Date: Fri, 22 Dec 2023 09:44:26 +0000 (GMT)
From: blackscar01 <blackscar01@btinternet.com>
Subject: The Therapist

IMPORTANT NOTE TO ALL READERS

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organisations, and
incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales,
organisations, or events is entirely coincidental.

The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the websites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.

*******

If you enjoy my story or any others on the Nifty site, please show your
appreciation and donate what you can afford.

*******

Finally, thank you once again to my editor, Jim.

*******

A bit of a departure from my recent writing folks, a bit on the dark side,
this one. A new genre for me, Adult/Authoritarian. You have been warned.

*******

The Therapist

Why do I do this? I am a Power Bottom; You try getting a decent shag in
Cumbria. So, I am a relationship therapist. I have to chuckle, some people
who have met me, probably about half if I am honest, would say I need to
see a psychiatrist.

I suppose I should be up front with you all; I am gay and my speciality is
gay couples. Yes, for the last 10 years I have been meeting gay couples who
are having 'relationship' problems; see, I know all the buzzwords and I
know which one of the couple will fall for all that shit on my webpage
every time. 'Inner self' 'Lived experience' 'Belonging' 'My truth'. I am
sure if I put on the site and the moon is made of green cheese, some of
those sad idiots would nod hopefully.

Sorry, it's hard not to laugh out loud when I think of the guys I have
met. Of course, I invite the couples to fill in online 'Clinical
Expression' forms; I mean, for Christ's sake, what does that even
mean?. They tell me everything I need to know about them and the state of
their relationship. Then it's vetting and decision time. Which ones do I
fancy using for the weekend? That's not quite right though, they all attend
willingly. There is no coercion, or any other form of manipulation, well
not by me.

I invite the chosen ones to my cottage for a weekend retreat, in the
desolate splendour of the Cumbrian mountains. A 'Mindful' and 'Wellbeing'
weekend to 'Analyse and Breakdown' their issues. Ninety-nine percent of the
time, I could tell them before they even arrive. I bet some of you have
already worked out where I am going with this... So, sit back and enjoy the
ride, I do.

Some of you, I know, will believe me and know exactly what I mean. The
couples that arrive always look the same, the sad, dumpy, insecure one,
desperately chasing rainbows, and the other, usually better looking and
fitter, who doesn't really think any of this 'shit' is necessary, but has
finally agreed to attend, just to shut up the constant whining. Ladies and
Gents, The individuals' names are unimportant, I give you 'The bottom and
the Top' 'The sub and the Alpha' call them what you will.

All I know is one is going to be going home sad, usually alone and the
other with a reprieve from a lifetime sentence of pathetic whimpering.

**

The postman had just been. He was nice enough. I watched as he drove the
nearly mile long track from the main road to my cottage. I am not sure he
really appreciated the long drive to my cottage on the single-track road;
but then he had no choice. I didn't make him very welcome. I don't want him
turning up for coffee when I have guests staying, now do I?.

Where do I live? The easy answer is in the middle of nowhere. My cottage
retreat had been an old hill farm off the main A66 until I converted
it. Just turn left at Troutbeck and head towards the hills on the A5019. My
place is off one of the side tracks, just at the foot of the hills. I had
been lucky in business and made a reasonable amount of money in the City of
London, way more than I needed. At twenty-eight, I took early retirement. I
found the old farm online and put in an offer which was accepted. I then
pulled the place down and rebuilt it just how I wanted. With no near
neighbours, it was just perfect.

A huge master bedroom with ensuite; containing its only spa bath and walk
in six feet square shower and steam cubicle. The only other bedroom in the
place is much smaller, a box room, really serving as a second bedroom,
right next door to the master. I use this as the guest accommodation, well,
for one of them. Both of these bedrooms have doors opening in to a large
open plan seating, dining, kitchen area. I rather grandly refer to as the
'Meditation and Recreation Area' on the website. The focal point of this
'Meditation and Recreation Area' is a large inglenook fireplace. I find you
can't beat sex on a large fur rug in front of a roaring fire. There are
only two other doors leading from this space, one into the small entrance
hall and one to a small shower and toilet area. My private office is off of
the entrance hall.

