From Chrystal Heights: Lauren sat back in her chair. The job interview had gone well. The rest was u

From Chrystal Heights: Lauren sat back in her chair. The job interview had gone well. The rest was up to the man interviewing her- Dr. Hank Pratt, hypnotherapist.  Dr. Pratt looked over the file in his hand one last time, then dropped it to the desk. He looked at Lauren. Lauren held her breath. “Your references check out,” he said finally. “You present well- attractive, attentive, efficient. You lack significant experience, however.” Lauren bit her lower lip. “Dr. Pratt,” she said, “I can understand your reluctance, but please understand that I’m a fast learner and I can thrive in any environment.” Dr. Pratt looked doubtful, but said, “Any environment?” Lauren felt a spark of hope. “Any environment.” The doctor still looked uncertain. “I work with a large, diverse number of patients, Lauren, and I use a variety of treatments. Not all these treatments are considered typical or mainstream, and some may appear to be downright odd. As my receptionist and general office assistant, you may be put in a position where you have to assist me without knowing the whole picture, where you have to follow orders without asking questions. Can you work in that type of setting?” Lauren considered the high salary Dr. Pratt was offering for the position. This one was easy. “Absolutely, Dr. Pratt,” she said. “I think you’ll find me to be the perfect candidate for the job.” The doctor’s well-trimmed beard bristled. “Don’t be so sure,” he said, standing. “I hold my employees to a high standard. Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” Lauren’s spirit soared. She stood as well. “Of course, sir,” she said. “What would you like me to do?” “Follow me,” said Dr. Pratt. Lauren followed the doctor out the door and down the hall. Dr. Pratt opened a door and entered a room. Lauren followed him inside. The room was set up as what appeared to be a mini-spa. A comfortable-looking couch lay against a wall, with a chair nearby that Lauren presumed was for Dr. Pratt. The walls were decorated with soothing pastels and tranquil pictures. Relaxing scents hovered in the air and soft music could be heard overhead. The room had a calming vibe to it. “This is the Safe Room,” said Dr. Pratt, lighting some incense. “It’s a safe space for my clientele. Most of my patients spend the bulk of their time here. Take off your shoes and lay on the couch, please.” Lauren removed her business flats and settled on the couch, which was extremely soft and comfortable. She then turned and lay prone, as much as her business attire allowed her. Dr. Pratt’s beard twitched. “I’m aware that you dressed in a manner you deemed ‘professional’, but as you can see, that traditional attire interferes with my processes. But that is a different conversation. Now, this is a new experience for you. You feel apprehension. Your body is physically comfortable, but your mind is buzzing along and interfering with anything physically positive you might be attaining.” Lauren shifted slightly, allowing her body to relax more. She listened as Dr. Pratt continued. “This is what my patients are going through,” said Pratt, “which is why I need someone who can understand what they’re going through, who can identify with them, who can emphasize with them. Put yourself in their place. Are you able to relax under these conditions? Can you actually feel your muscles easing?” Lauren sensed these were more than rhetorical questions. This was a test. This was Pratt’s way of testing her. Pleased with herself for recognizing what Pratt was doing, she closed her eyes and exhaled, allowing herself to appear more relaxed. “Remember, Lauren, my patients will be laying there in exactly the same way you are,” said Dr. Pratt, “laying there with their anxieties and their stress blocking their ability. Part of my assistant’s duty is to ensure my patients that they understand what they’re going through, they understand how anxious they are and that they can assure them everything is going to be fine.” Eyes closed, Lauren nodded to herself, realizing Dr. Pratt was making sense. She could see how that would be important. He was right. He was very right. Lauren took another breath and allowed herself to relax more. The incense was hanging a bit heavy in the air, but it was soft, filling her lungs. She realized Dr. Pratt was still talking, sounding almost faraway, but he wasn’t worried about interaction. He was just letting her know how important it was to understand the patient experience, to understand what they were going through. In fact, he was starting to drone on at this point, so Lauren just kept her eyes closed, stayed comfortable, relaxing on the couch. Just relaxing. It was nice. Very nice. And Dr. Pratt’s voice was so soothing. She could see why his practice was so successful. “And that’s why mindset and presentation are so important,” said Dr. Pratt. “Wouldn’t you agree?” “Huh?” said Lauren. “I mean, yes. Yes, sir. I understand. I mean, I agree.” Lauren bit her lower lip as Dr. Pratt gave her a look. She had zoned out and he knew it. Maybe she had even fallen asleep. She had blown her chance. Finally he said, “Perhaps you’ll do.” Lauren exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you, sir. Thank you! You won’t be sorry.” Dr. Pratt’s mustache twitched. “I hope not,” he said. “I warn you again, though. I’m not easy to work for and I hold my staff to high standards. I hope you don’t let me down. Be here tomorrow morning at 8am. Dress appropriately.  