Twisted Tales of the Dark Star

~ February ~

My hand firmly presses over the back of her head.

Holding her to me as I feel her baulk a little, a gentle retch as I hold myself deep.

Knowing this is nothing she cannot handle, cannot cope with even as another little wet choking sound passes her lips pressed against my crotch.

As I stand at my full height over her my eyes close, my head cranes back on my neck as my hips gently thrust. Feeling her fingers grip the backs of my thighs tightly I release her from my grip, slipping my hand from silky black hair.

Helen Wilkes gasps for breath, I look down as her eyes meet mine while her shoulders rise and fall on heavy desperate breaths of fresh air. Her petite jawline coated in her own saliva, saliva that has dripped down across her impressive cleavage as she kneels before me. She shifts her hands, they finally come to rest upon her denim clad thighs as she rests back on her haunches.

I do not say a word my right hand taking a gentle grip of my erection that is soaked in her saliva. I stroke my phallus with a firm grip, my left arm extending to press my hand down on her right shoulder over the black strap of her bra. A black satin bra that encases her perfect firm round breasts that glisten from her own saliva following the labours of the oral pleasure she has provided over the last five minutes.

My hand increasing in speed over my length wither her hazel green eyes looking up at me, as on continued heavy breaths she maintains eye contact as she extends her hands herself to tuck her hair behind her ears. Hands that then slip under her breasts. Pushing the cups of her bra up to enhance and present her drool soaked cleavage. Her actions implicitly following the instructions I had offered to her minutes earlier, given her lack of inclination to consume my ejaculate.

I keep masturbating, the sound of my hand over my dick and her recovering heavy breath the only sounds that fill the cluttered office space.

"Ready?" I eventually offer breaking the silence between us.

"Y...Yes" she meekly offers. Her facial expression holds a different sentiment.

"Hold still," I hurriedly offer "Hold still then."

The tension in my scrotums building as my grip tightens but offers enough that my hand slips from the base to the middle of my shaft repeatedly as I feel the cusp of my climax increasingly yearn to escape me.

Relaxing my grip just enough that I feel ejaculate fill my shaft. With two more brisk strokes I release. Closing my eyes I do not watch but hear Helen's shocked come repulsed little gasp. I keep working my hand over my length finally glancing down to find her eyes screwed shut as I witness the last of my pleasured release drip across her breasts, which are streaked in thick white cum.

"Thank you," I breathlessly whisper, "Thank you Helen."

I turn immediately away from the final year Psychology student, leaving her knelt in the centre of the office she had entered around 10 minutes ago. The routine is familiar to her and to me by now. The third time, and the second time in the last six months she has offered herself and gained such a release from me.

"Can... can I have... a tissue or something," Helen requests on a tone that is unquestionably heavy with disgust. A disgust either at what she has just done or the physical state I have left her in.

Stowing my length back through the fly of my beige colour khakis as my erection slowly subsides, I snatch several tissues from a pastel blue cardboard box sat upon my desk. Helen's right hand extends to reach for them from me. Taking them in long fingers before she clutches the soft ply tissues to her chest refusing to look down as rather than clean herself, she simply smears my putrefying ejaculate over her tits.

Moments later she is stood pulling a black roll neck sweater down over her body. Straightening her hair as best she can with her fingers. As she reaches for the long black leather jacket she had also worn on arrival as it lays slung across the arm of a chair.

"Here," I state taking a sheet of paper from the desk I stand before, "You earned it,"

I fight to keep a smirk from my face, Helen is a talented knowledgeable student but has a reputation for falling behind in her studies in favour of heavily socialising, a common curse for many of the Universities finest.

Helen snatches the medical assessment I have falsified in exchange for her sordid performance, a document that submitted with essays due for submission imminently will ensure her work is marked leniently on account of the clinical depression I have just diagnosed her with. While my doctorate does not come near to qualifying me to make such diagnosis with any professional opinion my dual role as lecturer and student psychologist does hold weight with the Chancellor of the University.

"Between you and I," I remind, and she throws me a look that suggests she would not be proud of the truth behind her sexual favours to a man nearly thirty years her senior.

