I could barely keep my knee from bouncing as I waited for Mary’s third session. The progression from the first two had been intoxicating, not just for the obvious visual benefits, but for the sheer efficiency of the Technique. It was one thing to theorize about total behavioral override; it was another to watch a well-adjusted college athlete strip and climax on command in a commercial park office.

When the door opened, Mary didn’t bounce in this time. She walked with a kind of restless energy, a flush already high on her cheeks.

“Hey Doctor W,” she said, dropping onto the couch. She looked… energized. Frustrated.

“Hello Mary,” I said, adopting my best neutral-therapist tone. “Good to see you. How are things? How’s Trevor?”

She rolled her eyes, a gesture so teenage it almost made me chuckle. “Trevor is history. I dumped him on Tuesday.”

“Oh?” I leaned forward. “I thought you were trying to make it work.”

“He was a goober,” she said flatly. “Honestly, after… after our last session, I just looked at him and thought, ‘what am I doing?’ He’s clingy and he’s bad in bed and I just don’t have time for it.”

“That sounds like a healthy decision,” I noted. “And how are you feeling otherwise? We discussed exploring your own sensations last week.”

Mary bit her lip, shifting her hips on the leather. “Yeah. About that. I… I can’t stop.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can’t stop?”

“Touching myself,” she confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper that wasn’t ashamed so much as awestruck. “Ever since I shaved… god, it’s like my pussy is electric or something. Even the fabric of my jeans rubbing against it makes me wet. I have to jill off in the shower every morning just to be able to focus in class. And at night… I bought a vibrator.”

“A vibrator?”

“Yeah. A big one. Like a wand thing that plugs in? The battery ones weren’t doing it.”

A Hitachi Magic Wand. Excellent. The girl was diving headfirst into the new reality I’d crafted for her.

“That’s perfectly normal, Mary,” I reassured her. “I told you that you needed to reconnect with your body. It seems you’ve taken that to heart.”

“Is it normal to do it three times a day?” she asked, looking at me with wide eyes.

Even with the machine off, I knew that the embedded truths I had laid on her in the first session would make my following words hit with the full weight of truth.

“As long as it doesn’t disrupt your classwork or your friendships, explore this pleasure as much as you want,” I said. I had to be careful here; if her grades tanked or she became a hermit, her mother Angela might get suspicious. “However, it sounds like you might be stuck in a bit of a rut if you’re just using the wand constantly. You should work on more creative ways to find sexual pleasure.”

I glanced at the interface. It was time.

“Mary, I’m going to activate the relaxation protocols. We’re going to try something a little different today to help you broaden these horizons.”

“Okay,” she breathed, settling instantly into the divot. She was conditioned now; she practically melted the moment I reached for the keyboard.

Lights. Sound. Scent. Click. She was under.

“Mary,” I said, my voice taking on that resonant, command-tone. “You are safe. You are open. You are ready to learn.”

“I am ready,” she murmured.

“You mentioned you enjoy the vibration, but true female pleasure is often enhanced when you are filled up. Empty stimulation can only go so so far.”

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. Sitting there, among the hanging files, was a collection of silicone I’d acquired for… research purposes. I selected a mid-sized piece: about eight inches, larger but not monstrous, made of a firm, flesh-toned silicone.

“Stand up, Mary,” I commanded.

She stood. She was wearing a loose sundress today, easy access.

“Take it off,” I said. “All of it. I want for you to be truly comfortable and uninhibited in this session, you should be fully nude.”

She pulled the dress over her head without a pause. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were perfect for her frame: perky, athletic B-cups with pale pink nipples that hardened the moment the cool air of the office hit them. She stepped out of her panties and kicked them aside.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Now, come here.”

She walked to the desk. I handed her the dildo. She took it, weighing it in her hand like a relay baton.

“Go back to the couch. Lie down. I want you to use this. I want you to fill yourself up while you rub your clit. Show me how much you enjoy being full.”

