Confessions of Naughty Therapist

This story is a work of fiction with fictitious characters over the age of 18. The story is about a lesbian / bisexual mind control. If that offends you, please stop reading and close this window now. If it doesn't, enjoy this naughty tale.

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Some days are more difficult than others. That's just how life works. Every crest of optimism is followed by trough of complication. With change a universal constant, the Zen path to happiness is simple; be happy. When you know in your heart that crests are destined to come, the troughs aren't as deep or as complex.

Of course, as humans (with very powerful brains), we can collectively overcomplicate our own lives and the lives of others around us to a point of absolute toxicity and fuckery. As an adaptive, living organ, the human brain relies on chemical input to operate. Provide dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins and the brain experiences happiness and related feelings. Pump the brain with cortisol and you induce fear, disappointment, anxiety and stress.

These neurochemicals not only cause temporary feelings, over an extended period of time they can re-wire your brain response centers. In the simplest of explanations, being happy helps your brain evolve into a positive wired brain and being unhappy wires your brain to operate from a basis of negativity.

Tossing aside the complexities of patients with biological brain abnormalities, the vast majority of my clients simply suffer from a chemical imbalance — caused by a multitude of social, environmental and behavioral problems.

My name is Naomi Akana. I am a neuro-surfer and clinical psychologist. I teach people how to ride the waves of life.

I am the daughter of a Long Island Jewish lawyer and a Polynesian surfer-boy from Maui. I'm what happens when a pent-up New York lawyer has one too many Mai Tai on vacation and wander's off with a surfer she met on Lahaina beach. She couldn't leave the city. He wouldn't leave the islands. I spent the summers of my youth in Hawaii from my earliest memories until I attended college there 15-years ago. An odd life for sure but I can't complain. I've got big, Jewish girl boobs with small dark nipples and bronze skin — a visual treat that never fails to inspire my sexual partners.

I let my mind wander between appointments — I have to. So many people, so many problems, if I wasn't a cognitive therapy specialist, I'd have a hell of a time keeping my own head straight. As the clock ticked down to my next appointment, I let my mind drift to beautiful Hawaiian beaches. I visualized the waves and my heels stuck to a well-waxed surfboard as I pushed into my bottom turn and chase the face of the wave ahead of me.

I smiled at the clock. For most people, clocks are a constraint — a device that puts pressure on their life, every moment of every day. For me, a clock sets boundaries, eliminates chaos and, of course, pays my bills. I knew Janine, my next appointment, was in the waiting room. I could have easily started our session early but I learned early in my practice that the easiest way to fail at a time-based business is to ignore the clock. You can't bend the rules of time and you can't surf the backside of a wave.

As the clock spun to the top of the hour, I slid from behind my desk and called Janine in.

"Hi Janine. Come on in."

Janine lifted herself out of the waiting room chair and lugged her backpack and computer bag into my office. Her auburn hair was pulled in a tight ponytail and her trendy, black-framed glasses hung low on her button nose. She wore her usual dark hoodie, ill-fitting jeans and tattered Chuck-Taylor gym shoes with dirty laces.

I sat in my chair as she plopped down her burdensome bags and sat on the couch. I reached to my side table, grabbed my clipboard and push the remote button to begin the video recording of my session.

"How was you're week Janine? Did you work on the things we talked about last meeting?"

"I did Dr. Akana. Some... but not all."

"Let's focus on your accomplishments then. Tell me what you did and how it went."

Janine began to recount the experiences she had with my graded exposure exercises. She was charged with placing herself in social environments that normally cause her severe anxiety. The systematic confrontations of her fears are designed to slowly, over time, diminish the severity through repeated contact. After a year of therapy, Janine was making little progress.

At age 24, Janine is a grad student and classic INFP. She is a highly sensitive introvert who uses every fiber of her being to worry about negative outcomes or seek self-criticism. With two, overachieving, narcissistic parents, she's spent her life being belittled, condemned and misunderstood. If I had a nickel for every fucked up parent that ruined a child, I could retire today.

