Written by: JeremyDCP@hotmail.com
Chapter 26: "Wellness"
"My favorite part of that whole episode between you and
Amy yesterday was when you took her blouse and just RIPPED
it from her body," Devon proclaimed, standing in front of me
and neatly looping the neck tie that went along with the rest
of my outfit. Yes, I had chosen the business casual look for
today. Soon, Devon fastened the black garment around my neck
and added, "I was like, OH MY GOD... I cannot believe Jeremy
just did that to her! The look on Amy's face was priceless.
You could tell that she did not believe what you did, either."
I smiled leisurely. "What did Krissy have to say?"
"Krissy said that she wished you would be as forceful and
as domineering with her sometimes, too!"
The time was 9:10am and the date was June 29, 2013. Devon
was in my private quarters with me, helping me get ready for
my impending trip to the mainland with Amy. The helicopter
which would transport us to Peru was due to arrive in a mere
20 minutes. It certainly promised to be a big day.
Of course, Devon and I were discussing the events of what
happened the previous day between Amy and yours truly. I had
went to a somewhat dark place in my decision to dominate and
ultimately seize control of Amy, but felt it was necessary.
Not only would the newfound direction and guidance enliven
her final two weeks on the island and most likely make them
much more enjoyable, but I honestly felt as if becoming the
authority figure that Amy so desperately wanted was the only
possible way I could get her to seek medical help. I had to
become her _Master_, and thus, make the decision for her.
Truth be told, Amy needed mental health counseling and
care much more than she did a dominant authority figure at
this point of her life. Making sure she got the treatment
and subsequent medication that she required had been my
primary goal all along. I simply had to find a way to get
Amy to agree to seek help. She had been steadfast in her
reluctance to do so, but that all changed yesterday.
"Krissy does not seem to be the submissive type," I told
Devon, chuckling. "I could never imagine Krissy playing the
role of Amy yesterday. Not in a million years."
Devon giggled and tapped me on the nose with an extended
finger. "Jeremy, you silly thing! Women do not have to be
submissive for them to want their man to be a little rough
and forceful with them. Being overpowered... it can truly
feel exhilarating at times - IF it is done in a safe manner,
and with the right partner."
"The problem with that," I mused, watching Devon as she
now adjusted my shirt collar, "is that Krissy would want to
turn the tables and be all rough and tumble with ME."
Devon snickered at my remark. "You think Krissy would
use all those karate skills of hers and judo-chop your ass?"
I burst out into laughter. "I wouldn't put it past her!"
Devon smiled coyly and mused, "I like it when Krissy
turns all superior and uses her strength to overpower me.
I never really thought of subbing to another woman before,
but I think it would be really HOT if I did it with Krissy."
"As do I, dear. As do I..."
"It was awesome what you did for Amy yesterday," Devon
then surmised, putting the finishing touches upon my shirt
collar and thus, my overall appearance. "I almost fainted
and had a heart attack in the voyeur room when you made Amy
stand in the corner, her body quivering and her emotions
on edge, only to then slip that note into her hand and
basically DEMAND that she gets the help that she needs."
Devon blushed and giggled, "I almost creamed myself!"
"From start to finish, I was trembling and shaking the
whole way through," was my honest admission. "It was so
out-of-character for me. I had never done anything like that
before. I'm surprised I made it through the whole afternoon
in one piece. Beforehand, Krissy was SURE that I was going
to crack and wilt like a little flower."
"You proved her wrong!" Devon exclaimed. "You did a GREAT
job. I watched every minute of it from the voyeur room
alongside Krissy. We were both AMAZED. I think it will do
a world of good for Amy, too. A whole world of good!"
Just then, two quick, subtle knocks came to the entrance
of my personal suite.
Not waiting for an answer, the door opened and in stepped
the captivating duo of Kristanna and Amy. Normally, I would
focus my attention upon my precious fiancee and admire just
how breathtaking and gorgeous of a woman she was whenever
she first entered a room. This time, however, the one whose
appearance literally blew me away was Amy.
