Not A Real Doctor – Page 8 – Just another Adult Content site

“Nineteen hours. How is our little prisoner holding up?”

“Oh, she’s broken. Has been since late yesterday. At this point the only thing keeping her from babbling every secret we could possibly want is the gag in her mouth.”

“She certainly exhibits all the signs. Pupil dilation, rhythmic groaning, humping the toy like an animal. Has she been permitted to come yet?”

“She almost got there once, but we think we caught it in time. A bucket of ice water brought her back. No slip-ups since then. She’s been held at the edge so long she’s practically putty.”

“So do we plan to ask her any questions?”

“We ask plenty, we just don’t let her answer. Increases her desperation, plus we’re recording the whole thing to prove to her bosses that she hasn’t given away anything sensitive. She’s a much more valuable for barter if she hasn’t been unsealed, so to speak.”

“How long will it take to get the recording to them?”

“A few more days. And they’ll need a week to decide on terms after that.”

“Nineteen hours. I wonder what she’ll be like by the time she finally leaves.”

“If her predecessors are any indication, Ma’am, in her own mind she’ll never really leave at all.”

Did I fucking SAY you could touch yourself?

Once captured, secured, and tattooed with a serial number just above the left breast, new slaves are randomly paired up to keep them from becoming overly stressed or injuring themselves in confinement. When this program was first tested, there was some concern that the pairing would cause increased resistance or infighting, but time has proven it highly effective. Regular doses of aerosol-borne aphrodisiac keep both girls thoroughly busy until auction time.

Oooh, I’m so sorry, number two, but you lose! Twenty strokes with the belt on that greedy little pussy, and then back to a month of no-touch for you.

New game: you both get to come if you can keep the eight-ball from slipping out from between you.

Behavior correction case file #108: Lillian. Subject arrived at the Institute intoxicated, with what she claimed was a “groupon,” entitling her to “sexy orgasm lessons.” Subject became belligerent and demanded to learn how to achieve female ejaculation. Her phrasing at the time was “don’t you guys do this kinda stuff? I wanna squirt, dammit!”

Lillian ejaculated for the first time within fifteen minutes of initiating therapy. As of this writing, one week into continued work with her, she has been induced to ejaculatory orgasm 82 times. While she expressed increasingly strident regret and anger about entering the Institute once sobriety returned, such behavior is common among new patients, and can be ignored under the terms of the release she signed voluntarily.

At any rate, as treatment continues, the subject is less and less vocal and seems to have difficulty articulating complex ideas or indeed finishing sentences. The current goal of her program is to mold her body into a training model for future ejaculatory therapy, to be stored and “checked out” by staff and instructors as needed. When not in use, she will be mechanically stimulated to orgasm once per hour, and hydrated by means of throat intubation.

If this pilot program is successful, we envision a growing library of such single-focus training models, possibly to be housed in the unoccupied room B of the annex. Other useful exemplars might include electrostim, extravulvar orgasm, trigger-word subconscious response, or gag reflex suppression.

You know you’ve been skimming too much porn when you slow your scroll because you’re pretty sure you just saw an NES Zapper.

This one’s dirty. Throw it in the machine.

Remember, littles, if you don’t go to sleep Santa won’t come.

And neither will you.

This is a sentiment I see quite a bit on subby blogs, and I totally get why, but I think there’s a corollary that should be made explicit: it’s true, painfully true, for those of us who top as well.

A genuine fact about me: my hearing is unusually acute, and has remained so into my thirties, when most men start losing the ability to hear higher frequencies. I can hear a phone chime with a new text two floors away; I can pick you out of a crowd by the sound of your keyring when you put your hand in your purse.

That’s why I gave you this assignment. Yes, you spent long enough pleading with me for an orgasm that I decided to grant you one, on the condition that you get yourself off between seven and seven-fifteen this evening. Yes, that is in fact when my guests will be arriving for dinner. Yes, the four of us will be right in the next room.

I wouldn’t want your needy pussy to disturb anyone while we have company, and I think you know what will happen to you later if any of them notices or casts a suspicious glance at the bedroom door. You know the rules now. This is the only chance to come you’ll get this week, and possibly this month. But rest assured, girl, when I say not to make a single sound,

fucking

mean it.

Go ahead and keep humping the air, girl. You know you’re not coming until I say so.

“The field’s in full effect, then? No interference this time?”

“Right. We got the resonance ironed out. As long as the generator is powered, any woman who sets foot in that room will drop to her knees and fuck anything she sees—her own hand, if nothing else is available. Switch it off, they look confused and start to pull their clothes back up. Switch it on again, and they’re desperate little fuckbunnies until they collapse from exhaustion.”

“I see Jared’s conducting a controlled experiment.”

“He loves this work.”

