Damage beyond repair.

Sambhavna

2020

The Devil was a jackass. I rolled my eyes as I glanced at the screen of my laptop-even the tone in the stupid text was demanding.

The Devil: Strip out of those clothes.

He had turned his camera off while I was on full display for him. I did as I was told. I had insisted on hearing his voice but he declined outrageously and it was starting to irk me. My laptop chimed again and I glanced at the screen.

The Devil: Tell me how you taste. Is it as sweet as it seems?

I gaped at the screen with horror. "You want me to-" I trailed off as the device chimed again and I read the incoming text.

The Devil: Touch yourself. I've paid enough, haven't I?

"Jackass," I muttered and then cleared my throat, hoping that he hadn't heard me but he had. I placed the laptop near the foot of the bed and shifted in my place. I had no idea where to begin so I waited for the next set of instructions.

The Devil: Spread your legs and bend over the bed.

I wasted no time and got down to business. It felt weird and hilarious all at the same time. I squirmed under my breath as my knees sank in the mattress.

The Devil: Do you have a vibrator?

"No," I answered slowly and felt my cheeks flushed. I'd admit it did turn me on. The anonymity of the person on the other end of the line combined with the fact that he was indeed watching me carefully, spurred me intensely. I bit on my lip and leaned closer to the laptop to check the notification. I was well aware that he had a nice view of my cleavage and that didn't bother me.

The Devil: Tell me how wet you are. How many times can you cum?

My throat instantly dried and I gulped. "Uh, I'm getting there." I closed my eyes and began to touch myself delicately. "And um, I don't know the answer to that," I mumbled lowly and stroked my clit lightly. There was no fire-no intensity in whatever I was supposed to feel. It then dawned on me that I had to fake it if I had to make a show out of it.

The Devil: I want you to look at the camera when you come. Tell me how it feels.

I stared right at the camera, realizing there was no point of return. "It feels okay, you know? It'd been better if you were here." I bit on my lip to stifle a chuckle. I was finally getting it. I had to make him as desperate as he intended to make me. There was no text for a long time and I assumed he was jerking off as well. Oddly, I thought it was sexy.

Quite frankly, I wanted a release and knowing that I was affecting him stimulated me enough to reach the brink.

The Devil: Oh baby, I'm down for that if you are.

The chuckle that broke free from my lips was instantaneous. "It would be so good if I could ride your face right now." I winked at the camera and the image of him under me made me hot.

The Devil: Shit. You're good. You know what you are doing.

That I was-I was making him lose his mind and that was the greatest aphrodisiac. My fingers were restless in between my legs and a low moan slipped from my chest.

The Devil: Stick a finger in. Tell me how deep you like it.

"What's the point? It's not like you're sticking it in." I bit my lip to stifle my chuckle but it escaped anyway. I did what I was told anyway and gasped at the invasion. I was glad that he didn't have access to my intimate parts directly. My cheeks burned as I failed to hide my pleasure.

The Devil: Good girl. ;)

Damn it. I was enjoying it. How weird was that?

The Devil: Oh did I mention? You can't cum unless I ask you to. Enjoy.

What? He was intending on torturing me. "How would you know? You aren't even here." I groaned lowly and slowed down. The languidness was turning into a slow burn.

The Devil: Ah, I'd know. Now I want you to stop.

"Wh-What?" I was gaping at the screen and then at the camera. That son of a bitch! Grudgingly, I drew my hand away and sighed. I didn't like that at all.

The Devil: Lick your fingers and place a pillow under yourself. I want the full view when you cum.

It took a few minutes to register what he wanted to achieve out of that. I wasn't confident anymore, I was anxious. I licked the alkaline off my fingers and followed the rest of his instructions. I licked and moaned to make a point because I knew he was watching. I wasn't dealing with an old man-it was a male who enjoyed control in bed.

The Devil: Damn baby, so fucking sexy. I love that. Keep licking...

I reveled in the feminine triumph and teased him a little more. "Is that all you have got?" I asked challengingly and arched my brow. I was glad about the mask on my face; it was my insurance. Nobody knew the person behind the mask and that was comforting.

