He lay back on the psychologist’s couch, thinking back over moments of sadness and guilt.

Memories of so many months with Pam. Just a few nights ago, he was pleading, “Please, please stop it… ”

“Mr. Hardy?” The doctor’s voice was gentle but firm. In a twisted way, it wasn’t that much different from Pam’s voice. The therapist was a woman. He wasn’t too sure about going to her, but figured it would take a woman to analyze a woman. She even had the same last name as Pam, which he somehow thought might give her an even stronger psychic connection to what made that woman tick… or be so sick.

Pam was exciting, but she was sending him right up the wall, and now he was crippled with nerves, unsure if he loved or hated her, and if the sex was worth it. True, it gave him great satisfaction, but it also gave him even greater guilt. She was turning him on in ways he hadn’t dreamed of, and it was becoming a nightmare.

He stared up at the ceiling. He began telling the doctor about the way Pam turned the tables right from the start. He had been on his back, getting a blowjob, when she playfully said, “What about me? Let’s change places.” So right there, in her dorm room, they did. She spread her legs, lay back and whispered, “Make me wet… ” The old stains on the quilt got dark with slippery new ones.

It turned her on so much that he was turned on, so glad to look up from between her legs to watch her moan and sigh. The more submissive he was, the more aggressive and aroused she became, groaning, “Yes, you little toady, lick it… Make me come… ”

She was twitching her hips, grinding her sopping twat against his face. Sweet gooey fluids filled his mouth. Her smell was intoxicating, and pleasuring her made him feel good despite the insults and curses hurled his way. She snuffed her wet, hairy crotch over his face, and he gasped for breath even as he slobbered and swirled his moist tongue around and around and around. He thrust his tongue inside. He lapped and lapped at her clit, and she came and came, her juices slick and hot. She reached down to hold the back of his head and strop her wet pussy folds over his mouth and nose, wiping her cunt all over his face.

“I love the way you caressed my clit,” she said, easing off the bed. “Now watch me use the toilet.” Like a dumb dog, he followed her into the bathroom, crouched in front of her and listened to the tinkling sound. He offered his tongue yet again, and as he licked her, she ordered him to jerk off. He did it. Crouched down on the bathroom floor. Trembling. Working his hand in a furious rhythm. She smiled, and he noticed that her laughing eyes were bright. She sat on the toilet like it was a throne, and he found himself turned on by the hissing words with which she expressed the depths of her disdain for his slavish slobbering.

He spattered his load on the bathroom floor. She stepped over him and ordered him to clean up the mess.

“I don’t know exactly how it got so turned around,” Hardy told the therapist. “One minute I’m on my back like a king, getting oral sex from her. I’m in control. Then it all changed, and I was too aroused to stop.”

“We have to stop now,” said the therapist, “but we’ll pick up on this next time. You’ll tell me everything you find humiliating… and arousing.”

Hardy visited the therapist twice a week, just as he had been visiting Pam’s dorm room twice a week. One was substituting for the other. He kept putting Pam off with excuses, telling her he had a heavy work load. Meanwhile, he unloaded every detail for this new woman in his life. He didn’t want to tell the therapist all the embarrassing details, but he couldn’t help it. He figured that confessing to a female therapist made a lot more sense. Only another woman could explain Pam’s moods to him.

He talked about the time Pam modeled her new bra, panties and boots. The bra and panties had a flowered pattern, very girlish. The panties drove him right up the wall. But the boots? She kept them on in bed. She played a game of being coy, pushing his hands away when he tried to take her panties down. Jerking her elbow and rolling her shoulder to keep him from getting at the clasp of her bra.

Then she suddenly rolled over, spread her legs, and moaned,”You got me where you want me: flat on my back. Now fuck me!” Another sudden mood swing. She was already wet and waiting. He stuck it all the way in on the first thrust. He gave it to her good and hot.

Her face was moist and pink, and her eyes were demurely closed. She had her legs in the air, and she spread them wider and wider. She was totally his, to do with as he pleased, and he felt like he could gush a gallon into her. He bucked back and forth, his cock burstingly thick and ready to blow, her pussy tight and clenching.