Janine and I discussed her successes and I gave her another round of tasks to complete. I looked at the clock and our session was nearly complete. As I started to wrap up the our meeting, Janine interrupted me and asked, "Do you do hypnosis Dr. Akana? I was reading online and talking to my friends in an online group about hypnosis and some are saying it really works for them."

I looked at the clock and chose my words very carefully as I answered her, "I've studied the topic in past, maybe we can talk about it more in our next meeting because our time is up today."

"Ok," she said with disappointment, "I might go to that one the others online are using."

"I highly recommend against that Janine," I said defensively.

"But... I have to do something. I just can't take this anymore," she said as she broke down into tears.

I grabbed the box of tissue from my table and sat next to her on the couch. I looked at the clock. While she was my last appointment today, there are rules —but she was right. We were both nearly at our wits end with the lack of her progress. While I didn't believe or condone the validity of hypnosis in successful therapy, the fact was, she did. Regardless of my feelings on hypnosis, the Milgram Experiments had proven subjects willingly obey an authoritarian figure — even in stressful situations. Perhaps, I could use that as an advantage in this situation.

I put my arm around her and handed her the tissue box, "Listen Janine, I don't use hypnosis in my clinical practice but in your case, I'm willing to bend the rules."

Janine quickly looked up at me with a hope in her eyes that I'd never seen before.

"You will?" she said smiling, "Really?"

"Absolutely," I hesitated, "but you have to promise, with all your heart, that this part of our therapy is strictly confidential."

"It so will be," she said with a heightening level of glee in her voice.

"I mean. You have to truly promise me. I mean swear to me."

"I do. I swear."

I thought for a moment and walked over to my desk. I rummaged in the drawer and grabbed a crystal necklace that a patient had given me. I held it in my hand as I rearranged my two siting chairs across from each other and pulled the room darkening curtains closed. I dimmed the overhead lights, instructed Janine sit across from me and explained the process as I sat down.

"Hypnotic therapy is vastly different from what we do in our normal sessions. With hypnosis, I'll be asking you do to things that are leaps and bounds ahead of where we are now. Do you understand this?"

"I do," she nodded.

"Hypnosis cannot make you do things that you DO NOT want to do. If anything I suggest makes you uncomfortable, makes you feel in danger or is something you simply don't want to do, you don't have to do it. Do you understand? "

"Yes," she nodded again.

"With this session I am going to use hypnosis to help you see, and believe, things that I know and see in you. Do you give me consent to do this?"

"I do."

"Are you completely sure."

"Yes."

I wrapped the leather cord once around my hand then pinched the remaining chord between my thumb and index finger. Holding the blue selenite crystal level with her eyes, I slowly rolled it clockwise and then counter clockwise.

"I want you to relax and concentrate on the crystal. Watch the light penetrate deep into the mineral and feel the vibrations pushing the stress from your body. Breathe in slowly," I paused, "now out just as slow. All your fears are flowing down through your torso, legs and out through your toes. You are feeling the warmth of release. You are grounded. You are safe."

I continued to spin the crystal and watched her foxus on the crystal. Her normally doubtful, meek demeanor faded into a glowing peaceful calm. She truly looked different.

"Continue to watch the crystal as it turns. Concentrate on all of its flaws and feel it's collective beauty. Feel its energy rise to a crest and flow into you —pushing back your worries, your doubt and let the light fill the dark corners of your mind. When you feel the energy cleanse every muscle, every doubt, close your eyes and wait for the sound of my voice."

I continued to spin the crystal watching her eyes slowly droop and then finally close. I let her rest in her relaxed state and contemplated my next move. I consider multiple paths of instruction but decided just to be bold and cut to the chase. She really was a great girl, who just needed to believe in herself — to know that her imperfections were assets; her sensitivity was not a weakness and she was beautiful. She simply needed confidence.