No, Amy was not wearing one of her trademark tops with
the hot, erotic inscriptions sprawled across the front of
them. My favorite thus far (and her most shocking) had been
the _Filthy WHORE_, _Sin For Sale_ tank-top that she wore
twice a week. Amy had a t-shirt that I enjoyed as well;
across those overflowing breasts, there was an illustration
of a giraffe and the words _Deep Throat_ next to it. The
first time I saw it, I could not help but to laugh.
Amy did not have on a flirty miniskirt either, which was
another of her personal trademarks. Amy _loved_ prancing
around in little, glove-tight skirts and eliciting responses
from not only me, but the all of the ladies here as well.
She had a luscious pair of legs, and knew how to use them.
Nor was the 31-year-old dressed for a day out enjoying
the island. Amy did not have on a pair of sneakers and
cotton shorts, with a t-shirt two sizes too small, and a
string bikini underneath just in case the beach beckoned.
In fact, there was nothing promiscuous or demonstrative
about Amy's wardrobe. Not today; not with a trip to Peru and
a visit to a health care provider on the horizon.
Amy looked much more different to me right now than she
ever had before. I was used to wild Amy, with her often
lascivious choice of attire and wear. I was certainly not
accustomed to seeing Amy quite like _this_. But if a single
word could accurately describe her appearance at this precise
moment in time, it would simply have to be _spectacular_.
From my initial glance, it appeared as if Amy had just
stepped out of the board room of a multi-billion dollar
corporation. Amy looked like a power broker; perhaps even
the CEO. She wore a stylish blazer top, its color beige,
with a large, single button holding it together in front
near her midriff. The fabric was a mixture of polyester
and rayon. The blazer itself had long sleeves with buttoned
cuffs and flap pockets on either side of her waistline.
Amy also had on a blouse with several black and white
designs, but it was tough to make out because she had the
blazer buttoned and mostly closed in front. In addition, the
young woman wore a pair of straight-leg trousers that
effortlessly matched her top in terms of color and appeal.
The pants went all the way down to her ankles, and gave way
to a pair of open-toe beige pumps with modest two inch heels.
A great deal of time and effort had even been put into
Amy's hairstyle as well. The burgundy tresses, which were
often kept loose and free-flowing, were actually pinned-up
and done in fashionable curls and ringlets. The look not
only accentuated the full outline of Amy's neck and its
slender contours, but also her spellbinding face as well.
"Oh my God!" Devon squealed, full of excitement, as she
scurried over to Amy and grasped her wrists with both hands.
She even hopped about, gushing, "Oh my God, Amy! You look
fantastic! You look amazing!"
"I have Kristanna to thank for it," Amy quietly told her.
"She spent the past two hours giving me this make-over."
Devon turned toward Kristanna and smiled appreciatively.
"Amy looks like a Hollywood movie star getting ready to walk
the red carpet! Wow, Krissy! This was all your doing?"
"I outdid myself," Kristanna agreed, glancing at Amy one
final time and admiring her from head to toe. "It is what
Jeremy wanted. He wanted Amy to look classy and professional
for their trip to Lima. I told him I'd take care of it."
"I have NEVER dressed like this in my life," Amy murmured,
before shifting her gaze my way and smiling faintly. "Do you
like it, Jeremy?" The red-headed goddess glimpsed at herself
momentarily in a nearby wall mirror, then turned her attention
back to me and asked, "Is this how you wanted me to look?"
"Very much so," I responded, grinning broadly. "You
look... radiant." I pulled Amy into my arms and offered her
a warm, loving embrace. I tucked my chin over her shoulder
and promised, "We're going to have a fun day in Lima. It's
not all gonna be about seeing a psychiatrist and telling him
your problems. We will go out to eat for lunch and perhaps
even dinner. We will also do some sight-seeing. I'm going
to show you a really good time today."
"You're a lucky girl," Devon told Amy, also smiling at
her. "Lima is such an interesting city. You get to spend
the day there! Can you bring me back a souvenir or two?"
"We are still spending another day in Peru before the next
two weeks are up?" Kristanna asked me, wanting confirmation.
"I mean... all of us? You did say you wanted to take all of
us back to the mainland, Jeremy, one more time before the
others all go home in two weeks. Am I right?"
