Divorce Theapy

Divorce Therapy

The Solicitors office held the whole of the upper floor of an impressive Georgian building in the classy part of town: by the time I had reached the top storey I decided that I really did need to work out more. I found myself in a swish reception area and seated behind a large desk was a beautiful woman in her mid thirties, typical secretary type with glasses and her hair swept back neatly in a pony tail. What was unusual, however, was the cut of her blouse; she was exposing a very pleasing amount of cleavage.

"Good afternoon, Sir, you must be Mr Denham, Mr Thomas is expecting you" she smiled and indicated a very comfortable sofa "Please take a seat, I will inform Mr Thomas you are here" She came out from behind the desk and I was glad to see she had a fine pair of legs, the short black skirt she was wearing barely covered her stocking tops and, despite the six inch heels, she seemed to have no trouble walking gracefully towards an impressive mahogany panelled door. She knocked tentatively and receiving a barking response, entered the room. After a muted conversation she returned to collect me.

"Mr Thomas will see you now, Sir, if you would follow me" I enjoyed the short walk behind her: catching a glimpse of her stocking tops with every step and the swish of her ponytail as her long glossy hair swung left and right, she really was a very sexy woman.

The office I was admitted to was outstanding, a large mahogany desk dominated the room with three of the walls were made up of bookcases and cupboards which gave the impression of a panelled study. Seated behind the desk was a man in his early forties, you could have described him as a Bruce Willis with a full head of hair. He leaned forward across the vast expanse of desk and offered me his hand.

"Mr Denham, Serge Thomas, nice to meet you" His eyes were deep pools, unreadable, but the smile on his face was full of bonhomie. "Take a seat" he indicated a large leather chair, as I felt myself sink into it I was reminded of a Gentleman's Club rather than a Solicitor's Office. I was beginning to feel nervous, this guy was going to cost me a fortune, but I had been given several personal recommendations, he was the best.

"I understand your wife has run off with her lover, the best man at your wedding less than five years ago, and you are here to make sure she doesn't get a penny of your company's assets, am I correct?" He summed up in that short sentence the reason for my visit, yet it did nothing to describe my feelings of anger and sheer hatred that coursed through my veins during the two days since my discovery.

"That's correct"

"Would you care for refreshments while we go through the paperwork you sent me?" I nodded, "Tea, Coffee or something stronger?" As it was only three in the afternoon I decided on Tea. He flicked a switch on his desk "Get me two teas". I was surprised at the change in his tone, the order was barked with no pre-amble or please, the disbelief must have shown in my face because he leant back and smiled. "Oh Mr Denham, I think there is a lot more I can do for you than just handle your divorce, you need to know how to really treat women" My mouth fell open, clearly political correctness had never entered this office.

There was a gentle tap on the door and once again I was treated to the lovely sight of the secretary, she took two steps into the room and gave a small curtsey to Mr Thomas, despite the fact she was carrying a tray of tea she managed not to spill a drop.

"Excuse me Sir, would you like me to serve the tea now, Sir?" I noticed that although she was addressing the man behind the desk her eyes stayed on the floor her tone was reverential as if she was a turn of the century parlour maid.

"Get on with it, bitch!" I was completely shocked and expected the secretary to give him a mouthful (I know my secretary would if I asked her to get me a cup of water let alone call her a bitch).

Mr Thomas smiled at me "Let me tell you a little bit about my secretary, since you appear to be so concerned for her welfare" he was smiling yet the eyes still remained black unfathomable pools. "She is the property of a good friend of mine, his slave so to speak. Have you heard of BDSM?" My mind was racing; I had heard of it but never met anyone who openly admitted to the practice. I must have nodded because he continued "Well, she is his property, I pay him well for her services and help him out by ensuring she gets all the attention she deserves. In fact you may be interested in a sideline of my business, it is called Divorce Therapy." By now we had each received a cup of tea from the slave secretary, who had silently made her way out of the office while Mr Thomas continued to discuss her like a piece of furniture he owned. "Divorce Therapy is used to help you with all the anger you have towards women at the moment, in my experience divorce seems to bring out passion in the most gentle of people. Let's finish up the initial paperwork phase of your divorce and then perhaps I can give you a free session of Divorce Therapy to see if you would like the service" We continued with the finer points of the divorce over the course of the next hour, where I had to list all my wife's indiscretions ending with my discovery of her and my best friend fucking in my bed. After the hour was up I was feeling extremely angry and very open to the "Therapy" Mr Thomas offered.

