Amy Zoe Donaldson had a terrible fear of dogs. Months ago at the beginning of summer, she had been bitten by one, and though the mark on her arm had disappeared the mere sight of a dog would make her fear for her life. Over time she learned to avoid dogs which helped her to stay calm, but a new problem had emerged and had become a real drag on her wellbeing
All characters and locations are fake, any relation is purely coincidental.
Amy MacDonald had a terrible fear of dogs. Months ago at the beginning of summer, she had been bitten by one, and though the mark on her arm had disappeared the mere sight of a dog would make her fear for her life. Over time she learned to avoid dogs which helped her to stay calm, but a new problem had emerged and had become a real drag on her wellbeing.
She was eighteen, only a month into university and finally getting her first taste of freedom, yet she now couldn’t leave her own student house. Why? Because the neighbours next door adopted a pyrenean mastiff a few days ago. All beige and bigger than herself. She hadn’t been able to leave her home to attend lectures because the dog is almost always in their front garden whenever she steps outside. It was silly, but the dog’s very presence made her freeze up and go back inside. It’s like she physically couldn’t go near it, her body refused to out of fear and she would nearly suffer a panic attack.
After a week, Amy realised she couldn’t hide inside forever. Keeping her distance, she managed to catch the dog owner’s attention and asked if he could keep his dog inside. She tried to explain her phobia but the man didn’t really understand. From his perspective, the dog wasn’t loud or threatening in any way, and he was free to have the dog anywhere on his property. Amy wasn’t getting anywhere with this approach, so she went back inside in a huff.
Amy knew that moving the dog inside wouldn’t really solve the problem. She needed help from a professional. But that was expensive, especially for a student. National healthcare was free but unhelpful; she’d been talking to them for months to no avail. So she looked online, scrolling for hours through a maze of scams and self-help courses before stumbling onto a private psychiatrist that seemed too good to be true. This was the headline:
“Licensed psychiatrist offering heavily discounted (90%) services in exchange for participation in studies of the short and long term effects of various heterodoxical psychiatric treatments of mental traumas, phobias and anxieties.”
Amy wasn’t a psych. She was an athlete, and all this mental lingo went past her head. The only words she really cared for were discount, ninety percent, and treatment. She read a little more and found out the psychiatry office was nearby and booked an appointment. They were available the next day. Amy had never felt so lucky in her life, and went to bed with a calm she hadn’t felt in weeks.
The next morning she woke up bright and early to get ready for her appointment. Freshly showered, and clothed. She looked from her bedroom window and saw the mastiff in the neighbours garden. She decided to go over her back garden fence and through some woodland and meadering streets to avoid it.
A short bus ride later and Amy was stood outside of a generic-looking medical centre. White automatic doors opened to her and she entered timidly. The inside of the centre was nice: calm blue walls and white tiled floors relfecting flourescent yellow lights from the ceiling. At the desk a kind woman told Amy to sit in the waiting room to be called, so she did. She was the only one waiting. One of the consultation room doors opened and a bespeckled man, smartly dressed with a full head of slicked gray hair stepped out.
“Miss MacDonald?” He asked, to which Amy replied with a nod, “Come with me please.” He motioned to the room he came from. Amy followed.
The room was like something from a film: rectangular shape, carpeted floor, two cherry red sofas opposite each other, each with one arm, bookshelves behind the sofas, and a desk at the far end, behind which was a large glass window with heavy dark curtains on either side.
“My name is Dr. Conseil, and I’m here to help you. Come, sit down.” He said in a gentle voice. Once Amy was laying on the one armed sofa, he proceeded to ask a series of questions.
“When making the appointment, you described your symptoms as ‘a terrible fear of dogs, which prevents you from living your life’. Could you describe this in more detail?” Asked Dr. Conseil.
“Well, it started a few months ago, a dog bit me on the arm after it came loose from his leash. I remember it quite clearly: the bite, the blood, my parents calling the ambulance. It took weeks to heal, and there is still some faint markings on my arm where I was bit. Thankfully there was no serious damage or anything but it was still very traumatising.”
“I see, and this trauma is what devloped into a fear for you?”
“I never really liked dogs to begin with, they were always so gross to me, slobbering and licking, but yes. The bite made everything worse.”
“Everything? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, everything. I stopped seeing my friends that had dogs because I couldn’t bear being near them. The same goes with extended family. Even walking down the street, if I see someone walking their dog I get nervous and move to the other side of the road. I hate everything about dogs, the way they look, the barking, the smell. I especially hate it when a dog tries to touch me, it makes me feel sick.”
