tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Doctor is Sin

The Doctor is Sin


Entering the solemn quiet of the tastefully and expensively furnished lobby, she was greeted by the darting glances of two bespectacled pairs of eyes. Whereas the slightly pregnant receptionist's once-over conveyed only the inscrutable corporate calm indigenous to high-end office culture, the furtiveness of the middle-aged patient's stolen peek betrayed just a hint of sexual interest. While she'd experienced this before, these glances unfailingly surprised her as she had never considered herself a traditional beauty -- a little too plump to seriously venture into the two-piece racks in swimwear, nose too long and skin too alabaster pale to ever approach the standards set by the Photoshop wizards at all the leading beauty magazines. But, as her husband had tried to convince her in her more insecure moments, she was in fact a quite lovely thirty-one-year-old woman -- the pale skin she regretted contrasting wonderfully with her large brown doe-eyes and supple lips, lending her an innocent, quasi-virginal beauty. The baby fat she tried now and then to shed in fact doing her more good than bad, especially in those just-slightly-clingy skirts she wore to work.

"Lauren Kaplan. I'm the four-o'clock."

"Of course Mrs. Kaplan. Down the hallway and the second door on your left. He's ready to see you now."


"Ivan Gladjo, M.D.," gold-plated in Constantia font. Lauren took a deep breath and turned the door handle. Behind a handsome mahogany desk, an intelligent and worldly-looking mid-fiftyish gentleman with a short, salt-flecked beard -- in deference to Freud she presumed - stood up and greeted her with a kind smile.

"Lauren, so nice to meet you."

"Dr. Glow-joe," she smiled.

"Glad-yo, but, please, call me Ivan, he offered in a genial tone spiced with just the hint of an Eastern European accent. "Go ahead and have a seat," shutting the door behind her.

They each settled into plush chairs comfortable enough to sleep in. Lauren relaxed and took in the cozy surroundings -- the yellow wine-light of the late afternoon Friday sun peeking in through the wooden slats of the blinds and coloring the rich chocolate wood of the numerous bookshelves with a lovely gold. Professionally mandatory titles like the DSM-IV and Psychology of the Unconscious offset here and there by literary incongruities -- Anna Karenina, Huxley's Ape and Essence, a slim volume of The Metamorphosis, something called Histoire de Juliette ou les Prospérités du vice...

"I understand you'd like to increase your freedom and openness in the bedroom."

Close. This visit, like the set of seven that had been pre-paid to follow, was in fact the brainchild of her husband. Jimmy was an energetic and generous lover whom she adored making love to, and there was nothing particularly wrong in her mind with the frequency or pleasure of their lovemaking. But she could not orgasm from intercourse alone, and, no matter how many times she had told him that this was in no way unusual, that many women like her were simply not built that way and required oral or manual pleasure, and that orgasm was not to her the sine qua non of sex in any case, it had always slightly bothered him. Her few attempts to fake it for his sake were unconvincing even to Lauren and made her feel duplicitous.

After permanently kicking cigarettes with only two weeks of visits to Dr. Gladjo, Jimmy gotten it into his head that she could be "cured" with just a little therapy from the master. An insulting and annoying request from an otherwise wonderful husband when he first presented it, but when six months had passed and he had still not relinquished the dream, she agreed to do it for his birthday. Under the proviso that if it didn't work, he was never to bother her about it again.

"James is insecure about my inability to orgasm from intercourse alone." Words she once could not have dreamed offering up to even a credentialed stranger, but she had resolved to get through these visits with frank directness, a strategy to dilute the overall awkwardness of the affair. "He thinks this will help."

Ivan sat back. "Well... this is not really a problem necessarily. It's important for your husband to understand that lovemaking is not a contest, and that a fixation on orgasm can, if unrestrained, detract from an otherwise joyous occasion."

Her look suggested total agreement.

"But...," gently stroking his beard, "what I have found, in the couples who seek therapy here, is that, with an enhanced capacity to fully explore themselves and to know themselves as sexual beings comes... a newfound fulfillment in the bedroom, even when they come to me with already satisfactory sex lives. This manifests itself not just in the experiences of the patient, but of his or her partner as well." Smiling at her, "At a minimum, I believe we can make your husband forget all about this orgasm fixation of his through your newfound explorations together."