He stood up, walked across the room and opened a door which I had not noticed before as it was once again mahogany and blended into the background. I followed his lead and entered the most extraordinary room I had ever seen in real life. It was a dungeon; the four walls were a rich deep red colour, the floor covered with marble tiles, and the tall ceiling a vast blackness. In one corner of the room was a large seat with straps making it look similar to an electric chair. Along one wall hung a long line of whips, floggers, canes and crops, followed by bars with cuffs at each end. There was a sort of bench in the middle topped off with deep red leather, which had straps hanging off at various points. Along another wall were various rings and hooks alongside a large throne like chair, finally in the corner behind the door where we had entered was the slave secretary, totally naked now facing into the corner, her hands on her head and her magnificent long legs spayed apart.

"Now, Mr Denham, we come to the Therapy stage of your divorce proceedings. Your wife has behaved abominably and it is my opinion that she should be punished severely for treating you with such disrespect. Since we cannot drag her in here to face her punishment we have our little slave here to stand in for her. So, Mr Denham, you are going to wreak your revenge on that little wife of yours by beating her butt until she pleads with you for mercy; which you may or may not give as you see fit." I was completely and utterly filled with fury after discussing the raw details of my wife's infidelity and faced with such a beautiful bottom I grasped the opportunity with both hands.

I walked forward and addressed the slave "I wonder if you wouldn't mind moving to the bench in the middle please" to my disappointment the secretary did not move, and Mr Thomas began to laugh.

"Mr Denham, she is a bitch, a slut, nothing more than a whore, you don't ask her to do anything you tell her – here let me show you" and with that he raised his voice and shouted "Get on the bench you slut!" to which the secretary immediately positioned herself without hesitation. With quick efficiency he strapped the naked woman down availing himself of the cuffs and finally using a blindfold of soft velvet tied around the woman's head. There followed a brief introduction of all the implements hanging from the wall, he demonstrated the wrist action for the flogger, cane and paddle while his victim lay impassive.

Eventually the moment came when I held a crop in my hand and I approached the bare lily white bottom and struck a blow. There was a resounding slap, not as loud as created by Mr Thomas's demonstration; but a satisfying noise nevertheless. It was with some glee I saw the appearance of an angry red stripe across the white canvas, and, encouraged by Mr Thomas's smile, I proceeded with another, then another until gradually I felt the force of my anger travel down my arm and give strength to the blows, the white soft skin changed to red in no time and eventually I found I had to stop because my arm was beginning to ache.

"Well done Mr Denham, a very pleasing start. Now let me see if I can find an implement that will inflict pain without the need of such an effort on your part" he went to a small chest of drawers and opened the first drawer, I could hear the tinkle of metal and he brought me a chain with what looked like alligator clips on each end. "These are nipple clamps, but they can be used on any area of skin that you fancy, our little slave here has some lovely pussy lips that are exposed and ready for your attention" I smiled, I was just beginning to enjoy myself. I pinched each side of the slave's pussy and attached the alligator clamps letting the chain fall, it did look quite pretty; especially as the slave had a nice hairless pussy. Mr Thomas then provided me with a selection of weights, they were beautifully crafted silver balls, with small hooks that you could clip onto a ring in the centre of the chain, it was with a great deal of pleasure I watched the lips thin and stretch to accommodate the increasing weight placed upon them, until I had run out of weights. Mr Thomas undid the straps securing the slave and ordered her to stand before me, she moved carefully, and I watched with great satisfaction as the balls swung stretching the lips even further. The slave stood as asked, with her legs slightly parted in order to allow the balls to swing freely. As she was blindfolded, I felt able to feast my eyes on her upturned breasts; they were well rounded with little pink areole and small pink nubs for nipples. As if he read my mind, Mr Thomas announced the need to give her tits some attention, while holding another device in his hand. I can only describe it as two pieces of wood, around half a meter in length, with a large treaded screw at each end, along the facing sides of the wood were a large number of metal bottle tops, these were arranged so that they would meet similar to teeth when the two pieces of wood were screwed together – it struck me as an impressive well thought out piece of equipment. With experienced dexterity Mr Thomas pulled the slave's breasts through the opening of the wood and methodically turned the butterfly screws down so that the breasts were caught between the metal teeth, I was amazed at how much the tits were squeezed, the bottle caps were barely and inch apart, the flesh oozed out from the tit bar, a vivid shade of purple. There was some moaning emanating from the slave, but that was silenced by a brutal crack across the buttocks with a long cane, the force made the balls swing wildly forcing her pussy lips to be brutally pulled and I began to feel my dick rise in arousal. Mr Thomas deftly raised the slave's arms and secured them to one of the many rings in the ceiling, and then announced that he would warm the bitch up for me. I watched a true Master at work as he used the flogger to whip the slave from the backs of her knees to her neckline so that she was a glowing red colour all over. He even used a thin strap to catch the ends of her nipples, making her gasp.

