The Treatment

Author's note: this story is NOT related to Twelve Gates - it's just me doing some mental stretching to get over some writer's block - a little change of pace. I don't know if it's going to be a stand-alone story or the first of a series. Any thoughts? All characters are fictional. Feedback is welcome.

****

Sandra Ella Smith, PhD, slipped past the door quietly, eyes lowered, and hurried to her place on the bar stool in the corner of my office. I spun in my leather office chair to face her.

"You're late." I said, my tone flat.

"Sindi is sorry, Sir. She missed her bus." her voice was meek, almost fearful.

I gazed at her coolly for several moments. Unable to stand the prolonged silence, she spoke again.

"The first client is at 9:30, Sir."

"That only leaves you 15 minutes then."

"Yes, Sir." She dropped off the bar stool and to her knees, then started to slowly crawl over the laminate floor towards me. Her white skirt was so short that the hem didn't drag on the floor as she crawled. The blue, deep V-neck top she wore exposed most of her breasts as she moved; they were just barely contained by a lacy white bra. Her azure eyes were on mine the entire time she approached. Finally she knelt in front of me, looking up at me and biting her lower lip.

"May Sindi please perform her morning service, Sir?" Her face flushed as she spoke the words, but the shyness didn't hide the hint of lust in her voice. She'd never been able to hide it from me. Women never could.

"What did we discuss yesterday?"

"That Sindi must not allow her teeth to touch your cock, Sir."

"And what did I say would happen if I felt your teeth?"

Her blush deepened. Her eyes reflected anxiety and hunger.

"You said you would take the ruler to Sindi's bare titties, Sir." Her shudder of arousal was barely visible unless you knew to look for it. And I knew.

"An appropriate consequence for sloppiness?"

"Um...Yes Sir" she hesitated before answering, clearly torn between fearing and craving the harsh sting of my wooden ruler.

"Unless you think you're too good to be sucking cock. Is that it?"

"Oh, no Sir. Sindi isn't too good for anything. Please let her show you?"

"Get started then."

She extracted my cock from my dress pants with practiced skill and carefully lowered her mouth over it. The combination of her deep, eager strokes and the wet friction of her tongue promised to make this a short session. I was always a little faster in the mornings.

Thirty-one year old Sandra Smith had been a chemical engineer for an oil company out in Alberta, leading a team of twenty people, earning a huge salary and enjoying the universal respect of her peers. She'd been engaged to a perfect young man who was steeped in new money.

Now she was Sindi, my part-time secretary, dressed like a bimbo and concentrating so very hard on keeping her teeth away from my skin as she hurried to bring me off before the first client arrived.

From a glorious past to a very humble present. And all her choice - free and voluntary and un-coerced. No blackmail. No trickery. I hadn't threatened to do unpleasant things to her sister; nothing like that. She'd begged me for the job, in fact.

Why?

That part is difficult to explain and even harder to understand. The short answer is: some women have a need that consumes them. I mean an obsessive, often unhealthy kind of primal desire that gets its hooks in and never, ever lets go. Sometimes the woman can suppress this vital urge and live an ordinary, unhappy life of self-denial.

And sometimes, they find me and undergo my own particular brand of treatment.

"Six minutes left. I won't be pleased if you're late to greet Mrs. Gordon."

My words had the desired effect, making her efforts even more frantic. She was more desperate for me to cum than I was. And...there were her teeth again. Just a gentle scrape, barely noticeable. But I noticed. She did, too, and let out an anguished wail as she continued to service me.

I heard the outer door to my office open and close. Mrs. Gordon had arrived and was in the waiting room. Sindi was not having a very good morning. It wouldn't be exactly fair of me to punish Sindi just because the client was early, but not to punish her would make her even more unhappy. It was exactly what she expected...and needed. The humiliation. The loss of control.

A few minutes later I succumbed to her talented and experienced mouth. She swallowed, licked me clean and gently put my cock away. Her blue eyes held an odd mix of fear and expectation. I knew her pussy was soaked.