Show up for work without preconceived ideas about what your position should entail.” Lauren nodded. “I understand, sir.” “Good,” said Dr. Pratt. “Tomorrow, then.” ***** She was in! She got the job! SWEET! Lauren’s heart was hammering with anticipation. A real job! Good paying! With benefits! She wasn’t going to mess this up for anything. ***** At 7:50am, Lauren was in place. She had a bottle of water on the corner of her otherwise immaculate work space. She was ready. At 8am, Dr. Pratt walked past her desk. “Good morning, Lauren,” he said. He continued past her desk without stopping. “I take my coffee with one sugar and one cream. Make yours as you wish.” Lauren’s eyebrows rose. Seriously? She was a coffee-girl too? She sighed and rolled her eyes. Whatever. Twenty minutes later she knocked on Dr. Pratt’s office door. Hearing him answer, she opened the door and set a mug of coffee in front of him. Dr. Pratt looked up from his paperwork. “I assume the coffee is late because you did not start the machine until I mentioned it. As this is your first day, you are excused. In the future, that should be your first duty.” Lauren nodded. “Understood, sir.” “Excellent,” said Dr. Pratt. “The expresso machine is in there for your benefit. Please make sure it gets used appropriately.” “Thank you, sir,” said Lauren, “but it’s not an issue. I don’t drink coffee.” Dr. Pratt sighed and set down his pen. “Yes, I know,” he said. “I saw your water bottle on the desk. And that makes it time for a lesson.” Lauren blinked. “I beg your pardon?” “Water, Lauren?” said Dr. Pratt. “Water? My patients come to me to address issues of anxiety, of self-image, of self-worth. You are the first thing they see. Now let me ask you…what is it you think they want to see? Someone uptight, unrelaxed, trying to project some form of perfection? Do you truly think they’re going to identify with that?” “Uh,” said Lauren, “I’m not…I don’t…I mean-“ “No, Lauren,” said Dr. Pratt, holding up a hand. “They want to see someone who makes them relax. Someone who makes them feel good about themselves. Do you think some attractive woman with a water bottle in her hand, like she just stepped out of a gym, is going to make them relax? Or do you think somebody looking relaxed with a warm, frothy coffee is more likely to do the job?” Lauren opened her mouth, then closed it. He had a point. Dr. Pratt nodded. “You see exactly where I’m coming from,” he said. “Good. Perhaps there’s hope for you. I did warn you that you needed to show up without preconceived ideas. You’ve failed already. But you took correction well, enough that I’m prepared to give you another chance. I shouldn’t, considering you didn’t even make it through coffee without requiring a lecture, but we’ll see.” Lauren’s cheeks burned. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ll do better. I promise.” “Good,” said Dr. Pratt. “Go make yourself a latte. I should see a warm, friendly latte on your desk at all times. And as you sip your latte, remember the patients are watching you in approval.” Lauren turned for the door. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. “I won’t let you down.” “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Oh, and Lauren?” Lauren stopped and turned. “Yes, sir?” “I also said to dress appropriately for the job,” said Dr. Pratt. “I’m sure you consider that appropriate. But think about what I just said about coffee. And if I feel that way about coffee, how do you think I’m going to feel about your dark, dreary, uptight outfit?” Uh oh. Lauren opened her mouth, but Dr. Pratt held up his hand. “No need to reply,” he said. “Just think about it.” Lauren exited his office, cheeks burning. Less than an hour on the job and she had already gotten herself in trouble. She had clue how to make a latte, but a quick Google search told her what she needed to know. Of course, it didn’t warn her how bitter unsweetened coffee could taste, but after some trial and error, she finally worked it out. Several hours later, Dr. Pratt summoned her into his office. “I see you’ve learned how to make a latte,” he said. “Very good.” Lauren smiled, feeling a surge. “Thank you, sir.” “At least so far, anyway. Despite your