After admiring the marks on the slave for a little while, Mr Thomas then handed me a large church candle that had been burning brightly in one corner, there was a large well of liquid wax and after seeing him pour wax over the slave's heated ass I decided to go to work on her squashed tits. The effect was amazing; I found that if I dripped the wax close to her nipple the pain would send the slave jumping slightly, which in turn made the balls from her lips swing – I felt my anger slowly dissipating, the "therapy" was doing its good work.

Then Mr Thomas began to play with the girl's pussy, despite the stretched pussy lips it was not long before I saw the swollen clit peeping through its hood; he toyed with it a little more then suddenly stood back and brought the flogger down on the enlarged clit. She jumped in her bonds, the balls swung mercilessly and the tit bar juggled provocatively. I was completely mesmerised as he repeated the procedure several times over. He would tease her clit, despite the slave knowing what was to come; she could not help but be turned on by his attentions. I noticed that after each blow the clit seemed to increase in size – clearly this woman was a true masochist. After the seventh blow he stood back allowing the slave a moment of composure, her pussy was red and puffy. "Now, Mr Denham, I think this slave is ready to give you some attention and make some amends for her disgraceful behaviour." As he spoke he began to unfasten the slave's arms and remove the blindfold. When released, she immediately sunk down on her knees before me.

"Please Sir, I beg your forgiveness, I will do anything you ask to recompense" her tone was genuinely remorseful. She began to lick my shoes, savouring the leather as if it were an ice- cream rather than mud spattered brogues I barely took time to polish.

"So Mr Denham, are you enjoying yourself?" Mr Thomas enquired, forcing me to raise my gaze from the squirming slave to meet his dark expressionless eyes "Would you like this slut to give you some relief?" the question was an invitation I could not pass up, at my nod and with quick efficiency, the slave had released my member and began to suck my dick with vigour, taking it so deep I could feel her throat teasing the end of my dick, until she needed to gasp for air. I began to toy with her tortured nipples, pinching and twisting to my satisfaction. After a few minutes had passed I decided that I did not want to cum just yet, I was having too much fun. I was beginning to enjoy this therapy!

I looked down at the bobbing head and it seemed all at once it was my wife kneeling, sucking my cock and with the rage building once again I pushed her down with some force so that she fell to the floor. I swiftly removed my clothes and pulled her up onto her knees once again by her hair.

"You little fucking whore" I shouted the words, "you aren't even worthy of sucking my cock, you bitch, you are going to lick my ass and tell me how sorry you are" I turned round bending over the arm of the chair. I felt her hands part my ass cheeks and her soft tongue caress my ass. All the time she was telling me how sorry she was, what a whore she was and how she wanted to make amends.

"Say it with your tongue in my ass, slut!" I shouted she immediately complied, I enjoyed the feeling of humiliating this bitch; her speech was mumbled by the tongue placed in my shit hole, as she begged forgiveness again and again. The tonguing was giving me a rock hard dick and I wanted to relieve the pressure. I stood up, turned round and grabbed her once again by the hair and dragged her over the arm I had just been resting on, ignoring her cries as the balls swung wildly. I pushed my dick forcefully inside her ass, I wasn't interested in her pleasure; she was there to service me. Sadly it wasn't long – just a few minutes in that tight ass before I was pumping her full of cum. I lay across her back for a few moments, my anger now spent, she lay motionless beneath me.

"Well, I am extremely pleased with your first Therapy session, Mr Denham, I will get my slave help so that you leave here refreshed" I had forgotten Mr Thomas was even there, I moved aside and allowed the bitch to struggle up from the arm of the chair: and slowly crawl like a dog over to her Master. I watched Mr Thomas remove the balls and clips from the slave's pussy. He took his time to remove each clip, gazing into the slaves eyes and savouring her gasp as the blood flow rushed back to her tortured pussy lips causing her sharp intense pain. He slowly unscrewed the tit bar, and she gasped again as the blood began to flow back to her blue nipples. She had deep red indentations where the bottle tops had bitten into her sweet soft flesh. Finally, I saw him smile softly at the naked slave knelt before him

"Well done, go and take Mr Denham through to our refreshment area and see that he leaves rejuvenated" She gracefully rose and collected my discarded clothes and, with a tilt of her head, invited me to follow her out of the Therapy Room.

I found she had led me to a wonderfully luxurious bathroom and I gladly spent the next hour being bathed by the beauty I had so happily tortured. I was certainly rejuvenated when I stepped out of the Georgian building; I decided that divorce was not all bad having booked my next appointment for the following week.

© Scarletsubmission 2004