The Session Where My Psychologist Learned to Obey

That morning Nuria didn’t have to go to work. A couple of weeks earlier, she had made an appointment with a psychologist someone had recommended, a young woman who had only just opened her practice. She thought that with a woman—and a young one at that—she would be less likely to scandalize her when telling her certain things. Better that than some man in a jacket and tie with a bored expression, the kind who listens to your confessions while imagining something else. Definitely, it would be easier for her to talk to the young woman.

She arrived very early. The appointment was at nine, but she had already been sitting in the waiting room for a quarter of an hour. To make matters worse, the only person keeping her company in that room was a mature man.

The guy was wearing light-colored Bermuda shorts that showed off strong legs, leather sandals, an expensive shirt open just enough to reveal his chest, and a gold chain that had some weight to it. He looked like a man with money. And he had a way of looking that left no room for doubt: he openly looked her up and down, like someone appraising merchandise. Nuria felt that familiar signal, the heat rising inside her and leaving her wet from nothing more than crossing glances. With some amusement, she thought that perhaps the man was there for the same reason she was—to ask someone whether his condition could be cured.

“From what you’re telling me, Nuria, yours seems to be a case of very intense desire, perhaps even extreme desire, but nothing that can’t be solved,” said the young Lorena, now inside the office.

The blonde smiled at such a quick diagnosis—which, as far as she was concerned, was completely wrong. She took the opportunity to get a good look at the girl sitting opposite her. A dark-haired woman with black eyes, barely past twenty, wearing a dark skirt-and-jacket suit and a white blouse buttoned just enough to contain a chest that looked generously endowed.

“I think we’ll have it resolved in three or four sessions,” Lorena insisted, confident in her analysis.

That day, of course, wasn’t going to be the first real session. The psychologist had already warned her that it would only be an initial consultation, a short one, because that morning she had to look at a nearby property she wanted to rent. Her partner, who had studied business, had put the idea in her head of moving from that little office to something larger, with employees and everything. The first thing was to find the ideal place.

“Don Saúl, whenever you’re ready, we can go,” Lorena said to the man, who was still at reception, watching the two women who had just come out.

On one hand, there was the blonde who had shared the waiting room with him minutes earlier. Don Saúl had a nose for these things, and that woman had been enough for him to classify her after ten minutes of conversation: a female with more than enough heat and not enough of someone to manage it for her. On the other hand, there was the psychologist, a stunning woman with a full, voluptuous body whom he had met through her boyfriend, who was interested in renting the property. He took Lorena for a prude—but one of those who hid a volcano beneath a straight skirt.

“Well, Nuria, I’m off. I’ll call you tomorrow and give you a time for next week. Sorry I don’t have more time today, but I arranged to meet Don Saúl to see the property.”

“You can come along if you like. It’s right next door,” the man offered.

“A patient’s opinion is always appreciated, isn’t it, Nuria? Are you coming?” Lorena asked with a smile.

By then, Nuria was thinking only of being alone with that mature man with the dirty look, so she agreed at once.

***

The property was enormous. The entrance was already a good-sized room, and Lorena imagined a waiting room there, full of patients. There were four more rooms that could serve as offices, one of them with a bathroom. In that last room, the two women noticed a small refrigerator plugged in and a cot so narrow it was difficult to call it a bed.

“It’s just that every now and then I bring some company here. It wouldn’t do to take them home to my wife,” Don Saúl said, laughing without the slightest shame.

They both smiled. Lorena blushed slightly; Nuria’s eyes were alight. The blonde didn’t hold back and sat down on the cot, testing the mattress with her hand.

“Well, you must have a hell of a good time fucking here—it’s nice and soft,” she blurted out, cracking up.

All three laughed, though Don Saúl accompanied his laughter with a discreet gesture to adjust the bulge beginning to grow beneath his Bermuda shorts.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” Lorena said, trying to break the atmosphere that was forming. But with the desire the other two had brought with them, she achieved precisely the opposite. They both told her to sit down and take off her jacket. It was clear that Nuria and Don Saúl had understood the same thing: the young psychologist had to be led, slowly, onto their territory.

“Here, beside me, pretty girl. Make yourself comfortable,” the blonde said as she stroked her neck and face.

Lorena was beginning to yield to Nuria’s hands, and Nuria knew perfectly well how to arouse another woman. Don Saúl stood in front of them, doing nothing but watch as he undid his shirt with calculated slowness, setting the pace and making it clear who was in charge of that room.

Let her watch. Let her learn.

Nuria had been kissing Lorena’s neck and nibbling her earlobe for some time. With her eyes closed and her head thrown back, Lorena had stopped pretending. Her white blouse had fallen completely open. She moaned softly, surrendered, while the blonde raised her skirt and rubbed her sex through her underwear.

Don Saúl finished undressing. A considerable erection showed beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs, straining the elastic. He approached unhurriedly, took Lorena by the chin, and turned her face so she would open her eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered in a deep voice that allowed no argument.

The psychologist obeyed. And as she obeyed, something broke inside her: the prude who had spent years holding herself back was left on the floor, along with her jacket. She swallowed. Nuria felt the brunette’s body yield completely beneath her hands, felt her surrender without conditions.

