Good to know. And don’t worry! At the Institute, we know just what to do with those who have trouble admitting things.
Behavior correction case file #10011A. Subject was followed, observed and recorded by a specialty team for two weeks before intake, in order to establish an unbiased diagnosis. Subject’s attractiveness is not in question, and indeed monitoring her habits while alone and when consuming pornography indicate no significant problem with nudity in concept or practice. The operative part of her stated problem is indeed a fear of exposure. We will therefore begin with exposure therapy.
Subject will of course be stripped upon intake, and will remain unclothed for the duration of her stay. She will also be blindfolded, and both her vision and her movement will continue to be constrained during each session with her treatment team. Said team will inform and remind her that they were assigned to watch her at all times during the assessment period, through every private moment, and that there is nothing left for her to hide from them. They will reinforce this message with touch therapy and manual stimulus. Subject’s physical arousal will be taken to edge steady-state and held there for the duration of each session; data on the subject so far indicates that such a state will depress her overactive executive function and generally augment the effectiveness of treatment. Only at the conclusion of each session, during an extended orgasm, will the subject’s blindfold be removed long enough for her to be forced to watch herself–exposed and observed at a moment traditionally granted only in intimate settings.
Over time we believe the subject will not merely grow used to nudity, which would be simple to accomplish but also miss the deeper issue. In addition, she will acquire a conditioned arousal response to all feelings of exposure or humiliation that bypasses her hesitation and doubt entirely. Such a response should not only alleviate any sexual performance issues she had experienced in the past, but will make her a valuable addition to the therapy objects stored in Annex G2. This treatment plan gives us, at least, a great deal of confidence.
He kept a Band-Aid and a tiny sterile wipe on him; she’d found them the first time she’d ever sat on top of him and pulled his wallet from his pocket to go through it (smirk on her face, pulse wild in her throat). “What’s this for?” she’d said, wrinkling her nose.
“Accidents,” he’d replied.
“I think most guys carry a condom for that reason.”
“When I do,” he’d said, “there’s nothing accidental about it.”
Now here she was with her legs across his lap, hands behind her on the bench, remembering that afternoon and watching ruefully as he cleaned and bandaged her scrape.
“Ouch!” she said.
“Don’t flinch,” he murmured. “If you’re very brave you’ll get a reward.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. There was a brief cold sting to it as the alcohol evaporated, but the the thing that made her wince was the thought of being seen like this. She’d indulged herself with the mismatched knee socks and pigtails that morning; she hadn’t expected to find herself in this position, her little skater skirt riding up, getting her skinned knee tended to as if… well.
He wasn’t technically old enough to be her father.
“I did tell you to tie your shoe,” he said.
“I know!” she said defensively. “But this girl walked by with a puppy, and–” she swallowed the rest of the sentence before she could dig herself any deeper.
He looked up, eyebrow raised, and offered a smile to someone behind her. She twisted around to see: oh. The woman she’d mentioned, smiling in sympathy, walking up while her dog raced happily around the off-leash park behind them.
“I saw you take a spill there!” she said as she approached. “Everything okay?”
“No permanent injuries,” he said, extending a hand over to shake. “I’m Drew. Fine-looking dog you have there.”
“Thanks!” she said. “I’m Natalie. And this is…”
“And this,” he said amiably, rubbing her leg, “is my little girl.”
She froze, mouth halfway open to introduce herself, suddenly uncertain. She took a breath to say something–but what?
“Fine-looking one you have there yourself,” said Natalie, eyes sparkling. They nodded at each other, very slightly. Then Natalie took a seat behind her on the bench.
What was going on? She still couldn’t seem to find the breath to say anything, but the flush of nerves she’d felt while he was tending to her had graduated to a full-on burning face. She automatically made room, twisting to pull her legs off his lap and sit down between them.
Natalie only moved closer, and casually ran one hand up her back, thumb brushing the nape of her neck over and over in a gentle, soothing motion. It didn’t actually soothe her at all, of course; she sat bolt upright and gripped her Daddy’s arm, mouth half open, unable to think of what to even say to this.
“She seems very sweet-natured,” Natalie smiled, and moved her thumb up to rub lightly under her ear, behind her jaw.
