The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CASE FILES — PERSONAL NOTES — PATIENT 20 — DAY 4

I acquired my new project (Ann) on Friday. This was Monday, and I couldn’t simply quit the rest of my life’s work just because there was a woman living with me who would be requiring much of my time for the next three months. On this day, I saw three patients and prepared for my lecture at the university the following morning (I taught a two and a half hour course on Tuesdays and oversaw another two and a half hours of practical exercises and lab work on Thursdays: a five hour, “T-day” course). Fortunately, I’d had the whole weekend to get Ann established in a routine that would now allow my absence.

Our mornings began with oatmeal. Oddly, though starting out as an old wives’ tale, it was now established medical knowledge that this food somehow aids in the production of milk in lactating women … even though the reason for this has not yet been determined. Luckily, she likes it. I showed her how to prepare it … just as I insisted on her helping me with every meal over the weekend. I laid out her morning pills … eleven of them … and was very pleased when she simply took them without question, though I told her what they were anyway, since there was really no reason to withhold the info. Most were vitamin supplements, though the hormones and steroids were there, as well. She seemed indifferent about them, so I didn’t bother to explain the seven pills with the evening meal.

Saturday morning, I took her out for a one-hour walk, which I had mapped out the night before. I made a few corrections to the course so as to comply with a timeline, and informed her that this would be her morning routine every day after breakfast. Next, we went shopping. I left her in the hands of a sales clerk in a high-end mall department store, giving explicit instructions and a discretely passed hundred dollar bill, along with my credit card; and when I returned an hour later, Ann stood in a new dress and carried three large bags of clothes, including new bras, panties and shoes. She wobbled a bit in the two-inch heels, but was otherwise beaming shyly. I then took her to the jewelry department, where I purchased a “smart watch,” which I had the salesman set to vibrate on a continuous four-hour alarm cycle. When we got home we disposed of her entire old wardrobe. I instructed her that while indoors, she would either wear the robe with nothing beneath, or shorts for her daily workout on the exercise machines that I had ordered (but hadn’t yet arrive). It was exactly noon, and her watch let her know it was time for another session with the breast pump, so I allowed her to retreat to her room.

Afterward, dressed now in the robe, she fixed us a large lunch, with me instructing her on the preparation. Following that, it was time for another hypnosis session in my office. As soon as she was seated in the comfortable chair, I called up “her spiral” on my computer and turned the screen toward her, pleased to see that she allowed herself to be drawn into a mesmerized state within seconds, relinquishing emotional control completely. With three minutes of deepening, the induction phase was complete, and I was able to proceed directly to reward-based subconscious suggestions, which she accepted without question. Once again, I marveled at the fact that fate had seemingly handed me the perfect prey (at least in mental terms) in my first attempt at evil doctoring.

This session was pretty much like the first. I was practicing, actually, trying to find the perfect blend of excitation and pleasure mixed with a deep-set need to obey and serve. She seemed to accept it automatically … there was no hesitation or reluctance in relinquishing control at all. For a full hour, I kept at it; and not once did she fight my dominance, even though I increased the level of ascendancy and supremacy in an attempt to find the upper limit of her acceptance. Apparently, there was none. When I brought her out of it, she actually shuddered in emotional overload … something that is sometimes seen in very small children when they are very pleased. In an adult, it’s akin to a small orgasm.

Due to a lack of exercise equipment, I then had her put on one of her new summer dresses, and we retraced the one-hour stroll from the morning. I was pleased to find that she knew the route well enough to do it on her own from then on. It took us an additional fifteen minutes because of the new shoes (she had never worn heels, even two-inch ones like these), and I let her set a slow pace. It was early October, and warm. The sales clerk had done an excellent job, and the dress was designed for someone of Ann’s slight figure. Though her grayish pallor remained, she looked rather fresh; and the fact that she smiled frequently added greatly to her appearance.

When we got back, for the first time, she requested my permission to use the toilet. I consented offhand, but then told her sternly that I did not want her to touch herself sexually. She blushed, then asked if she was supposed to change back into the robe. I told her no, that I had other plans, and she nodded and rushed off toward the only bathroom in the apartment while I shook my head in wonder. Within twenty-four hours, she had become a true submissive.

