Page 18 of Doctor Stuff

I already know I’m not going to go back and ask for them right now.

Maybe I’ll find the courage when I come back next week.

Chapter 4

“Did you masturbate this past week, Traci?” Dr. John’s question makes me drop my gaze down to the carpet. This week I wore another sundress with buttons down the front. Dr. John had me take it off as soon as I was in his office.

I hadn’t bothered to put any underwear or bra on this time, so I’m completely naked, and rather than letting me sit on the couch, I’m standing in front of it. Legs spread shoulder width apart, my hands behind my head to push my breasts out in front of me.

“Yes,” I whisper, answering his question.

Even though he’d told me not to. I hadn’t even made it out of the building after my last appointment before I’d had my fingers in my pussy again.

“How often did you masturbate?”

I continue to study my knees as heat rises in my cheeks. I don’t want to answer him. I can’t even look at him.

“Every day?”

I wince and nod.

Sometimes twice a day. Three times yesterday, imagining what might happen when I got here. But I don’t say that, I just stay silent. Bad enough admitting how often I’ve masturbated thinking about him.

Dr. John makes a disapproving noise and I want to shrink into nothing. I kind of figured that once I’d already disobeyed, what was the point? But now I wish I’d at least tried harder. I want him to fuck me, but from the noise he just made, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost that opportunity.

Last week I sucked his cock.

Maybe he’ll let me do that again.

Why I want to be my therapist’s sexual plaything, I have no idea, but it’s almost like I’m addicted to him. Addicted to what he does to me. How he makes me feel. God, I want him to fuck me so bad. My pussy pulses between my legs at the thought, and it takes all my willpower not to shove my hands between them and rub another orgasm out. Except that I don’t want my fingers – I want him. Part of the reason I needed to masturbate so much was because it wasn’t enough. It didn’t fully satisfy me.

“I’m very disappointed, Traci, but we’ll deal with that at the end of this session.” His voice holds so much disappointment that I want to melt down into the floor. No such luck. Instead, I stand in the middle of his office, naked, my breasts thrust out in front of me, pussy throbbing between my spread legs, while he conducts my therapy session.

I answer any question he asks me, just like always, because I’m that desperate for his touch. His attention. The moment when he focuses on me instead of that damn clipboard.

The session goes by quickly. It always does. And then he’s putting the clipboard to the side and my heart starts to pound in my chest in anticipation, my entire body coming alive. My nipples are already hard, but it feels like they become extra sensitive, so tight and needy. My skin buzzes with electricity, my clit throbbing in time with my nipples, as my tongue flicks out to lick my lips.

“Crawl to me, Traci.”

My mouth waters as I drop to my hands and knees, tits swaying beneath me as I crawl to Dr. John. My gaze lifts up to eagerly meet his before dropping back down to the bulge at the front of his pants.

But he doesn’t go for his belt the way he did last week. Instead, he pats his lap.

“Over my lap.”

I stare at him for a long moment and he raises one silver eyebrow at me.

“That’s an additional ten. Now, Traci, over my lap.”

My brain finally realizes he’s serious. And that I’ve just earned myself an additional punishment for not being quick enough to obey.

I scramble up and over his lap, panting slightly as our bodies touch. The expensive fabric of his pants feels almost rough against my sensitized skin. I can feel his cock digging into my side as he uses one hand to pull me closer against him. I whimper as I stare down at the carpet where my hands are now pressed, helping me keep my position over my therapist’s thighs.

“Keep those legs spread,” he commands, smacking his fingertips against my pussy, and I cry out as I quickly spread my legs apart.

That stung like fire on my poor, throbbing pussy, and yet it sent my arousal soaring as much as if he’d rubbed my clit instead of spanking it. I whimper as my body continues to tingle in the aftermath, so wet and needy.

“Fifty for being a bad girl and masturbating after I told you not to, and then another ten for not going over my lap when I told you to.” His hand rubs over my ass and I don’t need to ask what he means by fifty and ten. I bite my lip to keep from saying something sassy and making my situation worse. “You have a problem with authority, Traci, but we’ll work on that. Now, be a good girl and be quiet while you take your punishment.”