Captain Bad
Registered User
- Joined
- Sep 29, 2014
- Messages
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- 3
We barely spoke two words to each other on the drive through the countryside. The feeling that this might be our last chance at living a normal life, or rather, having a relationship together, was as manifest as a third person in the car.
We were 29 years old, just married, and already coming apart at the seams.
Our conversations for the past five months had been bare bones, and sex seemed to be off the table entirely. Saoirse was 5’3 with short bleached blonde hair that fell over her blue eyes beautifully, sometimes. She had a slightly cuddly figure that bounced in all the right places. Thinking about it now, I couldn’t keep my hands off her this time last year. I guess that goes to show that the words you share at the breakfast table follow you to the bedroom at night.
Eh, excuse me. Anyway, we weren’t fucking. And we were barely talking.
‘TAKE A LEFT TO EXIT R115’. The sat-nav filled the silence that Saoirse and I carried around with us.
Saoirse found her on Etsy of all fucking places. A relationship counsellor who promised instant results. Saoirse didn’t believe in conventional counselling, and I kind of agreed with her in this case. We didn’t have time for a series of sessions. We were one vehicular meltdown from a divorce. While I certainly didn’t trust some hippie chick on Etsy to fix us, I wanted to try for Saoirse. She deserved that, at least.
She looked at me for the first time in an hour with those blue eyes that used to sparkle.
“That’s it over there, hun. I remember from the photos online.”
So we pulled into the driveway of this strange house that stood like a gothic shadow in this murky backwoods of Dublin, and before we left the car, we stared at each other for just a moment. This was it. This would either fix us or break us. Whatever this was.
You’d expect a spooky house in the middle of nowhere to look spooky inside, but that wasn’t the case. It was disarmingly normal, if a bit ‘hippie chic’. A young woman answered the door and brought us inside, apologising profusely though no harm had been done. I made a face at Saoirse when the girl left, but she just narrowed her eyes at me. Why was that receptionist wearing a cheap French Maid outfit?
We were eventually led up two flights of stairs to her office, where upon her office door the name ‘Dr. Anna Bloom’ stood out in colourful font, the kind usually found in children’s playrooms.
The French Maid receptionist, or whatever she was supposed to be, took a deep breath before she spoke quietly through the crack she opened in the door. Her body seemed to shake, just slightly. And when she turned to us and smiled ‘Dr. Bloom will see you now!’, she rushed away without opening the door for us.
So, we let ourselves in.
Dr. Anna Bloom sat at her desk, a tasteful antique that blended in with the Old World meets hippie commune feel that she was obviously going for. She took us both in with big green eyes before she even introduced herself. She merely motioned for Saoirse and I to sit before her.
‘Well, look at you two,’ she said in an accent that I instantly clocked as Estuary London, having worked in the city for two years prior to meeting Saoirse, ‘Saoirse and Sam, how fucking cute is that?’
It was strange to hear a doctor (apparently) swear so early into a session, which only added to my perception that this was some voodoo hippie nonsense. I stole a glance at Saoirse, who seemed to be charmed by her.
‘Saoirse and Sam, Saoirse and Sam. That’s fucking gorgeous. Look, I don’t want you to tell me a single thing, okay?’
What? I glanced again at Saoirse, who was still wrapt in the doctor’s words.
‘I want you to just, feel the therapy?’ she cocked her head, and I had no idea if it was an honest question or a statement.
Dr. Bloom stood up from her desk, blooms of red hair falling over a white Scrubs-style shirt that she probably stole from a Halloween costume of a real doctor. She wore a Grateful Dead (yawn) shirt under it, a pair of denim jeans, and oddly enough, black heel boots that made her tower over the both of us. She appeared to be in her 40s, possibly early 50s.
She circled the desk, taking us both in like a chess player eyeing up two challenging boards. The way her eyes seemed to fall on Saoirse as though she were tracing her from top to bottom. Analytical. What the fuck are we doing here?
‘So, what’s the therapy exactly?’ I asked, disguising my concern with a smile. Dr. Bloom perked up as soon as I spoke, and Saoirse rolled her eyes.
‘She was getting to that.’ Saoirse stared up to heaven. I’d better keep my fucking mouth closed, I thought. Just go with it, do it for Saoirse.
‘I’m actually so glad you asked that, Sammy Sam.’ Dr. Bloom stopped behind my chair and began to tap a set of long red fingernails on my shoulder. Oh, that made Saoirse uncomfortable alright. I drank that one in.
‘My methodology is abstract, unusual, unique, and contains something of a shamanic quality. Which you’ll find out for yourself very, very soon.’ She took a long nail and tickled under my chin to emphasise each ‘very’.
Saoirse seriously did not like that, but I could see her swallow it down.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a kind of porn set-up coming from the mind of some sick, venal freak on a kink forum, but I decided to just let whatever was going to happen, happen.
‘So, when do we begin?’ Saoirse forced a smile at the doctor, who was now standing right behind her like a bird of prey over a tiny barn mouse. The doctor looked Saoirse up and down once again, before saying, “as soon as we get to my office.”
