CHAPTER 5: Release
Try to get some rest. That's what she'd said. But the automated treatment that she had engaged seemed to have other ideas. The cage that held my hard-on was like a fist around my cock, squeezing and pulsing. The plug in my ass massaged my prostate. The cuff around the base of my cock held me firmly. The unholy trinity worked on me for hours until I thought I would go crazy. When dawn broke the next day, I got out of bed and made coffee and resolved to get some work done. I was badly behind on my portion of a project and my team-mates were starting to notice.
As 9:30 approached, my team chat channel started to come alive, and at 9:30 promptly, we started our daily morning check-in meeting. It was only a 15 minute meeting, but it had become the 15 minutes I dreaded the most. Our team had agreed that we all needed to have cameras on for this call, so it was the one time of the day that I absolutely, positively needed to keep my shit together. And my predicament was making it very difficult to keep my shit together.
It had been hard when the diagnostics were running—that low level pulsing made me distracted—but today now that the treatment had started, I was really worried because the stimulation was so much stronger—and so unpredictable. One moment I felt like I was being fucked by the universe, the next moment, it was like I was being caressed by a feather.
When today's meeting started though, something unexpected happened. The devices went quiet. They held me firmly, but stopped moving completely. And I was grateful, because I was able to get through the meeting without making a fool of myself. But I could see myself in the video conference. I looked bad. I had dark circles under my eyes. My skin was grey. My hair was a mess.
After the meeting, my team-mate Kat sent me a private message. "You OK dude? You keepin it together? You look bad."
Kat is my friend-hookup-co-worker-whatever. We've been through a couple of phases, and I can never really figure out where I stand. Phase One started when we first met, about a year ago. Back then, we argued all the time—which was mostly my fault. My default is to act like the best developer on every team. Also, I like to argue. What that means is that I give people a lot of shit, and I know that I cross the line sometimes.
Kat is a badass though, and doesn't take shit from anyone, especially not conceited boy developers that she can code circles around. So she argued back, and after a while, we'd just argue for the fun of it. At some point, I realized that she was probably smarter than me and a better developer and I started to shut the fuck up.
That led to Phase Two, when we'd all go out drinking with the team. A couple of times in that period, she and I ended up hooking up. But Phase Two didn't last long. I'm not sure what happened—we still go out drinking with the team, but it seemed like she wasn't so into the whole friends-with-benefits thing, so we kind of put that part on hold.
We're in Phase Three now—just friends who talk and like to argue. Still, what was I going to tell her about this?
"I'm OK. Just having a lot of trouble sleeping through all of this."
"Well, you look like shit, man, so hit me up if you want to talk."
As much I like talking to Kat—and as much as I could have really used Kat's badass point of view at that moment, I just didn't see myself calling her up and telling her that I was being blackmailed by a sexy Russian doctor who had my balls on lockdown.
At that moment, I got a notification on my phone from Dr. Popova. "It's time to talk to your doctor! Please open Telemedecine Partners to continue."
I messaged Kat, "Call you later. I gotta go cuz my dr. is calling." I pressed send, and instantly regretted it.
"Doctor?!?" she messaged back.
Whatever. I opened the app, and was glad to see Dr. Popova's face.
"Jonathan, how are you feeling today?" She asked me.
"Honestly Doctor, I'm worn out. I need a break. I need to cum. I need to sleep."
"Oh, you poor dear," she said. She did a pretty good job of sounding sympathetic, but I suspected that she was just laying it on thick for me. "Jonathan, today we're going to remove your treatment devices so that we can clean them. We're going to inspect your penis and your testicles as well to ensure that you're healthy."
FINALLY! I would be able to get out of these damn devices. At this point, I was pretty sure I wouldn't care if my information was spread all over the internet—fuck if they put it on the video screens in Times Square I would have traded that for freedom. But I had to play it cool at this moment.
"Now Jonathan," she continued, "Patients like you who are just beginning treatment are often very eager to take the devices off. Some even go so far as to refuse to put the devices back on. Can you imagine that, Jonathan?"
I sure fucking could. I said nothing.
"Jonathan, I can see from your data stream that you are agitated. Perhaps you are even feeling angry and do not want to tell me what you're really feeling. That's OK Jonathan. I'm going to show you something now that may change your mind. But if you do not want to cooperate with the treatment plan, ultimately that will be your decision."
