Therapy

It got worse. After reading a few stories about my fantasy, it got wild. By that time it was occupying my mind more often than it should be. Sure it was a hot fantasy, it made me always wet and so on, but I thought it was time to give it a break. But how? Talking with my family about it? No! Talking with my friends about it? Also no! So what should I do?

If I wasn't in that fantasy world I tried to find out how to control it. I checked newspapers, magazines and also the internet. I didn't want to discuss it in a forum. I was too embarrassed to do that. For weeks I searched for a solution to my problem.

One day I suddenly found an advertisement in one of the newspapers. It read as follows:

“New opening: Doctors' office for behavioral therapy.

I'm Dr. Schmidt, and I'm the first therapist for unusual behavior related to fantasies in this town. I am 100 % serious and discreet. Doctor-patient-confidentiality is guaranteed. So my patients can be assured that I will not tell anyone else about things said in my rooms. You can feel 100 % safe when you are working with me. If you need help with any problems you can always contact me to make an appointment.”

The advertisement also included a phone number, an e-mail address and the address of his office. At first I just put the newspaper aside and made a coffee for myself, but while I sat and drank my coffee I started to think about this advertisement. More and more it sounded good to me. I could talk with someone about my fantasies and that they came too often into my mind. I didn't need to talk with my family or friends. Just one other person would get to know about my fantasies and he would tell nobody about it. He was a doctor, and for sure he knew ways for me to get control of my fantasies.

Later that day I contacted Dr. Schmidt and made an appointment to see him about a week later. That's a long time to wait for something, but as I kept drifting into my fantasy world, the time passed quickly.

* * *

Then the day came for my appointment. I was really nervous standing in front of the building. It wasn't as I imagined. It was a fine building, like a mansion, with a large drive in front of it, and locked behind a huge steel gate. I had expected an ordinary office building, but it was nothing like that.

My knees felt as if they were shaking as I stepped closer. My heart raced and my palms got wet. Somehow it got really hard for me to breathe, and for a long moment I was about to turn around and simply run back home.

‘No, Miriam!’ I told myself. ‘You need that help, so go through with it!’

Next to the steel gate was a panel and as I got closer, I could read the labels for Doctor's Office, Delivery and Family Guests. So this mansion was also Dr. Schmidt's home, I thought. With trembling fingers I reached for the button labelled "Doctor's Office". For a moment I hesitated but then I pushed it. For about two or three minutes nothing happened.

“Yes?” I heard suddenly out of a speaker.

“Uhm.... I'm Miss W. and I have an appointment.” I spoke back.

There came no answer and a few seconds later the heavy gate swung slowly open. It was totally silent as it allowed me into the drive. I gulped down a lump in my throat and entered the drive.

The gravel driveway up to the main entrance of the mansion crunched with every step. As I was about ten steps into the driveway I looked back and just saw the heavy gate fall back and lock with a loud clunk. There was no way back, I thought. But it was also my only choice to find control. So I moved on.

As I reached the big double-winged front door of the mansion it swung open as if moved by ghosts. I expected someone to greet me, but there was no one there. Goose bumps built up on my skin as I climbed the steps up to the door. Carefully I peeked inside. It all looked glamorous, but somehow surreal. I went inside. In front of the main stairs I saw a sign with “Doctor's Office” and an arrow. It would be a good idea to follow the arrow.

It led me to a smaller door at the side of the main hall. It looked heavy and old. Gulping again a little I reached for the handle and pushed it down. To my surprise it swung open very easy and barely without any noise. It led into a very small room which I entered, and I closed the door behind me.

You couldn't call it a room because there was just one sofa on one side and some boring pictures on the other. In the wall opposite the door I had entered was another, quite similar door with a sign on it. I took three or four steps, and I was at that door and could read the sign.

“Do not open this door until you are called. If it's closed, a therapy session is in progress. Keep quiet, and make yourself comfortable until it's your turn.”

That sounds reasonable, I thought, sitting down on the sofa. If I am going to talk to Dr. Schmidt, I don't want to let anyone else know about my problems. That would be totally embarrassing.