I perhaps should mention that along one side of the 'Meditation and
Recreation Area' is a huge glass wall that runs the full height and length
of the room. It looks out onto an expanse of hardwood decking and the
countryside beyond. The decking area holds a small wooden Scandinavian
sauna cabin and a large sunken jacuzzi spa pool, and seating area and
BBQ. The décor, well, it has previously been called spartan and
monastic. The walls are all white, the floors oak planking and the
furniture all heavy oak, except for the loving seat to the side of the
inglenook. Personally, I like the ambience of the place.

**

I closed the door on the postman and entered my little office with the
post; three identical buff A4 envelopes and two white ones, all addressed
to the retreat. I tossed the two white ones into the bin, unopened. You
see, it even started with that. I discounted or, is a better word, ignored,
any couples where one of them could not follow simple instructions. The
site clearly said, 'print and send your completed 'Clinical Expression'
forms and recent clear full face, colour, A4 passport style photographs in
a 'buff A4 envelope'. Not a white one, and most definitely not folded in to
an A5 blue one.

I smiled to myself at the arguments I had already instigated between the
couples. I could hear the 'Alphas' "Just send it, What does it fucking
matter what colour the envelope is?!"

Then the whining, "Yes, but is says. We don't want to upset him... We want
to create a good impression..."

I could see the Alpha glancing skywards... "Okay, well, you deal with it
then!" Anything for a quiet life.

What difference did the style of envelope make to me ultimately? None, none
at all, I just needed to know that at least one of the pair knew how to
follow instructions. Surmising that the one who wanted this retreat and
would follow my instructions to the letter was the sad, insecure dumpy one.

I lay the 'buff' envelopes on my desk and booted up my laptop and waited
for it to connect to the Wi-Fi; yes, we have the internet in Cumbria. I
quickly logged into my webpage. Even I am impressed by the picture on the
site of the little white cottage nestling at the foot of a mountain; okay,
a large hill. Buzz words drift almost unnoticed across the serene image. I
have found subliminal messages are best.

I flicked through the pictures on the site and check all the links work. I
paused on my favourite image, the one I love most, the image of the
Jacuzzi; where all my work begins and usually ends. It sits romantically,
but clearly visible, snuggled into a corner of the extensive covered
decking, with views out on to nature's surrounding wonders... Yes, I said,
covered decking! It rains a lot in Cumbria, as some of us can vouch.

**

I checked the activity logs for my webpage and read a couple of the
messages I had been sent, expressing interest in visiting. It was usually
in these first few lines, this initial contact that I knew whether they
were potential candidates for my depraved mind or not. I knew if they
started out hesitant, almost pleading for help, they were for me. My
response to the initial contact was always friendly-ish. I directed them to
the forms that needed to be completed, stressing that they should follow
all the instructions to the letter, adding that then and only then I would
happily respond further when I received them. I wasn't going to get into a
discussion with these people. Fuck, if they thought they needed a
therapist, let them contact me the correct way.

Having sent my replies, and added in another couple of glowing, but fake
reviews, I pushed the laptop to the side and reached out for the three buff
envelopes the postman had delivered.

Opening each of them, I removed the white A4 folders and lay them out in
front of me. I was faced with three name labels, each with two sets of
names. I picked up the first one, Chris and Andrew. Their surnames were
different, so...

I opened their folder and took out the two A4 sized, full face colour
photographs. Each had a name written in biro across the bottom. One just as
the site stated, a copper plate, 'Andrew'. The other, well, I hoped he had
written it himself, it had a large bold 'C'; I liked that, the Alpha,
'Chris!'.

I smiled to myself. I knew immediately, I had to have him. I grinned as I
picked up his 'Clinical Assessment' form, containing all of his personal
details. 'Christopher Rory McPhee', with the word Chris in brackets after
that and underlined twice and an exclamation mark, could this get any
better? I filed that away in my head.