With that, she stood. She took off her lab coat and moved away so I could see that she was wearing her trademark tight black turtleneck. I could also see black leggings, tight, hugging the curves of her ass. She ran her hands briefly over her ass, then bent away from the camera, reaching for something, giving me a perfect view of her ass. It seemed to me like she held that position just a bit too long, like she was taunting me.
When she returned to her seat, she was wearing a pair of black gloves with wires trailing out of them. She held her hands up in the air. "Now watch, Jonathan."
She slowly closed her right hand into a loose fist, and I felt the cage squeeze my cock. She moved her right hand back and forth and I felt the cage move back and forth as well. She was—fuck she was giving me a remote hand job!
"Jonathan, this technology is so exciting!" she said. "With these manual controllers, I can apply stimulation to your genitals directly." She lifted her left hand into the picture and made a fist. I felt the plug in my ass change shape, getting wider, filling me. She started moving her left hand too, and the plug started—holy fuck the plug started fucking my ass!
I groaned and closed my eyes, feeling her remote hands working me over, bringing me closer to release. Then she stopped. Completely.
"Jonathan, do you want to achieve release today?" she asked.
What kind of a fucking question was that? There was nothing I wanted more than to 'achieve release.'
"Doctor Popova, please! I want you to release me!" Did I really say that? I sounded like an idiot. I didn't care. I just needed her to make me cum.
"Alright Jonathan, then here's what we'll do. I'm going to unlock the devices. We'll take them off together. If we can complete our procedures to my satisfaction, then you'll get your release."
I heard the cuff click and saw the hinge pop open. The cage connection popped open too. I was confused by what she had said, but I was so excited to be unlocked that I lost track of the conversation.
"Jonathan, remove the cage first. Stand up and move so that I can see you do it."
I did. Following her instructions, I removed the cage, then the cuff, then the anal probe. She had me carry them all to the bathroom and told me to bring my phone. "You will wash the devices, and you will wash yourself, and when that's complete, we will begin your inspection."
It felt incredible to be liberated, but it also felt strange. Like I was missing something that had become part of my daily life.
"How are you feeling, Jonathan?" she asked me.
"Honestly Doctor, it's confusing," I said.
"Tell me more, Jonathan."
"Well, for the last week, all I've wanted it to get these fucking things off of me, but now that they're off, I feel kind of... weird?"
"That's good, Jonathan," she said, soothingly. "And tell me what you want."
"Doc, I just want to cum."
"Oh, very good, Jonathan," she said.
"Jonathan," she said, "you're going to wash yourself now. We're going to use warm water and lots of soap. It's going to feel amazing, but you're going to have to be careful because it's important that you don't ejaculate yet."
Yet?!? She said yet! I can't tell you how thrilling that one little word was. She was going to let me ejactulate—just not yet!
"I'll be careful, Dr. Popova, I promised."
I washed. Soap, hot water, washcloth. It did feel amazing. I scrubbed and I rubbed and I didn't jerk off. There was of course the little matter of Dr. Popova's blackmail. I know I said that I didn't care, but if there was a chance of cumming without incurring her wrath, all the better.
"Now," she said, "show me your penis."
I held it, and following her direction, moved my phone around. She wanted to see my cock, my balls, my asshole. I remembered our first conversation—it was only a week ago, but it felt like another lifetime. She'd demanded to see my asshole then, and I'd refused. Now I had my cheeks spread and my camera phone showing her a closeup. I heard her say, "Very good," and "delightful" and "look at your little pink asshole!"
And it felt good.
When I was done, inspected, cleaned, and dried, she said, "OK, Jonathan, we're going to but your devices back in place, starting with the cuff."
"But Doctor!" I started to protest.
She cut me off. "Jonathan, if you want me to give you that release, you need to be wearing your devices. I need them in place so that I can use my gloves."
I remembered the feeling of her remote hand-job, and weighed that against the prospect of another stint on lockdown. I also didn't want to make her angry. On the one hand, freedom, blackmail, humiliation. On the other hand, lockdown, remote hand job, badly needed orgasm. The hand-job won, so I reached for the cuff and clipped it into place.
"Now the probe Jonathan. Lube it well, and then I want you to bend over and show me how you put it in place."