* * *

It was quite boring to just sit there and wait for my turn. There were no magazines to read, or anything else to do. Just those pictures on the walls. My eyes wandered over them over and over again. They didn't seem painted by a famous artist; more like the ones that children would paint by hand. While I looked at them, my mind started to see things in them. In fact, I started to see trash. I saw kitchen waste, bathroom refuse, filled trash bags and much more. It was only my mind that put those things into the pictures. They weren't really there. It was very strange, but I got that familiar tingle in my belly and started to rub my thighs together.

A clicking noise ripped me out of the world I was about to enter again. I looked around to see where the noise came from. Then I noticed that the door to the doctor's office stood slightly open.

Oh? I started to wonder. Is that session over? I saw no one coming out. Perhaps there is a back entrance for people to go out.

“You can enter, Miss W.” I heard a coarse, but also soft male voice from the office.

With a lump in my throat I got up and stepped to the door, trying to swallow it down. My hand was trembling as I reached for the knob and pulled the door further open.

“Please come in.” Dr. Schmidt said, in a friendly voice “I won't bite.”

I entered the office and closed the door behind me. That was the sign for the next client that a new session was running. Still trying to swallow that lump, I looked around the office. It looked more like a comfortable living room with some plants at the windows, furniture in warm colors and  a plushy carpet on the floor. To the right I saw a comfortable sofa with a big armchair and a small table next to it.

Dr. Schmidt was sitting at his large desk on the left side of the room. He didn't looking up and was busily sorting out some documents. He beckoned with one hand for me to sit on a stool in front of his desk. My palms felt wet as I moved over, and while I sat down, I wiped them dry on my jeans.

“So you're Miss W.” he spoke finally to me and looked up. “Or can I say Miriam? I'm really sorry for the delay. Another patient called me for a quick session and I agreed.”

“That's no problem.” I replied, forcing myself to a little smile. “And yes, you can call me Miriam.”

“Nice to meet you, Miriam.” he said with a warm smile, which made me more comfortable. “So how can I help you?”

“Uhm. Well....” I've tried to find the right words but was too embarrassed to tell about. “I've some unwanted thoughts, which are overwhelming my mind much too often.”

“I see.” Dr. Schmidt replied, making some notes. “I can see that it's very uncomfortable for you to talk about those thoughts right now. That is okay. In this session I just want to get to know you a little better. So please relax.”

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

“You're 24?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And you live alone?” he asked further.

“Yes, I do.” I answered truthfully.

“Is it hard for you to live on your own?”

“No, I have no problems with that.” I replied. “At first it was a little hard, but I learned to handle it.”

“That is good to hear.” Dr. Schmidt was smiling at me.

For some reason I started to like him. He was much older than me, but I had always a thing for older men. The grey strands of hair at his temples made him looking very attractive in my eyes. Now I also noticed that the lump in my throat was gone.

Over the next couple of minutes he asked me about my family, my friends, my job and my hobbies. With each answer of me he made his notes, which looked very professional to me.

“Okay, Miriam.” He finally said. “This was our first session. I hope, it wasn't too difficult for you?”

“No, I'm fine. Thank you.” I had to smile at him.

“Good. For our next session I have a little homework for you.” he told me now. “I want you to write down all about the thoughts you mentioned at the beginning today.”

I gulped hard and felt frightened.

“Don't worry, Miriam.” he smiled again, “That's all part of the therapy. Writing them down will it make easier for you than telling them to me.”

“I see.” Again my palms went wet from the idea of having to think about my fantasy intensively and write it down. “Shall I do it in detail?”

“The more you tell me, the better I can help you.” Dr Schmidt told me. “Our next session will be in one week from now on. So you'll have a plenty of time to do your homework.”

“I understand. Then see you next time.” I replied and reached my hand to say goodbye.

His grip was hard but not too hard. I also felt a thrilling chill running down my spine as he touched me. Now I was looking forward to our next session. With a little smile on my lips I left his office.

* * *

During the following week I wrote down everything that came in my mind about this fantasy. Often I found myself with a vibrator in my holy tunnel, while I thought about it. It was strange, but sometimes I imagined Dr. Schmidt in those daydreams. He was so attractive that I couldn't get him out of my head any more. I looked forward to our next session, but I also feared it.

