Counselling – Seven Days
It’s not just families I offer my specialised form of counselling to – I do it for individuals as well, helping them to talk through their experiences, share their thoughts and emotions, and then applying my specialised techniques to take them through their fears. The following are extracts from my notes for the last week – names have been changed, but the details essentially remained the same…
Monday – Lady A
She came into the room, as I request from all my clients wearing the outfit she had worn on the day we were going to discuss. I find asking for this helps them to relax and recall events more clearly – and she certainly oozed style in her choice of clothes. A brown quilted leather coat, fastened up to her neck with an arrangement of jewellery on top of the collar, and black suede panels on the arms and body; black stockings; and thigh high olive leather boots with a snakeskin pattern, and three inch stiletto heels.
She sat down, her long dark hair down to her shoulders, and put her legs in the classic finishing school pose as I stood up, pad and pen in hand, and sat on my desk in front of her. I thanked her for coming, and asked if she was ready to talk about what happened. With a nod, she began.
“I had been to the club – hence the attire,” she said as she slowly moved her hands down her top, “and had driven home in order to prepare for a party that night. IT was as I walked in that I saw then there – two men, dressed in black leather jackets, jeans, gloved hands, balaclavas – but one was a good foot taller than the other.”
I asked if they introduced themselves, and when she mentioned Mister Tall and Mister Small I knew the pair she was talking about – I have helped some of the people they have visited in the past. So I asked what happened next.
“The taller one – Mister Tall – smiled and very politely asked me to sit in a chair – a bit like this one actually. His partner, Mister Small, then produced a length of rope from a bag and told me to put my hands behind my back.”
I then asked if she was ready, and as she nodded I opened a drawer and took out the length of white rope. Walking behind her chair, I took Lady A’s arms around the chair back and tied her wrists together, while she described what Mister Small did, and then secured them to the chair back.
When I had finished, she said I had got a good close idea of what happened, before saying “Mister Tall then said, if I wished to avoid unnecessary mess, to tell me where the safe was and the combination. While I gave him that, Mister Small used a longer length of rope to tie me to the chair back.” She watched as I took some more rope out and lashed her to the chair back, making sure she was held firmly in place and her arms were fixed in place.
As she twisted round, the ropes rubbed on her jacket and squeaked, making her laugh as she said “yeah, I heard that sound then as well. Mister Tall said as he looked at me that I was a model host for them – and then he left the room, while Mister Small took rope, tied my ankles together, and then my legs below my knees.” She watched as I knelt down and wrapped the rope around her ankles, securing them together as I took the rope around and between her legs, and then secured her legs together in the same way.
As I stood up, she stretched her legs out and looked at them, before she said “well, he then tied my ankles to the leg of the chair, before Mister Small took my jewellery and put it in a bag.” I did the same – outing the necklaces and rings on the desk instead – before I asked her what happened when Mister Tall returned.
“They gagged me – put a knotted scarf in my mouth, and tied the band round my head, then I was left there. My housekeeper found me an hour later.”
I said that was how long I would leave her for, as I rolled up a patterned scarf, tied a double knot in the middle of it, and then gagged her in the same way the Gentlemen had. She nodded as I encouraged her to twist round, give voice to what she was feeling even if it was muffled, and I would watch to make sure she was all right.
She did just that, squirming round as the leather and chair squeaked, and I watched and took notes – then at the end, I untied her and asked how she felt.
“Relieved – and liberated at the same time,” she said, as she made another appointment…
Tuesday – Miss D
Miss D was a model – if she had been a model in the eighties and nineties, she would have featured regularly on page 3 – but she was still a good looking woman in her early thirties. But she had been involved in a bank robbery, and she had been referred to me to work through what happened to her.
When she came into the room, I had to smile at her outfit – a tight crimson red leather dress which barely held her chest in place, and a wrap round skirt, and matching knee length boots with a gold stack heel. I let her tell her story…
“I had just gone in to deposit some checks from shoots – I was only meant to be in and out – when this man grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth, and told the teller to fill the bag he had with money. I could see the look of fear on the teller’s face, and then I saw the gun he had in his hand as he tossed the canvas bag over…
“Well, she filled the bag, and then he told me to take it in my hand – I was going to come with him, make sure nobody stopped him. I was his hostage! Holding the bag, he walked me backwards out of the bank and to a car parked outside, forcing me to lie face down in the back before he took my wrists behind my back and used a zip tie to hold them together.”