That’s when he felt the cold leather edge of her boots scuffing against his back. He felt the abrasions as she scraped his skin. He tried to keep his rhythm, and he held her legs to prevent her from damaging and distracting him. He leaned down, kissing her neck, his mouth tracing a path to her ear, and he whispered, “You’re the girl of my dreams.”

And she replied, “So what?”

Her face was dead white, the hair jet black. Hardy thought to himself, “She’s crazy. I can’t deal with her perverse moods.” He soon became angry. “Fuck her, just fuck her!”

He stayed hard, fucking her deep, growling with every thrust like a fighter grunted with every punch. He did it to drown out whatever hateful, spiteful things she was saying. He emptied his balls, the hot gushing floods of come spitting deep inside her. All that cream had to satisfy her hungry pussy!

He looked down, and her face was contorted with pain. Had he gone too far? “Lick it,” she moaned. “You came, make me come, too.” He wanted to just go to sleep, but he knew he had to make amends, and it was only right, even if he was repulsed by the sight of his snotty discharge trickling from her puffy pussy lips.

So he went down on her, tasting his own salty mess, and he kept at it until she began to writhe with pleasure, even as she grinded her leather boots into his flesh and kicked him hard with her heels, like she’d kick a horse to make it move faster.

“Oh yeah, I like it! I love it!”

He loved pleasing her, even if, at this very moment, he didn’t like her much.

Their sex play finally ended with her holding him by the hair at the back of his head, rubbing his face all over her wet pussy. When she was done with him, he felt like he’d taken a money shot from her. No pride. “I had some black-and-blue marks and some scratches that took a week to heal. If I told her to restrain herself, she just told me I was being selfish. Then she’d say I really liked it. I couldn’t win an argument.”

“And you would rather be her slave than fight with her.”

“When we fight, it’s more than I can bear. It’s so strange, that what’s so hot in the dark of night becomes a regret in the cold light of day. I don’t know why she has to control me and make me miserable. Maybe she was brought up wrong.”

“You don’t know much about her parents, I gather.”

“No. Pam said her parents divorced long ago. Her father moved overseas. Maybe she resents him and she gets revenge through me. I don’t think she’s close to her mother, either. I think she lives around here. I don’t know. All I know is I’m so conflicted about always ending up doing exactly what she wants and always making sure that she wins, and that I’m supposed to be the loser and like it. The more dominant she is, the more she likes it, that’s for sure. Where does she get it from?”“Give me another example.”

“She likes to wear provocative lingerie sometimes, and show herself off. And not let me touch. Not until she’s finished dancing and teasing. I tell her ‘You’re really messing with my brain.’ But she already knows that. It’s a game. What should I do?”

“Well, what do you think that you should do?”

“I just don’t know,” Hardy said with some irritation. “You’re sounding like Pam. Don’t mess with my brain. You know the female psyche and what a woman wants. Why don’t you just tell me what to do?”“Do you really want to be told what to do?”

Hardy sighed, forlorn, confused.

“I never know what she’s going to do,” he admitted.

“Wouldn’t it be boring if you in fact did know?” There was a slight pause. “Would you say you and Pam make a lovely pair?”

“No,” Hardy snorted. “I don’t think she loves me as much as she loves getting what she wants. It’s getting even, and more. If I’m on top for five minutes, she’s going to turn it around and be on top for 10. Even if I let her say when, even if she’s the horny one who starts it, it’s not enough for her. She’ll find a way to get me started and really finish me off.”

There was the time she impulsively unzipped his pants and began jerking him off in the movie theater. From the flickering light on the movie screen illuminating her face, he could see her transform into some kind of gamey vixen, clever with her hand, jerking him perfectly. She seemed to be getting off on the feel of holding his stick and taking it for a drive. She rubbed her hand up and down over his hot meat like it was hers. She was getting it slick and wet. She jerked him faster, and she made him spurt a load that was almost audible; he seemed to hear a sound, like a knuckle cracking, as his first load shot out with tremendous speed and trajectory, then another, and another. She didn’t stop. She choked his cock and squeezed it till the final blobs of come bubbled outward and dribbled down his shaft, dappling puddles of slime in his lap.

