DOMestic Bdsm and Female Domination

A week had gone by and it had been hell, and my work had nothing
to do with it. I had to make a decision as to whether or not to
continue seeing her as a doctor in spite of finding her
hypnotically appealing or to move on and find a psychiatrist who
did not affect me that way. She had indicated she might not even
want to continue seeing me as a patient so I decided to keep the
appointment to see what her decision would be.

"You can go in now," came the voice of the pretty young woman
who may or may not have been wearing pantyhose and I cursed
myself again for thinking the thought.

I entered her office not knowing what to expect. I did not
expect what I saw. It was the same as last week except that the
chair she had been sitting in was now enclosed by a folding
screen. I heard her voice from behind the screen.

"Sit down Tracy," she said, "and tell me how you like my idea of
the screen."

I slowly sat in the chair opposite the screen. I was silent.

"Tracy?" she finally called.

"Yes, I'm here.."

"Well?" she asked.

I stared at the screen and said, "I am going to be brutally
honest doctor., which I have seldom been about this part of my
life and tell you that I feel like I feel an intense hatred for
you. But please do not take it personally. Until this moment I
thought I had spent the week trying to decide if I should
continue seeing you as a doctor who could help me with my
problem, when the reality was I had spent the week anticipating
walking into this office hoping to see my fantasy woman,
standing there so unbelievable sexy, dressed in that beautiful
black suit, your hair pulled back sleekly, sheer black stockings
and black heels, exuding an air of confidence and.....:" I
hesitated.....then said slowly, "and knowingly or unknowingly,
you suddenly took it all away, just like all the others I tried
to worship."

Her voice came from behind the screen, "and when I put up the
screen I said no to you, just like all the women in your life
have said. I became another disappointment."

"No, they were not disappointments, I was a failure. I failed
with unrealistic expectations. To a varying degree all the women
in my life loved me or liked me and tried to be what I wanted
them to be. I was always honest with them about my unusual needs
but I finally realized I was the problem. Like Pogo used to say,
'we have met the enemy and they is us'. I now realize I am my
enemy and I want to change that. Your screen jolted me into
realizing how unknowingly consumed I am with my unrealistic
expectations. I did not even realize how much I had been looking
forward to seeing you again... for all the wrong reasons. I had
fed into my desire to see you as a fantasy woman under the guise
of seeing you as a doctor."

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"Yes," I murmured.

"Take away the screen and put it against the wall."

I rose and folded the screen, looking down at her. She was
dressed exactly the same as last week. I involuntarily let out a
sigh of relief which she heard.

"Is it that important to you?" she asked in response to my
sigh...

"Yes," I said putting down the screen and returning to stand
before her.

"Tell me what you are feeling standing before me."

"I want to be on my knees kissing your feet and shoes,
worshipping you."

"And that is the feeling you wish to change?"

"Yes," I murmured, embarrassment rising in me, hating the
confession.

"Sit down and tell me why?"

I sat. "From the time I was five years old I have obsessed with
stockings, garter belts, panties, pantyhose, slips, all
lingerie, all those sexy, silky, wonderful secret hidden things
that women wear, and I have had a need to worship and be
dominated, both physically and verbally, by the women who wear
them. I always believed that since I had those feelings there
would be women who desired men like me . And after fifty years
of frustration in looking for such a woman I have concluded that
such women do not exist, or if they do they are in such a small
number that I would never find one. I don't blame women, or hold
them responsible for not matching my unrealistic fantasies."

She uncrossed and crossed her legs with a swish of nylon and my
eyes darted down to watch. I quickly looked up to find a smile
on her face. "I see that excites you. Tell me about the women
who did that to you."