lack of creativity.” Lauren’s hopes crashed. “I beg your pardon, sir?” “You seem to be a bright girl, Lauren,” said Dr. Pratt. “I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.” Lauren bit her lower lip in consternation. “Relax,” said Dr. Pratt. “Think of it as a mental exercise, not criticism.” “I…I will, sir,” said Lauren. “Look,” said Dr. Pratt, “just think back to how you felt in the Safe Room yesterday. Do you remember?” Lauren blinked. “I think so.” “Try to remember,” he said. Dr. Pratt said something then that Lauren didn’t quite hear, but it didn’t matter, because as she thought about the Safe Room, she felt herself relaxing, her muscles unclenching. And suddenly she understood what she needed to do to show how creative she could be. “I do remember,” she said. “I’ll do better, sir. I promise.” “Glad to hear it,” said Dr. Pratt. “Now go back to work, please.” By the end of the day, Lauren was an over-caffeinated mess from the numerous lattes she had consumed, but she had taught herself a new skill. Latte art. After checking online and practicing, she was getting the hang of making designs in the milk froth. It took a steady hand and a creative eye, but she was improving with each cup. “Look, Dr. Pratt!” she said. “A heart! I made a cute little heart!” Dr. Pratt smiled tolerantly. “Very well done,” he said, in his clinical manner. “Keep striving to improve yourself.” Lauren beamed. ***** The following morning, Lauren was ready. As soon as Dr. Pratt walked into his office, Lauren raced over to the break room and prepared his coffee. She brought it straight to his office. Dr. Pratt accepted the mug without a word. Then he took a sip. He nodded, although he seemed unhappy. Lauren bit her lower lip. “Is, um, is it okay, sir? Did I make it right?” Dr. Pratt looked up at her. “Yes, Lauren. It’s fine.” “Are you sure, sir?” she said. “You just seemed…well, disappointed.” Dr. Pratt sighed. “It’s not the coffee, Lauren. I’m just not sure you understand the expectations that go with your position.” Lauren blinked. “I…I don’t understand, sir.” “Your outfit, Lauren,” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about.” “My clothes? But I thought-“ “That’s the problem, Lauren,” he said. “You thought. But you didn’t need to think. I told you yesterday what I expected and you decided you knew better than I did as to what I meant.” “You did?” said Lauren. “B-But I don’t remember you-“ “When I said I expected you to be more creative with your clothing than your coffee?” “Oh!” said Lauren. “I didn’t realize-…” “A long black skirt?” said Dr. Pratt. “A boring white blouse? Yes, it’s quite easy to see you didn’t realize what I was talking about. You think that’s what I want my patients to see? I want them to see bright, cheerful, attractive. Good vibes. Relaxing vibes. Your outfit is radiating expectations, intensity, deadlines. Pressure. You’re pushing expectations upon my patients with your clothing selection, Lauren. And I can’t have that. I expect to see a much more relaxed fashion selection tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?” Lauren nodded, too distraught to answer. Lauren was a mess for the rest of the morning. Even the cute little kitty face she made in her latte foam failed to cheer her up. Then Dr. Pratt called her into his office. “I can see you’re down, Lauren,” he said, “and I can’t have that in my front office. So I’m going to have you meditate for a few minutes, okay?” Lauren nodded. She heard Dr. Pratt say something, but it wasn’t really important, because she was already working on remembering the Safe Room. It was strange that she kept using that as a point of relaxation for her, but it was working, so she just wasn’t going to worry about it. Suddenly she shifted, startled, realizing she had zoned out. “Omigod,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Pratt! I didn’t mean to zone out like that!” Dr. Pratt chuckled. “Relax, Lauren,” he said. “I’m actually pleased that you’re learning to self-focus like that.” She had pleased Dr. Pratt! Lauren beamed! ***** By the end of the week, Lauren was sure she had nailed it. She had shortened her skirts to well above her knees, her necklines had dropped considerably and her latte art was getting cuter and cuter. And she was getting her meditation down pat as well. Every morning Dr. Pratt brought her into his office and helped her learn to relax. But then, on Friday afternoon, Dr. Pratt called her into his office. And she knew…she just knew…that it hadn’t been enough. Dr. Pratt sighed. “I had high hopes for you, Lauren,” he said, “but you just seem determined to stay locked inside the typical four walls of your expectations, rather than mine.” Lauren could feel the tears welling up. Then she had an idea. She stood and walked around the desk. Then she dropped to her knees. Her fingers slid over Dr. Pratt’s thighs, gripped his