A small, reserved laugh. "It would be more than I can do."

"Now, just to be clear, you are comfortable receiving therapy from a male practitioner? Rest assured that I will provide the same level of professionalism you would receive from my female colleagues, but that I would understand entirely if you would prefer to meet with someone of your own gender."

Lauren was not, in fact, entirely comfortable with the arrangement. Always a sexually reserved woman, nothing came less natural to her than discussing such matters with a man she barely knew. But she saw no better alternative. With a woman, things would be equally awkward, but in a different way... she would feel judged, she thought. More importantly, she knew Jimmy was absolutely convinced that this doctor was a virtuoso, and if she switched therapists and things didn't work out, she felt like he would continue to press her.

"I'm fine meeting with you, Dr. Gladjo."

"Please, Ivan. Now, in cases like yours where there is, in fact, no real disorder, but merely the desire to spice things up a bit, I find the quickest, most effective method of treatment to be hypnosis. Have you ever been hypnotized, Lauren?"

"No. I'm not even sure I can be hypnotized."

"There's really nothing to it," he chuckled. "But since this is a new experience for you, let me first dispel a few myths about hypnosis that could make you uncomfortable if not refuted. You should know that hypnosis in no way constitutes a form of mind control. Quite to the contrary, it is an interactive experience -- you will be aware of and will remember everything we discuss in session. During the session, you will not venture into any realms in which you are uncomfortable, nor would I ask you to. And these stage 'hypnotists' making people cluck like chickens and so forth -- pure crowd psychology. Post-hypnotic suggestion is real, but it is not at all involuntary or robotic. To take your husband's case, when he craved a cigarette, he would, like all of us facing temptation, find himself torn between two alternatives. I did not create the angel on his shoulder telling him to abstain; I simply gave it a loudspeaker. Similarly, you may sometimes with your husband desire a more organic, unbridled experience. I do not create new desires; I simply provide you the means to reach the ones you do have."

"That sounds great."

"Now, when I said there was nothing to hypnosis, I told something of a half-truth. Anyone can be hypnotized -- I am convinced of this. But, with some people, it takes a lot of easing in. It may be several sessions before true hypnosis is even achieved. Given that we are on the clock, so to speak, I like to offer first-time subjects a shortcut -- a very short-lasting sedative that will make you groggy at first, then relaxed, and will be largely out of your system for your commute home. Would this be acceptable?"

Lauren wasn't entirely sure if this was acceptable, but, again, the potential alternative -- several such costly visits just to reach the starting line -- seemed less palatable than what was on the table.

"As long as I don't have to call a cab."


Ivan reassured her and she popped the hard white oval proffered. He spent a few minutes chatting with her about Jimmy, her career, and plans for the weekend, careful to use only his peripheral vision to gauge the slowing rate at which her lovely C-cup breasts heaved and fell with each breath, to watch her skirt tighten around her slightly cushy, fertile waist, revealing just the hint of a panty line, as she eased into the soft recliner, the pill taking effect.

"Let's begin."

He stood and produced from one of his shelves a circular trinket, designed to be held aloft by a chain and spun so that its whirl of metallic spirals conjured a minor psychedelia.

"Lauren, I need you to fix your gaze on the eye of this oscillator, to follow it wherever it goes, and to fight the urge, however strong, to close your eyes." Like an ophthalmologist, he moved the device up and down, back and forth, taking in the beauty of her wide, droopy-lidded eyes as they tracked its movements. For Lauren, even the minor strain of this task was pushing a mild grogginess into the realm of full-blown mental exhaustion, and she felt quite certain that in a few moments she would be sound asleep in this chair, ruining the session.

"It's very important to keep your eyes open." He held the oscillator in place and spun it from a knob on its back.

Fixating on the center of the ever-changing whirlpool of spirals, she felt like a sleep-starved motorist losing the fight for lucidity in the repetitive onrush of road markings. The small buzzing in her head promised an exquisite release if she would just shut her eyes, and some force seemed to be pulling those eyelids down by force.

