I was chatting with a client of mine one evening a long while ago, and he started rambling on about the current popularity of "Life Coaching". He suggested that with my "motivational talents" and my background in NLP and other psychologically based models I should offer a special curriculum for those who want to put some aspect of their life in better order. I pondered why I hadn't thought of it myself? Then I realized: I had. I have been a life coach for sixteen years with my naughty children. I just never put a label on it.
When I accidentally stumbled into my vocation as a many years ago I made a commitment to myself that I would engage with each person as the unique individual he or she is. Consequently, I became versed in many styles and approaches to therapy. As those people came to me, one at a time, we'd talk about their needs and desires and together we'd create the type of adventure we'd have together.
Some wanted to play the role of a naughty child to my adult authority figure, being taken to task for some school infraction or household mischief. Some wanted to re-live a childhood memory. Many invented completely unique fantasies from which I got to make discoveries of my own.
David was a landscape contractor who sought my advice.
“Please be seated, David. You're looking well.”
“I'm a very naughty boy, Miss.”
Ruffling through irrelevant paperwork I remained stoic as was expected for a person in my position.
“You're getting rave reviews from your clients. Seem to be doing a splendid job.”
“No Miss, it's not the work. I've been naughty in other ways.”
Between checking text messages I glanced at him quizzically.
“How so?”
Sweating, nervous and fidgeting as he was, the response wasn't immediate.
“I've...um...been playing with my naughty bits.”
I was sure there was a tuna fish sandwich in my desk drawer and I was a tad peckish.
“To what bits were you naughty?” I said, unwrapping the pungent fish concoction.
“Well, my penis, Ma'am.”
I needed something to wash down the dry fish and stale bread so I went to my small refrigerator in the corner of my plush office and grabbed a Coke. I did notice a massive bulge in his khakis.
“From the looks of it it seems to be working right.”
For some reason David appeared flustered.
“Ma'am...Miss...I'm a very naughty boy that needs to be punished.”
I kept considering the slice of Marie Callenders key lime pie that Suzie left in the lunchroom fridge.
“Are you thinking about your mother again? Her sometimes cold, callous relationship with you?”
David was discreetly brushing his hands over the tent in his pants.
“No Ma'am. I've been very bad and require strict discipline.”
There is nothing cuter than abandoned puppies suckling on mother cats on YouTube so I was admittedly a bit distracted.
“Maybe you should call her.”
I glanced over to see a small stain in the crotch area of his trousers.
“She's been deceased for twenty years.”
Donald Trump was up to more misogyny and race-bating. Must see that.
“I'd say you should focus on the positive, David. Take quantitative steps foreword.”
David inexplicably pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing his throbbing and moist penis. I barely noticed to the sounds of Babymetal.
“Please, Miss. Indulge me.”
With a begrudging sigh I dropped my pants and panties and eased myself over his cock for a lovely spanking.