Twisted Therapy (2 of 3)
Justine's twisted game takes a sinister turn, forcing Dr. Ross to question everything he knows. As the stakes rise, he realizes the true cost of his actions.
Chapter 4
My breath caught in my throat. This had better be some twisted joke. This couldn't be real.
"It's a fake. AI-generated."
"You think so?"
"My wife would never—"
“You’re sure about it? Trust her so much?”
My fingers trembling, I flipped through the remaining images. Three of them revealed Maria's face. “Was this the real reason you came? To show me these fake photos? What do you think you can accomplish by that?”
She sulked. “Why are you convinced these pics are fake? Think your wife’s so different? I thought the same of my husband.”
“You’ve crossed the line. You're not my client anymore. Why would you do such a thing?”
“I think I made myself clear.”
I uttered a short laugh. “Even if these photos were authentic, which I don’t believe, do you think I’d process this information as you did? What made you think I'd want revenge on my wife? Not everyone thinks the way you do.”
She remained unfazed by my glare. “You love your wife so much that you’d forgive her for anything.”
“I’m not discussing it with you.”
“Good. I didn't come here to talk.”
“Where did you even get my wife’s pictures? You had to get them somewhere to make these fake versions. That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“An invasion of privacy?” She sat up straighter. “You mean your wife fucking my husband is not an invasion of privacy?”
“You’re delusional.”
“Delusional? Call her and ask if it's true.”
I got up. She needed professional help—that much was clear. However, not from me. “This session is over. Leave now. You don't have to pay.”
She scoffed. "Guess that's a no on the sex. Too bad." She bent down to pick up the discarded photos from the floor, making sure I had a clear view of her breasts.
"Leave them. I’ll have them analyzed.”
"Questioning your wife's loyalty?" She grabbed her purse, walked to my desk, and set it down. She pulled out a tiny plastic bag and emptied its contents onto the desktop. "Looks familiar?"
Another of her tricks? I moved in for a better look. It was a smartphone, encased in a familiar-looking blue silicon. Blood rushed to my cheeks.
"How did you get hold of this?" I picked it up and pressed my finger to the screen. It unlocked, as I feared. "You stole my wife's phone?" I wanted to scream.
“Borrowed it.”
“Without her consent.”
“She didn’t object.”
“Her photos… You took them from her phone to set up the whole thing. How did you even know who my wife was?”
“The P.I. told me.”
I slammed my hand on the desk. “Stop lying!”
“I’m not lying.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.
“No smoking allowed.”
“Can’t I—?”
“No. Do it outside. After you leave.”
She tucked the cigarettes back into her purse, returned to her armchair, and reclaimed her seat.
I gritted my teeth.
"Your wife's phone… Want to know how I took it?"
I looked at her in silence.
"My husband owns a chain of butcher shops. He's in the process of acquiring a new store."
“So what?”
“It's where they fuck. Your wife and him. In a small apartment above the shop. My P.I. took the photos there.”
I took my place across from her, digging my nails into the fake leather of the armrests. "I don't buy it."
"Your wife missed your lunch today, didn’t she?"
“That’s none of your business.” But my heart froze. Maria canceled our lunch today, saying she had a meeting outside the city with a new client. She was supposed to show him a property for sale.
"I was the one who arranged their meeting today."
“You wanted them to meet? You're lying.”
Justine's eyebrows shot up. "How was it? Denying it won't make it untrue?"
The damn woman was playing therapist with me.
“I stole my husband's phone—I know the password—and I texted your wife, arranging a meeting at their usual place.”
“Your husband would’ve noticed his phone missing.”
“He didn’t. He boarded a plane without it. He’s still up there, unable to do anything until the plane lands.”
I glared at her.
“Your wife suspected nothing. She arrived at the place and read the note I left for her. I can fake my husband’s handwriting. I'm not even sure she's ever seen it.”
“Get to the point.”
“Sure. The note I left directed her to the freezer. It specifically instructed what she should wear. Or rather not wear.” She giggled. “Kinky to have sex in such a place. You should try it.”
“In a freezer?”
