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 ï>¿Perversion Therapy byRatiosÂ(C)

   Perversion Therapy Pt.  01

   Emily walked nervously down the beige corridor of the office building,
scanning placards and numbers on doors until she finally reached number
317. She looked back at the stylized business card in her hand for the
fiftieth time this morning, more to delay the inevitable opening of the
door than to confirm that she was in the right place.

   Dr.  Angela Sherman

   PhD in Clinical Psychology and specialist in Sexual Deviancy and
Dysfunction

   University of Southern Virginia, Hofflander Office Complex, Suite 317

   Please call ahead to make an appointment

   Scribbled on the corner of the card was "Monday, 6PM"; a glance at her
watch confirmed that she was twenty minutes early.  She was in the correct
place at the correct time but, still, anxiety would not quite allow her to
reach forward and grasp the door handle.  Entering this office would
somehow make her problems "real".  It wouldn't be an idle mind and idle
hands any longer; this felt like an admission of guilt.  If anyone from her
accounting firm knew that she was here...

   It was the sudden though of being seen loitering outside the office of a
doctor specializing in sexual dysfunction that that caused Emily to snap
out of her reticence and shoot a fearful glance both ways down the hallway.
Without another thought, she twisted the door handle and moved inside the
office, swiftly and quietly easing the door closed behind her.  Inside, she
let out the breath that she hadn't realized that she had been holding
before gathering herself and turning to face the office.

   Everyone has an idea of what to expect when entering a doctor's office
for the first time: calming wallpaper, a table with ancient magazines,
well-used semi-comfortable bulk seating, some number of fake ferns and or
Ficus trees, and a cork board with a pinned list of the doctor's accolades
and brochures for various treatment options.  You don't expect to see
dozens of bodies engaged in passionate intercourse spread across the walls.

   There was no table with magazines, there were no ferns or Ficus trees,
and the bulk seating had been foregone in favor of two comfortable plush
living room style chairs.  There was a second door in the room across from
the entrance with a small table holding a sign that read "If this door is
closed, I'm with a patient.  Please take a seat and I will be out in time
for the next appointment." Emily did not notice these things straight away
as she was shocked by the black and white photos hung neatly and precisely
at intervals along each wall, right at eye level, depicting two naked
bodies intertwined in sensual pleasure.

   Wide eyed and open mouthed, Emily stared helplessly at the wall
dÃ(C)cor, absently circling the room to take it all in.  Each two foot by
two foot black and white photo depicted a muscular Adonis of a man entwined
with a curvy goddess of a woman in some lewd sexual position.  Each photo
bore a tag.  'Hansa-Lila' displayed the woman sitting on top of the man,
facing away from him but with their pelvises aligned, her feet stretched
back towards his chest.  'Lotus' showed the woman sitting on the man's
crossed legs, her own legs wrapped around his back.  Indrani showed the
woman on her back, legs up on the man's shoulders as, Emily imagined, he
powerfully thrust into her.

   The photographs, while incendiary, stopped short of actually showing any
breasts or genitals due to well-placed draped limbs or the angle of the
camera shot.  This left Emily's mind to fill in all the details as her
thoughts whirled with erotic contemplation.  After making a slow rotation
of the room, Emily glanced at her watch in embarrassment and realized that
she had been staring at the photos for nearly ten minutes straight; much
longer than her conservative mind deemed appropriate.  When she finally
pulled herself away, she closed her eyes and bowed her head to mutter a
prayer of apology, capping this off with a kiss to a small golden crucifix
hanging from a chain around her neck.

   Moving to one of the plush chairs in the corner of the room, she forced
herself to sit.  Now purposefully avoiding the perverse art with her eyes,
she glanced around at other sparse accommodations and saw the sign asking
her to wait, as well as a few clipped articles and a diploma displayed on
the opposite wall for Dr.  Angela Sherman.  Well, at least she was in the
right location.

   Keeping her eyes cast downward was a challenge; they kept wandering up
to stare at the debauchery depicted on the walls above.  After a few
moments of glancing back and forth, she found herself subconsciously
rubbing her legs together though her jeans while blatantly staring at a
nearby photo depicting the curvy woman bent over at the waist with the man
standing behind, grasping her hips.  As she gawked, the door to the inner
office swung open and a woman stepped out.  Emily gave a surprised yelp and
jumped to her feet in embarrassment.

   The blonde woman standing in the door was about the same height as Emily
but the similarity between the two ended there.  Emily was twenty nine and
considered herself of average build where the other woman appeared to be in
her early twenties and was fit and toned all over.  Emily's shoulder length
brown hair was usually worn simple and straight; the blonde had perfectly
preened waves and eye catching red highlights.  Where Emily rarely wore
makeup to accentuate her blue eyes and small mouth, the blonde went all out
with bright red lipstick, teasing blush, flirty eyeliner for her sparkling
green eyes.  Emily was still dressed from work a plain white blouse and
dark blazer combination where the other woman had a sleeveless chiffon top
with bare shoulders and a plunging neckline with, from what Emily could
tell, no sign of a bra.  Where Emily usually wore jeans out casually or
suit pants while at work, the woman in the doorway was wearing a pleated
skirt that barely came down to mid-thigh and her long, tan legs were
perfectly shaved.  Emily's feet bore sensible flats where the woman was
propped up by bright red stiletto heels with red wrappings twining up her
lower legs, roman style, drawing the viewer's eyes up the beautiful woman's
perfectly tanned legs towards the flaring ruffles of her short skirt.

   The thought floated through Emily's mind that she looked like a dowdy
school matron next to the dazzling creature in front of her.  Emily
realized she had been staring at the stranger's body for an exceptionally
long period of time and forced her eyes up to the woman's face only to
discover that the woman was staring back at her and smiling broadly.

   Before Emily could process what was happening, the gorgeous woman took
three long strides forward to stop just in front of her, canting her hips
to one side, and blatantly gazing up and down Emily's body like a butcher
sizing up a slab of meat.  Emily stood frozen as the beautiful girl
finished her appraisal and took another step closer.  Mere inches now
separated the two and Emily's eyes were locked on to the young woman's;
Emily realized she was holding her breath.

   The young woman gently reached out and gently ran her hand down Emily's
arm to her hip, her smile widening when Emily flinched and drew back.

   "Staring and salivating but in denial that you like what you see, huh?
Aren't you a cute one."

   Without breaking eye contact, the blonde called back over her shoulder,
"Doctor Angela, you have another patient out here.  Better hurry; this one
looks like she needs a lot of help."

   With a wink, she finally turned away and walked to the outer door then
paused for a moment to look at Emily one more time.  "The doc is a miracle
worker.  Do everything she says and you'll make it through to the other
side.  Trust her." With that, she opened the door and disappeared through
it.

   Emily was left with nothing but a confusing warmth in her belly and the
lingering smell of cinnamon.  This was not at all how she had expected her
evening to begin.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Five minutes later Emily found herself sitting upright on one side of a
comfortable sofa in a wood paneled office, nervously fidgeting with a small
loose string on the bottom of her blouse and trying not to stare at the
attractive woman sitting in the chair across from her.  Dr.  Sherman cut
the perfect image of alluring yet professional with a straight skirt to
just above the knee, stockings underneath, a long sleeved blouse with just
the top three buttons undone, an unbuttoned suit jacket, stylish glasses,
and patent leather heels; Emily's first thought upon seeing her was that
she looked like a sexy librarian.  As soon as that term ran through her
head, she had immediately felt ashamed and now studiously refused to look
at the doctor.

   The other woman broke the silence first.

   "Emily, what brings you here today?"

   Emily dithered with the thread for a few seconds longer and then drew up
the courage to begin.

   "I work as an accountant at a firm downtown, Huxton and Crawford.  A few
months ago a new girl, Shannon, started at reception and, since that time,
I feel like my life has been slowly falling apart."

   The doctor jotted a note on her pad and asked, "What makes you think
that?"

   "At first, everything was fine.  Shannon isn't that much younger than
me, just a few years, and we interacted politely.  After a couple of weeks
though, she started to think of me as more of a friend or confidant or
something.  I guess, because we're the only two women in our office, she
must have been reading more into our interactions than I intended because
she just started sharing...  everything...  with me about her life."

   Emily raised her eyes to meet the doctor's for the first time since
entering the room and continued.  "She tells me the nastiest stories.  She
talks about her revolving door boyfriends and her constant sexual
escapades. She talks about threesomes with other women and meeting with
swingers, and sleeping with married guys just for kicks."

   Sitting ramrod straight and wringing her hands, but also subconsciously
rubbing her thighs together, Emily found herself unable to stop speaking.

   "Shannon told me a story last week about getting drunk at a strip bar
downtown and getting convinced by some of the guys there to go up on stage
and take her clothes off!  She apparently went home with a group of the
guys and told me that 'they gang banged the shit out of me all night long.'
She told me she's on the pill so she never makes guys use condoms.  She
talks about cum like it's a drug.  Every few days there's a new story.  At
first, I didn't know if she was making everything up or if she really was
the biggest slut on the planet; I figured she was just trying to puff
herself up and I ignored it.  Then she started showing me pictures."

   Emily shuddered for a moment before continuing.

   "Oh god, doctor...  I didn't bother to tell her to stop in the beginning
because I wanted to be a good friend.  Now, I don't know that I could ask
her to stop if I wanted.  I find myself having sick dreams every night
based on the wicked things she's told me and shown me.  I find myself
touching myself subconsciously through the course of the day.  I'll be
driving down the road and start picturing an orgy in my head and almost
cause an accident.  I haven't had a boyfriend in almost a year now because
of all the drama in my last relationship but this is making me feel like I
need ten guys to have their way with me to find satisfaction."