When she came back, I led her to the car, and drove her to a large bookstore. There, I left her to her own devices, telling her that she could pick any twelve books she wanted. Her eyes grew wide in ecstatic wonder. I later learned from her that she had never actually owned a book in her life … she had only checked them out of the library. Once home, I left her in her room (dressed only in the robe) for an hour, while I did some work in my office. I somehow knew that the “reading hour” would be the only time in her life where she had no restrictions, at least where her intellect and imagination were concerned. Having some command in her life was necessary in my little mind-control scheme. She wouldn’t be able to find bliss in surrendering control unless she had some TO surrender.

At the end of the hour, I went to her and ordered her to follow as I led her back to the examining room. When I commanded her to take off the robe, she hesitated only briefly before doing so. During the hypnosis session, I had actually reinforced her shyness while explaining patiently that she must muster the courage to overcome it in order to submit to my authority. From the degree of her blushing embarrassment, this was obviously the case, and I could see the warring emotions within her. She demurely complied, though, lying on the table and allowing me to once again strap her down and lift her legs so that they could be bound in the stirrups. Flushed and breathing deeply, she shuddered as I once again subjected her to a long breast exam; then she waited silently as I used some hand sanitizer and then pulled up a stool and seated myself at her widely spread nether region. She was secreting heavily.

I began by running the tip of my finger all around the inner surface of her vaginal opening, and she jerked in her bonds and gasped acutely. I smiled to myself, safe in the knowledge that I had done a very good job of securing her to the steadfast table. I didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to tear that multi-million dollar hymen. Finally, I began tracing the ring of tissue that made up this spurious prize. “Do you know what I’m touching right now, Ann?” I asked her as she quivered and panted.

“It’s … It’s my cunny, doctor.”

I huffed a short laugh. “Who taught you to use that preposterous word?”

She took another deep breath. “Aunt Gerty.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about any intimate relationships or sexual hang-ups concerning her Aunt. Not now, at least. If emotional bonding became a real problem with the girl, I would further explore and attempt to solve any psychosomatic troubles later in the process. For now, she was reacting better than I could possibly have hoped.

“I am touching the inner walls of your vagina, Ann. You may call it your pussy, if you’d like.” I began gently running my finger all around the outer edge of her hymen. “And this is the membrane that defines you as a virgin. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, doctor. It means I haven’t been with a man before. You … OH! … You are the only man who has ever touched me there. You’re the … OH! … the only PERSON who has ever touched me there. Other than me, I mean.” Okay, that meant that she hadn’t engaged in sexual relations with the aunt. I put the matter of a previous intimate relationship out my head.

(NOTE TO THE READER: This, as it turned out, was my first big error in The Case of Ann Johnson, Patient #20. It would not be my last.)

“And that leads me to our latest rule,” I said, stroking her again.

“Oh my God!” she moaned, but didn’t jerk enough to endanger anything.

I withdrew from her inner opening. “Ann, it is very important that we keep things intact in this area. For my experiments, I mean. I’m afraid that I must insist that you refrain from touching yourself sexually for the rest of your stay with me. Do you understand?”

I resumed running my fingertip around the inner edges of her vaginal opening. The muscles in her tummy fluttered and a heavy flow of fluid inundated her vagina, but I don’t think she experienced an orgasm. “OH! Don’t … Don’t touch myself?”

“I must insist. You will comply with my rule, won’t you, Ann? You must promise me.”

“Oh, gosh! Um … okay. I promise, doctor.”

I rewarded her by scrolling my fingertip upward to her oversized clitoris, and I began tracing circles around it. She cried out and attempted to heave her pelvis upward toward the finger, but the strap around her hips held her firmly in place. I noticed that she had begun clenching and unclenching her fists in their restraints. “And one other thing, Ann. When you have your period, you will use pads instead of tampons. Do you understand? I’ll get you some.” She cried out again as I grazed her nubbin. “I’m afraid I must hear your answer, Ann,” I continued. “Do you understand my rule?”

“Yes! Oh, yes, doctor! Anything! I’ll do anything!” she cried. I smiled and began rubbing the clitoris directly, hard, increasing my tempo; and she launched into a straining, quaking, screaming orgasm. Her hair flew all about her head as she flung her face from side to side in her ecstasy. Her vaginal lips dilated widely, clenched hard until her opening was almost closed, then repeated the cycle, while a new gush of oily fluid soaked my hand. The muscles in her flat stomach rippled like small waves on a shore, and her entire body shook against the straps that held her. I’ve never experienced a woman who was so … vocal, I guess you would say, though words had no place in this little exhibit. Grunts, moans, shrieks and various other sounds emanated from her, and the display kept up for almost a full minute while I continued my assault on her clit.

