Author’s Note

This is the 5K+ words second chapter of the novella of the same name. A libertine businessman is pursuing treatment for sexual performance issues with a seductive female physician. A woman that, unknowingly to him, is an experienced lifestyle Domme whose family he has wronged. She decides to exploit her position of power and trust to exact revenge on him. In this chapter the Domme physician takes her manipulations from the clinic to a hotel room for the first time. Continuing to take benefit of her absolute mastery of both men’s sexual anatomy and sexual responses on her target. Like in the previous chapter, intense orgasm control, from edging to ruining, feature prominently. And so does the latent menace–the means, motive and opportunity–but not the realization of CBT. Some passages of intensely misogynistic thinking on the part of the businessman also feature prominently. If any of these themes are offensive to you, please do not read. If none are, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2

It did not take long after Oliver Jones left Riley Nowak’s clinic that he felt intensely conflicted about the experience. On the one hand he was satisfied his equipment had functioned flawlessly while in the presence of the sexy blonde doctor. On the other he needed it to perform flawlessly always. Not just when there was a woman like Dr Nowak messing with his manhood. And his head. Which he had the feeling she was doing. What was all that about trying to convince him he was some sort of slave-to-women wimp? He? The irresistible Oliver Jones? Never! Or that he could have his strings pulled like a marionette by a pair of pretty feet in heels? Or by being studied like a specimen while standing naked in front of an attractive woman? Ultimately, he had virile free will, and all his sexual reactions were his to control!

Regardless, he was persuaded enough by the doctor’s expertise he did follow her post consult instructions. Two days later he was visiting the imaging lab for a full pelvic magnetic resonance imaging scan. A procedure that had him lying inside a very loud, claustrophobia inducing electronic tunnel that basically captured a detailed 3D model of all his sexual organs. And the wondered that Dr Nowak would gain nanometric knowledge of the tissues that made him a man gave him nervous shivers. Shivers that nevertheless had him becoming fully erect and lubricated. Again, Dr Nowak, that is, the white collar high class hooker, messing with his head. And she was not even in front of him!

He was a little more conflicted about the abstinence instruction. Seriously? What was she trying? To make him sexually needy, vulnerable? Oliver was not sure. So reluctantly, just to be safe and just temporally, he told himself, he decided to comply. But only because he convinced himself he would make Riley Nowak pay. His interests in solving his sexual performance issues apart, he made up his mind the blonde hooker doctor would not be one of the few hot women in his life that got away without taking his seed. She would be part of the majority that took it. Whatever it took.

Indeed, among Dr Nowak’s peer class of white-collar high class hookers almost none had ever got away. Any attractive female corporate banker or attorney that wanted to do company with him had to pay the price. And, guess what, they mostly did. His own top financial manager, the CFO of Jones Engineering and Construction, an attractive wife and mother of two that was 40 years old, spread her legs for him every company trip. Oliver even suspected her second child was actually his. Not that it mattered when her cuckold husband did all the diaper changing involved. Only one white-collar hooker of note had got away. And Oliver was determined Riley Nowak was not gonna join her.

That other one was one he had come across not during his course of doing company. Nor at a party or a bar. But in the course of performing his duty as a citizen. When he had been summoned to serve in a criminal jury trial. And surprisingly, he had made it through jury selection once the prosecutor, an assistant district attorney and the white-collar hooker in question, ran out of juries she could object to. Ironically, she was stuck with him as a juror, even though it was one of those date rape and sexual assault cases, and he had a guttural adverse reaction to trials on those spurious charges. Especially on “she says, he says” cases like the one he was serving. Why even put a guy through that in the first place? Is what Oliver Jones wondered about it from the very beginning.

In any case, concerning the white-collar hooker, “Madam State” was her courtroom title, Oliver wondered it ironic she was trying to hang some poor guy from the gallows for misreading some woman’s signals. When the woman drunk herself silly and dressed like a slut. While Madam State herself, a tight assed pretty brunette of about 30, dressed in some of the tightest skirt suits and highest pumps Oliver had ever seen anywhere, let alone a courtroom. Oliver hardly heard anything she said that trial, and just kept thinking, that with apologies to the judge, he wanted to bend the prosecutor over her courtroom desk and give her what a man like him could give her. He never did though. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what sort of legal shit he could get himself into if he did. So the hot brunette in tight skirt suits and high heeled pumps got away. Now, Oliver was determined Riley Nowak was not gonna join her in doing so.

