It didn't help that he had hardly said a word since he came in.
She kept her continence even . "What kind of power, Damien?" she asked gently.
Damien looked at her , his expression blank. It occurred to Monica that in this position he could effortlessly look up her skirt to the tops of her stockings and even her high-cut lace panties, but she decided not to pictures do anything about it . Maybe a little tease would help bring him out of his withdrawal. She took a deep breath, feeling her round breasts pressing against her sheer silk blouse .
She smiled. "Well, you 're here now, so let's see if I can help you ." She stayed on her knees a tad longer than she needed to. It was fun to have a man looking at her tits .
She worked her puffy red lips pictures into a smile to match his, grateful that she had at last been able to do something for him . There was still a great mystery here, this so -called power, and what it was really doing (hypnotism? complex self -deception?) but that could wait until another session . Damien had made great progress.
Monica fought down a wave of hysteria. "Stop this . Stop -- Change me back." she demanded. Her voice was deep and soft as velvet.
Unexpectedly, the image of Damien's hard pictures-on sent a thrill of excitement through her. She set her jaw. She marched over to the desk, four-inch heels sinking into the plush carpet , and jabbed the emergency button on the intercom. Her fingernail was flawlessly polished.
"You see , I told pictures you the temptation would be too much. My graduate supervisor was curious. She wanted to see how the power worked. She let the acid out. Once I started using the pictures power, once I realized just how much fucking fun it is , I simply couldn 't stop."
A pictures new chill went down Monica's spine. "What -- what did you do to your supervisor?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Thank you, sir ," Monica said sweetly .
"Ooooh, George, you randy man ," Monica chided, letting him press her body against his. "Are you walking around pictures with a big hard for me again?" She was in her red and white candy-striper's uniform, her enormous breasts spilling out the top , the skirt far shorter than anyone could possibly get away with, yet somehow she did. "What about your wife?"
The man was still kissing her wildly. "She's... not here," he replied, desperate. "It's just you and me. Please, Monica, darling, let me love you. I'm going insane." His groping hands found pictures their way under her racy uniform .
George made an incoherent sound from between Monica pictures's melons. His scrubs slipped down around his ankles.
She massaged her melons for a few minutes pictures, then pictures decided to move on to the main event. She still had her feet on the desk . Monica 's miniskirt was also tight, but a quick flick of another zipper pictures revealed the pink jewel that some women covered with panties . Her crotch pictures-high boots negated the need to wear stockings. Monica turned the gold vibrator up a notch and slowly slipped it in .
