DOMestic Bdsm and Female Domination

"She can see you now." She meant me as I was the only one in the
waiting room.

As I turned she nodded to the only door. What I saw as I entered
the doctor's office shocked me and it must have shown on my
face. She was standing in front of her desk, mid thirties,
beautiful, a hint of makeup, blond hair pulled back into a pony-
tail, wearing a perfectly tailored black business suit, her
skirt mid thigh on a perfect body, severe white blouse, sheer
black stockings and shiny black pumps with at least a four inch
heel. Her legs went on forever.

"Oh," she said softly, an amused look on her face. "I don't ever
recall getting such a reaction from a patient on a first visit.
We have to talk about that right off," she said walking to me
and reaching out a hand to shake. "I'm Dr. Graystone and I take
it you are Tracy Cole."

I blushed and took her hand and was sure she could see how
nervous she had made me. I mumbled a hello as she walked to a
chair in front of her desk and sat down. She crossed her nylon
clad legs with a swish that made me weak and her skirt rode
higher on her stockinged thighs.

She nodded to the chair opposite her indicating I should sit. "I
don't like sitting behind my desk," she said, "it puts a barrier
between us. I find it easier to talk to my patients this way."

I sat, afraid to look at her, knowing I appeared like a fool.

She smiled, warm, open, disarming, and I was in love with her
immediately. She was beautiful.

"Ok, out with it, why the look when you saw me. I know people
are normally afraid of doctors for fear of bad news but I'm a
psychiatrist and this should not hurt, at least not in the usual
way."

I felt stupid, like I should have never made the appointment. "I
think I made a mistake in coming here," I said.

"Seeing me made you feel that way?" she asked with a smile.

I merely nodded.

"That's fascinating, even for a psychiatrist. Tell me why."

I took a deep breath. "I'm 54 years old. Suppose I come to you
and my problem is that I have been a drug addict since I've been
a teenager and I want you to help me quit my addiction." She
nodded and said nothing. "Also suppose, for absolutely no reason
except for my illustration, that when I walked into this office
you were smoking a joint and had laid out on your desk an
arrangement of every drug known, and you said to me, go ahead,
help yourself."

She gave me a quizzical look and I continued, "Well, I am not a
drug addict, but I have what I consider a worse addiction, and
looking at you is like a drug addict looking at a desk full of
drugs."

"A sex addict?" she said.

"Not really, kind of. The problem is I hate myself for it and I
can't even face talking about it and had a hard time even making
this appointment."

"Well, since you are here why not give it a try, and let's see
what happens, maybe I can help."

The situation had thrown me and I began to sputter and talk very
fast and rambling trying to explain myself.

"Of course, and I'm prepared to face this thing. I purposely
picked a woman doctor because I felt I would be able to talk to
her whereas there is no way I could discuss my problem with a
man. And please don't take offense, but you are the last person
I should be seeing to try and help me with my situation. The
fact is I'm a cross dresser and a submissive as in S&M and B&D,
also with a pantyhose and lingerie fetish so you can see why I
would have difficulty talking about it with a man. When I made
this appointment I was expecting a woman psychiatrist to be 60
years old, overweight, matronly, no makeup, hair in a bun, skirt
to her ankles, Birkenstocks, horn rim glasses, you know the
stereotype which is my fault and I apologize for it and instead
I walk in and you are standing there. I felt I could be able to
talk to a scholarly woman who I assumed would look like a
grandmother. I know it's not your fault but that's not you. In
fact you are the opposite of what I was expecting and are more
like a perfect fantasy woman. I mean you have the look of all
the mistresses I have dreams about. And that just confuses me
and does not allow me to act in a normal manner. To me you are
like a roomful of drugs to an addict. I know you don't mean to
affect me that way but a certain type of woman, the way she
looks and dresses causes me to get weak in the knees and
submissive feelings wash over me."

"And I am that type of woman," she said.

"No, I don't mean anything, I don't know you, it just the way
you look and dress and you have a sense of authority, being a
psychiatrist and all...." I paused, "I'm very nervous and I feel
like I am making a fool of myself. I'm sorry. I think I should
just leave. I'll pay for the appointment," I said standing.

She just sat there, a slight smile on her face and I stood in
front of her feeling kind of helpless, not knowing what to do.

"I completely understand and please don't be nervous, it's ok.
You made a natural assumption. Why don't you sit down for a
minute, I want to talk to you just for a second then you can go
if you like."

I hesitated a moment, then tentatively sat on the edge of the
chair.

"You're not comfortable are you."

"I'm ok..."

"No, I can see it. Tell you what just for a second, why don't
you kneel in front of me, go ahead, it's ok, you'll feel more
natural, go ahead, get on your knees. I want you to."

"It's alright, I...."

She became stern, "I want you to get on your knees."

I bowed my head and my heart began pounding. I slid off the
chair to my knees, my face inches from her legs encased in those
delicious black pantyhose.

"You feel better don't you, more natural isn't it. Are you Ok?"
she said.

"Yes," I said in a whisper, "I am, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's ok, I understand. What I want to say is
that I think I can help you in spite of the way you feel. We can
work through that and I would like a chance to see if we could
find some success no matter what it is. I know you feel alone
and isolated and that no one understands you. I do and I'll tell
you why. I'm a lesbian, gay, and I've experienced a lot of the
things that you have. That's why I think we can work together to
help you. I want you to think about it for a week. I'll keep the
time open for you and I would like you to return. But if you
feel I can't help I'll understand. Come back next week if you
want to try it."

I slowly rose to my feet, embarrassed. I started for the door
then turned to her and said, "I wish you hadn't done that."

She didn't move from the chair. "Why?"

"It made feel vulnerable, weak."

"Is that what I did?"

I was going to answer but hesitated and was quiet. I watched as
she began running her hand along her nylon clad thigh.

"That's right," she said after a moment. "I made no decision for
you. You reacted, you made the decision. It was totally your
choice to get down on your knees before me. And I think I know
why, that's the reason I would like you to return. I think I can
help you, but you think about it for a week, and I will too. It
may be that I will decide that if you do come back I will not
want to treat you and if that is the case I will refer you to
the old matronly woman you thought I was. We both have some
thinking to do but I want you to remember that I understand and
I am here for you no matter what we decide."

The following week was pure hell.