“I fucking knew it! Come on Saoirse, fuck this.” I shook my head, laughing at this bizarre room that had just opened up before me. The lights fell tinted red over chains and other ridiculous BDSM contraptions that took up all the space in the room, a torture chamber owned by some ridiculous nympho hippie pretending to be a doctor. If it wasn’t kind of funny, I’d have completely lost it. Saoirse appeared to be just as let-down as I was, but as her eyes traversed around the room, I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind.
‘Come on, Saoirse, let’s go.’ I grabbed her by the hand and we began to walk away from Dr. Bloom, who simply stood in the door of her red torture room and waved playfully at us. As though she’d seen this play out a thousand times before.
Saoirse stopped in her tracks as we made our way down the hallway and she took both of my hands, her hands so small against mine, and she looked up at me before sighing.
‘I think we should just go for it, Sam, whatever it is.’
‘Jesus Christ, Saoirse, do you think this is real therapy?’
‘I…I don’t know. I just know I want…’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to go back to how things used to be between us, and I don’t know if we’re strong enough now to go on much longer.’
Saoirse said exactly what I had been thinking, but it made me sick to hear it from her mouth. She looked to be almost pleading with me, but Saoirse was never one to plead. Well, I’d never seen her plead before, until that day.
My head seemed to drop off my shoulders and I looked up to the ceiling.
‘Okay. Fucking. Okay. Let’s do this weird thing, but I’m only doing this for you, Saoirse. So remember that.’
She squeezed my hand before we both turned to Dr. Bloom. Together, as a couple…trying.
And that evil bitch stood in the doorway with a smile on her face like I’d never seen on a woman before.
‘Yippie’ she clapped her hands, ‘now, let’s have a look at you. Off with your clothes, my sweeties.’
Saoirse and I sat on bench like something you’d find in a college changing room, and I’d be lying if my eyes didn’t catch parts of her that excited me again.
I kicked off my trainers and watched her untie her converse before pulling off each, her feet were tiny compared to mine, and her pink socks almost seemed juvenile considering the situation we were in. I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse to reveal that slight tummy that I had loved so much, and the bra that cupped her breasts that I’d spent so many nights practically attached to. Her thighs that had warmed me so often.
Dr. Bloom was watching us get undressed, and she was doing nothing to hide her eyes that darted from me to Saoirse. She was loving it, and I wondered who exactly this therapy would benefit at the end of the day.
It wasn’t long before I was in nothing but my very basics, and when I was about to pinch the hem of my sock to take it off, I felt Dr. Bloom’s fingernails once again upon my shoulder.
‘Oh no, no. I like to take them off myself.’ She smiled at us, and I could tell Saoirse found that as unnerving as I did.
And so there we were, my wife standing in little more than ridiculous pink ankle socks and her underwear, and I in my own.
Dr. Anna Bloom was circling us again, taking in every inch of our bodies with her eyes. I would, again, be lying if I said I didn’t kind of like the way she looked at me. But that same look thrown over Saoirse’s body filled me with something like jealousy, but more.
After a while, Bloom spoke.
‘Okay, sweeties. Let’s get underway shall we?’
It went from zero to ninety in a matter of seconds. I found myself handcuffed with my arms above my head on a black table that, in something approaching irony, looked a bit like a therapist’s couch. I couldn’t see what had become of Saoirse until Dr. Bloom returned to my table, hearing her heels clicking first, and with the touch of a button the table slid out like some sick ironing board – and I was now in a standing position.
And there was my beautiful bride, like I’d never seen her before. The blood rushed to my head and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or…something else…but seeing her with her arms chained above her head and her feet trapped in some Medieval device – it definitely made me feel something.
‘Oh don’t be so mad’ Dr. Bloom teased, she tickled under my chin again and I tried to shake her away, ‘she looks gorgeous, right?’
She did look gorgeous, but I wasn’t used to seeing her so vulnerable. And I don’t think she was used to seeing me like this either, as was apparent in the squint she gave me, as if to say ‘uh-oh’.
Dr. Bloom seemed to skip over to where Saoirse sat in bondage.
‘Ooooh she’s just so available to me.’ Dr. Bloom chirped, poking Saoirse’s ribs a few times which made her jump uncomfortably. ‘I’m going to make her just a little bit more available’ she said, pinching the end of Saoirse’s silly pink sock and peeling it from her foot, all the while smiling right in her face.
I didn’t know where to look or what to say or what we were even doing here, but I began to piece things together as Bloom peeled the other sock from my wife’s foot, making them bare, and available.
‘Oh but she’s not done yet,’ Bloom winked at me before pulling a white fabric from her fake fucking doctor’s coat. She began to tie a blindfold around Saoirse’s eyes.
‘Okay, this is enough. What the fuck are you doing?’ I called out to Bloom, almost hoping she’d leave Saoirse alone, who was beginning to look uncomfortable. Her blonde tufts of hair sticking out over the blindfold.
‘Excuse me, I’m working here,’ Bloom replied.
The doctor took a step back to admire her work and I found something I didn’t like in her smile now.
