 |
|||
|
|
On AMC TV there was a series “Mad Men” that aired during the summer and fall of 2007. It was set in the spring to fall of 1960 and focused on an advertising firm located in midtown Manhattan. The series illustrated that the “Fifties” sucked just as much as some of us recollected they did. But it also demonstrated that in a world that peddled things that were not actually real, nothing could be trusted to be what it seemed to be. MadAvAdMen describes an alternative universe where the distortions of Mad Men are carried to even greater extremes. If you thought that women in Mad Men were repressed and exploited, think again! Don’t expect everything to be identical to Mad Men, in most cases things are worse. This series of stories focuses on yet another character – Betty Draper – from Mad Men as we learn what life is like for the wives and daughters of Sterling-Cooper (or is it Cooper-Sterling). But don’t worry Joan and Peggy will get to make appearances in this series as well.
The Therapist
Dr Wayne sat back in his chair, scribbling in his notebook. “A most vexacious patient. Honestly, a spoiled brat become a spoiled wife and a spoiled mother.” We examine what goes on in the inner office during a “fifty minute hour”.
Patient, “Honestly Dr. Wayne, my depression is returning”
Therapist, “What does it feel like”.
Patient, “My energy is gone. I get up in the morning and it is all I can do to get the girls out the door to school. I don’t even have the energy to change out of my nightgown and robe into my clothes. I am too tired to make myself lunch and it is only after noon that I can even think of going shopping. I feel negative about everything. When the girls come home from school I don’t want to hear anything that they have to say. About all I can say to them is ‘go to your room and start your homework’. At the least bit of backtalk they get marked down for Discipline. Any failure to do a chore, marked down for Discipline. A low grade on a homework or a quiz, marked down for Discipline. When I am really in a funk, when they get home from school I make them disrobe completely and kneel at the table in the family room in the basement to do their homework. They know that this means that when their father gets home they will suffer Discipline.
And my husband has less interest in me than he has in the dog.”
Therapist, “Um, hum”.
Patient, “Every evening with supper I have a glass of wine. Then Donald doesn’t come home in time for supper with the girls. So I eat with the girls and send them off to bathe and go to bed. Then I clean up supper. And I sit in the basement in the family room and finish the bottle of wine while I watch TV. Maybe I get back into my nightgown and robe and slipper. That’s if I ever got out of them at all. Maybe I open another bottle of wine while I wait for him to get home. Some nights he never makes it home. Some nights I open a third bottle of wine. Am I becoming an alcoholic?”
Therapist, “What do you think”
Patient, “I just want him to stop working late and pay some attention to me. You know I have my needs, I have my fantasies. I know he has made partner at an age so young that it is scandalous. He provides anything I ask for. I get a new car every other year. This year we got a new summer house. But I wonder if he really loves me anymore. I am the one that has to give Discipline to the girls while he sits and watches. And then maybe he will roger me. Once a week our Disciplinary Circle meets and each of us wives have to Discipline the other wives. A different house each week. A different piece of Disciplinary furniture each week. A different Disciplinary Implement each week. But basically the same old shit. The only times he really seems interested in sex is at our weekly Disciplines and then it is usually only after he has serviced some of the other wives. Usually either Francine or Helen or Trudy. And I have been serviced by Francine’s husband or Helen’s new husband. He usually has no interest in having me after I have been had by Peter. But then I hate being had by Peter. All the wives hate being had by Peter. I just don’t know where my life is going.”
Therapist, “Um, hum”.
Patient, “Doctor, do you think I need another course of VID? The last one seemed to really pick me up but now I have gone flat again. I know that it is hard, and expensive, and well, very, very painful. But afterwards Donald seems to really love me again. At least for a couple of weeks. Is it too soon for another VID?”
Therapist, “How do you feel about VID.”