zipper, pulled it down. Dr. Pratt remained silent as her thin fingers slid into his zipper hole, pulled out his thick cock. She slid a tentative tongue along the underside, allowed herself to breathe in his masculine scent. “Please, Dr. Pratt,” she said, her breath warm on his hardening shaft. “Please give me one more chance.” Then she took his dick into her mouth. It felt so thrillingly strange, yet oddly normal, for her to be on her knees with his dick in her mouth. She was a professional, but somehow being on her knees, stroking her warm, wet mouth over Dr. Pratt’s cock, felt so natural. It was…hot. Just crazy hot. Her lips were wrapped tightly around his shaft, her head bobbing as slid his cock back and forth in her mouth. His rigid dick twitched and suddenly she felt her lips firm around the base of his cock and stay there, like they were locked in place. And then his cock throbbed as Dr. Pratt grunted and exploded in her mouth. Lauren could feel her belly filling as she helplessly swallowed the hot flow. And then her eyes widened as her belly muscles jumped and then she squealed around Dr. Pratt’s cock as she suddenly realized his orgasm had somehow triggered hers. Unable to stop working Dr. Pratt’s still throbbing rod, she could only shudder as heat and intensity turned her into a helpless puddle. Her orgasm eventually stopped and, realizing Dr. Pratt’s dick was still in her mouth, she hastily slid her numb mouth off his cock and tucked him back in his pants. She closed his zipper. Dr. Pratt exhaled, then shifted. After a pause, he finally said, “All right, Lauren. One more chance. But I need to see improvement.” Lauren felt a surge of hope. He was giving her another chance! Blushing, she got to her feet. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “Thank you so much! I promise you won’t regret it!” Dr. Pratt grunted, then looked down at his paperwork. She had been dismissed. Gathering the shreds of her dignity, a hand on her full belly, Lauren tip-toed out of the office. ***** When Dr. Pratt walked past her Monday morning, Lauren felt a surge of satisfaction. She was wearing a hot pink plaid pleated schoolgirl mini-skirt with white panties underneath. A white blouse that tied between her breasts, leaving her belly bare. 3” black high heels. And pink elastics separated her hair into pigtails. Dr. Pratt didn’t say anything. He never did. But when he reached her desk, he paused for a moment, looked her up and down…and he nodded! He had nodded! He had NODDED! SCORE! Lauren was on a cloud for the rest of the morning. She hummed as she made her coffee. By 9am, she buzzing so hard on caffeine that she giggled at anything anybody said to her. At least, she assumed it was the caffeine. Everything seemed so cute and funny! Okay, so maybe the caffeine was making her a little forgetful. Every time she dropped something, she kept forgetting she was in a short skirt and she’d just bend over from the waist to pick it up. She blushed, remembering how many times she had accidentally flashed her panties to the entire waiting room. But still, Dr. Pratt’s reaction had made it clear she was doing good. So she made sure each day she wore something that was more appropriate for a nightclub than for a professional setting. Her stretchy super-short black dress seemed to work. So did her spandex and crop-top day. And he even seemed to like her Daisy Dukes and tube top day. But then on Friday, when he walked by her with no reaction, her heart started pounding. She knew she had messed up. Her tight jeans and bikini top outfit weren’t cutting it. Lauren squirmed nervously for the rest of the morning. She knew she’d be summoned to the office soon. And then, sure enough, Dr. Pratt called her to the office. Oh, gawd! She was going to get fired again! Then she had an idea. She grabbed her purse and fished around until she found a tube of bright red lipstick. She quickly layered her lips with the intense color. Then she dropped the tube back into her purse and made her way to the office. She walked into the office. Dr. Pratt looked up as entered. Instead of stopping at the chair, however, she circled around his desk and dropped to her knees between his legs. Unzipping his pants, she reached in and once again pulled out his cock. She then wrapped her red lips around his dick and gave Dr. Pratt an enthusiastic blowjob. It was crazy, but even knowing she was possibly about to lose her job, the feeling of her red lips sliding up and down a cockshaft, the weight of a dick in her mouth, the knowledge that those heavy balls her red lips were pressing against were about to blast a hot, heavy load into her throat whether she liked it or not were all combining together, becoming a swirl of heat and need inside her belly. And when Dr. Pratt finally grunted and his rigid cock starting shooting a thick, salty stream down her throat and into