‘What’s your favourite colour, Saoirse?’ Dr. Bloom asked, opening up a black briefcase on some random piece of dungeon furniture.
Saoirse cleared her throat, almost frozen in discomfort, her hands so high above her head, clinging to the chains that held her.
‘I like…pink.’
‘Oh so girly, Saoirse. I didn’t cop you as a girly type, but then your socks were a dead giveaway’ Bloom smiled, before selecting something from the briefcase, and slowly pulling out a long, pink feather with a tip that seemed sharper than a nail.
‘What’s this? What the fuck is this supposed to- ‘ I complained, realising that my young wife had no idea what was happening. Dr. Bloom shushed me, before planting the tip of the sinister pink feather right into the centre of my wife’s soft armpit.
The moment seemed to play out in slow motion. I watched Dr. Bloom’s predatory eyes watching for some sign, waiting for my wife to yield to her. I saw Bloom’s hand, her thumb and index finger pinching the shaft of a feather, her wrist bending as she guided the tip to dance in the armpit of my wife, flesh that was so open and vulnerable that it was as good as canvass for the doctor’s sick plans.
And then I saw my wife’s lips. Straight at first, before the bottom lip began to quiver. Those lips that had been pressed against mine so many times. They parted into a smile that wrinkled her nose, and then it came. Saoirse began to laugh.
‘Oh yes, very good sweetie, you just let it all out now.’ Bloom seemed pleased with her patient as the feather tip drew circle 8s in her armpit. Saoirse threw her head back and her toes began to curl. She was speaking through her laughter but I couldn’t make any of it out. I’d never heard her laugh like this before, the ‘hah’s escaping her fully-formed.
‘Let her out, she doesn’t like it for fuck sake!’ I shouted at Bloom, who shushed me again, too busy at her infernal work. Bloom didn’t seem to care if she liked it or not, this was all a part of her therapy.
‘That’s so good, Saoirse, you keep laughing honey. Oh Sam seems so worried, not that you can see for yourself’ Bloom laughed, before she added the fingers on her free hand into this sick therapy that was tormenting my bound wife. I was full of anger at first when I saw those long red fingernails intruding on Saoirse’s soft, white skin. Playing her ribs like a piano. Watching this evil woman drink in my wife’s helpless laughter as both feather and fingers found purchase from armpits to her ribs.
‘Do you like what you see? Sam?’ Bloom stared me right in the eye. She seemed almost still as a statue standing behind my blindfolded wife who thrashed and laughed at her every touch.
‘Can I hahahahah have a breahahah break? Saoirse just about managed through heaving laughter, but Dr. Bloom wouldn’t relent. Her fingers working in tandem with that fucking feather that teased Saoirse’s petite body.
‘No sweetie, we’re just getting started on you, honeybunch.’ Bloom said into her ear, before scribbling her fingers on Saoirse’s tummy, making her explode into laughter.
I tried to test my bonds, but it was no use. I couldn’t help her, and watching her laugh so helplessly and seeing her in such a vulnerable position, it made me angry. And also, something else.
Her mouth was open wide with laughter, and I could see moisture appearing on her cheeks. She couldn’t move an inch, and no matter how hard she tried to dance away from the feather and those intrusive nails, it was no use. She was like a doll being played with.
Dr. Bloom placed the feather between Saoirse's toes for safe-keeping before using both sets of nails to wreak havoc on her. Bloom’s hands seemed to work up and down Saoirse so quickly that they appeared like blurs on her skin. This woman who I had loved, who I now felt so protective over, but could not protect.
‘Hahahahaaaaaah! Please stop! Please! Please! Pleaahahahaha!’ And there it was. I’d never heard Saoirse plead for anyone or anything, but there it came like water from a spout. So easily done.
‘Oh look at you, you little baby.’ Bloom smiled, relenting for a moment. She dragged her nails down Saoirse’s leg, all the way to the wooden stocks that held her tiny feet.
‘I think I could do with a change of scenery though’ Bloom smiled, before pinching each of Saoirse’s toes in a mock game of ‘This little piggy’. Saoirse began to whimper as Bloom’s nails journeyed from one toe to another, before finally drawing a terrible streak down the sole of her foot, all the way to her heel.
‘Please don’t! I’m bad, like! Anywhere but there!’
‘Oh but this is exactly where I want to play with you.’ Bloom smiled at me as she spidered two fingernails up and down Saoirse’s bare foot, ‘does it tickle that much?’
Saoirse began to giggle quietly, but I could tell it wouldn’t be long before Bloom had her exactly where she wanted her.
‘Coochie-coochie-coo’ Bloom whispered, sliding the feather from between her toes and applying it expertly to Saoirse’s other foot. The pink tip never once faltering as it cruelly danced upon her tender, soft foot sole.
‘Ah hah hah hah hahaahaha!’ Again, Saoirse threw her head back and her breasts heaved with her laughter. Bloom worked mercilessly on her feet, pinching each tiny toe to make room for the feather to slide through. Saoirse was sweating now, her mouth was probably sore from laughing, but yet Bloom still found ways to extract that laughter.