And while Oliver Jones had those thoughts, Riley Nowak spent twice as much time as she usually did going over the results of her patient’s 3D MRI scan. She went over each cubic millimeter of his sexual organs, loaded up in an ultra-sleek piece of software that allowed zooms, rotations, reflections and just about any geometric transformation that she wished. Everything from his bulbourethral gland, sandwiched between his prostate and his perineum, which is responsible for the precum. To his epididymis, a tightly coiled tube at the back of the testes, where sperm matures and fully acquires its motility. She looked at absolutely everything. And by the time she was done, she knew Oliver Jones’s equipment better than the back of her hand.

Her most significant observation was that indeed Oliver Jones had anomalous attachment of the testes. Not quite enough to qualify for a full case of Clapper Bell Deformity, which is what fully detached testes were called. But maybe a partial case, which was unusual. Not enough to merit preventive surgery. But yet enough to risk a dreaded testicular torsion with an unlucky spin of his testes. Since even a twirling index and thumb could probably do it, it was probably a good thing for Oliver Jones that most of the women that handled his manhood did not know what they were doing. Other than Riley herself of course. Who was his physician and had his health at heart.

On the other hand Oliver Jones seemed perfectly ordinary and healthy on anything to do with erectile ability, which was largely a circulatory problem. The corpora cavernosa, and all his blood vessels, seemed ordinary and unobstructed. The same with all the numerous channels along which his semen, and its precursors, travelled. So there really seemed to be no physiological reason for either erectile disfunction or premature ejaculation. Which of course Riley had already proved in his last visit. Merely some psychosexual conflicts that she would personally be very happy to help him resolve.

The results of Oliver’s Jones sperm quantity and quality analyses was another matter. In what could be perceived as a turn of divine justice, he had about 80% of the usual sperm concentration of an average man. And more significantly, about half of his sperm seemed to be mechanically deficient in some way. Of reduced motility. Which all meant Riley’s patient, the womanizing life-ruining prick, was a lot less fertile than the average man. Probably meant he had a lot fewer illegitimate children than a man of his lifestyle would normally have. Nevertheless, he was likely fertile enough he probably did have a few. And Riley wondered, given his obvious lack of interest in marriage and responsible parenthood, he would probably be better off with a vasectomy. Objectively speaking as his physician. It was so simple an outpatient office procedure she could do one with as little as a scalpel, a surgical needle and some surgical thread. With that, she could probably do one in a redeye flight. Or even easier, a hotel room. It was even surgically reversible most of the times. Unless it was botched somehow. And if it went smoothy, the only side effect was no more than a week of scrotal soreness . And Oliver Jones could handle a week of blue balls, Riley wondered. Though a man that had his vas-deferens sniped was sometimes still fertile for up to a year. Somebody like Oliver Jones likely for much shorter. Till all the sperm already in transit beyond the snip got used up.

In any case, even before he came back for his next appointment, Riley knew more about Jones’s sexual anatomy and function than probably anybody should ever know about anybody else. Other than for an andrologist like herself.

*****

Oliver headed to his second appointment with Riley Nowak having felt belittled and violated but somehow intensely aroused at the first appointment. After spending a week in abstinence at the orders of the doctor. And after having surrendered total knowledge of his manhood to the sexy blonde hooker doctor. So he did so with understandable trepidation. Which he hated, because he was not a man who felt trepidation over his sexuality or sexual experiences. But it was all manageable because together with the trepidation, he had found the resolve to make Dr Nowak his conquest, one way or another. And maybe this very day he would make it happen.