her belly, Lauren began squealing as she found herself coming helplessly, the dick in her mouth causing her to become a wet, wriggling, orgasming mess. She heard Dr. Pratt say something, as if from faraway, and she felt herself spiraling into pleasurable darkness. A few minutes later, Lauren’s eyes fluttered open. Dr. Pratt’s hand was on her hair. His dick was still in her mouth. Blinking, she realized she must have come so hard that she had passed out. She slid her mouth off his cock and tucked him back inside his pants. She zipped him up. Then she circled around the desk and sat down, looking at the ground, her cheeks bright red. “Very well,” said Dr. Pratt. “You have convinced me to give you another chance. But I must say I am more confident this time in your ability to change what must be changed.” Lauren looked up. “You…you are…?” Dr. Pratt nodded. “Yes,” he said. “For one thing, you appear to have intuited what I was going to identify as a shortcoming. Your lack of cosmetics.” “My lack of…oh!” said Lauren. “You mean…my lipstick?” Dr. Pratt nodded. “I do indeed,” he said. “When you speak with the patients, they are focused on your mouth, are they not?” “Well…yes…” “That being the case,” said Dr. Pratt, “don’t you think that’s an area that should beautified?” Lauren blinked. “Well..yes, of course.” “Exactly,” said Dr. Pratt. “Your red lipstick will serve, Lauren. And mascara as well. Study some eye makeup tutorials on YouTube. Perhaps some cat eyes, hmm?” Lauren nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I will, sir.” Dr. Pratt leaned back in his chair. “And there’s one more area I need you to focus on, Lauren,” he said. “In fact, it’s the primary reason I brought you in her today.” Lauren’s heart started pounding. “Yes, sir?” Dr. Pratt said, “What I need from you, Lauren, is to stop talking down to my patients.” Lauren blinked. “I’m sorry, sir…I don’t understand.” “My patients already have self-esteem issues, Lauren,” said the doctor. “How do you think they feel when you start talking to them with your ‘professional’ vocabulary?” Lauren bit her lower lip. “You mean my words are too, um, high level…?” Dr. Pratt directed a stern look at her. “That’s exactly what I mean, Lauren. I expect you to use this weekend to study modern slang and colloquialisms. Watch some high school movies. Watch YouTube. Whatever you need to. But when you come in Monday, I don’t want my patients to feel they need a thesaurus to understand what my receptionist is saying. Do I make myself clear?” Lauren nodded. ***** Dr. Pratt walked in Monday morning. He stopped by Lauren’s desk as he did so. “Good morning, Lauren,” he said. Lauren looked up at Dr. Pratt and squealed a greeting. “Oh, hiya, Dr. Pratt! I soooo didn’t realize you were there! I’m totally sorry!” Dr. Pratt offered a rare smile. “That’s quite all right, Lauren. I must say it appears so far that you’ve done a fine job adjusting your vocabulary.” Lauren giggled. “Thank you so much, Dr. Pratt! I watched all those movies and it worked just like you said! I mean, some of them seemed kinda silly and stuff, but I was just like whatevs and I watched them anyway, you know?” Dr. Pratt smiled again and patted Lauren on the head. Then he went to his office. Lauren watched him go with a giggle, her tongue sliding unconsciously over her red lips. It was odd, but after watching those movies, not only did Lauren not have any trouble adjusting her vocabulary and speech patterns to mirror what she heard, it felt like her brain was locking it in. She was speaking like a college bimbo even when she wasn’t at work. It just meant she was good at picking things up, right? She nodded to herself. Yes, that was it. It was just good practice. ***** It was Friday, so Lauren knew what that meant. And sure enough, there it was. Dr. Pratt called her into the office. Giggling, Lauren stood and walked toward his office as quickly as her 4” stiletto high heels allowed her too. Her right stretchy skirt barely reached the bottom of her ass and her breasts bounced freely in her tube top. Entering the office, she gave Dr. Pratt a contrite look. “Ummm…did I do bad?” Dr. Pratt stood and nodded. “Yes, Lauri, you did.” Lauren squealed. “Oh, no! I’m, like, soooooo sorry! You have to punish me, doctor.” Dr. Pratt nodded. “Yes, Lauri. I agree.” Lauren walked forward and bent over the desk, wondering briefly why it felt so natural to be bent over, why it felt so natural to feel Dr. Pratt pulling the hem of her skirt up over her hips. She wondered why she lubricated so easily around the doctor, why her belly muscles twitched and jumped in heated need around him. And then his thick cock slid inside her tight pussy and suddenly she wasn’t thinking about anything. She could only react as she squealed and came on his cock again and again. -- source link

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