What the Doctor Did to Me, and I’ll Never Tell at Home

It had been two weeks since I’d slept well. Something kept tightening inside me every time I closed my eyes, a mix of accumulated tension and a physical discomfort I couldn’t quite name. Damián watched me toss and turn in bed and offered me water, patience, white noise. Nothing worked.

—You should see a doctor —he told me one morning, while tying his shoes to leave for work—. I’ll go with you if you want.

—No, honey. I can handle these things myself.

I lied to him with a smile. The truth was that the night before I’d already looked up a doctor online, and the idea of him coming with me made me uneasy for reasons I preferred not to examine yet.

Dra. Aldana had an expensive website, one of those with minimalist typography and testimonials written in italics. In the profile photo she wore a white coat open over a silk shirt, broad shoulders, hair pulled back into a low bun. There was something in her gaze that didn’t quite fit the polished professional calm she projected. Something that made me look twice. An intuition only women understand once we’ve learned to read bodies before we read words.

That woman wasn’t exactly a woman.

I booked the first available appointment.

***

The practice was in a glass building in the northern district, with a lobby that smelled of leather and imported coffee. A receptionist with discreet headphones had me sign a form and asked for my card. When I saw the amount on the screen, I nearly choked on my saliva.

—Is there a problem, ma’am?

—No, no, sorry. Charge it, please.

I wasn’t going to be able to pay it. I knew it the instant the card gave that silent little click of rejection, that feeling only someone who has lived through the humiliation of an insufficient balance understands. But I was already there, the appointment confirmed and my body tight with nerves, and I wasn’t going to turn around.

—Come in, the doctor is waiting for you.

***

Dra. Aldana in person was even more impressive than in the photo. Taller than I’d estimated, with a posture that took up the whole width of the office. She wore an ivory blouse under the coat, and her nipples showed through every time she took a deep breath. She had long hands, fine fingers, and a firm jaw unlike any woman’s I had ever seen before.

She led me into an adjoining room, pointed out where to leave my clothes, and gave me a paper gown.

—When you’re ready, I’ll knock and come in —she said in a low, husky voice that ran down my back to the nape of my neck.

I nodded without saying a word.

While I undressed, my head would not stop. What was I going to tell her when she came back? That I couldn’t pay? That I’d chosen the wrong professional? And while I thought all that, another part of me, the one I’ve known well for years, was already calculating other things. I was already getting wet between the legs just imagining what lay beneath the doctor’s tailored trousers.

When she came in, she found me sitting on the exam table, the gown half-open and my legs crossed to one side. It wasn’t an accident. The paper opening left one breast almost completely bare, with the stiff nipple pointed at her face.

—Sorry, Doctor —I began, holding her gaze—. I have to confess something. I didn’t come prepared to pay for this appointment. I got the prices wrong and… here I am.

Her expression hardened in a split second.

—This isn’t a market, ma’am. There’s an ATM two blocks away. If you can’t pay, come back when you can.

But she didn’t move. And that was the only thing I needed to know.

—It’s just that… —I lowered my voice and touched her knee with the tips of my fingers, very gently—. It’s hard for me to find women like you. Women who understand… from the other side. Who know what it feels like from both places.

That sentence pinned her to her chair. I saw her swallow, saw her jaw shift almost imperceptibly, saw her hand stay still on her thigh. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped half an octave.

—I don’t know what you’re talking about.

—Yes, you do. And so do I.

I slid my hand up her thigh slowly, without rushing. That was when I felt it. Under the fabric of the tailored trousers, a hardness unlike anything else I could have mistaken for something else. It was throbbing. I squeezed her cock over the fabric and felt the full length of it, trapped and hungry, pressing into my palm. The doctor closed her eyes for a second and breathed through her nose.

—I shouldn’t… —she murmured.

—But you do.

***

I opened the button of her trousers with one hand. She didn’t stop me. She didn’t open her eyes. I lowered the zipper tooth by tooth, my mouth already watering, and slid my fingers inside the black boxer briefs until I closed my hand around her cock. When I brought it out into the light, I was startled by the weight, the temperature, the thickness. It was rock-hard and slick with its own tension, throbbing against my palm as if it had an urgency of its own. The thick purple head, with a heavy bead of pre-cum hanging from the tip. I wiped it with my thumb and brought it to my mouth to suck it slowly, watching her.