"Not this coming Monday, but the one following," I told
her. "Everyone gets to see Lima one more time. I'm even
taking you all back to that salon. If you weren't pampered
and spoiled enough the first time, I'll make sure you are
THIS time." I paused for a brief moment, allowing those
words to sink in and register. "Please make sure, Krissy,
that you tell the others of that when they start asking
where Amy and I are today. Please tell them that I WILL
take them for a day of sight-seeing in Peru one more time."
Now concerned, Amy glanced my way. "You think any of the
girls will be jealous that you took me to the city today?"
"How could they feel jealous?" Devon retorted, her eyes
fixed upon Amy. "Jeremy is taking you to the doctor there!
He taking you there because you need it."
Amy shook her head at Devon as I implored, "No. Please
don't tell the others why we are there. No one but us
needs to know that Amy is going to see a psychiatrist. She
has enough apprehension about seeing one as is. This is a
personal and private matter for Amy, Devon. Please... DO NOT
give any of the others even a CLUE as to why we went there.
The only ones who know are the four of us in this room."
Amy pouted. "Camille would make jokes about me behind my
back if she found out!"
"You can't tell anyone," Kristanna stressed to Devon,
before looking back at me. "I'll take care of it, Jeremy.
If anyone asks, I'll just say that Amy had a personal issue
that needed to be dealt with in the city, and you had to go
with her to straighten it out. I will leave it at that."
"It's no one else's business, anyway!" Amy cackled.
"Shhhhh," I consoled Amy, bringing her back into my arms
and embracing her yet again. "It will be okay. No one else
is going to know that you're seeing a psychiatrist today."
"You two better get down to the beach and the heli-pad,"
Kristanna said to Amy and yours truly, gazing at her
wristwatch. "Kevin will be here very shortly."
"Who is Kevin?" Devon inquired, suddenly puzzled.
"Kevin is the helicopter pilot," Kristanna answered.
"Whenever Jeremy doesn't feel like taking the big boat to
the mainland, he calls Kevin and asks him to fly him there
instead via helicopter. Nearly every single time I came
to the island to visit Jeremy in the past, Kevin would fly
me here. I would stay for however long, then Kevin would
simply return at the end of my visit and fly me back to the
airport in Lima. Kevin always told me that Jeremy pays him
really well for his services. Jeremy made him a rich man!"
"What it boils down to," I informed Devon, "is whether or
not I want a four hour boat ride one-way, or an 80 minute
helicopter flight. Today, it's the helicopter."
* * *
Located just a hop, skip and a jump from the beach in the
Miraflores District - an upscale, ritzy section of Lima -
was the office of Dr. Gabriel Humala. A well-known and
respected psychiatrist throughout his field, I had been
under the care of Dr. Humala for the past three years. The
medication he had prescribed for me - _Effexor_ - had helped
stabilize my mood levels and improve the quality of my life.
I was once a non-believer myself, but now I openly embraced
the idea of mental health diagnosis and treatment.
I suffered from dysthymia, which is basically a chronic
state of depression. Without the care Dr. Humala had given
me over the years, and the subsequent medication, I honestly
do not know if I would still be alive today.
With that as a backdrop, perhaps now one could understand
why I had such a vested interest in getting Amy some help.
Amy wanted me to go into the doctor's office with her and
listen in during her diagnosis. Even though she was nervous
and full of trepidation, I opted not to. I told her that I
would be just outside, in the waiting room.
I implored to Amy that Dr. Humala was a good and reputable
man. He was easy to talk to and even easier to trust, and
would not stop until she was on the path to wellness. And
though a life-long resident of Lima, it also helped that Dr.
Humala spoke perfect English.
I again stressed how very important it was for Amy to be
totally open and honest while inside the examination room.
Dr. Humala was not going to judge her, or look down upon her,
for anything she said to him. He was here to help her, I
insisted, but that could only happen if she allowed him the
necessary access to do so. "You HAVE to be honest," were my
final words for her, before she disappeared into his office.