Finally, I was the one who ended it, withdrawing my fingertip from her most sensitive spot; and she sort of collapsed in on herself, falling into an almost fluid state of relaxed muscles. Her moans subsided into a purring sound. I stood and looked down on her, realizing that she had apparently fallen asleep.

“Wow,” I said gently to myself. I unstrapped her, extended the lower part of the table, and gently let her legs stretch out below her. Still, her eyes were closed and she appeared to slumber. Tenderly, I shook her awake. And, when she finally opened her eyes … there it was. Adoration. She looked at me the way a pet looks at a long-time master. No doubt about it … she had fallen in love with me … weeks before I thought it would happen. I sighed, helped her up, and held her robe while she put it back on.

Without another word, she followed me back to the apartment. I showed her which bottles and how much to add to her bath while the tub filled, then watched as she took off the robe and her wristwatch before stepping into the steaming concoction. A little later, I went in and relieved myself in the bathroom while she bathed, making an unspoken point that she had no privacy in her life, even here. I left the shampoo and conditioner with her to use. She helped with dinner after she dried her hair, and we again ate in front of the TV. When her watch buzzed its alarm at 8:00, I paused the DVR and went to get the breast pump, and she blushed as she parted the robe and used it next to me on the couch. By the end of the movie I’d picked, she’d curled up next me, put her head on my shoulder and fallen asleep; and I once again carried her to her room. Later, in my bed at midnight, I awakened briefly as I heard her rev up the breast pump and use it in her room.

On Sunday, after breakfast and her walk (which she did alone), I broke the lock on the door to the basement, just off the entrance foyer, and we went exploring together. The stairway was wide and sturdy. Below, we found entrances to two full apartments, each with five rooms, which included bathrooms. So … there were seven apartments in the building, plus my offices. Not bad … once you got around the idea that they were all filthy and in very poor shape. There were holes in several walls, and the carpet (where it existed at all) was threadbare. After our initial explorations, I went out and bought cleaning supplies, then assigned her one room to sweep, scrub, scour and sanitize between her hypnosis session and second walk of the day.

By now, I had gotten her hour-long hypnotic suggestion period pretty much down pat, and I recorded it on my computer as a sound file for use in later sessions. It was only our third day together, and already it had become somewhat routine. I ensured, even considering all the new requirements, that she had her one-hour “alone time” in her room with the book of her choice. In bed that night, I didn’t even wake up when she used the pump, knowing in my heart that she could be trusted to perform that … and every … task that I had ordered.

On Monday, as I have already mentioned, I saw patients. Ardly was correct. While I was unable to determine if he was actually responsible, all three of them were women. Somehow, the word had gotten out that I was an especially adept psychiatrist in the area of female emotional health. Through it all, Ann was on her own, walking the course I had laid out (always in one of her dresses and low heels), cleaning downstairs (in a pair of gym shorts), reading, fixing me lunch … everything according to the schedule I had written out for her. I prepared for my lecture, while for the first time, leaving her with a set of headphones listening to the recorded hypnotic session from the day before. When I went to get her, just before the recording ended, she obviously didn’t have a clue that anything had changed.

After my last patient left (just after her reading hour), she surprised me by coming to me and standing, meek and compliant, requesting to ask me a question. I had hoped to reach this level of submissiveness in week five or six of our time together, but chalked it up to yet another stroke of good luck where my task with Ann was concerned.

“What is it, girl?” I asked, bemused.

“Please, doctor. Please … can you examine me on the table again?”

This I had NOT expected. I stood for a long moment, contemplating, trying to weigh the benefits and possible consequences of complying with her request. While I was considering, she stood before me with hands at her sides, eyes cast downward in meek subservience. Finally, I nodded before realizing that she wasn’t looking. “Okay,” I told her seriously. “Go get on the table. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She breathed a small sound of joy, gracing me with a huge smile before running off toward the office.

When I walked into the room, I found that she not only was lying naked on the table waiting for me, but that she had managed to fasten her left wrist into the restraint cuff and secure one strap across her midriff.

