Indecent Exposure

Jane fidgets in the dim reception area of Dr. Bishop's home office, her pulse racing like a trapped animal. Sweat beads on her skin; she's a coiled spring of nerves. The office door creaks open with a slow, sinister groan. Dr. Bishop steps out, his voice smooth as silk: 'Please, come in.' The camera shadows her hesitant steps into the shadowed room. He shuts the door with a soft click that echoes like a trap snapping shut. He gestures to two chairs tucked away from his desk, intimate and isolated. 'Get as comfortable as you like,' he says. She perches on the one facing away from him, back exposed, vulnerable. He introduces himself formally, voice steady. Jane nods, lips sealed. 'I understand Dr. Hill referred you?' She nods again, whispers a shy 'yes.' He paces behind her. 'Dr. Hill's retiring. Disruptive for therapy, but I'll smooth the transition.' He circles her chair like a predator. 'What brought you here?' She twists, surprised. 'Don't you have my file?' 'Yes, but I want your words.' She inhales sharply. 'Dr. Hill says I fear... intimacy.' The word hangs heavy. She stumbles. 'I'm afraid of... sex.' Her voice cracks. 'Can you help?' 'This is my expertise,' he assures, eyes glinting. 'I'll do everything to help you.' He probes: 'Your phobia—fear of sex. Any guess on its start?' She squirms, evades with a 'no.' 'Have you had sex before? Or has fear always blocked it?' Discomfort floods her face. 'Yes,' she murmurs, eyes dropping to her lap. 'How old when you lost your virginity?' 'About four years ago. I'm 22 now, so 18.' 'Describe it.' He pauses, then unzips his fly with deliberate slowness. Her eyes widen in shock. 'Losing my virginity? You want details?' 'Yes. To isolate the root cause.' Unseen, he frees his thickening cock, inches it toward her face while she's lost in thought, oblivious. 'Take your time, dear. No hurry.' 'Um, okay,' she relents. 'Parents out of town, brother threw a party. It happened that night.' 'Continue.' 'Party was wild. I ducked to my room for makeup touch-up. This guy I knew followed. We'd both knocked back a few—liquid courage. He confessed his crush, and suddenly things spiraled. I was naked with him, and... it happened.' She exhales, nails to teeth. 'Be specific,' he urges, pacing, cock in hand, waving it teasingly close to her head—brushing perilously near but never touching. 'Relaxation exercise: lean your head back, close your eyes, focus on your words.' She obeys, head lolling. His hand lands on her shoulder, supportive whisper, while the other strokes his rigid shaft. She starts: 'We kissed. He ripped off my shirt. I just... did it because I felt I had to.' Voice quakes. Abruptly, he yanks back, stuffs his cock away, zips up. 'Enough for now, Jane. Open your eyes.' She turns, peers at him leaning on the desk, kind smile masking the edge. 'Deep breath. That was tough, but you're safe.' She exhales, shaky. 'Clearly traumatic,' he says. 'Admitting it? Progress. That night birthed your phobia. I'm recommending treatment: Exposure Therapy.' CUT TO TITLE PLATE. She shakes her head. 'What's that?' 'Exposing you to the fear to kill it. You've dreaded sex since then, so you need to have it again—face it head-on. Only way.' Her eyes bulge, lip quivers. 'No! I can't! Won't! Can't force it with some random guy!' 'Not a one-night fling. Needs professional oversight. I'll administer it.' Jaw drops. 'You? With me? Crazy! No!' He advances, smile turning icy. Hand clamps her shoulder—firm, unyielding. She flinches. 'I recommend this seriously. But if you refuse—your choice—you'll leave, try fixing it solo. Initial wins, then relapse. Fears return, phobias choke you. No relationships, no closeness, no real pleasure. Life slips away alone. Dying solitary? That's my nightmare for any patient.' Confusion twists her face. 'You can't know that'll happen!' 'Fifteen years as psychiatrist—I do.' Patient, probing. 'Don't you want happiness?' Hope flickers in her gaze: save me. 'Okay, if it helps,' she whispers, reluctant. 'Stand, face me.' 'Sexual encounters start with nudity. Strip.' Trembling fingers peel away clothes, baring her massive tits, heavy and inviting. 'Lie on the desk.' She hesitates, then does. He parts her thighs, eyes devouring her tight pussy, slick and waiting. Face dives in, tongue plunging into her juicy folds. Uncertainty lingers, but pleasure surges—his mouth devours her clit. She moans, loud and raw, hips bucking. He feasts hungrily, lapping her essence. Next phase: 'On your knees.' He unleashes his cock, thick and veined. But her therapy's barely cracked open. Before her sex terror fades, Dr. Bishop will thrust her into forbidden depths she never imagined—raw, relentless exposure.