Doctor's Orders

One hand was placed on her hip, fist clenched, with her elbow out, in the manner of angry parent, perhaps. The other was held like a waiter's, with the palm open, holding a bowl of chocolate ice cream. This struck him as curious, but he didn't say anything because of the serious look in her face. She wore a black mask over her eyes, with holes cut out so that she could see. It wasn't a cheap Halloween mask, either, but a leather one that obviously cost some money.

She repeated, "You will kneel before me...now!" Last week Jeckyll, this week Hyde? He knelt. She stepped closer, so that her pubic mound brushed against his nose. He could smell her wonderful scent, her juices adhering to his nose. She stepped back and placed the bowl of ice cream in front of him. "Look down." He did. "That is where you will cum." Hmmm. "Pull down your shorts and underwear, and begin stroking yourself!" He did. "Do not cum until I return." Huh? She was back rather quickly, with a video camera. Great. He finally came, and it seemed like the semen factory must have been doing its job lately. It was hard maintaining his balance and aiming his jism, and the ice cream began to look like a photo negative of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Sort of. "Sit against the wall!" He did.

She put the recorder down, and picked up the bowl of ice cream. She took a spoon and slowly shaved a small amount of ice cream, with a lot of cum. She moved it to her mouth, then stopped. She passed it several times under her nose, smelling it, and then she replaced the spoon in the bowl and handed it to him. She picked up the camcorder, used her boot to spread his legs, and then leaned forward with one foot, the sole against his cock, the heel threatening his balls as she slowly twisted her foot.

"Eat...the...ice...CREAM!" His cock raged to life, and he didn't even want to think of the reasons. Despite liking the taste of pre- cum, he had told her some months ago that he didn't really want to eat his cum anymore, despite the turn-on that it was for her. He realized the lie. And Hayley knew it, playfully grinding his cock as he took the first bite. With the camera, the feel of her boot on his cock, the heady sense of eating cum (with chocolate ice cream, of all things...), and the sight of his dominating, naked wife standing above him, with a finger rubbing her clit, he ate the ice cream, and the cum, greedily. She somehow made herself climax, standing, which he had never seen before. When he had finished the "cream," she stopped the camcorder, turned and walked away, without saying anything. That was beginning to be her trademark...

He recorded this on the calendar. An "event" almost every week, but on different weekdays, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Something was wrong here, but at least now he had a place to start looking.

While she was asleep, Steven removed her checkbook from her purse to see where she had been writing checks. Gardening store, dry cleaners, Wal-Mart, drug store, grocery store. They didn't sell boots and gloves like that at Wal-Mart. He went to her desk and removed her credit card bills. The most recent bill she had just received, and he quickly found two charges to x-items.com. He booted the computer, logged onto the net, and checked the site. Adult novelties. At least she wasn't going into seedy stores around town. He couldn't help but give a thorough look into their products, just for fun.

He began to wonder how she had found that site. It wouldn't be too hard to type in a few keywords in a search engine and find it, he supposed, but there was a part of him, a jealous part, he admitted, that wondered if wasn't someone else behind her recent change. The irregular regularity of her sexual throes had started much sooner than the purchases, so he looked at the previous month's bill for anything unusual. Clothes stores, a few restaurants, chiropractor visits. The two preceding months were much the same. The chiropractor seemed to be doing pretty well, with several visits per month. Their insurance didn't cover the visits, and he more or less had given her the responsibility of paying for her visits. She hadn't been complaining about her back lately, so he had guessed it was working.

A thought occurred to him. Without having to pay the bills for her visits, he hadn't realized how often she had been going to the chiropractor. He carried her receipts to his desk, found his calendar in which he had been taking notes, and started comparing the dates.

He was sure that checking each number in a winning lottery ticket would be more thrilling, but the succession of dates matching perfectly at first seemed coincidence, then an exciting discovery, then shocked realization. She had been to the chiropractor on each of the dates he had recorded, or the day before. He feared the worst. An affair seemed the only possible answer to explain Hayley's heightened sexuality.

The following days were a torment. Each appointment had been on a weekday, when he was at work. It was impossible for him to follow her around every day, and she didn't write her appointments on the calendar. He tried to ask what she was doing each day, without sounding pushy or mistrustful, but he didn't hear a word about the chiropractor. Her part-time job included working half days several days each week, and it was before or after her job, likely, that she would find it most convenient to go to the doctor.