   Leaning forward and looking at the doctor with pleading eyes, Emily
begged, "Please, doctor...  I like to think of myself as a good Catholic
woman.  I shouldn't be having these thoughts.  I shouldn't want to keep
hearing these stories.  What is wrong with me?  Can you help me escape the
pull of these fantasies?"

   Plea finished, Emily let out a shuddering breath and slumped back into
her seat, eyes downcast, as her thighs slowly continued to grind together.

   Dr.  Sherman sat her pad down and brought her hands to rest on top of
her crossed knees.  She considered for a moment and then answered.

   "I think I understand what's going on in your life and I've seen this
situation many times before.  You are a good woman with somewhat limited
sexual experience and a conservative worldview being exposed to the most
extreme types of sexual ideation without any transition period.  You feel
like you are on the cusp on a self-discovery that you are afraid might
change your life forever in a way you don't think you want.  Does this
sound familiar so far?

   The doctor paused while Emily nodded in mute helplessness, and then
continued.

   "The difference between your sexual expectations and sexual reality is
now causing tension in your mind.  Tension without action creates pressure,
and, while pressure can make diamonds, it can also lead to obsession or
breakdown.  It's good that you came to see me specifically because I have a
treatment that I have been developing for exactly this sort of situation.
The treatment is called Perversion Therapy.  You may have heard of Aversion
Therapy, where you associate a negative stimulus with negative behaviors or
thoughts; my version is similar, but specifically designed to address
sexual dysfunction in women with overly active sexual appetites but limited
experience.  There is a trial of the treatment going on right now that's
showing excellent results.  I think you would see a major positive change
in your life if you were to participate.  Are you willing to do what it
takes to free your mind?"

   The relief that washed over Emily was palpable.  She clasped her hands
together and lifted them up, telling the doctor, "Yes, please, I'll do
anything."

   Dr.  Sherman smiled and leaned forward, once again catching Emily's
eyes.

   "Remember you said that.  The treatment can be tough, but I guarantee
you'll see positive change if you stick with it.  Let me get you started on
the paperwork and then we can discuss the particulars of how this will
work."

   The doctor stood and walked behind her desk, opening a drawer to
retrieve a small set of keys.  She continued to a filing cabinet in the
corner, unlocked the top drawer, and withdrew a thick folder filled with
paper.  Emily's eyes followed her movements the entire way, snapping back
to her own lap as the doctor relocked the drawer and turned around.  The
doctor then walked over to the short glass coffee table in center of the
room and placed the file down along with an expensive looking pen.

   "This is all the medical and legal paperwork pertaining to your
participation in the trial.  I apologize for the low table, but I don't
want to block off patients who choose to lie down on the sofa for our
sessions.  If you would like, you can sit on the floor to fill everything
out."

   Grateful to be on the cusp of receiving the help she believed herself to
need, Emily moved to sit cross legged on the floor and picked up the
provided pen to fill out her forms.

   Meanwhile, the doctor busied herself around the office for a few minutes
before resuming her seat directly in front of Emily to read through some
medical papers of her own.

   Going through the stack, Emily was comfortable at first.  The top forms
were for standard identifying information like name, address, SSN, history
of health problems, current medications, and so on.  Several forms down the
stack, Emily signed a form certifying that she consented to participate in
the trial and recognizing that, since this was a developmental process,
there may be some unexpected activities and results.  As she want deeper
into the stack, Emily began to feel embarrassment creeping in about some of
the questions she was meant to answer.  One form asked nothing but probing
sexual questions, starting with tamer, but getting more uncomfortable as
she went.

   Have you had sex before? Yes

   When was the last time you had sex? 13 months

   How many partners? 2

   Men, women, both? Just men, women would be immoral

   Have you ever had sex with multiple partners? No!

   Have you masturbated before?  *Emily squirmed at this* Yes

   Fingers, toys, both? Fingers

   How often do you masturbate?  *Emily's cheeks glowed red with
embarrassment as she wrote: Almost never before, but several times per
week now

   Anal?  *Ew* Never

   Multiple partners? No

   Birth control? None, Catholic

   When was your last period? Eight days

   How regular is your period? Usually within two days

   How often do you watch pornography?  *Emily frowned at this* Not since
college

   What kind of pornography do you watch?

   At this point, Emily looked up from the embarrassing form to ask the
doctor if such a level of personal detail was necessary but felt her breath
catch in her throat before she could speak.  Since she was sitting on the
floor and the doctor was sitting on a chair, Emily's raised eyes were
perfectly level with the hem of the doctor's skirt as it rested on the
doctor's knees.  Dr.  Sherman's legs were crossed at the knee, but Emily
could just barely make out the tops of the doctor's stockings partway up
the underside of her thighs.  Emily felt another rush of warmth enter her
belly and start to drift lower.  Catching herself staring, she tore her
focus from the doctor and forced herself focus back to the paperwork.

   Despite looking away, all Emily could think of were long, smooth legs
and peeking garter clasps.  Without processing, she continued answering
questions about her turn ons, her most persistent fantasies, and the sex
acts that shamed her the most.

   After the forms delving into what she was now thinking of as her sexual
delinquency, came the waivers.  Skimming through, still thinking of the
doctor's assets, Emily signed a form releasing the doctor and university of
liability for negative effects experienced as part of the trial, and
another warning that partial completion of any psychological treatment
could be harmful and signifying that she could be compelled to finish if
the doctor deemed it necessary.  Next was a non-disclosure agreement,
swearing that she would not discuss the treatment, her participation in it,
or any details surrounding the trial with any other person, under penalty
of a heavy monetary fine.

   The next form in the stack was a release giving the doctor legal
ownership of any media (writings, recordings, forms, or video) collected
during the treatment.  Frowning at the idea, Emily came out of her reverie
and looked up to the doctor to ask what media might be collected.  Once
again, the question froze in her throat as her gaze was caught unexpectedly
before her eyes finished their journey all the way up.  This time, Dr. 
Sherman had her legs crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee... 
Emily could just barely see all the way up to the doctor's crotch to see
that the doctor was not wearing any underwear!  Having not seen such an
intimate view of another woman since her high school locker room, Emily was
stunned, but found herself unable to stop tracing the lines of the doctor's
thighs, stockings, garters, and vagina with her eyes.

   A gentle cough after an indeterminate eternity broke Emily's trance; she
realized in a panic that she had been caught staring up the other woman's
skirt!  In tolerant silence, the doctor stood and walked around her chair
to lean against her mahogany desk, her eyes fixed on Emily, leaving the
blushing younger woman to sputter a muddled apology and bring her unfocused
gaze back to her paperwork.  Mind spinning with shameful thoughts Emily
kept her eyes down and hastily finished the remaining pages, signing the
media release, providing information on social media accounts, filling out
an emergency contact form that asked for several work contacts (including
her boss) and contact information for her direct family members, a list of
people she had previously dated, and a few more items.  After an eternity
of staring at the text of the already signed last page without actually
reading anything, she gently sat the pen on the stack and pushed the papers
away on the table without looking up.

   After a moment, the doctor came by, collected the signed forms, skimmed
through to check them, and deposited them back in the file cabinet before
relocking it.  Pausing for a beat, she then turned around and proceeded
back to her chair, overtly taking deliberate care to pull her skirt down in
the front.

   They sat for a few moments in awkward silence, Emily's gaze averted,
before she finally mustered the courage to meet the doctor's eyes again. 
The other woman gave her a forgiving smile and then, mercifully, began to
speak about the treatment rather than Emily's previous indiscretion.

   "First, let's start with a little expectation setting.  There are no
quick fixes where psychology is concerned.  It's going to take dedication,
effort, and discomfort to undo all the knots in your mind.  Some of the
things that are going to be required of you might be unusual or
embarrassing, but they are all in service of getting your mind where it
needs to be.  Know that things might get a little worse before they get
better but know that I am going to be here guiding you through your entire
journey.  It's crucial that you stick through this process to the end or
irreparable damage could be done.  OK?"

   Emily meekly nodded and the doctor continued.

   "Your friend Shannon unlocked a Pandora's box in your mind, opening your
psyche up to a litany of perverse fantasies that you were not equipped to
deal with in a healthy manner.  In order to address these newly embedded
perversions, first we must identify the triggers that are specific to you
and your dysfunction.  With that goal in mind, your assignment for the next
week is going to be to explore your sexual fantasies.  I am going to give
you a list of erotic websites and your goal will be to spend at least one
hour each night until our next session one week from today, analyzing a
variety of videos to investigate what scenarios, behaviors, actions, or
fetishes most arouse you."

   This pronouncement was met with a moment of stunned silence from the
younger woman before she found her voice.

   "You want...  you want me to watch porn?  As a treatment?"

   The doctor shook her head and corrected, "No, no, the treatment comes
later.  Before you can fix a problem, you have to define its scope.  Think
of this as the x-ray to identify where a fracture is before bone is set."

   Wrapping her head around this idea was difficult for Emily, but the
logic almost made sense.

   "OK, if this is what will free me of these deviant shackles, I'll do
it."

   The doctor nodded and stood, prompting Emily to stand as well.  Emily
followed the doctor to the door, unable to keep herself from watching the
sway of the other woman's hips as she walked.  Once again the doctor's
voice snapped her out of a reverie.

   "I have your email address from the paperwork.  I will send you a link
to the websites I mentioned as well as well as a program you'll need to
install on any computer used to complete these assignments so your progress
can be tracked.  I'll set up your next appointment for a week from today,
same time, alright?"