CASE FILES — PERSONAL NOTES — PATIENT 20 — DAY 17

There are always setbacks in every project, nefarious or not. We had reached a routine, which had evolved over the days and weeks. Ann had many things in the course of her day that were mandated, and which did not need my approval. She arose at 8:00 on weekends (this was a Sunday), relieved herself in the bathroom, used the breast pump, and then went back to the bathroom to scrub and prepare herself for another day. This included weighing herself on the scale and recording that weight on a chart, which I had hung on a wall. Every diet, be it for weight reduction or gain, will generally start out well, but then will eventually begin to fluctuate, no matter the regimen.

Up to this point, she had either recorded at least SOME weight gain (the scale was calibrated in pounds and tenths of pounds), or at the very least, no change at all. When these “no change” days occurred, it was obvious that she was disappointed. But today, she had lost a full one point three pounds. I had taken to sleeping in late on Sundays, but on this morning, she burst into my room without knocking, threw herself into my arms and bawled like a baby over this perceived failure on her part. Looking back on it all, it made perfect sense. In the first basement room that she had cleaned, I had installed three large exercise machines; a stair machine, an elliptical trainer and a treadmill, all of which were the high-end devices used in health clubs. The day before, based on increased endurance, I had upped the levels and times in her afternoon workout. A loss of weight was not abnormal at all as her body began to tone muscle mass. And the girlish tantrum, of course, was the result of the increased estrogen and other hormones.

It took me ten long minutes to calm her down; and during that time, her clinging and her frail femininity began to have an effect on me. I am a man, after all. Her robe, which she had at least had the wherewithal to put on before she invaded my sanctuary, remained untied, and gapped open widely as she pressed herself into my body, seeking comfort and forgiveness. These first two weeks had seen her gain ten pounds; and the walks, exercise and diet had begun to do their work. She felt good. Realizing that I was going to be unable to hide my reaction, I tried to get her to retreat by scolding her. “Enough of this, girl! Get up, now. Go and start breakfast! You didn’t even knock before you came in here!”

And with a sobbing wail, she pressed herself into me even more, her arms around my neck, her bare breasts bulging against my chest. “Oh … I’m SO sorry, sir! I … I … I … don’t mean to be such a … a … worthless ….”

I reached behind my neck and pried her wrists from around me, but she reacted by scooting even closer to me, wriggling her thin butt into my lap. And I responded by throbbing strongly. She froze, staring up at me with startled, round eyes. She sniffed twice and then said: “OH!” And I let go of her wrists and grasped her by the shoulders, pushing her back away from me; but in so doing, she slid that tight little ass of hers against me again, and my erection jerked once more. She gasped. “Oh, gosh, doctor! You got … um … big!” She got off of me and looked down at my lap, which was still covered with blankets.

“Not my fault!” I huffed. “A man can’t be expected not to react when a pretty, near-naked girl decides to press her body against ….”

And she gasped loudly. “Pretty!?”

I couldn’t keep from sighing heavily. “Ann, my opinion about perceived beauty is irrelevant. My goals with you include making you as healthy as possible while I perform my experiments, and I believe we are achieving that particular objective. Things are proceeding very well. Now, go and prepare breakfast, and we’ll talk about things as we eat.”

But she stood her ground, her hands idly adjusting the robe around her. She kept staring at my crotch. “Are you … um … Do you … Is it … uncomfortable?”

“Go!” I barked. And she turned and fled the room.

Something had to change. We were becoming too intimate … or at the very least, too comfortable around each other. If I let this slide into something sexual, then even if I somehow managed to preserve her virginity, it would eventually lead to something emotionally painful for both of us. I thought I would be able to hypnotically divert that pain for her, but no one goes looking for heartache. Still, I had needs, just like any man. I didn’t think I was going to be able to keep the status quo much longer, especially when there would be a willing female cohabiting with me for the next ten weeks. I sighed again, got up and got dressed.

Despite what I had said in the bedroom, I refused to talk about her morning tantrum at breakfast, except to assure her that the matter of her weight loss or gain was MY problem, and not hers. She was nothing more than a recorder of facts. Other than that, she was to perform the tasks I laid out for her … and to eat the things I ordered her to … and that was the extent of it. She nodded demurely and answered everything with “Yes, doctor,” though it was obvious that she was lost in thoughts of her own.