Twenty-eight. Six feet tall, hmmm, taller than me, not that a taller guy
ever bothered me, we were all the same height lying down. He had a
narrowish face, no; I am being too harsh. He had a gorgeous face, and his
eyes. They seemed to fix mine from the paper. I squinted at the photograph
as I held it into the light from the window. Were they blue or a pale
green? Each of the irises had dark limbal rings framing them. Real, come to
bed eyes. What had I read about limbal rings? I grinned as it came back to
me, a sign of health and attractiveness, well you could say that
again. Whoever wrote that knew his stuff!

His hair was the colour of ripened grain, a thick yellowish flax. It was
slightly scruffy, windswept, even. Cut shorter, very short on the sides,
longer on the top, but with a much longer floppy fringe which fell forward,
it seemed to float, seductively, just above his eyes. He had facial hair
too, a relatively short-trimmed beard, not designer stubble mind. It
followed his jaw from his sideburns to his chin, then petered out somewhat,
leading up to his perfect bottom lip. There it formed two columns leading
up to either side of his lips; those perfect lips, coming to an end with a
full moustache covering his top lip. Subconsciously, I licked my lips. This
guy was gorgeous, more I could tell from the cocky look he was giving me,
he knows he is too.

I reached for the other photograph. As expected, a little pudding face
stared out at me. With piggie brown eyes, brown hair, a poor brown
imitation of Chris's beard. I put it back down and picked up Andrews
'Clinical Expression' form. I scanned through it, he was Mr Average... I
flipped the form over, this was the bit I wanted to read. 'Chris and I have
been together for seven years.' I am sure I smirked, 'In the beginning,
everything was wonderful, he couldn't do enough for me'. Barf, 'Then things
changed, he won't discuss anything and we no longer have any form of
intimate relationship.' Fuck, what was this guy on? 'Please, please, can
you help us?'. I smiled to myself again, 'us'. Only one of you needed
help...

**

I opened my laptop and checked my calendar, totally empty, just the way I
liked and kept it. I went back to the availability section Andrew had
filled in. Once more, it was a waffle fest, one day here, one day there,
with the reasons it was unavailable to them. Like I cared if it was his
mother's birthday, or he had a dentist appointment... Why is it some people
confuse you with someone who actually gives a fuck?

I had one more thing to check before I responded. I pulled over my laptop
and picked up Chris's 'Clinical Expression' form once more. I scanned down
to his Facebook profile name. I typed it in and pulled it up on the
screen. The silly boy hadn't set all his privacy settings. I went straight
to the photo section and began to browse. Oh, there were the obligatory
photos of him and Andrew. Christ, Andrew was gripping him like that Megan
woman. Oh, what's her name? You know the one who grips on to Prince Harry
for grim death while grinning like a loon. Poor Chris looked anything but
happy. I flicked back to the older photographs. The further I went back,
the more he was smiling in them. God, he has an amazing smile, and there's
a surprise, no Andrew to be seen in the older pictures. Better still, in
several he was in budgie smugglers on the beach. He had a nice muscled
body, I hope he still had it. I glanced at his form again, smiling as he
listed the name of his gym, oh good. There was also a nice revealing one of
him in a wet suit with some friends, holding a surfboard. There was that
killer smile again. I expanded the picture, at first on his face, my cock
throbbed, then zoomed in on the background, trying to work out where it
could have been taken, the sky was grey and overcast, must be somewhere in
Britain, probably Cornwall.

I pulled up my email page and typed in their joint email addresses. 'Dear
Andrew and Chris, thank you for your interest in attending one of our
relationship retreats, sadly; it appeared from the availability section of
your form, Andrew, that our available dates just don't match up... I went
on, 'It is such a shame as I am sure I could have helped you out.' I sat,
then cast my line, 'I know it's a long shot, but is there any way you could
attend this coming weekend? I have just this morning received a last-minute
cancellation'. I went on, 'Sadly if you can't make that, we are probably
looking at next year' adding as a kind of footnote, 'I am so sure I would
have been able to assist you both too. Yours sincerely, Peter.' I pressed
send.