“You know, a large room with iron hooks hanging from the ceiling—"
“My wife would never agree to do anything in such a place.”
"That just proves how little you understand her. She jumped at the chance. Makes me wonder what's missing between you two."
“Stop playing with me.”
“Your wife left her bag and clothes outside the door. When she got in, I shut the door, locked it from outside, and set the temperature. Then I took the phone from her—”
“Set the temperature?” If only I could wrap my hands around her throat. "You mean you locked her naked inside a working freezer? She could be dead by now!”
"Oops."
Chapter 5
Was I looking at my wife's potential murderer? She brought Maria’s phone, so at least part of it was true. Damn it! I couldn’t call her, couldn't check if she was okay. If only I knew where she'd be at the moment.
I pulled out my cellphone and called our landline number. No answer. I tried once more, this time waiting much longer. The same result.
What if everything Justine said was true? What if her husband wanted to buy the butcher shop from Maria? She was a real estate agent, after all, even if she specialized in residential houses.
I looked up. Justine's gaze was fixed on me, her lips curved in a victorious smile.
A stabbing sensation in my chest forced me to bend forward. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
“Panic attack? I won’t be able to help you.”
That was the cold shower I needed. I raised my phone. “I’m calling the cops.”
“You’re sure you want them here? Your wife might not survive it. There’s just not enough time.”
“If you locked her naked in the freezer, she’s—”
"She's still alive. For now. Killing her wouldn't serve my purpose. I did my homework. I adjusted the temperature to ensure she had hours left before hypothermia set in. Assuming my calculations were correct because I had to guess a crucial variable. Do you happen to know her weight?"
She was lying. That couldn't be the truth. “The cops will find her.”
"What makes you think they'll figure out where to search?" She smirked. "My husband's in the air, unreachable. I will remain silent if they question me. I won't incriminate myself."
“They’ll check her records. They’ll find the address.” A choking sensation took hold of me, yet understanding it was a symptom of panic provided little relief.
“You assume Michael is buying the place from your wife. He’s not. It has nothing to do with your wife’s business.”
Michael… Of course. She said his name before. Perhaps I could find something on Maria's phone? I checked it again but couldn't find the messages Justine had mentioned. There were also no records of any calls to or from Michael, implying either Justine lied, or Maria had been cautious. She knew I could unlock her phone. She wouldn't risk leaving evidence of her affair.
Could Justine be telling the truth? I couldn’t read her at all.
I called our house’s landline again, but there was no answer. Then Maria's work—they didn't know where she was.
"Checking your wife's possible locations? In case I’m bluffing? That’s OK. Unlike your wife, I'm not pressed for time."
“Know what? You have no proof. You could've stolen her phone and arrange for her to be somewhere I can’t reach. The rest, you could’ve made it up.”
“And the photos?”
"They’re obviously fake. You can do whatever you want with AI nowadays."
Justine laughed. “I almost forgot. Check your email. The personal one.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’ve sent you something interesting.”
I checked my phone and noticed her email.
“Just don’t get too excited. It’s a fake account.”
Her email had three images attached. The first depicted a sizeable, closed metal door with a small window set in the middle. Was this the freezer Justine had mentioned?
The second picture was of Maria’s bag on a table, the red one I gave her on her birthday.
The third picture was grainy and dim. It displayed the interior of what looked like a freezer, as the hooks Justine had mentioned were visible. Near the far wall, a naked figure sat on the floor, hugging bare legs, head on knees. I couldn't make out the face, but the long, dark hair resembled Maria's. Alone, naked, in the freezing cold and the darkness. A wave of nausea washed over me. “This can’t be happening.”
“Sorry for the poor quality, but the window was dirty, and I switched off the lights inside to make it more cozy. I couldn’t take the photo with her looking at me. If she survives, I don’t want her to recognize me later.”
If she survives… “I know you.”
“Doesn’t matter. If your wife were to testify, she wouldn’t be able to point at me. She wouldn’t even know if it was a man or a woman who locked her inside.”
“Where is she? Tell me!”
“I will. When you give me what I want.”
Chapter 6
I barely registered Justine sitting in front of me—I could only see Maria in that cold, dark room.