The blood work had come back from the lab the previous week showing just what I had assumed it would. Tests for major diseases and abnormalities were all negative; and I knew that the anemia and deficiencies in protein and various vitamins could be addressed with diet and supplements. She was basically a healthy girl, and thanks to the diet, exercise and fresh air, she was beginning to LOOK like one. The emollients in her bath had begun to soften the roughness in her skin that was common in women exposed to heavy doses of nicotine; and the large intake of female hormones was just beginning to lead to the buildup of fatty tissues in her hips and breasts. In just two weeks, young Ann was starting to develop curves.

After her first instance of begging for sexual release, I had limited that particular indulgence to twice per week, which was now part of our curriculum on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Last night, she had really let go, straining mightily in her bonds while strapped to the table and screaming her ecstasy at the top of her lungs. She had eventually passed out cold, and I had carried her limp form to her room and deposited her nude body in her bed, tucking her in gently. The strange glances she kept casting my way during the day were, I assumed, simply the effects of afterglow from those encounters. But, as we came to the part of this day’s routine where we both went into my office for her hour-long hypnosis session, I realized that that assumption was wrong.

“Please, doctor … can we talk before you put me to sleep today? Can I ask you some questions?”

I sighed. Normally, she would launch the program that showed her “special spiral” herself, then she would allow her mind to lose focus for several minutes. A few simple commands on my part would put her into a deep trance, and I would launch a one-hour recorded session designed to strengthen a series of suggestions, which included the emotional yearning which brought her back for more of the same. The fact that she wanted something else when such a trance state was imminent was perplexing. “What is it Ann? What’s the matter?”

She smiled broadly; but then, she always seemed overjoyed when I consented to hear one of her requests. “Do you really think I’m pretty?” she queried.

I kept from smirking. She’d never been in any sort of romantic situation before, and it was only natural that such thoughts would be present. I sat down next to her and put a hand on her arm. “Ann, men find healthy girls attractive. That’s only natural. But, as the proverb goes, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. When you leave here, after you are through with the experiments, it is my hope that others will see beauty, as well as good health.”

I had thought that would dampen any ardor she was experiencing, but she only smiled shyly and said: “Aunt Gerty told me that men all wanted one thing. I had sort of hoped … since I came here … that you might want that. From me, I mean. And then, this morning, it sort of looked like you did.”

I felt my brow furrow as I tried to reason my way out of this, but I left my hand on her arm. “For the sake of the experiments, I really need for you to remain a virgin. It’s very important to me. No matter how much I might want to ….”

She hastily interrupted. “But isn’t there some other way? I mean, you make me feel wonderful when you examine me on your table. Isn’t there SOME way I can do something for YOU? I mean, if you have a need, then can’t I fill that need somehow … even if we can’t … um ….”

“Enough,” I ordered firmly but quietly. “Start the program, please.”

She immediately blushed and lowered her gaze from my face demurely. “Yes, doctor,” she whispered; and she maneuvered the computer mouse, launching the program.

I sat back and considered this exchange for a long two minutes. When I dragged my attention back to her, she was sitting, leaning back slightly in her chair, relaxed, her mouth slack, her eyes unfocused but riveted on her spiral. “Sleep, Ann!” I commanded, and her eyes slammed shut as she collapsed back and slumped down, unmistakably asleep. I thought again about our exchange, but finally started the audio recording, put a set of headphones on her, then got up and walked around the room, considering.

After several turns, I looked at her from across the room. “I can’t resist this,” I said aloud to myself. “But, is there a way? Can I do this without …?”

“Yes, doctor,” Ann said succinctly. Shocked, I paused, wondering if she had heard me. “I am deeply hypnotized,” she said aloud. There was silence for almost fifteen seconds. “I am in my special place,” she continued. “I love it here. And only you can bring me to my special place.”

I nodded in understanding. She was only responding verbally to what she was hearing in the recording. She was deepening her trance as she heard my voice from the computer, allowing herself to be seduced by the concept of profound hypnotic control … which was all part of the process. I decided to leave; but nothing I did, back in the apartment, altered my frame of mind. It had been months since I had been with a woman … and his wouldn’t technically violate the agreement with Ardly, since I had no intention of taking her virginity. Oh God, I was going to do it. I was going to use her for purposes of sexual relief. There was no way I would be able to fight this any longer.