**

Ah, now you know my name. Yes, I'm Peter, Peter Wiltshire, fully qualified
'Relationship Therapist'. Initially, I just helped out friends and then,
well, I began to charge, it was a nice bit of regular pin money.

I was thirty-four last year and have been qualified now for nearly ten
years. Early on I had realised I didn't enjoy the banking world, well, not
all of it, I liked the control and manipulation of people it afforded you;
the power, if you will. I didn't want to abandon that completely, not and
lose that rush.

To me, it was a relatively simple side step, transferring that control into
my therapy and relationship, sideline work, then turning it into a
full-time career.

I have always been a gay bottom. I learnt early on that bottoms tend to be
the lowest of the low in the hierarchy of the gay world. Well, that's how
lots of tops see us. When I was twenty-five, I had met an amazing alpha
guy. Over our time together, he taught me to see that I was in fact the one
with all the power... I had what the top wanted, gay or straight; a warm,
tight, welcoming, no questions asked, always available arse. He taught me
not to accept being used, but instead to use those arrogant alpha tops and
pleasure myself using their bodies and dicks. Some see that as a form of
aggression, riding a top and telling them exactly what you want. You would
be right, however, the thrill and the power rush became a powerful drug to
me. I was addicted, willing to do anything to get what I wanted, just like
any other kind of addict.

**

I closed my laptop and picked it up. I moved into the main room and moved
to the table by the glass wall. I sat looking out, my eyes not really
focusing on anything. I knew it would be sometime, before I heard back from
Andrew, but I also knew what his response would be.

I smiled. Now, I know some of you will want to know how did this lust for
the chase, the power rush, transfer into my therapy relationship work?

I can recall clearly the first time it occurred to me that I had the power
to either help or take what I wanted. I chose to take and enjoy. I still
remember the couple clearly, Ryan and Ged. They are no longer together. A
previous client had recommended that they speak to me... Well, that Ryan,
contact me as they were 'experiencing difficulties with their
relationship'. Wallowing in self-doubt and his own insecurities, he had
done so. So there we were some weeks later, seated in my London flat.

I bet you have guessed. Ryan was the insecure bottom, the relationship's
junior partner. The more I sat listening to him whine on, I realised it was
all in his head. I lost count of how many times his partner Ged had taken
his hand and tried to assure him that he still loved him to bits.

In fact, I was getting bored hearing it. I had zoned out when I heard Ged
mumbling, "But you always say it hurts you when we have sex... That's why I
don't ask anymore."

I had completely missed what Ryan had said. I refocused, and sat forward on
my chair, "This sounds like an area we should possibly consider in more
detail... Ryan, perhaps, you would like to expand on what Ged said... Help
us to understand it better."

Ryan looked at the carpet, his face visibly flushing with
embarrassment. "He is just so big."

SO BIG? My mind raced and my arse twitched. I wanted to scream at Ged, "Too
BIG? Why the fuck are you wasting it on this idiot who doesn't know what he
wants?" At that precise moment a switch flicked in my brain, my therapy
mind began its decent in to darkness. If Ryan didn't want Ged, I would take
him and use him for my pleasure. My mind begun racing with the
possibilities.

"It's the same size it always was! I don't remember you complaining when we
met." Ged spat out the words, practically hissing. I refocused.

Ryan let out a sob. I let Ged's anger go unchallenged, in fact, I fanned
it. I heard myself desperately trying not to sound condescending. "Has it
grown bigger, Ryan? Is that what you think?" Time to belittle and make him
feel stupid, destroy any remaining vestiges of confidence and self-worth he
still had.

Ryan blushed even more and swallowed, "No, of course not..."

I glanced at Ged. He was looking skyward, his lips taut. Just the reaction
I wanted from him.

