“Hi there, Alexander,” he said, extending his hand.
“Actually it’s…”
“I know, Alexandra. You’ve been coming here for, what, six years? Seven? I heard my assistant was making a fool of himself. I couldn’t resist. Sorry,” he grinned. There was something vaguely menacing behind his smile. Not that he seemed threatening or dangerous, but mischievous.
“So, what seems to be the trouble?” He sat and rolled back and forth on his little stool. “Here, please relax while you explain what brings you in today. Remember, I’m your doctor. Try not to be embarrassed about whatever it is that’s troubling you.”
He gave me a hand to balance on as I climbed up and sat on the table. Butcher paper crinkled.
“Well, it’s a little embarrassing I guess,” I began, “but basically my husband and I – well, our sex life has dried up. I think there must be something wrong with me.”
“I see,” he replied, “how did you come to this conclusion?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and penetrated me with his deep stare. I noticed his high, gorgeous cheekbones then for the first time. I noticed just how powerful he looked. His eyes tracked up and down my body before coming back to the level with mine. The doctor did not, at all, hide what he was doing. His brazenness caught me a little by surprise.
“It just is. It has to be. Nothing’s wrong with Walter.”
“Mhm.” He rolled closer on the stool. “Lie back, please, I’ll see if I can find anything suspicious. Disrobe, please. Would you like me to leave the room?”
That’s strange, never had him ask me before. Usually he just leaves. “Well, no, I suppose not,” I laughed nervously, “nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Dr. Blumfield’s lips smiled. His eyes did not.
“Often, in cases like this, we find that the husband – or the male partner, whatever the case – is actually inadequate. He often convinces the female she is at fault as a way to hide those feelings. But, I’m not a psychotherapist, so I shouldn’t continue. Something to keep in mind, anyway.”
By the time he had finished, I had undressed and resumed my seat.
“Good. Feet in the stirrups, please. Oh, I forgot – would you like a gown?”
I have to admit that, even though his bedside manner was rather careless, his disaffection with the whole proceeding had me more than a little bit excited. I hoped that he didn’t notice my nipples. Or how wet I was beginning to get.
“N-no, that’s not necessary,” I stammered, “thank you though.”
“Fine. Stirrups, please.”
I winced, expecting the footrests to be cold steel, like they usually are, but they were actually rather pleasant. Soft, but firm.
“Do you like them? No cold steel. Benefits of private practice.”
Just as I got both feet in place, Dr. Blumfield popped his gloves into place, lowered a surgical mask across his face and stood between my legs, staring.
“Is there something wrong, doctor?”
“No, no, on the contrary, Alexandra.”
“Alex is fine.”
“Good. On the contrary, Alex, I very much like what I see. However, there is something I would like to do, if you’re not opposed. Recently, I prefer to restrain my patients. I find that the ability to move makes people more likely to jerk around. It might seem strange at first but it seems to make people more comfortable. Especially in these sorts of situations.”
Restraint? I’ve been trying to get Walter to tie me up and gag me for years. I – no, no, certainly that’s not what he means. He’s so calm. So beautifu… Alex, what the hell are you thinking? This is just your doctor!
“Yes, of course doctor, whatever you think to be best.”
His eyes burned as he looked at me. I felt a very strange sort of warmth creep down my belly, between my legs. I really, really hope he doesn’t notice my nipples. I can’t believe I feel like this. I haven’t wanted a man this bad in… Alex! Stop it! Listen to yourself!
The sound of a well-used leather belt interrupted my thoughts.
“I find these old leather restraints best. They’re warm. Not cold and impersonal like the plastic ones on modern exam tables. Don’t you think?”
Holy shit was all I could think. As he cinched the age-softened leather around my ankle, he watched my face. For some reason, I sucked in a deep breath. The way he was gazing at me, how he spoke, it just did something to me.
Then he tightened it another notch. I let out a little squeal as the belt bit into my flesh. I could have swung my other foot over, clocked him a good one on the side of the head. But, truth be told, I loved how it felt to be helpless. That warmth from earlier spread between my legs and I felt a tiny trickle of my own juice run down my slit.
On my other ankle, he cinched it down hard and fast. Oh my God it hurt. Oh my God it felt good.
“Doctor Blumfield! It’s so tight! I… oh it’s so tight.”
“It feels good, doesn’t it? How long have you wanted Walter to do this for you? How many times have you begged him? Pleaded with him? For months? Maybe for years?”
How did he know?
“H-how did you know?”
“I can tell. You look like someone that’s chronically unsatisfied. Just like me. We’re kindred spirits, I guess.” The face mask obscured his expressions, but his eyes were so alive, so bright that I almost felt like he was talking to me through them.
“Lie back.”
I did.
“I can tell already there’s nothing wrong with you. Except that you have a husband who is sexually useless. He must be small. Is that right?”