Chapter 7: The Outpatient
After the kiss happened, I shied away from Samantha and dove into the archeology section of books. There are probably over a hundred books on history or different wonders and mysteries of the world. Once I buried myself into a book, I couldn’t stop reading. I forgot how engaged I can be in learning new things. I was reading about Ancient Egyptian practices. I read until I practically fell asleep.
Samantha helped carry me to bed and tucked me in.
I guess today is the day I take my first step towards being healthier. I think as I stretch my limbs before climbing out of Samantha’s bed. I continue to feel a little better each day.
She could sleep next to me. I wonder why she’s not. We kissed yesterday...oh my god...we kissed…
Does this mean we will get back together? Does she still feel for me? Is she just letting me stay to get better because she feels bad?
Ugh...I feel like this will be a long morning. Do I really need to get help? I’m sure I’ll be okay without it.
“Up already?” Samantha calls from the living room. I swear she never sleeps. She’s always awake before and after me.
“Yeah.” I’ll be out in a minute.
“Do you want pancakes or eggs or anything?” She offers.
“Are you cooking?” I laugh at the thought of Sam cooking. I don’t think she has cooked a day in her life. She always has things prepared for her.
“Only if you help me.” She responds.
That is intriguing. She would cook for me if I help. This I have to see. Maybe I will put up with eating a little just to see her and the process of making it.
“Deal.” I shout and make my way to her in the kitchen.
“So, what will it be?” She hands me an apron.
“How about pancakes. Do you really think we need these?” I gesture to the aprons.
“I’ve never cooked before, so I’m going to say yes.”
“Do you have all of the ingredients?”
“I should, I’m sure the things we need are somewhere. I have a recipe.” She pulls out her phone and goes to the checklist. “Let’s see...we need: flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, an egg, milk, and butter.”
We scrounge the cupboards together and holler out which ones we find. Most of it was in the cupboard Sam looked in. Once we get all of the ingredients out, we double check them.
“Umm...this says baking soda. I’m sure you said baking powder.”
“Is there a difference?” She asks.
“I’m pretty sure there is. We should find the right one.”
We look for baking powder and it’s nowhere to be seen.
“This isn’t good…” she says, “How are we going to make them now?”
“Just a second.” I grab her phone and search the difference between the two. I know my mom has used baking soda with other things when we ran out of baking powder. “Do you have lemon juice?”
“Yes, I don’t see how that will help. Are we making lemon pancakes now?”
“It’s a replacement for the baking powder. We need baking soda and lemon juice.” I explain.
“I was just going to call it quits. Are you sure it will work? That’s not what the recipe says.” She questions me.
“Of course it will.”
“Here, it’s your idea to cook. So let’s start.” I hand her back her phone.
“Okay, I need one and a half cups of flour.” She looks through her measuring cups. “I don’t see it.”
“Use this three times.” I hand her the half cup.
She plops the first half cup in the bowl making a cloud of flour dust. She continues with the other two.
“I think you may need more. It looks like half of it flew out.” I laugh at the now white countertop.
“It’s supposed to be like that.” She says aggressively and continues with the recipe. “One teaspoon of salt, and one tablespoon of sugar.”
She puts them in the bowl. “Now we need the baking powder.. which you can add since it doesn’t exist.” She teases.
I grab the bowl from her. “How much baking powder is it supposed to be?”
I think about the replacement recipe. I’m pretty sure it was half teaspoon of lemon juice and one fourth teaspoon of baking soda for every one teaspoon of baking powder. That makes one and a half for lemon and three fourths for soda.
I add the mixture back to Samantha.
“Now we stir it up.” I watch her wisk together the mostly dry ingredients, creating an even bigger cloud of smoke.
“I don’t think you have to mix it that hard.” I interject.
“It doesn’t say how hard, just to do it.” She defends herself. “Now I need one egg and 3 tablespoons of melted butter and one and a fourth cups of milk.”
I grab the liquid measuring cup and pour out the milk for her. I also put the butter in the microwave for fifteen seconds. “Here you go.”
She was concentrating so hard to make a perfect hole in the center of the bowl.
“The butter is going to turn back to solid before you finish that. It doesn’t have to be a perfect circle.” I joke.
She glares at me with a smile and continues working. I watch her trying to perfect the circle. It took her three minutes before she declared it was good enough.