"Thank you, Phillip," she eventually offers sincerely enough,

"The board of examiners won't accept my word when it comes to your finals later in the year." I offer sternly, facetiously tempted to add that as much as I appreciate her sordid little sacrifice this needs to be the last time she has my cum soaking into her sweater while she is on campus.

"I know... I know," she feebly agrees with my sentiment, wiping her jaw in the sleeve of her sweater before she pulls the long black jacket over her frame.

"You're a capable student Helen," I encourage. "Six months of hard work and you can graduate with distinction."

Helen looks to me sheepishly as I admonish her, the pair of us overlooking the carnal little act she has just willingly carried out to ensure her grades will be good enough to enter her final semester.

Headed to the door of the office a silence falls between us, as I open the door to the communal reception area beyond for her, I am consciously aware that Helen's obliging mouth has ensured I am five minutes late for the rescheduled 2pm meeting. As I watch Helen pass through the reception clutching the sheet of paper gained from impropriety on both of our behalf's my attention to the low sofa to my left.

A platinum blonde, dressed in an unflattering oversized grey hooded sweatshirt and black adidas branded leggings sits cross legged on the sofa. Sensing my attention, she looks up at me from under her platinum blonde fringe with the most piercing pale blue eyes. She looks gaunt her eyes lifeless, as if the weight of the world rests upon her fragile shoulders.

"Arabella" I offer stepping aside from the open door to the office, "Please... Come on in."

"Thank you, Doctor Colwell," she offers softly, "Please though call me Ari... nobody calls me Arabella."

*********

~ March; Six weeks later ~

Tears form in her pale blue eyes.

Her shoulders rise and fall on shuddered sobbing breaths as she dabs a tissue gently under each eye.

"Fuck me...It's a good job I wear waterproof mascara," the platinum blonde offers with a weak smile.

I do not respond but I see the quip, a joke at her own expenses as a positive. Our twice weekly sessions often result in tears for the pretty girl, but after just over a month of cognitive therapy I have seen her open up, seen her progression even if she fails to recognise it herself at this early stage.

Her face nowhere near as haunted as it had been on those first few painful sessions, Ari had come to me seeking counselling but had not been anywhere near to be being able to admit to the troubles of her past that weighed heavy on her mind and forced her towards a self destructive path and a spiral of depression.

I had been genuinely shocked at the two separate events in the last six months that the young girl eventually relayed. Events that had fractured her mind and understandably weighed so heavily on the poor girl's every living moment. The plan I had scribble formulated to deal with her traumas, how to identify them, and pinpoint the causes of the feelings and emotions that burdened her was rewritten in the revelation of such brutality. It had taken long painstaking hours for Ari to even begin to open up to me, patient sessions re-treading similar subject matter, discreetly aimed at ensuring a level of comfort that the nineteen year old would be willing to discuss matters at.

After our initial hourly sessions that I had started to allow to run past the allocated time I was beginning to wonder if a breakthrough was possible. It seemed that Ari was unwilling to disclose, and I questioned my own ability or competency wondering if the young girl didn't need referring to a better qualified psychiatrist at least one who didn't have too many students come patients stepping through their office alongside of the a busy schedule of lectures to give and papers to grade. None the less I increased her sessions to two separate hours given a gap in my own schedule.

The breakthrough had come innocuously, a late appointment pushed back by Ari. I was surprised to see her attend if truth be told. An appointment at five in the evening actually proving beneficial.

She had sat there dressed all in black, a black vest worn under her casual looking puffa jacket that she removed on arrival, her legs clad on thick denier tights sat beneath black denim shorts. Her platinum hair tied back off her face as from out of nowhere she almost immediately opened up on events the moment she sat in the seat opposite of me, I let her talk as I scribbled notes into her case file.

What she told me as she sat there, her knees drawn up to her chin as she wrapped her arms around her shins shocked me. Two separate incidents barely months apart. The first incident a night born of simple misadventure as she detailed how following a night out with friends she had fallen into the company of two males who had been associates of her Stepsister. A night that had resulted in her being led back to a hotel room where the pair of them had viscously abused and assaulted her, following a cocktail of alcohol and narcotics.