I didn't object this time, I just did what she said. I'd gotten very good at getting the plug in and out. Since I had permission to remove it for 15 minutes every hour, I took advantage of that privilege on a regular basis. And sometimes, I took my time working it back in place, making the process last as long as I could, fucking myself with the plug until my 15 minute break was over. I couldn't cum, but I could—and did—enjoy these edging sessions I gave myself.
Now though, I thought I'd show her how easily I could put it into place. I lubed it up, bent over, and popped it right in—all the way home in one motion.
"Oh no Jonathan!" she said. "So selfish! I didn't have any time to enjoy that. No, take it out and let's do that again. But this time, you're going to do it slowly, Jonathan. You're going to do it like the first time you showed me, Jonathan. Do you understand?"
Fuck. What the hell? I pulled the plug out and started slowly pressing it in and out at the entrance to my back door.
"Oh, yes, Jonathan, that's nice. I like that very much." I couldn't see her, bent over the way I was, but I could hear the sound of her voice—it sounded low and full of pleasure, which surprised me. "I'm going to tell you something important now, Jonathan, so listen carefully. Keep fucking yourself slowly and listen carefully to the sound of my voice. Can you do that?"
"I can, Doctor," I said.
"Good. I want you to hear the pleasure in my voice now Jonathan, because I'm touching myself while I watch you fuck your little pink asshole."
Fuck! What was she doing? I desperately wanted to turn around and look.
"Jonathan, part of your therapy is going to be learning to defer your pleasure, to subordinate it to the pleasure of others. To stop being selfish. That's why you're doing what you're doing now, Jonathan. You are fucking yourself for my pleasure, not for yours."
Oh god. My cock, not yet trapped in its cage, surged. It bounced up and down as I fucked my own ass. I was close to losing it entirely. I desperately wanted to grab my cock and finish myself, but I didn't. I was scared. And I wanted to please her.
"When you masturbate to pornography, Jonathan, you think only of yourself. You think only of the feeling of your hand on your cock. Is that what you're thinking about now, Jonathan? Are you thinking about your pleasure?"
"Yes it is, Doctor."
"Yes, you are a selfish, selfish lover," she said. "But now, Oh! I'm the one whose pleasure matters. In fact Jonathan, if I let you turn around, do you know what you'd see?"
"Oh god, Doctor. What would I see?"
"You'd see me with my legs spread and my pants off. You'd see my pussy, Jonathan, with my hands all over it. I'm touching myself while I watch you fuck your little pink asshole Jonathan. I'm going to make myself cum here Jonathan, while I watch your balls swing and your asshole get fucked for me. That's what you'd see. Do you want to see that, Jonathan?"
"Oh my god, Doctor," gasped. I wanted to see her pussy, see her working it, see her cum. "I do want that Doctor."
"Of course you do, silly boy," she said. "But you can't. You won't. Just keep fucking yourself for me. And listen... oh god...listen... fuck... listen to me CUM, Jonathan!"
I heard her groan. I heard her gasp. I kept performing for her. I found myself swaying my hips as I fucked myself for her. It was fucking humiliating, but it was so very hot.
I heard her catching her breath, and I stayed bent over for her, though my hand came to a rest. I couldn't take any more stimulation. At this point, it wouldn't have taken more than a single touch to make me blow the biggest load of my life.
Finally though, she said, "Thank you Jonathan. That was lovely, and I'm grateful to you for putting my needs first. You may stand and turn around now."
I did, wondering what I'd see. But all I saw was my fiendish doctor, sitting at her desk, lab coat off, dressed in her black turtleneck. Her face was flushed. Her nipples hard. A small strand of hair had come loose and fallen over her forehead. She was fixing it as I turned.
"Now, Jonathan, time to get you into your cage so we can work on your release."
I felt completely destroyed. She hadn't let me see her. She'd cum, and now she was making me choose to be locked again, ironically so that I could finally get off. Release, indeed. Also, I just stared at my cock and the cage she wanted me to put on it. I couldn't figure out how in the world I was ever going to fit my rock hard cock into that fucking cage.
"I see that your penis is erect, Jonathan," she said, resuming her professional demeanor.
Honestly, I was hornier than I'd ever been. My cock felt like it was a steel rod.
"So," she said, "let's focus on getting you soft enough to get back into the cage." She paused, then said, "Jonathan." Her voice had turned cold. "I want you to think about your last lover or hookup or girlfriend."
There weren't that many of them recently, so my choices were few. I thought about Kat.
