Disclaimer:
	The following story may involve explicit sexual descriptions
	and unconventional sexual relations.
	
	By continuing you agree to the following:	
	I am not offended by the description of sexually explicit 
	scenes or the description of alternative sexual lifestyles
	and I do not consider such material to be obscene.
	I am 21 or older.
	The above material is not illegal under the standards of 
	my community.
	
	This story is offered as an insight into current social mores
	and is not intended for prurient purposes.
	
	Author: Unknown
	

The court order was most explicit:  Since I had been convicted of stalking and sexual 
harassment, I was to report to the Women's Center for Personal Empowerment for sensitivity 
training and intense psychotherapy. I had been placed on probation and the therapy was ordered 
as  a condition of probation.  It  was to involve controlled interactions with women in settings 
where they could express their personal feelings over my alleged behavior. 

          I was not comfortable with the order.  I had never admitted to any guilt, and was adamant 
that the woman judge and all-female prosecuting team and jury that had convicted me in less than 
an hour had done so unfairly.  I awaited my nine o' clock appointment at the center with all the 
enthusiasm of a condemned killer waiting for a phone call from the governor.  There was a knot in 
my stomach the size of a baseball when I considered what the "therapy" I was to undergo might 
consist of.  

          The unremarkable grayish brown building that housed the center was in the midst of a 
downtown business complex.  Its name was the only one on the directory.  I took a deep breath 
before I walked into the center and was pleasantly surprised to find that the reception area was 
staffed by an attractive, professionally dressed young woman, not more than 25 years old.  She 
wore a conservative gray business suit with a deliciously short skirt, a  red blazer, and black 
stockings with black high heels.  She was relatively petite with shoulder length light brown hair 
and blue eyes and she smiled readily upon noticing my presence.

          "You must be Daniel," she said.  

          "Yes," I replied.  Another woman about the same age as the first emerged from the back of 
the room.  She stood about six feet tall with bleach blonde hair and wore a tight leotard which 
revealed her muscular physique.  Her unsmiling stare made me uncomfortable. 

          "My name is Miss Palmer," said the first woman.  "This is Miss Wilson.  We are assistants to 
your primary therapist, who will be Miss Collins.  We are here to prepare you for your session and 
to help you in any way that we can.  If you'll just sign the register, we'll get started." I lowered the 
pen she offered to sign my name.  Miss Wilson continued to glare at me. "Just so that you know, 
Daniel, since these appointments are court ordered, you are required to attend each and every 
session and you are required to arrive on time.  If you miss a session or are ever more than five 
minutes late on any given day, the probation department will be notified and a warrant will very 
likely be issued for your arrest."  Despite the nature of the information she was dispensing, Miss 
Palmer's demeanor remained calm and very pleasant. "Do you have any questions, Daniel?"

          "Yes," I said.  "May I call you ladies by your first names?"

          "No, Daniel, you may not."  Miss Palmer's easy smile was replaced by an icy frown.  A 
contemptuous leer came across  Miss Wilson's face as she crossed her strong arms.  "You are here 
to examine yourself and make appropriate changes in your attitude and behavior towards women 
so that you may function in society.  We are here to help you with that process.  We are not here 
to have a social relationship with you of any kind, Daniel.  We are to be the instructors and you 
are to be the pupil.  Am I making myself clear, Daniel?"

          "Uh, yes," I stammered.  Her abrupt change in temperament threw me for a loop. 

          "Yes what, Daniel?"  Miss Palmer asked softly.  Instantly I felt myself transported to my 
childhood, deferring to a long ago grade school matron.  

          "Yes, Ma'am."  I lowered my gaze, somewhat mortified.  Miss Palmer lightly brushed my 
hair.  Her smile returned. 

          "That's very good, Daniel.  Now please follow me."  Miss Palmer walked toward an elevator 
in the back of the room.  Miss Wilson followed directly behind me, as a bailiff would trail an 
offender on his way to jail.  Miss Palmer pulled a large key ring from her purse and found the 
appropriate key to unlock the elevator.  Once the three of us were inside, she pushed the button 
that led to the lowest floor level in the building. 

          "I think I should cuff him," Miss Wilson abruptly said, grasping my wrist and reaching for a 
pair of handcuffs she had hidden behind her back.   I realized upon feeling her grip that she was 
physically stronger than I was.  

          "Not yet.  It's not necessary."

          "But you're taking him to a secure area!"