“And you now decided to come to therapy after months of living like this?”
“I was actually doing quite well just avoiding dogs, but my neighbour adopted this big, hairy one that is always out in their front garden. I can’t stand leaving my house because the first thing I see is that dog and I literally tremble in fear, before going back inside and try breathing to calm down. I can’t attend lectures, or go outside with friends, or do anything.”
“I see, that must be a real damper on your mood in general, and from what I can observe the trembling could be sign of an oncoming panic attack, which is normal for people suffering with anxiety or PTSD.”
“Do you think I have PTSD? Is it that serious? Would I need medication?”
“I would need more time with you to be sure, but as of now we can safely call it a phobia.”
The doctor continued asking questions to get a general understanding of Amy. Combined with his knowledge of psychology he was able to form an accurate profile of her. She was an athlete, studying Sports and Physical Health at university and competing in the women’s long distance running team. She was smart too, repeatedly getting A’s her entire school life, though she feared her grades would lower since she wasn’t attending lectures. She was small, around five-foot-six, with an athletic body, wavy brown hair and green eyes. She had a very fair skintone and was prone to blushing, with a very slight tan from being outdoors so often, impressive for anyone living in England given the usually gloomy weather. Clearly she was energetic, disciplined and agreeable, given her ability to follow orders and her general excellence at school and extra-curriculars.
The session lasted one hour. It was a consultation for Dr. Conseil and Amy to discuss the issue and figure out the best way to solve it. Dr. Conseil recommended cognitive behavioural therapy to resolve her negative mentality around dogs. Amy was feeling great, finally able to talk with someone who had answers and solutions. It really made her feel like she was making a change for the better and soon she would be able to live a normal life again.
“All that is left to discuss is cost. Since your consultation lasted an hour, you will need to pay four-hundred pounds to Bianca at the front desk.” Said Dr. Conseil.
“Excuse me, but I thought there was a discount? It says so on your website.” Replied Amy, sounding concerned that she may need to pay more money than she had in her entire account.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, the discount is only available to those who participate in the heterodoxical therapies study.” Said Dr. Conseil matter-of-factly.
“Could – I participate?” asked Amy.
Amy put down the contract and finally gave up on staying awake. She changed into her pyjamas and slumped into her bed, but after a few minutes of laying she found herself unable to sleep. She opened her phone and began to scross aimlessly before sexual arousal took over and she found herself looking at porn. Nothing too graphic, she enjoyed reading erotic stories about women being subject to the whims of dominant men, especially when bondage was involved. Her favourite was about the medieval adventurer Torro, who would save damsels from terrifying villians and be rewarded with their sexual sevitude in the night. Such action and lust drove her wild. She loved how the girls were so lustful and would perform acts she could only fantasize about. She read the story on her phone with one hand while the other slide down her toned stomach and into her waistband. She brushed her fingers past her fiery bush and began to rub up and down her slit.
‘The damsel, Princess Dalia, was bound tight with rope, her bosom pushed up and out from the bindings at her ribs. She was suspended above high above a pit of flames in an abandoned castle, while the evil wizard Monculo cackled in the distance. Torro was coming as fast as lightning on his noble steed, thunder in his gallops. He had fought a dozen henchmen and showed no sign of stopping. With one shot from his bow, Torro snapped the rope which the Princess hung from. As she fell, Tauro and his horse jumped over the fiery pits and caught the princes in mid-air. The wizard grew mad with rage, promising that he will get his vengeance. The dashing adventurer and his still bound damsel rode out of the castle and into the night.’
It was corny, but Amy’s pussy was getting slick from the sheer heroism. She rubbed up and down with increasing speed, moving her fingers like a piston. Her clitoris began to swell up against her fingers and she would press down on it while she rubbed. Her whole body began to heat up and she could feel her chest rising more and more. She continued,
‘That night, the still bound Princess offered our hero a most sincere thanks in the form of a royal blowjob . She kneeled at Torro’s feet and unveiled his cock from his trousers to reveal six inxhes of hard cock. The sweet smell of sweat and musk hit her nose as she kissed up and down the shaft, paying extra attention on the glans. She opened her mouth and took his member halfway. Torro groaned in pleasure and swept his fingers through the temples of Dalia’s hair, guiding her through the motion, careful not to drop her tiara. Dalia could feel herself leaking from her pussy, and was focusing entirely on his pleasure since she couldn’t attend to her own.’
Amys pussy was so slick that her fingers were sliding up and down her slit rather than rubbing, with the occasional middle finger slipping into her hole. Pussy juice was covering her inner thigh and her movements were becoming frantic.
