The Therapist

by J. A. Belfield

  A bed the size of a small island dominated the centre of the room on a shallow platform, while around it, ornate chairs had been set as if for a prominent view of the bed-stage.

  Already, a woman lay with her head overhanging the edge of the mattress, her lips parted and arms splayed. From speakers overhead, quiet music seemed to float on the air, but she could still be heard as she groaned out her enjoyment at another woman’s lips clamped over her cunt.

  Still fairly early in the evening, only one spectator seat was occupied, where a man sat glassy-eyed while staring at the show, his hand fisted around the hair of a woman between his knees. Her head bobbed as her lips slid over his swollen cock.

  With his dark blond hair, his face still unlined from age or financial concern, the man could easily have been Chase not so long ago. For a moment, Chase mentally placed himself in the same position. Placed his own gaze on the tongue fucking going on. Placed those lips around his own cock.

  Yes, his shaft thickened at the thoughts. Just not as much as it seemed to whenever he placed a certain ex-client into his fantasies lately.

  A client he had no right to be thinking of then.

  Putting a guiding hand on Mr T’s arm, he gestured for them to follow and continued on toward the open doorway on the far side of the room. Through it, an unlit corridor stretched off into a blackened hole he couldn’t make out, and Chase walked them between the walls until they reached a doorway leading off.

  The couple peered around the frame and into the room. Spiralled carvings decorated the oak arms of a four-poster bed in there, upon which a man lay with the tendons stretched though his neck as he tugged at his cock like something possessed. At the foot of the bed, with his legs sprawled across the seat of a tapestry-covered chaise longue, an elderly guy with loose skin matched him stroke for stroke.

  “The Green Room,” Chase said, though he didn’t need to explain why. All rooms were named by the colour that glowed out from the wan bulbs fitted into each fixture. He stepped back from the doorway. “Shall we?”

  Mr T took a few seconds longer than his wife to turn away from the masturbation scene, glancing back once more, even as Chase motioned them forward.

  The next three rooms also held beds in one form, or another. The fourth had been set up like a Victorian lounge, chairs placed around the room, footstools strategically set before a handful of the seats, an unlit, faux fireplace across one of the walls. On another wall, a full-length mirror had been hung, for those who enjoyed to watch even as they participated, and buckets of ice claimed the space of the few side tables in there.

  “The yellow room,” Chase told them before moving on to the next.

  The next few rooms held sex chairs, fucking stools, whipping stools, an array of pleasuring—and paining—accessories. Most of them waited to be used—waited for more guests to arrive. In one of the rooms, a woman kneeled, her wrists and ankles hogtied behind her, while a man fucked her face hard enough to leave it swollen.

  In the next room along, a woman swung in a sling that’d been strung from the ceiling, her knuckles white where she clung to the suspension ropes. Short, sharp screams erupted from her, in time with the pistoning hips of the man fucking her. And in time with the grunts bursting free from his throat.

  Jones. Chase would recognise that flexing arse anywhere. And the tattoos he could see snaking over his back.

  The way Mrs T took a step forward into the room told Chase she’d recognised him, too, from their practice session at his clinic. He suspected the two of them would be seeking Jones out before the end of the night. He just hoped they’d be prepared to face the guy in his own domain.

  “Almost done,” Chase said, catching the way Jones’s head twitched in their direction when he spoke. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

  The bathroom stood on the right, through the next door down. An eight-man hot tub stood central. A woman sat with the water lapping at her nipples, her head resting back against the rim of the tub, while her fingers lazily twirled the stem of a glass. Chase knew the glass would only contain water, though. ‘No alcohol’ was a rule of The Club. Every member had to be lucid and yielding of their own will, not that of any kind of drug.

  In the corner of the bathroom, a shower stall had been set up. Along one wall, a counter held a row of five sinks. On the opposite side of the room, toilets had been panelled in, in case of bodily needs.