Her smile became a smirk. When they left, she was amused at how he grabbed a popcorn box from the floor of the theater and held it in front of him to hide the stains on his pants. She wanted sex when they got back home, but he was too exhausted to do anything. “See what you’re missing,” she mocked, masturbating in front of him. She rubbed herself through her nylon panties, not allowing him to see her pussy, only how she was pleasuring herself while he was helpless to do anything but watch. She had a shuddering, shattering orgasm without him touching her. When he went to kiss her after her hand slipped away from her moist crotch, she turned away.

At his next session with the therapist, he told her about another time Pam showed off with teasing and masturbation. She began fucking herself with a long, tapered candle. She got off on being on her back, urging him to come closer and see how the candle was sliding in and out of her pussy. He watched in fascination and ever-increasing arousal. His face got closer and closer; he could smell her lust. He began to lick her clit while she slowly fucked herself. Her legs twisted and squirmed and she began to hiss curses of randy delight.

He adjusted himself to get into the 69 position, and for just a moment, it seemed like they were equals, each licking the other to a mutual, almost simultaneous climax. She sucked his cock with intense urgency, right in time with the rhythm of fucking herself with the candle and his lewd and enthusiastic licking of her clit. He felt her deep-throating him as she climaxed, choking herself with cock while she fucked herself. Slowly, the candle in her cunt stopped moving and slipped away. Her hand pushed his face away from her engorged clit and he knew then that she couldn’t take anymore.

She was satisfied, he thought.

His cock had gotten soft when she eased it out of her mouth, gasping after her overpowering climax. He jerked it a bit, guided it between her lips and nudged it back into her mouth. She began to dutifully suck on the tip, and he was so horny he almost didn’t notice the strange, pleasant feeling of what seemed like her fingertip near his anus. Soon he realized, with shame and excitement, that she was fucking his ass with the gooey candle she had used on herself. She slid it up into him, deep as she could, and he shot his load as if she’d pulled the trigger on a gun.

When he opened his eyes, breathing heavily, he saw her eyes glittering, her lips mocking him with a cruel smile that only increased his humiliation. “So, you liked that,” she whispered. She kissed him, making him taste the come on her lips and tongue. The candle slipped quickly out from his ass and plopped onto the sheets.

She purred in his ear, “Nobody can hold a candle to you.” He pushed the candle off the bed and onto the floor. “Aww,” she said, “I guess we’ll just have to throw it out. It probably won’t light now. Be careful when you pick up a candle around here. You never know where it’s been.”

After hearing this latest example of Pam’s moods, the doctor stood up, signaling the end of their session. “Has talking about that incident helped you shine a light on your emotions?”

“Is that some kind of joke?”

“No, Mr. Hardy, not at all,” the therapist insisted.

“What’s behind Pam’s moods, doctor? Have you heard enough to tell me yet? Does this all go back to some childhood trauma?”

“Doesn’t everything?” the doctor replied. She stood up and walked over to the couch. She sat next to Hardy and he moved over to accommodate her. He found it odd to have her so close. Odd, and somehow arousing. She said to him, “Pam’s moods? Well, the girl was moody even when she was a child. She always had to have her own way, but she seldom was satisfied when she got it.”

Hardy’s face went pale, and anxiety and fear sent a chill through him. His heart began throbbing. He felt an urge to get to his feet, but he stayed flat on his back. He looked up at the doctor, who leaned toward him. “Yes,” she said, “my daughter always was a problem, and she won’t go into therapy.”

Hardy felt his lips going numb, even as she leaned down and kissed him.

“You’ve got a new problem now,” she said.

He shut his eyes and returned her kiss, giving in with passion and urgency. He wouldn’t let himself think about anything as he held her. Not even Pam’s mood when she found out.