‘Princess Dalia’s mouth was a mess of saliva and precum, dripping from her lips. She looked up at Torro with lust-filled eyes and he looked back at her the same, his cock now going the full six inches deep and out in quick succession. Dalia could inexplicably feel her orgasm building despite not touching herself. The combination of the ropes binding her and the hard cock in her mouth was too sexy for her to handle. As Torro quickened the paced to meet his own orgasm, she couldn’t hold back. They both came at the same time, his cock spasming against her throat all the while.’
Amy came at the same time, squirting pussy juice staining her pyjama bottoms. Still rubbing her pussy, she felt waves of pleasure hit her throughout her whole body, and tried her hardest not to moan for fear of waking her flatmates. She felt an intense desire to be bound and used the way the princess was, eager to serve big cocks like a good submissive. As her orgasm faded she removed her bottoms and slept only in a tshirt that night, her mid thigh still sticky with juices. She would shower in the morning.
The next morning Amy arrived at Dr. Conseil’s office with the signed contract in hand. Dr. Conseil was glad, it was extremely important for patients to provide written consent for studies of a sexual nature, or he could kiss his license goodbye and say hello to jail for exploiting the mentally ill. More importantly to him, was that the therapy was more likely to be successful if Amy chose to participate of her own free will.
As per the contract, Amy would receive discounted therapy from Dr. Conseil only after she completed the first run of tests, so she would still be charged the full amount for now unitl the month was over, after which she would be discounted. For two weekly sessions, after one month she would be three-thousand-two-hundred pounds in debt, which would then be discounted to three-hundred-and-twenty pounds, which she could only just afford.
Starting on the tenth of October, there would be two therapy sessions on Mondays and Fridays, each followed by an experimental session for the study. They would take place in the evenings from six-o-clock to seven.
Before Amy left, Dr. Conseil stopped her.
“Before we begin, we will need to take some biometric data, just to get a better understanding of your baseline heart rate, temperature, perspiration, etc. We will require you to wear this for the duration of the test.” He went back to his desk and retrieved a thick black plastic strip with a gold medallion attached. Amy looked confused, but before she could ask, Dr. Conseil was already explaining, “This will go around your neck where it will stay for the next month. In case of emergency it can be removed by myself or another professional in this building, but it is completely safe to wear. In addition to tracking your health, it will also track your mood and report back to us feelings of anger, sadness, happiness, disgust, fear, and lust. It is waterproof and somewhat flexible to allow for cleaning underneath. I’ve been told it’s quite comfortable after the first few days.”
The doctor gave the collar to Amy to inspect. It looked like a dog collar. She was in awe of how nonchalantly Dr. Conseil introduced this to her, as if it were not a dog collar. It was thick, made of heavy, black, flexible plastic. The rubbery feel looked rough compared to the cotton she usually wore, and the gold medallion was circular and engraved. One the front was “Amy MacDonald #01F” and on the back was a return address to the Brunnicks University psychology deptartment, the same university Amy was attending. This must’ve been the ‘equipment’ referred to in the contract, but they couldn’t possibly make her wear this for four full weeks, could they? How humiliating it would be to wear a dog collar around her flatmates, classmates, in public around strangers. Or Christmas when she went back to her hometown, friends and family.
“I can’t wear a dog collar. It’s humiliating! There must be something else I could do. Anything.” She pleaded, her face flushing red.
“I’m afraid not. This is custom made for this study and they’re very expensive. And this isn’t a dog collar, it’s a human neckband, built to measure human biometrics. If people don’t understand they aren’t worth paying attention to.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “You can’t let yourself fall at the first hurdle. Don’t overthink it. You’ve got to be tough!”
Amy though about what he said, and she agreed. She had worked hard to get where she was now, she’d studied hard, she must’ve run over a hundred miles in total to get onto her university team. She couldn’t let her phobia of dogs ruin her life, and she wouldn’t have the money otherwise, even her parents didn’t have the kind of money to pay a private therapist. She would have to take her medicine and bear it.
“O-okay. I’ll wear it.” She said. She lifted her hair out of the way while Dr. Conseil fitted the collar to have a fingers width gap around her neck. There were no buckles, but an interlocking mechanism that locked into position with the scan of a key card. There was no going back now.
Dr. Conseil activated the collar remotely, and two dots lit up on her collar, one purple and one green. Amy couldn’t see them but the doctor could.