The Devil: Ride that fucking pillow. I want you to imagine crawling up on me and riding my face while I eat you. I'll lick you clean and suck you until you beg me to stop.

I didn't have to fake my orgasm. It was intense and hard enough to leave me lax on my bed. I didn't give that man enough credit but I was starting to realize why his profile was named as 'The Devil'.

*

Mayank

2020

I averted my gaze on Ranveer seated on the couch in my office room, laid back and apparently stoned-I assumed that was his preferred poker face but I wasn't willing to draw conclusions without an insight. I wondered if he was aware of the people around him. My gaze lingered long enough for him to catch his attention. He had been silent most of the session.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

I held myself back from rolling my eyes. "Is there something you'd like to share?" I repeated my question and he hooded his eyes as he looked at me. "Anything. There aren't any rules here."

"If that's the case, I'd rather sleep for another fifteen," he muttered and I couldn't help myself but chuckle. Ranveer however, didn't find that remotely funny.

"Except that," I told him and opened a tab on my tablet. "Come on, do you want to spend the rest of the fifteen minutes while sleeping on that couch?"

He frowned at the space beside him on the couch. "Why? What's wrong with the couch?"

"Alright, okay." I sipped some water from the glass and peered at him. "This is a therapy session. Well, not therapy per se but this is for your benefit. This is a safe space where you can talk your heart out without the fear of being judged."

"People have fear of being judged?" he asked me incredulously and I stared at him. "Hey, your words are foreign to me, man. What 'benefit' and why would I want therapy or whatever the fuck this is?" I remained silent as he went on, "The way I see it; this is another royal waste of my fucking time."

"Don't you have anything you'd like to talk about?"

Then he was rolling his eyes. "Sure."

"Alright then," I encouraged him. "How was your day? How's life?"

"Mundane," he drawled and I noted that. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I was expecting more parties, women, drugs, and college."

"Like I said, fucking mundane," he muttered dismissively and I leaned back to my chair. He was a tough kid but I was patient.

"Is there a reason you feel that way about your life?"

"Don't you?" he shot back and I rubbed my temple slowly.

"No," I said and noted on my tab. "I don't feel that way about my life."

"Clearly, you haven't lived enough." His voice was low but he was more than confident. It gave me the impression that he was inexorable in a lot of ways. "And this guy is the therapist." He chuckled mockingly and bowed his head down.

"Tell me about your girlfriend," I demanded and changed the subject before I glanced at him and he wasn't laughing anymore.

"Don't have one," he said and shrugged.

I noted that and leaned closer to the table. "Why's that? Don't want to be in love?"

He sighed and deliberated silently as he looked away. "Tell me something, have you been married?"

I was caught off guard by his abrupt question. "This isn't about me." I immediately regretted my defensive stance.

"I take that as a denial," he went on and shifted in his place. "Don't you want to be in love?" He smirked and I'd admit I was enjoying his nerve. He didn't have a care in the world and that was the first thing about him that defined him. I remained silent and he remarked, "guess the therapist needs more therapy, eh?"

It was more pointless bantering and less counseling, and I didn't like that. "Enough with that," I demanded tersely and he scoffed. "Is this your coping mechanism? Is that how you ignore people around you so nobody would look closer and figure out your actual fears?"

I had managed to pique his anger. "Fears, you say? Hm. Let me think about that." He lowered his gaze on the carpet momentarily and shrugged. "Oh, I can think of one right now."

"Let's hear it, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid I'd be fucking depressed by the time I walk out of this room." He ran his hand through his hair restlessly and I threw the stylus on the desk exasperatedly. He eyed the move and said, "or you'd give up on counseling, whichever comes first."

"Do you think this is a joke?" I banged my fist against the desk and he stared at my hand and then, his gaze traveled to my face. "Do you know what depression feels like?"

"Lousy and boring?" He arched a brow and I sighed. "Shitty? Bleak? Lonely? Hopeless?"

"So you do know what depression feels like," I said and began to note on my tab again.