I took two zip ties from the drawer, and secured her wrists together behind her back, using the second one to secure her ankles as she escribed this been done to her.
“Yeah – that’s it. He then slammed the door closed, and drove off as I struggled in the back.” I helped her to lie face down on the floor and said she should try and struggle as she had then – which she did, her dress threatening to stop holding her chest in as she did so.
“Well, after about an hour he stopped, and got out before he opened the rear door where my head was. My eyes opened wide when I saw he had in his hand now a rag and a roll of duct tape – the rag he pushed into my mouth, and that was scary enough. But then he wrapped the tape round my head, covering my mouth while he did so. I truly could not speak after that.”
I asked how she coped, and she said as she sat herself up, her black hair falling freely “at least I manged to stay calm. I guess you’re going to do that to me now as well, aren’t you?”
II nodded in agreement, but said I would start by putting a cloth in her mouth, and waiting until she was ready for me to carry on before I did anything else. She nodded at that, and I folded a clean piece of white cloth as she opened her mouth, and allowed me to push it in.
I waited as she closed her lips over it, some stray threads from the edges sticking out from between her red lips, as she sat still for a few minutes, and then nodded her head to show she was ready. I had special grey tape – not duct tape, it doesn’t hurt or harm the hair, but it does stick well, so although her eyes went wide as I wrapped it round her head trapping her hair as I did so, I assured her she would be fine as it pressed her cheeks in.
I wrapped it round three times, then tore the end free and pressed it down as she wriggled round. I spoke to her, asking if the man left her in the car, and she nodded – I then asked her to grunt once for each hour she was there before she was found. She grunted once, so I said she would spend an hour like that, fee from harm, free from fear, so that she can understand she is all right.
And she did seem to enjoy her time in that way…
Wednesday – Mrs V
Mrs V is a regular client – actually, unlike many of those I work with, she is not a victim of a crime or a robbery, rather she was someone who suffered from anxiety, and had not been able to find a cure – until a colleague referred her to me.
Working with her, I found she could get relief in certain – fantasy scenarios and once a week she came for that. And today, she came as a party girl, wearing a pale blue off the shoulder dress with black trim, and black feather earrings, as well as a pair of skin tight over the knee black boots.
We had previously set up the scenario, so I was appropriately dressed as well – a black roll neck sweater, tight leggings and knee length felt boots. As she came in, she put a pair of fingerless black thick gloves with a motif on the back on, and then put her hands up as she said “who are you? Why are you in my house?”
I told her if she did as I said, she would not be hurt – so she had to lie down on the floor, and put her hands on her head. Well, as she did this she kicked her legs up in the air, and turned her head to smile at me, asking what I was going to do.
I had to fight like mad not to laugh as I produced some rope from my rucksack and crossed her wrists behind her back, especially as she was giggling while I tied her wrists together. I then crossed and tied her ankles together, as well as her legs below her knees, before I helped her to kneel on the floor.
As she wriggled round, I took a linger length of rope and tied it round her arms and upper body, holding them firmly to her sides as she said I could do anything I wanted, and take anything I found. No, I did NOT do that, before you ask – I help them act out their feelings, and at times their desires, but I do not take advantage of that.
The rope formed two bands on her upper body, and as I tied it off she started to call for help. To stop her, I put my gloved hand over her mouth, and then took a red sponge ball from my pocket which I compressed and then pushed into her open mouth when I took my hand away.
I then pressed some clear tape over her mouth, made her lie down again, pulled her ankles back and tied them to her chest ropes, and left her on her side, struggling as a video camera recorded her session. That was all she wanted, that was all I provided. Not the most interesting of my clients – but she pays well…
Thursday – Miss J
From the ridiculous, to the serious. Miss J was referred to me by a psychoanalyst colleague, who felt she needed to act out a past trauma which was still affecting her.
As she came in, she was nervous – and having read her case file, I could understand why. She was twenty five years old, and wore a fawn coloured jumper and a pair of denim shorts with a brown studded belt round her waist. Fawn coloured high heeled boots which came up to her knees, and dark hose completed her outfit.
I asked her to sit down, and explained where my skill set lay, and how I felt I could be of use to her. As I spoke, I could see her wringing her hands with nerves, but I spoke as I always do, calmly and reassuringly.
I also told her I was not going to do anything to hurt her, but I wanted her to talk about what had happened. At some points, I may act out part of the story, and ask her permission to do some things, but she could say stop at any time. She agreed, and then began to speak.
“I was going home from a date when this van drew up alongside me. I had no idea what was going to happen as I kept walking – and that… that was when it started…”
I nodded and asked what happened.
