I swirled the caramel colored liquid slowly in a wide mouthed glass—letting the ice cubes clink together—while I stared at what was in front of me on my desk. Amelia's and Emily's files were both spread out before me and I had been pouring over both of them for days. Amelia had never once mentioned her daughter's sexual abuse, and the thought of it happening—especially the way Emily said it did—made my blood boil.

Amelia had always been rather vague about her relationship with Richard, as well as the divorce, and whenever I’d asked her for specifics about his apparent wandering eye—or wandering cock, as she called it—I could never get her to give me any real information. I eventually assumed that it was her insecurities that led to her obsession with him being unfaithful.

Amelia insisted that all men were alike—that they would all eventually cheat and leave her for a younger woman. She put up a wall that was impossible to penetrate—built of jealousy and insecurity and alcohol and the drugs I prescribed for her. And no matter what I did she wouldn’t let me in. She fucked me, but she wouldn’t give herself to me. The only woman I’d ever loved held me at arms length until the day she died.

Throughout my career, I’d set myself up with a line of disposable fuck dolls. Amelia didn’t know anything about any of them. It was a secret I had from her that would have killed her. If she had known it would have been indisputable proof that she was right. That all men were the same. But it wasn’t the same at all.

They meant nothing to me. They were just there for me to use, and for their own therapy. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, for some of them, anyway. All college-age girls who had come to me for my special brand of sexual therapy. Some left here stronger than when they had come to me, but some—the ones that had been too far gone to begin with—didn’t have such a happy departure.

I did the best I could for all of them, though. At least that’s what I’d always told myself. I don’t know if I’d ever have much luck convincing Amelia of that though. Or Emily. In some ways, Emily was even more insecure than her mother had been. Very similar to the girls I’d kept in the house. And I could see how manipulative she was too. Emily seemed to be the perfect blend of the lost-little-girl patients I kept in the basement and of her mother. An irresistible combination that I had to have. I wanted Emily more and more every day, and that was definitely not something I was used to.

Here I was, falling for Amelia’s devastatingly alluring daughter. One minute I had her where I wanted her, but the next I had the unshakable feeling that she was pulling the rug out from underneath me.

My mind kept drifting back to the way she looked up at me that day in my office—her pretty mouth stretched wide while I came down her throat. Then the memory came back again. The memory that kept me hard most nights and that ensured that I wouldn’t be satisfied until I came two or three times down a throat. That’s what the girls in the basement were for.

“Roll over onto your belly,” I commanded. She rolled over, pushing her plump ass up in the air for me. I spit into my hand and rubbed it over my cock, then plunged into her hot, waiting pussy. There she was again, standing in the doorway. Watching … waiting. Emily was always there … waiting for me …

My cock immediately stiffened at that image.

I set my whiskey glass on the table, amidst the files of these two gorgeous patients of mine, and started down the basement steps.

I carefully unlocked the door to the basement, then went down the stairs and passed through a second door, shutting it behind me.

She turned toward me, the chains around her wrists making noise against the poles as she stirred, struggling to assume her proper position as she watched me approach. I carefully removed my belt and dropped my pants, letting my aching cock spring free.

"You know how this goes, my little Lucy."

She nodded, and I stepped forward, grabbing Lucy's long dark hair in my fist and shoving my cock into her mouth without hesitation. Her soft, warm hole welcomed my cock.

She didn't make a noise as my cock hit the back of her throat, just as I had trained her. She took me silently in her mouth, never ceasing eye contact as I fucked her face. She had taken to her training so well, and I knew I'd be sad to see her go. But I could only keep these girls for so long, even when they begged to stay.

I thrust my hips forward before withdrawing almost all the way out, letting her suckle on my head before sliding back in, allowing her to take my length all the way down. The only sound in the basement was the little slurping noises and the soft clinking of her chains against the pole. The restraints she wore were fur covered, so as not to leave any tell-tale marks on her wrists and neck.

I gripped her hair and held her face against my pubic bone, her nose mashed into my pelvis. When I pulled out I could hear her gasping for air—sucking in as much as she could in the precious seconds when I allowed it. Because when my cock slid back down her throat there was no way for her to breathe. I pushed in and held her there—feeling her body stiffen with the need for air—as I came down her throat with a low growl.

When I was finished, I slowly withdrew my cock from her lips. Dots of my white seed mixed with the saliva that was dripping down her chin. I watched her as she snaked her tongue around her mouth, mopping up every last drop. I looked down at her with adoration. My Lucy. It was time for her to be replaced.

While she hadn't been the first, she was perhaps the most willfully obedient of them all. I secured my belt and turned to go. Before closing the door, I called back to her, "I'll be back shortly with your last dinner."

“Last?” The single word that came out of her mouth was hollow and sad.

I latched the door behind me and continued up the basement steps, then entered my living room and flipped the television screen to the security monitor. Lucy popped onto the screen, sitting quietly against the wall with a vacant look in her eyes. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the state hospital.

"Yes, it's Dr. Maximilian Devereux. I'm calling about an incoming patient." I waited on the line for the attending physician.

