Gigolo

A behavior no doubt enforced by her abuser. Cyr's mission was to supplant Joe in her mind, in her life, and supplying sex for her boyfriend in the morning was what she had been doing for who knows how long. Cyr was very tender, which seemed something to which Amy was unaccustomed. As was his going down on her and giving her orgasms after she initiated his.

It was Thursday, and having rallied, Amy insisted she had to go to work. Cyr had surreptitiously been checking out the area -- no Joe -- and, after he made her breakfast, Cyr dropped her at her office. Then went to the gym and punished himself with the weights and on the elliptical. Thinking of her, her safety, and remembering their sex the night before.

Amy had seemed normal when he picked her up from work -- evidently the familiar routine had centered her -- and he suggested that she change clothes before he'd take her out to dinner. Cyr eyed the surrounding area as they walked to her apartment door. He was still leery, concerned that Joe might be lurking, and, as he was big and likely not yet drunk, he would be more formidable than before.

No Joe.

Until they were in Amy's apartment. Cyr had insisted on entering first, and, being wary, caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. His immediate forward dive caused the baseball bat to just graze his shoulder rather than crush his skull. He immediately rolled to the side to avoid the next crash of the bat onto the floor where he'd just been. Cyr continued his roll up onto his feet and leapt back, avoiding the next swing of the bat.

As he and Joe commenced to dance, Cyr flashed on sensei Krug's advice. Basically, keep out of range. Until you don't. Though he wasn't wearing his black belt, Cyr always carried the skillset, and after eliciting three swings by feigning attacks, he knew exactly how much time he'd have. Just enough. Before unleashing each swing, Joe drew the bat back a bit further, cocking his shoulders, and when Cyr saw that hitch in his swing for the fourth time, he was on him instantly.

The bat clattered onto the hard floor just before Cyr drove Joe's face into it. As the Gracie jiu jitsu choke made Joe see stars, Cyr told him the legal truth, low and hard, "All I need to justify killing you is to feel that my life, or Amy's, is in danger. You've already attacked me -- I'll have a bruise as proof -- so back off now. Or you'll die."

Just before he lost consciousness Joe capitulated.

As he slinked away, Cyr had rushed to Amy. She was terrified, and Cyr held her on the couch, comforting her. As she calmed down, she also unzipped his pants, took out his penis, got it hard with her mouth, pulled her pants down and guided him into her. Cyr knew that the psychological transference of her dependence on Joe to him had been completed. She was thanking him for protecting her, offering a quid pro quo in the only way she knew. To cement the necessary transference, Cyr took her offering.

Amy had been quiet and withdrawn during the drive, leaning close to Cyr and snuggling to him for comfort. He carried her bag into the Institute, saw her through the check-in process, assured her she'd see him again that very night, then led her to the infirmary for the medical exam. After which she'd meet with a staff psychologist, who would begin the process of helping Amy work through the dependence that she'd switched from Joe to Cyr.

The next morning Cyr went to the dojo for his twice-weekly session with sensei Krug, then to the dance studio. When done, Cyr reported in. His boss made notes about what had transpired with Amy, then informed Cyr that he still did not have a new assignment for him from the helpline. He was to continue scouting public places for women in need. As he had Wednesday night at the Mediterranean Club.

As he talked with his boss, Cyr remembered his first encounter with him four years before. How Allan's first sentence had been so intriguing.

**

"You almost had her."

Cyr looked to his left, at the dapper mid-50s man sitting two stools away at the bar. Cyr was disappointed at being rejected and didn't feel like talking. He looked straight ahead and took a sip of his Manhattan.

"You were so close, but blew it just at the end."

Cyr was not pleased that the man was being so persistent. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and I'm really not interested in conversation."

"If you hadn't made that one, critical mistake, you'd be with her now. You had her, young man. She was ready to be taken, ripe for the plucking. But you blew it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I was watching as you attempted to seduce that woman. You have gifts, young man, and though she is way out of your league, if you hadn't made that crucial mistake, you'd be on the way to her place now. To have sex. She was SO ready."

Cyr recoiled, stung. He considered himself a very savvy seducer of women, had a very high winning percentage to prove it, and had been convinced he would succeed tonight. He'd felt that his wooing of the woman -- a wealthy, beautiful cougar who'd been cruising, looking for action and who promised to be a lot of fun -- had been going well. He had been mystified when she suddenly just got up and left.

