justifiedsurrender – Not A Real Doctor

justifiedsurrender:

I don’t know why I can’t get enough today, I got a nice hard fuck earlier and my boyfriend let me use the toy to cum while he was inside me. Then a couple hours later he let me cum again, and here I am still rubbing my clit as I scroll through tumblr, feeling like an insatiable little fuckslut. I guess once last night and once this afternoon isn’t enough for me, it just makes me want more. Makes me crave more until I feel like I’m nothing but this hole between my legs, waiting to get used again. @doctortease, does the Institute have a treatment for this feeling?

Behavior Correction Case File #451: Justice. Subject displays excessive libido, to the point of interference with her day-to-day life, comorbid by exaggerated focus on her own genitalia and a self-centered objectification fantasy. Subject displays high-risk behavior by reaching out to strangers on the Internet to deal with these issues.

While one might read Justice’s dossier and decide that an “insatiable little fuckslut” is exactly what the Institute aims to produce, her case in fact demonstrates a known issue encountered in later stages of treatment. The issue centers on self-absorption. Even after accepting an orgasm control regimen and having her self-concept reduced to “nothing but a hole,” the subject may end up in a psychological cul-de-sac where her own satisfaction is both paramount and unattainable.

We at the Institute, of course, wish nothing more than to help our subjects transcend such obstacles on the road to becoming their best selves. The first step for Justice is a hard reset–a period of weeks during which she will be used, punished, rewarded or locked away in the dark completely at random, until she can no longer imagine a logical pattern of reinforced behavior and all previous training is effectively erased. This is traditionally quite hard on the subject, but necessary, and within the parameters of her assessed resilience.

When she’s ready, we will begin again from scratch, focusing on the following points: that her pleasure is someone else’s choice, and has no relationship to satisfaction; that insatiable need is a baseline state, and comforting; and that in addition to her vagina and vulva, all her orifices are of equal importance, and dedicated to the use of others.

This treatment plan will be effective if followed properly. Nonetheless, there is significant risk that Justice will fall back into her current pattern if not closely monitored for deviation from expected progress. Cases such as hers are among our most important work, so no matter how many times we have to reset her and start over, we are committed to doing this right.

justifiedsurrender:

Honestly I really wish there was something that could (for awhile) make me physically unable to cum without permission. Anything so that I could stay right on the edge, trying as hard as can but I can’t get over. Reduced to a writhing, desperate, begging slut who’d do anything you wanted, but you still say no.

What an interesting idea.

Jewel

She’d been a little nervous, at the clinic, as they lifted up the silly little gown and rubbed the topical anesthetic onto her. He’d held her hand, and winked at her, reminding her of the time they’d tried playing with numbing gel to desensitize her. (It hadn’t worked, of course; she just got too excited, too sensitive inside, and came anyway. Hair-trigger girl, she scolded herself.)

But her anxiousness was unfounded: she didn’t feel a thing as they did the installation, and it only took a few minutes. The crystal pattern they’d picked out together was a little extra, but he’d been more than happy to pay for it. “I like that you’ll be able to see it when you look down, just a little,” he said, holding the mirror for her as she gently traced her finger around the edges, watching it glitter as she breathed. “I like knowing that you’ll remember, even if the implant’s turned off.”

“And how often are you going to turn it off?” she smirked.

It turned out the answer was “never.”

It drove her fucking crazy. As soon as it became clear she wasn’t allowed to come, wasn’t ABLE to come, it was all she could think about. She thought about it at work, in the car, at her book club, at dinner. Her friends started teasing her about her attention span because of how often she got caught staring off at nothing, lips slightly parted, lost in embarrassing thought. The whole situation kept her so wet that she had to start carrying a spare pair of panties in her bag–then two pairs. When she opened it at the end of the day, she could smell her own need, and she usually had to shove a hand up her skirt and edge right then and there.

That only made it worse, of course. She’d known the implant would let her edge but not go over, but she hadn’t known, really known how high and keen that edge could be. It was a ragged knife inside her, a clamp on her brainstem, a drug that hooked her on her own cunt. He didn’t even need to get out her vibrator–though he still did anyway, sometimes. Just his cock or his fingers inside her were enough to send a spike of desperation all the way up her spine, and there was absolutely, positively no answer to her screamed or whimpered prayers.

“So,” he said softly in her ear, spent and satisfied as she lay there, breathing, lost in the throb of her own constant need. “Four weeks since the appointment. This is when we were going to decide whether to keep it, right?”

“Uh huh,” she managed, as if she’d had any idea. Had it been a day already? Had it not been a year?

He traced one finger from her mouth down her throat, over her arching belly, to brush the sparkling glow between her legs. Her body was immediately ready, deep ache wrapped around sharp pleasure. “What’s it like to be a hair-trigger girl,” he asked, “when the safety’s on?”

“Dangerous,” she whispered, and let him pin her into place again.