“These colourful dots also represent your mood, and allow for quick assessments of how you are feeling. Purple represents fear, and green is disgust, and combined they form shame. There are other colours: red for anger, yellow for happiness, blue for sadness and pink for lust. We will only really need this during tests when you cannot speak, so we can shut the lights for now.” He explained, and with a click on the remote the lights turned off.
“The device is solar powered, so please don’t cover it up with a scarf and try to get plenty of sunlight throughout the day. Continuous mood measurements require a lot of power, so try and be outside often. It goes without saying, but if the device is damaged in any way you will be responsible for covering the cost so do not try to undo the clasp or remove any part of the device.” He continued. He even gave Amy a pamphlet with the same information. Amy tried to pay attention but the new collar was heavy on her neck, she said she understood as she took the pamphlet and Dr. Conseil finally gave her the go ahead to leave. As she left and walked down to the bus stop, she could already feel the stares of strangers who thought she was some kind of bdsm pervert.
The bus itself was full of people, and Amy could feel their eyes on her, which made her blush through her faint tan. She sank into her seat and tried to disappear. The silver lining was that her mood lights were turned off, so at least she wasn’t displaying her embarassment, but that felt impossible right now. She got off at her stop and made a beeline for her home, going around the estate and over the fence to the back entrace to avoid the neighbours’ dog. Taking such a route added ten minutes to her journey, and if it wasn’t for her athletic ability Amy wouldn’t be able to climb the fence to get inside. Even then it still made life inconvenient, especially when she had bags with her. Just being able to go through the front door would be enough proof to her that the therapy was working.
Once inside, her flatmates Victoria and Caitlin were in the corridor and immediately saw the collar she was wearing. Amy didn’t want to deal with their comments and tried to get to her room, but they stood in the way. Caitlin was from France and Victoria from the UK, and Amy was only living with them because of a scheduling error that left her out of a home at the last minute before arriving to university. She was supposed to be living with her friend Megan, who would have been much more supportive of her in her time of need. While they did talk and meet up, it wasn’t the same as being flatmates.
“Why are you wearing a dog collar?” Caitlin asked, a smile creeping onto her face, “it isn’t strange?”
“It isn’t a dog collar… it is a neckband. It’s for an experiment,” Amy replied, sounding much less confident than in her head, “I have to wear it, it isn’t my choice.”
“You are experimenting to be a dog? I thought you were scared of dogs, but now you dress like one.” Caitlin replied.
“If you like we can get you doggie treats and a bowl.” Victoria added, teasing her. Amy was really beginning to hate these girls, and pushed past them in a huff to get to her room. She could hear them laughing as she shut the door.
In her room she turns to the mirror to get a look at her collar. It was huge. Half of her neck was covered in the rubbery strap, and the tag shone like the beam from a lighthouse. It really looked like something from a bdsm shop and made her look like some submissive pervert. How was she supposed to wear this in lectures? She would die of shame. She tried putting over a scarf but that set off an alarm from the collar:
# WARNING: NECKBAND COVERED ABOVE 30 PERCENT – PLEASE EXPOSE NECKBAND FOR CONTINUED USE #
Over and over. It was loud too, so Amy was quick to remove the scarf. She looked back to the mirror with apprehension.
This was how people would see her for the next month. She was uncomfortable and embarrassed, filled with dread at showing up to her lecture on Monday wearing some bondage collar, with her excuse being that she was scared of dogs. How was she supposed to attend now anyway? Even without her phobia, she wouldn’t want anyone seeing her like this. All this tension needed relieving in the form of another visit to the world of Torro.
Tonight’s story begins in the dark of night, where the crescent moon provides the only source of vision for our hero. In silence he sneaks through the grounds of Count Jarguul, a madman intent on taking over the good kingdom of Whynn, reigned by the benevolent King Harvald, father of Princess Dalia. King Harvald had assigned an important mission to Torro: to save the general’s daughter, who had been kidnapped by Jarguul for nefarious purposes. He sneaks past watchmen on the grounds, leaps over the crocodile infested moat, and climbs a side wall into a narrow window with ease. There he subdues a guard in a quiet corridor and takes his outfit as a disguise. He hides the guard, and walks to the dungeon’s entrance, guarded by one man.
“Who are you?” The guard asks.
“I’m the new guy, it’s my shift to watch the dungeon, you can leave now.” Torro replies.
The man looks at Torro with suspicion, but agrees and leaves the corridor.
With the guard out of the way, our hero enters the dungeon, closing the door behind. The dungeon is small, lit with fiery torches on the walls, and in the center is the general’s daughter, chained by the neck to the wall. Other than the look of distress on her face she didn’t have a mark on her.
