I watched Emily as she squirmed around in the chair in front of my desk, pressing her breasts together so that they all but popped out of the top of her dress. And not to mention her nipples jutting out through that thin fabric. I knew what she was trying to do to me, but I wan’t going to play the game her way. She didn’t know who she was dealing with and if she thought she was going to play me she had another thing coming.

She was incredibly cute—and insanely sexy—as she went through the motions of her little game, though. With her skirt pulled up and her constant lip biting. Don’t get me wrong, I was on the verge of busting through my pants behind that desk, but I wasn’t going to let her know. I’d just play along for a while and see where she was going to go with all of this, all the while imagining her legs splayed out on the arms of that chair she was sitting in.

I wanted to ask her about her father. That was a relationship I was intrigued by, not because I wanted to know about him specifically, but because I wanted to know if he’d ever touched her. I’d had a lot of experience with girls whose fathers or older male relatives had sexually abused them. I knew generally what that type of relationship resulted in for the girls later in life. I wanted to know about the relationship from her perspective, especially since she fit the mold of an abused child.

Most of the girls I had been involved with had serious daddy issues that stemmed from anything from inappropriate behavior from an older male family member to full-on molestation or rape. I wanted to help these girls. I’d always seen myself as a guide to them—helping them with their feelings and molding them into women that experienced their sexual natures as fully as they could. But it didn’t always work out the way I wanted it to. Not in the end, anyway.

I could see glimpses of those types of needs every time she looked up and her eyes lingered on mine. She wanted me to teach her and tell her what to do. She wanted the approval that she had never gotten from her father, or her mother for that matter.

I knew that Amelia was jealous of her own daughter. And I knew that’s why she sent Emily away to a private school. I knew that woman was incredibly insecure and that she was terrified that her daughter would come between us. But there was so much more going on in our relationship that I couldn’t say no to her. She was the only woman I’d ever loved, but she was also the only woman I’d been with who called the shots—some of them, anyway. But I could see that it would be so different with Emily.

“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. She mewed and squirmed as I fucked her, her face buried in the pillows. I paused a moment, hearing rustling outside the door. My eyes rose and there she was—standing in the doorway—her slight frame barely illuminated from the dim light coming from the hall. Her soft white nightgown clung to her wispy body, and her hair hung partially over her eyes. She was so beautiful and I wanted her desperately.

I shook my head, trying to clear it and focus. I adjusted my tie and ran my hand through my hair, bringing myself back to reality. My senses were overwhelmed, and now was not the time to turn into a blithering idiot. I needed to remain in charge of this situation. Emily had just waltzed through my door—practically fucking naked—and I had to keep my wits about me.

She was wandering around my office, looking for a place to put her bag, glancing at the furniture and pretending she was trying to figure out where to sit—and she was driving me insane. She was babbling about the weather being a little chillier than she had anticipated, but she didn't need to say any of that. The way her pert little nipples were standing on end made it obvious. I had tuned out her words—every ounce of my energy focused on her body—and the sight of her movements and the way her dress just barely covered her sent my mind spinning out of control. My thoughts were running rampant with every sexual position imaginable.

When she finally settled into her seat in front of me, I had a clear view of what was underneath that flimsy skirt of hers, and it wasn't covered up. It was smooth, and I could clearly see her slit cutting through her pale skin. The sight made my mouth water.

Thank god I was sitting at my desk. My cock was hard as a rock and wasn't backing down anytime soon. I was going to be bound to my chair for some time if she didn't quit flashing me her pussy and pushing her luscious tits together like that.

There was no doubt she was toying with me, I'm not naive. What she was doing now was fine, but we were going to continue this on my timeline. If she wanted to be fucked, she was going to be fucked. Hard. But not until I had a little bit more of a handle on her—mentally and physically.

"So, Emily, let's talk. I know you're going through much more than a girl your age typically has to go through. What can I help you with?"

She gazed at the ceiling, contemplating what she wanted to say to me, then heaved a huge sigh and leaned back in her chair. The way she flung her body back reminded me of a child on the verge of having a tantrum. The contrast between her child-like mannerisms and her very womanly body was making my dick positively ache.