The doctor held back her toes and scribbled the feather like a quill on Saoirse’s foot, and she teased her sadistically at every chance with ‘does that tickle?’, ‘oh I bet it does’, and most bizarrely, that old fashioned babytalk of ‘coochie-coo’.
By the time Bloom was finished, Saoirse was completely spent. I watched as Bloom pulled the blindfold from her and looked into her eyes with a satisfied glare, like someone who had just finished a meal. Unfortunately for me, that was only the first course.
‘Did you like that?’ Bloom teased her, stroking the feather under Saoirse’s chin, ‘Oooh, but now I get to play with the hunk, don’t I?’
Saoirse did not like that one, fucking, bit.
‘You leave him the fuck alone or I swear to god I’ll box the head off ya you stupid bitch!’ Every ounce of inner city Dublin rage poured out of Saoirse in that minute, and I’d heard an accent out of her that I had not heard in a long time.
‘Oh shut it,’ Bloom said, before gagging Saoirse with the blindfold. ‘You’re going to like this, maybe?’
Bloom stepped over towards me, one foot in front of the other, almost dance-like. Everything felt like a dance in this place. She got right up into my face and I could feel her breath on my neck.
‘What’s your favourite colour, handsome? I sure hope it’s pink.’ She whispered in my ear, and then I felt it. That feather tip that I had seen torment my wife from her neck to her toes, it was now circling in my exposed armpit.
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Not at first, of course. And so I stared her right in the eyes.
‘Ohhhh, the big man doesn’t have any giggles for me today?’ she said, before spidering those red nails from my bellybutton to my chest, and then down again. ‘I bet he does.’
My lips quivered and I shook in my bonds as she worked the feather in my armpit, down my sides, and circling around my bellybutton. Over and over again.
I tried to resist, and when I caught Saoirse looking so concerned for me, I tried even harder. But when Bloom’s long nails found the hollow of my other armpit, I simply collapsed into laughter. It was no use. The bitch got me.
I cried with laughter as she cooed and giggled in my ears, both of her hands working up and down my body. Squeezing my sides, counting my ribs, and digging into my armpits with such speed that I could never fully acclimatise to one feeling.
‘Oooh I like him, Saoirse, I might keep him here for myself.’ She winked at my wife while I heaved with laughter, my muscles tensing in my bonds. Dr. Anna Bloom was not a big woman, but she was wielding all the power here, and she knew it.
The doctor tapped her nails on the abs that were just beginning to peak out after months of fitness training, and she pulled my underwear slightly down my hips to create more tickling canvass on my lower abdomen. I was already crying with laughter by this stage, which pleased Dr. Bloom to absolutely no end.
‘Awwh look, I made him cry faster than you, Saoirse.’ She chirped, those evil fucking nails finding every crevice and inch of sensitive skin on my upper body.
‘Let’s see now’ Bloom smiled, before pressing a button and adjusting my bondage device back into a table. I was suddenly lying on my back and staring up into the green eyes of our captor and torturer. I bent my head to follow her as she slithered to the bottom of the table and began to run her nails down my socked feet.
She addressed my wife again, ‘Hey, Saoirse. You know what they say about a man with big feet?’ Saoirse tried to spit out her gag, but it was useless.
‘Now let’s see how the big tough man reacts to this’ Her voice was almost musical as she pinched the toes of my socks and peeled them from my feet, clicking her tongue as she made them naked before her.
‘He must have a pretty sweet cock, huh?’ she winked at Saoirse, before her nails found the soles of my feet. Feet that I had rarely ever had tickled in my life, but were now the subject of eight long fingernails.
I threw my head back with laughter as Bloom tickled the bottoms of my feet.
I just laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed.
As soon as our clothes were back on, we were on our way out the door. Dr. Bloom insisted we take her card with us, which we crumbled and discarded as soon as we reached the hallway. The weird French maid receptionist brought us to the door and if Saoirse and I didn’t already feel violated enough, she said ‘it’s so much fun, isn’t it? I get therapy ALL the TIME.’
We ignored the poor girl and made our way for the car. Once inside, we both breathed heavily, before stealing a glance at each other.
And then, almost by magic, it’s as if I saw a different woman. A woman who was both so beautifully vulnerable, but also strong, and unyielding. And I think that she saw something of that in me, too. I remembered how the feather and those fingers seemed to trace the outline of her body, how they danced along her, emphasising her beautiful shape, her beautiful skin. How I wanted to protect her from them, but, how I so badly wanted to be the one tickling her. Exploring her again as if she were new to me.
Saoirse kicked off her converse, sat up in her chair and kissed me. A kiss I hadn’t felt for months. I wrapped my arms around her waist and she fell upon me with kisses on my lips, my face, and my neck.
Dr. Anna Bloom stood in the doorway of her creepy fucking mansion and she watched as our car rocked gently from side to side in her driveway. Her young receptionist brought her a cup of coffee that steamed in the evening air.
‘So, another successful session, Doctor?’ the girl asked.
