CHAPTER 6: The Email

I looked at the clock. It was the middle of the morning, and I was supposed to be working. I cleaned myself up and tried to work, but my mind kept drifting back to my assignment:

Reflect on what you learned today. Send an email to Dr. Popova telling her what I'd learned in therapy so far.

Honestly, what I'd learned is that the good Doctor had my family jewels on lockdown and she could basically do whatever she wanted to me. Oh, also, that I was an idiot who AGREED TO BE LOCKED BACK UP because I thought I'd get a handjob, when all I got was a ruined orgasm.

So I was horny and I was angry but I didn't think that was what Dr. Popova was trying to get me to learn. She'd kept asking me questions about my last hookups and telling me that I was a selfish lover. Was that what she wanted to hear? I mean, maybe I was kind of selfish, but that's sex right?

I was trying to push that out of my mind and get my work done, but I couldn't get into a rhythm. Couldn't find the flow. I'd do a little work, get stuck, then space out and walk around my tiny apartment.

Of course, it didn't help that my cock cage, my cock ring, and my anal "diagnostic" probe were still locked onto me, still pulsing away, still keeping my cock hard and keeping me aroused and denied. That was a big part of the problem. Oh and the pandemic lockdown. So yeah.

Finally, I decided I needed some help. I opened Slack and DM'd Kat.

"Hey Kat, I'm stuck on this new module I'm working on—want to pair?"

Pairing—pair programming—is a thing we do at work. It's basically two programmers sitting at one computer, working on code together. One person types, one person talks, and you switch off. I used to hate it because one of the things I love about programming is getting locked in, and I thought you couldn't do that if you were pairing. But with the right pair, I discovered that I liked it, especially when I was stuck. And I was stuck now, and Kat was a really good pair.

"Start in 10?" she replied.

So ten minutes later, I fired up my screen sharing and we launched a video window so we could pair remotely.

"Dude," she said. "You still look like shit."

Kat was smiling at me though—almost mocking me. And she, unlike me, looked great. Like freshly scrubbed and glowing. WTF, how did she do that in the middle of a pandemic lockdown? Kat always surprises me with her looks though. She has the face of a model, clear skin, high cheekbones, blue eyes, but she keeps her brown hair cropped short to her head, like a marine in boot camp. She told me she cut it once on a dare in college and after that, all the frat boys who used to harass her just totally left her alone, so she'd kept it that way ever since. She dresses to avoid attention too—jeans, Vans, geeky t-shirts. When we hooked up and she got undressed, I was shocked at her body—toned and long and sexy.

"I, uh, I'm having trouble sleeping," I told her. Which was true, if not the whole story.

"OK, so what's this thing you're stuck on?" she asked, and we got into it. At least, we tried to get into it, but I was antsy and I couldn't focus. I kept thinking about my cock, and about Dr. Popova's assignment.

After about ten minutes, Kat said, "Jonathan, maybe you should just take the fucking day off. You're totally spacing out on me, man!"

"Kat, was I a selfish lover?" I asked. Fuck, I hadn't meant to say anything, but I was so fucking out of it, I couldn't keep my internal thoughts internal. Shit.

"Whoa! What the fuck, dude?" she said.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Kat," I said. "I have a lot on my mind and it's really getting to me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Seriously dude?" She looked at me for a second then said, "Fuck it. OK, since you asked JB, yeah, you were selfish as fuck. That's why I stopped hooking up with you. Didn't you get that?"

"Look, I'm sorry I asked," I mumbled. "I'm, um, I'm doing some, I guess you'd call it therapy now, and we started talking about that and my doctor told me to reflect on that."

"OK, look, let's get off this work channel. I'll call you back in a sec."

We disconnected from our work system, and while we were reconnecting to a private connection, I cursed myself. Why couldn't I keep my shit to myself?

A minute later, we were reconnected, and Kat said, "JB, has any woman ever given you any feedback on your bedroom performance?"

I shook my head.

"God, it's always the same with you hot boys," she said. She thought I was hot? "You get girls so easily, you don't make any effort. You think you're so fucking great, and you're good looking so it all comes easily to you, then you're like pump pump cum dump and you fall the fuck asleep. After the first time with you... I can't believe I went back for seconds. But then you did it again, and I was through with you, JB."

I didn't know what to say. I guess I knew that she was right, and maybe in another mood I would have tried to argue, but now, I could barely form a thought.

"JB, are you OK?" she asked me. She seemed actually concerned.

I just felt bad. "I'm sorry Kat. I wish I could make it up to you."

I saw her smile a little. "Well, I can think of something..." she said.

I had a bad feeling about this. "What are you thinking about?"

"You want to stop being a selfish lover, JB, then do something for me."

"Um, OK, what?" I said.

She seemed to think about it for a bit, then her smile got bigger. "I want a show, JB." She said. "I'm locked in here all by myself, and I'm horny. I want you to give me a show while I get off."

