The Adventures of Dr. Katrina Duras: Episode II - Her True Nature

Author's note: Katrina is just starting her career. The significance of her psychiatric training and practice will grow in subsequent episodes. Episode I, although interesting (of course I would say that), is not necessary to enjoy this story. Episode II stands alone, just fine. I'm new at this, so if you have any writing advice/suggestions, I would welcome an email with specifics.

The Adventures of Dr Katrina Duras: Episode II – Her True Nature

Continued …

Picking up from The Adventures of Dr Katrina Duras – Episode I: Spring Break.

Jane had finally moved out to the Northern California to live with Katrina, her college roommate. She had vowed to live with Katrina, openly as gay lovers, and not hide their relationship any more. Katrina has recently finished medical school and was now a practicing intern at the University's Psychiatric clinic.

Chapter One

It has been such a release to get out of the valley where Jane and I have to be so discreet, and come up to city where we can be more demonstrative lovers. There is this women's bar we've been visiting, nondescript from the outside and not much better inside. You could call it a dive I suppose. It looked like a saloon more than anything else. Had it had those sawed-off swinging doors, I would have half expected the Marshall to come busting through. Instead a double deadbolt combined with an industrial strength security latch on the substantial metal door kept the world at bay.

This was a beer drinking crowd. The wine by the glass they served up … well, you wouldn't want it. The focal piece in the room was a long old fashioned polished wood bar, stools in front as is typical, and backed by a huge mirror with wooden pegs overhead to hold the mugs. Beer bottles of every imaginable type lined the base of the mirror. Wooden tables and chairs strewn all over the main floor filled out the rest of the room. The lighting was bleak, but that was really for the best. I could look past the décor however. I chose this place so I could be with Jane and kind of show her off, show everyone what a beautiful lover I have. It also gave me the opportunity to practice being dominant in a bigger setting than the confines of our apartment.

It was great fun to dress Jane up and take her out. Usually I put her in a short tight skirt, flimsy little see-thru blouse, nicely unbuttoned, no bra of course, not for her little titties, and stockings and heels. Get the picture? Her petite body, long fine blond hair and pretty face were perfect for dress-up. She is so girlie and such a contrast to me with my dark hair, olive skin, full breasts, abundant curves, and the detached aloof demeanor that I am so trying to perfect that typifies my stuffy profession. I would usually wear a fashionably tailored suit, with a skirt cut just above the knees. I wanted to make a point of our relative status. When we would arrive I would sit her down on a bar stool, stand next to her, pour beer down her throat all night straight from a long neck bottle, lean over and kiss and fondle her as much as I pleased.

Whenever I went to the little girls' room, I would invariably come back to find someone trying to hit on her. At least that's the way I saw it. Maybe they were just trying to be friendly and make her feel welcome. But in my mind, the bar was full of lesbians and Jane was a real prize. I exulted in the act of returning to claim her as mine. I would use various strategies. I would walk over and casually squeeze her ass, or I would wrap my arm around her waist and fondle her little titties. Sometimes I would walk up, use both hands to tilt her head back and start french-kissing her. I was such a show-off. Sometimes I would scowl at the lecherous woman that was after my girl, say something rude or whatever. I wasn't making too many friends there, but I was having some big-time fun, misdirected as it was.

There was this tall striking woman, Karen, who sometimes tended bar when we were there. I had noticed her again and again … hmmm, a real beauty with such prominent features and that auburn hair tied in a loose ponytail that gently rested between her shoulder blades. I so much wanted to touch that gorgeous hair of hers. Really, there were times when I could not keep my eyes off her, stealing glances all night, trying to avoid her eyes.

The times she did catch me staring, the bravado would instantly drain from my body. She made me feel weak and small and soft. It's like she could see right through the facade and suddenly I was a little girl again … as if Karen had discovered, with a single look, what I was all about. I would try to shake it off but nevertheless it was so disconcerting that the best I could do seemed to be to avoid her gaze altogether. How can this be? I mean, jeez, she's a barmaid for crying out loud … and I'm a doctor, incredibly well educated, cultured, accomplished, well traveled, blah, blah, blah. How can I be so easily intimidated by a barmaid?

In my most secret thoughts I found myself wondering what it would be like to worship her superb body. But that was so confusing to me, as I was certain I was her equal, if not more. After all, I was holding my own in a very demanding and respected profession, and here she was in this funky bar. And being the dominant one in my relationship with Jane … well I just couldn't figure it out, but I worked hard to suppress these feelings so I could play my little game with Jane and really enjoy myself while here.