Bloom pursed her lips and took a sip of coffee, ‘Shut up and get inside, it’s your turn next.’
She smiled before shutting the door behind her.
We were 29 years old, just married, and already coming apart at the seams.
Our conversations for the past five months had been bare bones, and sex seemed to be off the table entirely. Saoirse was 5’3 with short bleached blonde hair that fell over her blue eyes beautifully, sometimes. She had a slightly cuddly figure that bounced in all the right places. Thinking about it now, I couldn’t keep my hands off her this time last year. I guess that goes to show that the words you share at the breakfast table follow you to the bedroom at night.
Eh, excuse me. Anyway, we weren’t fucking. And we were barely talking.
‘TAKE A LEFT TO EXIT R115’. The sat-nav filled the silence that Saoirse and I carried around with us.
Saoirse found her on Etsy of all fucking places. A relationship counsellor who promised instant results. Saoirse didn’t believe in conventional counselling, and I kind of agreed with her in this case. We didn’t have time for a series of sessions. We were one vehicular meltdown from a divorce. While I certainly didn’t trust some hippie chick on Etsy to fix us, I wanted to try for Saoirse. She deserved that, at least.
She looked at me for the first time in an hour with those blue eyes that used to sparkle.
“That’s it over there, hun. I remember from the photos online.”
So we pulled into the driveway of this strange house that stood like a gothic shadow in this murky backwoods of Dublin, and before we left the car, we stared at each other for just a moment. This was it. This would either fix us or break us. Whatever this was.
You’d expect a spooky house in the middle of nowhere to look spooky inside, but that wasn’t the case. It was disarmingly normal, if a bit ‘hippie chic’. A young woman answered the door and brought us inside, apologising profusely though no harm had been done. I made a face at Saoirse when the girl left, but she just narrowed her eyes at me. Why was that receptionist wearing a cheap French Maid outfit?
We were eventually led up two flights of stairs to her office, where upon her office door the name ‘Dr. Anna Bloom’ stood out in colourful font, the kind usually found in children’s playrooms.
The French Maid receptionist, or whatever she was supposed to be, took a deep breath before she spoke quietly through the crack she opened in the door. Her body seemed to shake, just slightly. And when she turned to us and smiled ‘Dr. Bloom will see you now!’, she rushed away without opening the door for us.
So, we let ourselves in.
Dr. Anna Bloom sat at her desk, a tasteful antique that blended in with the Old World meets hippie commune feel that she was obviously going for. She took us both in with big green eyes before she even introduced herself. She merely motioned for Saoirse and I to sit before her.
‘Well, look at you two,’ she said in an accent that I instantly clocked as Estuary London, having worked in the city for two years prior to meeting Saoirse, ‘Saoirse and Sam, how fucking cute is that?’
It was strange to hear a doctor (apparently) swear so early into a session, which only added to my perception that this was some voodoo hippie nonsense. I stole a glance at Saoirse, who seemed to be charmed by her.
‘Saoirse and Sam, Saoirse and Sam. That’s fucking gorgeous. Look, I don’t want you to tell me a single thing, okay?’
What? I glanced again at Saoirse, who was still wrapt in the doctor’s words.
‘I want you to just, feel the therapy?’ she cocked her head, and I had no idea if it was an honest question or a statement.
Dr. Bloom stood up from her desk, blooms of red hair falling over a white Scrubs-style shirt that she probably stole from a Halloween costume of a real doctor. She wore a Grateful Dead (yawn) shirt under it, a pair of denim jeans, and oddly enough, black heel boots that made her tower over the both of us. She appeared to be in her 40s, possibly early 50s.
She circled the desk, taking us both in like a chess player eyeing up two challenging boards. The way her eyes seemed to fall on Saoirse as though she were tracing her from top to bottom. Analytical. What the fuck are we doing here?
‘So, what’s the therapy exactly?’ I asked, disguising my concern with a smile. Dr. Bloom perked up as soon as I spoke, and Saoirse rolled her eyes.
‘She was getting to that.’ Saoirse stared up to heaven. I’d better keep my fucking mouth closed, I thought. Just go with it, do it for Saoirse.
‘I’m actually so glad you asked that, Sammy Sam.’ Dr. Bloom stopped behind my chair and began to tap a set of long red fingernails on my shoulder. Oh, that made Saoirse uncomfortable alright. I drank that one in.
‘My methodology is abstract, unusual, unique, and contains something of a shamanic quality. Which you’ll find out for yourself very, very soon.’ She took a long nail and tickled under my chin to emphasise each ‘very’.
Saoirse seriously did not like that, but I could see her swallow it down.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a kind of porn set-up coming from the mind of some sick, venal freak on a kink forum, but I decided to just let whatever was going to happen, happen.
‘So, when do we begin?’ Saoirse forced a smile at the doctor, who was now standing right behind her like a bird of prey over a tiny barn mouse. The doctor looked Saoirse up and down once again, before saying, “as soon as we get to my office.”
