Insomnia

I've always had trouble sleeping, but lately it had gotten worse. I would lay awake in my bed for hours, trying to just relax enough to drift away quickly, but for whatever reason it wasn't working anymore. Hours left alone to my thoughts and many many sleepless nights had left be bleary eyed, unproductive, and restless the next day. After talking to my primary doctor about it, they had recommended I look into seeing a neurologist. I probably should have just bit the bullet and started taking sleeping pills.

I did some research around town to try and find a neurologist in network that didn't have terrible reviews online, but for the most part, I struck out. Just not my luck this round. About a month had gone by and I had resigned myself to the 2x amount of coffee I had been compensating with. As I lay sleepless one night, I decided to do another Google, just in case I had missed something in my previous attempts. To my shock a new practice had opened up. I did some research and, while it appeared to be new, folks seems like they were pleased with their experience. I found their contact form and tapped out an email, explaining my insomnia. What I hadn't been expecting was an immediate email response.

"Your case sounds very serious. Please, if you are able, come to my practice tonight. It's best for me to evaluate patients as they are having episodes of insomnia so I can observe and find a proper treatment."

The email went on to explain how to get to their clinic, it was a small operation that they ran out of their house, not something I'd expect from a neurologist, but I'm not really sure what to expect when it comes to specialized medicine.

I realized I was walking distance, so I put on my jacket, and strolled on over to the address they had given me. I should have dressed warmer, by the time I got there I was shivering and dancing from foot to foot to stay warm as I rang the doorbell.

A woman greeted me very calmly. She had thick rimmed red glasses and long wavy brown hair that went all the way down to the small of her back. I looked down at her 5ish foot tall stature and extended my hand. She gripped it firmly, confidently, and returned my gaze. I looked at her expectantly, shivering out in the cold. Her eyes lit up, almost as if she hadn't considered that it was cold outside. She quickly motioned for me to walk in.

I figured out why she had been so impervious to the temperature very soon after. Her space was very richly decorated in deep colors, lush carpeting, and dark woods. A fire roared in a fireplace opposite an armchair and a couch setup in a fashion that looked somewhere between a medical exam room and Freud's wet dream of what he wished his office looked like.

"Please sit."

I took a look around the room and towards the couch she had motioned towards and sat facing the fire, my hands extended towards the flames.

I looked back at her after I had a moment to warm up. She sat back in the arm chair, looking at me quizzically. She had a purple satin blouse that was open very very far down, almost to her naval, what appeared to be black riding pants, and brown knee high boots that had been well broken in. She smiled at me and then began with her questions.

The questions started simply, how long had I had sleep issues, forever, how much sleep I got on a typical night, about 4 hours, and how long it had been since I had last gotten a good 8 hours, 2 weeks. Then they started probing. Why did I think I couldn't sleep, no clue my brain just wouldn't shut off. They took meticulous notes on a legal pad they had picked up the moment they had started asking me questions and were writing furiously. They smiled, paused, and thought.

"What do you typically think about this late at night?"

I thought for a brief moment before replying.

"Honestly, it can be anything, work problems, social situations I need to navigate, other things, it really depends."

She bit on the top of the pen.

"Is it ever sexual in nature?"

"I guess?"

She began writing again.

"Are there ever times when you feel like you can actually shut down your thoughts?"

"Mostly I have to exhaust myself mentally, my body may be tired, but my mind keeps racing long after I want to sleep."

"So thinking to the point of exhaustion is your only method to shut down your brain?"

"I guess?"

Then came the substance questions which I answered willingly and honestly. That I didn't drink or smoke. They asked a battery of other small behavioral questions, and then stood up. She grabbed a bottle that had been sitting on the table beside her and poured a little liquid into her hands as she began to rub them together. The sting of hand sanitizer hit my nose a moment later. She crossed the room to a cabinet, placed several items onto a metal tray and returned to her chair, pulling it towards the couch.

"Now, I've asked all the questions I wanted to ask before I began my exam, would you mind if I touched you to make sure nothing is wrong with your endocrine system?"

I shook my head, only pausing slightly. Wasn't she a neurologist? Maybe I'm overthinking this.

She reached down to the metal tray and grabbed a pair of bright blue medical gloves and slid them on. They wrapped around her hands, as if slightly too tight, but silky smooth in appearance. She began running her hands around my chin, leaning over me in a way that exposed her chest in a way I found hard to ignore, she gently grabbed my head and began testing my range of motion, making me look up and of course down directly at her perfectly framed tits. It was too late for this. My heart rate sped up slightly and she pushed me away.

"Did you just?..."

I looked away from her struggling to come up with words.

"You just stared directly at my breasts?! I'm examining you and you just stare?!"

I leaned away from her and took a deep breath.

"I'm not offended, just a little shocked that you were that bold. It's not appropriate for you to be doing that. Please refrain from looking at me in that manner during this exam. It will only harm my ability to actually diagnose you."

She paused and thought for a moment, adjusting her top, so that it was slightly less revealing.

"Let's try this. I am going to raise both of my hands here and place them on either side of your vision. If you would be so kind as to tell me which of my finders is moving."

She began to wiggle her fingers and I began to indicate which were moving when. Slowly she leaned forward and her top began to plunge again, her nipples peaking out from beneath the cloth as she wiggled her fingers. I began to struggle to focus on which finger was doing what and stopped responding. She looked me up and down and frowned.