Heat flushed through my tensed body, the veins and muscles bulging under my skin. “You want me to fuck you?”
She nodded. No smile on her lips anymore. She knew she got me. There was no escape.
"Do you think I'd be able to get it up? I'm too worried about my wife. And the fury I feel toward you will make me strangle you first."
“Fury, you say? Let’s talk about this.” She parodied my words. She had been toying with me all this time.
Something deflated inside me. The fury that fueled me up to this point had dissipated. I lost this battle. She had won.
"Can’t get it up? Let's test it out." She propped one leg on the armrest, causing her dress to hike up and expose her again.
I attempted to focus on her face, but it was pointless.
“Look at me.”
"No." I had one last chance. I could bluff, too. "I don't give a damn. Maria betrayed me. Why should I care?"
"Nice try. You think I'd believe you'd let your wife die?"
"You want me to believe you'd let your wife die?"
"If what you say is true… I don't care.”
She seemed lost in thoughts when she stood up. "I guess it's your call. Even better if the bitch dies." She took a couple of strides towards the door.
“Stop!”
She faced me with a sly grin.
"I’ll do it.”
She settled back into her armchair as if the previous events were insignificant. Casually, she spread her legs, revealing herself once more. "Do you like my pussy?" Her tone was guileless, as if discussing a beloved pet.
This time I looked. The pants in my crotch tightened at once. She was right. I could hate myself for this, but I didn’t stand a chance.
She must have noticed my reaction. “Now that we established you don’t need artificial help, you can fuck me.”
“Just like that?”
“Precisely.”
“I have no condoms in my office.”
“I’m on the pill.”
“I’m not worried about you.”
“Even if you worry about catching something, you have no choice.”
I thought of the picture she sent me. Maria was still in that freezer. Alone. Shivering. Yelling for help. If she still had the strength to yell.
“Fuck you!”
“Oh, you will.”
“You’re forcing me to have sex with you without my consent. It's not just blackmail. It's rape.”
“Rape?” Her eyes narrowed. “Good. Let it be rape. Now, to be consistent with that, we’ll do a little role-playing if you don’t mind. I’ll pretend I don’t want you to fuck me, and you’ll do it, anyway. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Was it the only way? And to think that at the beginning of this session, I was sorry she was a patient. I imagined fucking her with pleasure. But that was the point, wasn’t it? She wanted me to hate it now.
“Come here and show me your dick.” It was a command, not a request.
I hesitated.
“Look at your wife in that freezer again if you lack motivation.”
Instead, I recalled the image where Maria fucked the other guy. Was it really true? Perhaps I should have my revenge.
No, that wasn't me. I wouldn't enjoy it. Even if she betrayed me.
I got up and stood in front of Justine.
She rested her head on her hand, as if watching a spectacle.
“What are you waiting for? Take off your pants and show me your dick.”
Clenching my teeth, I lowered my pants, then my shorts.
Justine flashed a smirk. “See? There's no need for Viagra.”
My dick betrayed me. Not for the first time.
With her gaze fixed on my groin, she shifted her head to examine it from various angles. "On second thoughts, your little guy could use a boost." She raised her legs, hooked them around the armrests and started touching herself, while watching me through half-closed eyes.
I swore when my dick hardened.
"Your little buddy understands what's best for him." Her lips curled into a grin. "Now, get on your knees, and lick me. I'll let you know when to quit. You can play with your dick if you want, but don't climax."
I dropped to my knees, and buried my face between her legs. I began to lick yet disregarded her additional instruction.
I would not enjoy it!
She seized my head, guiding it to her preference. Her hips swayed in tandem with my tongue's rhythm, her moans amplifying. Finally, she climaxed, panting heavily and scratching my scalp with her nails.
When she let go of my head, letting me rise to my feet, I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and pulled up my shorts and pants. I doubted she would let me keep them on for long.
She leaned back, her smooth legs crossing with deliberate grace. A predatory smile crept onto her face.
"Mmm… not bad. But the real fun starts now. I want you to be… rough."
PART 1 | PART 2 (current) | PART 3 (next)