   Emily could only mutter an embarrassed acceptance as she squeezed past
the other woman to flee the office.

   ****

   An hour later, Emily was at home on the couch in sweat pants and a tee
shirt with a glass of white wine, flipping through TV channels, pretending
that she wasn't avoiding her laptop which was sitting just a few feet away.
She had been home for half an hour and had, so far, found nothing she could
concentrate on for more than a moment at a time due to a growing level of
arousal that she was trying to suppress.  Powering off the TV in
frustration, she turned to stare at the innocent computer in an almost
accusatory manner.  Gathering no response from the inanimate object, she
finally bolted down the last bit of her wine and moved the computer to rest
on her knees with her feet raised on the couch's reclining foot rest.

   Powering on the device, she opened her email and found three unread
messages:

   -A sales pitch from a clothes website she made a single purchase from
several years ago that didn't care that they had sent her the wrong size
pants and that she was never going to buy from again

   -A photo update on her sister's home remodel project

   -A message titled simply: "This week's assignment"

   Ignoring the first two, she opened the message from the doctor and found
a simple note with two attachments.

   At least one hour per night spent watching material found at one of the
sites listed in the attached docx file.  Remember to install the attached
tracking software before you begin; it will help you catalog your reaction
to various stimuli so we can plan your path to recovery.  Dr.  S

   Emily looked at the attachments and first double clicked on
dsk_ctrl.exe. A black box popped up on her screen for a moment followed by
a message asking if she would like to allow the program to make changes on
her computer.  She clicked yes and then the black box returned for a few
seconds, followed by her webcam light blinking a few times, followed by
nothing.

   "That was weird," she thought to herself.

   After waiting another moment for something more to happen, she assumed
the program was done with whatever it needed to do and opened the other
attachment.  Emily hadn't watched much porn in her life, but even she
recognized most of the links on the list as some of the most popular adult
sites on the internet.  She read through the list of sites half a dozen
times, as if one more glance through would reveal an option that wasn't as
terribly embarrassing to contemplate clicking on as the others.  Deciding
that this called for more wine, she quickly got up and retrieved the rest
of the bottle from her kitchen counter before returning to the couch. 
After refilling her glass and taking another large gulp, she returned her
focus to the list and clicked on one of the links at random.

   The page that popped up made Emily shiver with involuntary anticipation.
A grid of video previews depicting people in the midst of various sex acts
dominated the center of the page with a list of search options at the top
and an ad on one side promising to find horny women in her neighborhood if
she clicked it.

   The though ran through her mind unbidden, "If only they knew, there's
one right here."

   Her hungry eyes devoured the thumbnails presented to them.  A young
woman in a bikini on her knees with a large black penis draped over her
face.  A view up a girl's skirt as she rode an escalator, seemingly unaware
that she was being exposed from behind.  Two attractive young girls naked
in a bubble bath.  A young man and woman feeling each other up on a couch
with a title claiming them to be step siblings.  These images and more
assaulted her mind as she wondered what she should click on.  After closely
examining over a dozen previews, she returned to the video of the woman on
the escalator and, with a brief flash in her mind of the view up the
doctor's skirt from earlier in the evening, clicked on it.

   The video popped up in a new tab but, before it actually started to
play, a window popped up with a question, "Why did you select this video?"
with a blinking prompt in a text box where she could answer.

   Emily was confused for a moment before realizing that this had to be the
software that the doctor had had her install to help track her exploration.
Unwilling to admit to herself or the doctor that she was watching the video
because she had lingering memories of seeing up the doctor's skirt
previously, she lied and typed "random" before clicking the Submit button.

   The box went away and the video began to play; "Babe in thong in subway
station, candid".  From the shoddy quality and swaying shot, it looked like
someone had a camera in handheld bag or purse and was following an
attractive woman in a short skirt as she exited a subway car and made her
way through the station and out to the street.

   Emily thought to herself, "God, what kind of creep would try to take
pictures up a girl's dress?!?  Why am I even watching this video?"

   Despite these objections, she found herself drawn in by the sway of the
filmed woman's hips and felt her heartbeat hastening and her breath
becoming shallower.  After a minute of the camera following behind the
woman as she walked across the platform away from the train, the woman
stepped onto an escalator and the person with the camera moved forward
slightly to catch a perfect shot up the woman's skirt!  Emily quickly hit
the spacebar to pause the video, capturing a perfectly framed shot of the
woman's bright green thong panties barely covering her crotch, running back
to disappearing between the woman's cheeks.

   It seemed that time froze for Emily as sharply as it had in the paused
video; her breath was unintentionally held and her eyes were open and
unblinking as she took in the sight in front of her.  A distinct tingling
was beginning to radiate from Emily's lap that had nothing to do with the
computer resting on it.  Subconsciously, one of Emily's hands moved from
resting on the front lip of the laptop to gently touch her right thigh, at
first just resting on top and then slightly caressing.

   After a moment, Emily drew a slightly shuddering breath and unpaused. 
The video only lasted another half a minute as the woman got to the top of
the escalator and started walking down the busy street.  Emily found
herself hoping for one last peek at the woman's assets but nearby crowds
soon forced the pursuer to stop following and the video ended, leaving
Emily longing for more.

   As the video came to an end, the question box popped up again asking,
"How did the video make you feel?"

   Now that was a question.  How did she feel?  Any why?

   After staring at the keyboard for a few seconds, Emily typed, "The
premise was kind of exciting but the guy is a creep and I don't like girls"
and quickly hit Submit.

   Emily returned to the main page and, this time, clicked on a video at
random with a thumbnail depicting a man standing between a woman's legs in
a dark bedroom.  When the expected question box popped up asking why she
selected the video, she once again typed "random", though this time
honestly.

   The scene, "Neighbor fucks cheating wife while hubby films", started
with a middle aged woman sitting on the edge of a bed making out with an
older guy.  Emily watched passively for a few minutes as the two progressed
from groping, to removing clothes, to putting on a condom, and then the
older guy rutting on top of the wife.  She closed out the video early to
find something else and the question box popped up to ask her how the video
made her feel.

   "Hmm, 'bored' I guess," she thought and then answered.

   Back on the main page, Emily clicked on a few more clips seemingly at
random and answered the usual questions vaguely.  She watched "Teen girl
seduces step brother", "College student's first time", "Goddess foot
worship" and a few others with mild interest.  The selection process was
now random and she answered the entry questions as such.  Each was arousing
in its own right but none spoke to her quite as directly as the first clip
so her answers grew vague; sexy, he was cute, she had cute nail polish. 
She felt herself slowly growing hornier but resisting the urge to seek
release.  This was a medical treatment; she wasn't here to get off.

   Next up, she quickly closed out of a video called "Scat kitten" that
turned out to be a young woman playing with her own excrement with a surge
of revulsion.  After that came was a censored video of a Japanese woman
playing some sort of game show where she was made to do embarrassing sexual
tasks in front of a crowd for prizes.  Emily felt the familiar tingling
return to her nether area and a vague arousal at the idea of the woman's
predicament but, due to the language barrier, couldn't really follow what
was going on.  "Intriguing idea but poor execution" was her response to the
exit question.

   "Am I really giving reviews to random Japanese porn now?  How did I get
here?" she distantly wondered to herself.  Despite this, she returned to
the main page and continued browsing.

   As she scrolled through the Popular Videos section on the main page when
a clip caught her eye called "Five guys creampie real estate agent".  The
reason the video had grabbed her attention was the fact that the woman from
the clip looked a lot like Emily when she was in her work clothes; shoulder
length straight brown hair, small nose, small breasts, blouse and dark
jacket, suit pants, black flats.  The woman from the video was slightly
younger and slightly skinnier but Emily could definitely imagine herself in
the other woman's place.

   When she opened the video and the question box popped up, she entered
"she looks like me" as a reason for her selection.  The scene started
playing with the professional looking woman leading a mixed race crowd of
rowdy looking guys on a tour of a very nice looking house.  The guys were
clearly checking the woman out and heavily flirting with her.  Eventually,
the tour came to the bedroom and one of the guys asked the agent how far
she was willing to go make a sale.  The agent was reluctant at first but,
under pressure from the guys, her resistance was quickly worn down and she
soon found herself sitting on the edge of the bed with two guys seated
beside her.  One was deeply kissing her and rubbing one of her breasts
while the other licked her shoulder and was rubbing the crotch of her
pants.

   As Emily watched the scene unfold, she was struck by how easily the
professional businesswoman had gone from responsibly executing her duty to
being nervously coaxed down onto her knees to messily suck the penises of
multiple men.  Emily's right hand made its way between her legs to gently
rub the front of her sweatpants and she let out a slow exhale as she
continued to focus on the action as it unfolded.  She couldn't help but to
imagine what she would do if she were in the place of the other woman; just
another day at work meeting prospective clients for the first time when
they discover and take advantage of her recently instilled deviancy,
leading her to do shameful and perverted things for their pleasure.  She
found herself biting her bottom lip but ignored the pain as she continued
to focus on the shameful things being done to the poor real estate agent.

   In the video, first the woman was on her knees servicing the men with
her mouth, then she was stripped and laid on the bed.  Soon after, the men
were crowded around to grope and have sex with her, quickly moving her
between multiple positions, treating her like an object.  Soon, a second
man joined the first, and then soon after a third; now three men were
actively pumping in and out of the poor real estate agent's holes at the
same time.  The hand on the front of Emily's pants transitioned from a
gentle caress to an urgent rubbing as the woman on the screen was made to
do more and more degrading things.  As the woman was penetrated from the
rear, Emily's legs spread further.  As a second man put his penis in the
woman's face and she started to suck him while being pounded from behind,
Emily's muscles tightened and her breathing started to become ragged.

