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Dr.Gupta seems to be excellent in the profession. Savita wanted to make a booking to have a session with him even though she was too shy to share her problem. But she knew she needed it badly.Savita walked into the office of Dr.Gupta, still confused whether she should open up about her problem. At Dr. Gupta’s office, Gopal handled the reception and bookings. He was rather happy since all the reservations for that day were canceled.Dr.Gupta was out for some personal reason. He had the whole office for himself. Gopal was always fascinated by the psychology profession. He used to sit on the doctor’s chair and imagine himself to be the doctor.He also enjoyed taking out his rod from his pants and jerking while seated on the doctor’s chair. Gopal was in such a session of stroking himself when Savita appeared at the front desk. Adjusting his clothes, he rushed towards her to inform her that the doctor was out of the station.“Dr. Gupta?” Savita asked. Savita had never met Dr. Gupta, nor did. "Aunt Marti pulled both of my arms over my head and looped the loose end of the cloth around one of the bars on the headboard. She then wrapped my other wrist with the free end of the cloth. Both of my hands were now secured over my head. I pulled on the cloth but my hands would not slip through the restraints and the cloth did not tear. I was really getting nervous now.Alice pulled two more strips of cloth out of Alice's suitcase. She handed one to Alice. Each of them took one of my ankles and secured my feet to the footboard with Velcro straps. My stomach was in knots.Aunt Marti held one of her breasts as she leaned over my head to offer me a nipple. I raised my head enough to suck the nipple into my mouth. Alice took my cock into her mouth. The stimulation of the blowjob and the comfort offered by Aunt Marti's breast calmed my fears.Aunt Marti pulled her breast away from my mouth. She pulled the hood over my head and tightened the Velcro closing at the neck. She ran her tongue down.
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I heard the slow, elegant sound of a string quartet – so hauntingly similar to the sounds aboard the IFS Zephyr before her fiery death that it gave me goose pimples. I quickly reloaded my revolver, then stepped up to the wall nearest the sound. Creeping to the corner, I peeked about and saw that a narrow mine corridor led to a ruddy glow – the bright white light of gas lanterns, as well as a tinkling sound of cutlery, china, and fine conversation. I crept forward, ready for anything, then sprang around the last corner.I found myself standing, as if transposed by some kind of conveyance magicks, in the ball room of a great whopping manor house. The floor was wood tiles and the large glass windows looked out on Shrouded Hills – though several of the buildings I could see showed a stark difference. The temple, for instance, had a stone back and no smoking chimney, and the bank had no second story. The ballroom itself was alight with gas lamps and candles, providing a bright illumination.

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