"You're doing it again."

I looked at her confused and then shook my head.

"I'm beginning to sense a trend. I think you are suffering from a very serious addiction to sex, so crippling that it is keeping you up at night. Unable to sleep or do anything at night but think of sex. I hope this isn't the case because you seem respectable, and not a degenerate pervert, but just to make sure, we are going to do a little word association. Just close your eyes and say the first word that comes to your mind."

I swallowed, centered myself on the couch, and closed my eyes. Unable to protest, only able to breathe and listen.

"Cock."

"Um, excuse me?!"

"I gave you very simple instructions. Do as you are told. I cannot help you if you resist. Once again, your word is cock."

"Um, semen?"

"Is that your answer? Are you confused?"

"No. Semen is my answer."

"Interesting. Your next word is... dominant."

"Submissive."

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Good boy. Peg."

"Deep."

Her eyes rolled back and she spoke in a different tone of voice, richer, softer, more excited. She leaned down and pressed her lips against my ear.

"Mine."

"Yours."

The word echoed in the room for a moment, our breathing both rapid. I kept my eyes shut. She placed her hand against my throat.

"Open your eyes."

I did. Nothing about her had changed physically, but there was a different energy in the room. We both felt it. She looked at me, knowing exactly what she was doing to me.

"Now, unfortunately my suspicions were correct. You're a sex obsessed pervert who can't even function properly when given perfectly normal words. You've been inappropriate since the moment you walked in and cannot control even your most passing arousal. It's a wonder you were even able to make it here to me today."

I sat there speechless. My brain looking for something to say. My speech centerers had been shorted by need.

"I need you to admit to me that you are as disgusting as you are. It's the only way for you to begin getting better. On your knees."

I slid down to the floor in a puddle. Unable to really control my motor functions. She pressed her boot in front of my mouth.

"Kiss it. Tell me you like it. I know you do."

I did as I was told, so driven by need.

"Back on the couch, you mindless animal. I need to run some more tests on you to see if I can even help you with your problem."

I climbed back up on the couch, just managing to get myself enough brain power to sit in a somewhat normal posture when she began to wrap restraints around me so I was fixed to the couch. My hands crossed behind my back, hunched over. I struggled, only half heartedly. She crossed the room to a different cabinet and retrieved a complicated looking black mass of straps, buckles, and rubber. Soon a blindfold was lowered onto my face, a gag loosely fastened into my mouth, and my neck held stiffly in place.

"Now. I have 2 more tests I must run to see how truly far gone you are. Focus on my voice. I am going to put something in front of your nose, you are going to smell it, I will loosen that gag I just put in and you will tell me what you are smelling. Is that understood."

Unable to nod, I whined into my gag. She laughed and I could feel her warmth near me as she did so. A few moments later I felt a clasp let go on my cheek and the gag dangled at the side of my face.

"Now, what is this smell."

She pressed a cloth against my face. It was pleasant, it was a citrus flavored something.

"Orange."

"Good."

Another cloth, another scent.

"Vanilla."

"Good."

I felt something soft, cool, and silky curl around my nose and face. Her hair pressing against me, her shampoo clearly smelling of flowers.

"Lavender?"

"Close enough."

Another cloth, this one sharp and tangy.

"Vinegar!"

I spat as I said it. She laughed.

"And one last one."

She pressed another cloth against my nose, this one smelled of her. She pressed them deep against my nose and made me inhale deeply.

"I'm sure you know what this smell is."

She let the cloth unfurl as she dragged her wet panties across my face, letting them rest on the bridge of my nose. She began to explore my body with her hands and slid down to my pants where she undid my zipper and began to touch me. Slowly at first, but then speeding up. She then placed a differently scented cloth on my face, something that had been covered in her shampoo.

"This is the smell of your pleasure, learn it well."

She left it pressed against my face as she worked me, hard and fast. Pressing against me as she did. Moaning in my ear in a manner that could have only been insincere, egging me on with feigned excitement. As I reached my tipping point she stopped, and pressed her panties back against my nose.

"And this is the smell of my pleasure."

I spurt over myself pathetically shooting and soiling my clothes and the couch. She leaned into my ear and encouraged me to keep leaking for her, with no more physical stimulation. I was beat. She began rubbing me all over with her hands and then slid her gloved hands into my mouth, fully covered in my own mess.

"Can you taste that? What does it taste like?"

She clamped her other hand over my jaw so I couldn't escape, only lick and suck at my own cum on her fingers. After a short while she released me.

"Well?"

"Salty, slimy, and hot."

"Anything else?"

"Disgusting."

I sat there blankly, unable to think of anything else to say. She tutted and then grabbed me be the chin again. I could feel her eyes on me as she spoke.

"It's your new insomnia medicine, to be taken orally, every night before bed. You better learn to like it, otherwise I may have to increase the dosage."

I whined. She fastened the clasp back on my gag. A few moments later I felt metal wrap around my member as she slid something over my cock. I heard a distinct click as a lock popped into place and my limp dick felt secure.

"Just for insurance, can't have you running out of your dosage."

I nodded half heartedly, unable to resist, my eyelids feeling heavy.

"Oh you poor thing, look at you all confused. I promise I am going to help you. Just drift away. You're safe here, under my protection, under my observation, under my control..."

She kept talking for a little while after that, but I didn't hear any of it. I was asleep moments later.