   When the woman on the screen warned the guys not to cum inside her as
wasn't on birth control, Emily moaned loudly and Shannon's voice came
unbidden to her mind, bragging about how good cum feels splashing around
inside you.  She bit her lip harder in shame and found herself having
especially nasty thoughts about her proxy on the screen.

   "Oh god, what if they cum inside you anyway?  If you act like a slut
they're sure to treat you like a slut.  You know you deserve it."

   It didn't take long to see that the men agreed with this thought.  Soon,
the man pumping into the agent thrust balls deep into her unprotected
vagina and started to grunt and moan and Emily too found herself cumming.
Her toes curled, her leg muscles locked, and her breath stuck in her throat
as she furiously rubbed the front of her sweatpants.  Abdominal muscles
pulsing, eyes closed tightly, and mouth clenched tightly, Emily had the
most powerful orgasm of her adult life.  As she continued to rub with
reckless abandon and her body shook in ecstasy, a gush of warm liquid
soaked the front of her pants.

   Breath shuddering, it took Emily a few minutes to recover and to take
stock.  The video was still playing and Emily hit the space bar to pause it
before quickly, without giving herself time to think, clickeing the button
to make a favorite of the video.  As she did this, she noticed that she was
leaving a sticky smear on each key she pressed and looked at her hand and
then her pants.  The hand was damp and the dark pants had an obvious large
circle of wetness; the air stank with her aroma.

   "Shit shit shit!" she exclaimed as she quickly tossed the laptop onto
the adjacent recliner and hopped up off the couch.  "SHIT!" she yelled as
she saw the large round wet spot on the couch cushion she had just been
sitting on.  She quickly pulled off her pants and underwear then noticed
that the bottom of her shirt was wet too, so she ditched that as well. 
Running to the bedroom, she dropped the clothes in the hamper and then
grabbed a bath towel out of the linen closet.  The next few minutes were
spent hastily trying to soak her own juices out of the couch fabric.

   By the time she finished her cleanup, she felt exhausted beyond any
recent time she could recall.  Her thighs were sticky, her muscles were
strained, she was dehydrated, and she noticed that her lip had had been
bleeding where she had been biting it.  She went to the kitchen to get a
glass of water and, while drinking, glanced up at the kitchen clock before
gasping, inhaling some water, and throwing herself into a coughing fit.

   "Holy crap, it's after midnight!" she sputtered to herself as she wiped
water off her naked chest with her hands.  She had been watching porn for
over four hours!

   It was highly unusual for the normally fastidious Emily to go to bed
without brushing her teeth, and she usually wore pajamas, or at least a
shirt and underwear, to bed, but tonight she had no energy left to deal
with any of that.  Stopping only briefly to pee and to halfheartedly dab at
her sticky thighs with toilet paper, she promised herself that she would
shower and clean up in the morning and rationalized that she needed sleep
more than anything else at this point; she had to be up in just over six
hours for work.

   Falling face first into the mattress, she took a mental review of
herself.

   "I stink of sex, I'm covered in my own juices, I'm bleeding, and I just
spent hours watching porn.  God, what is wrong with me?!?  I'm turning into
a whore..."

   This was her last thought as she drifted off into unconsciousness. 
Mercifully, she was too exhausted to dream and stir until her alarm went
off at 7AM.



   Perversion Therapy Pt.  02

   Arriving at Dr.  Sherman's office was less eventful for Emily this week.
After seven nights worth of exploration online, the art in the waiting room
seemed almost tame by comparison and the blonde bombshell from the previous
week was nowhere to be found.

   When Emily saw that the door to the doctor's inner office was already
open, she experienced a brief, but confusing, twinge of disappointment,
leading her to the realization that she had been hoping to see the
provocative woman again.  Emily briefly pondered what this discovery might
mean before discarding the thought in favor of walking to the opened door
and knocking on the frame to announce her presence.

   The doctor, seated at her desk and focused on her computer, looked up
from her work and smiled at Emily, waving for her to come in.  Emily made
her way to the sofa and fell onto it in exhaustion, discarding her purse
and flats to the side and stretching out on her back with her head propped
up by an armrest.

   Dr.  Sherman came over and took her seat opposite Emily and watched the
younger woman positioning herself before offering up, "Good evening Emily.
How is everything going with the therapy plan?"

   Now fully laid out on the couch, Emily let out a slow breath before
responding tiredly, "It's been kind of a crappy week, Doctor.  This is
proving harder than I thought it was going to be."

   "Why don't you tell me about everything?  How do you think your online
exploration assignment has been working out?"

   Emily looked towards the doctor to make a response but then noticed a
new addition to the room.  Behind the doctor's current seat, on the left
side of the desk on the far side of the room, there was now a video camera
on a small tripod pointed at the couch upon which Emily was laying.  Cables
ran from the camera to the computer on the desk and a red light on the
front of the camera was glowing steadily.

   Glancing between the doctor and the camera several times, Emily pointed
and asked, "What's that for?"

   Dr.  Sherman turned to follow Emily's gesture and then looked back to
explain.  "All steps of your treatment project will be recorded.  This is
an experimental trial, if you remember, and we're constantly refining the
process based on observed results.  This was all covered in the paperwork
you signed during our last session.  Don't worry though; all materials
gathered during the program will only be used for the purposes of the
program.  Now, back to your experiences this last week.  How has your
exploration assignment been going?"

   Emily nervously stared at the camera for a moment longer before
returning her gaze to the doctor.  Sagging even deeper into the couch
cushions, she asked, "Doesn't your computer program thingy give you all the
information you need?  Do I really have to talk about this stuff in
person?"

   The doctor considered this for a moment and responded, "The monitoring
program definitely gives me some information, but this entire process is
about unraveling the tangles in your mind, so the best feedback will always
come directly from you.  Part of the issue here is that the most deviant
impulses in your brain are buried.  We have to dig them up and expose them
to the daylight so that you can accept them and move on.  There may well be
some discomfort along the way but you should definitely not be ashamed of
your actions while you are participating in this treatment.  Openness and
honesty are your best tools for moving forward here, both with me and with
yourself."

   Emily had a moment to think on this before the doctor continued, "Why
don't you start by walking me through the events of the last week and just
include what you consider to be important."

   Emily closed her eyes and crossed her hands on her stomach.  She flexed
her bare toes a few times while gathering herself and then began her story.

   "Last Monday night was...  I don't even know how to describe it.  I
normally don't approve of...  porn, so finding myself forced to watch it...
Well, I didn't know where to start or where to stop.  I drank almost an
entire bottle of wine and..." Emily faltered here.

   "Go on," the doctor gently prompted.

   "I drank a bottle of wine and I..." *long exhale "I touched myself on
the sofa.  For hours.  I don't think I went to bed until after midnight. 
Oh Jesus, this is embarrassing," Emily cried, throwing an arm up over her
eyes and shaking her head.

   Silence settled between the two until Emily composed herself and
continued.

   "I was a mess at work on Tuesday.  I was drained from not getting enough
sleep and every time I tried to start working, one of the videos I watched
the night before would start playing in my head and I would be too
distracted to get anything done.  I sent one of our clients the wrong
spreadsheet and one of the partners yelled at me!  I've never gotten yelled
at by my boss before!  I think Shannon even knew something was wrong
because she asked me if I was OK.  I kind of just brushed her off...  At
least she didn't try to tell me one of her crazy stories.  I don't know
that I could have handled it."

   "Tuesday night, I almost didn't watch any videos.  In the end, I
convinced myself that I would tough it out for the week to see how things
went and set a one hour timer on my phone.  The next few nights I did the
same thing and watched videos from random sites from your list for one hour
before I went to bed.  I tried to keep from touching myself..."

   "You mean masturbating?", the doctor interrupted.

   Cheeks glowing red, Emily glanced sharply at the camera and hesitated
before giving a sheepish nod.  "Yeah...  masturbating.  I tried to keep it
analytical, but there were a few nights that I couldn't help myself.  I try
to just watch, comment, and move on, you know?  But it's so hard to stay
detached sometimes.  There was one video where a young woman was being led
on a leash naked down a busy street while strangers stopped to fondle her
and take pictures.  Oh god, I almost had an orgasm just watching her get
groped by tourists on a city sidewalk!  I was trying to be as distant and
analytical as possible but I couldn't help myself.  I rubbed my underwear
until I came again.  God...  Sometimes it feels like my body betrays me and
I end up hating myself for it, thinking I need to be punished or something.
Is that...  I don't know...  normal?"

   Dr.  Sherman finished making a note then sat her pen down on her pad and
fixed her gaze on Emily.  "There were a number of things I would like to
touch on from your report.  Let's go through them item by item.  First,
we'll address the idea of whether the way your mind works is 'normal' or
not."

   "Every mind is unique and there is no benefit to be gained by comparing
yourself to anybody else.  Especially while undergoing psychiatric
treatment, you can't expect an uninterrupted, standard daily routine.  My
advice is to set the expectation that your life is going to be a little
strange, sometimes uncomfortable, or possibly even a little painful for the
next few months until we can help you work through your issues and create a
new 'normal' that you can live with.  OK?"

   Emily nodded meekly in acceptance and looked down at her hands to ponder
what kind of chaos her life might resemble during the rest of the
treatment. After half a moment, Dr.  Sherman continued.  "Now, let's
discuss the way you're feeling towards your own body."