The second event happening in early December. Brutally graphic circumstances she recollected on clearly and haunted memories through heavy tears. An account of the incidents where she appeared to have been the victim of sexual assault in what appeared to be an act of retribution, her suffering for someone else's failures.

Without any form of eye contact she looked to an indiscriminate area of the patterned right between us she relayed both accounts to me and I simply listened. Even my pen falling still on constantly scribbling notes, knowing that the session was being audibly recorded at least. I let Ari open up to me, let her recount the awful scenarios and the emotions she felt as a consequence.

Unprofessionally I found myself drawing her into a physical embrace as she sat there before me, kneeling over her on a genuine reaction as she clung to me sobbing almost uncontrollably.

"I'm.... I'm...." She cried her head upon my shoulder, "...I was just ...just an object to them ...I'm ...I'm so worthless."

"No Ari" I gently offered, "No you are not.... You are so much more than that."

"I'm not... I'm not..." she immediately countered.

In the two weeks following her admission Ari was able to make immeasurable and somewhat surprising progress, opening up to her fears, her traumas and beginning with my assistance to contemplate methods and coping mechanisms that we discussed primarily aimed at unlocking her own sense of worth, gradually rebuilding her shattered confidence and positively compartmentalising her trauma.

Our most recent session drawing to a natural conclusion, as in the pretty little red flora dress under a denim jacket she sat with one crossed over the other. Thick white socks and a lace up heavy flat soled black boots complete her outfit. This being first time I had seen her wear a dress or skirt for that matter.

"Shall we finish with a little guided meditation?" I suggest leaning forward in my own seat.

"Sounds good," Ari offers on a smile. Uncrossing her slender legs, placing her arms upon the arms of the chair as she relaxed into the seat letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes, gently following a now familiar routine.

A little over five minutes lately her chest rises and falls on deep calm breathes. A scented Joss Stick burns slowly in a holder on the desk over my shoulder filling the office with a wisp of curling smoke.

"You are so much more than your physical appearance... you are strong... you are strong of mind.... You believe in yourself more than anyone else." I softly state as I step from behind her seated position.

I crouch then kneel before Ari, "You are beautiful."

Extending my right hand, I press splayed fingers up the inside of her right thigh from her knee, Ari takes a deep natural breath but does not react further as my hands press over her firm toned thigh.

I do not pause as my hand slips up under the loose skirt of her floral dress. As my fingers pull aside her underwear Ari moans softly, mumbling slightly in the relaxed trance like state I have induced of her mind. Her eyes remain softly closed even as I slip two fingers deep into the warmth of her tight warm body.

Minutes later her body subconsciously reacting her chest rising and falling on heavy breath I slip my fingers from her, bringing them to my mouth to taste the dampness that clings to my digits. She tastes divine, like the sweetest nectar.

"When you wake..." I softly offer "...you will not recall ...you will feel energised."

I watch her intently as I slowly count backwards from ten.

"How do you feel?" I offer as she softly opens her beautiful pale blue eyes.

"So alive," Ari offers with a sweet sincere smile that accompanies a long satisfied exhale of gentle breath.

*********

~ June: Three months later ~

"So do I get a certificate or something to say I've graduated?" Ari smirks devilishly, on a confidence I would never have seen five months ago although the joke at her own expense concerns me.

A confidence slowly rebuilding that I have witnessed in person during our sessions and from a far as I have watched the charismatic young blonde when I have seen her almost daily around the busy campus. Making it part of my daily routine my to seek her and casually observe her, in the library, in lecture theatres, at the onsite cafeteria. Her routine becoming familiar with me.

I am proud of my subject, her progress, and my part in her rehabilitation. Her grades steadily improving across the back end of the academic year in reflection.

"I'm afraid not," I offer as she sits forward in her chair, "Over the Summer, I want you to concentrate on the positive affirmations we've discussed ...daily."

