Birth of an Analyst

Part 9

by greyscribbler

Tags: #cw:noncon #anal #dom:male #f/m #pov:bottom #pov:top #sub:female

Birth of an Analyst

Part 9

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2023

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Ethan grinned down at the girl sprawled on the desk in front of him, Madison half-conscious if that, his slowly deflating cock still buried in her arse.

“Was it good for you?” he asked cheekily, not really needing the answer. The number of times she’d cum was all the proof he’d needed.

“God, yes,” the girl moaned.

Ethan had enjoyed himself as well. Fuck, that was an understatement. Taking her pussy from behind, then ramming into her gorgeous arse, filling it, claiming it. that had been some kind of heaven. Even with all the other girls his abilities had let him sample, Madison was special.  Yes, he’d enjoyed himself.

That was all well and good. And the way she’d been so obviously embarrassed as she’d asked had been a delight. He’d almost laughed as she’d dragged him into the meeting room and then how flushed she was as she ran out of the room for the lube, just her top held against her, had been the icing on the cake. If all he’d been after was one time taking her arse, he could happily call it all off now.

That wasn’t what Ethan wanted. He wanted more. He was going to own her.

He pulled out of her arse, a delightful little moan answering his withdrawal.

“Drop for me, Madison.”

She dropped so easily now.

“Drifting down. Letting your mind go so deep, down and down, thoughts all gone. Just my voice. You trust my voice. Trust me.”

“Trust, …, Ethan.”

He could barely make out the words. It was hardly fair, in a way. The girl was so vulnerable, so open. Fucked within an inch of her life, then dropped into trance. She had no defences.

Even so, he wasn’t taking any risks.

“How good was having a cock in your arse?” he asked, leaning low, almost whispering in her ear, fingertips gently trailing up her spine.

“So good,” Madison whispered, her naked body quivering under his touch. “Oh God, so good.”

“It was,” Ethan told her. “You’ve never felt anything better. You want it again. Tell me you want me to fuck your arse again.”

“I w-want you to f-fuck my arse again.”

Ethan smiled at her stumbles. It wasn’t hesitation. He could feel the need radiating through her, the girl still caught in its grip.

“Sinking down, feeling that need,” he crooned. “Letting everything go but that need and my voice. You trust my voice. It tells you the truth.”

“Tells me the truth,” Madison echoed.

Ethan wondered if his face would split, he was grinning so much. “Yes it does. And here’s some more truths for you. Thoughts to fill up your head.” Her breathing was ragged. Madison didn’t resist as Ethan turned her head to the side so he could see her eyes. Those beautiful eyes had never been so empty. The mind behind them was just as empty. Ready to be filled by the thoughts he gave her.

“I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan. Repeat that to me. Believe it.”

Madison did just that, Ethan almost surprised by the emotion in her voice. “I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

“Again,” he ordered.

“I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

“Again.” Ethan had her repeat it more than a few times. Even so, he wondered whether the count matched the number of orgasms that had ravaged the girl.

One more won’t hurt. He was still so hard, it was so easy to fill her again, his hands on her hips, holding her down.

“You cum from having your arse fucked. You love having your arse fucked.”

Madison’s hips bucked against his grip, the girl felt so good around his cock, her arse gripping it tight.

Her back arched as another orgasm claimed her.

“Repeat what I just told you, acknowledging the truth of it. believing it.”

“I c-cum,” Madison’s voice caught as Ethan ploughed back into her. “I cum from having my arse fucked. I love having my arse fucked.”

“Keep repeating that.”

Madison did. Ethan was surprised at his own staying power. But then, having a beautiful girl tell you how she loved having her arse fucked while you did just that was a very special form of encouragement.

Sometime later, Ethan paused, his cock still buried deep in the girl’s rectum. “You can’t ask a stranger to fuck your arse. You can’t ask a friend to fuck your arse. Ethan can fuck your arse.”

“Ethan can fuck my arse,” Madison murmured, the little twitches of her hips sending jolts of pleasure through him.

Little tease.

“You don’t need anyone but me to fuck your arse, right?”

“S’right,” the girl muttered, her eyes half-closed. “Ethan can fuck my arse.”

“Good girl. But we’re not in a relationship are we? You need a colleague to fuck your arse. You need me to fuck your arse.

“M’kay. Not a relationship.”

Ethan smiled. “While Ethan is fucking my arse I can’t be in a relationship with anyone else. That would be cheating.” Her arse, her body, was his and his alone.