—Heal me, Doctor. I’m a very good patient.

I slid off the exam table and knelt on the cold office floor. I took her cock with both hands, one over the other, and still I had extra glans left over. I licked it from the base, following the thick vein running along the underside, all the way to the tip. There I paused for a second, breathing on it, letting her feel my warm breath before opening my mouth and taking her in all the way to the back of my throat.

The doctor let out a rough groan, gripping the edge of the table. Her thigh started trembling under my free hand. I sucked her with hunger, my tongue wrapping her head on each rise, letting my mouth fill with saliva and drooling all over her cock until strings ran down over her balls. I took those too, squeezing them gently, and she buried her hand in my hair and gripped the back of my neck.

—Whore —she said through clenched teeth—. You’re a whore.

—Yes, Doctor —I murmured around a mouthful—. Your whore.

She drove into my throat a couple of times, and I felt the gag reflex rise and tears fill my eyes, but I didn’t pull away. I kept sucking her until she had to pry me off herself by yanking my hair, because she was about to come and didn’t want it to end like that.

—Up —she panted—. On the table. Now.

I turned around on the table and rested my knees on the edge, giving her my back. The table made a metallic sound when she settled in behind me. She tore the paper gown off me in one yank, took my hips with those long hands she’d kept hidden in her pockets, and squeezed them so hard I thought I’d be left with marks. She parted my ass with her thumbs and looked at my soaked cunt for a few seconds, breathing hard.

—Look at her dripping —she said, her voice coiled tight—. You came in all hot and bothered from the street, ma’am.

She ran the head of her cock along the lips of my cunt from top to bottom, coating herself well with my wetness, barely touching my clit on each pass. I pushed my ass back, looking for her, but she kept retreating on purpose.

—Please —I begged.

—Please what.

—Fuck me.

—Say it properly.

—Put your cock in me, Doctor. Break me.

She entered without warning.

I screamed into the paper padding. She filled me in a way I’d never felt before, and for one second all I could do was hold on and breathe. I felt every centimeter opening me, stretching me, fitting itself all the way in until her balls struck my clit. Then something else came, deeper, more obscene. The doctor moved with a technique that belonged to no amateur, with a rhythm learned in some other bed, on some other night I would never know. Every thrust ripped a sound out of me I didn’t think I knew how to make. I felt her in my guts, in my stomach, almost in my throat.

—Stay like that, ma’am —she told me in my ear, gripping me harder and harder—. Hold on. This is what you came for.

—Yes, yes, yes —I panted, my tits bouncing against the padded edge—. Harder, please, harder.

She pulled all the way out of me in one tug, made me open my legs wider, and drove back into me in a single thrust. I let out a shriek that ricocheted off the tiles. I could feel my cunt squeezing her, hear the wet slap of sex filling the office along with our breathing and the springs of the table.

She grabbed my hair, bent my head back, and made me look at her over my shoulder. Her eyes weren’t the eyes of the doctor from the website. They were someone else’s. The eyes of someone who knows exactly what she’s holding in her hands.

—Who sent you here? —she asked me, with a smile that wasn’t kind—. Who told you you’d find what you were looking for?

—Nobody —I panted—. I found you myself.

—Liar.

She let go of my hair and shoved my face down against the table. She slid her thumb, wet with my own arousal, into my ass without asking permission, and drove it in to the first knuckle while she kept fucking my cunt. I almost came right there. My breath caught. Everything caught.

—Do you like that, whore? Do you like being filled from both sides?

—Yes, Doctor, yes, yes…

She kept pounding me with a rhythm that grew rougher and rougher, relentless, unforgiving, with her thumb going in and out of my ass in time with her cock in my cunt. I was clenching my fists on the disposable paper, feeling it tear under my fingers. The office smelled of disinfectant, expensive perfume, and sweat. It was a smell that would haunt me for weeks. My cheek against the plastic table left marks I would later have to hide with makeup, but at that moment I didn’t care about any of it. All I cared about was that she didn’t stop.

I came twice before she did. The first one hit me all at once, with a spasm that bent my knees and made me clamp down on her cock like a fist. The doctor laughed softly without stopping her thrusts.

