After she’d taken the first splash like a champ, her entire body had silently begged for more. She squirmed and undulated. Never have I been more pleased to see a woman with a bare pussy, knowing my wax would go there. Only on the outside because I had better plans for her clit than to desensitize it with pain.
When her legs spread, I have to admonish her. “Not there.”
Not ever there.
Twisting my body, I set the lit soy candle on the small table beside the bed. I don’t extinguish it, but I’m not sure I’ll use it again. The candle they gave me is white, and the wax covering her from breast to groin looks like loads of semen splashed all over her body.
I push up from the bed, leaving the woman lying there to wonder what will come next. I’ve been impressed she’s following the rules, which means she’s invested in being under my control.
Removing my suit jacket, I head over to the set of built-in cabinets on the far wall. I toss my jacket on a chair in the corner, then loosen my tie. In the cabinet, I pull out the vibrator I’d requested. It’s about a foot and a half long with a narrow handle and a bulbous protrusion on the end that vibrates at an impressive speed. To ensure power, it’s electric rather than battery operated, and I’ve seen this tool practically destroy a woman.
In the best possible way, that is.
She’s holding perfectly still as I return to the bed. Head raised just slightly and tilted my way as she struggles to listen and perhaps glean what will happen next. I wouldn’t tell her even if I could.
But I can’t because I have no idea. I’m winging this. Playing it by ear and I’m admittedly slightly off balance. The fact that my dick is hard as a rock right now is disconcerting. It became that way the minute I let the first splash of wax fall on her breast and she reacted so beautifully. Hating the pain, loving the pleasure, and then, in turn, learning to love and anticipate the pain once again. Yeah, my cock thickened and pressed painfully against my zipper and it’s shocking. Despite all the debauchery I’ve experienced in this place in the last few months since I started attending, my body hasn’t quite reacted the way a normal thirty-six-year-old man’s body should. It takes a lot to get me going these days, and I don’t need my own neurologist, psychiatrist, or any other medical professional to tell me it’s all in my head.
Meaning the one that sits above my shoulders.
My dick hasn’t worked right since the accident because sex and love were too intertwined for me before. It’s abhorrent they should be entwined again.
And yet, here I am in The Wicked Horse, risking that again.
But I have no choice. I have to risk it. Because at least when I’m here, even if it takes me a while to succumb to pleasure, at least I feel something. In the last year of my life, I’ve gone from suffering unimaginable pain to feeling nothing at all. I was so tired of hurting all the time—of missing my family so badly I’d thought of ending things for good—that I knew I had to do something drastic.
And then one day… I think my psyche just decided to put up a barrier to emotion. Defensively, it learned the best way to protect myself from the hurt was to ignore it. And I did such an excellent job of it I willed it into non-existence. Along with most every other feeling.
My compassion for my patients seems to have dried up. My camaraderie for my friends is gone. Familial love has gone cold because sometimes I can’t even stand to look at my parents and brother. Food tastes bland. The air smells stale. Even my dreams have no meaning and are boring. The only thing that gives me the slightest bit of satisfaction, and it’s not even joy anymore like it used to be, is performing a successful operation. But hell… most of what I do in the human brain is rote work. Even that has sort of gone to autopilot and while I feel good if I save a patient, I can’t say I feel bad if I lose one.
I’m fucking broken, and I’m trying to get something back. Some sort of feeling.
The last few months have been an interesting experiment. My first few visits here were good, and I thought I’d perhaps found a cure. The orgasms were good, but how could they not be with the level of kink pervading this place?
But then, like with everything else in my life, the goodness faded and the experiences dulled to the point I was about ready to give up my membership.