He sighed. Maybe this guy did know something. "OK, so what was this 'crucial mistake' I made?"

"First, you did so many things right. Your approach was perfect: eye contact, an intriguing little smile, and whatever your first line was, it definitely piqued her interest. Then you drew her out, asking questions and actually paying attention to her answers. The way you subtly brushed her hand several times and leaned closer to make comments on her conversation was all very good. All in accordance with my seduction rules. As I said, you had her hooked."

"OK, so how did I screw it up?"

"I will tell you, but first you need to know something about me. My name is Allan Roth and I used to be what's called a gigolo. I made my living seducing and pleasing women. I did it for 30 years, and I'm very good at it."

Cyr stared at the man in disbelief. Sure, he was handsome, rather like David Niven at his most dapper, but when Cyr's high school counselors had discussed possible careers, gigolo was not mentioned. Regardless, Cyr was intrigued and found he liked the fellow. Perhaps this evening would not be a total loss. "So you are an expert at seduction? I'm Cyr, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, Cyr. I am indeed a master of seduction. To be successful in my chosen field required great expertise." The man chuckled.

"I'd be interested in hearing more." Cyr was truly intrigued.

"I've even developed rules for how to seduce a woman, based on my years of success."

Seduction rules, thought Cyr. He found he wanted a copy of those rules. A lot. "Please tell me more."

"I'll tell you what, Cyr. Come see me at my office tomorrow at 10. Here's my card. We'll talk and I will make you a proposition that I believe you will not be able to refuse."

Cyr had made the meeting, they had talked for a long time, and then Allan had told him he'd like him to meet a friend. They walked across the street to a dance studio, and Cyr was immediately attracted to the gorgeous instructor, Rebecca Ceala. Allan had mentioned that expertise on the dance floor was an essential seduction skill, and informed Cyr that Rebecca would assess both his present level of competence and his potential. After which Cyr was to come back to Allan's office.

When he did, Allan's secretary had him wait in the anteroom. It stretched to 15 minutes before Allan appeared, apologized for the delay and held the door for Rebecca as she exited.

Once seated in his office, Allan began obliquely. "Cyr, can you imagine if Bobby Fischer had never played chess? If Tiger Woods had become a CPA? Or Arthur Rubinstein a plumber?"

Cyr laughed. He was very relaxed after his encounter with Rebecca. "Well, it would have been a shame for the world to be denied their talent and accomplishments. A waste of their gifts."

"Precisely. In a similar vein, it would be a crime for you not to hone and utilize your gifts."

"My gifts?"

"You have many, but the essential one is what I'll call 'it.' That certain something. As I observed last night at the bar, when you enter a room, people become aware of you. I'm not sure why, but it's there. Women, especially. Sure, you're tall, ripped, suave and handsome, but there's much more than that. You're already at 3rd base with those women as soon as they see you."

Cyr felt flattered, but dubious. "I think you're exaggerating."

"Not at all. You almost had that woman yesterday in the bar. And she is way out of your league. Rich, beautiful, sophisticated, and always able to have her pick of any number of studs. You shouldn't have had a chance, but you had her. Just messed it up, squandered it by making that silly mistake. As I said last night."

"What was it? I did sense that I was making a connection with her, but then, all of a sudden, she shut down and left."

"So you don't even know what you did wrong?"

"No clue. Everything seemed fine, and..."

"God! What a waste!" Allan paused, ruefully shaking his head. "OK; what were you doing, right before it went awry?"

"We were sitting very close, and I was looking at her face. She's very attractive, and..."

"Cyr, you have to understand what you did. Looking at a woman, so intently, from so close, impinges on her personal space. It does for anyone. But it can be useful, and was working. It put her on edge, a good, erotic edge. It made her a bit nervous, and disrupted her self-assurance, her composure. She was suddenly more vulnerable, ready to be plucked, but you blew it."

"How? I didn't do anything..."

"Precisely! You didn't see the flicker in her eyes that should have told you to stop, to back off. Your violation of her space had become threatening, no longer arousing."

"Man, I totally missed that! Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. If you had pulled your eyes away, let your body language indicate your regret at being so forward, too aggressive, it would have worked out."