"I'll be sending you another girl,” I said into the phone. "Yes, her name is Lucy Wells. She'll need to be admitted as soon as possible, preferably tonight or tomorrow morning.“

The physician started in with the usual questions about placement, but I cut him off. "No, I’m afraid you don’t understand. This girl will need to be admitted to the special unit … in the sub-basement.” I listed off the tranquilizers and anti-psychotics she was on, then agreed that it was a shame for such a young girl to need to be locked up in isolation. “I’ve done all I can do. I only hope that someone there can give her the help she needs.” After the arrangements were made I wrapped up the conversation. “That sounds perfect. I’ll have her escorted in tomorrow morning, first thing."

I ended the call and continued to watch Lucy's movements through the monitor, Emily's printed name on her file on the table visible out of the corner of my eye.

* * *

In my office the next day Emily sat across from me, a disturbed look on her face. I couldn't help but think that she looked so much more fuckable when she was pissed off and angsty. She had shown up exactly on time as I had requested, wearing a dark shade of red lipstick, and black high heels with skin tight black jeans and a V necked top that her tits were threatening to spill out of. Her legs seemed impossibly long in the tight pants and I could barely hear her over the movie that was playing in my head. A scene where those long legs were wrapped around me and I was buried deep in that pussy of hers that she had shown me the last time she was in my office.

"I don't think I can deal anymore, Max." Emily sniffed, on the verge of tears. "It's just too much. Everything. It's too much to even think about all at once."

"Tell me exactly what it is that you feel you are unable to cope with. Please, Emily. Give me details. This is exactly why I asked you here."

"The loneliness and silence of the house is killing me. I know my mother and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I never thought she would be gone so soon. It's just, overwhelming. When I talk to my friends they’re all going shopping with their mothers for new college clothes, and here I am, sitting in my dead mother's house not knowing where my life is going at all. I walk through those halls and I remember everything—the good and the bad. To be honest, though, it's mostly bad." Emily got a faraway look in her eyes. "I remember my father, the day he started treating me differently. The things he used to say to me, the threats he used to make. I remember my mother beating me when she found out." She laughed bitterly. "So much to be nostalgic about, huh?"

"I can imagine this is utterly disturbing for you. I just want to thank you for telling me these things." I was working hard to make sure that I had her trust. It was going to be essential in what I had planned for her.

"What about your new boyfriend? Is he not offering the support that you had hoped?" I asked with a cocked brow that I couldn't conceal. I was genuinely interested to hear her response.

Emily glared at me. "Fuck off."

I feigned shock. "Emily. Such language coming out of such a pretty mouth." I smiled at her. "I wasn't trying to be provocative. It’s a question that has bearing on your therapy. We’ve been through this before. I can't help you if you don't let me in."

"I tried to let you in. You missed your chance," Emily snapped. "If you must know, he's not my fucking boyfriend. I got laid, and that was it. Happy?"

"On the contrary. You should know by now that I only want what is best for you. A supportive boyfriend might have been good for you." If she only knew that I would have had the bastard's neck snapped if he’d stuck around long enough for me to identify him.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Well, it didn't work out," she sighed. "Because … I didn't want it to," she added.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” She had an edge to her voice, but her eyes told me a different story. She wanted me to ask. She wanted to tell me exactly what had gone on between them. I could see it in her desperate stare. “I didn’t actually fuck him. I … I couldn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Why do you think?”

“I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea.” I hoped my look of amusement wasn’t as apparent as it felt. I took a breath and turned the conversation around a bit. Now that I knew the truth, and I knew just how much power I had over her, I was going for it. “There is no reason for you to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, Emily. I know that you do, and it pains me to see you this way. I think some time alone with someone you trust would be very beneficial for you right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that some rest and relaxation and the support of someone you know and care about—and who cares about you—might be just the thing you need. I think it might help if you could step away from your life—the house, your mother’s death, and the whole situation you’ve found yourself in—for a little while at least.”

Her eyes started to grow wide as the obvious possibilities filled her head.

"Just listen for a moment, Emily. Don't respond right away. There is a whole world out there, beyond what you can see for yourself right now. There is no reason why a girl as young and as beautiful as you should be locked away in a house all by herself, fraught with worry over things she cannot control. I have a proposition for you, if you're willing to listen."

I wanted Emily to feel that she was in control of this decision, and was glad to see her visibly perk up, sitting higher in her chair with her eyes glued to mine, as she listed to my suggestion. “What's that Max?"

"I think it would be beneficial for you to perhaps take a little retreat. I do have a house in the countryside, about two hours from here. I could take you there this weekend to stay for the week. You could relax, swim, daydream, do anything you wanted.”

She sank back down in her chair and looked visibly dejected. “What's the difference whether I am alone in my dead mother's house, or alone in your damn country retreat?" Emily asked bitterly.

"I didn't say you would be alone.” My voice almost echoed through the silent office. “I would be accompanying you, in case you needed any assistance. I could be as available to you as you needed me to be."

"That sounds like an okay idea, I guess." The elation on Emily’s face was apparent, even though her words made it sound like she had to weigh the pros and cons of a week alone with me. More manipulation. Every time I saw her she practically made my head spin.

Good girl, I thought to myself.

"Very well, then. It's settled. Have your bag packed and I will stop by to gather you late Friday afternoon. We'll take the scenic route to the house, you’ll like the drive. Maybe stop for a picnic and some fresh air. I am willing to bet that a change of scenery and the fresh country air will do you a world of good. Maybe even give you a new perspective on all of these things that have been troubling you."

Emily smiled seductively. “I think you're right, Max.”