Back in the office, I removed the headset and unplugged it from the computer, which resulted in us hearing my droning instructions to her through the speakers. I waited for an appropriate gap in the soundtrack, then clicked the pause symbol on the screen. I took a ragged breath, looking down on my sleeping victim, and I tried to match my tone of voice to the recording. “I will ask you questions, Ann. And you will answer them. Are you ready?”

“Yes, doctor,” she replied at once.

“Do you remember coming to me this morning in my room?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“You noticed that I’d gotten an erection while you were sitting in my lap, didn’t you?”

She blushed. “Yes, doctor.”

“You know that you did that to me.”

She reached up and touched her hair, but her eyes remained closed, her body otherwise relaxed. “You think I’m pretty.”

“Do you realize that getting an erection places a strain on a man?”

She frowned. “A strain?”

“When YOU need sexual release, doesn’t it make you feel anxious and needy?”

“You … need me?”

“When I get like that, I need a release of sexual tension, just like you do sometimes. Before I put you into your trance ….”

“I love my trance,” she responded automatically, smiling dreamily.

“When we were talking; you indicated that you wanted to help me.”

“Oh, doctor, I DO!”

“This time, Ann, when I wake you up, I will let you help me. But, I want to let you know what you will see … and what you will experience … when you see my cock for the first time.”

“Your … cock?”

“My penis. We will call it my cock. I know that you will want to experience it using all of your senses.”

“My …?”

“You will want to see it, of course. You will find that you are always glad to see it, especially when it is hard. You will know that it is YOU that is having that effect on me. And it will thrill you to see it. You will want to see it. Always.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Always.”

“But you will take special pleasure in touching it … and knowing that I take special pleasure in having you touch me.”

“Touch it,” she said quietly. She was flexing the fingers of her right hand and rubbing them together.

“And you will thrill at the smell of it … and the taste.”

She gasped. “The taste?”

“Oh, yes. You will want to experience the act of giving me pleasure. You will want to relish the sight, the feel, the odor and the taste of it. Even the sound of pleasure, as you rub it and suck on it. You will want me to issue the sounds of pleasure, just like you do when you have sexual feelings.” She was breathing heavily, contemplating these things. “Yes … you will find that you really like the taste of me,” I continued. “It will taste like nothing you have ever experienced before … but you will find it pleasant, knowing that you are giving me pleasure by sucking me.”

“Sucking?”

“I will teach you as we go, Ann. You need not feel anything except exciting anticipation. Eventually, you will come to like it immensely … when you lead me up to my orgasm, and when I cum in your mouth.”

“It’s going to spit,” she said breathlessly. “It spits white stuff out. I saw it in a magazine that I found under Aunt Gerty’s mattress.”

I cut off a sputtered grunt of a laugh. Then I sobered and decided to get on with it. “We will not do this often, Ann. You must know that beforehand, and accept it. Also, it is imperative to the success of my experiments that you remain a virgin.”

“I must not touch myself,” she said, suddenly serious. “I won’t. I promise.”

I quickly went over it all one more time, stressing that she was going to enjoy this thing she was about to do. And when I was confident that this would all be so, I brought her out of her trance. As always, she yawned, stretched and smiled up at me from her slightly reclined position in the desk chair. But then, she assumed a look of studied interest in the direction of my crotch.

“Sir, can I … um ….”

“Stand up, Ann,” I ordered. She immediately did so, and I moved her so that I was now standing in front of the chair, facing her. “Now, kneel.” She blinked up at me, trying to comprehend what was happening. It seemed to dawn on her suddenly, and she dropped to her knees while continuing to look up into my eyes. I smiled with what I hoped was compassion; then, slowly, I undid my belt. This movement captured her attention, and she watched, rapt, as I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and lowered them to my knees. Beneath my briefs, I was hard, and her eyes locked on my bulge. “Pull down my underwear,” I ordered, and hesitantly, with shaking hands, she did so. She couldn’t avoid my stiff cock as she lowered the warm garment to my knees, and as it sprang forward and grazed her right cheek, she gasped and shivered.