   As the doctor spoke, Emily watched her stand, smoothing down her knee
length skirt, and then start to pace back and forth in the open space to
the right of her chair and desk.  Emily tracked the other woman's movements
and tried to pay attention to the Doctor's words, but her attention was
distracted by the snug fit of the doctor's skirt and the curves hidden
beneath it as emphasized by the designer heels Dr.  Sherman was wearing. 
The sensual sway of the other woman's hips as she walked was almost
hypnotic.  Attempting to snap her focus away from the doctor's assets,
Emily forced her attention upwards, but only got so far as noting the bare
shoulders that were visible through the doctor's open blouse collar and
wondered what she would be able to see if only more than just the top two
buttons of the other woman's white designer blouse were undone.

   Unable to stop herself, Emily's attention once again roved lower,
studying the doctor's trim waist and swaying hips.  Idly, Emily thought to
herself that the lay of the other woman's skirt did not betray a visible
panty line.  This was immediately followed by the memory of the view up the
doctor's skirt from the previous week which abruptly shined behind Emily's
eyes with the intensity of the sun.  After a rapturous period of blindness
to everything except that enticing mental image, Emily realized that she
had not been listening to anything the doctor had said for several minutes
so she frightfully snapped her attention back to the doctor's face. 
Luckily, it seemed that the still speaking doctor had not noticed her
patient's improperly directed attention and seemed to be just finishing up
an explanation.

   "...a deeper level of engagement but also a better acceptance of
yourself, your body, and your mental state.  Can you agree to that?" The
doctor turned to look pointedly at Emily, obviously waiting for a response.

   Embarrassed at her own wandering thoughts, and hopelessly lost in the
conversation, Emily didn't know what question had been asked so she simply
nodded her head and hoped that would be sufficient to get beyond the
moment.

   The doctor returned the nod and said, "Excellent, you can begin now."

   Confused, Emily realized that she had missed more than she had realized
and cleared her throat to stall for time.  When the silence began to
stretch on and answers were not forthcoming, she carefully asked, "...and
how would you suggest that I do so?"

   "I would recommend you start by removing your jacket.  I know this may
be uncomfortable for you, but that's part of the point: to get you used to
such discomfort so you can move past it and focus on your treatment."

   Under the doctor's penetrating gaze, Emily swallowed hard, sat up
straight, and wondered, "What did I just agree to?" As she thought this,
she shrugged first her right and then left shoulders back to pull off the
suit jacket, folded it evenly by the collar, and sat it on the headrest on
the other end of the sofa.

   The doctor nodded once again and said, "And now your blouse."

   Panicked, Emily thought, "What the hell?" but found herself unwilling to
raise an argument as she would then have to admit that she had ignored the
other woman in order to fantasize about the view up her skirt.  With a
small cough, she reached up with shaky hands to undo the buttons of her
blouse, all while the doctor started on expectantly.  After finishing the
front buttons and untucking the blouse from the front of her suit pants,
Emily leaned forward to untuck the back.  The blouse was hanging loosely
from her upper arms and the tops of her small breasts and her plain white
bra were on open display when Emily happened to look straight forward,
directly into the unblinking lens of the video camera on the desk.  Her
whole body froze and a deep red blush began to spread from her face down to
her chest.

   After what seemed to be an eternity of staring straight at the camera,
the sound of Dr.  Sherman's calm voice quietly saying, "Go on, you can do
this" caused Emily to jump in shock.  Dropping her eyes to focus on a spot
on the floor, Emily slowly lifted the blouse out the back of her suit pants
and pulled free her shaking arms to remove the garment.  The doctor
gestured to the suit coat on the other end of the couch and Emily numbly
folded her blouse and sat it on top.  Sitting with her back rigid and legs
together on the sofa, Emily folded her hands in front of her small, paunchy
stomach, which she had always hated, and looked back to the doctor, hoping
that she satisfied whatever requirement the other woman had presented.

   Emily had no such luck and the doctor next offered, "You're doing great.
I know this is hard, but I think this experience will be of great help to
you.  You can remove your pants now."

   With an increasing sense of dread, Emily thought to herself, "Oh my god,
I'm stripping down to my underwear in a psychiatrist's office.  This can't
be real."

   Under the gentle pressure of the doctor's expectant gaze, Emily dazedly
moved her hands to her lap and undid the button at the top of her suit
pants.  Slowly, she undid her zipper, then raised her butt from the couch
to tug the waist line down to her thighs revealing her conservative tan
panties, and then slid her slacks down to her ankles.  With her flats
already removed from when she first lay down, Emily slid her nicest pair of
suit pants onto a pile on the floor and abandoned them there.  She quickly
folded her legs vertically in front of herself and hugged her knees to her
chest, making sure to keep her thighs squeezed tightly together.

   With a warm smile, Dr.  Sherman reassured her, "You're almost there. 
You can remove the rest now."

   Breathing rapidly, Emily bit her bottom lip for a moment and continued
hugging her legs, thinking to herself "I agreed to get naked?  She asked me
to get naked in her office and I said yes!  Oh Christ, I'm an idiot!"

   Emily considered her situation and realized that she would feel
ridiculous trying to explain now that she had started to strip without
knowing what she was doing.  Finding herself without the courage to reverse
her situation, she realized she had no choice but to get naked in front of
her psychiatrist.

   In front of another woman.

   Oh god...

   In front of a camera.

   This last thought introduced a brand new factor into the mix.  As Emily
considered the shame of being both watched and filmed stripping nude, a
distinct surge of arousal shot from her heart through her stomach and down
between her thighs.  An image of the naked girl in the video being paraded
on a leash down a crowded city street flashed into the front of her mind.
She closed her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to clear her own
perverted thoughts but could not shake the picture of the vulnerable girl
in the collar.  Was this what that girl felt?  Exposed?  Ashamed? ... 
Horny like she had never felt before?

   Attempting to distract herself from her scandalous thoughts, Emily
impulsively decided to power through and finish what she had started. 
Unclasping her hands from in front of her knees, she reached behind her
back to unhook her bra, quickly pulled her arms through the straps, and
then pulled the garment out from between her legs and her chest, tossing it
onto her blouse and jacket on the other end of the couch.  Taking only a
moment for a deep breath, she lowered her legs slowly to the floor and
briefly stood.  In a rush, she grasped the sides of her panties and yanked
her final garment down her legs to the ground.  Bending down, she quickly
grabbed both the panties and the suit pants from the floor and tossed them
onto the haphazard stack with the rest of her clothes before sitting back
down on the couch.

   The office was warm.

   Emily was boiling hot.

   The shiver that ran over every inch of her skin when her naked crotch
hit the leather of her seat had nothing to do with temperature.

   Emily quickly folded her arms in front of her breasts and squeezed her
legs together.  She watched as Dr.  Sherman walked over to stand just in
front of the right side of the couch to look down on her appraisingly. 
Avoiding the other woman's gaze, Emily attempted a careful study of the
carpet around her feet.  To be completely nude in front of a fully dressed,
powerful woman, while sitting mere feet from an active video camera made
her feel weightless and surreal and her eyes had trouble focusing.

   Dr.  Sherman quietly told her, "You don't have to be ashamed of your
body, Emily.  You can lower your hands."

   Under the doctor's continued scrutiny, Emily realized that any hope of
retaining her modesty had long ago fled the room.  After another deep
exhale, Emily slowly lowered her hands from her breasts and straightened
her back in her seat.

   The doctor approved of her compliance.  "Good job.  The hard part is
behind you.  Doing our sessions and your home exploration assignments in
the nude from now on will help to take you out of your comfort zone so we
can gather better data on what's going on inside your head and will help
you to accept yourself for who you are."

   The news that this wasn't a one-time exercise, but that ALL her future
therapy sessions AND her time at home watching pornography would be done
while naked hit Emily like a slap but she realized that she alone had put
herself in this scenario.  It was her own choice to strip herself down to
nothing in front of a near stranger rather than admit that she had lost
herself while she should have been paying attention.  She couldn't blame
the doctor for her own perversions.  Perhaps her complete and total
exposure was appropriate penance for trying to hide who she was inside. 
The doctor was still trying to be encouraging.

   "You still look uncomfortable with your nudity, even though you've
already agreed that it would be beneficial, so let me explain a little
further.  All their lives, girls and women are given degrading or
conflicting demands by their family, friends, the media, and society in
general.  You have to be pretty to get men to notice you, but not so pretty
that they think you're a 'slut' and don't want to have a relationship with
you.  You must wear makeup at all times but make sure you're still being
your genuine self.  Guys want you to be willing to express your sexuality
but if you do so too freely, you're branded as easy or whorish.  You must
be prepared to clean, and cook, and raise children but don't complain when
you're paid less or given fewer opportunities to advance your career
because of those things.  You should smile more and be happy and outgoing,
but if you do so every man you meet is going to assume this means you are
sexually interested in them.  Your body must be sculpted and perfect but
you must hide it away because it is also shameful.  Your breast size, your
dress size, the whiteness of your teeth, and the flawlessness of your skin
define your worth.  Do these things sound familiar to you?"

   Eyes once again downcast, Emily nodded.  The doctor continued.

   "I want you to know: all of that is bullshit.  You're naked right now
because you need to witness for yourself that you can live without the
behavioral shackles with which society and your own mind have burdened you.
You, just as you are, have the power to get through anything.  Do you trust
me to help you prove that to yourself?"

   This time, Emily raised her eyes to meet the doctor's and, with another
surge of impulsiveness, nodded again.

   The doctor clapped her hands together and declared, "Fantastic!  Stand
up, and stand proud!  Show you that you can love yourself!"