She pours the milk and butter into the hole she created and grabs the egg. She taps the egg on the top of the bowl.
“Isn’t it supposed to break?” She asks.
“Yes, you’re not doing it hard enough.”
“That’s what she said.” Samantha laughs and hits the egg harder.
Way too hard. I think as the egg bursts all over her hand and drops to the floor. I burst out laughing.
She picks another egg and goes back to tapping it lightly. “This isn’t working. If I do it harder, it will break again.”
I grab her hand and position her fingers better. “Like this.” I say as I flick our wrists. The egg hits the bowl and a line spreads around the center. “Now, turn it, and hit it like that again. Then you should be able to split it in half without dropping eggshells.”
She follows my directions and splits the egg. “Wow, I did not think that would be so hard.”
“It’s not that hard.” I tease. She tosses the eggshell at me in response.
“Your floor is going to be so messy by the end of this.” I say.
“I’ll have someone clean it later.” She responds and starts mixing the pancake mix together.
Knowing I won’t be the one cleaning the floor, I grab a handful of flour from the bag and toss it at Samantha. The side of her head and shoulder are now full of flour.
“I don’t think so.” She looks sternly at me. Oh shit. What did I just do?
She grabs my hands and pushes me against the wall. I lose all train of thought. She is so close to me. Yes. Restrain me more. I take a deep breath.
Samantha holds me against the wall with her body and grabs a hand of flour then drops it right on top of my head.
I shake the flour off and it creates a cloud on it’s way down. “That’s not fair.” I say.
“You want to know what’s not fair?” She responds by tickling my armpit.
I giggle and start pushing her away. She grabs both of my arms in response and holds them above my head. Yes, I have missed this. She swaps to one hand and tickles my stomach and sides.
“Enough...enough.” I gasp it between breaths.
“I say when it’s enough.” She tickles me harder. I need to get away. It’s good enough.
I let my legs relax and slide down the wall hoping to escape.
Samantha follows me down and pins me under her. Not the escape I wanted. But I like it more.
Samantha looks at me with her commanding eyes and smirks. I wonder what she is thinking.
She starts tickling me again and I start losing it. I can’t contain the laughter escaping my mouth. She is tickling all over and measuring my responses.
She gets to my hips and I lose it. I start trying to buck her off and fail.
“Ah, so you like it here the most.” She says with a grin.
“Noooooo.” I respond and she continues. “Stop….please…” I gasp out.
She moves from there and tickles my thighs. Please don’t get any closer. I’m going to lose it. I want you so bad. Thoughts of sex with Samantha fill my mind. The fun and laughter is turning into full fledged excitement. I’m not going to be able to contain myself if she continues.
“Yellow. Yellow.” I say remembering our warning word.
Samantha stops and looks at me with amusement. “What needs to be adjusted?” She questions seductively.
“You.” I did not think this through enough.
She looks hurt by my response.
“Not a bad thing. It’s good, I just started getting super excited and needed to take a breather.”
She smiles and gets up. She helps me up and says, “I think it’s time to get these cooked.”
She grabs a pan and places it on the burner. She turns the gas knob and nothing happens. She spins it on and off a few times.
“Scooch, you’re going to blow the place up!” I take over the stove, turn the burner slightly on and hit the spark button. Instantly, the lingering gas ignites and the flames diminish just as quick.
“That was intense. I’m glad you know what you’re doing.” Samantha smiles at me.
“Maybe you should stick to watching. I’m afraid these are going to all be black if I let you try and cook them.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She agrees with me.
I make eight small, golden brown pancakes from the batter she made. “Those look great!” She says excitedly.
They really do look good. Can I afford to eat one? I think so. I must have just burned a lot of calories laughing. Plus I said I’d have some if she made them.
She grabs the syrup, two plates, and forks. “Bring the pancakes to the table, Ileana.” She commands.
I follow her to the table with the pancakes.
“Look at this. Together, we made perfect pancakes.” She takes a bite. “These are really good. They even taste a little lemony.” She compliments us.
I put a pancake on my plate and put a little syrup on it.
You can do it. It’s just one small pancake. Samantha will be happy. You made these, the least you can do is try them.
I cut a small piece and stab it with my fork. I look at the pancake before slowly moving it to my mouth and chewing it.
Wow. The texture is phenomenal. I can’t believe we actually made these.
I take another bite.
That’s enough. You don’t need anymore. You can do this on your own. You don’t need to make Samantha happy.