* * *

Finally it was the big day of revelations. Today Dr. Schmidt was going to find out about the fantasies. I was excited and frightened at the same time. Also, I wanted to make a good impression to him. I don't know why, but something deep inside shouted at me to tease him a little. It shouted to show more leg. I couldn't stand those shouts and decided to wear a knee long skirt and a tight T-Shirt. It wasn't too bitchy, but also not as prudish as the last time.

This time I didn't have to wait in the small room with the pictures at the wall. The door to Dr. Schmidt's office stood already open, as I entered the room. I felt a little tingle in my belly as I entered the office and saw Dr. Schmidt sitting in the armchair. He was smiling warmly at me and stood up to greet me. Again this hard, but nice pressure of his hand. Somehow I felt my heart was melting.

“Hello Miss W.” he greeted me. “I'm sorry, Miriam. Please take a seat.”

“Hello Dr. Schmidt.” I greeted him back with a cute smile and sat down on this comfortable sofa.

“So did you done your homework?” he asked me with a curious sparkle in his eyes.

“Yes, I did.” I answered and took my bag to grab the papers out of it. “I've wrote a lot about those thoughts, mostly about those points, which are the first that come into my head.”

“That's good.” Dr. Schmidt said as I handed the papers to him. “Please make yourself comfortable. You can just sit and lean back, or you may lie down. It's up to you.”

I decided to just lean back and wait for our session to start. Dr. Schmidt offered me a cappuccino to get more relaxed. Of course I took that offer. For a few short minutes he left his office and came back with two steaming cups, a cappuccino for me and a coffee for himself.

He took a little sip of his coffee, before he took my notes, leaned back in his armchair and started to read. My heart was racing now. At any moment I expected some comment from him, like that I must be crazy or something, but the whole time he didn't say a single word. He just read what I wrote down about my fantasies, and while he did that he looked up at me several times.

His silence and the eyes on me drove me almost crazy. I didn't know what to think or to do. I couldn't stop wondering what he might think about my fantasies. He made some smacking noises with his lips, and I saw them forming silent words. Without a single noise he spoke all the words I wrote down. I knew that because I felt myself slowly drifting into the world I wrote down for him. My palms got wet, I felt the unmistakable tingle in my belly, and had to lick my lips several times to keep them wet.

Each time Dr. Schmidt looked up at me, I felt as if his eyes were stripping off my clothes. I felt them on my legs and somehow I pulled my skirt further up to show him more. Next time he looked up, he noticed that I had pulled my skirt up. I felt his eyes on my thighs and darting at the spot between my legs, which was still covered by fabric. Did he know that I was wet there?

“Well....” He spoke after a sheer endless time, “That was really interesting, Miriam. And you're really as fascinated about that?”

“Uhm, yes.” I replied and felt myself blushing bright red. “It comes into my mind a bit too often for my taste. And that's my problem with it.”

“I see.” he rubbed his chin, his eyes wandering over my exposed legs again. “I have to confess, it's the first time I've had a patient with such wishes.”

“Can you help me?” I wanted to know.

“Well, I need a little time to figure out a good therapy for you.” he told me, “How often do you have those thoughts?”

“Daily.” I answered truthfully, “Sometimes even several times a day.”

“And what does it to you?” he wanted to know. “Do you just think about it?”

“Well, no.” I replied, “I'm very often... playing with myself, if you know what I mean...”

“I see.” he smiled at me. “Don't worry. Nobody will get to know about it. This time I won't give you an appointment for the next session. I need some time to think about it, and to create the next step of your therapy. Please wait until I call you. Then I'll give you more information.”

“I understand, Dr. Schmidt.” I replied and while I sat up, I pulled my skirt back down.

'Wow. That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.'

“You have my number?” I asked him.

“Yes. In the next couple of days you'll hear from me.” he said and he stood up to say goodbye.

I had longed for his strong grip on my hand and perhaps bit too eagerly I hurried to offer him my hand. He noticed that and smiled at me. This time his grip was a bit harder than the first time. I moaned a little, and I couldn't help imagining him grabbing at other parts of my body.

“I will looking forward for your call. Thank you!” I told him, and left his office after he released my hand.