"Sir, Sindi is so sorry for her teeth! Please don't be angry with her."

"Go and show Mrs. Gordon in. We'll have plenty of time to deal with your sloppiness when she leaves."

A moan rose from deep within her - more lust than terror. She rose quickly and clicked to the door in her high heels. I watched her ass in that too-short skirt as she exited - it must have been near-impossible to sit on the bus without displaying an obscene amount of leg and thigh.

I sighed and spun the chair back to my desk. It was time to get down to business.

***

Mrs. Beverly Gordon was a forty-two year old grade 6 teacher, mother of two teenaged daughters and wife of 18 years. Her kids, typical teenagers, didn't want her around much and her husband ignored her. She was far from ugly so I figured he was having an affair, but didn't share my opinion with Beverly. She'd come to see me four times already; her first two visits had been two weeks apart but she'd come to me each of the past two weeks. The more she had, the more she needed.

She paid in cash, $300, setting an envelope on the corner of my desk before she sat on the hard plastic fold-out chair I provided for my clients.

I'm not a whore. Or maybe I am, but not in the traditional sense. There are some itches that a woman can't scratch in the course of her normal daily life. Deeply-hidden but undeniable wants that would ruin her if they ever became known to civilized society. So call me a scratcher of very private itches. I make these women feel the way they need to feel. Confidentially, safely. But I don't come cheap.

I glanced at Sindi, perched uncomfortably on her bar stool in the corner of the office holding her steno pad. She nodded, ready to begin. I had her record my sessions on pen and paper not because I needed the information but because it was a demeaning, trivial and pointless task. Later she would sit at her computer and carefully transcribe her notes, then email me the files. I never read them. And she knew it.

"How have you been since last week, Beverly?" I asked.

"Better, doctor. I thought a lot about our last treatment."

Bev called me 'doctor' even though she knew it wasn't true. I'd told her the unvarnished truth about myself before our first session. That's one rule - I never lie to my clients. But it seemed to make her feel better to address me that way. Maybe it was how she rationalized her visits to me.

"And we agreed on a few things that you would do after the last session. Some homework. How did you manage, Beverly?" I kept my tone cool, almost professional. My eyes never left hers. She started to fidget. Her cheeks took on some colour. Telltale signs of the tingle she was feeling between her thighs.

"F-fine, doctor. I did exactly as you prescribed."

"Tell me what you did, Beverly."

"I...stopped wearing...panties." her colour deepened. She was fingering the sleeve of her white blouse nervously.

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Naughty. Dirty, especially when I was teaching."

"Aroused?"

"Yes, doctor. Very."

"What other homework did we agree on, Beverly?"

"I...shaved."

"Where did you shave, Beverly?"

"My vagina."


I could feel my cock stirring again but the hunger was manageable thanks to Sindi's morning service. That was another rule - I never touched my clients. Ever. Luckily for me, Sindi was an employee, not a client.

"And did you do a thorough job?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Excellent. Remove your jeans."

She hesitantly stood, darted a glance at Sindi, then unfastened her jeans. She hooked her fingers under the waist line, peeled them down her legs and awkwardly stepped out of them. Sure enough, no panties. Her white blouse fell to conceal her cunt. That wouldn't do at all.

"Raise the bottom of your blouse, Beverly."

Her hand shook as she obeyed, revealing a completely hairless slit.

"Walk over to Sindi. She'll inspect it to make sure you did a good job."

She paused, then lowered her eyes and slowly walked to the corner where Sindi was furiously making notes. Beverly stood in front of her and Sindi looked at me, unsure of how to proceed.

"Get down on your knees and give it a thorough visual exam. Then stroke it with your fingers to ensure a proper job was done." I instructed my secretary. I turned my chair to take in the scene.

Sindi slid off the bar stool and to her knees. I couldn't tell which of the two women was blushing more deeply. Sindi brought her face close to Beverly's snatch, looking at it carefully as I'd directed. Mrs. Gordon's breath was starting to come faster.