"And you saw that in her eyes?"

"Exactly. You must understand. When seducing a woman, you need to constantly be gently pushing, probing, seeking vulnerabilities, but always following up your aggression with retreat. For instance, imagine if you had pulled your eyes away, let your body sag a bit indicating your regret at your transgression, and apologized for being so forward. Said, 'Jane, I'm sorry I stared at you so intently, but you are so very, very beautiful, so alluring that...' Then you'd give a little chuckle, a self-deprecating laugh, and continue, 'So you see, it's really your fault. I just couldn't help myself.' If you'd done and said that, she would have taken you home and fucked you silly."

"You seem awfully sure. Really?"

"Before I got this job, became the CEO and Lead Operative of the Institute for Abused Women, I used to live with the women I seduced. I had to be good. They supported me in high style, keeping me well-fed and happy. I've made a science of seducing and pleasing women. So, yes, I'm certain. And, once you had her in bed you could have used your other God-given gift."

"What's that?"

"Everything today was a test, Cyr. You passed with flying colors. I'm about to offer you a job, an important and very lucrative job, but first, how did you like your dancing lesson?"

"OMG! Rebecca is fabulous! I learned so much."

"And not just about dancing. She said you picked up her cunnilingus coaching very nicely."

Cyr fell silent in shock. How did Allan know?


"Rebecca is my long-time dance partner. And more. In the old days, she would give me legitimacy to attend high society affairs where I did my trolling. We're very close, and she agreed to, well, put you through your paces."

"So she told you what we did?"

"Of course, and I watched on her closed circuit TV. I'd mentioned your talent to her. She confirmed that you have that certain something."

"Wow. I had no idea..."

"She also confirmed that you improved your pussy licking technique markedly. Which she was most happy about, incidentally. She told me that, as with dancing, you have a real talent for cunnilingus."

"She is a very beautiful woman."

"She also commented on your other gift."


"What?"

"Your cock, Cyr. Surely you know that it's exceptionally large, right?"

"Well, I guess..."

"Don't be modest, my boy. Rebecca told me it's truly exceptional, both in length and girth. It will be a very useful asset in your life. Every person who sees it, regardless of age or gender, will find it notable. Women especially will be moved. It will prompt fantasies. And those who feel it inside them, spreading them wider than ever before, feel it prodding their cervixes as you push in all the way, those women will always remember it, and you, every single time they have sex thereafter. All other men will suffer in comparison."

"Wow! I guess I knew I was hung, but..."

"Rebecca said that you used it adequately. She had several additional orgasms just based on its girth."


"I'm happy that I was able to satisfy her..."

"Don't be smug. She also said you were quite a selfish lover, that you came far too quickly, and didn't make much of an effort at aftercare whatsoever. Not an impressive account."

"Shit! Really?"

"Yes. But, cheer up. If you accept my proposition and replace me as Lead Operative for IFAW, you'll have many more lessons with Rebecca, in dancing, culture and sex. She'll teach you technique, romance, sophistication, everything you need to know, so that, once you've seduced a woman, she will be so enthralled that she will be yours as long as you want her."

**

Tap, tap. Click.

Cyr's reflection on his first encounter with Allan was interrupted by Nurse Sweet knocking and re-entering the room. It was time for phase 2 of Cyr's treatment. She went directly to the ultrasound monitor, switched it on, then walked around and stopped beside Cyr's bed. The fingers of one hand locked on the catheter, the others closed on his cock.

Vanessa eyed the monitor as she began easing the probe up, just a bit. Her hand left it, went to the dial on the catheter's control panel and turned it up. Cyr winced as the first, slightly more intense electric shock pulsed in his penis. Then he consciously contracted his bulbospongiosus muscle.

During Cyr's ejaculations, it propels semen up his shaft once the urethral bulb's spasms have begun ejecting it. As the muscle runs from his perineum to where his penis emerges from his abdomen, the nurse had to station the tip of the probe successively all along its length, allowing the entire muscle to be exercised.

The protocol was for Cyr to contract his muscle as if squeezing the catheter during each of the ten pulses at the base near his perineum. Then the nurse would move the catheter up half a centimeter. After ten more shocks and contractions, she'd move it up again. And so on. His penis pulsed each time his cock was shocked and Cyr tightened the muscle, which pushed copious amounts of the Cowper's glands' clear fluid out his urethral opening.