“Do not fear, maiden, for I am Torro, and I am here to rescue you.” Said Torro, he says, brandishing his sword and slashing at the chain, breaking it in one clean motion from the stone wall.
“So you are the great Torro? Is it true what they say, that you save fair maidens and defeat evil-doers? I have heard these maidens are so grateful for your efforts, they are compelled to… reward you in whatever way you please?” She says, adopting a seductive look into the hero’s eyes. Torro was astonished with how forward the general’s daughter was being, perhaps this dungeon had made her lonely.
“While everything you’ve said is true, may we not wait until after I have escorted you out of danger?” He asked.
“Why? I heard the guard outside, no one will be here until sunrise.” She replied, “Now come hither.” The maiden pressed herself against the muscular macho, who in turn held her tightly before spinning her around and holding her against the stone wall of the dungeon.
‘Finally.” Amy thought to herself, letting her fingers slide down beneath her panties.
With one firm grip he held the broken chain still fastened to her neck and pulled tight, and pulled her dress up around her waist with the other. She squealed under his reign and felt her body open to his advances. In a flash his stiff cock was out and her panties down, revealing her slick and waiting lips. Torro kissed and sucked at her neck before slowly entering her with his member, making her gasp. He slowly moved in and out, developing a rocking motion and quickening his pace. She was like clay, molding to his motion, rocking against his body. The risk of being caught by Jarguul’s men fueled their fire as if this passion were their last; their pants, moans and growls making a lustful duet.
Torro could feel her orgasm building as much as his own as they fucked beneath the torchlight. Her soft flesh gripped by his tight hand made her quiver; the small whimpers of pleasure she made pushed him closer to eruption. After what felt like an eternity Torro stiffened and came deep inside the girl, pulling tight on her metal leash. The maiden could feel her leash tighten around her neck, the constriction sending her into a shaking orgasm, her pussy squeezing tightly around his still erupting cock.
Amy was reading intently, but put aside her phone to pull on her own collar while she masturbated, wishing for someone to fuck and choke her as roughly and lovingly as Torro would.
As their mutual orgams subsided, both Torro and the maiden slumped together against the wall.
“I’m Meredith.” Said the girl between breaths, amd she cuddled up against him, cum still oozing from her. After a short while laying like this, Torro stood up and took Meredith’s hand, leading her out from the dungeon and back through the secluded route he took into the castle. Sneaking past the guards, through the grounds and back to his noble steed, Torro had successfully stolen the fair maiden from Jarguul’s clutches. Still in the afterglow, Torro and Meredith rode into the night en route to Whynn. By morning the general’s daughter would be safe, King Harvald’s kingdom would be safe, and Jarguul’s plan would be foiled. All in a days work for hero, and lover, Torro.
Amy was speechless. She had rubbed herself to the biggest orgasm she’d had in recent memory. She’d read this story many times before, but she’d never read it wearing her own collar. If only she’d had her own Torro to pull on her leash, she would have climaxed her brains out. Who would have guessed bondage was so much better to feel than to read about? Amy was drenched to her knees in her own juices,and she lay there unable to move from such a powerful wave of pleasure.
The rest of the week went by as normally as it could. Amy stayed in her room a little more than usual to avoid her flatmates and the rest of the world, only going out to the back garden to charge her solar powered collar. At night she would masturbate to the same story of Torro and Meredith, playing as the chained up girl, even fashioning a leash from a belt she’d looped under her collar. When she did leave her room she was met with teasing from her flatmates who seemed to get some sick enjoyment from likening her to a dog. Amy concluded to forget them. It was like Dr. Conseil said, anyone who doesn’t understand the scientific importance of the neckband doesn’t matter. Plus, this collar was beginning to show some positives.
Today was Monday, the first day of her new dog therapy program. Amy would try her best to make it work.
She went through her back garden, over the fence and through some back streets to get around the neighbours’ dog. Ever since she discovered this route she could at least go outside, but it added a lot of time to her journey and was becoming impractical with all her books weighing her down. Brunnick was a busy city, so there were plenty of people on the streets and in the bus who made looks or comments about her collar. Amy knew she looked like some bdsm pervert and her cheeks became stuck a shade of pink rather than her usual slightly tan complexion. By the time she made it to her lecture she was late and had to deal with the stares of a full classroom on her as she tried to find a spare seat.
Even though she could hear giggling and a comment here or there, Amy was just glad to be attending again, though she would have to find a faster route to the university or wake up much earlier than her regular six a.m.