"Please part your knees wider so Sindi can perform a decent inspection." I said.

Bev widened her stance and Sindi tentatively reached out and ran her fingertips over the sensitive flesh. Beverly gasped at the contact but didn't draw away. Sindi slid her fingertips over Bev's mound, up the sides of her pussy lips and down deep between her thighs.

"It feels very smooth, Sir." Sindi said, humiliated. Aroused.

"Excellent. You can take your seat again, Beverly."

Bev sat, knees pressed together tightly. She must have known that this act of modesty was irrational, given what was to come.

"What did your husband say about your bald pussy, Beverly?

"He...hasn't noticed." she said in a quiet voice.

Seriously? What kind of husband doesn't notice that his wife has been shaving her quim for a whole week?

"Well, you did such a good job that it would be a shame if he didn't notice it. So from now on I think you should begin sleeping nude. Every single night."

"Y-yes, doctor. If you think that's a good idea."

"That's settled, then. Sindi will make a note in your treatment plan."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Shall we continue the treatment we started last week, Beverly?" I asked, nonchalant.

"Yes Doctor, please."

Her breath caught expectantly as I reached into the side drawer in my desk, pulled out a disposable pen and slid it across the desk. She glanced at the pen and then gave me a pleading look. I looked back impassively.

She leaned froward and picked up the pen, holding onto the pointed end. Slowly she spread her legs until her feet were on either side of the cheap plastic chair, then slid her ass to the edge of the seat. With her slit so boldly presented it was easy to see her arousal in the thickness of her lips and the moisture starting to gather between them. She trembled in embarrassment and barely-contained desire.

"May I begin please, doctor?"

I nodded. She slowly, gently eased the blunt end of the pen into her dripping hole, just halfway, then all the way out again. On the second stroke the pen slid in easily all the way. She closed her eyes as she slid the pen in and out tentatively, then with increasing speed. Her breathing was rapid; the thin instrument was hitting enough nerve endings to bring greater arousal, but not an orgasm. Before long her pleasure began to plateau well short of the release she needed.

Her eyes opened and I could see the desperation in them.

I waited.

She soon realized that no matter how quickly or vigourously she fucked herself with the pen, it wouldn't be enough.

"Please...I need more." she said, panting, continuing to work the pen hard.

"More?"

"The...the...bigger one."

I waited. My eyes didn't leave hers.

"Please, doctor. May I use Cunt Buster?" her face was beet red as she spoke the words.

I reached into the same drawer and pulled out a hard plastic dildo that was about a foot long and two inches thick at its widest. Gently ribbed and neon pink. I set it carefully on the desk in front of me. Her eyes fixed on it with a single-minded, desperate intensity. She licked her lips. The pen continued to slide in and out of her to no effect.

"Yes...please." she whispered.

"What did we discuss last time, Beverly? "

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, then back down to Cunt Buster.

"P-proper enthusiasm." she mumbled.

I waited.

She put the now-greasy pen back on my desk, then very slowly slid onto her knees. Kneeling, her eyes were just slightly higher than the top of my desk and still focused, laser-like, on the neon pink sex toy.

"Please may I use Cunt Buster?"

I waited. She still had a ways to go to get to where she needed to be.

"...Please can I use Cunt Buster in my...p-pussy?"

"...Please can I...can I fuck my pussy with Cunt Buster?"

"...Please please let me fuck my hot pussy with Cunt Buster!"

I could see her eyes becoming less focused. Glazed. The urge was gaining power. Mrs. Beverly Gordon was almost gone, overwhelmed by the undeniable power of the primal hunger inside her. The transformation was beautiful in a way. I enjoyed freeing her from her self-imposed oppression.

My cock was full-on erect.

"I need to fuck my wet cunt! Please let me fuck Cunt Buster! I need it so bad."

"Maybe if you were naked..." I suggested in a deliberately disinterested tone. Her blouse came off fast and she yanked her bra up over her head, too frenzied to bother with the clasp. Her tits were small but perky enough. The nipples were thick and long. I felt a surge of regret for my 'no touching the clients' rule. Those stiff points craved a good rough squeeze.

