Just as she was about to leave, Cass watched him get on his knees and place his hands on his lap, one over the other.
"Anything you tell me to, Cassandra." He followed her every movement, his eyes jumping around her face, looking for any sign of wha...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Clement Müller, right?" The middle-aged man in front of Ent reached out to shake his hand. He took it.
"Um, yes," he spoke awkwardly. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."
"You can call me Thomas."
Thomas pointed toward a two-seat velour couch that faced the desk he was walking toward. Ent took his offer and sat down.
"I'm glad to see you here," he started with a clear monotone voice. "When she said you were against therapy but would listen to her, I've gotta admit, I didn't completely believe her."
Ent cleared his throat to cover a surprised gasp.
"I guess you know more about my situation than I thought."
Humor me, Ent. Go for a month. Four sessions is all I'm asking of you. If you still wanna stop after that, I won't blame you. Merry Christmas.
It was the note in the envelope on his desk. He'd found it on Christmas morning. There was the note and the name and address of this doctor. Thomas Fischer. Kink-aware psychotherapist.
"Not anything specific, she insisted that it was your story to tell. And I agree with her. All I really know is that you were in a Domme/sub arrangement that is over."
"Yeah, that's true," he sighed. His chest was heavy just at mentioning the situation.
The morning he'd woken up in Cassandra's bed without her was over six weeks ago. He'd found the 'gift' a week after she'd left. For some reason, he hadn't believed her when she'd told him she'd get him a Christmas present.
He almost didn't come at all.
"Before we start, I'd like to introduce you to the type of therapy I perform here," the doctor spoke.
Was he a doctor? Ent really hadn't even Googled the guy's face for fear he'd find an excuse to not show up.
"Yeah," he said when he noticed the doctor wasn't speaking.
"It's called Client-Centered Therapy." Wasn't that what all therapy was? "In its most basic form, it means that I will rarely try to guide our conversations to a specific place. I will mostly listen to what you feel ready to talk about and inquire in the direction you lead the topic to."
"Okay."
"So let's start with, what brought you here today?" he asked, grabbing his pencil.
What brought him here today? A bicycle.
"Well, my Do-, Cassandra asked me to come." He took a deep breath in. "She talked about me needing therapy for a while but, at the time, I had her and I felt fine."
That was a flat-out lie.
"No, I didn't feel fine but she made me feel fine after our... scenes. Between them, I wasn't doing well."