  His gaze skimmed back to the woman in the tub. Her hair flowed over the edge, dampened only slightly by the moist heat in the room, but Chase could still see the reddish highlights woven through the blonde strands. Could still imagine those same tones in a different head of hair.

  As if she knew she was being watched, the woman arched her back until her breasts completely broke the surface and those peaks stiffened beneath the room’s air. Chase couldn’t help but stare at them. Couldn’t help but drink in the pale softness of her skin as the water trailed over it, while picturing a different pair of breasts in their place.

  A shot of lust tugged at his cock and flexed his balls at the thought.

  Maybe the evening wouldn’t go so badly, he told himself. He just had to do what he always seemed to do lately.

  Stick a certain female in place of whomever he toyed with.

  For a moment, his mind entertained joining the woman in the tub and doing exactly that. Until the woman lifted her lids and turned toward them, and eyes way too dark to act as Pacific blue locked onto his. She slid a hand into the water, her gaze unmoving as her body rocked enough to set the surface rippling.

  “All guests are strongly advised to cleanse between each activity,” Chase said, turning away from the subtle invitation. “And cleansing after anal sex is compulsory.”

  In the corridor, only two more doorways remained. The one at the very end of the row held a lock that Chase suspected had been secured, as PRIVATE had been stamped across its front.

  The other held no such boundary. Through the widened opening, Chase could just make out the outlines of shapes he recognised through the shadows in there.

  Mr and Mrs T stepped forward, and Chase instinctively followed, until all three stood in the opening and stared into the room.

  “What’s this room called?” Mrs T asked quietly.

  “Sick,” Chase said before he could stop himself.

  She turned to him, her brows arched. “Really?”

  He breathed out a low laugh and shook his head. “No, it’s the Blue Room.” Partly because of the lighting in there, though the bulb cast a gloomy midnight feel across everything in there, rather than offered illumination. Partly because few people left there smiling. It was definitely a room that had to be built up to, which was probably why it stood empty right then.

  “Okay,” he said, steering them away. “Are you comfortable enough to explore alone, or would you like me to accompany you for longer?”

  Mrs T glanced up at her husband, her hand folding over his arm. “I think we’re ready.”

  He peered down at her, and as if she’d communicated something in her look, he nodded and turned back to Chase. “We’re ready,” he echoed.

  “Okay, just remember the rules. Respect everybody here, and everybody here will respect you. Do not attempt to kiss the mouth of anyone wearing a black mask—they’ve made a choice you have to uphold. Cleanse, as suggested. You’ll be grateful you did, come morning. Do not interrupt the activities of other guests unless you are serious about participating, and respect any denials to participate. If there is any equipment you would like to try, but are unsure of its uses, ask. There will always be someone happy to assist—but be prepared for them to want to join you. Remember the safe word—you may need it. And most important of all …” He took a breath and worked up a smile. “Enjoy yourselves. The Club is all about pleasure, after all.”

  “Oh, we will,” she said, taking her husband’s hand.

  Leaning into the wall beside him, Chase watched as the two of them sauntered off along
the corridor. Despite not really being in the mood for the evening’s events, he couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, the tiny hop in their steps that told him they couldn’t wait to dive in and come out wet. Another success on the client front for CW Consult.

  A dark shape stepped from one of the rooms farther along, his head twisting toward where the couple had just passed his doorway. He stayed that way for only a few seconds before turning toward Chase, and his long, muscular legs made covering the floor space easy work with his intimidating strides.

  Reaching Chase, Jones pressed a hand against the wall, propping himself there as he dipped his face the couple of inches to look into his eyes. “Lonely?”

  Chase’s lips twitched. “Not for you.”

  He shook his head and tutted. “Such a picky bastard.” Rolling away from him, he leaned his back against the wall, his chest creating a profile against Chase’s view of the shadows moving about farther along. “Wanna tell me why you look bored here tonight?”

  “I’m not bored,” Chase muttered.

  “Well, you look it, and it’s bad for business.”