"God...I need that big cock inside me...fucking...stretching...thick...please..." the words were coming in fragments now, barely coherent. She was panting and sweating. The True Beverly had surfaced at last. I could smell her juices.

Why had I made that stupid rule?

I very slowly slid the dildo to her end of the table. As soon as I let go she had it in her hands and between her legs. She pushed it roughly inside her with a loud, low moan. It went in only a couple of inches so she yanked it out and thrust it in again. The air rushed out of her lungs in an animalistic grunt. It was buried in her halfway. Her eyes were open but unseeing, a dreamy half-smile on her lips as she withdrew and slammed it in again.

True Beverly didn't want to be gently coaxed to a satisfying climax. She wanted to pound her dripping snatch until she came like a freight train.

And that's what she did.

She squeezed her eyes shut as her body stiffened; most of the pink toy lodged inside her.

"Yes! FUCK!" she screamed as a powerful cum punched hard into her core. She fell onto her back and spasmed and jerked and twitched for an entire minute, gasping out profanity the entire time.

And then it was over and she lay still; naked on the laminate floor; legs wide; Cunt Buster lodged deep in her well-stretched sex. Breathing like she'd just run a mile.

I waited.

"Thank you, doctor." she whispered from the floor.

"I assume you'll do a better job of cleaning it than you did last time, Beverly."

She nodded weakly, still lying on her back. She reached down and slowly, gingerly eased Cunt Buster out of her abused opening. She brought it to her mouth and started to lick.

****

The wooden ruler slapped down onto Sindi's left tit, drawing a gasp of pain and a red welt on the milky white skin.

She stood in front of me as I sat in my chair. She was topless with her fingers laced behind her head, C-cup tits well-presented for their promised beating. I drew back and slapped the 12-inch wooden ruler down again. She squealed softly but didn't budge.

"You have a PhD in chemical engineering?" I asked her.

"Yes Sir."

I slashed the ruler again, enjoying the way the flesh bounced and jiggled with each hard swat. Sindi's whine made it clear that she didn't enjoy it quite so much. But her nipples were rock-hard.

"But you're having trouble learning to suck my cock?"

"Sindi is so sorry, Sir!"

Another crisp smack. They'd all been on her left breast. It was starting to look splotchy and very mistreated.

"Is sucking a cock more difficult than chemical engineering, Sindi?"

SMACK

"No Sir. Sindi promises that she'll learn to do it properly."

SMACK

I paused, reading her expression, her body language, her eyes. Too much pain would take her out of the zone. There needed to be a balance between the pain, the humiliation and the craving she felt in response.

I stroked the flat of the ruler gently over her red, swollen tit. Her breathing was rapid. I judged her to be exactly where she most needed to be. I gave her flesh one final hard slap, then put the ruler back in the drawer.

It had been a long, profitable day. Four clients, $1700. Not bad for 5 hours' work.

"You can go now, Sindi. I'll expect you on time tomorrow."

"Yes Sir." she paused, hands still behind her head.

"Is there something else?"

"Please Sir, it's been two weeks. Please let Sindi cum?"

I could hear in her voice it was the truth. I looked into her pretty blue eyes as I pretended to consider her request. Of course, I didn't control her when she was away from work; there was nothing to stop her from rubbing her clit from dusk till sunrise. I didn't really care. But she did. Unlike my clients who could temporarily tame their urges, Sindi had long ago capitulated to hers. Sandra Ella Smith was a fading memory. For the most part, only Sindi remained. And Sindi needed what I gave her; needed it like air or water.

"Maybe tomorrow, if you're on time, and if you've learned to suck a cock properly. Maybe." I replied.

"Yes Sir. I promise I'll be perfect tomorrow." her voice sounded disappointed but endearingly optimistic.

She retrieved her bra and top from the surface of my desk and dressed.

Tomorrow would be a new day.