“I fucking knew it! Come on Saoirse, fuck this.” I shook my head, laughing at this bizarre room that had just opened up before me. The lights fell tinted red over chains and other ridiculous BDSM contraptions that took up all the space in the room, a torture chamber owned by some ridiculous nympho hippie pretending to be a doctor. If it wasn’t kind of funny, I’d have completely lost it. Saoirse appeared to be just as let-down as I was, but as her eyes traversed around the room, I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind.
‘Come on, Saoirse, let’s go.’ I grabbed her by the hand and we began to walk away from Dr. Bloom, who simply stood in the door of her red torture room and waved playfully at us. As though she’d seen this play out a thousand times before.
Saoirse stopped in her tracks as we made our way down the hallway and she took both of my hands, her hands so small against mine, and she looked up at me before sighing.
‘I think we should just go for it, Sam, whatever it is.’
‘Jesus Christ, Saoirse, do you think this is real therapy?’
‘I…I don’t know. I just know I want…’
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to go back to how things used to be between us, and I don’t know if we’re strong enough now to go on much longer.’
Saoirse said exactly what I had been thinking, but it made me sick to hear it from her mouth. She looked to be almost pleading with me, but Saoirse was never one to plead. Well, I’d never seen her plead before, until that day.
My head seemed to drop off my shoulders and I looked up to the ceiling.
‘Okay. Fucking. Okay. Let’s do this weird thing, but I’m only doing this for you, Saoirse. So remember that.’
She squeezed my hand before we both turned to Dr. Bloom. Together, as a couple…trying.
And that evil bitch stood in the doorway with a smile on her face like I’d never seen on a woman before.
‘Yippie’ she clapped her hands, ‘now, let’s have a look at you. Off with your clothes, my sweeties.’
Saoirse and I sat on bench like something you’d find in a college changing room, and I’d be lying if my eyes didn’t catch parts of her that excited me again.
I kicked off my trainers and watched her untie her converse before pulling off each, her feet were tiny compared to mine, and her pink socks almost seemed juvenile considering the situation we were in. I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse to reveal that slight tummy that I had loved so much, and the bra that cupped her breasts that I’d spent so many nights practically attached to. Her thighs that had warmed me so often.
Dr. Bloom was watching us get undressed, and she was doing nothing to hide her eyes that darted from me to Saoirse. She was loving it, and I wondered who exactly this therapy would benefit at the end of the day.
It wasn’t long before I was in nothing but my very basics, and when I was about to pinch the hem of my sock to take it off, I felt Dr. Bloom’s fingernails once again upon my shoulder.
‘Oh no, no. I like to take them off myself.’ She smiled at us, and I could tell Saoirse found that as unnerving as I did.
And so there we were, my wife standing in little more than ridiculous pink ankle socks and her underwear, and I in my own.
Dr. Anna Bloom was circling us again, taking in every inch of our bodies with her eyes. I would, again, be lying if I said I didn’t kind of like the way she looked at me. But that same look thrown over Saoirse’s body filled me with something like jealousy, but more.
After a while, Bloom spoke.
‘Okay, sweeties. Let’s get underway shall we?’
It went from zero to ninety in a matter of seconds. I found myself handcuffed with my arms above my head on a black table that, in something approaching irony, looked a bit like a therapist’s couch. I couldn’t see what had become of Saoirse until Dr. Bloom returned to my table, hearing her heels clicking first, and with the touch of a button the table slid out like some sick ironing board – and I was now in a standing position.
And there was my beautiful bride, like I’d never seen her before. The blood rushed to my head and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or…something else…but seeing her with her arms chained above her head and her feet trapped in some Medieval device – it definitely made me feel something.
‘Oh don’t be so mad’ Dr. Bloom teased, she tickled under my chin again and I tried to shake her away, ‘she looks gorgeous, right?’
She did look gorgeous, but I wasn’t used to seeing her so vulnerable. And I don’t think she was used to seeing me like this either, as was apparent in the squint she gave me, as if to say ‘uh-oh’.
Dr. Bloom seemed to skip over to where Saoirse sat in bondage.
‘Ooooh she’s just so available to me.’ Dr. Bloom chirped, poking Saoirse’s ribs a few times which made her jump uncomfortably. ‘I’m going to make her just a little bit more available’ she said, pinching the end of Saoirse’s silly pink sock and peeling it from her foot, all the while smiling right in her face.
I didn’t know where to look or what to say or what we were even doing here, but I began to piece things together as Bloom peeled the other sock from my wife’s foot, making them bare, and available.
‘Oh but she’s not done yet,’ Bloom winked at me before pulling a white fabric from her fake fucking doctor’s coat. She began to tie a blindfold around Saoirse’s eyes.
‘Okay, this is enough. What the fuck are you doing?’ I called out to Bloom, almost hoping she’d leave Saoirse alone, who was beginning to look uncomfortable. Her blonde tufts of hair sticking out over the blindfold.
‘Excuse me, I’m working here,’ Bloom replied.
The doctor took a step back to admire her work and I found something I didn’t like in her smile now.
‘What’s your favourite colour, Saoirse?’ Dr. Bloom asked, opening up a black briefcase on some random piece of dungeon furniture.
