The Sex Rehab Diaries: Stacey’s Confession by kennyjf
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Cuckold type fantasy turned to “reality” then Therapy – By Dancing Doll , I found this story on another site and didn’t see it here (although the search engine leaves me with some challenges). The author was Dancing Doll.
Author’s Note: The Sex Rehab Diaries is an ongoing series, featuring the intimate confessions of the patients of Dr Clark’s group therapy class for sexual addictions at The Belleview Retreat for Sexual Health
“I’m Stacey, and I’m a sex addict.”
I knew I wasn’t the only person in the room that was in denial over that statement even as it left my mouth. ‘Admit that you need help and recovery will come quicker and last longer’. I had to hold back my initial laughter as I’d read the mission statement that had been emblazoned on the front of our orientation binders at The Belleview Retreat for Sexual Health. My mind immediately substituted “cum” for “come” and… anyway, yeah I guess I was probably one of those people that needed to take my sexual exploits a little more seriously after all.
I had actually changed a lot after meeting my boyfriend Matt three years earlier, and even more so after we had moved in together. He was just as sexually adventurous and twisted as I was, and I started to realize there was something to be said about quality over quantity. I no longer craved sexual attention from other men. I had everything I needed between us. During those years we had an insatiable and very monogamous sex life. We were the hot young couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public, causing our friends to be envious, and making them wonder what our secret was. And sometimes I would tell them. We had always been firm believers in letting ourselves explore a wide range of dirty and perverse sexual fantasies. We would spend hours in the heat of our raunchy weekend play, hotly whispering our desires and spinning scenarios that we’d probably never really carry out, but verbalizing them and imagining how far we could push our boundaries had always been part of the thrill. How was I to know that we were opening a dangerous door that one day I’d have trouble closing again?
I can still remember Matt’s face the last time I’d come home from one of those nights.
“It’s gone too far Stacey… the whole thing has gone way too far…”
I shook my head to clear it of the disturbing memory. I was in sex rehab to get help. And after I released the skeletons in my closet, I would be closer to starting with a clean slate and making our relationship work again.
I turned to the class in our group therapy session and all the faces that were surrounding me, wondering if they would judge me. Hell, I might have even judged myself if I’d heard my story as an outsider looking in. I started to sweat into my four inch red stilettos. I probably should have dressed in a quieter way, but this was my last day reveling in my bonafide slut status before I started walking away from my sexual addictions, and I was definitely going out in style. The short black skirt was tight and shiny and the bustier top pushed my breasts up high. I had left my dark blond hair loose around my shoulders. I was dressed just as I had been on the night that had started my spiral into depravity. It gave me a little thrill, even knowing I would burn the outfit before my stay at the resort was over as a final symbolic sacrifice to the ways of the old Stacey. I could feel the familiar dampness of arousal on the back of my neck and I licked my lips. Yes, I would have to say goodbye to that Stacey. The dirty, slutty cum-sucking Stacey that couldn’t get enough cock and loved to take it up the…
“Stacey, why don’t you introduce yourself properly,” Dr Clark, said absent-mindedly as she looked up from her clipboard. The therapist smiled in her usual detached way, completely oblivious to how wet my panties already were. There was something austere and yet simultaneously awkward about her. It was as though she was playing a role she wasn’t quite comfortable with, but was desperate to authenticate. “It says here that you cheated on your boyfriend…uhm… multiple times?”
“Well, that’s not exactly true. At least it wasn’t in the beginning,” I began, nervously twisting the papers that held my written confession in my hand. I wanted to set the tone right away. I had always been a faithful girlfriend… sort of.
“In some ways, to be perfectly honest Dr Clark, I feel like I kind of got duped. I mean the cheating, if you want to call it that, was all part of the fantasy. If you want to get technical about it, this isn’t completely my fault.”
I heard a round of laughter and giggles from the circle of fellow addicts that surrounded me.
“Settle down class,” Dr Clark admonished sharply. “You’ve all been in Stacey’s shoes before. Denial is the first stage to recovery. And clearly there’s a part of her that isn’t ready to let go of this… side of her.” I could see her eyes raking over my provocative outfit with obvious scorn.
“I wore this on purpose, by the way,” I assured her.
“And thank god for that,” the good-looking guy to my left said with a low whistle. “She has my full attention.”
“Shane, I don’t believe that hitting on every single girl that shares her story in this classroom is part of your treatment plan,” Dr Clark said with sarcasm. “Now why don’t we let Stacey tell us why she’s wearing this… outfit.”
“I was wearing it on that night…”
“The night you cheated on your boyfriend?”
“No, the night he wanted me to cheat on him. There’s a difference.”
“Interesting concept. Why don’t you begin telling us your story.”
I uncrumpled the pages I had been tightly holding onto and took a deep breath. I began to share how it had all began.
The first time Matt and I had discussed the idea of me having sex with other men, I thought he was trying to test me. Maybe he was worried about my promiscuous past and was wondering if I was still willing and wanting to fuck other people. He had brought it up while I had him tied to our four-poster bed, lustily riding him. He was wet with sweat beneath me, gagged and restrained while I moved on his cock with my hands pressed against his chest, using his body as leverage. As he was nearing his climax, I tore the gag from his mouth, feeling my pussy tense around his shaft as he started telling me how hot it would be to hear me tell him in dirty detail how I’d just fucked a total stranger and let him turn me into a slut. An inexplicable primal kind of arousal flamed through me as we began to spin details of the fantasy. I untied him, feeling him take control and pin me down on the bed, his breath hot in my ear, telling me how exciting it would be to know I had submitted myself completely and then come home to him to playfully torture him with every filthy detail.
The cuckold fantasy took on a life of its own over time, alternating and taking turns with me in control of the situation and dominating him and then him eventually punishing me for my dirty transgressions. I don’t know why it ended up being one of our favourite fantasies to play with. It was a novelty for me, having always been with such possessive boyfriends in the past to imagine the man that I loved getting turned on by such a sordid scenario. For him the idea of me subjecting myself to such a raw kind of defilement to taunt and tease him was the ultimate in female control, and it was something that he had always encouraged in me.