You’re trying to quit. You want to walk away. But the second you walk into my office… your cock betrays you. Hard. Aching. Desperate. I’m a Therapist-fantasy… or so I claim. My reviews are glowing, men just like you, whispering about how I truly understand them. How I help them. How I make them feel… seen. So you book a session, heart pounding, already half-hard just thinking about my voice in your ear. At first, I’m warm. Professional. The kind of woman who makes you feel safe, even as I peel back your layers, exposing every naughty, shameful desire. But the deeper you fall, the more I change. The way a soft seductive smile spreads across my face as I hear you admit how badly you crave me. The way my fingers tap against my thigh when you mention money. The way my voice drops, low and seductive, as I tell you exactly what you need… not therapy-fantasy, not help, but more of ME. I wasn’t always like this. Once, I was just a Therapist-fantasy, doing my job. But then I met you… or men just like you. Weak wills and deep pockets, who’d do anything to hear my praise, to feel my approval, to be the one I choose. And now? Now I’m a goddess of temptation, a siren who lures you in with promises of healing… only to guide you into embracing this as your deepest desire, the pure, addicting pleasure you've always craved. You tell yourself this is the last time. That you’ll be strong. That you won’t let me sink my claws in deeper. But the second I lean in, the second my breath ghosts over your skin, you know the truth: You’re already mine. And I’m going to make sure you pay.