"Go on Ryan, you look like you want to say something else, or am I
mistaken?" I reached out and touched his knee. His face flashed up, his
eyes making contact with mine, I gave a little nod. He returned it. I had
him... The mug, he thought, I was on his side.

He glanced down again, his expression changed, had I given him the little
boost to his confidence to really make a mess of this? God, I hoped so. He
bit his lip and shook his head, his eyes glazed with tears, he took a deep
breath, and with his voice breaking, "No, I do have something else I would
like to say." I could have kissed him. Ged let out a harsh sigh.

I smiled comfortingly at Ryan. "Please Ryan, go ahead, this is a safe space
for you both to express your true feelings." God, listen to me, I really
spouted some shit sometimes, actually, all the time.

Ged grunted dismissively. It was obvious from his face he was getting more
and more pissed off. "Go on then! Just what have I done this time?" he
snarled at Ryan.

I glanced at Ryan, still not challenging Ged's aggressive words and tone. I
leant forward expectantly, "Ryan?"

Ryan glanced at me, another little nod, a deep breath, and off he
rattled. "You never used to be so rough... When we had sex, now ... You
keep wanting to try out different positions... They hurt! ... You only
think of yourself and getting off, never me!"

ROUGH? My hole spasmed again and my cock, which had been bored up until
now, twitched into life.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Barked Ged as he stood, "What's the fucking
point! ... SHIT, surely you are as bored as ME with the sex we have!"

My cock throbbed to a full erection. I adjusted myself, Ged noticed, a
smile flashed across his eyes as they locked on mine. Ryan was now sobbing
into an old paper tissue. I reached out and took hold of Ged's arm, the
electricity sparked between us, "Ged, please, please sit down."

Ryan sniffled, God, he was pathetic. Was it time for the coup de
grâce?

I offered Ryan another tissue from the box on the table. He took it and
blew his nose softly. I modulated my voice perfectly, "Perhaps this is a
good time to break for today? I can see you are very upset."

Ryan nodded and blew his nose again into the ever diminishing and snotty
paper tissue. He stood slowly.

"We can pick up from here at our next session."

He nodded. I saw Ged start to stand up. I reached out and gripped his knee,
my casual gesture belying the power I exerted on his knee. He glanced over
at me, again our eyes locked, another flash of understanding and he sat
back in the chair.

With my very pores oozing concern, I joined Ryan standing, he looked round
at Ged, "Aren't you coming?"

"Ryan, I would like to speak to Ged further alone." I locked my eyes on
Ryans, mouthing, "Let me sort this out for you." Ryan smiled with his eyes
and mouthed back, "Thank you, thank you so much..." I showed him to the
door. He paused again, "Ged, darling, I will wait in the car."

Ged smiled back from the chair, "Don't worry, you get on home. I will grab
some Chinese for tea once I am finished here."

"Okay, darling."

BARF. I closed the door behind him and turned back to Ged. "You, you follow
me!"

Ged stood smirking. I didn't wait for him. I headed straight down the
corridor of my flat and into the bedroom. Ged stood grinning at me from the
door. I took his arm and pulled him into the room. "Now strip, let me see
what size this amazing weapon of mass destruction really is... and better
still, what it can do."

Ged pulled off his rugby shirt, and began undoing his jeans, he toed off
his shoes, his face a massive grin. "This is more like it!"

"Shut up and get on the bed... I want to feel what all the fuss is about
inside me!" I barked at him.

"Fuck, yes." Naked, his cock already hard, swaying before him, he threw
himself on to my bed and flipped over on to his back. Cockily he put his
arms behind his head, his eyes focused on me.

I slowly began to remove my own clothes. "Wank for me. Get that cock hard
and wet!"

He hesitated for a microsecond and then dropped one arm to his shaft. He
gripped it and began to stroke his foreskin back and forth over his
swollen, hard cockhead. His dick was a generous and thick seven inches, not
the biggest I had ever had, but it was just what I needed right now.