As I sat there watching her, really trying to make a change, it was clear she was broken but willing to risk all to get to a better place. If she was all in, so was I. This was either going to help her turn the corner or bring us both down in flames. Either way, the moment was already in motion. I looked at my clock, rolled my eyes and shrugged. Rules were meant to be broken.

"Janine can you hear my voice?"

"Yes," she replied softly.

"You are safe in my care. You are to remain relaxed and follow my instructions. Everything I tell you to do will bring you closer to where you want to be. Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," she said again.

"I want you to open your eyes slowly and remain relaxed. Your body will still feel warm, light and safe. When your eyes are totally open, stand up."

Janine's eyes opened and after a moment she stood in front of her chair. I walked past her towards the mirrored wall between my bookcases and gently instructed her to follow me to the mirror and stand in front of it. She stopped a few feet from the mirror with an unobstructed view of herself from head to toe. I let her stand there for and extended time to see if her demeanor changed. It did not.

"What do you see in the mirror?" I asked.

"Sadness," she replied.

"What makes you sad?"

"People," she said softly.

"Why do people make you sad?"

"They make me worry."

"Worry about what?"

"That I'm not good enough."

"Do they say that or do you just feel it?" I asked, quickening the pace of questioning to match her short answers.

"Sometimes both," she answered —again without emotion.

I paused for a second and weighed the options of my next move. Throwing caution and professionalism to the wind I walked to the edge of the cliff with determination and jumped off, "When I count to three you are going to remove all of your clothing except your underwear. One. Two. Three."

Janine didn't hesitate or falter. She didn't blush or show any hint of emotional response. She just undressed. I watched as she lifted her hoodie over her head, kicked off her shoes, slid from her jeans and removed her socks. She left her clothing wherever it fell and returned to looking in the mirror.

"What do you see now?" I asked.

"Imperfection," she said.

I walked around her and surveyed her figure. Her B-cup breasts stood firmly in her loose, gray sports bra. Her auburn pubic hair puffed the front of her sheer, white panties. While her body wasn't particularly toned, her soft, natural curves were very inviting and sexy.

I stepped in close behind her, slid my hands up her torso and grabbed the sides of her sports bra and lifted it over her head. Her perky tits bounced free and I could see her pink, erect nipples in the mirror. I dropped her bra to the floor then hooked my thumbs in the sides of her panties. I pushed them down her legs and let them fall around her feet. She didn't move or step out of them. Her breathing continued in a slow, deliberate manner as I removed the hairband from her ponytail and fluffed her auburn hair over her milky-white, freckled shoulders. Under all that grunge, she truly was an alluring, young woman.

I leaned forward and rested my chin on her shoulder, looking at both of us in the mirror, "What do you see now Janine?"

Her expression remained soft and unchanged as she answered, "shame."

Her words hit me heavy in the chest and I felt my lips quiver and my eyes well up. There are days I truly hate this world for making me pick up all of it's broken pieces.

I quickly moved in front of her and asked, " When you look at me what do you see Janine?"

"Beauty," she said softly.

I kicked her clothing to the side as I un-tucked the white blouse from my skirt. My fingers made quick work of the buttons and I dropped the blouse on top of hers then unzipped my sateen, khaki skirt. I let the skirt fall and stepped out of it. As I walked to her I unfastened the front clip on my white lace bra and let it slide over my shoulders and down my arms to the floor.

The cool air in the room instantly hardened my dark nipples. I moved directly in front of her — nearly nipple to nipple and asked, "Are my breasts beautiful Janine?"

"Yes," she replied as our gaze locked eye to eye.

I reached down and lifted her hands to my breasts, "Feel them. Knead your fingers in them and tug on my nipple. Roll it in your fingers and give it a gentle squeeze."

Janine performed my request and I couldn't tell if it was her or me trembling with her touch.

"Do you like my breasts?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Are the they most beautiful breasts you have ever seen?"

"Yes," she sighed.