Patient, “Well to begin with, I am scared of it. I feel so naked and vulnerable and helpless. And the treatment itself is very painful. I mean you can’t imagine how painful it is. You would have to be a woman to even begin to understand what VID is like. And afterwards I am sore for almost two weeks. It hurts and I am tender and when Donald makes love to me it hurts really bad. And I am swollen in my most private parts. It is all really horrible. But Donald really enjoys making love to me after VID and I do admit that once I get past the pain I get the wildest reactions to Donald’s love making. What do you call them?”
Therapist, “Orgasms”
Patient, “Yes, Orgasms. The wildest orgasms. I’ve talked with Francine about it. You know that she has recently had VID. Yes, but of course, you are also her Psychiatrist aren’t you. But she has had similar experiences. She told me that she really didn’t know what an orgasm was until after she had a VID and then had sex. Why is it that men make such violent love to women after they have had VID. Is it because our outer parts are swollen. Or is it because we are so sore that when they enter us we squeeze so tight. Is it because we scream and squirm so much. Or plead with them not to do it.”
Silence.
Patient. “Doctor, do you think I could have another VID? It isn’t too soon is it. How long are we supposed to waiting in between VID’s. Could you call Dr. Putz and see if he could fit me in. I know that I don’t like Dr. Putz. I find him creepy. Oh please Dr. Wayne. I know it hurts and I scream and cry when they are doing it. But I need it so much. I want to be happy again. I want to feel smooth and creamy. I want to be excited again.”
Therapist, looking at his watch, “It is forty minutes past the hour. Do you want your weekly score?”
Patient, “Oh yes, please Dr. Can’t you see how my hands are shaking? Can I have the cane or will it only be the strap?”
Therapist, “OK, go to the bathroom and get ready.”
Tawse Therapy
As Betty retires to the tiny attached bathroom, Dr Wayne. picks up the phone and dials a number, “Isaac Baker Putz, Dr. Wayne calling. Hi Sac, could you fit Mrs. Draper in for a VID next week. Yes the blonde shicksa whinner. Yes I know she’s a kvetcher but she is beautiful and she loves it. Yes it would be trouble, but the bitch really needs it and her husband will always pay better than the going rate. And remember, her husband is putting the pork to Rachel. Thanks, I really owe you one.”
Betty returns to the office, girdle and panties in one hand, a white towel in the other. She covers the head of the Psychiatrist’s couch with the towel. Her therapist is very meticulous about this ritual. She guesses that some lady or another took her beating with a full bladder and after a few swats lost control. It must have been quite a task to clean pungent urine out of the plaid fabric of the couch. Such a ticky-tacky couch. Why do shrinks have such plebian tastes. But in any case, Dr. Wayne insists on a trip to the bathroom before the crucial, physical portion of the session. And above all, protect the precious couch. Betty recalled reading somewhere that Freud, in Vienna, covered the head of his couch with an anti-mascar to prevent the hair oil of his patients from staining the fabric. She wondered if Freud beat his patients. She had read somewhere that Freud fucked his female patients. And that actually most of his patients were female. She wondered if Dr. Wayne fucked any of his patients. Even though he was a schmuck, Betty wouldn’t mind him fucking her.
Then Betty lifted up the voluminous skirts of her yellow dress and bent over, exposing the white globes of her cheeks and the tanned posterior skin of her thighs above the tops of her stockings. As she gathered the hem of her skirts up around her face she bit down on the edge of the fabric and clenched her knees together in anticipation of what was to come. Her buttocks were already covered with bruises in a wide variety of colors ranging from black and blue (that could have been due to last Friday’s meeting of her Disciplinary Circle) to yellowish resolving marks at least a week old. Some were obviously the work of a broad strap or paddle while others could have been caused by a switch or a whip. It is quite an impressive display of a history of multiple chastisements on the ass of the young matron.