* * *

Over the next few days I had almost no time to think about my fantasies, or even Dr. Schmidt. I had a lot of things to do, and in the evenings I was often so tired that I just ate and showered before I fell into my bed to sleep. During those days I couldn't tell you anything about my dreams. Sometimes I can remember some parts of my dreams, but I just couldn't.

It was like a little surprise when Dr. Schmidt finally called me. He told me that he had a good idea for my therapy, and he didn't want me to come to his office for our next session. He told me an address and a time a few days later for our next session. I didn't know where it was, but I was happy to continue my therapy. My hopes rose that I would finally get some control over my fantasies.

* * *

The day came and I felt barely enthusiastic about the coming session. Now was Dr. Schmidt again in the focus of my thoughts. I remembered his hard squeeze of my hand, and the way he looked at me while he read about my fantasies. Just those thoughts gave me a strong tingling in my belly.

I decided to dress a little sexier than the last time. My skirt was very short, so that I showed much more of my legs, and if I bent down, he could see my panties. I chose a cute blouse, which I fastened with a nice knot below my breasts. That gave me a nice cleavage. Somehow I decided to wear panties and no bra. It was harder to decide what sort of shoes to wear. Since I didn't know where Dr. Schmidt wanted to do the session with me, I decided to just wear ankle socks and sports shoes.

Dressed this way, I left my flat and called a taxi. This was the best way for me to get to the address he had given me. When the taxi arrived, the driver had a good look at me and gave me a whistle of approval. I got into his car, smiled and handed him the note with the address.

“Okay, Miss.” he said, “But that's a long drive. I hope you've got enough money with you. If not.....”

He didn't finish his sentence, but the way he eyed my curves in the mirror, I knew exactly what he was suggesting. It was just as well that I had been to the bank to fetch a good amount of money.

“Don't worry.” I told him, “You'll get your money.”

“Good! Please fasten your seat belt.” he grinned at me, “Safety first.”

I did, and soon we were on our way to my next therapy session. It was truly a long way. He drove me to the other end of the city. The buildings got smaller and somehow they looked a bit dirtier. Slowly the image changed as industrial buildings started to surround us. I started to get a bit concerned. Had Dr. Schmidt given me the correct address?

Eventually the driver turned into a sort of back alley of a huge industrial building. There was a lot of dirt on the floor, and there were trash bags beside a fence. Suddenly I spotted Dr. Schmidt leaning against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette. He wasn't wearing the suit he usually wore during our sessions in his office. This one was more casual. A leather jacket, jeans and a pair of heels. The driver stopped next to him.

“I will pay for this.” Dr. Schmidt told the driver as I prepared to take my wallet out of my pocket.

My eyes got wide when I saw him handing the driver a wad of notes. Why was he paying him so much?

Dr. Schmidt opened the door for me. I unfastened my belt and let him help me to get out of the car. Then he lent down and silently spoke a few words to the driver. He earned a nod with a big grin, which made me shiver. Then the driver accelerated  and soon his car was out of sight.

“Hello Miriam.” Dr. Schmidt greeted me now. “It's nice to see you again and as I can see, you're dressed to tease me a lot more than in our last session.”

I blushed at his words. Was it really as obvious that I wanted to tease him last time? He chuckled a little.

“Don't worry, little Miss.” he said. “You know, discretion is a important part of my job. Even the taxi driver will have forgotten all about you.”

“Oh? But why?” I wanted to know.

“It's a part of your therapy that only the two of us know where you are.” he told me. “Please follow me now. I've prepared something for the next step of your therapy.”

Somehow I felt a cold shower running over my back as I heard his words. Something deep inside screamed at me to turn around and run home.

'No, Miriam.' I told myself. 'This man is your only chance to get control. He's a professional therapist. There is no reason not to trust him.'

Nervously I followed Dr. Schmidt through the alley. I looked around, but no one else was there to see us. The large industrial building we wandered by seemed disused. Some of the windows were broken and a bird flew out of one of them.

Dr Schmidt led me around a corner of the building, into a much smaller alley. It was much dirtier than the other one and I imagined rats running around during the night. Then Dr Schmidt told me to stop. I looked at him with a questioning expression on my face.

