Friday, January 11, 2013

Bully Gets Wimp's Mother - Part Six

By Psiberdreaming

...continued from Part Five

"Dr. Phillips will see you now, Mrs. Redmon," the petite, cute, receptionist sang into the lobby where three people waited: a teenager with a heavy acne problem, a sad-looking man of about fifty-five years of age, and Olivia. Spending the past twenty minutes crossing and uncrossing her sexy, shapely, and stocking-covered legs did more to pitch a tent in the now too tight jeans of the teenager than it did to quell the irrational nervousness that she now felt.

Standing and carefully smoothing her skirt, she walked into the office of psychologist Timothy Phillips and closed the door behind her. Looking around at the fully furnished room, the rich mahogany tones stood out to impress her with the professional success that Dr. Phillips must have found through his work. She couldn't help but notice quite an amount of religious tokens and representations displayed around the office. He was definitely Catholic as a crucifix hung on the wall behind his desk. She wondered if anyone who was an atheist ever came here and just how much he would be affected by hearing her story. Unfortunately, she was, for the most part, stuck with him, as he was the only psychologist who could start seeing her immediately. Most therapists in town had a three month long waiting list and she needed help now, that is, if she was going to stop.

"Hello, Mrs. Redmon," he greeted her as he offered her his hand.

She shook it and nervously spouted out, "Doctor, before we start, I need to know that everything we talk about here is truly privileged and that there will be no judgment from you. I am trying to fix something very wrong with me and your help won't mean anything if you just sit there and judge me."

"There is no judgment here, Olivia, and yes, everything you say to me stays in this office as long as I don't believe you will do harm to yourself or another person."

"What if I have hurt someone, but have stopped and, with your help, will never do it again?" she asked, nearly in tears.

"It sounds like you are contrite about what you have done and willing to seek help toward a change, so as long as it doesn't involve a child..."

"It involves my child, my son... um, my eighteen year old son," she stuttered.

"Is this about incest?" he asked, apprehensively.

"Oh my god, no! No way! Never, would I ever think of HIM that way, oh fuck no!"

"It's okay, relax, Olivia, I didn't mean to infer... you are just being very vague with your explication right now," the doctor explained.

"I'm sorry, Doctor... I am just soooo messed up right now. I just, um, really need your help, please."

"Why don't you have a seat, Mrs. Redmon and we will see what I can do to help you. But rest assured, confidentiality is the cornerstone of my profession."

She sauntered over to the a soft-cushioned chair in the office and Doctor Phillips could not help but watch her round muscular ass shift back and forth, propelled by her equally toned legs, which held just the right amount of tight muscles under just the right amount of shapely arc. Her hips curved out and then came in to a torso that was straight, lean, and powerful, containing 36C breasts that sat high and firm on her chest. Her shoulders seemed to be able to hold the weight of the world and were attached to her beautiful head and face, by a neck that looked like it was made to suck on for days.

Turning quickly, in order to sit down, Olivia noticed the doctor staring at her and sighed. The breathy noise brought his eyes up to her face, where he gazed at a countenance that had seen plenty of sun, from years of running, but her skin was smooth – devoid of wrinkles – almost invisibly covered on the sides by a very light layer of downy hair. Her nose was small and slightly turned up, covered with a smattering of freckles. Lips opened and closed around her words, her full lower lip pouting, while her upper lip was slightly thin and rose above her pearl white teeth in a way that could only make a man think of sex; this was accentuated by her bright, glass green eyes that penetrated a man when they looked at him.

He could feel his cock grow slightly, but then quickly looked at the picture of his family sitting on a bookshelf behind his desk. This didn't seem to work well enough though, so he took his cause to the power of the crucifix he had hanging on his wall and crossed himself quickly.

"Oh my God, really?" Olivia whispered a little too loudly.

"Sorry, about that, but I... I mean my belief figures heavily into my work, however, you don't need to worry, I do not proselytize to my patients under any conditions."

"Oh, okay, good."

"So, shall we get down to it then?" the psychologist offered.