“That’s it,” the blonde whispered. “You don’t have to decide anything. Just let yourself go.”

Lorena nodded slowly. It was the first time anyone had spoken to her like that, and to her surprise, she liked it. She liked no longer being the one who diagnosed, the one who put things in order, the one with all the answers. For one morning, she liked being nobody but an available body.

***

Within minutes, the scene had changed completely. Lorena, now naked, was on all fours on the cot, her knees and hands sunk into the mattress, her back arched in a provocation she didn’t even recognize in herself. Don Saúl positioned himself behind her and began fucking her with long, deep thrusts, holding her by the hips, marking every stroke as though driving an idea home.

“Is this what you were missing?” he asked her without stopping. “Say it.”

“Yes,” she moaned, her face pressed against the mattress. “Yes, this.”

“Louder.”

“Yes!” she shouted, and the word dissolved into a moan.

Kneeling on the floor, Nuria missed nothing. She caressed the brunette’s thighs, kissed the small of her back, and whispered obscenities in her ear whenever she saw her about to come. The blonde enjoyed it almost as much as her own pleasure: directing, arousing, watching a woman who had arrived convinced she had everything under control come undone on all fours.

“Ask him not to stop,” Nuria whispered in her ear.

“Don’t stop, please,” Lorena obeyed. “Don’t stop.”

Don Saúl sped up. The psychologist began to tremble, her knees gave way, and a long, uncontrolled orgasm ran through her from head to toe as she screamed without the slightest shame—she, who half an hour earlier had barely dared meet the man’s eyes. The mature man followed close behind, burying himself to the hilt with a hoarse grunt and emptying himself inside her in several jolts.

Then he withdrew slowly and collapsed to one side, panting, with a brutally satisfied smile.

***

But Nuria wasn’t finished. The blonde sat up, licked her lips, and looked at Don Saúl with a clear idea in her eyes.

“I need to pee,” he said, reading her expression.

“I’ll take you,” she replied, getting up and tugging at Lorena’s hand. The psychologist was still trembling on the cot.

She dragged him into the room’s small bathroom. The psychologist, freshly fucked and still dazed, followed without really knowing why. Don Saúl planted himself in front of the toilet, grabbed his sex, and looked at the blonde, who had already knelt on the tiled floor and was meeting his gaze with unabashed boldness.

“Here?” he asked.

“Here,” Nuria said, opening her mouth and tilting her head back.

Lorena, leaning against the doorframe, watched the scene with a mixture of shame and arousal that kept her rooted to the spot. The blonde took the hot stream across her face, neck, and chest without pulling away, moaning with pleasure and rubbing herself between the legs with one hand while directing the flow where she wanted with the other. To her, it wasn’t humiliation: it was power. It was being exactly what she was, without apologies.

“Come here,” she told Lorena, extending a soaked hand. “Don’t just stand there watching. Kneel.”

The psychologist hesitated for one second. Only one. Then she knelt beside the blonde on the wet tiles and let Nuria run her tongue slowly over her cheek, possessively, marking her as her own. When the stream dwindled to a few final drops, the two women were still kneeling, pressed against each other, while Don Saúl looked down at them like an emperor contemplating his spoils.

“You’re both a pair of filthy sluts,” he said, and in his mouth it sounded almost like praise.

***

The spectacle had made him hard again. Don Saúl grabbed Lorena by the hair, firmly but without hurting her, and led her back toward the cot.

“Get on all fours. I’m not finished with you yet.”

The brunette obeyed without protest, docile and eager. Nuria settled her back against the wall so she wouldn’t miss a thing, one hand between her legs, her eyes shining. The mature man penetrated the psychologist again, this time more slowly, savoring the absolute control he had over both women, over the entire morning, over that empty property that smelled of sweat and sex.

“Give it to her hard,” the blonde urged. “Make sure she doesn’t forget.”

“I’m not going to forget,” Lorena panted, and for the first time the words came from her without anyone dictating them.

Don Saúl quickened his pace. The pleasure of fucking such a magnificent female, with the other woman behind him heating him up with her voice, was too much. He came for the second time with a roar, and his orgasm dragged both women into theirs almost simultaneously. Lorena collapsed onto the mattress, giving the last spasms of pleasure, spread-eagled and strengthless, with an idiotic smile too big for her face. Nuria came while watching it all from her corner, rubbing herself without shame and moaning no one’s name.

***

A sharp thud—the sound of something heavy hitting the floor—made them turn their heads toward the door.

There, lying full-length on the floor, was Lorena’s boyfriend, unconscious from the shock of what he had just seen. On one side lay a bouquet of roses, smashed against the floor. On the other, papers were scattered everywhere, headed “Rental Agreement.”

Nuria—the blonde, her face and breasts still wet, her hair plastered down, and a smile of sheer insolence on her lips—was the only one able to speak. She rose slowly, brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, and looked at the unconscious body of the newcomer with something resembling tenderness.

“Have him sign the contract when he wakes up,” she said. “The property is worth it.”