Finally she spoke, "The house is just so big and lonely. I thought I could handle it, but I don't know what to do. My mother was such a control freak; she had everything organized down to the letter. But I’m just not that good with keeping things running smoothly. I don't know how she did it, especially with her ... habits." She looked bitter as she said this word. I was well aware of her mother's vices.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she went on, “And all of those empty rooms are starting to take their toll. Too many memories associated with those abandoned rooms."

"What kind of memories?" I asked, my cock growing harder with each word.

She looked at me darkly, but said nothing. She looked even more fuckable with that nasty look on her face.

I took a different approach when she remained silent. "We don't have to address everything right now, Emily. But I do hope that one day you will trust me with what’s bothering you—with your … memories."

She nodded, her blonde hair falling in front of her face a little. I wanted to reach across the desk and brush it out of her eyes, but if I did that I wouldn't be able to resist putting my tongue into her mouth.

"Have you thought anymore about selling it and moving somewhere a little more manageable?"

Her face returned to normal and she started to come back out of her shell. We could talk about more mundane things this session—that was fine. But I was going to find out what was floating around that mind of hers, and before long, she wouldn't be holding anything back from me at all.

"Well, yes. I've thought about it quite a bit since you mentioned it at the funeral. I just don't even know where to start with selling a house like that. Not to mention all of the antiques my mother collected. None of it is really my style."

"If you'd like any help with that I'd be more than happy to look into it for you."

"Really? That would be so kind of you. I don't have anyone to help really. I mean there are some aunts and uncles and cousins, but I don't have much of a relationship with any of them, and they all live so far away. Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't exactly trust my extended family. I'm not sure what my mother may have told you, but there have been a lot of ... rough spots in our family relations. I don’t want to speak ill of her, but I know my mother told the rest of the family many things about my behavior, many things which were not true. She had very skewed views of me—like I was some sort of competition.”

I raised my eyebrows at this, although not in an incredulous way, but instead with a knowing acceptance. I knew there was tension between Amelia and her daughter. Her mother was a beautiful woman and wasn't used to being upstaged by anyone, but I had no idea she had told anyone but me about her feelings. From what she said to me they were fears that she tried not to dwell on. Fears that embarrassed her and that she didn’t want to be judged by.

"Well, I don't doubt what you’re telling me. I am aware you and your mother had a very complex relationship." I waited for her to go on.

A thoughtful look came over her, then she spoke, looking me directly in the eye. "I think I would like you to help me sell the house, though. I have no desire to manage a huge piece of property like that. The thought of it is just too overwhelming. I would much rather liquidate and move on. Would you really be willing to help me with all of that?”

"I certainly would. I told you, Emily, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

"How can we get started then? Do you know any realtors you can refer me to?”

"I do. But I’ll tell you what. If you're really serious—and you feel like you can trust me—you can just sign the deed over to me and I will take care of the rest. You don't have to lift a finger. As soon as the house sells, I will notify you, and in the meantime I’ll help you look for a place that is more suited to your lifestyle. How does that sound?" I truly was happy to help, mostly because this arrangement would bind me to her more solidly than we already were.

She smiled warmly. "I would like that very much. Thank you, Max." Then she blushed, and said with an air of playfulness, "I still think I might feel more comfortable in that big old house if I had some company, though. It gets so cold there at night, and while we’re finding me a new place I think it would be good for me to have someone there to curl up with. Someone to keep me warm." She looked straight at me, gauging my reaction. She was a bold little thing.

I chuckled at this, although in my mind I pictured her lying underneath me, sweating and screaming out my name. "How about a dog instead?" I offered with a little smirk, then fidgeted under my desk, adjusting my posture.

"No, I'm allergic. I really do think a man would be better."

She smiled coyly. She was being a lot more direct than I had anticipated. I should have known—having been raised by a woman like Amelia—that she wouldn't be easy to predict. But that’s what made this conquest all the more thrilling. She bit her bottom lip again and looked up at me, waiting for my response. At least she was steering this conversation in a good direction for me to find out some things I needed to know.

“So no boyfriend then?" I asked her, with what I hoped was an expressionless tone.

"Is that really any of your business?" she asked, feigning offense.