One night, I guess I finally went too far, or the women there were just plain tired of my nonsense. I had just insulted a regular and embarrassed Jane badly. Karen, having witnessing this latest episode of my little act, stomped over, grabbed both my shoulders from behind, spun me around and slapped me ... hard! Hard enough to knock me down if the bar hadn't been behind me. I stumbled back, shaken, stunned and speechless.

"Listen you dumb arrogant bitch! You come in with this beautiful sensitive girl, strutting around like you own her or something, trying to entice us. This is a women's bar and you don't seem to know diddly-squat about women. You probably know less about women than most men, and that really is pathetic! Where are you from anyway? Do you only come here to play with this little girl and show your ass?"

As Karen shouted me down, some of the others grabbed me, and on her signal, started stripping me. I was literally in shock. Had they planned this? Three of them worked me over, fast and furious. My beautiful jacket lay crumbled on the floor, getting stomped on in the process, a clear imprint from a dirty vibram sole across the back. My fine blouse ripped off, buttons flying, and my skirt tossed away like a rag. Strange time for my life to flash before my eyes, but looking down at my jacket, I saw myself standing in front of the mirror that day at Nordstrom's, when I had bought that suit for my graduation, admiring the way it made me look all grownup and professional.

"Let's see, maybe you are a man. That would give you a good excuse for how badly you've been treating this child. And it would explain that laughable swagger you've been strutting around here with. Ladies, I think we should investigate."

This was met with hoots and derisive comments, pandemonium all around. Moving quickly and decisively Karen grabbed a waiter's corkscrew from the bar, opened the blade and cut the band between my bra cups … my favorite frilly little bra that I reserved for 'date' nights. My heavy tits just fell out … much cheering and catcalls.

"Hmmm, so good, so far." Karen tossed the knife back on the bar and started to fondle my tits like they were there for her entertainment. "Nice, very nice."

I'm thinking, 'Gee, so glad you like them,' but really I didn't give a fuck what she thought, I just wanted to get the hell away from her and the rest of these loonies. I twisted and struggled with every ounce of my strength, but by then lots of hands had managed to find me.

"Hey, she's been showing her ass around here for weeks, maybe she wants to show us more. Who's up for a closer look?" As if on cue, a woman behind me pulled my little satin panties down around my ankles. A laugh riot broke out. And of course, the bitch could not resist another opportunity for a comment, so she peeks around my back and squeezes my ass. "Hmmmm, I like!"

Just as she was about to start the next phase of this ridiculous diatribe, she grabs my shoulder and steps in close, so no one could see what she was doing, then starts rubbing her other hand all over my pussy. If she's trying to make me sweat and squirm, it is definitely working. She then begins to address the crowd. "Well ladies, I was wrong, it is a woman … one who doesn't know how to treat a girl properly. Should we teach her something about being a woman?" The whole bar erupted with a unison "Yea!" This really was starting to feel like a fucking mob.

Panicky and winded from the struggle and still unable to find my voice, they strapped me down over the hard wooden seat of a bar stool, quickly tying my hands to the front legs and my feet to the back, leaving me helpless and totally exposed, my tits hanging out in front. Some kind of strap was slipped through the bottom of the stool, around my back, then pulled tight. And I'm thinking, was that really necessary? This is like a belt and suspenders thing. I already wasn't going anywhere tied to the legs of that stool. Again, strange time for strange thoughts. One more tug and I grunted as the breath was forced out of me. Maybe that was the point.

Fighting to clear my head, I finally gathered my wits and screamed "Stop this immediately! Let me go! I'm not some little slut. I'm not one of you bitches!!! (duh, real smart Katrina … call them a bunch of bitches). I'm a professional. I'm a doctor for chrissakes! You can not do this to me! I'll have you arres…." Smack! "Owww!"

Karen started giving orders. "Somebody throw me her wallet." Some mean looking bitch swiped her arm across the bar sending glasses flying, spilling and breaking, then dumped my purse on top of that wet mess, quickly ransacking it. Karen rifled through my wallet. "Hmmmm. Dr. Katrina Duras, just as you say. What's this?" as she pulled out a business card, "a psychiatrist? You've got to be joking. You sick demented bitch! You're a shrink? … and you treat this precious girl like this? You are going to pay for this right now!"