"OK doctor," I said, "What do you want to know?"
"It's not what I want to know, Jonathan," she said. "It's what you need to know."
I was confused.
"Think about the sex, Jonathan. Was it good? Was it good for you? Do you think it was good for them?"
I could feel myself starting to soften. My sex life kinda sucked, honestly. My dates, if you want to call them that, were all pretty mediocre, honestly. And sex with Kat had been, I don't know, whatever, I guess.
"Um," I said, "I guess it's OK?" I didn't sound very convincing, even to myself.
At that moment, I saw her lean over to the control unit on the side of her desk, heard a beep, and felt the cock ring start to constrict. Hard. I gasped.
"Jonathan," she said, her Russian accent taking over, "I don't believe that and neither do you. Do not lie to me."
Fuck, the ring was getting tighter and tighter, making me gasp in pain. My cock was starting to wither.
"Ow! Doctor, please! It hurts!" I cried. I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic.
"Tell me the truth, Jonathan," she said, ice in her voice.
"Ok, fuck, ow! Doctor, the sex wasn't good. I'm a selfish lover. I just get off and I roll over and go to sleep."
"Very good, Jonathan," she said. The ring didn't relent though, and the pain brought me to my knees. "Your penis should be soft now, Jonathan. Please put the cage back on, then I'll release the cuff."
I did. I fumbled with the cage, my effort made difficult by the intense ball-crushing pain. I worked the cage into place over my cock until the magnets in the base of the cage and the magnets in the cuff clicked home. A moment later, the cuff released its evil grip, and I felt relief wash over me.
"Stand up, Jonathan," Dr. Popova said. "You've done very well. It's time for your release."
Oh, god, I thought, struggling to my feet. Finally! It had been a week of stimulation, pain, frustration, sleep deprivation. I could still feel the pain where the cuff had applied its death grip, but I watched in excitement as Dr. Popova pulled on her tele-therapy gloves. She held them up so I could see them, and she smiled at me. My cock started growing again in the cage, painfully starting to press against its limits.
And then she started moving her hands.
Oh god it felt good. She curled the fingers of her right and I felt the cock cage grip me. She started moving slowly back and forth and the cage somehow, magically, started stroking me. With her left hand, she extended her index finger, and I felt the anal probe change shape and press against my prostate. She started making come-hither motions with that index finger and—oh fuck, I just groaned, "Doctor, oh God!"
"Shh," she said, "slowly, Jonathan." She slowed her movements. "Don't you want to enjoy this?"
"Oh god, Doctor," I said. "You feel so good! I don't think I can hold it!!"
I felt my orgasm starting to come on in a rush. There was no way I would be able to hold it back. My ass was clenching on the plug. My balls starting to spasm. I felt a warm wave of pleasure in the base of my neck begin to rush to my cock. Her hands were working magic on me through the internet, pushing me to the point of no return.
I called out, "Oh god Doctor! I'm gonna cum!"
At that moment, I heard an intense beeping coming from her desk—her control unit sounding an alarm. I saw her open her hands and felt the devices go slack, felt the plug deflate. There was no stimulation. Nothing. Just my cock pulsing in the cage, trying to get stimulation. I shoved my hips forward and back, trying to get some friction, but found none. I watched in horror as my cum just started to dribble out of the end of my dick. It gushed, but I felt no pleasure, no release. It dribbled and ran, and I watched and waited for the pleasure and relief but it never came. She had ruined my orgasm. Ruined it completely.
I was panting, rock hard, covered in cum, and yet, hornier than ever.
"Jonathan," she said quietly. "Go take a shower now and wash the cum off your cage. Then get dressed and begin your workday."
"Oh god, Doctor," I panted, "Are you kidding me? We're done?" I'd never experienced anything like what just happened. I'd cum, I think. Or had I? Normally, I'd feel pleasure. Satisfaction. Release. I'd go soft. I'd feel sleepy. But this—I was rock hard and ready to fuck. I was energized and I was horny and I was frustrated.
"Jonathan," she said. "Please watch your tone with me."
"I'm sorry Doctor," I said. Once again, I remembered that she held all the cards.
"Jonathan, I'm going to give you an assignment. I want you to reflect on what you learned today. In fact, I want you to send me an email telling me what you've learned in therapy so far. I will read it and then I will make some decisions about how to proceed with your treatment. After that, I will contact you to arrange for our next session."