“Well – I was grabbed from behind, and this damp cloth was pressed over my nose and mouth. I admit, I panicked and opened my mouth to scream – and that was when I suddenly felt very woozy, and I must have passed out…”
I asked if it was the surprise more than the fear that had gripped her then, and after a minute she said “a bit of both – but I guess it was mostly the chock of the unexpected. Why?”
I walked behind her, and said I was going to put a folded cloth over her face. She may start to panic, but I told her just to breathe normally, and nothing else would happen. She nodded as I pressed the folded soft cloth over her nose and mouth, and she did start to struggle, but I kept talking quietly to her, and she soon started to calm down. I then told her to relax, and let her eyes close, and as she did so she slumped a little in the chair.
Taking the cloth away, I looked at her – she was sat in a wooden armchair with a wide seat, and I asked her to keep her eyes closed, and to tell me what she remembered about waking up. As she nodded, she said “I don’t know how long I was out, but when I slowly started to wake up, I realised I could not move my arms. When I opened my eye, I saw someone had taped my left wrist down to the arm of a chair – a chair like this one.”
I nodded as I picked up a roll of duct tape, and told her I was going to do that to her now, but to keep her eyes closed for the moment. As she nodded, I put her left arm onto the arm of the chair, the palm of her hand down, and used the tape to secure her wrist in place.
She slowly nodded, and said “yeah – it felt like that. Then I realised my other hand was fixed in the same way.” So I did the same to her right hand, as I told her to keep her eyes closed. As she nodded, I said “I guess I was starting to panic then – and I tried to move my legs apart, but…”
“I asked if they were secured as well, and as she nodded I switched to a different tape – one that does not leave a residue or damage, as I knelt down and taped her ankles together, and then her legs together below her knees, talking to her the whole time to reassure her I was not going to hurt her.
She nodded as she moved her legs up and down, and I told her to open her eyes and see her situation. As she did that, she looked at the silver bands round her wrists and legs, and said “good lord – I was so scared that day, but this time… this time…”
That was when the tears started, as she explained how she had felt, and how scared she had been. I let her talk – the point of the exercise, after all, was to let her get these feelings out…
Friday – Mrs B
Mrs B was – well, if you will forgive the phraseology, the typical Jewish mother when she came into my office. Long dark hair under a folded blue headscarf, black waistcoat and knee length dress, with a blue blouse underneath, and sensible black shoes. I had to admit, I was wondering why she had been referred to me, but as she put a large bag down and sat down, she started to explain.
“I know I look rather stereotypical, but I never used to dress this way. My husband and family loved it when I dressed in a different way, but after a robbery at her house, every time I have put the outfits I used to wear on, it had brought the memories back…
“I have the clothes on I was wearing that day in this,” she said as she pointed to the bag, “When I was grabbed from behind and frogmarched to my bedroom. There were two of them – a young man and a young woman – and as the man held me down on the bed the girl started to search through my furniture – throwing everything to the floor as she took my jewellery boxes.”
I handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes with it, as she continued “she then grabbed some tights and they used them to tie my hands behind my back, tie my arms together, then my ankles before they were tied to my arms, and then they used one pair to gag me. It terrified me, and as they left I struggled like mad to get free, but it was too… too tight…”
I let her cry some more, before I asked why she had made an appointment to see me.
“I know you help people relive these events, get through the trauma – and I don’t want to be like this anymore,” she said as she looked at her outfit, “please, will you…”
I nodded as I told her to go into the room through another door, change, and then come in with whatever else she had – I was not going to hurt her, there was no fear there. So she nodded, picked up the bag and walked in – and when she returned a few minutes later, she was wearing a red sweater, tight black leggings and over the knee red leather boots. As you may imagine, quite a contrast.
She also gave me the bag, and as I looked in I saw she had some pairs of tights in there. So I asked her if she was ready, and as she nodded I took the first pair and walked behind her, using them to pull her arms closer together behind her back and tie them together. I didn’t try to make her elbows touch, just tied them so she could not move them apart, and asked how she was feeling.
As she twisted round, she bit her lower lip, and then nodded as I used a second pair to tie her wrists together. I let her get used to that as she said “it feels the same, but I’m not afraid this time – I guess it was the situation, not the clothes?”
That, believe it or not, was the first step I wanted to see, so I told her to relax, accept the situation, and tell me what else happened. Then I invited her to sit on the recliner, and watch as I took two more pairs of tights – one to secure her ankles, and one to secure her legs.