Karen crouched down and got up close and in my face. I whispered, desperately hoping Jane couldn't hear. "Please don't do this in front of my Jane," I begged. "Pleeeze! She can't see me like this. She can't see me weak. I'll do anything you say. Please have some pity on me." Not very damned likely.

Karen's next move totally shocked me. She grabbed a fist full of hair, pulled my head back until my face was level with hers, then kissed me straight on the mouth, playing with me with her insistent probing tongue, while slowly tweaking my nipples. It completely took by breath away and I could feel my heart start to pump wildly. She was really getting to me. Then she whispered, her fingers still teasing, "you're going to beg me for it in front of this lovely girl of yours. I'm going to make you my bitch and show her that you are nothing special, nothing like the upper class princess you pretend to be. You don't deserve someone like her. I'm going to break you in front of all these women and your sweet girl."

Karen stood, and taking a wide stance, began to remove her belt. Then she started the show. "OK girls, get in line and let's whip this haughty bitch's ass," her voice dripping with disdain. She tossed the belt over my head to one of the women behind me. "Everybody gets ten strokes, and …uh … oh yea, let's try to avoid the buckle this first time out."

After only the first whack I knew I was in trouble, big trouble. It hurt way too much for me to survive an ass whipping from all these fucking angry dykes. Every single hit from that belt rattled my brain as the two halves met with a wicked pop. After the second bitch finished, or maybe it was the third, I was becoming an incoherent ranting mess. "Please stop this," I begged. "I'm sorry! I'll do anything you want. I'll give you money, whatever you want. I have credit cards. Take my car … but please let us go! We'll never come back. You'll never have to see …"

Karen was definitely not in the mood for all that. "Save it! We're not criminals. We're not interested in your money. You need to be shown what it means to be a real woman." She rammed what must have been a dildo gag in my mouth, and had a helper strap it down in the back. "Here, suck on this princess! I bet you've had more cocks in that bitch-mouth of yours than pussies."

Well … uh … two cocks and one pussy (I refuse to count that night at my parents' house!), so I guess she was right. But I'm not a slut, and she's implying that I'm a slut and a straight slut at that … so insulting.

"Now why don't you show everyone here how you'd really rather be sucking cocks dear doctor lady."

I was panicking and pulling against the single leather strap securing me to the stool. I was pushing as hard as I could with whatever traction I could get with my toes, but one of those dykes was holding the stool down. Good thing as I would have landed on my head and hurt myself far worse. But no matter what they did to me, I vowed to never give in. I would never under any circumstances beg for it.

I looked over and saw that Jane was in a fright. She had turned pale, was hardly breathing, and looked beside herself with worry. A strong extraordinary woman held her elbows pinned back, very effectively immobilizing her.

Karen waved everyone off and came around to nuzzle the side of my face that Jane couldn't see. Everyone got real quiet and everything slowed way down. She softly kissed the side of my face and hair, teasing my ear and neck with her lips, while ever so gently brushing across the tips of my nipples. Her delicate touch and breath sent shivers straight down to my pussy. It was so damned obvious the effect she was having on me, as I struggled and really started to sweat. She whispered so no one else could hear, "I told you that you are going to want it lover girl." What!?! What's she calling me 'lover' for? You don't tie and whip and humiliate a lover.

Karen slowly, achingly worked me over like that, one hand playing with my tits (could my nipples possibly get any harder!), the other rubbing my ass. I'm sure it only took seconds before I started to whimper and squirm. At this point those lesbian bitches pulled the gag off so they wouldn't miss a sound. It felt like my heart was going to explode. God, is she ever going to get on with it and slip her hand between my legs, or is she going to torture me to death?

"Pleeaze," I begged, so quickly forgetting that vow.

"Please what sweetheart? Hey everybody, I think the little slut wants something," she teased.

It was humiliating enough to be whipped like a bitch that got caught acting up. That was out of my control. Jane would understand that I could not possibly over-power them all, wouldn't she? That shouldn't cause me to lose too much authority over her. But I prayed this evil woman wouldn't push all the right buttons and cause me to lose it here. I can't let Jane see that side of me that I've always struggled to suppress. I won't accept my mother's version of the women in our family. I'm not submissive like her. I'm not! I won't be! I'm a doctor, a modern professional woman, not a housewife like her. If Karen would only stop rubbing my inner thighs, dammit! As her fingers slipped into my already sopping hole, I knew I was lost.