“She is,” he said. He could definitely see what Natalie was doing, but he didn’t seem to mind, and certainly didn’t object. “Doesn’t bite. Except when she’s playing.”
He started scratching the back of her head himself, doing it exactly the way he knew she liked–pushing outward with the backs of his nails, making her instinctively press against them with her head, tingling. Her hands gripped her skirt. Her face was still so hot, but they weren’t doing anything that was actually weird or embarrassing.
Natalie moved the hand at her jaw back to her throat, then ran it down her flank, stroking the thin shirt and making goosebumps rise on her skin. “She do okay with strangers?”
“We’re working on that. Why don’t you try her and see if she behaves?”
Natalie’s lips pressed against her hear, breath warm, lips soft. “Can you present for me, girl?”
She felt that hand drift to the side of her skirt and undo the tab, then to the back, and slide down underneath it. So. Okay. Now they were doing something a little more embarrassing.
But she felt her back arch and her hips push up a little anyway. Doing tricks for a stranger.
He had his hand on her neck now, slowly squeezing, almost holding her by the scruff. His other hand reached across her body and picked up the blue nylon leash from Natalie’s lap. He held it up, examining the clip at the end. “Do you know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about getting one of these?”
“I say stick with a simple one,” smirked Natalie. “Works just as well as the fancy versions.” That cool, careful hand was slipping down into her the back of her panties, one fingertip teasing between her cheeks and making her breath hitch. She was rolled so far forward on her hips now that she was almost off balance, back a shaky arch, shirt tight against her breasts.
She started to say “Daddy, is this something you–”
She started to say “Daddy–I’m all blushy–”
She started to say “Daddy, I’m not a–”
She started to say “Daddy please–”
But all that came out of her throat was a tiny, high-pitched little whine.
Natalie’s hand was underneath her now, cupping her, finding her lips warm and her panties sopping. Natalie’s grin was a bitten lip and a searching expression, looking off in the middle distance with careful, probing fingers that easily wet themselves inside her. Natalie found her clit, and let out a little satisfied “ah.”
Her fists had twisted the skirt into themselves so thoroughly that she was vaguely surprised it hadn’t torn yet. There was no mistaking what was happening now: anyone who glanced across the path from the park would see a girl trapped between a man and a woman, held very still by the neck, while one of them quite obviously worked her pussy as if she were polishing a plaque.
Her face was so hot and she couldn’t seem to breathe all the way in. She felt paralyzed, shaky, helpless, used. She felt so fucking turned on she couldn’t think.
It didn’t take long at all.
When she came it was almost a surprise, and she couldn’t quite contain an embarrassing little grunt as her breath burst out of her. Her belly contracted and she nearly raised her fists to her mouth before she had the presence of mind to force them back into her lap. She felt herself dropping her face to her knees instead, legs shaking, Natalie slowly and carefully pushing her all the way to the end before that wicked hand finally withdrew.
Natalie popped her fingers in her mouth, a deceptively sweet little smile on her face. “Well,” she chuckled, meeting his eyes across her crouched body. “She is just a lovely little thing, isn’t she?”
“As sweet as they come,” he agreed.
Natalie stood and stretched, looking across the park to where her goofy retriever was bounding toward her, stick in his mouth. “Snickers and I should get going,” she said, “but any time you want to meet up for a playdate…”
“Oh, I think I know where to find you,” he said. Natalie grinned, and waved, and was gone.
“Oh my God,” she finally managed to say into her damp and wrinkled skirt.
“Shhhh,” he said, still rubbing the back of her neck. “You did so well, darling girl. Here, let me see your knee.”
She pushed herself up again, not yet steady, feeling as if her face must still be puffy and red from the exertion of… well, holding still. “Did you–was that–do you two–”
“Not something you need to worry about, princess,” he soothed. “Here. I told you if you were very brave you’d get a reward, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she said, fighting to keep her voice in its normal register.
He leaned down, kissed her bandaged knee, and produced a tiny heart sticker from his pocket to stick next to it. “Such a good girl,” he said. “And only getting better.”
All right, nerds, you made me laugh. Special Valentine’s story coming up next.
Sure. The intention for that bit was to let the reader’s imagination run wild, so if you’d prefer not to have your own version of events contradicted, I’ve put the bulk of the post under a cut.