"Oh, that's depression? I was under the impression everyone feels that way sometimes." He plopped his elbow on the armrest and peered out of the window. "Man, psychology is confusing as fuck. Now come to think about it. I guess I'm scared of psychology. That's one moronic subject."

He must have noted my deadpanned face. "Tell me about your best friend."

"Why would I talk about my best friend?" he asked and I stared at the notes I had made on my tablet. He thought life was mundane, he wasn't in love, he was adamant and he had known depression. Besides those points, I had nothing on him. No insight to him whatsoever.

"Look, this isn't an investigation," I told him gently.

"It sure feels like one," he muttered and I opened his college records. He was very good with sports and he wasn't a failing student at all-he was better than average which confused me even further. Was there a reason he was acting that way?

"Okay, Ranveer." I tore my gaze away from the screen of my tablet and glanced at him. "I get it. You're cool, sure. You're the son of the D.I; that's rad. What I don't get is that, why are you so against counseling?"

"I'm not," he retorted. "I just think this is a waste of my time."

"Fair enough," I said thoughtfully and browsed through his records again. "So you think people around you are doing absolutely fine? You're doing just fine."

"I don't think about people around me at all," he drawled again and looked at me. "You look like you could use a smoke."

"No, I'm good," I told him and switched back to making notes. "How often do you smoke?"

"Ah, quite often I'd say, but I'm not an addict if that's what you're wondering."

That gave me a pause and I examined his posture. He wasn't lying. "Then why do you?" I asked and began to make notes.

He shrugged. "Out of convenience I suppose, it's a great escape."

"From reality?" I was hoping he'd lead on and open up further about how he felt.

"If you count my past as one, then sure, that," he admitted and I was glad I came onto something. I immediately noted that and pondered upon it.

"Drugs aren't a great way to deal with reality," I chastised mildly but I knew he didn't pay attention to that. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Hard pass."

"What does the high bring you that your loved ones don't?" I pressed further and he glanced at the clock on the table.

His hands clenched to fist and his knuckles popped. "Why don't you try meth? You'd get all the answers you wish to seek."

I decided to retreat. I didn't have much time and the conversation wasn't leading us anywhere in particular. I realized that I needed at least a few more sessions to get to him. "Come on man, you're too young to be so screwed up."

"Aren't you too young to be doing this?" he asked instead and stretched his arms. "Look at you thirty going sixty behind that desk. Everyone is screwed up-even you are, admit it or not and it's often better to let it be. You're only squandering your time on things that are damaged beyond repair."

He was talking, I'd give him that. He chose the last five minutes to speak; the session wasn't a complete waste of my time after all. "I don't complain," I told him warmly. "I enjoy doing this and everything can be fixed. You just need to know how."

"You think you can fix things and get them back to how they were? Things have cracks in them-there will always be that mark of ruin, no matter how hard you try to erase that." His jaw set as he leaned back to his seat and set his ankle on the spot above his knee.

I took note of that and decided to deal with that later. "Except people aren't things, they-"

"My bad," he interrupted and smirked. "Scars then, you can't fix scars-not strenuously at least."

"Ever heard of healing?" I shot and began to organize the files on my desk. "You should try that."

He laughed and rose to his feet. "Easier said than done and again, you tell me, have you tried that little trick of healing?" he asked and shrugged into his leather jacket. "Isn't there anything in your past that doesn't bug you? Doesn't make you wonder what might have happened if you chose to do things differently?"

"Time makes a great difference, you have to let it work on you," I told him and shut my tablet. "It won't always be this painful, trust me on that."

He shook his head slowly and smirked. "And that's why life is mundane." That made me chuckle. "Anyway, I suppose we're done here. It was morbid speaking with you and I hope to never see your depressing face again."

"Except you will," I walked to the door after I grabbed my bag from the console table. "Next week, same time."

"Sure." He rolled his eyes and unlocked the door. "How bloody exciting," he muttered and walked out of the room before me. I wasted no time and headed out to conduct my next lecture.

~~~~

I hope you liked what you read. Please don't forget to vote, comment and share. <3