“Here we'll do our next session.” he told me.

I was stunned and didn't know what to say. He gave me a small smile while he pulled some papers out of his jacket. I recognized them as the ones I had written the details about my fantasies on. Then he walked over to an almost full dumpster. As he reached it, he bent down to grab a huge black bag. Slowly he came back to me and put the bag into a low cardboard box next to us.

“Are you ready to start?” he asked me.

“Uhm... I don't know, Dr. Schmidt. This place looks so.....” I tried to tell him my concerns.

“Dirty? Full of rubbish? Like a place of disposal?” His questions finished my sentence.

“Yes. I don't know if I can do this, here.” I told him, and I felt a little like a mouse in a trap.

“But that's a part of your fantasies or not?” he asked.

“Sure, but....” I bit my lower lip.

“So where is the problem?” he asked further.

“I feel a little unwell here.” I answered truthfully.

“That's good. You know that's a part of your therapy?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“And you want me to help you?”

“Yes.” I answered again.

“So then you have to go along with my therapy. If you don't want me to help you, you should turn around and leave. Now!”

I stood at my place, staring at Dr. Schmidt. My soul still screamed at me to leave, but something in me wanted to know what would happen next.

“Good. Then we can start.” Dr. Schmidt told me with a smile and spread out my notes on another cardboard box.

“Okay. I read that you think about getting your wrists and elbows bound. Is that right?”

“Yes.” I answered simply.

“Then turn around, and put your arms behind your back!” he ordered.

His commanding tone send a thrilling chill through my body which ended in my belly right above my sex. I bit my lower lip again, turned around and put my arms back. Then I peered over my shoulder to see what Dr. Schmidt was doing. He bent down to his bag and pulled out some lengths of rope. With those he came over to me and started to tie my wrists and then my elbows together. He tied the rope so tight that I had to gasp and felt a strong tension in my shoulders. When he was finished, he returned to the cardboard box with my notes on.

“Let's see...” he said, studying my notes. “Ah! You want your ankles and knees tied up too. Is that right?”

“Uhm... Yes, but...” Again I bit my lower lip, swallowing my concerns down.

Then I felt his strong hands at my ankles, winding a rope around them. He tied it very tight and looked up at my legs. I felt his eyes on my panties and felt myself get wet from that.

“So it's true.” he said while tying my knees together, “It is really arousing you.”

I felt myself blushing at his words. He was right, this situation was arousing me in a strange way. But I also felt so tiny and helpless now, and tried to calm myself down, thinking that this was necessary for my therapy.

“What is next?” I heard him say, and looked over my shoulder to see him reading over my notes again. “Ah, yes. A gag.”

He fumbled in his bag and eventually pulled a large ring gag out. His eyes had a strange sparkle as he stepped up behind me, the straps of the gag in both hands. He lifted the gag in front of my face like others would do, if they want to fasten a necklace on their girlfriends.

“Open up!” He said sternly and I did.

Slowly he pushed the huge ring past my teeth, locking it behind them and pushing my jaws apart. Then I felt him fumbling behind my head to fasten the straps. He pulled a little too hard at the straps so they bit deep into my cheeks. My sex got more moist. I was totally helpless and at my therapist's mercy now. My eyes got wide as I felt his fingers slipping under my skirt and between my tied legs, touching my damp panties. Slowly I noticed my mind shifting into the world of fantasy again.

“That's really arousing you”, he said next to my ear, and pulled his fingers out. “Let's check your notes again.”

I looked over my shoulder to watch him. One part of me wanted to know what he was going to do next, and another part was fearing it.

“Oh, I forgot that point!” he called out and pulled a knife out of his pocket. “I'm sorry, but I can't untie you now. If I do that, the session will take too long.”

My heart beat started to increase as he came over with the knife in his hand. He reached around and I looked with fear down at the sharp tool, that was touching the skin on my belly. I was so frightened. Was he going to stab me? The knife moved upwards and he shoved it below the knot of my blouse. The ripping noise of the fabric gave me goose bumps as he cut through. My blouse swung aside, revealing my nude breasts with my aching hard nipples. Then I felt the knife at my arms as he cut the fabric there. Soon I felt my blouse sliding down on my helpless body.