          "It'll be all right.  Remember your training.  Besides, I think he's been cooperative so far!" 
Miss Wilson rolled her eyes in disgust and let go of my wrist.  Miss Palmer flashed me a smile and 
took my hand into hers, squeezing my fingers gently.  "When you want something from a male, 
Miss Wilson, you try a feminine, firm, rational approach first."  Miss Palmer spoke slowly and 
lucidly, staring  deeply into my eyes.  "That's what makes us different from them and superior to 
them.  Honestly, I think you're starting to act so much like a male sometimes that  I'll have to 
recommend therapy for you."   

           The elevator stopped and the door opened to a dark room.  Miss Palmer reached for a 
dimmer switch on the wall and turned up the light to a soft glow.  The room was completely 
devoid of furniture except for a leather executive-type chair, a straight-backed uncomfortable 
looking wooden kitchen chair, and a small table.

          "Okay, Daniel, I need you to stand with you back against that wall."  I walked over to a far 
wall she had indicated and stood where directed.  The two women faced me, some three feet away. 
Miss Wilson pulled a small knife from her boot.  For the first time, I saw her smile.  We all held 
that position for several minutes, not saying a word to each other.

          "Well," I finally muttered, "uh, what's going on here?"  

          "It is imperative that you feel a victim's terror, Daniel, if you are to have empathy for your 
victims.  Do you feel terror, Daniel?  The terror that comes with the anticipation that you're about 
to be taken in some way?" Miss Palmer smiled and licked her moist lips.  

          "Uh, not really."  Miss Wilson chuckled wickedly and thrust the knife into my shirt, 
making a slit all the way up the back.  She broke through the stiff collar and ripped the shirt in 
two.  Miss Palmer pulled it off and threw it on the floor. 

          "Take off your pants and shoes, Daniel."  Miss Palmer directed.  I quickly obeyed, 
intimidated by Miss Wilson's demeanor.  Soon I was standing naked before both women.  

          "Miss Wilson, dispose of this clothing and restrain our patient, please."  Miss Palmer smiled 
and began lightly stroking my nude body. Miss Wilson shredded my pants and underwear in the 
same manner as she had my shirt and pulled her handcuffs out again.  I offered mild resistance 
when she took my wrist and she quickly flipped me onto my back to the ground and straddled my 
chest.

          "Don't try anything with me, you stupid dick!"  Miss Wilson grabbed me by the scrotum 
and squeezed hard.  "Don't you ever try anything!  I'll pull your cock off and shove it down your 
throat!  Am I making myself clear?"

          "Yes, ma'am,"  Our eyes met and she read the terror in my face.  Miss Wilson smiled.  

          "Roll over onto your stomach and let me cuff you, then."  Miss Wilson loosened her grip 
and allowed me to roll over.  She snapped my hands into the restrains and shifted me onto my 
back once again.  

          "He's struggling, isn't he?"  Miss Palmer unbuttoned a few fasteners on the side of her skirt, 
loosening it.  

          "A little bit."  Miss Wilson had pinned my shoulders to the ground and stared into my eyes. 
" I think we need to calm him.  It looks like you're getting ready to do that anyway, aren't you?" 

          "We can't have him this feisty when Miss Collins comes in to see him."  Miss Palmer 
produced a headset and personal size cassette tape player.  She put the headphones on my ears 
and placed a tape in the cassette player.  Miss Wilson released her grip on my shoulders.  Miss 
Palmer then squatted down and sat squarely on my face.        
                                                         
          "Now, Daniel, I don't want you to attempt to sexually stimulate me in any way unless I give 
you permission.  You will be  severely punished if you do.  I want you to listen to this tape and 
breath in the scent of a woman's crotch.  I want you to think about your life and where it has led 
you, and I want to think about what your future probably holds.  In about ten minutes I'll allow 
you to get up and I'll ask you some questions to determine if you've been thinking about the things 
I've asked you to consider.  If you haven't, you'll be punished."   

          Miss Palmer had a soft, musky, erotically feminine scent that leaked through the crotch in 
her pantyhose.   As instructed, I lay passively and resisted the temptation to flick at her with my 
tongue.  She sat on my face in such a way so as not to suffocate me or make me particularly 
uncomfortable, but rather to surround me with her presence.  Soft, pleasant, new-age style music 
from the tape began to rush into my ears at a volume I did not have to strain to hear, but that was 
not overly loud, either.  Miss Palmer draped her skirt over my face, throwing me into darkness and 
substantially shrinking the size of my world.