"Where do I start?"

"Where do you want to start?"

"My son is being beat up by a bully."

"Okay, and can he stop the bully in any way?"

"No, he's too big of a wimp and I can't say that I have really wanted it to stop," Olivia stated quickly, not giving herself the chance to think about, making it easier to confide.

"I'm not sure that I understand."

"The bully, Pete – Pete's his name – and I have begun having a relationship."

"What do you mean – relationship?"

"I mean, for some reason, I like it when he beats my son up... I get turned on by it and he knows it and uses it to do things to me."

Phillips sat up, shocked by what he had heard. This seemed a very rare and possibly original psychological malady. Why it was true that sadism had been around longer than the Marquis de Sade's Philosophy in the Boudoir, having a mother receive a sexual charge from violence perpetrated on her offspring was not something that you would read about in professional or academic journals. Perhaps this could become a case study that would see him published in Journals and being respected by his peers. 'Phillips Syndrome, perhaps,' he thought to himself.

"Could you elaborate on the idea of 'turned on'... do you mean in a sexual way?" he stammered.

"Yes, a sexual way! Is there another?" she spat. "What exactly do you want to know? Does my pussy get wet? Do my nipples get hard? Does the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end while I watch him hurt my son? Yes, all of that happens! For God's sake, my son went to the hospital twice when Pete fractured his arm and all I did was get pissed off at my son for being such a wuss and then turned on over it; it gets so much worse when I eventually talk to Pete."

"What did you and Pete talk about?"

"It always isn't talking. We have had phone sex, I guess if you call it that, and one time, in an alley, he manipulated me into an orgasm that I haven't experienced in years."

He could see that she was squirming slightly in her seat, talking to him now, and that her nipples, at one point not evident in any way, were now rock hard diamonds, ready to cut glass.

"Have you not experienced an orgasm before this?"

"I have, but not of this magnitude since high school – when I used to date bullies," she responded quickly, mumbling the last part.

"I see. Was your husband ever a bully?"

She laughed out loud, suddenly, explosively. "He's anything but that. My son most likely got his weak traits from my husband."

"Have you fully cheated on your husband with Pete yet?" Phillips timidly asked, almost afraid of the reply.

"I'm not sure what you mean. What kind of question is that?" she asked angered by the Doctor's apparent temerity.

"I'm sorry, I sometimes need to delve deeper in order to understand the exact nature of an issue and with this being such a delicate situation I wasn't quite sure of the words to use."

"Just ask then," Olivia pointed out, relaxing a little.

"Have you had intercourse with the bully?"

"His name is Pete. And no, we haven't fucked, yet... That's why I came to you. I want to be with him, badly. I can taste it and would give up just about anything in order to have him, but it's not right. In high school, I was always attracted to people like him, even to the extent of having them hurt people for me."

"Let me ask this: was it the control over the bully that you found arousing or was it the pain that they would inflict?" he asked, jotting notes down on a legal pad.

"A bit of both, I guess... actually no, I think it's the pain that the person is suffering for and because of me. Controlling the bully for me was just a tool to get to the person being beat up."

"Would you say the same applies to your son?"

"I guess so. When it happens, I can't explain it, it just drives me to a dark place where I lose control and all I want is to get off."

"Let me ask another question, if you don't mind, Mrs. Redmon."

"Go ahead."

"Why is it that you insist me calling Pete by his name but not once have you mentioned your husband or son's names today?"

Replying while in thought, Olivia said, "I'm not sure. I've done that? Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive."

"I don't know," she stopped momentarily, then continued after thinking, "Is it because I don't see my husband or son on Pete's level?"

"I don't know. Is it?" he queried back.

"I guess. When I think about it, that is it. Pete's a man in my mind, while my son and husband are lesser forms of life. I mean I love them, but they aren't what is Pete is and they never will be."

"Let me ask you another personal question, then. How active was your sex life with your husband before you met Pete?"