“Any research yet on what happens if we strap them down tight enough to preclude masturbation and just… wait?”

“None yet. Intending to run your own experiment?”

“No worries. I can let Jared finish up first.”

Believe it or not, the majority of our treatment subjects at the Institute are admitted voluntarily.* They arrive for a number of reasons: anorgasmia, nymphomania, loss of libido, fulfillment of court-ordered therapy, a desire to be relieved of urges they don’t understand–or, on several occasions, an overabundance of curiosity.

The root of all these issues is misperception. It is a common and wildly incorrect belief that, with sufficient discipline and willpower, the mind can achieve primacy over the body it inhabits. There may even be people in the world for whom this is true, but for all of the listed disorders, such is obviously not the case. The body, for these women, is an instrument of sensation that acts upon the mind.

All our work at the Institute approaches a single principle: the extension of control from the doctor, through the subject’s flesh, into what we might unscientifically call her soul. The mind will struggle–oh, it will struggle, because if it were capable of an orderly surrender you would not be in such a condition that you need our help. But slowly, inevitably, it will yield.

At that point, the sensational instrument of your body can be put to a variety of innovative uses. Say, fucktoy rotation on Level 9.

* Oh, and the ones who don’t enter voluntarily? By the time treatment takes effect, they all admit that they should have.

p-o-r-n-b-l-o-g:

this is genius.

Actually, you only need one hand for this.

And don’t

fucking

come.

“You shut up!”

“No, YOU shut up!”

“There is only ONE WAY to resolve this!”

Hello. This is for one of you specifically: the one who hits the heart button on practically everything I post here, trying to send me wordless messages, saving them to your little private stash for recycling later. I know already that you like being told what to do. So I’m telling you.

Strip from the waist down and pull up your favorites list. Start playing with yourself. Keep your top on for now. You can linger or scroll as much as you like–I know you’ve got plenty of things in there to stimulate the imagination–but for now you are to use only your fingers. You may use lubricant if it’s close at hand. Penetrate yourself between minutes spent on your clit.

Has it been ten minutes yet? I hope you didn’t think you were allowed to climax yet. Remove your top and bra, if any; by now the only clothing you are permitted to keep wearing is your socks. Have your vibrator handy, but don’t touch it yet. Use one hand to play with your breasts, the other on your clit, until you see a full-color gif of a subject you wish was you.

You’ll begin using your toy now. Find a post in your favorites that is at least four paragraphs of text long. Without making a sound, read the entire thing to yourself, moving your lips silently around each word.

When you feel yourself getting close, turn the vibrator up as high as you can stand it, penetrate yourself with your other hand and come. Now. Every minute you keep from coming after reading that order is punishment to be handed out later. You’re going to get off for me in exactly the way I specify, and if you fail, I will have my satisfaction from you.

You will not be easy on yourself with this orgasm. Keep the toy against your clit even if you start to feel overloaded and painfully sensitive; ride out every last pulse and toe clench. If you come more than once, don’t stop until you have to. Treat your body in exactly the way you imagine I would: I don’t care if you’re satisfied, I care whether your cunt satisfies me.

Did you do as you were told? I should have known. You’ve been a very good girl this evening. When you’re all finished up, I would like you to thank me.

Aloud.

And every half hour, we swap them.

Behavior correction case file #82: Lucy. Subject is an exhibitionist who enjoys withholding; she has chosen to decorate her body with piercings and extensive tattoos, which she enjoys flaunting, but has very rarely been observed to do anything more than lead on her admirers for attention, privilege and financial outlay.

Lucy will be taught to understand that her body is property, and communal property at that. We’ve set up a special rig in the entrance hall of the Institute, the one with the glass floor that opens down over the subterranean levels. She has been installed there in a rope harness which can be repositioned with ease, and a timer indicating the minutes she has been left untreated. The counter has only two digits; we expect it will not need more.

Given that the Institute is run on a 24-hour shift system, there should be no difficulty in ensuring that the subject is in near-constant use. A jar of lubricant, bridle, electrical stimulus device, and various other tools are available from the check-in desk. Orgasm is not to be strictly avoided, but not encouraged either–employ a clitoral clamp if necessary. The subject will not be addressed directly during her stay here, but may be discussed as an object in the third person within her hearing.

At the conclusion of each week of training, Lucy will be pressed flat to the glass floor while staff members watch from below, stimulated via heavy vibration until sensory overload, and then asked to choose her next tattoo from a selection of words and symbols indicating her status. Charting her pliability and eagerness to accept such markings should lead to a good indication of her treatment progress. When she starts begging for the next one before we can even get the needle humming, we’ll know she’s on her way to being cured.

Stage two: pierce her clitoral hood, fold her into one of the transparent lockers in the hallway on 6B, and set up oscillating electromagnet for continuous stim.