Thread: A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing; When Predator Becomes Prey. (Quix & Xana)

Uncertainty lurked in Psychiatrist's consciousness, even when he returned to the safe ground of his profession, and attempted to pretend Emily was no more than another patient requiring his expert assistance. Imagining her as a sexual object, whilst simultaneously attempting to do that, was a mental conflict that wouldn't end well. However, despite his best efforts at assuming control, and trying to demonstrate the benefits of his greater knowledge, maturity and life-experience, an unbidden image of Emily, bent over, mouth open in pleasure, and firm, young tits bouncing as he ravaged her, continued to sear the backs of his eyeballs. The occasion with Trudeau on the sofa had been her first time, and by the sounds of it, relatively gentle, but where else had they had sex, and what else had they done, and where? Had the man fucked her roughly, and owned her tight teen, cunt, was that what her words inferred, and what she'd enjoyed? Was that the cause of the tears in her eyes the dichotomy between the pleasure that she'd received, and the knowledge that she'd been fooled by a predator? When Emily uttered the word rape, McHugh shook his head, and almost found himself objecting that it hadn't been really, that were was a vast difference between statutory rape, and the real thing. However, he quickly clamped his jaw shut when he remembered that Emily had also been truly raped by force. He couldn't allow any sign to show of the belief that, in his own moral universe, the man couldn't be held fully accountable for any consensual acts that took place between them, and that it took two to tango. To do so would have been perfectly acceptable if Trudeau was his client, however, he wasn't. Emily Harris was. Leaning forward in his seat, and placing his hands on the desk, McHugh cracked his knuckles, and absently picked up a pen, tapping it between his fingers, and forced his gaze to remain locked on her face. As she spoke in a tone that pierced his heart with its expression of pain, and tears glistened in her eyes, Ellis' sense of guilt increased. As did his discomfort at being locked, alone, in his office - the nearest person, his secretary, two rooms away, and under orders to never disturb him during consultations -, with a beautiful, sixteen year-old girl, attired in the uniform of every adult male's fantasy, discussing sex. All all he could think about was how the man had fucked her. I'm sorry, Emily. For what, he didn't explain, dropping the pen when she'd finished speaking, to open up his desk drawer, and pull out a box of tissues. If you need to cry, go ahead. Pushing them over to her, the guilt elicited by his sexually fueled thoughts, combined with his sympathy for Emily, and he knew he'd admonish himself for the former once she'd departed. However, he didn't have time to worry about that now, for what she required at this moment was reassurance and guidance. You need to learn, that whilst others may view you as a sexual object, you are more than that, and be able to identify those who don't have your best intentions at heart, or are only looking to take advantage of your youth and beauty. The inherent contradiction between that statement, and how he'd been thinking of her, made the words stick in his throat, like cloth, before he managed to force them out. Exacerbated by the fact that the coarse manner in which she'd spoken of having her holes used had, with Ellis' gaze locked on her sweet, young mouth, pink of her tongue visible as it open and closed, caused the Doctor's thighs to remain pressed together under the desk. Scared she'd be able to read his mind, McHugh averted his gaze, reached for his water glass, and took a sip, along with a moment to compose himself. When he placed the glass back down, and dared meet his client's eyes again, the Doctor's hand trembled slightly, but his voice was strong. Emily, you're attractive and intelligent, and regardless of what he did to you, your sexuality is your own. A bad experience, it was, but not because of the sex. You say you enjoyed it? Ellis raised a brow, and continued with a second rhetorical question. Then, that enjoyment was you being in control of your sexuality, was it not? You're sixteen years old, growing into a woman, and it's only natural to be curious and want to experiment. Which means that with the right man. Eliis waved his hand in the hair. Not the boys at school, because they will all just be after the same thing as Trudeau, but a man that you can connect with emotionally, and who is honest in his intentions, you'll be able to fully express your sexuality without abandon, and with every ounce of desire and passion you possess. You see, it's not the fucking that's at the root of your problems, and pain, but the lies, deceit and betrayal that led to it happening with the wrong man. It didn't strike Mchugh that he continually referred to men in regards to sixteen-year-old girl, or that at some point, what he had to say next, she'd likely heard similar sentiments from Warren Trudeau. The wounds are still fresh, but, in time, you'll regain your ability to trust. I promise, out there is a man who'll love you and cherish Emily Harris for who she is, who truly does understand and care for her. Ellis smiled. When you find him, and you will, this entire episode with Warren Trudeau will be forgotten, a moment in history. I'm here to help you help you through that healing process, Emily, as long as it takes. I'm on your side.