Saoirse cleared her throat, almost frozen in discomfort, her hands so high above her head, clinging to the chains that held her.
‘I like…pink.’
‘Oh so girly, Saoirse. I didn’t cop you as a girly type, but then your socks were a dead giveaway’ Bloom smiled, before selecting something from the briefcase, and slowly pulling out a long, pink feather with a tip that seemed sharper than a nail.
‘What’s this? What the fuck is this supposed to- ‘ I complained, realising that my young wife had no idea what was happening. Dr. Bloom shushed me, before planting the tip of the sinister pink feather right into the centre of my wife’s soft armpit.
The moment seemed to play out in slow motion. I watched Dr. Bloom’s predatory eyes watching for some sign, waiting for my wife to yield to her. I saw Bloom’s hand, her thumb and index finger pinching the shaft of a feather, her wrist bending as she guided the tip to dance in the armpit of my wife, flesh that was so open and vulnerable that it was as good as canvass for the doctor’s sick plans.
And then I saw my wife’s lips. Straight at first, before the bottom lip began to quiver. Those lips that had been pressed against mine so many times. They parted into a smile that wrinkled her nose, and then it came. Saoirse began to laugh.
‘Oh yes, very good sweetie, you just let it all out now.’ Bloom seemed pleased with her patient as the feather tip drew circle 8s in her armpit. Saoirse threw her head back and her toes began to curl. She was speaking through her laughter but I couldn’t make any of it out. I’d never heard her laugh like this before, the ‘hah’s escaping her fully-formed.
‘Let her out, she doesn’t like it for fuck sake!’ I shouted at Bloom, who shushed me again, too busy at her infernal work. Bloom didn’t seem to care if she liked it or not, this was all a part of her therapy.
‘That’s so good, Saoirse, you keep laughing honey. Oh Sam seems so worried, not that you can see for yourself’ Bloom laughed, before she added the fingers on her free hand into this sick therapy that was tormenting my bound wife. I was full of anger at first when I saw those long red fingernails intruding on Saoirse’s soft, white skin. Playing her ribs like a piano. Watching this evil woman drink in my wife’s helpless laughter as both feather and fingers found purchase from armpits to her ribs.
‘Do you like what you see? Sam?’ Bloom stared me right in the eye. She seemed almost still as a statue standing behind my blindfolded wife who thrashed and laughed at her every touch.
‘Can I hahahahah have a breahahah break? Saoirse just about managed through heaving laughter, but Dr. Bloom wouldn’t relent. Her fingers working in tandem with that fucking feather that teased Saoirse’s petite body.
‘No sweetie, we’re just getting started on you, honeybunch.’ Bloom said into her ear, before scribbling her fingers on Saoirse’s tummy, making her explode into laughter.
I tried to test my bonds, but it was no use. I couldn’t help her, and watching her laugh so helplessly and seeing her in such a vulnerable position, it made me angry. And also, something else.
Her mouth was open wide with laughter, and I could see moisture appearing on her cheeks. She couldn’t move an inch, and no matter how hard she tried to dance away from the feather and those intrusive nails, it was no use. She was like a doll being played with.
Dr. Bloom placed the feather between Saoirse's toes for safe-keeping before using both sets of nails to wreak havoc on her. Bloom’s hands seemed to work up and down Saoirse so quickly that they appeared like blurs on her skin. This woman who I had loved, who I now felt so protective over, but could not protect.
‘Hahahahaaaaaah! Please stop! Please! Please! Pleaahahahaha!’ And there it was. I’d never heard Saoirse plead for anyone or anything, but there it came like water from a spout. So easily done.
‘Oh look at you, you little baby.’ Bloom smiled, relenting for a moment. She dragged her nails down Saoirse’s leg, all the way to the wooden stocks that held her tiny feet.
‘I think I could do with a change of scenery though’ Bloom smiled, before pinching each of Saoirse’s toes in a mock game of ‘This little piggy’. Saoirse began to whimper as Bloom’s nails journeyed from one toe to another, before finally drawing a terrible streak down the sole of her foot, all the way to her heel.
‘Please don’t! I’m bad, like! Anywhere but there!’
‘Oh but this is exactly where I want to play with you.’ Bloom smiled at me as she spidered two fingernails up and down Saoirse’s bare foot, ‘does it tickle that much?’
Saoirse began to giggle quietly, but I could tell it wouldn’t be long before Bloom had her exactly where she wanted her.
‘Coochie-coochie-coo’ Bloom whispered, sliding the feather from between her toes and applying it expertly to Saoirse’s other foot. The pink tip never once faltering as it cruelly danced upon her tender, soft foot sole.
‘Ah hah hah hah hahaahaha!’ Again, Saoirse threw her head back and her breasts heaved with her laughter. Bloom worked mercilessly on her feet, pinching each tiny toe to make room for the feather to slide through. Saoirse was sweating now, her mouth was probably sore from laughing, but yet Bloom still found ways to extract that laughter.