I thought about this for like a nano-second and then remembered what was going on inside my sweatpants. Dr. Popopva's torture machines were what was going on, and there was no way I was going to show that shit to Kat.

"Kat, you don't understand," I said, "I'd actually love to do that—I mean it would be embarrassing but whatever. No, the thing is, that I actually can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't tell you, Kat. You just have to trust me."

"Get the fuck out of here, JB!" she said, and she sounded pissed. "You brought the whole thing up. You're all worried about being selfish and I decide to give you another chance—a chance you don't fucking deserve to be clear—and literally the first fucking thing I ask you, you say no and you won't even tell me why?"

"It's just..." I thought about my options here. The whole time we'd been talking, the cage had been pulsing on my cock. The cuff had been squeezing and releasing my balls. My asshole was stuffed full with the pulsing probe. My cock had been hard for a week. Could I trust Kat with my problem?

"Oh. My. God!" she said, interrupting my thoughts. "I know what your problem is! You're a fucking masturbater, aren't you? You've spanked it so much that you're scared you won't be able to get it up for me! That's your problem, isn't it, JB?"

"No, it's..."

She wasn't having it though. "Well listen, you save it up, ok?" So condescending. "And when you're ready to give me a show, you call me back. Until then, nothing. No chatting, no working, no pairing. You're on your own, mister."

She hung up on me then. It was getting to be a familiar feeling.

I cursed my stupidity, but I didn't get much of a chance to wallow in self pity. The next thing I knew, the devices in my lap sprung back to life. They began a rhythm that I recognized—and it was not the pleasurable teasing I'd felt a moment before. Oh fuck, it was the pressure routine! The devices were getting tighter. The cage constricting. The cuff on my balls squeezing. The probe in my ass growing. I started to panic. This had happened before when I was talking to Dr. P, but had never happened when I was by myself. Oh god, it was starting to hurt. I started to panic—how had I stopped this last time?

In a flash, I realized that this was what Dr. Popova did when I refused an order—turning the devices to constriction. Were the devices now punishing me for denying Kat?

Fuck, I needed to reach Dr. Popova, or maybe Dr. P wanted me to call back Kat? What the fuck was I supposed to do? I opened the Telemedicine app to contact Dr. Popova, and when I did, the constriction loosened a bit, then resumed. I tapped, "Send a message to your doctor..." and instantly, the devices relaxed a bit more.

Fuck. That was it. It had been a signal to get in touch with Dr. P!

My plan had been to finish my work day and then write the email that Dr. P had asked for, but at this point, it seemed like I had no choice. I was going to have to write the email now. I guess in the end, what difference did it make when I wrote it? What difference was there between day and night? What even was the point of working? I couldn't leave the house. I couldn't get these machines to stop playing with me. I might as well get to it.

I tapped into the email form in the app and started to write:

Hello Dr. Popova,

You asked me to write you an email about what I've learned. So here's the email.

I talked to Kat today. I work with her and we've hooked up a couple of times. We started talking today for work, but I realized while we were talking that she's someone that I actually like, and I miss seeing her. But with the lockdown—and even before that, I've kind of been, I guess, a douchebag towards her.

We were never boyfriend/girlfriend or anything like that. She's tough and smart and that scared me at first, but we got to be friends. We hooked up a few times and I was into that, but she didn't seem that into it, and then she cut it off after a bit.

Today I asked her about it—the hook-ups—and I realized it was the first time we'd talked about it. I guess that doesn't make me look so good, huh? Anyway, she told me the same thing you did—that I was a selfish lover and that I didn't care about her pleasure. As soon as she said it, I wanted to prove that she was wrong, but I realized I couldn't. Then she said that she wanted to cyber—wanted me to take my pants off and show her my cock so she could get off. But of course, I couldn't do that without revealing my situation, so I told her no, but didn't tell her why. She got mad and told me that until I was ready to show it, she was cutting me off. I don't blame her, but now I really feel like shit.

OK, you asked me what I've learned. Here's one thing: you and Kat were right. I'm selfish. But I also learned that I'm completely at the mercy of you and your devices. Please tell me what to do.



I pressed send, and the devices sprung to life again, this time in a good way. Stroking me, squeezing me, filling my ass. Taking me from aroused to rock-hard. I closed my eyes, let my head fall back, let myself relax into the pleasure, even though I knew it was going nowhere, that the machines would never get me over the hump, that I was just going to be teased for as long as Dr. P and her algorithms wanted to tease me.

A moment later, my phone chimed. It was an alert from the Telemedicine app. Dr. Popova would contact me tonight. At 6pm. Hours and hours from now. I groaned, fell back on the couch. The cage on my cock was relentlessly stroking me, holding me at the edge of orgasm. I wasn't sure I'd make it. I closed my eyes again, laid my back, and surrendered to the machines.

Pub: Jan 30 2021 03:57 UTC
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