I sat down on the chair, and with one hand, I worked the pants and underwear to my ankles, then I spread my knees and leaned back, my hard pole pointing toward the ceiling. Ann’s wide eyes were locked on it; and, mesmerized, she reached out and touched it experimentally. “What … um … should I do now, sir?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Try different things,” I answered authoritatively. “I’ll tell you what I like best.” She wrapped her fingers around the middle of my shaft and squeezed gently, then, after I moaned softly, she gripped me harder … and harder still. I said: “stroke it, please,” and she pulled downward without softening her hold, putting strain on the foreskin at the base of the head. I yelped at that. “More gently, please. Like this.” She had released some of the pressure, and I used the tips of my right fingers to guide her hand up and down, then I put my head back against the back of the chair and moaned at the feelings she was initiating. Encouraged, she quickened her pace.

“Like this?” she asked anxiously.

I nodded. “That feels great, Ann. You are reproducing the feelings of sexual intercourse. During sex, a man strokes in and out of a woman’s pussy, just like this.”

“If you had sex with me … it would make you feel like this?”

“Well … not quite. Your pussy would be warm … and wet.”

She continued to stroke me, thinking. “Like my mouth,” she said, nodding. “I should put it in my mouth, shouldn’t I?”

“That would be … wonderful, I’m sure. Keep stroking me like that, and suck with your mouth.”

She smiled and licked her lips. “And then it’s going to spit, isn’t it? It’s going to spit in my mouth.” I thought that a rather unsavory approximation of the act, but before I could comment, she leaned forward and engulfed the top third of my shaft with her lips. She immediately began sucking like a vacuum. Without my prompting, she gently grasped my testes with her left hand and used her combined grasps to keep me firmly entrenched in her mouth.

It’s time for a small confession here. I have always considered myself to be of average size, cock-wise … but from the beginning of my sexual experience, I’ve had problems with stamina. That is to say, premature ejaculation. There is, of course, no medical definition of what “premature” actually is … but most of us would define it as something that we WISH would last longer than it does in reality. I hear (professionally) that the problem begins to alleviate itself as a man advances in age through his 40’s and 50’s; and if I’m still penning these chronicles in fifteen years, I’ll let you know firsthand. Due to this perceived shortcoming (if you’ll pardon the pun), I’ve learned how to satisfy a woman using other means. I know just where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick and nibble and stroke and blow and pinch and a myriad of other techniques … and I’ve always, always brought my sexual partner to orgasm, one way or another. Interesting, isn’t it? Most of us assume that size and endurance are what a girl really wants … but the truth of the matter is that PATIENCE is what they really crave.

But … back to our story. I felt my balls tighten and I knew that my end was forthcoming. This experience was something new to me … demanding sexual satisfaction without feeling the need to reciprocate, I mean. I’d been feeling sexually frustrated all day; and so I just figured: fuck it. I relaxed and let the feeling wash over me like a tidal wave. Good Lord, I came hard! My head was back and my eyes were closed, so I wasn’t watching; but I heard Ann issue a surprised “MMMPH!” She held on and kept sucking for awhile, somehow; but then coughed, sputtered, sucked some more, then coughed again. Through it all, her left hand kept massaging my ball sack, while her right continued to stroke the base of my shaft up and down at the same steady rate. After many long seconds, I realized that I was straining my body upward toward her, then relaxing and repeating the arching motion, while my hoarse cries echoed in the room. With a final gasping, straining, squirting spasm, I collapsed back onto the chair, blissfully relaxed for the first time in a long, long time.

Finally, I looked down at her, and I felt my eyes widen in concern. She was literally covered in cum. It was in her hair, on her blouse, dripping from her cheeks and open mouth, clogging her nostrils. Her eyes were closed, and she reached up and wiped the spunk from them with the back of her left hand; then she looked up at me in wide-eyed, shocked wonder. “Doctor … I … I didn’t know … there would be so MUCH! I … I swallowed all I could, but … but it’s … um … so THICK!”

I stood up (though it was exceedingly difficult with my pants around my ankles) and extended a hand to her, which she took and allowed herself to be hoisted to her feet in front of me; then I held her in my arms like a lover for the first time. She struggled for a moment and said something about “getting it on me,” but eventually, she relaxed and put her arms around me, as well, burying her slimy face into my shoulder. “That was wonderful, Ann. Thank you,” I told her.

“I … I was okay?” she asked, blinking and looking up at me. “OH! I’ve ruined your shirt!”

I laughed. “It will wash out. Now, go and get cleaned up.” She hesitated, looking questioningly into my eyes. “GO!” I barked, laughing again. And I spun her around and swatted her on the fanny.

She gave a small shriek, then giggled and ran off.