"I can't."

"I'm going to tell you something that will help you. The sensation you crave so strongly right now -- of sleep, of finally putting your tired mind at rest -- all of this can be yours -- will be yours even more so -- if you only allow the shapes to do the work of your eyelids. You want to block out all stimuli, to forestall any distraction that would keep your mind from rest. The patterns you see will do this for you. Release the tension in your mind into the spirals. Feel the effort of wakefulness drain into the pattern. Feel your mind unburden itself; trust in the pattern to put your mind at rest..."

Amazingly, it was working. She felt all the strain, all of the minor stresses of the day slipping away. The once Herculean task of consciousness receded until her eyes had settled into an effortless half-lidded equilibrium. The sensation of wakeful half-sleep was more pleasant than she could have expected, and she longed for the experience to continue, for nothing to break this enjoyable trance.

"The tension you've built up in your body all week long... for many weeks now in fact... tension that resides in your muscles and your joints, lightly nagging you without your awareness... it's all slipping away now. Flowing into the pattern." He watched her ease even further into the chair, her left knee falling slightly to the side and her skirt riding up just enough to afford a lower glimpse of an inner thigh.

"You feel yourself sinking further into the chair. The sinking does not stop, it only continues, increasing your comfort your weightlessness... you melt into the chair..." Her sexy, full lips now parting slightly in slack-jawed abandon.

"And now we will release the last tethers holding you back from complete peace and rest. From total calm and nirvana. Are you ready?"


"All of society's expectations of what you should do, who you should be. Feel them flowing out of you, into the pattern. Fears of what is appropriate and what is not. They are irrational fears, and you feel them slipping away from you, leaving you free. Everything you do, everything you think is right, because you are a beautiful person. You are loose of all restrictions, and no one will judge you, because the more you are yourself, the more beautiful even you become. You are free of all burdens now. Free to explore who you are, who you want to be. Sexually and otherwise. Are you ready to explore, Lauren?"

"Yes," in a tiny, groggy voice.

"You are physically beautiful. Your beautiful face, your strawberry blonde hair, your porcelain-perfect skin, your wonderful curves -- they produce sexual desire in the men who see you."

Lauren was as taken aback as she could be in this state. Under normal circumstances, such comments from a stranger would have outraged her with their inappropriateness, cause her to leave the room. Later, she would have rejected the truth of what had been said, chalked it up to the unscrupulousness of male libido, the shameless flirtation signifying nothing but the want of a romp in the hay. But she was enjoying this trancelike state too much to let it break. And she knew the doctor knew what he was doing, had her best interests in mind. She resolved to accept whatever he said, let it wash over her, not to fight or question it. Just enjoy the experience for now.

"You deserve to enjoy this interest. But only one man is lucky enough to have you -- your husband. You must enjoy it through him. Feel this buzz of lust in the air channeled into him, all transient sexual longing for you flow into the vessel of your husband. He wants you so badly. And the more you accept your beauty, your sexiness, your magnetism to him, the more he is affected. Each one's longing for the other flowing into each other, strengthening your desire, a feedback loop of passion and lust...

"He wants you so badly, wants to take you. And you are free to say whatever you want to him, to do whatever you want with him, to feel however you want to feel with him. He will take you. But first, feel his longing, his aching. You are on top of him straddling him. His hot palms pressed against your stomach. You can feel how much he wants you through those hands. Hands which are sliding up your body now. And now holding your breasts, squeezing them, pinching your nipples..."

Lauren could actually feel the pinch of her nipples between her husband's fingers, the heat of his hands. She could also feel the growing heat between her legs, the moistening.

"You may unleash yourself, do whatever you want with him. You are free..."