After her lecture Amy needed to go to her track team for practice, usually running around campus grounds for thirty minutes. Her teammates were a little confused by the collar, but were kind enough not to make fun of her. They did their run as normal which was a relief from all the judgement Amy had received.
Aside from some bystanders giving her confused looks, the run was uneventful, and the team completed the run and returned to the changing rooms to shower. Her teammates were curious why Amy didn’t remove her collar in the shower, to which she replied it was for a science experiment. They all seemed to be okay with the answer and didn’t want to pry.
In her free time Amy ate something and studied before meeting Dr. Conseil at his office for her first appointment. She hadn’t thought about it all day but now that the appointment was here she was nervous.
“Good evening, Amy. I hope you’re doing well.” Said Dr. Conseil, him sat in one of the red sofas while Amy lay on the other, staring up.
“I’m doing well, but this collar… it’s embarrassing to wear. I get looks from strangers and classmates about it. They all think I’m some kind of, some puppy pervert.” She replied, “How are you?”
“Let’s keep this on you, Amy. I know your neckband is new to you, but I’m sure people don’t think you’re a pervert or anything like that.” He replied.
“But they do – they call me names.”
“What kind of names?”
“One of my flatmates called me a dog, and people on the bus or in lectures make comments and laugh about it.”
“I see. But have any of them actually called you a pervert or a puppy pervert?” He asked.
“Well, no.” She admitted.
“So where do you think this idea of yourself as a pervert comes from?” He asked.
“I don’t know.” Amy replied.
“My expert opinion is that you’re bringing it on yourself. In the mirror you see some perverted collar and project it out onto other people’s view of you.” He said matter-of-factly, “It’s preventing you from living you’re life. Tell me, do you have any close friends or partners, do you attend social gatherings?”
“Not really, I have a friend, Bonnie, and the people on my track team, but they are more like teammates than friends.” She replied.
“Why do you think that is?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” said Amy, “What does that have to do with my fear of dogs?”
“It has a lot to do with it. Life is like juggling, each ball representing your mental wellbeing, social life, sexual life, and your goals and values. When one falls, the others can follow suit.” Dr. Conseil explained.
“So… My fear of dogs is ruining my social life too?” She asked.
“More like your fear of dogs is a symptom of something larger. You are very quick to assuming the worst about the situation, of people, and yes, dogs. You said you disliked them before the bite. Being more open to new things in general can be a huge help in dealing with phobias. You are a virgin, correct?”
Amy was a little shocked. How did he know?
“I’m a mind reader, Amy. I learnt it from twenty years as a psychologist” he joked, “enough talk, we need to move on to our testing program,” he said, walking to the door and opening the door and inviting a milk pale woman with short, curly brown hair which stopped at the top of her neck. She looked around thirty, and wore a white coat over a blue dress, but her hourglass figure was still apparent.
“This is Laura Linton. She will be assisting me in our tests together. As you are aware, we will be exploring base emotions and their impact on fear. We feel it would be better to have a woman’s touch for certain aspects of testing. Is this alright with you?
Amy thought for a second before deciding, “It’s fine.”
“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you Amy!” Said Laura, bubbling with excitement, “You’re such an interesting case, I can’t wait to really pick your brain!” She beamed.
“She’s still new, but you are an interesting case in fairness.” Assured the doctor. “For our first session we will be looking at some photographs, each of which should stimulate one your base emotions: happiness, sadness, anger, fear or lust. We are going to display them for you to determine how you react, which we can measure through your neckband.” He said, setting her emotions on ‘display’ mode. Two dots lit up on her collar, one yellow, one purple, which Laura said meant excited, but Amy would have called nervous.
The curtains were drawn and a projector was being set up by Laura between the two sofas. Amy lay on one sofa facing the wall the projector was facing, and was instructed to stay still.
“To discourage higher functions like talking we will need you to wear this gag,” said Dr. Conseil. “This will help to channel your emotional response which will be sent from your neckband to the monitor at my desk. If at any time you feel in danger just raise your hand, but keep in mind the point of the test is to test the limits of your fear, so please do this only when absolutely necessary.” The doctor sat by the desk while Laura fitted the gag before Amy could say anything. It was a red ball with black straps, leaving Amy sufficiently muted.
With everything ready, Laura pressed the slides at Dr. Conseil’s command.
The first image was of a small brown dog, scaled up for the projector, and made Amy scream into the gag at it’s suddenness.
“Strong fear response,” said Dr. Conseil unempathetically, “next.”
The next image was of a rubber duck, which Amy preferred much more.
“Strong relief response,” again said the doctor, “next slide, Laura.”