Dr. Schmidt continued his work at my skirt. It would be easy to open its zipper so he could let it slide down my legs. But he decided otherwise. The knife slid under the fabric and again this ripping noise. My skirt slid down and added itself to the little puddle of my clothes to my feet. My panties were the next. At each side of my hips he cut the thin fabric. My panties didn't slide down because they were trapped between my bound legs. Dr. Schmidt took both ends of my cut panties in his hand. Slowly he rubbed the fabric forth and back between my legs and over my wet labia and yet swollen clit. I moaned into my gag, closed my eyes and leaned my head back. My mind was shifting even more into the world of my fantasy now. It felt so good.

Suddenly he pulled my panties fully away. The fast rub over my clit made me groan aloud. He let my cut panties fall down onto the puddle of clothes at my feet

“Sit on my shoulder!” he ordered now, and I felt the leather of his jacket at my backside.

Slowly I rested my weight onto it. Then I felt one of his arms winding around my lower legs before he lifted me up. I looked down and watched him unlace my shoes. He slipped them off my feet, followed by my socks. Then he sat me back down on the ground, my feet on the puddle of my clothes.

'Oh God! I'm nude in this dirty alley!' I realized now, 'If anyone passes, he or she could see me! This is going a bit too far!'

I wanted to tell Dr. Schmidt, but the gag in my mouth prevented me from doing that. I was so embarrassed. Full of fear I turned my head and saw Dr. Schmidt reading my notes again. On his shoulder I noticed a wet spot. Obviously it was from my wet pussy as I rested my weight onto it. What was going to happen next? I was hoping so much that he would stop at this point.

“Okay. Now I will tie you up into a tight ball tie.” he spoke aloud, and he took two more lengths of rope.

I swallowed hard as he came back to me. There was so much saliva in my mouth, and I felt it slowly drooling out. Dr. Schmidt was pushing me down onto my knees. My feet rested on my backside. All I could do now was look down to watch him tying my calves to my thighs, and moan into my gag. Then he shifted me into a sitting position, pulling my knees onto my chest. Quickly he wound the last rope around my tied up legs and my torso. He tugged at the ends of the rope to make sure, it fitted tightly. I moaned again and felt so tiny now. On one side it was as arousing as hell, but on the other side I was so frightened that I just wanted him to stop this.

“A nice little bundle.” He commented as he returned to my notes. “So what next? Ah, I see. But I'm sorry. I have no toys with me.”

I looked back to him and noticed, he was rummaging in some trash bags, searching for something to use. I got goose bumps just of the idea he would go to shove something out of one of those bags into my wet sanctuary.

“Ah! This may work for you!” he shouted out and showed me a beer bottle and a smaller bottle of Tabasco.

I gulped hard. Was he really going to shove those into my holes? I didn't have to wait for long to get my answer. He came over and lay me down at my side. First he started with the small bottle. He rubbed it's base over my wet pussy lips over and over again, making me moan into the gag. Then I felt it at my backdoor. It was still a little cold, but wet from my juices. Slowly he pressed and twisted the base and then I felt my sphincter giving way. My eyes went wide as I felt the bottle slipping deeper and deeper into my rear opening. I felt it was going to get thinner and knew that only the slim neck of the bottle was poking out.

Dr. Schmidt didn't waste any time. Very soon I felt the cold of the beer bottle at my wet lips. He rubbed it along my wet labia to lube it. I threw my head back and moaned aloud. It was so embarrassing to get dirty bottles shoved into my love holes, but the part of me that loved this fantasy, screamed for him to do it. Suddenly I felt the slim neck of the bottle at my entrance. Slowly he pushed and twisted it into my wet sex. I felt the neck get wider until I felt the widest part of the bottle's body slipping into me. Again I moaned aloud and as the tip hit my cervix, a little scream came over my lips. Dr. Schmidt stopped pushing. My eyes were closed, so I just heard him walking away, perhaps to check over my notes again.

“The next part sounds easy.” He grinned at me and grabbed into his bag.