Walking back through the hallway, Lauren could hardly remember the last time she felt more relaxed. It had been like he said -- she was aware of and could remember everything he said, and the drug seemed to have already worn off. All in all, a physically enjoyable experience. Though she was still surprised at the sexual frankness of the doctor - while she supposed that this method was simply meant to be quicker than the abstract waltz of metaphors she had expected, the notion of another man discussing her body in this manner still shocked her, thinking back on it in retrospect. The worst part was her physical reaction -- she allowed herself to be turned on like this only by her husband, and, though it was, after all, the phantom sensation of her husband's caress that had stirred her, it felt wrong to respond physically in another man's presence. A small degree of shame nagged at her as she walked back to the lobby, feeling the residual swell and dampness of her pussy underneath her panties; shame that sharpened as she brushed along the waiting-room fellow heading in the other direction, who she caught stealing a glance at her behind.

Still, walking out into the beautiful sunset-lit glow of the late Friday summer afternoon, she did feel freer. Her husband might or might not get what he finally wanted, but she would be surprised if they didn't have a lot of fun trying.


She walked into the house greeted by her handsome husband, still in his sharp work clothes. Enjoying the beautiful light hazel of his eyes, his thick blonde hair, just before he kissed her hello. Your husband is so pretty her girlfriends would occasionally tease her. For many of them, it was simply a compliment, even an admission that they envied her attractive mate. For a few, it really was more of a tease -- Jimmy's high cheekbones, delicate facial features, and fit swimmer's build were the stuff of teenage girl wet dreams, but she knew some girls preferred a bulkier, gruffer masculinity. But she was more than happy not to be counted among their number. Her tastes had not really changed all the markedly since the early days of ogling boy band pictorials, and her teenage self would have hopped and squealed to see her eventual mate.

"How was it?"

She smiled demurely. "I guess we'll find out."


In the bedroom, Jimmy eyed her lustily as he took off his sportscoat and loosened his tie. He looked so sexy and put together taking off his business attire. Unbuttoning his shirt now to reveal that lean torso, a little line tracing from his sternum to his pelvis where his abdominals met. And now letting his slacks slip to the floor, his boxer briefs clinging to his tight, fit thighs.

She fell to him, surprising him with her aggressiveness, kissing his chest, his wonderfully scented neck. Locking lips with him and letting him feel how horny she was with the uninhibited movements of her tongue. Then she was down on her knees, sliding off his underwear, taking his already half-hard cock in her mouth. She took him like that lustily, cupping his taut balls in her hand, feeling him grow to full hardness in her mouth as she inhaled his sexy musk.

Soon they were on the bed, Lauren straddling his face, his cock again deep in her mouth. Oh how she loved to 69, but this time even more so, the sensations of his nose and face massaging her inner pussy lips, teasing her opening, making her want his cock in her but denying it. All mixed in so perfectly with the flicking of his tongue on the sides of her clit, all around it, over it. She was usually playful with his cock when they did this, pulling off her mouth to ride her hand up and down his shaft, tracing his urethra with her tongue, taking just the head of his dick in her mouth and running her tongue all around it. This time she simply drove her mouth all the way down him, to his balls, letting his cock gag her even, over and over, enjoying the feeling of his hard heat invading her throat, delighting in his surprised moans of pleasure.

She felt a strong and building buzz in her clit, and this would typically be the time she pulled her lips off of him and masturbated him while letting him hear her cum from his tongue (why on earth couldn't he accept those orgasms as enough?), but she just continued to impale her mouth on him, and just as the electricity reached its peak, the exquisite sensation enveloping her whole pussy, he groaned and she felt him explode in her mouth, his salty, musky semen filling her mouth. She swallowed all of it, another novelty by their standards.

She turned over on to the bed, eyeing him with a bedroom gaze and turning up her lips in a now glistening flirt of a smile.

"Oh God, honey, I didn't mean to cum already, but the way you were sucking me.."

She traced a fingernail up and down his stomach. "We've got all weekend, baby."


And it would be sooner than he expected. Later on, lying next to him after they'd turned in for the night, her thoughts turned back to the session, this strange man talking about her body, her breasts, and she felt the heat between her legs return. It wasn't any desire for the doctor, though for a much older man he was surprisingly handsome, those cobalt blue eyes. No, she was too faithful for even fantasies along these lines. But the taboo of this man talking to her like that, and her lying prone, near-helpless in her trancelike state; she could almost feel her clit growing again. She slid her hand down her dozing husband's underwear, took his cock in her hand, and began stroking it up and down determinedly.

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