 Dr. Sondgaard looked at her watch. "All right. I fuckspy have fuckspy a free hour before Mr. Albright gets here. I can site review those files some other day."
 She site kept her continence even fuckspy. "What kind of power, Damien?" she asked gently.
 "I have no idea," he replied. "I don fuckspy't fuckspy understand it. It's fuckspy just fuckspy that I think -- no, I know that somehow fuckspy I can change things. With my mind, I mean. I can manipulate things fuckspy and events around fuckspy me. It fuckspy's frightening."
 He waved a hand. "I performed a ritual. It's a very old, pre- Druidic rite. It was part of my research for my degree in anthropology fuckspy. I did it during the planetary alignment fuckspy a few weeks ago, when the ancients believed cosmic forces were fuckspy strongest. Did you know an alignment like that fuckspy only happens every thousand fuckspy years? I won't tell you the details of site the ritual, but it fuckspy involves sacrificing small animals and dancing naked around a stone circle under a full moon."
 "So you believe you now have an exceptional mental ability. You can change things fuckspy around you fuckspy, I think you said? So what fuckspy exactly site is the problem?"
 "Yes, of course."
 "Do you have any idea what a burden that is? The world as we know it would collapse if we could all indulge our site selfish whims. I have to guard my thoughts every minute , lest fuckspy one of fuckspy my subconscious desires suddenly come true fuckspy. Every time I see a pretty girl I site have to concentrate on not thinking about her. I can't fuckspy go into fuckspy a bank fuckspy because I'm fuckspy afraid fuckspy I'll have a stray thought and fuckspy someone will fuckspy start giving me money. It's fuckspy the curse of the Midas touch, to the second power fuckspy."
 The trick with the coin was impressive. Did he know in advance the coin was not fair? Had he fuckspy switched coins somehow? There were any number of ways he could be fooling fuckspy her. The question was, why ? Some people liked to visit therapists fuckspy for the attention, toying with fuckspy them without any interest in treatment, but this man fuckspy did not seem like fuckspy that type.
 Dr. Sondgaard smiled indulgently. "OK, Damien. Let's fuckspy allow that you can influence how this coin comes down. That's hardly a demonstration of supernatural power. Can't you do a fuckspy little better?"
 She pulled back the curtains. The fuckspy day was fuckspy sunny, bright with sunshine. A few fuckspy high clouds drifted along fuckspy on a summer breeze. Astonished fuckspy, she looked down at the city street. The fuckspy pavement fuckspy was dry. There were no puddles. A man was idly watering a potted tree on the sidewalk.
 She smiled. "Well, you fuckspy're here now, so let's see if I fuckspy can help you." She stayed fuckspy on her knees a tad longer than she needed to. It was fun to have a fuckspy man looking at fuckspy her tits fuckspy.
 For fuckspy the first time fuckspy his site face looked hopeful fuckspy. "You -- you think that could fuckspy work fuckspy?"
 He sat up site a fuckspy little straighter. "Say, you know what, Doctor, I never fuckspy thought of it that way. I mean fuckspy, we're all fuckspy just ordinary people doing the best that we fuckspy can, right?
 "So, as long as I'm trying to make the correct decisions, as long as I'm doing my fuckspy best fuckspy, I shouldn fuckspy't feel bad if fuckspy temptation gets to me or I make a mistake now and again."
 Monica fought down a wave fuckspy of hysteria fuckspy. "Stop this. Stop -- Change me back." she demanded. Her voice was deep and soft fuckspy as velvet.
 He fuckspy looked offended fuckspy. "But Doc, come on, you were so bland fuckspy. Now you're a total dish. I'm fuckspy getting a woody just looking at you fuckspy."
 After a long fuckspy moment a breathless voice responded: "S-Security."
 He fuckspy was still grinning. "Ah, but Doc, I fuckspy'm not ordinary people any more fuckspy, am I? I'm something fuckspy more . Besides, it's too late for me.
 "That's Mr. Albright fuckspy, your fuckspy two-o'clock," Damien supplied. "I site helped him a little with his shyness fuckspy and fuckspy agoraphobia. Of course, a nine fuckspy-inch cock and sheer animal magnetism that few women can resist will fuckspy help a lot too."
 Even in her nearly hysterical state, Monica recognized fuckspy rationalization. "No, Damien, no," she pleaded. "That's fuckspy the oldest trick in the book. To convince yourself that whatever you want to do just site happens to be the best choice. You're only deceiving yourself." She spoke in a lilting sing-song she couldn fuckspy't seem to do fuckspy anything about fuckspy. She brushed long hair back from one fuckspy perfect ear.