Dr. Wayne opened a drawer of his desk and took out a piece of leather strapping, three inches wide and about two feet long. One end was trimmed into a handle while the other end was split into two tails. He informs the blonde bent over his couch that she will once again be getting a tawsing and it will be a “score” Betty assumes that he means twenty swats of the
Scottish strap. Without any further ado he lays into her, dispassionately delivering about four or five strokes a minutes. This added bright red welts to the panoply of bruises already decorating her butt. After each blow she flinches and whimpers but maintains her position. Dr Wayne is always amazed at how stoically his women take their beatings. And how much they look forward to them. After a couple of minutes of flogging her ass, he stops and inspects her posterior. The punishment that he inflicted is not minor. The rounded portion of Betty’s backside is a solid mass of red welt with occasional spots of purple bruise. In a couple of spots where the tawse hit the same spot several times over, small droplets of blood are oozing out. This is partly due to the force with which he applied the strap and partly due to the resolving collection of bruises on her buttocks when he started off. He thinks to himself, “Betty you are really developing a liking for a licking. You have a really beautiful body but you have a need for pain and are working very hard to satisfy that need. If you keep this pace up, in a few years you will have a collection of scars like Mona Sterling, the oldest of my Sterling-Cooper ladies.” Mona’s favorite was being caned until the skin was torn into strips of raw flesh and the blood was running down into her shoes. Fifty strokes of the cane in a tight pattern centered on the exact spot where the thighs joined the butt could now consistently bring Mona to an orgasm so intense that she usually lost consciousness for at least five minutes. Mona was Dr. Wayne’s favorite patient. He humped her regularly. He remembered the debates when he was a resident about Therapist:Patient relationships. Some of the Attendings had held out that having sex with patients or for that matter beating patients was unethical. They died in poverty. Patients paid well for being beaten, especially when you charged them more for a “physical” session. And only the patients at the top of the billing scale got fucked.
His musings were interrupted when Betty unclenched her knees and spread her legs widely. She pleaded with him “Please Dr. Wayne, could you give me a half a dozen right down the middle. Please, sir”. He shook his head and said “Young lady, I am not Dr. Putz, I deal in symbolism not direct assault on the seat of your problem. I have called him up and you are scheduled for a VID session next week. That should satisfy you. Besides, it is fifty minutes after the hour and I have another patient waiting.” Once again she asked, “Please doctor, if you could give me a dozen strokes with a cane, I would be forever grateful.” But the Psychiatrist refused to indulge her further. “You will get more than your share of pain next week at Dr. Putz’s office”, replied Dr. Wayne. Given the present state of her buttocks and given the probability that there was a meeting of her Disciplinary Circle coming up sometimes this weekend, if the instrument wielded was any harsher than a belt and if more than a dozen strokes were dispensed, Betty would probably show up at the VID session with an ass already sporting deep bruises and multiple cuts. After a session of VID, it was likely her buttocks would take close to a month to heal. And given the level of activity of her Disciplinary Circle, it could be a couple of months before the last cut, re-opened time and time again, healed.
Once Betty realized that she would be able to solicit no more abuse from her Psychiatrist, she stood up, let fall her skirts and smoothed the dress into place. The blonde stuffed her girdle and panties into her purse which was of no more than middling size, managing to squeeze them in by some miracle of packing. She exited the doorway that led directly into the hallway and almost collided with a dark haired middle aged woman of medium height who was entering the door into Dr. Wayne’s outer office. It was Mona Sterling whose incredibly tight red skirt more than adequately accentuated the most spectacular ass in all of the Cooper-Sterling ad agency. Such was the state of her psyche that Betty was 50 feet down the hall before it registered that the women she had passed was the wife of the firm’s senior partner. It was only when Betty was seated on the commode busily manipulating her clitoris that the implications of her and Mona (and Francine and Helen) seeing the same Psychiatrist began to sink in. As she started slipping her fingers in and out of her vagina she started incorporating fantasies of Mona being abused into her masturbatory musings. Betty wondered how many strokes of the cane Mona would take that afternoon. As it turned out, Mona would take twice as many as Betty fantasized. The blonde’s rapid breathing and soft moans fascinated the nurse from the internist’s office just down the hall occupying the adjacent stall. But then the lady in white knew all about Dr. Wayne and his strange collection of patients.
|
|
|