   The doctor put her hands on her hips and struck a power pose; chest
forward, shoulders back, head high.  She then looked to Emily, clearly
expecting her patient to mimic her actions.

   Riding on the energy of the doctor's impassioned speech, Emily jumped to
her feet, turned towards the doctor and did her best to mimic the doctor's
confidence.  Shoulders back, breasts on full display, and legs slightly
parted, Emily immediately realized that was hiding nothing of herself from
the other woman or the recording camera.  Pulse and breathing accelerating
out of control, she felt a fiery tingle between her legs, but she found
herself unable to disappoint the doctor who had worked so hard to motivate
her.

   "Great job!  I'm so proud of you!", the doctor proclaimed, stepping
forward to wrap Emily in a hug.

   Shocked and unsure what to do, Emily hesitantly hugged the woman back
and was surprised when the tingle between her legs became an urgent itch.

   Still smiling, Dr.  Sherman finished the hug and stepped back before
returning to her seat, leaving Emily standing alone naked and feeling
awkward, aroused, and confused.  Not knowing what else to do, Emily sat
back down on the couch.  She noticed as she did that there was a noticeable
wetness between her legs from her arousal.  Attempting discretion, she
leaned slightly to one side and ran her left hand under her butt to feel
the leather beneath her.  When her hand contacted the damp leather beneath
her vagina, Emily gave off an involuntary grimace.

   Seemingly reading her patient's mind, the doctor comforted her, "Not to
worry.  Let me get you something to sit on." Dr.  Sherman got up and
retrieved a small fleece blanket from under her desk.  Handing it to Emily
she added, "I'll make sure to keep some towels handy for future sessions
now that we know you're a dripper."

   Bright red with embarrassment, Emily awkwardly wiped the couch beneath
her, folded the blanket on her seat, and sat carefully on it.  As she sat,
she realized that her thighs and genitals were still quite wet, so she
clamped her legs together and tried not to pay attention to the squishing
noise this made.  Emily was acutely aware that the entire occurrence was
being recorded and the knowledge only made her shame deepen, which in turn
made her arousal burn hotter, which in turn made the wetness between her
legs grow.

   "FOCUS," she urged herself in her head and forced her eyes back to the
doctor.

   Noticing the return of her patient's attention, Dr.  Sherman picked up
her notepad and resumed the session.

   "Let's steer our conversation back towards how your trigger
identification research is going at home.  You told me that your first
evening might have gone a little long and that you masturbated while you
were doing your research but then the rest of the week you stayed detached
and analytical.  Unfortunately, this is not what the assignment is trying
to accomplish.  Your investigation yielded only one useful piece of
feedback from during the entire week: 'she looks like me' followed by
intense engagement and, ultimately, an orgasm.  Every other response you
gave during the week was purely analytical; descriptions of videos,
opinions on the actors and actresses, notes on the realism or lack thereof
in scenes...  The goal of the exploration you're doing is to identify what
arouses you and what doesn't.  We're not trying to figure out whether these
scenarios are realistic or not, we're trying to figure out what scenarios
or circumstances trigger your mind to obsess.  Does that make sense?"

   Sheepishly, Emily nodded and the doctor continued.

   "OK.  Since we know that the point of your exploratory sessions is to
test the level of your engagement with each piece you're viewing, I'm going
to switch up the process somewhat.  Instead of the tracking program asking
you questions about the material you're watching, we're going to solely
rely on the video the program is collecting.  When you're watching your
scenes, I want you to aim for immersion.  Instead of..."

   Confused, Emily interrupted, "I'm sorry, video?  You mean from the
camera over there?"

   The doctor glanced back at the camera on her desk and turned back to
Emily to shake her head.  "No no, in this case, I mean the video being
recorded from the webcam on your computer at home."

   "You're recording the video from my laptop?!?"

   "Of course!  This was all laid out in the paperwork you signed last
week, remember?  The tracking program is designed to keep track of the
material you're consuming, your behavior, your responses, and a myriad of
other things.  As your psychiatrist, I review highlights of all your
treatment related tasks.  I must be able to analyze both the material you
consume and your reaction to it.  It's critical for your safety and the
effectiveness of your treatment that I am able to properly evaluate and
guide your activities."

   Emily considered the implications of this discovery.  The doctor had
seen her watching porn.  The doctor had seen her fingering herself to
orgasm!  Oh god, did the recording turn off when she wasn't watching dirty
videos?  Had the doctor seen her running around naked after her session
last Monday?  What could her webcam see?

   As Emily's mind reeled from the news that she had a live camera watching
her at home, the doctor continued.

   "As I was saying, our goal from now on is going to be immersion. 
Instead of the tracking app interrupting you and popping up questions for
your text response, from now on, I want you to fully invest yourself in the
material you're consuming.  As you watch, I want you to imagine how the
scenarios you're watching would feel to participate in and I want you to
verbally express those thoughts for the camera.  This should give us a much
deeper understanding of how various situations interact with the hidden
triggers in your mind so that we can identify and work on them."

   As the doctor spoke, Emily's head was spinning.  A vision was running
through her mind of herself sitting at home on her familiar couch, alone
and naked, watching explicit erotic videos, while delivering a running
commentary on how the videos were turning her on.

   What would she say while watching the woman walking down the street with
strange men peeking up her skirt?  How did she really feel watching the
real estate agent being seduced and repeatedly screwed during the course of
just trying to do her job?  Would she have to admit that she secretly
wondered what it would have felt like if she had been the one in the video
being paraded down a public street wearing nothing but a leash and collar?

   Despite the fact that she was warm enough to sweat, Emily involuntarily
began to shiver.  A sudden silence brought Emily out of her reverie as she
realized that the doctor had finished speaking.  Turning her attention back
to the other woman, Emily noticed that Dr.  Sherman was pointedly staring
down at Emily's lower body.  Following the doctor's gaze, Emily glanced
down to her own lap to discover that her bare legs had slightly parted and
that one of her hands was unconsciously stroking the lips of her very moist
vagina.

   Terrified, Emily jerked her hand away from her crotch and folded one leg
over the other to hide her sex.  Not knowing what to do with her damp hand,
Emily panicked and wiped it off on her stomach before self-consciously
crossing her arms in front of her breasts again.

   "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!  I don't know what came over me!  I didn't
even realize I was doing that!  God, what is wrong with me?!?"

   Face once again blushing bright red, Emily tilted her head back into the
couch and wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.  After a
moment of strained silence, Dr.  Sherman spoke up.

   "Emily...  I am a specialist in sexuality and sexual dysfunction.  I
have seen every erotic act you could imagine.  I can tell you with one
hundred percent conviction that masturbation is nothing to be ashamed of. I
am your psychiatrist and your counselor; this is a safe place and there is
no judgment here.  If, during the course of your treatment, you are ever
struck by the urge to masturbate, I encourage you to listen to your body
and take care of your needs.  Self-repression and denial are two of the
major factors that contributed to the mental issues that led you to my
office in the first place."

   Despite the doctor's reassurances, Emily felt more exposed and
embarrassed sitting on that couch in that moment that she ever had before
in her life.  After a few moments of awkward silence, the doctor stood and
gestured towards the pile of clothing on the couch.

   "Tell you what, we've covered a lot of new ground today, so let's wrap
our session up for now and give you some time to process.  Why don't you go
ahead and get dressed.  I think you've made some good progress and I have
great expectations that your studies at home will yield more meaningful
results in the coming weeks."

   Thankful for the distraction from her own embarrassing actions, Emily
stood and turned around, self-consciously keeping her back to the other
woman, and moved towards her clothes.  As she picked up her panties, she
looked down at her body and looked back to the fleece blanket.  Muttering
an apology, she pulled the blanket over and used it to wipe her stomach and
between her legs but then realized it was now a damp, sticky mess.  She
spent an uncomfortable moment looking around for a place to set it down
before looking to the doctor apologetically.  With a slight wrinkle of her
nose, Dr.  Sherman gestured for her to leave the soiled blanket on the
glass table in front of the couch.

   As Emily dressed, Dr.  Sherman offered up one more suggestion for her.

   "From now on, you're doing your erotic trigger research naked, so you
can get more comfortable with your body and you'll be commenting on videos
verbally as you watch them rather than via pop up questions.  You said
earlier that you had been picking videos at random and timing your sessions
to exactly one hour.  The goal here isn't to hit a specific timing or
duration, it's to explore a wide variety of stimuli so we can identify
which scenarios or circumstances act as sexual triggers.  With that in
mind, I'm changing the assignments from one hour per night.  Instead, I
would like you to explore at least three categories or fetishes per night
that you did not work on the night before.  You can dive as deep or as
shallow into any given category as you would like and you can revisit
categories during the week, as long as it isn't multiple nights in a row.
Aim to explore new scenarios each night with enough depth to leave you with
a good idea of whether or not they prompt a greater than usual response
from your mind or body.  If this only takes you twenty minutes some
evenings, that's fine.  If it takes a little longer, that's OK as well. 
Don't stress over the timing as that will run counter to the purpose of the
exercise."

   Emily finished dressing as the doctor finished her last point.  Dr. 
Sherman held the door to the outer office open and offered, "I'll see you
next Monday.  I look forward to seeing your progress during the week."

   Squeezing past with a mumbled, "thank you," Emily still couldn't quite
bring herself to meet the doctor's eyes.  As she opened the door out of the
waiting room and stepped into the hallway beyond, she was struck by the
sudden coolness of the air and the lack of musky scent.  She only made it
halfway down the hallway towards the elevators before she had to stop and
lean against the wall, her mind reeling with the events of the last hour, a
million questions running through her head.