The doctor held back her toes and scribbled the feather like a quill on Saoirse’s foot, and she teased her sadistically at every chance with ‘does that tickle?’, ‘oh I bet it does’, and most bizarrely, that old fashioned babytalk of ‘coochie-coo’.
By the time Bloom was finished, Saoirse was completely spent. I watched as Bloom pulled the blindfold from her and looked into her eyes with a satisfied glare, like someone who had just finished a meal. Unfortunately for me, that was only the first course.
‘Did you like that?’ Bloom teased her, stroking the feather under Saoirse’s chin, ‘Oooh, but now I get to play with the hunk, don’t I?’
Saoirse did not like that one, fucking, bit.
‘You leave him the fuck alone or I swear to god I’ll box the head off ya you stupid bitch!’ Every ounce of inner city Dublin rage poured out of Saoirse in that minute, and I’d heard an accent out of her that I had not heard in a long time.
‘Oh shut it,’ Bloom said, before gagging Saoirse with the blindfold. ‘You’re going to like this, maybe?’
Bloom stepped over towards me, one foot in front of the other, almost dance-like. Everything felt like a dance in this place. She got right up into my face and I could feel her breath on my neck.
‘What’s your favourite colour, handsome? I sure hope it’s pink.’ She whispered in my ear, and then I felt it. That feather tip that I had seen torment my wife from her neck to her toes, it was now circling in my exposed armpit.
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Not at first, of course. And so I stared her right in the eyes.
‘Ohhhh, the big man doesn’t have any giggles for me today?’ she said, before spidering those red nails from my bellybutton to my chest, and then down again. ‘I bet he does.’
My lips quivered and I shook in my bonds as she worked the feather in my armpit, down my sides, and circling around my bellybutton. Over and over again.
I tried to resist, and when I caught Saoirse looking so concerned for me, I tried even harder. But when Bloom’s long nails found the hollow of my other armpit, I simply collapsed into laughter. It was no use. The bitch got me.
I cried with laughter as she cooed and giggled in my ears, both of her hands working up and down my body. Squeezing my sides, counting my ribs, and digging into my armpits with such speed that I could never fully acclimatise to one feeling.
‘Oooh I like him, Saoirse, I might keep him here for myself.’ She winked at my wife while I heaved with laughter, my muscles tensing in my bonds. Dr. Anna Bloom was not a big woman, but she was wielding all the power here, and she knew it.
The doctor tapped her nails on the abs that were just beginning to peak out after months of fitness training, and she pulled my underwear slightly down my hips to create more tickling canvass on my lower abdomen. I was already crying with laughter by this stage, which pleased Dr. Bloom to absolutely no end.
‘Awwh look, I made him cry faster than you, Saoirse.’ She chirped, those evil fucking nails finding every crevice and inch of sensitive skin on my upper body.
‘Let’s see now’ Bloom smiled, before pressing a button and adjusting my bondage device back into a table. I was suddenly lying on my back and staring up into the green eyes of our captor and torturer. I bent my head to follow her as she slithered to the bottom of the table and began to run her nails down my socked feet.
She addressed my wife again, ‘Hey, Saoirse. You know what they say about a man with big feet?’ Saoirse tried to spit out her gag, but it was useless.
‘Now let’s see how the big tough man reacts to this’ Her voice was almost musical as she pinched the toes of my socks and peeled them from my feet, clicking her tongue as she made them naked before her.
‘He must have a pretty sweet cock, huh?’ she winked at Saoirse, before her nails found the soles of my feet. Feet that I had rarely ever had tickled in my life, but were now the subject of eight long fingernails.
I threw my head back with laughter as Bloom tickled the bottoms of my feet.
I just laughed, and I laughed, and I laughed.
As soon as our clothes were back on, we were on our way out the door. Dr. Bloom insisted we take her card with us, which we crumbled and discarded as soon as we reached the hallway. The weird French maid receptionist brought us to the door and if Saoirse and I didn’t already feel violated enough, she said ‘it’s so much fun, isn’t it? I get therapy ALL the TIME.’
We ignored the poor girl and made our way for the car. Once inside, we both breathed heavily, before stealing a glance at each other.
And then, almost by magic, it’s as if I saw a different woman. A woman who was both so beautifully vulnerable, but also strong, and unyielding. And I think that she saw something of that in me, too. I remembered how the feather and those fingers seemed to trace the outline of her body, how they danced along her, emphasising her beautiful shape, her beautiful skin. How I wanted to protect her from them, but, how I so badly wanted to be the one tickling her. Exploring her again as if she were new to me.
Saoirse kicked off her converse, sat up in her chair and kissed me. A kiss I hadn’t felt for months. I wrapped my arms around her waist and she fell upon me with kisses on my lips, my face, and my neck.
Dr. Anna Bloom stood in the doorway of her creepy fucking mansion and she watched as our car rocked gently from side to side in her driveway. Her young receptionist brought her a cup of coffee that steamed in the evening air.
‘So, another successful session, Doctor?’ the girl asked.
Bloom pursed her lips and took a sip of coffee, ‘Shut up and get inside, it’s your turn next.’
She smiled before shutting the door behind her.
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