He cursed his stupidity. After she went to bed, he ransacked her purse, and unearthed what he was looking for, in the change pouch. An appointment reminder. He should have thought about this sooner, and avoided the anguish. Her next appointment was in 5 days, on Tuesday, at 8:00 in the morning, at Dr. Richard Gilliam's. He had seen his name on the credit card bill, but finally he was forced to name his apparent enemy, and it twisted in his thoughts like a black downward spiral into which he vented all his rage. Dr. Gilliam. As the days came closer to her appointment, he became frustrated as to how he was to find out what was going on. Challenge her? Accuse her? Of what? If Dr. Gilliam...The name escaped his lips as would an expletive that he didn't want anyone to hear... was behind this, the result, from his perspective, was that he was receiving a tremendous benefit, but he couldn't enjoy it if it meant that she was having sex with him. A troubling thought flashed through his head that, perhaps, he could still enjoy her. He didn't pursue the thought.

At work on Monday, in his search for a yellow highlighter in the office supply cabinet, his eye caught hold of a small box, and then he found the proverbial lightbulb flashing above his head. Tuesday morning, he remained around the house later than usual, with the lie that he had an appointment away from the office. Hayley left the house at 7:30, and he only hoped that his plan would work.

When he returned home that afternoon, his wife was napping, which wasn't unusual for those days she worked. Or, maybe she wasn't napping. Maybe she was masturbating with the memory of her visit with Dr. Gilliam. That sour thought led him to her purse, where he retrieved a small Dictaphone from an outside pocket that she apparently didn't use except for stuffing trash papers. He was happy to find it. It had occurred to him that the tape probably made an audible "click" when it reached its end. If she heard it, and found the unit, he would have some explaining to do. Which maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, anyway. Still, he preferred it this way. He took the Dictaphone to the garage, where he could play it without being heard. If she woke up, he would hear her steps on the floor above, where their bedroom was located.

He had been frustrated all day by the fact that a simple, good plan could easily unravel. He had waited around the house in the morning so that he could start the tape as close as possible to when she left. He caught a break when she went to the bathroom just before she was to leave, and he had quickly inserted the recorder in the pouch. It would record for two hours, so giving her a half hour of travel, the inevitable doctor's office wait, the wait in whatever type of room he used, and the actual appointment, he had felt he had a good chance to record her entire appointment. After all, how long does a chiropractic appointment take? No more than 30 minutes when he followed her. But he didn't know. He'd never been. It might take longer if she was screwing...He stopped that thought. He rewound the tape approximately 75%, figuring he would avoid the car ride portion. He hit the "play" button, with the hope that it had been able to record decently through the fabric of her purse.

The car radio. He had rewound too far, but at least it sounded clear. Fast forward. "...one appointment ahead of you." Good, the tape should be long enough. Fast forward. The sound of magazine pages. Fast forward. The sound of laughing, then, "the doctor will be with you in just a few minutes."

It started very professionally.

"Good morning, Hayley. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks, I've had a good week. And you?"

"Sometimes I think that my days are too long, but it's a good problem to have. There's a lot of starving chiropractors out there. Not that they're bad, of course, but there's just too many for the area. How's the back, getting better?"

"Yes, I think so, but after 4-6 days after my visits with you, my neck and back still gets stiff, and, usually in the mornings, I have that stabbing pain between my shoulder blades that goes away after a couple of hours."

"Same old story. Well, let me take another look at your x- rays to make sure that the Atlas adjustments I've been making are proper. For most people, 3 months of treatment is the maximum before I've done all that I can do, and they almost always don't need any more adjustments unless they're in an accident or exert themselves unusually. You've been coming here pretty regularly, for a little longer than that. Have you seen this video?"

"Uh, no."

"Okay, why don't you watch this while I go check the film. It gives some history on Chiropractic, problems with the spine and some of the things we do to correct it."

