Pity Sara, a sexy but undersexed woman who has tried everything, from dildos and vibrators, to men of every race and size, to even the dreaded Sybian machine. But she has never had a real earth-shaking, hair-pulling orgasm! She is 30 years old and still looking for her “Prince Charming”. (And that’s code talk between her friends for the penis that finally gives her the big one) Her best friend Hillary has an idea: she can meet with Doctor Richardson, a handsome young doctor with a dark secret. Hillary has never tried Doctor Richardson homemade cures for sexual healing herself, but tells Sara that the rumors from her friends suggest that he is 100% effective at what he does—judging from the women who come out of his office crying happy tears. Sara meets the doctor and thinks he’s drop dead gorgeous, though she’s still a little intimidated to begin treatment. Especially since Richardson says she must be very open minded to his unconventional treatment. Imagine Sara’s surprise and kinky discomfort when she finds out Doctor Richardson has two clinics, one is public and the other very private one is hidden within the same building. This is the special BDSM dungeon specially made for his “difficult patients.” The doctor informs her that it is safe…but that in order for the one-hour session to work, she has to be totally trusting and obedient. Will she accept the offer and if she does, will she last for the entire, excruciating hour?
Warning: This 8,000+ word erotica story contains graphic language, erotic situations, hardcore BDSM, anal sex, domination, submission, Sadism, Masochism, humiliation and this is very much a story for adults (18+)
I followed the doctor back to his private office, a rather simple and unassuming place, but guarded behind a solid door with a latch, a chain and a lock, all of which he unlocked with three keys from his large keychain. Someone was obsessively private!
“Don’t mind the locks. I have had thieves come and steal from me recently.”
He led me to his desk and offered me a seat.
“You are here because you cannot experience pleasure,” he said straightly staring a whole through my face to my pelvis, which was already feeling the heat.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “You might say that. My whole life—”
He gestured with his hand and cut me off. “I can help you. But if you want my help you must keep an open mind. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I replied as my pulse raced.
“I will have recommendations and ‘prescriptions’ for your treatment. You cannot disregard these because this will invalidate the treatment. I am a very busy man. I do not appreciate my time being wasted.”
“And as always, whatever happens between us will remain entirely confidential. No telling friends or relatives what happens behind these closed doors. There will be consequences if this rule is broken.”