—Good girl —she said—. Again.

She caught my clit with two fingers and started rubbing it in circles while she kept fucking me, and the second time I came screaming into the paper, biting the pad so I wouldn’t tear my throat apart.

When she came, she did it in silence, all inside. I felt the pulsing, spurting shot after shot, the heat of her load spreading through me, and a shiver that ran from the nape of my neck down to my heels. She stayed pressed against my ass for a few seconds, still inside, breathing into my back as the last shudder worked through her body. I stayed motionless, waiting for the world to settle, feeling the semen start to seep around the still-hard cock.

She withdrew slowly. When she came out, I felt a thick trail of cum running down the inside of my thigh. She reached for a tissue from the glove drawer and cleaned herself as if she knew every movement by heart. Then she passed me another one without looking at me. I sat up with difficulty, my legs still shaking, and wiped myself between the legs while feeling the doctor watch me do it.

—The consultation is settled —she told me, her voice already back to professional—. Come back whenever you want. But pay.

I smiled while I got dressed.

—Thank you, Doctor. I feel much better.

***

On the ride back I didn’t listen to music. I just stared out the taxi window and mentally rearranged the version I was going to tell. Damián was a good man, the kind who listens, the kind who believes. And I knew him well enough to know what parts I could leave out and what parts I had to tell so his desire would ignite without guilt ruining it. In my panties, the doctor’s cum was still dampening the fabric.

I found him on the couch, phone in hand, with that worried face that made me want to kiss him and lie to him at the same time.

—Honey, are you okay? What did they tell you?

I sat on his lap, straddling him. I felt right away that he was more awake than he looked, his cock already pushing hard against the seam of his jeans. I ran my fingers along the nape of his neck and leaned into his ear.

—She told me I need to learn how to relax.

—And that’s it? That was all?

—Not exactly. She did some weird therapy. She laid me on the table, told me to close my eyes, and started giving me instructions to release the tension.

—What kind of instructions?

I laughed, bit his earlobe, and lowered my voice until you could barely hear me.

—She said things to me. Things she wouldn’t say to anyone else. And while she talked to me, she touched me… here. —I took his hand and placed it on my own waist, slowly, guiding it downward until I slid it inside my pants—. She told me to stop fighting, to give in. And I gave in, Damián. I gave in like a little girl.

I felt his fingers sink into my panties and find me soaked. Soaked with someone else’s come that he would never know he was touching. A low, animal growl escaped him.

—Fuck, Renata. You’re dripping. Did she really tell you that?

—It happened in my head. What’s the difference?

He laughed under his breath, with that laugh that comes out when he likes something and is uncomfortable with it at the same time. He pulled me against him, kissed my neck, and I let him as I told him the rest of the fantasy with exactly the right tone, exactly the right pauses, exactly the right sighs. I unbuttoned his jeans and took out his cock, and started stroking him slowly against my own belly while I kept talking in his ear. Every time I stopped, he squeezed me tighter. Every time I lowered my voice, his breathing got faster. I knew that game better than he did.

I told him the doctor had called me a good girl. I told him her hands were bigger than they looked. I told him I had closed my eyes and, for a moment, imagined it was him there with me. That last part was the only thing I said that was a lie.

When he took me to the bedroom, I still had the doctor’s fingerprints on my waist. Damián kissed each one, not knowing what he was kissing. He parted my legs and buried his face between my thighs, and I felt him licking at the taste he believed was all mine. He ate my cunt with hunger, his whole tongue flat against my clit, and I gripped his head and told him yes, like that, more, that he was the best. I told him with the cracked voice he knew and with the words he needed.

Then he climbed on top of me and drove into me with all the urgency of someone who thinks he owns a fantasy that isn’t his. He slammed into me all the way to the hilt and I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling how my cunt, still sore from the doctor, now opened for him. He fucked me hard, pinning my wrists to the pillow, and I screamed his name at exactly the right moment, with exactly the right intensity, with exactly the right tremble. He came inside me a few minutes later, with a muffled groan in my neck, and I held him and told him I loved him in his ear.

That night I slept like I hadn’t slept in weeks.

In the end, the doctor was right. I just needed to learn how to relax.