Steven heard the tape being pushed into the player, the sound of the TV being turned on, and the door being closed. Good, he thought to himself, no affair. But the dates matching perfectly were beyond matters of chance. He continued listening as the tape explained Chiropractic. He heard most of it very clearly and even learned a few things. The videotape concluded and rewound. Dr. Gilliam, the name no longer a metaphor of evil, re-entered the room.

"How was the tape?"

"What tape?"

What Steven heard afterwards chilled him.

When he entered the kitchen, the surprise that greeted him didn't surprise him. His wife was standing in the informal dining area, which had a glass door built into a bay window, which leads to the rear deck. She was wearing a short T-shirt that was pulled above her breasts, and her breasts were pressed against the glass. She was working a dildo in her cunt, a wide and long dildo, but made of ice. He had been in the garage maybe 45 minutes, replaying the tape, and based on the water dripping from the dildo and pooling on the floor, she had apparently been at this a while. What's a husband to do?

He fucked her standing up, her hands against the doorframe, feeling a biting mix of cold and heat as he plunged within her. As he fucked her, he noticed they were being watched. Their neighbor, again, on his deck, staring through the trees. He apparently there to water his plants, but, instead, he was rubbing his crotch. Steven guided Hayley's head to the right, and he could tell she was confused. He tightened his grip on her pelvis, and thrust hard and fast within her, cumming just as she recognized their voyeur. She made an unusual squeaking sound before sliding his cock out of her cunt and all but running from the door, then upstairs. Steven picked up what remained of the ice dildo from the floor and quickly walked it to the sink. Like Hayley, he didn't want to see their neighbor, either.

Two days later, he had a chiropractic appointment. Without the least bit of surprise, Dr. Gilliam was good looking, with soap opera type looks - tan, graying at the temples, not a real doctor, just playing one on TV... Steven fought to continue the role of patient. He told him that he had woken up several days earlier with a "crick" in his neck, but unlike others, it didn't seem to go away. The doctor asked a standard variety of questions, marking a checklist on his clipboard. Steven almost missed it, but Dr. Gilliam was using a red ink pen. So Hayley probably hadn't written the messages on herself, after all. It made some sort of perverted sense.

Dr. Gilliam indicated that he would need x-rays to provide the proper adjustments, and they proceeded with that. The doctor then had Steven sit in the examination room, including little more than a padded table, a chair, a small counter space, some posters, and a TV/VCR. The doctor then suggested he watch a video about Chiropractic while the x-rays were developed and he saw another patient. Uh-huh. Sure.

He inserted the video, and Steven closed his eyes. He already had heard the video, thanks, and he had no intention of watching it. After it was over, the door was closed, and he quickly looked in the cabinet below the VCR to see what other movies were there. There was only one, about spinal construction. The label was very similar to the one in the VCR, so he swapped it and placed the video the doctor had shown him in his inside jacket pocket, which was hanging from a chair.

More than a few minutes later, the doctor returned and invited him to a viewing room to review his x-rays. Dr. Gilliam pointed out how his neck was unusually straight and that, as he aged, how the vertebrae were likely to become fused to a degree and painful. Steven actually hadn't made up the neck story; it just didn't hurt now. Maybe a couple of months ago. The doctor explained how several months of adjustments, moving this vertebrae this way and another that way, should work well to keep everything the way it was meant to be.

He took Steven to another room, which had a strange device with an arm that stood by a padded table. He asked if Steven had understood the video.

"Video?" He looked confused. There was an uncomfortable pause. Hopefully, this would work. "Tell me, how has your sex life been lately?" Steven looked straight ahead, with minimal movement, not sure how he was to play this part. He tried to copy his wife's tone. "It's been great. My wife has been acting like a nympho the past several months. She's never acted like this before." "Really, tell me about the last time." Steven told him about the ice cube dildo and the show by the back door. Dr. Gilliam chuckled, seeming quite pleased with himself. "Excellent. At our next appointment, you will bring me the videotape your wife recently made while you were eating ice cream. You will not remember anything I've said in this room when you hear me count '3.' One, two, three."

When he finished counting, Steven looked at him. Dr. Gilliam resumed, "you need to lie down on the table with your head at the far end, so I can make the first adjustment. You'll need to be..."

Steven cut him off. "I don't think so."

"Excuse me?"

Steven removed the Dictaphone from his pants pocket, and hit the PLAY button.