I licked my dry lips. "I married what I thought were a couple of
them and have had numerous relationships with others, including
a professional dominatrix and none of them have come close to
what I needed or wanted. In many cases they tried but they did
not have my intensity. I don't blame any one of them, even those
who lied to me about it for their various reasons. I realize it
was always my problem and my unrealistic expectations. I don't
believe a woman exists who wants what I want, and I understand
it now. Women don't want men who desire to be forced to wear
their lingerie, be their slaves, be whipped, make them maids and
all the other domination fantasies you can read about. And
that's as it should be. The women in my life tried but they were
not able to match my sexual desires. It took me a long time to
realize it was all my problem but I now accept it. You asked me
what I want and I want freedom from wanting something that does
not exist. I want to get rid of, hide, change, eliminate, or
even exorcise all those submissive cross dressing feelings I
have. I can no longer take the frustration of never being able
to catch the girl on the Grecian Urn. Like that poor young boy,
the object of my desire is forever out of reach for me. Help me
stop thinking I can find her and let me live out my life without
that gnawing hunger that I can't satisfy."

I paused and looked at her. "And now I am exhausted, I'm
sweating, and I'm stressed out from exposing myself and all my
secrets to a woman in way I never thought I would. I'm tired of
feeling like a leper, and I want out of the colony and I am
resigned to it. I know it's asking a lot but can you help me?"

She smiled and I stared longingly at her, that skirt riding up
her nylon clad thighs, those sheer black stockings, the shoes,
the powerful way she sat. I resisted an urge to fall to my knees
and worship her by kissing her feet and legs. And then she said,
"No, but I can help you get control of your life."

"But if you can't help me get rid of those feelings, how?"

"Let me worry about that, but for now I want you to trust me.
Will you do that. Will you trust me to only have your best
interests in mind, and let me do what is necessary to put you in
the best place possible?"

"Of course, I opened up so much to you that I now feel I have no
choice. And I do trust you."

"And I want to trust you," she said, "but I am having a small
problem. You came to me looking for a matronly woman
psychiatrist and you found me and were surprised. And that
surprised me as I am well known in this city among doctors from
whom I get referrals and also among those people who have
conflicted sexual lives.. I have a rather radical practice and I
am out as being gay. The type of practice I have is no secret
around here but you were not aware of me. Why?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't been entirely honest. I'm not from here. I
live in Carter, about an hour from here, and I got your name
from a doctor friend of mine. I was with a group of people and I
managed to steer the conversation to women doctors who treat
sexual problems. Your name came up among other local doctors and
that was it. It's just my paranoia working. I can't stand the
thought of anyone where I live finding out about my problem.
Disclosure would ruin me socially and in business."

She just nodded and appeared to file it away for future
reference. "I understand, and now it's out of the way. Let's
start by your telling me what it is you would really like from a
woman. In your view what would be a perfect relationship, what
would that idealized woman be like and what would she do that
would be perfect for you. Tell me about it. I want specifics,
and I want descriptive details, all of the dirty things."

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. "I'm sorry," I began and
then started to perspire. "I... I... don't think I can go
there. It's too hard to imagine telling you what....."

And then her hand shot out and slapped my face so hard I had to
struggle not to fall out of the chair. It stung so it brought
tears to my eyes.

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped. "You said you trusted me and now
you will go where we have to go to get to the bottom of this. I
am not going to waste my time avoiding your pain, in fact I am
going to make sure those things come out that are going to cause
you great pain."

She stood up suddenly and towering over me quickly slapped me
again just as hard as the first time. My head snapped back and
before I could even think of what happened her arm came down and
delivered a backhand that shook my teeth and rattled my head. I
would have run but she clasped my knees between hers and leaning
her weight on me held my wrists to the arms of the chair with
her hands.

She put her face a foot from mine and spat words at me. "You
will talk, you will tell it all, all those things you think are
so wrong and dirty and are so ashamed of that they are
unspeakable.Guess what, you are going to speak them my friend,
all of them, every nasty ugly thing that goes through your mind
that embarrasses you to death. I do not care how hard it is for
you to admit things. I will get to the bottom of who you are. I
told you I have a reputation for being unorthodox and you are
now seeing a little of it. Push me and you will see parts that
will scare you. Now, do I make myself clear!?"