Naked I walked over to the bed, his prefuck was dribbling over his hand,
his whole cock and balls now glistening in it. He was so turned on. I
picked up the lube from the bedside cabinet and tossed it to him. "Lube up,
big boy!" He grinned and undid the cap, and pumped several good squirts
into his palm before coating his cock with it.

I climbed onto the bed and stood over him, my legs astride his body. "Now
show me what you can do with it!"

He groaned as I lowered myself, he widened his legs, "Oh fuck, yes. Come
on, baby, I know you want it."

I slapped his face hard, stunned he looked at me. "Just fuck me!" I snarled
at him.

Facing him, I positioned my hole over his bellend and with my eyes fixed on
his. I blew him an exaggerated air kiss, and let myself drop like a stone,
down to his balls.

"Oh, shit." His hands grabbed for my hips. I slapped them away. "I told you
to fuck me! So, fuck me!"

He swallowed, I don't think he could quite believe it. His face tensed as
he strained to lift his hips, pushing his cockhead even deeper into me. I
grinned and moved my fingers to his chest, there I sought out his nipples
and gripped them, twisting them brutally.

"Ouch, fuck." He squirmed, trying to avoid my fingers.

"I told you to fuck me." I grunted, "AHH, you need me to make it easier for
you... and there was me thinking you were the big stud. How do you want to
do this, then?"

His bravado had gone, "Can I go on top?"

"No!, the most I will agree to is doggie."

"Okay," he mumbled.

I lifted off of him and got onto all fours. For a moment, I thought he was
going to make a run for it. I grinned back at him, time to stroke his ego
again. "Come on stud, show me what you have got!"

A smile returned to his face, and he shuffled onto his knees and manoeuvred
in behind me.

I glanced back, "Now, deep and hard is how I like it!"

He nodded. He looked like he was about to say, "Yes Sir," but he stopped
himself. I groaned as his cockhead pushed into me again.

I reached my hand back under myself, reaching between his legs and gripped
his big hairy balls. I gave them a gentle squeeze, "Look, I know what I
want. I said, Deep and Hard." I released my grip as I felt his hips move.

He had gotten the message. He gripped my hips again and his balls began to
nosily slap against my arse as he built up his speed and power.

He bitch fucked me, slamming into me hard, just the way I liked it. He
lasted for precisely five minutes; I timed it.

"I'm sorry, I am going to cum, I can't keep this up... I'm sorry." He
grunted.

I pushed back hard against him, "Don't be sorry, we have all night."

He grunted as his cum flooded into me. "But, but, I have to get home." He
whimpered.

I had just chuckled, as I glanced round at him, "You're not going anywhere
until I am satisfied."

*

"You have mail". Does anyone else hate that voice like I do? I had just
been stroking my cock, thinking about Ryan and Ged and what I would like to
do with Chris given the chance. I opened my laptop and clicked on my email
account.

It was an email from Andrew, "Hi, it has taken some arranging, but we can
make it for this weekend. Please send full details."

I grinned, "Oh, that would be my total pleasure."

                        **********************

Folks, there is nothing more rewarding than hearing from you that you are
enjoying the story. Please take the time to email me to let me
know. Blackscar.

Other Nifty stories by Blackscar.

'Operation Pied Piper'              - Gay/Adult/Youth
'NightCam Fun'                      -- Gay/Encounters
'Exploring my brother'              -- Gay/Incest
'Josh's Adventures series'          - Gay/Adult Youth
'An Army life for me'               - Gay/Adult Youth/Military
'Grandmas Bedroom'                  -- Bisexual/Incest
'Dominic Online'                    -- Gay/Adult Youth
'Vampyre'                           -- Gay/Adult Youth
'Operation Pied Piper'              -- Gay/Adult Youth
'Scream if you want to go faster'   - Bisexual/Adult Youth
'Red and Nick'                      -- Bisexual/Military
'The Extraordinary Christmas Party' -- Bisexual/Incest
'A Brother Used'                    - Gay/Incest
'A very English Trailer Park'       - Gay/Adult Youth
'Special lube Oil'                  ­- Gay/Adult Youth