I pushed my panties down as she caressed my breasts. I stepped back to completely removed them as I took her hands rested them back at her sides. As I pulled my panties down my thighs my wetness puddled and clung to the gusset. I held them in my hand after stepping out of them and asked, "Is my pussy also beautiful Janine?"

"Yes."

I ran my index finger deep in my wet slit, stepped towards her and dragged my middle finger through hers. Her juices matted her pussy hair and soaked my finger. I pushed both fingers into her mouth and asked, "Can you taste our pussies?"

"Yes," she slurped.

"Can you tell which is yours and which is mine?

"No," she said with my fingers still in her mouth.

I let her savor the wetness a little longer and withdrew my fingers. I leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Do our pussies taste beautiful?"

"Yes," she gasped.

I reached for her breast with my wet hand and teased her nipple — rolling it under my saliva and pussy-soaked fingers. My free hand slid behind her back and I held her tight as I teased her further, "You're a very sensitive girl aren't you Janine?"

"Yes," she said through her quickening breaths.

"When I count to three, your nipples and clit are going to become extremely sensitive and you are going to be less sensitive to the things other may say or think about you. You're over-sensitivity will be limited to your clit and nipples. One. Two. Three."

Janine moaned deeply as I pulled on her nipple. My hand slid down her belly to her sex and my head dropped to her breasts. I drew her pencil-hard, elongated nipple into my mouth as my fingers danced over her clit. Her body squirmed in my clutches as I plunged my fingers in and out of her. My thumb continued to work her clit into a frenzie. Her hips bucked wildly as an orgasm ripped through her body. I rubbed and sawed into her pussy until she collapsed onto me. I stood there holding her for a long time, feeling our sweat, juices and desire mix.

When we finally regained our breath and I felt she could stand on her own I whispered in her ear, "You are going to get dressed now but leave your panties here. You didn't wear any today because you rushed out of the house."

Janine and I both dressed. I stuffed her and my panties in my skirt pockets and made myself presentable in the mirror. I told Janine to sit in the chair again and I returned to mine as well to wake her.

"Close your eyes and listen to me closely. When I count to ten you are going to wake up slowly. You are going to feel completely relaxed, energized and not remember our sensual encounter. The only things you will remember are the following things: you feel beautiful; when you look in the mirror you believe you are sexy and appealing to others; you are going to go shopping and buy clothes that are feminine and make you feel beautiful; you are going to go to a hair salon and have your hair cut in a trendy style; you are going to feel good about yourself and ignore the negativity of others. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

Janine sat quietly for a moment and then slowly opened her eyes. As the moments passed she became brighter, more aware and a soft smile spread over her lips.

"Feeling ok?" I asked nervously.

She stretched her arms and arched her back. Smiling as she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck muscles from side to side, "I feel good," she said with light surprise, "really, really good."

I observed her closely as I asked, "Do remember anything? "

She looked around, reached up and fiddled with the hair that hung over her shoulders with an inquisitive look on her face, "That... I need a haircut?"

I laughed, "Yes. You kept going on about that for some reason. Maybe you should listen to your subconscious self and follow through on that."

Janine smiled often as she picked up her bags and I showed her out. Her spirits really seemed lifted and different. Whether she was really hypnotized or just playing along gnawed at me deeply. I locked the outer office door behind her and then retired to my office and locked that door too. I dimmed the lights, stopped my session recording and sat down at my desk.

I rolled my chair forward, opened my laptop and opened the session recording from tonight. I slid the video cue to the moment Janine began to undress in the mirror and pulled the laptop towards me to rest on the edge of the desk. I stood up briefly to take her panties from my pocket and remove my skirt again. I sat in the chair, leaned back and put my feet up on the desk — with legs spread wide.

I pushed play on the video screen and watched Janine start to undress again. With one hand I spread my aching pussy apart and the other stuffed her panties into my sloppy wet slit. Whatever the future held for me would be — I'll ride that wave when it gets here. Right now, I'm going to ride the wave that's right in front of me and cum so fucking hard I can barely remember my own name.