"It was actually pretty awesome. You see Doctor, I have worked long and hard, for many years, to mature and get control of myself so that I could live a life that anyone would consider successful. That led to me calming down and gave me the ability to appreciate those that I loved, including all that my husband offered with his unconditional love for me. I hope you understand just how successful those facets of our marriage made me feel."

"I can completely understand that. How's your sex life with your husband since Pete?"

"Non-existent... I keep giving him excuses, but the truth is that sex with him is kind of distasteful now. He's not Pete; if that makes sense... I just can't stand this, I want to want my husband! I want to protect my son! I want to NOT cheat on my husband! Please, help me!" Olivia pleaded with the psychologist.

He wondered how to handle this. Yes, it was true that he needed to help her, but he needed a lot of information from her in order to create a research packet on Phillips Syndrome. He needed to take this very slowly and keep her stationary for a little while. How to do this, how to keep her right where she was, until he had time to observe her, he had to figure this out, and work it in such a way that if something did end up harming her son, he could not be implicated. It isn't that he wanted the child harmed, God forbid.

He just wanted to be respected in his professional and spiritual community and this could push him right into that position, as well as possibly save other – future – children from harm if he could link this to the string of mothers who kill their children after suffering some sort of psychological break. Olivia was much like them, in the way that mothers are supposed have an instinctual drive to protect their children and some seem to lack that, just in her particular case she gets gains a vicarious sexual thrill from the harm being perpetrated on her son.

"Mrs. Redmon, our time has come to end, but rest assured I can help you become well."

"Oh, thank God, really?"

"Absolutely, but I need to get to the bottom of all of this. I think, for now, that we need to visit twice a week for now, if that's alright. Can you cut off all contact with Pete for right now?"

"How do I do that? He stole my son's cell phone and has every number that was in it, including my husband's. Pete has already threatened that if I don't talk to him, he would call my husband and..."

"Can you change your phone numbers, in a way that your husband would not be aware of the reasons behind it?" the doctor queried, amazed at himself for asking a patient to lie to help cover-up a pattern of behavior... it was against all psychological conventions, not to mention highly unethical. Could he cross that ethical boundary? It would be a means to an end which could result in rich rewards for many people (not to mention himself).

"How do you mean, Doctor?"

"Let your husband know the truth, that your son's bully stole the phone and is making harassing phone calls and the only way to stop all of it is to cancel and reestablish your plan and to change your home phone number. That stops the bully's, I mean Pete's, calls for now and allows you time to work with me and heal yourself."

"Okay, I can do that. What do I do when he beats my son up?"

"Unfortunately, until we get you healed more, you will have to let that behavior lie. Disrupt it only if your son's life is in jeopardy in some way, or if any physicality will result in permanent physical damage. And then I would like for you to keep a journal of your thoughts, feelings, and actions when you see the damage done to your son by the bu- I mean - by Pete."

He hoped none of this would backfire. It was awfully risky. He allayed his fears with the reasoning that with no significant risk has there ever really been significant professional rewards. He just might have to attend confession and commit to a little more penance until this case study was committed to journal paper.

"This journal," Olivia asked, "what if I masturbate? Should I mention that?"

"Absolutely, note everything and then we will discuss it when we meet."

"You're not going to use it to get off are you?"

"Oh my goodness, no!" he gasped. "I am only attracted to the idea of being a good husband to my wife and father to my child. I would never use a patient's journal for personal gratification; that would be crossing a line that I am not even interested in."

"Okay, I will write a journal for you."

"No, not for me, for you. It's a tool... to make you better."

"Thank you, Doctor." 

Olivia set up her next appointment and left, feeling, at last, like she could see a pinpoint of light coming at her from the end of a very dark tunnel. be continued! 


  1. School yard wimps never forget the terrible experience of having to hand over their ice cream money to a bully. As mature adults many former wimps have become cops or registered gun owners. Some have accidentally run into the bully who abused them as a child, details of the encounter have never been made public.

  2. I think it's great that she likes. Her son getting beat up. I think she should watch him getting stomped on. Cheering the bully on to really hurt him. Putting the wimp in a coma or kill him


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...