By
Lisabet Sarai
“What
would Sigmund say if he could see you now, Nathan—stretched across
my lap with a bare bum and a hard-on?”
“Ow!
Hilda...”
“Dr.
Schultz, you mean.”
“Right,
right...Damn! That hurts!”
“Stop
squirming and answer my question.”
“Um—probably
something Oedipal—ouch!—something about wanting to crawl back
into my mother’s womb...”
“I’m
twenty years your junior. Though you certainly do like to suck on my
tits.”
“Gorgeous—ow!—gorgeous
tits, Dr. Schultz. Take your blouse off and I’ll play with them
while you spank me.”
“My
diagnosis? I’d say you had an overactive Id, Nathan. Only stern
punishment can keep your ravenous lusts in check.”
“And
you, Hilda, with your crops, floggers and dildos, have penis envy—OW!
Your fingernails are like knives.”
“I’ll
carve my initials into your ass, my infantile little analyst. You
won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“Oh
no, don’t... Marilyn will see the marks!”
“Doesn’t
your conscience bother you? Deceiving your unsuspecting wife?”
“Ow!
Yes! No! Not really...Oh, Hilda, Dr. Schultz, please. May I come?”
“Naughty,
naughty boy. You’re a mess of unconscious urges and repressed
fantasies.”
“Argh!
God, I can’t stand anymore...”
“It’s
fortunate you have me to play the role of your SuperEgo.”