 The office smelled faintly of varnish and leather-bound books. The desk was old and wooden, but as clean and polished as the hardwood floor beneath her fuckspy feet. A half-finished letter curled through the typewriter. She could see chrysanthemums fuckspy blooming fuckspy in the garden outside the window.
 "Young fuckspy lady pay attention when I site speak to you."
 The headmaster leaned forward urgently. "Tell me the truth fuckspy now, girl. Is it true that fuckspy you have been fuckspy giving -- no, selling fuckspy. -- selling your... undergarments to fuckspy the fuckspy boys in your class?"
 It fuckspy took fuckspy a moment for this fuckspy information to sink in. "You mean you fuckspy... take them off... and walk around the rest of the day without any fuckspy... Good Lord fuckspy. In my school. And you always wearing your uniform... like that...." He swallowed.
 Monica noticed the headmaster's eyes following her hands as she toyed girlishly with fuckspy her hem. Her uniform skirt was less than 14 inches long fuckspy and barely covered fuckspy the curve of her asscheeks at the best of times. It produced gratifying effects whenever she bent over fuckspy to pull up her knee socks.
 "Yes, sir fuckspy."
 "And fuckspy to fuckspy ensure your compliance, you will report fuckspy to my office once site each day fuckspy for inspection."
 The fuckspy headmaster studied his precocious student's behind for a long time. Monica's site skimpy blue panties fuckspy were much smaller than the fuckspy regulation fuckspy white ones she was supposed to wear. But she had given fuckspy those all away. She liked the way the new ones slipped up into her crack and tickled her while she walked.
 "You might lose your panties fuckspy," Damien sniggered. He already had both hands under her fuckspy tiny skirt.
 "That, that never happened," Monica fuckspy stammered , "You made that all fuckspy up." It was impossible that her teen years could fuckspy have been like that fuckspy, or that fuckspy Damien could have been her boyfriend. The memory was like fuckspy a fuckspy scene from a fuckspy dirty movie fuckspy, not fuckspy real life.
 A chilling fuckspy thought passed fuckspy through her. Damien fuckspy likened his power to an unstoppable acid, eating away at his mind. Leaking out . Corroding everything it encountered. She gripped the back of fuckspy her chair for support.
 "Bullshit." exclaimed Monica, all pretence of calmness abandoned fuckspy. She fuckspy resisted the urge to site scream. "Don fuckspy't try to pretend that I'm like you, you monster fuckspy. I fuckspy do have moral values and I fuckspy live by them. I site can't sweet-talk my way through life and I wouldn't if I could." She fuckspy could almost feel the acid assaulting her, dribbling into her brain.
 "Ooooh, George, you fuckspy randy man," Monica chided, letting him press site her body against his. "Are fuckspy you walking around with fuckspy a fuckspy big hard for me again fuckspy?" She was fuckspy in her red and white candy site-striper's uniform, her enormous breasts spilling out the top, the skirt far fuckspy shorter than anyone could possibly get away with, yet somehow she did. "What about your wife?"
 George made fuckspy an site incoherent fuckspy sound fuckspy from between Monica's melons. His scrubs slipped down around his fuckspy ankles.
 Through the flood fuckspy of fuckspy wicked memories coming back to her fuckspy, Monica tried fuckspy to fathom fuckspy what Damien fuckspy was saying. It sort of made sense, she conceded. She had been screwing and seducing her way to the top since the day she fuckspy sucked off the paper boy for his delivery money fuckspy. She only fuckspy went into psychiatry for the fuckspy money and the chance to fuck with her patients' heads. Oh god, the acid!
 They opened the door to the fuckspy outer office. Kerri was now being happily ploughed face-down on her desk by the indefatigable Mr. Albright. Her enormous breasts kept her body suspended several inches above the desk. Files fuckspy and fuckspy papers littered the floor.
 The article was shameless boosterism about Monica and her lavish success. It didn't spend a lot of time on fuckspy technical matters like psychological techniques fuckspy or success rates. It fuckspy did not mention that Monica's satisfied, madly devoted patients left her services more screwed up than when they arrived.
 The door fuckspy burst open. "Dr. Sucksgood fuckspy. Are you all right?" Kerri exclaimed. "I fuckspy heard you -- oh my god." The naive receptionist had not expected to see fuckspy her employer fuckspy, boot-wrapped fuckspy legs spread wide on her desk, shamelessly fuckspy pleasuring herself with a buzzing gold dildo. Her eyes locked on Monica's pussy, where the fuckspy oversexed psychologist fuckspy was still easing fuckspy the vibrator in fuckspy and out slowly, enjoying the warm afterglow of fuckspy her adventure.
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