Dr Nathaniel J Mason. PhD, BM, FFSRH, DFCASA, MIPM, PGDipPST.
Est 2010
The small brass plate on the wall was not designed to inspire or intimidate, but it often did. Nathan was well qualified and liked to reassure those that were coming to his practice to know that he had worked hard to get where he was now. It had worked. His practice was well sought after, often with long waiting times to even be considered for an appointment. His offices were tasteful but with a touch of ostentation that his successful, and quite profitable, practice could afford.
Nathan himself was well built. He had the luxury of not having to work a traditional nine to five. As such he had managed to maintain the physique he had acquired during his five years of military service back in his youth. He had come to education later than some in his field. Although he had been bright at school, very bright, and had achieved excellent grades, he had always felt a push towards action. In his youth he had interpreted this as a call to arms and had joined the Royal Marines. He had enjoyed the camaraderie, and had done well, but after a tour in the Middle East and seeing the trauma on both body and mind that combat could inflict on healthy young people his intelligence and compassion had made him realise he was not making the best use of his time.
He had saved most of his money, had had few friends outside the service and his only real hobby at the time, archery, was not expensive to indulge in. So when he found himself back on civvy street at the tender age of twenty four, feeling like he had wasted his opportunity to make the most of the education system, he took a risky gamble and enrolled on a college course in psychology. he worked part time jobs, sometimes two or three at the same time, to fund his way through education. It had taken seven long years of dedicated study to get his PhD. Another five to get his own practice. But since then he had thrived and was rising to the top of his field.
One of the perks of being successful was the freedom to indulge. He had taken up archery again, and was scoring highly in tournaments. He had a lovely home out of town, as well as his more modest townhouse close to his office. He had a few friends, though most of them felt he could be a little solitary and seemed to not carve the sort of regular social interactions many craved. If he had had any serious relationships he had kept them very quiet. The rumour mill occasionally speculated he might be gay, but that was very far from the truth.
The truth was, that Nathan knew he was a dangerous man. he had felt it in school, he had felt it on the assault course, he had felt it in the desert sands of Iraq. There was something.... not evil, no not evil, but something dark, predatory. he knew it, and his pull to psychology was probably, in retrospect, ain internal manifestation of his own need to understand himself. He could name his desire, he could define it.
He was a dominant. It was a dark hunger that hounded him. He wanted to see women debased, on their knees, his cock in their mouth, He wanted to fuck them, hard, in every hole. He wanted to hear them call him master, to keep them bound and squirming, begging, as he brought them to climax again and again.
As a mature man, he knew this was not so terribly unusual. BDSM was a niche, but growing kink area. It was less taboo than it once wa thanks to certain notorious novels and movies. But that was not the issue Nathan had, or the reason why he tries to shun female relationships.
In his fantasies, the girls were often either unwilling or unwitting. In his dreams he would corrupt, seduce, coerce. There was nothing romantic about these fantasies, they were selfish, manipulative needs to control and assert his superiority over a woman.
And he hated himself for it; better to live apart and protect women from his desires.
But the problem with deep, innate desires was that would not just go away, and denial may only magnify the needs rather than suppress. And his work put so many women in his path, so many vulnerable women with a need to be helped. It had started off with small things, helping women to gain confidence through dress choices. He had manipulated one girl into being a more confident, successful woman by implanting in her an association with stockings and garters under her work clothes as a 'delicious secret' that empowered her to be confidence. and of course, she had to prove each visit she was taking his advice. He had made her dependant on his therapy, and eventually he had got her into his bed. He was not proud. but it had been sweet. He had made this happen, and she had felt like it was her own choices. The thrill had been... exquisite. But she had not shared a love of bondage, and so he had let that end. But it had begin a pattern that could not be broken. a number of 'experiments' that ended up with him with a willing girl to fuck. But each one lacked in some way, or he grew so repulsed with himself that he broke it off before he did something really dark.
And then, one day, a file appeared on his desk.
She was... stunning. Normally he barely glanced at referrals, but his PA, Claire, knew that pretty girls with relationship issues were one of his specialities. Clare saw him as a guardian angel, saving these girls from danger. She was so naive! But she tended to put the cases she knew he would work hard on to the top of the pile.
As he read, he felt the 'pull' and he twisted his head to one side as if to shake off the urge, but it was strong. It had been a while and she was so.... beautiful. The file offered hints, suggestions... she might be just what he needed. Maybe she might even be 'the one'. The one who could save him the one who might be able to take all he could throw at her and still come back for more.
The appointment was made, and now he waited for her. Sat in his chair. NO desk between them, no false barriers. He was dressed in sharo grey suit, waistcoat. His jacket hung over the back of his chair. No tie, he did not want to come across as making a point of being educated or superior. First meetings were all about establishing trust. She knew his physique could be intimidating. He was a large man, and army service and two gyms sessions a day had kept him toned and strong. But he wanted to appear calm, open, ready to listen.
He reached back to his desk com and called Clare.
"Send her in please."
He rose politely, trying not to tower over her too much, and proffered her the seat next to his, not too close, but not too far away. A low Georgian coffee table adjacent with water and tumblers, a box of tissues and a tray of biscuits.
He smiled. "I'm Nathan, sit down, let's chat."
He waited for her to get comfortable, not rushing her as she settled.
"It's very good to meet you. Please, no titles in here... why don't you tell me what has brought you here today."
He sat back in his chair, hands on his lap, casual relaxed. ready to wait for al song as she needed to find the words to explain why she was here.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