20 minutes turned into 30. 30 into 45. Before long, I
looked at my wristwatch and noticed it was well past 1:00pm.
Amy had went into Dr. Humala's office at precisely noon,
which was her scheduled appointment time. Soon, 1:30pm
was creeping up on me a lot quicker than I thought it would.
There was not much of anything for me to do in the waiting
room. Most of the literature here was Spanish, so all I
really could do with the books and magazines strewn about was
look at the photographs contained within. I spoke a little
Spanish - enough to get by in the city for a day or two - but
I was downright clueless when it came time to try and read it.
There were no other patients on this Saturday afternoon
and Dr. Humala's female receptionist, although very nice and
friendly, spoke very little English. So, all I was
basically left to do was play the waiting game.
The time was now approaching 2:00pm, but I was in no
way impatient or frustrated. I may have been bored, but I
was not feeling one bit impatient. I was glad that Amy had
been in with the good doctor for nearly two hours. I simply
figured that the longer she stayed, the more Dr. Humala would
learn so he could properly diagnose and treat her.
I would have been fine if Amy spent six hours, or even
longer, with him. The cost was inconsequential to me. I
just wanted Amy to feel better, and ultimately be happy.
"Camille is angry that you took Amy to the city and not
her," was a text - from Kristanna - that I received on my
tablet at 2:06pm. I texted back, asking if anyone else was
upset. The response I got? "Only Camille. Furious."
Just then, Dr. Humala stepped out of his office and made
his way over to me. I stood and greeted him, and shook his
hand. He said that he had an action plan for Amy, but she
requested that I also come into his office so the doctor
could tell me of the diagnosis and findings first-hand. He
said that Amy rather I hear everything from him instead of
her, for fear that she may butcher some of the information.
"That young lady really cares about you," Dr. Humala told
me as I followed him into the aforementioned office.
Over the course of the next 20 minutes, I learned that
Dr. Humala believed that Amy suffered from two different
mental disorders. The first I had already suspected, and
even made mention of in prior chapters of this very story.
The second disorder? I was easily able to associate Amy
with it, but I had no idea that it was listed as and
considered an actual mental health disorder.
First, Dr. Humala explained that he believed Amy was
suffering from cyclothymia. A lesser, more milder version
of bipolar disorder, cyclothymia is characterized by various
and sudden mood disturbances. Its root cause, like most
depression types, was unknown, Dr. Humala told us, and less
than one percent of the U.S. population was impacted by it.
Amy also went through bouts of hypomania, he explained,
which was tied into her cyclothymia. While in a hypomanic
state, an affected individual can be quite energetic,
outspoken and full of confidence. It can cause a person to
become reckless and careless; so much so, that the effects
may have irreversible consequences in the long-term. I
had caught a few glimpses of Amy in such a state before;
none more so than during her initial day on the island when
her emotions bounced around like a yo-yo.
The physician elaborated that he believed, under the right
circumstances, Amy could go from a hypomanic episode to
feeling severely depressed at the drop of a pin. She could
be floating high in the sky one minute, then come crashing
down just a short time later with no apparent trigger as to
why. Individuals with this sickness do not need a reason,
or a trigger, for their moods to fluctuate so violently.
This was obviously not healthy, he told us, and could worsen
over time and lead to the much more severe and dangerous
bipolar disorder if not properly treated.
Dr. Humala linked Amy's cyclothymia and hypomania into
one, saying he believed that was her first disorder. The
other? Amy was a nymphomaniac. Yes, nymphomania was
actually considered a mental health disorder. Oddly enough,
I would have never guessed that in a million years.
The technical term he used was hyper-sexuality, but it
meant the same thing. Amy had sudden sexual urges and felt
the need to act on them as often as she could. The problem,
Dr. Humala said, was that several of those sexual urges were
actually unwanted. Amy _did not want_ to act on some of
those feelings, but felt compelled to anyway as if some
unseen entity was _forcing_ her to do so.
The good doctor looked at his notes and gave me an example.
"Miss [Last Name], when in her homeland of Ohio, gets together
with five black men every Saturday afternoon and engages in
full, non-protected intercourse with all of them at once,
despite the fact that she does not care about them and nor
she believes they care about her."