She flopped back onto the black leather and threw her legs open, exposing the wet, shaved vulnerability of her sex. Her pussy was weeping, a mess of clear, slick fluids coating her lips and dripping steadily down toward her ass. She took the heavy silicone cock in her hand, its surface cool and unyielding—a dead, synthetic thing compared to the feverish heat radiating from her body. She pressed the broad, flared head against her vaginal opening, gasping as the cold material shocked her hot, sensitive flesh.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to push. I watched, mesmerized, as her tight little hole fought to accommodate the intrusion. The ring of muscle strained, stretching impossibly wide, the pink flesh turning taut and pale around the girth of the toy. It was a visceral display of capacity, her body being forced open by the inanimate object. With a grunt of effort and a firm shove, she forced the thickest part of the head past her resisting pelvic floor. It popped inside with a wet, audible squelch, her inner walls gripping the fake skin with a desperate, suction-like tightness. She didn’t stop there. She grabbed the base and drove the entire eight inches deep into her belly in one fluid, ruthless motion. The cold silicone buried itself in her furnace, her cunt juices coating the shaft instantly as she filled herself completely. She gasped, her neck muscles straining, her eyes rolling back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness stretching her from the inside out.

“Yes,” I urged. “Take it all.”

She gripped the flared base and shoved the thick silicone shaft into her wet channel. She pulled it back. The head dragged against her cunt walls. She slammed it home again. Her other hand clamped over her mound. Her middle finger found the hard nub of her clitoris. She rubbed circles. Fast. Hard. Her hips snapped up to meet each thrust. Schlock. Schlock. The dildo churned the clear slime leaking from her cervix. White froth gathered at her lips. The sound was wet. Chewy. It echoed off the fake mahogany shelves.

“God, it feels so full,” she moaned. “It feels so good.”

“That’s right,” I said, my voice low. “It’s exactly what you need.”

My own hand drifted under the desk. I was hard—painfully so. I unzipped my trousers and freed myself, wrapping my hand around my erection. I watched her, the rhythm of her hand matching the rhythm of mine. I stroked myself, feeling the tension build, but I didn’t let myself go over the edge. Not yet. The power of holding back, of controlling both her pleasure and mine, was too heady.

Mary was getting close. Her breathing was ragged, her hips bucking off the couch to meet the thrusts of the dildo.

“Doctor W… Doctor W, I’m gonna…!”

“Do it,” I commanded. “This will be the strongest orgasm you have ever felt. Let it take you.”

She screamed—a raw, guttural sound that I hoped the soundproofing could handle—and arched her back so violently her heels came off the couch. Her body convulsed around the toy, her hand moving in a blur against her button. She rode the wave for what felt like an eternity before collapsing back, the dildo still buried deep inside her.

I took a moment to compose myself, adjusting my trousers and zipping up. I hadn’t come, but the rush of dopamine was nearly as good.

“Excellent work, Mary,” I said. “You can remove the device and bring it here.”

She pulled the dildo out with a wet schlock sound and brought it to me, her legs wobbly. I took it (slick with her juices) and dropped it into a sanitizing bag in the drawer.

“Get dressed.”

As she pulled her dress back on, looking thoroughly debauched and dazed, I prepared the final directives.

“Mary, sit down for a moment before you go. I have homework for you.”

She laid back in to the niche of the device, looking at me with adoring, glazed eyes.

“Two things,” I said, keying the mic to ensure the subliminals hit hard. “First. You need to explore anal pleasure. The anus is incredibly sensitive, and careful play down there is much more pleasurable for women than you might think. You’ve been neglecting it.”

“My anus,” she repeated. “Sensitive. Pleasurable.”

“Exactly. Second. You need to safely explore pleasure with partners you might not normally find attractive. You have been too picky. You will be surprised at how much pleasure and attraction spurs on when things get going. Don’t limit yourself to ‘types’.”

“Not picky,” she nodded. “Surprised by pleasure.”

“Good. And remember, Mary,” I said, leaning in. “Everything that happens in this session is private. It is secret. It never leaves this room.”

“Private. Secret,” she echoed.

I hit the kill switch on the console. The lights stopped flashing, the hum died down.

“Well, Mary,” I said brightly. “I think that was a very productive session. We’re really breaking down some barriers.”

She blinked, shaking her head slightly. She looked flushed, a little sweaty, but incredibly happy. “Yeah… wow. I feel… exhausted, but in a good way.”

“That’s the therapy working,” I smiled. “Go home, get some rest. And remember your homework.”

“I will,” she promised, standing up. “Thanks, Doctor W!”

She left, and I sat back in my chair, listening to the silence. I looked at the drawer where the dildo lay. Next week… next week we would see just how well she took to anal. And who she might bring into her bed in the meantime.