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From: Angelique Rich <angelique.rich@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Nymphomaniac - chapter 3 (m/teen)
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Date: Fri, 04 Mar 2011 08:10:04 -0500
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Nymphomaniac Chapter 3

My finger touches the door bell. I hesitate as I read the sign above
the button. "Dr. Isabelle Jenkins" it says and below, in fine,
cursive, feminine print "Psychiatrist". I'm in therapy with her for a
couple of weeks now. I so hope that she will be the one able to help
me, because I really need help as I loose control more and more.

I am Judy and I am a nymphomaniac.

It is now ten days since my last visit and a week since I have been
raped in the park, just a few hundred yards from my apartment. I
decided not to tell her about it, but then I also know that she will,
like in the previous sessions, hypnotize me and I'm afraid I will talk
about it then. I never remember what I say when she puts me under and
she never tells me. I am afraid, she will end the sessions like my
previous psychiatrist did. But then she is always smiling friendly
when I leave my trance, telling me that we make progress and I will be
fine.

And then I press the button, accepting I need her help and a part of
me also wanting to enter and tell her... what ever it will be I will
disclose this time. Even if it is admitting that my rapist gave me one
of the most intense orgasms of my life as he chocked me to
unconsciousness.

The door opens with a buzzing sound and I enter. She waits for me in
the room where we will have the session, sitting in a chair next to
the couch. She is in her early forties, slightly chubby with amber
hair that is always tied into a pony tail. She smiles at me and I sit
down on the couch. We have a talk, it is just smalltalk but it helps
me to relax and calm down. Then she smiles at me and asks if I'm
ready. I slowly nod, feeling suddenly nervous again as I lay back on
the couch.

I don't know how hypnosis works but I think she somehow conditioned me
to go under when she swing this golden ring at the end of a thin chain
in front of my eyes and uses certain words. She smiles at me as she
uncoils the thin chain and lifts the ring into my view. It's a warm
smile, a reassuring smile and I watch it swing, the sunlight shimmers
on its surface and her voice makes me feel warm and relaxed. It is all
well and I think I smile as I follow the ring to this warm place
deeply within me.

-o-

"So your dad beat your mom when he was drunk. Did he ever beat you
too?"

The woman on the couch nods and tenses but doesn't answer.

"It is OK Judy. I understand if you don't want to go there."

The woman relaxes and then smiles as a hand touches her cheek and
caresses it, calming her as the older woman reassures her in a warm
voice that everything will be ok.

"Was there a place where you could go and feel safe? Where you could
feel happy?"

The woman doesn't answer for a few seconds but then a smile forms on
her face.

"It is good you had such a place Judy. What was this place like?"

"Uncle Phil's place. I really liked him. He alway made me feel so ...
special."

The psychiatrist watches the woman, sensing that there is more and
gently deepens the trance, telling the woman on the couch to relax and
go back to this place where she felt so safe and special.

"Tell me about that first time Uncle Phil made you feel so special.
You can talk about it, it is ok. You want to tell me about Phil, don't
you Judy?"

"I was at his his place after dad beat mom so badly she had to go to
the hospital and dad was in detention while awaiting trial. It storms
and I'm in my bed. I am scared, I always am during thunderstorms."

The woman's voice has changed, it is now the voice of a frightened
girl as she goes back to that night.

-o-

The crashing crack of thunder hits me almost the same instant as the
blinding white light fills my room and I scream out. I'm in my bed,
trembling in horror as the thunderstorm approaches the house until I
know it is right upon me and a lightning bolt will hit the house and
kill me and my uncle. The next lightning strikes, followed by an
immediate, deafening thunder and I run, crying and trembling, to my
uncle's room as if I would be a little child.

The next flash lightens his room and I run to his bed and press myself
against him, clinging to him as if his sheer presence could save me.
And after a while he hugs me back and I hear his warm voice telling me
that it is ok and that the thunderstorm won't harm us. His strong arms
hold me and I feel the warmth of his body through the thin T-shirt I
am wearing, a warmth and strength that makes me feel secure and at
ease.