Laura pressed the button, and the image was of another handsome man, this time completely nude apart from a pair of boxers. Amy found the man very attractive, and could feel the pink dots on her collar light up.
“Strong arousal response, next slide.”
Another image of a dog, this one much larger, looking like a rottweiler. Again Amy screamed and tried to look away, but Laura held her down to reassure her. Amy wanted to raise her hand and end the test, but knew she would need to be tough. She forced herself to look at the image of the dog despite her fear, and looked as long as she dared.
With Laura holding her in place, Amy screamed into her gag as she stared at the screen, shaking. Strangely, something she noticed was the rottweiler seemed to have something dangling between it’s legs. Was that it’s penis? All red and pointed, with a bulbous mound at the base. She had never considered what a dog penis would look like. Before she could get a good look the next slide was up.
Various images were being shown, each intending to stimulate an emotion from Amy, but usually the images induced fear. It was actually difficult for Amy to sit there, panicking and convincing herself to stay seated rather than to run out of the room.
While the images were being played at random, Dr. Conseil was looking for some kind of pattern. If Amy showed a strong reaction to some primal emotion, specifically stronger than her own fear, then that would be the target emotion he would use to overpower her phobia. Looking at data from the past week he had noticed a sharp rise in lust from the moment he’d attached her collar. Even now, Amy was giving off a stronger lustful reaction to the slides than any other emotion, including fear. It seems that lust was her strongest base emotion, which could be harnessed and conditioned to cure her fear of dogs. In all of his tests the doctor had never found such a sexually reactive subject, and it put a smile on his face. She was a perfect case.
The doctor had been searching for a subject that could demonstrate the use of sexual exploration for fear correction. Unfortunately that meant searching for someone deathly afraid of something, yet still open to sexual experimentation with the subject, not an easy thing to find. They would need to be someone with a malleable brain, vulnerable to a kind of sexual conditioning. If all goes well, the lustful intensity would overpower the fear identity and cure the phobia. In Amy’s case, Dr. Conseil was now sure that he could shape Amy’s brain through sexual conditioning alone, and given how desperate Amy was to fix her behaviour, itresults would likely come sooner than later.
Dr. Conseil made the slides go faster, with some more fear inducing and sexually suggestive imagery spliced in. Hopefully Amy’s subconscious will take in the sexual nature without her conscious self realizing.
The two lights on her collar were now constantly lit. One purple dot for fear and on pink dot for lust. The dogs had begun to look scarier, but were going by too quickly for Amy to react, especially with their scary eyes and bared teeth taking up most of her attention. As well as the multiple sexy men bombarding her between each slide, Amy was losing focus. Her body was having a hard time keeping up with the slides and she found herself feeling something strange that she hadn’t before: fearful arousal. She wanted to masturbate and run for her life at the same time. Laura kept her hands on her, massaging her and providing soothing words, encouraging Amy to ‘feel whatever she feels’. Eventually she fell back and felt her eyes glaze over, the flashing imagery soaking into her brain. After another ten minutes the slideshow was over.
Laura undid the gag around Amy’s mouth, but didn’t really know what to say. She felt dizzy and confused, like she’d just been awoken from a dream. Laura was beaming, congratulating Amy on doing such a good job facing her fears so bravely. Dr. Conseil also looked excited, but more so for his own research. With a sexual case study in his hands he could really explore the role of fear and sexual pleasure. It opened up a variety of testing possibilites that he could try as long as he cured her phobia via sexual conditioning. It would be a minor inconvenience on her part compared to the contribution he could deliver to the scientific community. There may be some sacrifice on her mental state but it could do a lot of good. He needed to be careful about telling her to keep her voluntarily on board.
Amy slowly sat up from her seat, and rubbed her eyes. Dr. Conseil sat down at the sofa opposite her, and Laura sat next to her with her hand on her arm. The lights on her collar had been turned off, but from Amy’s face one could see she was relieved to have finished the test.
“How do you feel, Amy?” Asked the doctor.
“Awful, all those pictures flashing by gave me a little headache, and made me feel ill. I wanted to cry whenever a dog appeared.” she replied, and Laura cooed and rubbed her arm up and down.
“That’s alright, Amy. The images are supposed to be quite aggressive on the eyes. The content was making you upset, but I am glad that you could push yourself through. It means you’re well on the way to recovery.”
“You did so well, Amy,” said Laura, “I just know you’ll be able to get through all the tests this month.” She said, continuing to massage her arm. Amy found it oddly soothing to be touched and encouraged this way.