She twisted her legs round, as she described how it felt to me, and then I said we needed to complete the work – but first, I was going to keep her quiet as the two people had, if she was ready. I showed her the unopened pair of tights in her bag, and after a while she nodded, as I opened the pack and took them out, removed the inner card, folded the gusset, and pushed that into her open mouth before I tied the legs round her head. I did not do it tightly, or in a way to hurt her, but firmly enough it would stay in unless she really tried to force it out with her tongue.
Again, I let her get used to it, before telling her it lie down and roll onto her stomach, before I used the last pair of tights to secure her ankles to the one around her elbows. She rolled onto her side as I told her to close her eyes again, to relax, not to try and struggle, but accept what I had done, not out of malice or out of fear, but out of acceptance…
Saturday – Mrs F
I do, on occasion, do home visits, and one of my old clients, Mrs F, called and asked if I could come and help her excise a situation she had found herself in. I had helped her some years before after a group known colloquially as the Family of Crime robbed her and her family, so she knew my methods, but I was curious as to what had happened this time.
So I drove to her house, and she opened the door to meet me. Mrs F is in her early forties, with long blonde hair, and on this day was wearing a leopard print dress and cream knee length leather boots.
She offered me some coffee, and as we sat she told me that the week before – she had been kidnapped? I asked if she knew who did it, and that was when she told me it had bene the so-called ‘Selfie Snatcher’ – he had surprised her at home, and taken her for an overnight trip. Now, despite the fact she was married, her husband was away on business, so in the end he let her go – but she wanted to experience that again, only with someone she could trust?
You can see where this is going, can’t you? We finished our coffee, and then we went up to her bedroom as she described what she wanted me to do. Walking in, she picked up her mobile phone, and took a selfie of herself, before she put the phone on the bed and then stood, her wrists crossed behind her back.
I took some rope she had laid out on the bed, and bound her wrists tightly together, before I took the rope round her waist to make sure they stayed in place. She turned round, and nodded as she opened her mouth, and I pushed the folded grey scarf that was on the bed inside – then I tore from a strip of clear tape a wide length, and pressed it carefully over her lips, making sure at her request there were no creases or air bubbles in it.
When I looked at her, I had to admit it was an interesting and effective method – especially when I took a large white crochet poncho and put it over her head, covering her arms so that you could not see the ropes. I asked if she was ready, and as she nodded I walked down the stairs with her, and then out of the house as we walked to my car. I let her get into the front passenger seat, and strapped her in, before I got behind the wheel and we drove to a nearby country park.
Now, bear in mind as unorthodox as my techniques seem to many, it is always usually done behind closed doors – and here we were, out in the open. Especially as we walked round the park for an hour, me talking and her nodding, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening…
When I took her home I untied and removed her gag, and she thanked me – an interesting Saturday…
Sunday – Miss Y
I was sitting in my front room when the door opened and my housekeeper came in. I’ll call her Miss Y – she’s worked for me for a few years, an Asian lady in later middle age, and she was wearing a leopard print jacket with short sleeves over a blur smock top, jeans ripped at the knees, and knee length black scuffed boots. She had been out for an hour or so, but when she came in she asked if we could have a private session.
I first met Miss Y in a professional capacity, so I knew what she meant, as she said dinner as ready to be started when I was ready. So I took her to a bedroom, where she kept some supplies, and as she slipped her jacket off I selected a length of white rope, took her arms behind her back and crossed her wrists, and then tied them tightly together with the rope.
She thanked me as she wriggled her fingers, and then I took a longer length of rope, and tied it round her upper body, forcing her arms into her sides as it made a band above and a band below her chest. I then tightened it by taking the rope under one arm, up and around the back of her neck, and under the other arm, before making sure it was well secured at her back.
She smiled as she wriggled round, and then sat on the bed, watching as I knelt down and secured her ankles tightly together, and then her legs below her knees, making sure I cinched booth bindings by taking the rope between as well as around her legs. When she was satisfied, I compressed a red sponge ball in my hand, and waited as she opened her mouth before I gently eased it in, watching as her cheeks puffed out slightly, before I smoothed a long, wide strip of white micropore tape over her lips.
She looked at me, the tape crinkling as she tried to smile, and I nodded as I stroked the hair back from her face, and then gave her a gentle kiss on her taped lips, before I knelt on the bed behind her, kissing her neck as I started to massage her chest, listening to her soft moans.
Well, I do have a private life, you know…