  “I’m not bored,” Chase said again.

  Jones turned back to him and stared right into his eyes. “Preoccupied, then.”

  Chase glanced away. Jones’s eyes had a habit of penetrating and burning brain cells without him even having to try.

  “Who is she?” he asked.

  Chase didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. Or didn’t want to have one, anyway.

  “You want to talk about it?” Jones asked.

  With Jones? Chase almost laughed, but managed to curb it as he shook his head. Wasn’t like there was really anything to talk about. Not like he’d been seeing Abi—not in the personal sense of the word. Not like she’d been one of his Toy Box selections. He didn’t even know, himself, why her leaving the clinic had bothered him so fucking much.

  “You want me to fix you up with a good distraction? Got an old friend coming later who loves to be dommed.”

  He thought back to the last two girls he’d released from his private room. How quickly he’d grown bored of them. How much his head had argued that they hadn’t been what he wanted. Not anymore.

  He pushed away from the wall, sidestepping Jones. “I’m good,” he promised, and with a slap to his friend’s shoulder, he forced himself in search in of ‘fun’.

  ***

  Back in the Red Room, Chase watched the comings of the members in there like some kind of fucking wallflower afraid to bite the bullet. He’d stepped into almost every room since shrugging off Jones, and had felt out of place in every one of them, as thoughts he had no right to be thinking, and definitely didn’t understand, rampaged through his head and distracted the fuck out of him.

  Over the past few months, he’d lessened his visits to The Club because he’d found entertainment enough in the women he hand-selected for his own personal amusement. As he’d perused the offerings of the evening, he had to wonder whether his usual happy place still held the appeal for him it once had, at all.

  How the hell could one person change so much in so little time? And without a fucking good reason?

  From his spot near a table of water glasses, he sipped on one of his own, holding the fizz in his mouth before swallowing, while some guy with a chest like a concrete slab rammed his cock into a wailing woman on the bed-stage. Her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress. Through the gaps in her mask, he could see her eyes tightly closed.

  He glanced around at their audience. The same man who’d been sat there when he’d first arrived still claimed his same spot. Chase recognised him from earlier club visits and knew he had a preference for the shows other members put on. During that particular performance, muscular thighs supported the kneeling body before him, a definite male head replacing the female one of earlier and bobbing over the man’s cock as he sucked like a fucking pro.

  Opposite him, a woman bounced on the lap of some older guy, judging by the slight wrinkles claiming space on his otherwise toned body. With her back to him, she faced the stage, her gaze fixed on the rough screwing of the couple while her tits jiggled like they were trying to break free.

  A few seats across, two women shared a love seat. One sat with her legs spread wide, a foot propped up onto the cushion beside her, an arm pinning the other woman back against her chest as her fingers fucked in and out of her cunt. The one getting the best deal jerked into each stroke, her juddering chest prodding her hard nipples up into the air, while her fingers grasped at the armrests either side of her.

  Chase cut his gaze back to the couple on stage, as the woman’s wails deepened into the kind of cries that could clench his balls without them even having to be touched.

  Sure enough, his cock stirred with the biggest interest it’d shown all night. Even more so at the way the woman rocked back and forth with each thrust of the man’s dick into her from behind. Her head lifted toward the roof, heavily-painted red lips poised around the sounds spilling from her. Lips poised in the perfect shape for him to climb up there and cram his own cock straight into her mouth.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered, and setting down his glass, he trod a path for the stage.

  Almost as though she sensed an approach, the woman up there dipped her head, her eyes opened, and as her sights settled on him, her tongue swept over her glossy lips as they curved into a smile. The eagerness in her expression almost had him turning right back around and ducking out. He didn’t want someone only interested in putting on a show. When he shared his cock with another, he needed their grunts and screams to be real. Not to feel like he’d just been fucking manipulated into his decision.