The doctor's voice sounded. "So tell me, what type of outfit did you choose?"

Hayley answered, "What I knew he would like. Black leather boots, black leather gloves, black leather mask."

"And you wore nothing else?"

"No."

"That would be quite a sight. Okay, two things. First, this is what I want you to do tonight. First, when you get home, take a plastic coke bottle, the 20 oz. size, and fill it about 2/3 full of water. Lay it on its side in the freezer. Tonight, sometime after your husband comes home, cut the plastic bottle away from the ice, then run water over the ice to shape a dildo, a nice fat one, maybe as thick as your wrist. Pick out a room in the house and let him find you using the dildo, with your legs spread. Do it by a window or door so that there's a chance someone will see you. I think maybe you should just wear a T-shirt this time, but pull it above your breasts. No bra. Let him fuck you. After that, you'll be embarrassed about your little exhibition, and leave to another room. After you dress, you will feel satisfied, and personally rewarded, that you were able to offer yourself to your husband this way. Then it will occur to you that sex really felt so much better after a visit to the chiropractor.

Secondly, when we begin talking again, you will tell me that you continue to be concerned that your breasts hang unevenly. You will then ask me if an adjustment can be made to make them level. My seeing, touching, and taking pictures of your breasts will seem a very appropriate part of my job. While I am doing this, you will only feel some guilt about how surprisingly good it makes you feel that someone besides your husband is touching your breasts. When I count '3,' you will not recall this conversation. One, two, three."

"Oh, I guess I forgot to get the videotape for you. So tell me, where does it hurt today?"

"Well, I'm really embarrassed to say this, but, I think my breasts are hanging unevenly. Is there an adjustment that can fix that?"

"That's not something I can capture on x-ray..."

"I know. Here, let me show you. I want your opinion." A few faint noises, obviously the sound of her blouse and bra being removed, then, "What do you think?"

"Well, I don't want to jump to conclusions. Which breast do you think is hanging lower?"

"The right one."

"Are you sitting up straight? Ah, that's better. Okay, lift your hands and touch the top of your head. A little higher. That's it, yes. Hold that position. Let me take some measurements for my file." The sound of a drawer opening and closing. "Let's see, that's just over a 38" chest. That's not unusually large, so the weight by itself is not likely to be a factor. Let's see. I'm afraid my fingers are a little cold. Hopefully you won't find this uncomfortable." There was a long silence, as presumably, he felt her breasts. "Okay, perhaps some small alterations in your spine can adjust this over time. For comparison, I'm going to need to take some photos, which we'll probably have to update every several weeks."

Steven stopped the tape. Throughout the tape, Dr. Gilliam had been having a very difficult time making eye contact, no doubt trying to think of a way out of this. He backed away a little. Maybe Steven looked dangerous. The doctor stammered for words, then began in earnest. "I must admit, you are quite the Sherlock for figuring this out. But let me explain." Yeah sure. "I have a successful practice. I paid a lot of money to purchase an existing practice after working with my predecessor for several years. He had a number of other hobbies, one of which was hypnotism. I don't understand it at all."

"There's a lot of chiropractors out there. You see their offices everywhere - in run down shopping centers, in older homes that have been commercialized because 4 lane roads run where their front yards used to be. Very few do you find that are in medical complexes or in newly constructed, stand-alone buildings like this one. There's a lot of reasons for that, but buying this practice seemed the best way of avoiding becoming one of the 'have nots.' My wife, you know, she spends as much as I can make. And I can spend pretty well myself. Club memberships, clothes, cars, the loan to pay for this place. That's where the video comes in."

"The video was made by my predecessor. The hypnotic part comes during the first couple of minutes, when people will pay the most attention. I'm a doctor, you understand. I've been to college, learned the skills, and devoted my life to Chiropractic. I believe in what I do, and that it also helps people lead more comfortable lives. At the same time, it's a challenge. Many health insurers don't pay for visits, so it's left to my customers to foot the bill. At $30, we charge a reasonable rate. The problem is, when it's their money, they only come long enough to feel better, then they skip the remaining appointments that our science says they need to help reduce symptoms now and recurrences later. Someone may need eight visits over three months. If they come twice and can resume their normal activities, they don't come back.