Boundaries

Dr. Virginia inhaled sharply, forcing her trembling hands flat on her desk. Her knuckles whitened, but her voice emerged with strained professionalism. "Mr. Cox," she stated, ignoring his shuddering gasps and the damp stain spreading on his shirt, "please compose yourself. Ms. Jones, this session requires mutual respect." She deliberately avoided looking at Jessica’s throne-couch or the guard nuzzling her sneaker. "We will begin by establishing boundaries. Dave, verbalize one expectation you have for Jessica during these sessions." Her gaze locked onto Dave’s flushed face, a lifeline thrown into the absurdity. Dave gulped air, blinking his eyes. "Expectation? I expect her to stop making me—" His erection surged back instantly, painfully hard beneath his ruined shirt. "A Bonerific little pseudo-intellectual with a compulsion to beat my meat!!" he blurted, voice cracking into a falsetto squeak as the words were **** from him.

Jessica giggled, a sound like tinkling bells dipped in honey. "Boundaries? Oh, Doc, you’re adorable." She wiggled her toes against the security guard’s **** face. "But okay, let’s play." She snapped her fingers lightly. Instantly, gravity released its hold on her. She floated upwards, hovering a foot above the couch, legs parting slightly. The guard below her didn’t hesitate; driven by an invisible command, he lunged forward, burying his face between her thighs with frantic, worshipful fervor. His muffled groans filled the room. Dr. Virginia flinched, her carefully constructed therapeutic script dissolving. She opened her mouth to demand the guard cease, to assert control, but what came out was a low, rhythmic drawl: "Fo' shizzle, Doc G, we gotta peep the dynamic, dig? This here situation be mad complex, straight up bafflin' like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, know what I'm sayin'?" She blinked, confused by her own words, then pressed on, her professional jargon warping into streetwise slang. "The patient manifestin' mad stress signals, gotta acknowledge the elephant in the room, but check it – homeboy's hardware be actin' a fool, doin' its own thang, ya feel me?" She gestured helplessly at Dave, oblivious to her linguistic shift.

Dave, meanwhile, was experiencing a new dimension of horror. As Jessica levitated, his spent cock twitched back to life with alarming vigor. It didn’t just harden; it *elongated*, thickening and stretching impossibly upwards. It swayed gently, then, with a mind of its own, curved sinuously towards his face. He tried to swat it away, but his arms felt leaden. The engorged tip, glistening slightly, tapped him playfully on the forehead. *Tap. Tap-tap.* Like a curious puppy nudging for attention. He whimpered, trying to recoil, but his head was pinned against the velvet cushions. The playful taps became a soft, rhythmic thumping against his brow. "N-no! Stop it!" he choked out, utterly powerless against his own rebellious anatomy.