Surrender To A Sex Therapist
Part 1 of the Surrender series
About: Charlotte Hanson loves her new job as secretary to a prominent sex
therapist, Dmitri Nichvalodov, who also happens to come from old money.
This Russian billionaire isn't hard on the eyes either, and he prefers
to live a simple life doing a job he loves. At least, that's what
Charlotte thinks, until he proposes she become his sex mistress. Now the
contract is on the table, and the money offered would help care for her
ailing father. Will she sign the papers and surrender?
series contains consensual BDSM role playing between adults over 18
years of age. This story contains explicit sex acts, and is intended for
an audience 18 years of age or older.
Excerpt: I enjoyed
my new job so much it was almost too good to be true. An old friend of
Dad's from the precinct, Sherri Taylor, had landed me the interview with
Dmitri Nichvalodov, and I'd become the secretary of this prominent sex
therapist three weeks ago. At first I'd had reservation about working
for him. Not that I was a prude, but I knew little about sex--I'd only
been with two men in my life, and one was a disappointing fumbler at
best--plus I'd heard Dmitri was a stunner. Being introverted and a
social kumquat, my reservations stemmed from the fact there was a good
chance I'd stumble over my words, or tip over a coffee table, and make a
complete ass of myself. I tended to do just that when I was nervous or
intimidated by the subject or persons involved.
salary promised was generous, and it would cover Dad's mounting medical
bills. Dad came first, so I swallowed my fear and accepted the position.
Dmitri said, his green eyes meeting mine, making my stomach do a
flutter I tried to ignore. "Would you join me in my office when you're
finished up there? I'd like to ask you something."
certainly, Mr. Nichvalodov." I adjusted my glasses, thankful they
slipped down my nose at that moment, because it gave me a chance to
break away from his penetrating gaze.
"It's Dmitri to you." I
watched his broad shoulders, clad in a pinstriped suit, disappear behind
the door. His long hair gleamed as the sun caught it just before he
vanished. He wore his straight, black mane in a braid that fell to the
middle of his back. How a psychiatrist managed to look like a male
stripper was beyond me. Maybe it had something to do with being a sex
therapist. I scolded myself for picturing him out of that suit for the
second time today.
Dmitri also came from money, a lot of it, and
his family held a history of investing in entrepreneurial ventures that
had, for the most part, paid off well. He'd told me, in some of our
frequent office conversation, that there had been some risky investments
in the early days, and his great-great grandfather lost his shirt a
couple times over a hunch that went sour.
However, these days the
family had enough wealth to take a million or more dollar loss and not
even feel it. They invested a great deal in green energy technology.
Dmitri told me the only thing holding green energy back, in his educated
opinion, was the lack of funding for researching and developing these
"Why work as a sex therapist then?" I'd said one day,
and when he turned those penetrating green eyes on me, I'd added, "If
you don't mind me asking."
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