   "Did I really agree to do the rest of this naked?  Am I really being
recorded in my own home?  Did I really finger myself in front of another
person like some wanton harlot while just THINKING about watching porn? 
What is WRONG with me?"

   All thoughts of personal power fled her mind and several unpleasant
moments passed as she cursed herself for her foolish actions during the
session.  As she stood berating herself, the elevator doors opened with a
ding and a pair of men in suits stepped out and started walking down the
hall in her direction while talking to each other.  As they neared her,
they paused their chat, obviously concerned about the bedraggled woman
leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.  Emily realized she
hadn't bothered to straighten her scraggly hair, tuck her blouse into her
pants, or even finish doing the top few buttons on her top before beating a
hasty retreat from the psychiatrist's office.  She looked like a vagrant
having a mental breakdown.

   One of the men stopped to ask Emily if she was all right so she quickly
dropped her hands, forced a smile and replied, "Fine, thanks.  Just needed
a moment."

   Pushing herself off the wall, she walked quickly towards the open
elevator and hit the button for the ground floor, studiously avoiding
looking back towards the pair of men lest they glimpse past her fake smile
to see how much of a mess she was inside.  Her mind did not find peace any
time soon and the journey home passed with hardly a conscious thought as
the "what ifs" and recriminations took up all her mental bandwidth.

   ***

   Less than forty five minutes later, Emily was in her kitchen, barefoot
but still wearing the clothes she had worn to work, still wondering what
she had gotten herself into.

   Was the doctor still recording her webcam when the computer was in
screensaver or asleep?  Her laptop was often left open on her kitchen
table, or on the coffee table in front of her couch.  After a moment of
contemplation, Emily supposed it didn't matter whether the doctor happened
to observe her private moments...  If her webcam was going to record her
watching porn while nude, seven days a week, what more private moments were
there to worry about?

   Yikes.

   She asked herself for the hundredth time for the evening: How had her
life gotten to this point?

   Looking at the clock, she figured she should really get started on her
assignment.  She didn't want a repeat of last Monday where she was up until
midnight.

   The first stop of the evening was her bedroom, where she carefully hung
her suit jacket and dress pants, popped her shoes into the rack hanging on
the closet door, and threw her blouse and bra into the hamper.  At this
point, it was usually time for an oversized tee shirt and sweats to close
out the evening but Emily found herself in front of the full length mirror
on her closet door evaluating her nearly bare form with a critical eye. 
Her small A cup breasts seemed to be staring back at her mockingly; she'd
gotten halfway through puberty in high school and they had simply stopped
growing.  While most of her friends had blossomed into full chested women,
Emily had been left wishing for more than a small handful.

   Looking down, a frown involuntarily formed on Emily's face as she took
in her stomach.  In most areas of her body, she was fairly small or thin,
but she had always had a bit of a belly and she had always hated it.  There
always seemed to be something more important in her life than getting out
the door and exercising.  She didn't consider herself fat by any means, but
she knew she was out of shape and it seemed to taunt her.

   Small breasts, paunch, knobby ankles, flat hair, thick eyebrows...  As
she was picking out the laundry list of things about herself that she
didn't like, she wondered to herself what Dr.  Sherman would tell her in
this situation.

   "Stand proud and love yourself," she whispered.

   With this in mind she changed her posture and stood tall in front of the
mirror, shoulders back, breasts thrust forward, feet shoulder width apart,
and head held high, examining herself in a new light.  "I'm definitely as
attractive as at least half the women in the videos I'm watching," she told
herself.  Sweeping down her body, her eyes came to her conservative tan
panties and she thought to herself, "Going to need some sexier undies if I
want to look like them though," before laughing the idea off.

   Still, she couldn't help but imagine herself in the bright green thong
panties that the girl from the subway video from last week had been
wearing. If she wore those, would some horny pervert out there want to
follow her with a camera?

   Hoping to catch a glimpse?

   Staring up her skirt?

   Lusting for her?

   The familiar tingle between her legs returned.

   "Crap, I'm not even doing my assignment yet and I'm already fantasizing
about myself as some kind of degenerate exhibitionist!"

   Pushing the thoughts aside, she refocused and slid her conservative
underwear down her legs before kicking them into the hamper by the closet
with the rest of her dirty clothes.  Looking back at the mirror, now with
no clothes, she realized she wasn't quite naked yet.  Reaching up to her
neck, she ran her hands over the slim gold crucifix hanging on a thin chain
just above the cleft of her breasts.  It didn't quite feel right to keep it
on while she went about her nightly assignments under her current
conditions.

   She felt...  judged.

   Reaching behind her neck, she unclasped the chain and walked over to
open the jewelry box on her dresser.  Offering a small parting kiss to the
pendant, she slid it into the box and closed the lid.

   Returning to the mirror, she examined her now completely bare form. 
Considering her usual modesty, this was a view she didn't take in very
often.  Usually it was straight from the shower to the dresser for
underwear and then to the closet for clothes.  She almost never slept nude
and she habitually hid the sight of her undressed body from everyone,
herself included.  In the interest of self-actualization, she took in her
naked form with new eyes.  Using her fingertips, she traced the lines from
her straight hair, down her face and neck, across her small breasts, down
across her pouchy stomach, to the small brown tangle of hair around her
privates.  It was at this point that she discovered that there was still a
lingering stickiness there from the involuntary excitement of her earlier
therapy session.  A light blush of embarrassment came over her at the
memory.

   Turning away from the mirror, Emily went to the linen closet in the hall
and pulled out a thick white bath towel and wiped her crotch and thighs
carefully.  As she wiped, she looked down the hall from the closet to the
opening to her living room.  Finishing her cleanup, she encountered a
moment's hesitation but decided that she had delayed long enough.  Bringing
the towel with her, she headed to the end of the hall and stared across to
the laptop which was sitting open but asleep, plugged in on the coffee
table in front of her couch.

   Standing just out of the camera's view, Emily felt like she was about to
jump into a slightly too cold pool.  Surely the fear of the camera's view
was worse than actually being in front of it, right?  She considered
holding the towel in front of herself as she made her entrance but realized
that I wouldn't accomplish anything as she had been naked in front of her
watcher only an hour ago...  And would be again every session for the rest
of her treatment.

   *Sigh*

   Nothing for it then...  Just hop in.

   Purposefully, Emily marched over to the couch, smoothed her towel out on
it, and sat down.  Leaning forward, she picked up the laptop and sat it
down on her thighs and knees.  Angling the screen up to hopefully aim the
camera away from her most private area (no need to show everything if she
didn't have to), she hit the spacebar to wake the machine up.  After
entering her password, she pulled up the document with the list of sites
and clicked the first link that she hadn't previously visited.

   Twenty-five video previews featuring naked people in various stages of
undress and sexual activity greeted her.  She wondered to herself, "Why do
porn site front pages always have almost all thumbnails of women?" After
just a moment of allowing her eyes to linger over the teaser images, she
looked for a Categories listing at the top of the site.  Finding it, she
hovered over it but nothing happened, so she clicked on it instead.

   The page that popped up stunned her.  "Holy crap, there are HUNDREDS! 
Who knew there were so many ways for naked people to do naked people things
to each other out there?"

   Overwhelmed by the text list of more fetishes than she could ever
imagine, she found herself scrolling down the page and hovering over
entries to see previews.

   Adult (aren't these all?)

   Agent (like that real estate agent who looked like her?)

   Amateur (was that what the videos the doctor was collecting from her
counted as?  OMG)

   Amputee (WHAT THE HELL?)

   Anal (gross)

   Anime (...  Seriously?  OK, that's enough reading)

   She found a button at the top to sort the listing by number of videos.
The top four were Amateur, Teen, Big Tits, and Big Ass and all featured
previews of young women posing provocatively.

   God, were all of these categories chosen by men?  Well, if she was
supposed to be trying to imagine her own reaction to the goings on from
these videos then she definitely wasn't a teen, didn't have large breasts
or a large ass, so amateur seemed like the correct first choice.  Clicking
the link, she was presented with a brand new tiled page of video previews.
She read through the first few and felt an immediate rush of warmth to her
pelvis.

   Hot girl on train flashing

   Amateur creampie compilation

   Best friends lesbian dorm room

   Risky public masturbation

   My neighbor's wife

   Brother helps step sister get even on cheating boyfriend

   Unsure exactly how she should be doing this, she glanced at the camera
on her laptop.  The light wasn't on but the doctor had said that she could
see video from it.  Was it working already?  After a deep breath, Emily
decided to just start talking.

   "OK, this is my first time looking at categories and I went with one of
the most popular ones: Amateur.  I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be
choosing videos here so I'm just going to open stuff and see what happens."

   She CTRL+clicked the first video from the list to open it in new browser
tabs and then CTRL-tabbed over to see it start playing immediately.  Drawn
in by the sight of a thin girl with jet black hair in a dark leather jacket
and long shirt sitting on a seat on a sparsely crowded train, Emily forgot
her new instructions for almost a full minute into the video.  As the girl
lifted her right leg and crossed it over her other, the camera person (who
was obviously in on the action from the furtive glances the girl was
giving) got a shot that clearly revealed that the girl wasn't wearing any
pants under her long shirt and only a thin white pair of bikini style
panties was visible between her legs.  It wasn't until Emily thought to
herself that she would die of shame if she ever stepped out into public
dressed like that that she remembered that she was supposed to be talking
through everything that was happening.