Amy lowered her head and covered her face in shame as the
doctor continued, "Yet this is a ritual for Miss [Last Name],
and she feels overly compelled each Saturday to see it through
no matter the ramifications - short-term or long-term."
It was one thing to hear something like this from
Kristanna, who was good at judging others and had made eerily
similar assumptions about Amy in the recent past. But it was
something different to hear it from a licensed health
provider such as Dr. Humala. It was downright scary.
So much so, in fact, that I found myself holding hands
with Amy between chairs as we sat side-by-side in the office.
It was a poor substitute for what I really wanted, which was
to pull Amy into my lap and embrace her, or _protect_ her,
and give her assurances that all was fine and there was
nothing for her to feel ashamed about. Unfortunately, this
examination room was not the proper place to do such a thing.
The good news, Dr. Humala told us, was that everything
that troubled Amy was treatable with the right medication.
It would not cure her problems or make them go away forever.
Rather, the medication would level her emotions out, and
help keep her on more of a steady playing field.
Dr. Humala gave Amy a three week sample supply of an
anti-depressant called _Lexapro_ and told her that she was
to start taking it immediately. I asked for more details
on the drug; he called it a selective serotonin reuptake
inhibitor (SSRI for short) that regulates chemicals in the
brain which cause a person to become unbalanced, anxious
and/or depressed. Dr. Humala said that not only would it
combat and relieve her symptoms of cyclothymia, but also
her hyper-sexuality. Given time and if taken properly,
_Lexapro_ would ultimately cause Amy to feel much better
and be in much better control of her emotions.
One thing that Amy definitely did not like, though, was
when Dr. Humala told her that she was to lay off any and
alcohol from this point forward. Alcohol was not healthy
either, he said, and had contributed to many of her more
extreme bouts of hyper-sexuality in the past.
Before leaving the office, I needed clarification from
the doctor on a couple of things. Mostly, I began to clue
him in about the island and the group of ladies who were
there now, and the open, free-spirited atmosphere that
prevailed. Before I could get much more detailed, however,
Dr. Humala reminded me that he had spoken to Amy for over
two hours before I was asked to join them. She had already
told him about the island and what was going on there.
Dr. Humala said he believed it was okay for Amy to
continue to have sex and enjoy herself on the island, as
long as the atmosphere was controlled and safe, but more
importantly, the person(s) she became intimate with truly
and undoubtedly cared about her. Dr. Humala did not want
Amy to participate in any more _one night stands_, per se,
where there were no emotions involved whatsoever.
"It is vitally important to Miss [Last Name] that she
continue to participate in the daily activities you have
set forth on your island," he spoke to me in closing. "It
is also very important to her that she be allowed to
continue to develop and foster her relationship with you."
* * *
"Look at me, Jeremy!" Amy whined in mock, playful disgust,
her once-perfect hairstyle now flopping about in the wind as
she and I sat next to an open window in the back of the
helicopter. "Look at me... I'm a druggie!"
Amy was holding up the sample box of medication that Dr.
Humala had given to her. It was 3:45pm, and we were on our
way home to the island. Amy had strongly opposed the idea
of seeing a psychiatrist ever since I first brought up the
idea some three weeks ago. Today, though, she seemed to be
in good spirits following her medical evaluation.
I was proud of Amy, and even quite happy to boot. She
went into the evaluation with an open mind and gave the
doctor very poignant and honest information. Amy walked
away from it with a positive attitude and a renewed sense
of hope for the future, although she was still quite unhappy
about the sudden moratorium on alcohol intake.
"That's a good type of drug, though," I retorted, pointing
toward the box of medication, my voice loud and bellowing
because of the intense sound of the whipping wind and the
chopper blades as we buzzed along no more than 20 feet over
top of the ocean and its rushing currents below.
"I want you to help me with this medicine," Amy requested.
"Please, Jeremy. I want you to make sure that I take it at
seven o'clock every single evening. Without your help, I
know there will be times that I forget. The doctor said I
cannot miss any doses, or the medicine will do me no good."