Contrary to the illusion that she was trying very hard to create, I didn't suspect that she had ever had a boyfriend or very much experience with a man at all. But I imagined she didn't want me to know that. She wanted me to think of her as a worldly woman, one that would rival her mother in every way. But what she didn’t understand was it was her innocence—her lissome, nubile body that screamed virgin at every twist and turn—that made my cock stand at attention and practically bust through my pants.

I had a sixth sense for untouched pussy and innocence that was desperate to be sullied. To be honest, I wanted her either way, but the thought of my cock being the first one inside her—ripping her little cherry to shreds—had me going wild. It wasn’t just desire now, I fucking needed to rip her apart.

"I think it is my business if we are going to have a doctor/patient relationship. If I am going to be able to help you at all, you have to let me in, Emily.” I replied, using my best psychiatrist tone with her.

"What about if we were to have a different kind of relationship? Then would it still be your business?" she responded, looking up at me with big eyes. This was obviously all a game to her, and my heart was pounding right along with her through every twist and turn that our discussion took.

"Then it would most certainly be my business," I said sternly, without missing a beat. I looked her dead in the eye, letting my darkness bore into her, and letting her know in no uncertain terms who was in control here. Who would always be in control. Her cheeks visibly flushed when she noticed me staring at her and I openly ogled her tits for a moment, letting her see me stare, then raised my eyes back to meet hers. She should know that I was going to take what was mine, and that her games had consequences.

She looked down at her hands, seeming to lose some of her confidence, and nearly whispered, "No, then, I haven't." She looked down at the floor, suddenly being bashful, and I couldn't tell whether this was a part of her act, or not. She looked like nothing but a scared little girl to me.

After unsuccessfully trying to pry information about my own love life out of me, she started biting her nails and I knew that scared little girl I saw a minute ago wasn’t an act. It was a habit of hers I’d seen before, and her obvious nervousness made her even sexier. This newly formed woman, sitting in my office chair flashing me her pussy and pointing her nipples at me had now reverted back to a nail-biting little girl. I couldn’t have wanted her more.

I leaned across my desk and grabbed her wrist firmly, its dainty size and smoothness feeling absolutely perfect under my firm grasp. I wanted to grab the other one and hold them both above her head while I fucked her senseless.

She looked up with a start, but kept her eyes on her hand as I pulled it away from her mouth. She was so close I could smell her fruity lip gloss. I wanted to suck those pouty lips into my mouth and lick every last bit off of them. We both paused for just a beat, my strong hand wrapped firmly around her thin, delicate wrist. I let her feel the power that was present in this simple, seemingly non-sexual act of dominance, that made my desire for her soar.

She let out an audible gasp and her eyes rose to meet mine. “Don’t bite your nails. Your hands are far too beautiful to be chewed on,” I said to her in a deep voice that had taken on an air of sensuality. I didn't sound like a doctor any longer, I sounded like a man who was about to explode all over a set of perfect pink lips. I slowly brought her hand to my lips and wrapped my lips around her finger, looking into her eyes as I did.

My movements were slow and measured, but I had to hold myself back from jumping across the desk, my cock was aching so badly. I didn’t know how much longer I could take this. I needed to own her.

I released her hand and watched her cheeks flush as she looked down. She brought her hands up to her breasts and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, revealing a dangerous amount of cleavage. Her nipples were still covered but everything down the center of her chest was visible. I watched her with interest.

“Do you think I'm beautiful, Dr. Max?" she asked, her voice taking on a sultry tone of its own, one that I didn't even know she was capable of.

I let out a low chuckle, leaning back in my chair now, repositioning myself and cocking my head to the side. I waited a moment before speaking, somehow forcing myself to say the words. "I think you should button your shirt, Emily."

She smiled her sweet, sexy little smile. "It's a little hot in here, don’t you think? This feels much better.”

She undid another button, and her nipples threatened to pop out entirely. Her light pink areola teased my vision ever so slightly, and I let out a deep sigh.

"As you wish. Now, where were we?" I said, trying to ignore the distraction. I would show her that I wasn't a man to be toyed with. I would fuck her when I said it was time, and the build up was assuring that it was going to be spectacular.