   "Oh, uh, sorry.  The guy with the camera is obviously in on it with the
flashing girl.  I wonder if this is real or staged?  Wait, I'm supposed to
be talking about how this feels, not doing an analysis.  GAH, dammit!  I'm
starting over."

   Emily paused the video then drug the dot on the progress bar back to the
beginning.  She paused for a moment to psyche herself up for this new
experience and then clicked play again.

   "OK, cute girl, a bit goth, I guess that's OK.  This seems like a really
wild couple's activity; I'm not sure I could do something so brave.  She's
got her back to most of the train car but I bet anyone more than a few
seats away can see her bare legs under the seat.  It turns me on knowing
that people could be gawking at her nice legs already.  God, and anyone out
the window or walking up the aisle could see here doing this.  I bet her
boyfriend is on the camera and he teased her that she was too shy to go out
in just a long pink shirt, leather jacket, and heels.  I wouldn't call any
girl wearing black lipstick chicken, and I bet he's going to learn a thing
or two about her today.  Oooh, yeah, teasing the camera with a panty shot.
HA, that'll show you who's shy, nerd."

   "Oh, Jesus, OK.  She's pulling her panties down now, here on the train.
Anyone looking down at her legs could see her taking them off...  God, I'm
so wet.  Imagine, wrapping your panties around your wrist like a bracelet
for anyone to see and sliding down in your seat to flash a camera.  Uhhhn,
I'm shivering just imagining her bare ass on the cold plastic seat.  OH! 
One of the guys behind her is glancing her way but she can't see him
because she's too focused on spreading her knees apart and smiling for the
camera.  Christ, imagine being watching while you flash someone and not
even knowing it."

   Emily found herself with the uncontrollable urge to mimic the girl from
the video.  Without breaking her focus on screen, and without pausing to
consider her actions, she moved the laptop from her knees to the coffee
table and sunk down into her seat a bit so she could spread her legs just
like the goth girl.

   *Ohhhhh god*

   "She's reaching down and spreading herself open for the camera.  Her
pink little kitty is on display and she is smiling like the Cheshire cat,
proving to her boyfriend that she is sluttier than he can possibly imagine.
Isn't he lucky to have an easy girl like her.  Fuck, I bet the feeling of
power is amazing, proving you can't be contained.  Mmmm, there her hands
go. I don't think I could keep from fingering myself either.  She deserves
to be seen by strangers fucking herself.  She obviously wants it.  She
could get in so much trouble but if she did, she would know she deserves
whatever punishment she received.  If someone sees her and she gets raped
or arrested, it's her fault, her choice.  She just needs to be seen and to
hell with the consequences!  Oh god, I'm going to cum!"

   The last part wasn't just role play; Emily had gotten so into the action
that she had unconsciously started fingering herself along with the girl in
the video.  Hips vibrating in time with the girl on the screen, when the
goth exhibitionist got herself off for the camera, Emily came along for the
ride.  Eyes locked on the goth girl's, Emily's fingers plunged in and out
of her own hole at the same pace as the other woman.  With the combination
of the rapid escalation, imagining herself in the exhibitionist's place,
and how amped up Emily was from her earlier therapy session, she once again
found her rubbing hand doused by a small stream of warm fluid as her toes
curled, her legs stiffened, and her pelvic muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

   On the screen, the video ended with the goth girl bringing her legs back
together and smiling a few seconds after she came, waving goodbye and
blowing a kiss to the camera.  The screen went black and was then replaced
by a panel of previews for other, similar videos.  Emily took longer to
come down and process what had just happened.

   Breathing heavily and taking stock, Emily took in her position on the
couch; shoulders and head pressed to the backrest, back to the seat, hips
hanging off the front, legs spread two feet apart on tiptoes...  Every inch
of her naked body above the knees was on display for the laptop camera she
had foolishly moved to the table in front of her.  She had just given the
doctor an up close and personal view of herself fingering her vagina... 
No, her pussy, that's what the videos called it, right?  You don't finger a
vagina while watching porn and spouting perverted stream-of-thought
commentary in front of a recording camera.  Emily had fingered her pussy.

   Jesus...  What was wrong with her?

   Staring dazedly at the screen of the laptop, she realized the video she
had been watching, the first video she had chosen for the evening, was only
eight minutes long.

   ...

   Eight minutes?  Good lord save her.  It had taken her eight minutes to
reduce herself from a respectable Catholic woman to a quivering mass of
instinct and orgasms.  Half of Emily wanted to crawl in a hole and die. 
The other half wanted to watch another video and...  what?  Give the camera
another show?

   Rationality prevailed and Emily decided she needed to escape the
camera's gaze for a few minutes so she righted herself and stood up off the
couch.  The squirting orgasm necessitated pulling up the towel to wipe down
her legs and pelvis again.  Emily realized that this had been her second
squirting orgasm ever and her second Monday night over-indulgence. 
Definitely not a coincidence; she felt like a hopeless degenerate.

   To avoid having to face her actions for a moment longer, she made the
rounds to the linen closet, hamper, and bathroom to swap the now damp towel
for a new one and to wash her sticky hands.  While still at the bathroom
sink, she filled the cup she used to rinse after brushing her teeth and
gulped down a mouthful of water.  As she brought her head up to drink, she
made the mistake of meeting her own gaze in the mirror above the sink and
barely recognized herself.

   Her skin was flushed red with some combination of excitement and shame.
Her normally prim and proper hair was wild and tangled with sweat after
having been unceremoniously dragged against the couch backrest while she
brought herself off.  She was naked as the day she was born yet was walking
around as if totally unconcerned at her revealed state.

   The woman locking gazes with Emily through the mirror looked like a
wanton slut and Emily could not stop staring at her.  That woman was HOT.

   "That can't be me," she whispered to herself.

   How was she going to go look her co-workers in the eye tomorrow?  How
was she going to face Dr.  Sherman?  How was that woman from the mirror
going to show up in church next Sunday?

   She felt like she was losing control.

   Purposefully turning away from the hussy in the mirror, Emily strode out
into the hall and began pacing back and forth while talking to herself. 
"OK, deep breath time.  Let's think this through rationally and
analytically."

   "The doctor said things in my head would get worse before they get
better.  I have a logical aim here, to identify the sexual triggers in my
brain so we can combat them specifically and directly.  I may feel ashamed
at my actions now, but it's better to rip the bandage off and take the pain
up front instead of suffering in the dark for months or years to come.  The
responsible thing here is to go back to my laptop and carry on with my
assignment, my comfort be damned, right?"

   Feeling a rush of warmth between her legs at the thought of returning to
her computer to continue debasing herself, the decision was an easy one to
make.  Running the fingers of her right hand through the sticky thatch of
hair between her legs, she tried to sort through the tangle of emotions
running through her body and mind.

   "Comfort might not even be the right word for it.  Maybe I need to
accept that this is who I am.  Just for the short term.  Just so I can get
through this."

   An impulse and the memory of a video from the previous week inspired
Emily to bring her hand from her crotch to her face where she inspected her
wet fingers.  Driven by the novelty of her own perverted actions, Emily was
unable to stop herself from leaning forward a bit and deeply inhaling,
sampling her own heady aroma.  A light shiver ran down her body.

   The thought ran through her mind, "If I'm going to accept myself for who
I am while I pave the road back to who I want to be, I might as well
embrace my temporary role."

   After staring at her glistening, wet fingers in fascination for a few
seconds, another thought struck her, "If I want to succeed at my recovery,
I should probably push myself here just like I push myself in my other
pursuits."

   On impulse, Emily stuck her index finger into her mouth, forcing herself
to taste her own juices, moaning in shame at the perversity of her own
action.  Hesitantly at first, then with greater enthusiasm, Emily suckled
on the finger, soon replacing it with her middle and then ring fingers. 
Without thinking, she brought her left hand up and started to massage her
right breast, tweaking the nipple and kneading the small globe of flesh. 
For several moments, standing nude in the hallway of her condo, Emily was
lost to the pleasures of her own body.

   After an unknown period of time, Emily's arousal glutted mind cleared
just enough for a few seconds that she could assess her situation once
again.  She was sucking her own ejaculate off of her fingers and fondling
herself in her hallway for no particular reason.

   Perhaps she was taking her newfound acceptance a little too far.

   Taking a few deep breaths to center herself and purposefully forcing her
arms to her sides, she decided that it was probably best to draw a clear
line between her normal life and her therapy.  Who she was going to be
during her treatment and her homework assignments was the version of
herself she was trying to eliminate.  She might as well give that woman the
freedom to indulge in her degeneracy enough so that the doctor could
identify her and help to delete her.  Outside of her treatment, she would
be plain old Emily; unchanged and boring, just like she liked it.

   Feeling that she had successfully made an important decision, Emily
nodded slightly to herself and thought, "OK then.  I have an assignment to
finish." Looking down at her naked self, she laughed a bit and thought,
"Slutty Emily, you are in charge!"

   Filled with a renewed sense of purpose and direction, Emily strode back
to the living room and sat down on the new towel she had laid out on the
couch.  Leaning forward to pick up the laptop from the coffee table, she
paused as she considered the view the laptop had of her naked body.  The
thought that her webcam had a near full body picture of her naked and
aroused state only stoked the fires in her belly.  She decided the computer
could stay where it was for now and leaned a little further to use her
right hand to pull up a new video from the suggestions from the previous
one; Naked Pizza Delivery Flashing Dare.  Before the video had even started
playing she realized that her other left hand had already sought it's way
to her lap to caress her inner thighs.

   Sinking a little further down into her seat, she watched a nude college
aged girl walk into frame on the screen and brought her right hand to join
her left, thinking to herself, "It's going to be another long night."