“Speaking of the remaining tests, we have found something interesting about your mental disposition, Amy. It seems that of all your base instincts, lust is the most powerful. This is quite rare, but since the experiments are, well, experimental, we think it would be best to incorporate this aspect of yourself into our study. Obviously this would mean a greater emphasis on sexual conditioning tests, but it may elevate your progress, and we would still evaluate your other senses.” Added Dr. Conseil.
“What does that mean?” Asked Amy. Laura perked up, she could explain this in a way Amy would understand.
“It means that you responded very greatly to the sexual images in the slideshow, and we think more sexual experiments would be more effective to cure your fear of dogs. By tapping into your fear through a more powerful emotion like lust we can override the fear response, so you won’t feel anxiousness around dogs, but good emotions and sensations” Said Laura, “Now, we are never going to make you do anything you don’t want, but Dr. Conseil believes this is greatly beneficial for both the study and you, and it would be a mistake to decline.”
When Laura said it like that, it almost sounded like it would work, but getting pleasure from dogs? That’s a hard line that Amy wasn’t going to cross.
“I don’t like that. At all. Why would I want pleasure from a dog? That sounds disgusting.” Amy said.
“It isn’t disgusting at all. People get pleasure from dogs all the time, they have pets, guide dogs and even as guard dogs. Dogs can be very gentle and loving, but you need to embrace them, Amy. These tests will help you do that.” Said Laura, gently rubbing Amy’s arm.
“Maybe.” said Amy. “Are you sure this is the only way doctor?”
“For your therapy sessions, and for the study, this is the best option, in my expert opinion.” He replied.
Amy could feel herself being convinced slowly. She agreed to the increased sexual experimentation, and made her way out. Laura beamed at her response, and Dr. Conseil was glad that she didn’t leave. Most subjects often did leave at the idea of sexual arousal of fear, but just as he thought, Amy was a special case.
Amy was feeling conflicted, and had many questions. She had forgotten to ask what tests the doctor actually had in mind for her on Friday, and she still wasn’t sure if that was actually a dogs penis on the slideshow.
That evening, she once again had gone around the estate and hopped the fence into her garden. Once inside her home she was stopped by victoria and Caitlin.
“Hello, Amy.” Said Victoria with a sneer, “You’re collar is looking very nice today, did master take you out for a walk?” Her and Caitlin were both laughing openly, “Or maybe you found a nice big male to mate with? Playing bitch for the the neighbourhood strays?”
Amy didn’t want to talk to them and made a step toward her room, but Victoria and Caitlin both grabbed her.
“Does doggie not want to play? We’re sorry, we’ll give you a treat!” She said as the girls held her down against the sofa. Victoria straddled Amy, pinning her down, and Caitlin went to the kitchen and emerged with a box of dog treats.
“Stop!” Yelled Amy, but the girls didn’t listen. Amy couldn’t move with Victoria on top of her and golding down her arms. Amy may have been good at running but she wasn’t very strong. She held her nose shut and Caitlin pinched her nose until Amy ran out of breath. Amy opened her mouth with a gasp and Caitlin dropped the doggie biscuit into her mouth and held it shut. Amy screamed into the hand clasped around her lips and shook her head to no result.
“Come on, chew it up and swallow!” Caitlin ordered. Amy was reluctant but after Caitlin slapped her tits she began to follow the instructions. Amy chewed on the hard, dry biscuit. The crumbs would dissolve in her saliva and spread a bland sour taste all over her tongue. With tears Amy kept chewing, slowly turning the biscuit into a paste in her mouth that she couldn’t swallow.
“Swallow it all and then show me, bitch” said Caitlin. Amy was unable to spit out the biscuit, and both Caitlin and Victoria were watching her neck to see her swallow. She pleaded to them with her eyes but saw no compassion, only devilish smiles.
“Don’t act so innocent. Because of you and your stupid collar, the people on our street think we’re all perverts. It doesn’t help that you don’t use the front door and freak out whenever a dog shows up. But if you want to act like a dog now we’ll treat you like one.” Said Victoria.
Amy resigned herself and forced the biscuit down her throat and into her stomach, the taste coated her mouth and throat, sticking to it as the biscuit slid donw to her stomach. She opened her mouth to show the girls it was now empty.
“Good Bitch. I think you’ve earned a break.” said Caitlin. The two girls moved off of her and Amy ran to her room. She felt like being sick but it wouldn’t come back up. Did people really think she was a pervert? Were people talking about her and her flatmates? It was all too much for one day, and Amy slumped into her bed to hide from it all. She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.