I put my fork down. My head doesn’t quit when I’m around food.
“I’m so proud of you for making these with me. I’m also proud of the bites you took.” Samantha says encouragingly.
She’s proud of me. She likes that I ate some.
I pick the fork back up, focusing on Samantha and finish the remainder of my pancake.
I shouldn’t have done that. I could have stopped after two bites. Why did I continue?
Worry and panic start to overwhelm me. I gotta get it out. I have to do something.
Samantha stands and places herself behind me. “Good job.” She plants a kiss on my forehead.
The kiss levels my mood and I take a deep breath.
“Are you ready to begin the day? We have an appointment in an hour. And we need to shower.”
She grabs my hand and leads me to the bathroom, “No funny business, this is strictly a necessary duty.”
She turns on the shower and multiple shower heads come alive with water. She then starts undressing. God, is she serious? No funny business? I watch her remove her clothing to reveal a perfectly slender body. She looks just like I remember.
“Come on, don’t just stand there.” She walks to me casually and tugs at my clothes.
She can’t see me like this. I’m not perfect yet. What if she notices all the fat on me? I can’t do this. I ate so much earlier, I can feel it add to me already.
“Shhh. It’s okay.” She pulls me into a hug. “I won’t even look at you. We don’t have time to go one after the other.”
She walks me towards the shower, “I’ll face the wall, you hop in behind me.”
I watch her for a few seconds making sure she doesn’t look this way. I slowly remove my clothes and join behind her.
The shower is probably big enough for ten people. So there is no reason we should be close to one another.
Samantha is naked in the shower right behind you. My mind starts wandering the wrong way. Turn around, you can look at her ass again. She said nothing about looking.
I need to shower. Stop it brain.
I quickly lather soap all over my body and hair while the water almost immediately rinses it off from all sides.
Look, you’re clean now. You can look at her. There’s no harm in it.
I slowly turn and glance at the glowing skin of my former lover who is standing a few feet away. I would give anything to turn back time and not go through our break-up.
“I can feel you looking at me.” She says in a powerful tone.
I turn around to lather soap again.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I know how hard it is to resist this hot bod.” She says in confidence.
I turn back around to face her again. This time, I bump into her. She moved closer, right behind me. As soon as our wet skin touched, our eyes became entranced in a battle of lust and control.
I want to lose control. Please take control of me. I pleaded to her in my mind. Hold me down like before. Make me immobile. Touch me, tickle me, do something.
“You make this so difficult.” Samantha whispers.
“Controlling myself around you.” She says and winks at me.
Heat flows to the core of my being. “Don’t.” I plea. Lose control please. I need it. I need you.
“I’ll give in, just a little.” She says almost growling.
“Assume the position, holding that bar.” Samantha points to a long metal bar that runs hip height along the length of the shower.
I walk to the bar, spread my legs slightly and lean forward holding the bar.
I stand there for a minute and nothing has happened. I look up and see Samantha smirking at me.
“I didn’t tell you to move, did I?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“No, what? You should know this by now.”
“No, My Queen.” I respond hurriedly. How am I supposed to know we’re still like this? I mean she did tell me to assume the position. I should have known.
“Very good, My Pet. However, since you did not get it in your first try and you looked up, you will be punished.”
I hold my breath in anticipation. I can’t wait.
Slap. Samantha’s hand makes contact with my left ass cheek. Yes, that hurts so good. I need more.
Samantha continues slapping my butt waiting about thirty seconds in between each one. In between each slap I revel in the lingering pain that the shower water soothes too soon.
“That should do it. Fifteen spankings for not remembering my name. And the punishment for not following the position will be that no further action will take place.” She says pleased with the outcome.
I groan knowing I will be excited for a good portion of the day and I just have to deal with it.
This is what I have missed. I forgot how pain can build up my sexual cravings. I need and want her.
What am I doing? What are we doing? I have to talk with her about this. I need to know what we are.
“We have to hurry and get dressed. We only have about ten minutes now.” Samantha pulls me from my mind.
The meeting with the psychologist was good. We agreed that joining an outpatient day program will be the best course of action. Three days a week I will go to the facility and spend three hours there. And every Friday, Samantha and I will go for two hours.
Each week that is completed, Samantha agreed to do anything I want for that following Saturday afternoon.
I know exactly what I want to do for the first one.