  Nearing the two steps leading to the bed, he considered climbing them, anyway. Fuck how he usually felt. Because how he’d been feeling lately wasn’t anywhere bloody close to his years-old reception to fucking and fun. He should just throw himself up there and fuck her mouth swollen. Fuck her throat ‘til she could scarcely breathe. Remind himself of who he was.

  Instead of lifting his foot, though, he swung it right past the steps. And kept right on, for the love seat and the two women who seemed to be watching his approach from beneath their heavy lids.

  Reaching for the back of the seat beside the women’s shoulders, he leaned in close, his hand folding over where those fingers pumped in and out of that cunt and stilling them. “Want to find a room?” he asked, quiet enough that only they’d hear, just loud enough to breach the music that’d shifted to some weird techno shit.

  They studied him. Gazes dancing over his face. Down his body. Lingering where his stiff cock told them of his interest. The one in front tilted her head to the side as the other’s lips met her ear, her focus skimming back up to his face as she listened. Removing the fingers from her pussy, the first woman pushed to her feet, giving Chase his answer, and as she took his hand, leading him away, the second woman latched onto his other hand and the three of them made for the corridor.

  It took four attempts to find a bedroom not already claimed. The one they slunk into had no ceiling lighting. Only tiny specks glowed out from the black walls, leaving the room a shade of midnight with a starlight effect. Low visibility was exactly what Chase probably needed right then. Maybe if he couldn’t see so well, he wouldn’t visualise. Maybe he just needed to feel to go with the flow.

  A flat square bed, as low as a futon, had been set in the centre of the room, and the women guided him to there. He did a quick assessment of the first woman as she swung to face him and sank down onto the bed. Cropped, spiky hair that feathered up and out around the red mask she wore. Nipples, two dark circles that stood out against her pale, slender body. As she lay back, she pulled him down with her, until he fit against her side, and in turn, he drew down the other woman until she lay opposite him.

  Long strands, almost black in the shadowed space, draped over the fleshy tits that pointed up at the two of them. She also wore a red mask—Chase wondered why he hadn’t noticed that sooner. So lo
ng as they both understood what his black mask meant—he didn’t need any complications.

  Short-haired woman peered up at him. “How do you want us to play?”

  For a half-breath, he considered gliding a hand along her body. Seeing if that skin felt as soft as it looked milky. He got no further than a twitch of his fingers, and instead, gripped hold of her thigh, rolled her toward him, turning her back to her companion. Once he’d got her on her side, he lifted the same thigh high until her legs split and her pussy poked out. Repositioning himself, he could see the glisten of anticipation weeping from her cunt.

  Weaving his other hand into the long hair of the other woman, he tugged at her head, until she took the hint and followed his guidance toward the wet opening. He pushed her face between her companion’s thighs from behind, and she gazed up at him from the front, as if awaiting further order.

  The short-haired woman went to reach down, but Chase’s order of, “Do not move,” had her stopping.

  Turning back toward the other one, he gave a gentle nudge to her head. “Drink from her.”

  She did as commanded. Her lips opening wide, before she clamped them over the awaiting pussy, and the woman before him let out a soft groan. Chase held mouth against cunt for a minute more, waiting until a steady rhythm had been set and the breathy moans kept the short-haired woman’s mouth ever-open, before he untangled his hand from the long strands of hair and lowered the thigh down until it rested over the pussy-eater’s arm. Turning his attention to the one getting all the attention, he took hold of what hair he could, lifted her head until she had little choice but to support herself on an elbow, and thrust his cock between those parted lips.

  He closed his eyes as she opened wide and allowed him fully in. Let out a held breath, when her mouth closed around him and her throat worked, and the cheeks of her mouth suctioned around his shaft.

  He could’ve happily stayed like that. Kept his eyes closed to the view. Just let her mouth give what his cock was craving. Except, like a fucking idiot, he lifted his lids, and his eyes narrowed at the lack of long hair. Lack of long, pale, sunset coloured hair. And he yanked out his cock and rammed it back into until her grunt blasted out around his flesh.