“God, no,” Madison whispered. “No relationship. No. Want Ethan to fuck my arse. I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

Ethan hadn’t expected her to add that, even with the number of times he had her repeat it.

He wasn’t complaining. He still had more to do to her and she was so vulnerable. But he didn’t want to overload her. She needed time for today to sink in.

“You’ll remember what I told you. You’ll think they’re your own thoughts. They’ll run around and around in your head. You’ll believe them. They’re the truth. Right, Madison?”

“Right,” the girl repeated, something wonderfully distant about her voice. “The truth.”

Madison couldn’t bring herself to look at Ethan as they got dressed. She felt, well, fucked, in a good way. Her arse had been so wonderfully full. But it was still embarrassing. He’d, they’d, well. He had to know how much she’d enjoyed herself. And that was beyond embarrassing. She had to try twice before she could even speak. “Look, um,” she managed eventually, “just so it’s clear. This isn’t a relationship it’s, uh…”

“Friends with benefits?” Ethan suggested helpfully.

I’m not sure we’re friends. Madison thought. Even with the way Ethan had fucked her arse. Gloriously. Magnificently. Impaling her. She’d almost felt, well, fulfilled. She didn’t want to think about that. Or how much she wanted him to do it again.

God, we only just did it. What am I, addict-

The thought died. Had never been.

“Yeah, something like that. Well, maybe. I’m not saying we’re doing this again.”

Even if she wanted it. God, she wanted it so much.  It didn’t matter. She couldn’t do it again. They weren’t in a relationship and she wasn’t like that and he might get the wrong idea. About her. About them. God, what sort of girl lets her arse get fucked and then says they’re not in a relationship? She didn’t want to be that sort of girl.

So, no matter how good it had been it would have to be a one-off.

I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.

It didn’t matter how certain the voice sounded, it wasn’t going to happen.

“Oh God, fuck me,” Madison cried. “Fuck my arse!”

Her resolve hadn’t lasted at all, no matter what she’d told herself. The very next day Ethan had looked at her, then nodded at the door to the meeting room. Her breath had caught, things tightening low inside her, need welling up. She knew what he was offering. Just knew it.

I cum from having my arse fucked. I love having my arse fucked.

The words were running around her head. Had they stopped since the day before? Those, and so many other words. About how a cock was better than a dildo. About how Ethan could fuck her arse. Any time he wanted.

How much she wanted her arse fucked.

She hadn’t said a word. Ethan hadn’t either. They’d just rushed to the room. Stripped off, Madison flushing in embarrassment at how wet she was, how she much needed it.

She’d brought the lube with her this time.

I love having a cock in my arse. I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.

Madison’s body quaked, proving the truth of her words. If anything it was even better this time, her body lying face down on the table, spent, her muscles limp noodles. Sure, he’d fucked her pussy. She had to give Ethan that he knew how to do that. Maybe better than anyone else ever had. But his cock had spent more time in her arse than anywhere else. She hadn’t even had to ask this time, Ethan seeming to sense what she wanted.

And she wanted it so much. Even spent as she was, Madison’s back arched, a low, animal, moan escaping her lips, as Ethan’s glorious cock pulled out and plunged into her arse again.

I love having a cock in my arse. I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.

Madison came, again. How many times had she cum? She didn’t care. She loved it. She wanted to raise her head. Wanted to push back with her hips. She couldn’t, she was so gone. Maybe she could just lie there as he fucked her arse.

I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.

The voice was so certain. For a moment Madison hesitated. Having her arse fucked was amazing. And maybe Ethan was the only person who could do it.

I can’t ask a stranger to fuck my arse.

I can’t ask a friend to fuck my arse.

So maybe it was just Ethan. But saying he could do it whenever he wanted? Giving him the decision? That was too much. It was almost like-

“Drop for me, Madison.”

The girl was so vacant he had to wipe a trickle of drool from her chin.

“Who can fuck your arse, Madison?”

“Ethan,” she replied without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he smiled. “Anyone else?”


“Good girl,” he repeated, playing with her hair. He bent down, inhaling her scent, Madison not reacting at all. “And what do you think about having your arse fucked?”

“I love having my arse fucked. I cum from having my arse fucked.”

He had her repat that a few times for good measure, as he showed her how much she did love it. The girl had responded so well this morning. He hadn’t even had to say a thing, her own desires, so wonderfully implanted, driving her in just the direction he wanted.

She was happy to repeat every other command he’d given her as well.