The thunder is moving and a hot wave of embarrassment and shame makes
my face burn as I realize my hands and body are clinging to naked
skin. He is caressing my back as I lay on his his chest, my face
buried in his shoulder, the wetness of my tears on our skin. And with
the thunder moving away, I hear his words change. He no longer tells
me that the thunderstorm won't harm me.

I feel his hand move down my body to the soft shape of my ass as he
tells me how special I am to him. I feel tears wet my face and his
shoulder again, tears of happiness and relief as he tells me he will
never allow anybody to harm me. My hands feel the strength of his arm
and as he tells me he loves me, my hand squeezes his arm. I move to
hug him tighter and to tell him how thankful I am when I feel it.

Touching my hip. Warm. Hard. Slightly twitching as it feels the warmth
of my skin. And I tense. I know what it is and I know I'm not supposed
to feel it, as much as I am not supposed to be on his naked body with
his right hand now caressing the warm skin of my ass. I know I should
at least move away, if not leave his room, but a little voice tells me
that I will then no longer be special to him and I'm so afraid to
loose the warmth and safety I just found.

I feel his left arm, the strong arm I just squeezed move and I hear
his breathing. Deep breathing, the sound when he exhales almost a moan
and I listen to him telling me how beautiful I am, how much I am
turning into a young woman and that he will always protect and take
care of me.

I feel his left hand move on his cock and brush the skin of my hip as
his other hand now squeezes the globes of my ass. The T-shirt is no
longer between his hand and my skin and fingers move into the valley,
almost touching places only I have touched so far in the darkness of
my room. The voices are battling, one screaming to run and the other
telling me to listen to him, as he is only telling me the truth and
will give me the love I never felt at home. And as the screaming voice
is getting fainter and weaker, my hand is moving down his arm until it
rests on the hand that strokes the symbol of his love and affection.

And he takes my hand and places it on it, making me feel his love.
Warm. Veiny. And despite its hardness almost velvet to the touch. My
hand closes, holding it and I hear him gasp and groan as my fingers
squeeze the hard pulsing shaft. His hand on mine trembles and my heart
skips a beat as I feel that I really am special to him. His hand moves
mine now on the shaft and the voice continues to whimper as it reasons
how wrong it is, but I hear his breath and his moaning voice telling
me he loves me, that I am his princess, and I don't stop.

His hand between my legs moves and as his fingertips touch the lips in
the darkness, he suddenly tenses and inhales sharply. The shaft in my
hand pulses and he cries out as warm wetness hits my body. His hips
buck, making the cock fuck my hand and I feel the warm drops hit me
again and again, flowing down my body until they stop where our skin
touches.

And when he holds me and tells me with a trembling voice that it is
ok, there is only one voice left. The one telling me, that, no matter
what, I can never afford to lose this haven of love and affection I
found in tonight's thunderstorm.

-o-

Dr. Jenkins smiles at me as I wake up. Her studio isn't air
conditioned and her face is flushed and sweaty from the summer
afternoon's heat. She is holding my hand and tells me that we really
made good progress and that she will soon be able to help me.

I want to ask her what I told her, but for some reason I'm unable to
form the words and after a few silent attempts I smile and nod. I feel
the wetness between my legs, the same wetness I always feel when she
gets me back from the trance she put me under. I blush deeply, I am
sure I told her about the rapist and I am barely able to look at her,
afraid I will see the same expression on her face the other therapist
showed before he ended the sessions. She smiles at me again and gives
my hand a light squeeze before she gets up.

We fix the next appointment and when I hold the paper with it's date
and time in my hand, I suddenly feel and at ease as she smiles at me,
telling me that everything will be alright. I smile back, the emotions
I feel reminding me of something, but before I can grasp it, the
memory vanishes and I'm in front of her door again, my hand clutching
the piece of paper that promises salvation from my curse. 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As always, feel free to tell me if you liked it. 
If you didn't please tell me as well :)

And - if the story gave you an erotic tickle - thank you :)

Those who liked it can find my other stories here:
http://cynfulangel.blogspot.com/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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