My eyes went wide as I saw him pulling a large and shiny black trash bag out. He shook it open and slowly came over to me. I shuddered in fear and anticipation. Was he really going to put me inside? Except for my shoes, he took my cut clothes and threw them into the bag. Then he placed it on the ground and folded the edges to create a little black mat. Helpless, I looked up at him and pleaded with my eyes not to do this to me, but he simply came over and lifted my bound body. I was so close to his eyes, I could see that he was enjoying doing this with me.

'Oh god! This man is driving me crazy' I thought. 'But he is going too far. Is this still part of my therapy?'

Dr. Schmidt sat me down on my shredded clothes in the middle of the feared and longed for trash bag. I felt the bottles sliding deeper into my body. The small one disappeared in my backside while the beer bottle was pressing hard against my cervix. Tears shot into my eyes and were running over my cheeks. I breathed hard to try to get comfortable with the pain. His hands let go of my body and I saw them reaching for the edges of the bag. Slowly, so painfully slowly he lifted the sides of the bag until it reached a good way above my head. I shivered and the plastic began to stick to my skin. I looked up to see him peering inside with a wry grin.

“You're looking good in there.” he spoke to me, “Almost as if you belong there.”

Then his head disappeared out of my limited eyesight. I heard his steps in the alley. I hoped so badly that he would stop at this point and free me. But somehow I had the bad feeling that he wasn't done with me. Soon I would find out if my feeling was right.

The face of Dr. Schmidt appeared again. He was grinning down at me and then he threw my shoes in. They tumbled over my bound form and came to a rest next to my body. But Dr. Schmidt still wasn't done. My eyes went wide as he showed me a clear bag with kitchen waste inside. Holding it over my head, he ripped the thin bag open. Slimy fluids dripped onto my hair and slowly flowed down over my head. I grimaced, and pressed my eyes shut. My whole body was shuddering now. Soon the rest followed into my bag and over me. It stuck to my back, my bound arms, my legs, my breasts and in my face. I felt so dirty now, and just wanted a hole to open below me to sink in.

But I was already in a hole and Dr. Schmidt continued his work. More and more trash tumbled into my bag. Mostly old kitchen waste and some refuse from bathrooms. The space between me and the plastic filled very quickly. As I dared to open my eyes, the trash already reached my neck. My whole body was covered in it. Suddenly I felt my body starting to shake from an unwanted orgasm, which made me groan aloud.

“You really belong in there!” I heard Dr. Schmidt laughing at me, “You're so dirty and pathetic. Just look at yourself, bathing in a pile of trash.”

I blinked up at him. Now I really wanted him to stop and get me out. The way he was talking to me made me feel totally worthless. Something clicked in my mind. As arousing as the fantasies were, the reality was different. This was going too far now!

“Do you want me to pull you out and free you?” Dr. Schmidt asked me.

I nodded yes.

“But your notes say that you want the bag tied shut.” he reminded me.

I plead with my eyes. He was looking down coldly at me.

“Answer me!” he ordered, “You wrote it down because you want it?”

I was sure he could see the hurt in my eyes. But he was right. As I wrote it all down, my mind really wanted it to happen. I gave him a weak nod.

Now he smiled again at me and showed me an old banana peel. Gloriously he placed the peel on top of my head.

“You look like trash, you smell like trash and now you are trash!” he said and then he closed the bag over my head.

I heard him using a zip tie to close my prison shut. My heart was about to jump out of my chest. I started to panic because I didn't want to suffocate inside a trash bag. And I never wrote something like that in the notes! Then I heard popping noises around my head, and tiny gleams of light were filling the darkness around me.

“This trash bag looks like all the others in this dirty alley.” I heard him say and I felt him lifting my bag up. “I happen to know that tomorrow the city is going to clean up this place. All this trash will go to a landfill, or perhaps to an incinerator. I suggest you enjoy your last hours as trash. My therapy is done now. I cured you from your fantasy of being a human.”

With that he threw me into a dumpster nearby. Through one of the small air holes I watched him taking his bag and heading on his way home. Hot tears flew over my dirty cheeks and mixed up with the mess inside my bag. Now I just had to wait for the bin men to pick me up, like all the other trash.

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28.04.14