You can stew on that.

“And remember. You’re not addicted. Any time you think that, the thought vanishes. You never had it. Repeat this a few times ‘I’m won’t think that I’m addicted to having my arse fucked. If that thought occurs, I’ll stop thinking it. I’ll forget I thought it.”

Madison repeated that just as happily as everything else.

Ethan repeated the process every day for the next few days. By the next week he only had to look at her and look to the door of the meeting room and she was practically running from her desk.

God, Madison thought, not wanting to look at Ethan after their latest session. She was scared that if she did look at him he might glance at the meeting room and then she would…

She didn’t want to think what she would do. She knew. Her arse was sore. Sore in such a good way. Such a delicious, wonderful, oh my God, way. But she didn’t want to do it again. Twice in one day would be too much. Even once a day was too much. It was like she was…


The thought almost formed. Then vanished.  She couldn’t be that. Whatever it was.

What was I thinking? Oh right. No, not doing it twice in one day.

Madison started as Ethan rose from his chair. Don’t look at the door, she begged him. Don’t look.

Even though they’d only just returned to their desks minutes ago, some traitorous part of her wanted him to look. Wanted him to ask. She knew exactly what she’d do if he did look.

I’ll let Ethan fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.

Even when he’d just finished fucking it.

Ethan didn’t look at the door. Didn’t even look at her centre, his eyes boring into hers.

“So, I needed to ask you something,” he smiled, a lop-sided smile.

About fucking my arse? I cum from having my arse fucked. I love having my arse fucked. Madison batted the thoughts aside. They were true. But they were so embarrassing as well. It was like she was. No, she couldn’t be. It was just that it was all so new to her. Her eagerness would wear off soon. Sometime. Probably.

“Addiction.” Ethan’s smile seemed fixed on her face. “It’s a state of dependence, right? Characterised by an inability to control behaviour, and dysfunctional emotional response.”

“Yeah,” Madison allowed. That was first year textbook stuff. Ethan should know all that. Obviously he did, he’d just quoted it at her.

“But what does it feel like to the person who’s addicted? Knowing the definition is one thing, but that’s not the same as experiencing it.”

That was fair enough, Madison allowed, but she still didn’t see what he was getting at. Especially with the way he was smiling, like it was all some private joke. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Well, if someone was trying to unethically create addictive behaviour in a subject, that subject probably wouldn’t be a trained psychologist, so they may not recognise it as an addiction. Most addicts don’t admit their state, right?”

“Yeah,” Madison allowed, trying to ignore how Ethan seemed to be smothering a laugh This was serious. He should know that. “Most addicts deny it, unless they actually are starting to look for treatment. Addiction can be deeply destructive.”

“Right,” Ethan nodded, finally conquering his mirth. “So if they were told what addiction was like, what it felt like, they could be aware and look for that in themselves.

“Well, maybe.” Madison wasn’t convinced. Even people who knew what to look for could end up addicted to painkillers and the like. That sort of self-reflection wasn’t easy. It couldn’t hurt though, she supposed.

“Well, it’s an overwhelming need,” she began. “The addict feels anxious or stressed when denied the source of their addiction.  There’s a feeling of emptiness or depression. Then, when they feed the addiction, everything feels great. Not just from the experience itself, but addicts often feel generally emotionally positive.  There’s a whole literature on it. If you want, I can give you some references.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Ethan nodded. “Thanks.”

With that he turned and headed back to his desk. Madison couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Even so, she turned to own work with enthusiasm.

She’d just been fucked in the arse.

And that made everything wonderful.

That feeling stayed with Madison the rest of the day but by the next morning there was a quiver of anxiety to her thoughts.  Ethan hadn’t looked at her. Not in that way.  Was he getting bored with her? She hoped not.

I love having my arse fucked.

It was so good. She could barely focus on her work, wonderful memories of what it felt like to have Ethan’s cock filling her arse flooding her mind.

God, she needed it.

God, I’m not? Am I?

The thought vanished. She hadn’t had it.

It was especially easy to forget as Ethan looked at her and looked at the door to the meeting room.

“Drop for me, Madison.”

She did. The girl was just lying there, spent from having her arse taken again and the orgasms that had wracked her body.  Idly, Ethan wondered if he’d ever tire of taking her. Probably, he allowed. At least on a daily basis, He doubted he’d ever tire of her completely. She was just too good a fuck.

“How much do you want me to fuck your arse?” he asked, after deepening her trance.