Held in Vanessa's left hand, Cyr's cock began oozing pre-cum.

This treatment session was the first one done by Nurse Sweet. Usually Nurse Krebs, who unlike Vanessa was old, crone-like and asexual, did the honors, but today she had been unavailable. And Cyr could tell that Vanessa -- mid-to-late twenties; silky long red hair that cascaded down past her sizable, succulent breasts; and dark-amber entrancing eyes -- was affected by what she was doing. Perhaps it was unconscious, but her fingers tightened on Cyr's cock each time it jumped in her hand, and Cyr was acutely aware of how her lovely pale face began to flush, her breathing to quicken, and how she began to lightly chew her temptingly full lower lip.

Once the probe reached the top of his bulbospongiosus muscle, the protocol was for it to be reinserted down to the root once again. After Nurse Sweet made that adjustment, she flipped the switch that changed everything. Instead of the pulse occurring just at its tip, the shock now migrated up the length of the probe. Cyr contracted his muscle sequentially, chasing the tingle as the stimulation travelled up his penis. His muscle rippled just as it did during ejaculation.

More of his Cowper's glands' clear fluid oozed out with each repetition, and Vanessa, amber eyes gleaming, began wiping it away with her thumb. Soon she was rubbing the head of Cyr's cock, spreading it all around. When she also began to subtly stroke his penis, sliding her hand down just as the contractions caused it to swell up, Cyr began to get ideas.

The combination of Vanessa's obvious arousal, her alluring sensual beauty, and her choice to play with his cock, was very stimulating and Cyr had to bifurcate his attention. One part of his brain continued to contract his bulbospongiosus muscle on cue, while the other, increasingly large part of his consciousness was needed to calm his bulb.

When Vanessa began emitting approving little, "Umhum, umhum, umhums," and glancing at Cyr to read his reaction every time she stroked his cock, it became obvious that Vanessa, fascinated with the penis in her hand and enjoying her power over her patient, wanted to make Cyr ejaculate.

That was not protocol.

Nor was how Vanessa's hands suddenly abandoned his penis for just the second required for her to pull her scrub top up and lift her breasts out of the alluring black-lace balconette bra. Cyr shuddered, both from the feel of her fingers again on his cock and the sight of her tantalizing tits.

He could almost feel their softness just by looking. They hung temptingly down over the top of the black lace, showing off the largest and most intriguing areolae he'd ever seen. Luscious ovals, a deep brownish-red that perfectly complemented her hair. Her nipples, too, were unique and entrancing. Large, free-form, eminently suckable. Cyr clenched his arm muscles to restrain his eager hands from seizing them.

As the sweat began running down his brow from the effort required to maintain his internal governor, Cyr's eyes flitted from Vanessa's avid, rosy, aroused face, to her tempting breasts, then to the timer which would signal the end of the session. Then locked on her tits. Cyr struggled, tensing all his muscles and gritting his teeth to hold back the pool of semen pulsing through his system, inflating his urethral bulb.

Vanessa increased the pace of her stroking and thumbing, now blatantly trying to make Cyr come to her command. Though his entire conscious mind was now focused entirely on stilling his system, he was aware that his subconscious mind was plotting, planning how he would fuck Vanessa. If he could win their contest and avoid coming to her caresses. Cyr gritted his teeth harder.

The timer finally going off signaling the end of the session startled Vanessa. She shuddered as if awaking from a dream, blinked four times, and assumed her medical professional mode once again. She just held Cyr's penis still as she eased the probe out of it, used a tissue to wipe up excess lube and all the copious pre-cum from the head of the cock in her hand, then walked around the bed to turn off the ultrasound monitor and electrode.

Acutely aware of possibly being observed, Cyr quickly stood, closed and belted the robe he'd donned for the procedure, reached up and unplugged the CCTV camera. Then locked the door.

Vanessa had her back to him as she turned off the medical machinery. Cyr slid behind her, close, and wrapped his left arm around her just under those wonderful bared breasts. Vanessa gasped and shuddered, but didn't protest. Neither when one hand captured a boob, nor when the other snaked inside the waist of her scrubs, inside her panties.