"You were asking if I was a virgin, and I was telling you that yes, I am. But I’m ready to not be, Max. I'm a lonely woman in a big, empty house."

"That's not exactly what I asked," I started, but she cut me off.

“It's what you wanted to know, though,” she retorted. Her bratty side was only egging me on.

She scooted forward and leaned toward me over the desk. "You told me yourself, if I needed anything at all, that you'd be happy to help me."

"I think we should wrap things up for the day. Why don’t you come back and see me again next week, and we can start over?” I said evenly, avoiding eye contact.

Emily huffed, and looked at me sternly. I sincerely hoped she wasn’t gong to throw a tantrum in here. I wanted her to wait until she was tied to my bedposts. Then she could huff and puff all she wanted, and I would spank the fuck out of her until she screamed.

She licked her lips, not rising from her chair, and undid another button of her top, her eyes locked on mine.

"Still want me to go?" She asked innocently, as she shrugged out of her blouse. The sheer fabric slipped down her arms and revealed her perfectly round breasts with nipples so erect that I wanted to bite them off.

“That’s enough, Emily.” I stood, walking around to the other side of my desk where she sat topless before me, her untouched breasts begging for my attention, her pussy undoubtedly leaking all over my office chair—the very same one that her mother had occupied many times before.

When I rounded my desk, she was immediately made aware of the imposing tent in my expensive trousers. My manhood strained at the fabric, and when I stopped next to her, my cock was parked at her eye level. I did nothing to cover myself, instead letting her gaze on my massive cock. I wanted her see the magnitude of what she was playing with.

Her eyes widened as she stared at my erection, her lips parted slightly. She looked like a deer in headlights now, unsure what to do with herself.

I grabbed her by the wrist again, gently but powerfully, just as I had before when I had chastised her for her childish habit. I guided her hand to my crotch and she opened her palm as I placed it squarely on my rock hard cock.

"Feel that, little girl?" I growled at her. My professional demeanor was gone, and had been replaced by the animal lust that this girl had initiated and magnified in me until it threatened to take over every ounce of decorum I possessed. I could barely breathe with her shaking hand cupping my throbbing member through my pants. I felt the intensity pour out of me as my eyes seared into hers. She trembled and nodded, letting out a little squeak that made my cock buck under her touch.

"Do you really think you can take all of that?" I moved her hand up and down my cock. She licked her lips, letting her teeth catch on the lower one, then she looked up at me with hungry eyes.

"Yes", she whispered, her voice an octave lower than it had been a minute ago.

“Is that what you want? There’s no turning back if you say yes.” Her eyes were almost terrified now. Filled with a desperation that spelled out just how much she wanted my cock inside her.

“Yes.”

"Yes, please," I corrected her sternly, rubbing my bulge, still clothed in my trousers, against her pale, soft cheek.

“Yes, please.” Her eyes were begging for me to fill her, but she wasn't getting it today—not yet. Although it took everything I had to not bend her over right there in my office, I held back. Now was not the time.

I pulled her out of her chair and grabbed her ass, holding her body against mine. I cupped her face in my hands and intertwined my fingers in her long, beautiful hair. Then I pulled her face in, almost kissing those plump lips of hers, but instead I hovered over her. My lips were so close to hers I could feel the heat pouring off of her in waves. I stayed there for a long moment, keeping her in my spell while her body squirmed against me, crying out for my cock. I pulled her head back and buried my mouth in her neck, licking and sucking it with a force that was merely a preview of what I would be doing to her virgin pussy before long.

I heard a soft moan escape from her throat as she continued to grind against me, tentatively at first, but with a growing fervor. Her bare tits were pressed against my chest, but I made sure not to touch them with my hands. I wanted her little pussy to ache for me, to be screaming for my touch by the time I finally gave her what she wanted.

I backed away from her, and held her at the waist in front of me. "Make an appointment with the receptionist to come back to me on Wednesday." I said.

She nodded, her blond hair tousled in the back. I crossed the room to pick up her purse and hand it to her while she buttoned her dress. She silently took her purse from my hand, then looked up at me, a fire blazing in her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something, but didn't. I opened the door for her slowly. "Don't forget, Wednesday,” I said in a low voice into her ear as she passed me.