“So much,” the girl muttered, giving a tempting little wiggle of her arse.

“That’s right,” he smiled. “So much. You love me fucking your arse. What were you feeling before we came in here?”

“Wanted it,” she replied softly. “Wanted it so much.”

“Were you anxious?”

“Yes.” The word was almost nothing more than a breath. But it meant so much.

Got you, Ethan thought gleefully.

“That’s right,” Ethan told her. “So deep. Mind so empty. You believe my voice. You felt anxious. Unhappy. And the longer you go without me fucking your arse, the more anxious and stressed you feel.” What else did she say? The words of their conversation came back to him. “You feel empty and depressed.” Empty, oh yeah. “Tell me how you feel if you go too long without me fucking your arse.”

“Stressed,” the girl whimpered. “Anxious. Empty. Depressed.”

“Good girl,” Ethan reassured her. “I’m here. It’s okay. Look, I’m fucking your arse.” It felt amazing as his actions matched his words. “You feel good now, right?”

“Yeah,” the girl half-smiled, even deep in her trance. “So good.”

“Now think of a time you felt anxious and stressed. Got it?”

“Yeah,” the girl replied. “Exams.”

Bet we’re both glad we’re through with those, Ethan allowed. “Right. Take that feeling. Magnify it. Think about how you’ll feel at your thesis defence. A job interview. So stressed. So anxious. Think of it all together. Piling in. Drowning you. That’s how you’ll feel the longer you go without me fucking your arse. So anxious. So stressed. You won’t be able to concentrate. Won’t be able to think of anything else. How will you feel if I don’t fuck your arse?”

“Anxious,” the girl mewled pitifully. “Stressed. Can’t concentrate.”

“Good girl.” Ethan patted her back. “You love having your arse fucked. You cum from having your arse fucked. It feels so good.”

“Mmm. Good.” He loved that little wiggle, the way it made her arse grip his cock just so.

“Now Madison, what do we call someone who gets anxious and stressed when they can’t get something they want? If they feel depressed and empty?”

“A-addict?” He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“That’s right,” he said, stoking her hair gently. “Such a good girl. Listening into my voice. Knowing it tells you the truth.  You get anxious and stressed and depressed if you go too long without me fucking your arse. That means you’re addicted to me fucking your arse., right.”

“No,” the girl shook her head slightly. “Don’t want to be addict.”

“Shush,” Ethan commanded. “How do you feel about me fucking your arse?”

“I love having my arse fucked.” Her hesitation of a moment ago was gone. There was something almost like enthusiasm in her voice. “I cum from having my arse fucked. Ethan can fuck my arse whenever he wants. My arse is always available to Ethan.”

“That’s right, Madison. You believe that. You know it’s true. And what do you feel if you go too long without me fucking your arse?”

“F-feel stressed.” God, the way her lower lip trembled. He was tempted to stop her there and just fuck her. But if he got this right. She’d be his. Forever. “Anxious. Depressed. Arse feels so empty. I feel empty.”

“That’s right,” Ethan declared. “You feel anxious and stressed. Just like an addict. You’re an addict. You’re addicted to me fucking your arse. Say that, and believe it.”

“I’m an add-add,” For a moment the girl paused, Ethan concerned she may balk.  But then the word fell from her lips. “Addict. I’m addicted to Ethan fucking my arse.”

“Good girl. So deep. Understanding these truths. Say it for me again.”

“I’m an ad-addict.” Less hesitation this time. “I’m addicted to Ethan fucking my arse.”

Ethan’s slide down her neck, his fingertips brushing her naked shoulder. “Deep down, you know that’s the truth. You won’t admit it to yourself, not yet. But you know it’s true. Now say it again. Believing it, accepting it.”

“I’m an addict. I’m addicted to Ethan fucking my arse.”

She was so close to what he wanted now.  “Again. Keep repeating it.”

“I’m an addict. I’m addicted to Ethan fucking my arse.”

He could barely hear her, the girl so far gone, by the time he let her stop.

“One last thing,” Ethan whispered in her ear. “Addiction affects people’s behaviour, right?”

The girl just nodded, speech beyond her.

“You want your arse fucked. By me. You’ll make it easy for me to fuck your arse. So no more jeans. Just skirts and dresses for you. Cute and short.”

She nodded again. His hand tightened possessively on her hip a he took her arse again. He could just imagine her in a short skirt, showing off her leg.

Her arse.

She was almost his.

(To be continued)

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