Amy shook her head and added, "I've never taken any
prescriptions like this before. I'm not used to doing it.
I'm going to need your help; you'll need to remind me."
"I'll see to it that you take your medicine every night
at seven o'clock from now on," was my promise to her.
Amy and I originally had plans of getting some lunch and
then checking out some of the sights and places to shop in
Miraflores and the rest of Lima. But we stayed longer at
the doctor than either of us had anticipated, and afterward
Amy claimed that she was tired and simply wanted to get back
to the island. Honestly, I could not argue with her. It
had been quite a long day.
We did, however, decide to stop at a quaint, little
sandwich shop near the beach and grab a quick bite to eat. I
felt a certain, unmistakable sense of ease having lunch with
Amy on the outdoor patio of the restaurant, as the friendly
townsfolk - men, women and children alike - passed us by.
The idle chatter we shared was silly, and some of it was
even mindless, but I found myself enjoying every single
moment of it regardless.
I then realized that I was starting to look at Amy in an
entirely different light. The sweet, wonderful woman who I
felt had been forever trapped underneath that once rough,
jagged exterior (Amy's _shield_, I liked to call it) had
finally broken through and was making her presence known.
As I sat at the circular table and finished the last of
my sandwich, I listened to Amy convey a funny, little story
about a trip to the grocery store she experienced just days
before coming to the island. I simply watched her as she
cooed and cavorted, sudden smiles flashing across her face,
mixed in with some playful grunts and even a few tiny pouts.
Amy was becoming quite outgoing and amicable. Right now,
I thought inwardly, she was a person that others would most
assuredly gravitate toward and love to have as a part of
their lives. Men would line up for blocks all around,
literally begging for a single opportunity to meet and
impress this vibrant, beautiful lady. Add in the medicine,
which would only help her as time went by, and the future
was bright for Amy. It was absolutely limitless.
Dare I say it, but Amy had never been more appealing to
me than she was at this precise moment in time. As we sat
across from each other at the sandwich shop, Amy's entire
focus was on _me_ and the silly, little story about her trip
to the supermarket. Nothing else in the world even mattered.
Finding myself in such a position, oddly enough, I suddenly
felt as if I was the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.
I was having such a wonderful time by simply being graced
with the mere presence of Amy.
I contacted Kevin, the commercial helicopter pilot who
had been a friend of mine for 15 years, and told him we were
ready to return to the island. Amy and I met up with him at
an airstrip about 20 minutes later. I paid him the usual fee
(with a hefty tip included), and soon we were skyward.
"Thank you," Amy eventually said in the helicopter, wiping
away a single tear which streaked down her enchanting, lovely
face. "Thank you, Jeremy, for putting so much care and
effort into me and my well-being."
Amy took a deep breath, then appeared to be on the verge
of breaking down and crying. "You've done more for me in the
past four weeks than anyone else ever has in my whole, entire
li-life. I... I feel much closer to you... than anyone I
ever have before. Jeremy, I... I... I'm in l-lo..." Try as
she might, but Amy could not finish her thought nor the
sentence. Her voice simply faded away in mid-word.
Thus, I brought Amy into my arms and held her. And as
if on cue, she put her face on my shoulder and began to sob.
"Shhhhh," I hushed her, my lips close to her ear. "Shhhhh,
honey... calm down. Just calm down. I'm only doing what
needs to be done - and that is to take care of you."
"HEY JEREMY!" came Kevin's scream from the front of the
helicopter. "Is that gal gonna turn out to be the bride
you've been searching all these many years for?"
Once those words registered in my mind and were able to
sink in completely, my eyeballs literally bulged outward from
their sockets and I glanced toward the front of the aircraft.
Kevin had been watching us through a mirror in the pilot area,
and had the biggest, toothiest grin upon his face as a result.
"You two seem like quite the couple!" he observed. "Bet
you and her would have some fine-lookin' kids together, too!"
Not up to date with the happenings on the island over the
past month, all Kevin had to go on was what he saw in his
chopper. Still, I was dumbfounded and temporarily speechless.
His assumption was totally wild and far-fetched, and obviously
nowhere close to being reality...