          Just as Miss Palmer's musky scent and the hypnotic music began to throw me into a trance-
like state, I noticed a soft female voice whispering beneath the jazz that filled my head.  "You are 
weak," it said. "You are helpless.  It is time to give up.  You are male.  You cannot fight us. You 
are inferior.  You exist for the woman.  It is her world you live in, as it always has been.  Breathe 
deeply.  Behold the scent of she who has mastered you!"  I squirmed a little upon hearing these 
words, and Miss Palmer responded by clamping her legs tightly around my face and cutting off 
my supply of air.  Someone also grabbed my exposed genitals and began to squeeze them until I 
calmed down, at which time Miss Palmer once again allowed me to breathe.  The tape continued, 
placing my mind in a whirlpool of deep sexuality.  Miss Palmer began to lightly hump my face. 
My tongue flicked out in response, causing her to buck harder.  I could feel her hard clitoris 
through her pantyhose massaging my nose, and detected muffled cries of pleasure from beyond 
the boundaries of the music.  Suddenly my face was drenched in womanly moisture, which I 
frantically lapped up.  

          Miss Palmer stood up, and I could see just long enough to notice her crotch being replaced 
by the naked vagina belonging to Miss Wilson.  The larger, stronger woman practically crushed 
my face as she sat, choking off my air supply and humping me roughly up and down.  The music 
continued as I struggled for air.  "Give it up," the tape intoned, "don't resist.  This is as it should be. 
Lick. Suck. Swallow.  Provide pleasure. Let go."  The combination of the tape's soothing music 
and hypnotic vocals coupled with Miss Wilson's rough thrusts and an acute lack of oxygen put me 
into an almost euphoric state.  I did as the woman on tape suggested, letting go.  Miss Wilson, 
seeming to sense this, clenched my cheeks in her thighs with a mighty force, sending a spray of 
female juices on my face, stinging my eyes, flowing bitterly down my throat.  A rough grasp of 
my cock by an unseen hand caused me to ejaculate as well, and I felt a long, warm spurt run down 
my stomach.  

          Miss Wilson rolled off of my face and removed the headset.  She stood up and placed her 
toes in my face.  Instinctively, I licked.  I saw both women smile.  

          "I think he's ready, isn't he?"  Miss Wilson asked. 

          "Uh, huh," mumbled Miss Palmer. "Let's stand him up and move him over to the chair." 
Both women helped me to my feet and sat me down in the small wooden chair.  Miss Wilson 
removed the handcuffs and produced a long length of rope. 

          "What did you learn today, Daniel?"  Miss Palmer quizzed me as she began to wrap the 
rope about my wrists and ankles, securing me to the armrests and legs of the chair.  

          "Uh, I guess that I'm of an inferior species or something."  I tried as best I could to echo the 
words on the tape to avoid the promised punishment.  Miss Palmer smiled.  

          "Yes, you are," she said.  "It's nothing to be ashamed of.  That's just the way it is."  She 
lightly began to stroke my penis, coaxing a soft erection. "All the problems of our society are 
caused by males who won't acquiesce to this simple truth.  The male who is able to realize it and 
surrender to a strong woman mentor becomes calm and contented and respectful of all women. 
Wouldn't you like to be like that?" 

          "Yes, ma'am." Miss Palmer continued to stroke my cock, making it rock hard. 

          "Would you like to ejaculate now, Daniel?"  Miss Palmer asked softly.

          "Yes, ma'am, I would,"  Miss Palmer abruptly stopped.  

          "I am not here to provide you with pleasure, Daniel.  You may ejaculate later."

          "Yes, ma'am," I sighed.  

          "Did you feel the power that I have over you?"  

          "Yes, ma'am." 

          "We have to go now, Daniel," Miss Palmer said.  "Miss Collins will be along shortly to help 
you with some of the things we were discussing."

          "Yes, ma'am."   

          "What about this mess?" Miss Wilson asked, referring to my cum.  It was everywhere.  

          "Let's just leave it.  It's not our problem.  We need to call Miss Collins down here to take 
care of it."     

           Miss Wilson swabbed up a drop of semen in her finger and put it into my mouth for me to 
suck off before they both left.  She leered at me, smiling wickedly, as I did so.  

          "You're in trouble!"  she said.