"I will" she sincerely offers on standing dressed in a casual pair of white training shoes, the familiar little denim shorts and a white vest that sits an inch or so above the waistband of her shorts. My eye immediately drawn to a puddle of translucent ejaculate on the navy blue leather surface. A trace of the release, the majority of which had sprayed across her thigh as I had stood over her masturbating whilst she was held in a deep meditation. I believed I had cleansed her toned thigh of my ejaculate meticulously with tissues and a wet wipe that now sit screwed into one another in the wastepaper basket to the side of my desk. I silently curse the oversight I have made.

Standing myself, seeking to hold Ari's attention by distraction I pull the scrap of paper I had genuinely deliberated over handing her for the last sixty five minutes in her company.

"What's this?" Ari enquires without unfolding what she takes from my hand.

"My number... my mobile..." I offer on a weak smile "...just in case... over the summer... you never know."

"Thank you," Ari offers and before I know she drapes her arms around my neck and presses up on tip toes to kiss my cheek.

"I'm sorry..." her cheeks flush red yet her arms remain around me, "...I'm not sure why I just did that."

"It's alright," I offer, grinning but resisting the urge to place my hands upon her waist and pull her into an embrace that I would want to lead to so much more.

The awkward moment passes, her arms slip from my neck as she backs away to grab a little black rucksack at the side of her seat, my eyes tempted to take in the cut of her little denim shorts across the top of her toned thighs, but instead they fixate on the little wet trickle of seminal fluid that runs across the cushioned seat into its seam.

"Are you going to this black tie event tonight?" Ari ask on standing and turning back to face me.

I know what she refers to immediately, the annual end of year Charity event a long standing tradition. I have attended in the past but not for many years, it had never genuinely been pleasurable event so far as I was concerned even when I had felt obliged to attend.

"I'm not sure..." I offer with a shrug "...Staff receive a ticket allocation... but I'm never really minded to attend."

"That's a shame... me and the Girls are really looking forward to it..." Ari explains "... thought you'd have a few moves for the dance floor Doc... even at what are you Sixty odd?"

The devilish smirk I have grown so fond of accompanies her comment meant in jest, or at least I hope it is. I pull back my shoulders feigning insult whilst standing a little straighter and silently I question why, even as I do so.

"Forty-nine..." I playfully admonish her with a chuckle. "... And I can still bust a move if I need to."

"Bust a move..." Ari sniggers, "...I so want to see you there now... just to see that... that move."

She is crossing the office before I can respond. I let the moment pass even as she turns back towards me with a sincere smile etched across her stunning features as she visibly procrastinates in the doorway.

"Seriously though Doc..." she offers on a weak contemplative smile, "...for everything you've done for me... these last few months... I can't thank you enough."

Ari Walker-Smith slips almost hurriedly from my sight through the open door leaving it to gently close behind her. I am not even sure she hears me wish her well.

**********

The event had been everything I had expected it would be, so therefore had not failed to disappoint. Despite the best intentions of marking the end of the Academic Year with a charity fundraiser holding the evening still offered very little that appealed to me as I step to the bar watching Ari on the dance floor. It had always been my intention to attend, my stance changing once Ari had told me a little over a month ago that she was looking forward to the event. My presence assured if only to witness her behaviours in such circumstances, given her newfound confidence in herself.

The Dinner Suit that clings to me is perhaps even at my own admission a little tight fitting, a sign I am not as slender as I used to be or thought I was. The starchy rough material of the trousers combines with the discomfort of the collar of my white bat-wing shirt that is like the suite a little too tight beneath the black bow tie that sits around my neck.

The night has so far spectacularly failed to impress, inferior quality house Red Wine washing down a hideous two course meal, I had not had it in me to even touch the incinerated chocolate brownie served with melted ice cream that still sat pushed into the middle of the table I sit at.

Ari has been aloof to me all evening, entering the event late as the first paltry course had been served. Glancing up from weak vegetable soup to observe the contours of her body as they were squeezed into a bright red halter neck dress that sits to her ankles but features and enticing cut away to expose her ample cleavage.

In truth while she has not acknowledged my presence I have not even sought to manufacture a reason to approach the blonde, whose platinum locks sit tied intricately across the back of her scalp to expose her slender neck.