Indeed, as he walked into her office again, and checked her out again, Oliver remembered why Riley Nowak was absolutely a woman he needed to conquer. Seductive, elegant, and all around exquisite. With her honey blonde hair and sea green eyes. Her subtly exotic facial features, like those of an Eastern European supermodel. Or princess. Or high class hooker. Could go either of those three methods. Her lithe pert body, from her breasts, through her hips and pelvis, to her legs. The way she wore her white-collar garbs. Apparently at all times straddling the boundary of professional and whorish. Today in fact she still had a tight black pencil skirt and high heeled black pumps. Though her fitted button down shirt was a dark grey rather than pale blue. Making her look a little more dangerous. Femme fatale-ish. In her dark, nearly all black, ensemble. She looked good, Oliver wondered. And most of all, her confidence, her assertiveness, her poise. That truly set her aside from other women. And made her a prize worth claiming.

“Good morning Dr Nowak.”

Said Oliver as he extended his hand to her. Making sure to use his most masculine, dominant voice.

“Good morning Oliver. Please seat down”

Replied Riley, without breaking eye contact for even a second.

“I’ve studied the results of your MRI scan, so I know you attended that. Did you also abstain from any sexual activity as I asked last week?”

Asked Riley

“Yes.”

Spat out Oliver, resentful but truthful. “Other than plotting how to get in your pants you blonde medical whore”, he added to himself in his mind.

“Good then. Get up and stand by the examination bed. Take your clothes off so I can perform a short partial physical again. And we can discuss some results at the same time.”

Commanded Riley, this time not even batting an eyelid over intermingling physical and interview. Just so she could fuck with both Oliver Jones’s mind and manhood to maximum effect.

Oliver was catching on to the strategy. So he winced. But he told himself, now that he was in the know, it didn’t matter. The blonde hooker would not be able to manipulate him. And taking his pants off for her only meant there was less in the way to consummate his objective.

“Sure thing. Doctor.”

He replied with as much innuendo he could muster.

Getting cocky are we? Wondered Riley.

In any case, Oliver was soon stark naked in front of the doctor by her examination bed. This time with not so much as his socks on him. Standing proud in all his athletic glory. 6’2″,200lbs of lean muscle. Head held high. Torso held straight. Abdominal, pectoral and arm muscles ever so subtly flexed. Like a proud male peacock. Look at what you are about to get, you fancy stuck-up whore! Is what the pose said.

Riley, merely smiled. Put on her lab coat, which once again entirely hid her above-the-knee skirt. And snapped her blue examination gloves dramatically to her wrists. Which made Oliver wince. And shrink back down a bit. Good! She thought. Then she strutted sultrily to him. Like a catwalk model. Swaying her hips. Putting one foot in front of the other in long strides. Watching his manhood stand to full attention and glisten as she did. And when she got to her patient, as he was too distracted looking at her eyes, trying to win an impromptu staring contest they had started, she reached for his scrotum with her right hand. Which made him go.

“Uuuuuggghhhhh…”

And capitulate the stare down.

“So Oliver. I’ve got some results and some recommendations for you.”

She said as she began to examine, and toy, with his testes. Feeling again the extent of his scrotal abnormality, now that the she had also seen it. But also teasing him sexually and taunting him socially, just to fuck with him.

“One result, that I know is not the reason you came to me, is that your sperm count is low. Your sperm quality even lower. So even though you are not completely infertile, you are likely only semi fertile.”

She said as she toyed with her patient’s testes. Dragging it way beyond what she needed to ascertain what she wanted to. She would keep this whole conversation going with his balls in her hands if she could manage it, she decided.

“Oaaahhh…”

Her patient went. Unable to keep quiet whenever she touched him. In fact, Oliver was thinking he had found a professional name for the fancy stuck-up blonde hooker. World oldest profession, professional name that is. “Dr Riley, Million Dollar Handjob, Nowak”. Because, fuck, was she good with her hands!

And yet when his brain registered that she had said he was not fully fertile he also thought. The bitch! Not fully fertile my ass! First she tries to tell me penis is small. Now she tries to tell me my little guys don’t cut it! She thinks I am going to buy all this messaging I am less than a man! But truth is he was beginning to buy it. And moreover, unfortunately for Oliver, Riley was not lying, or even exaggerating, about either thing.

“Doctor.. ugghhhhh… I am not sure what to say… oaaahhh…”

“True. Based on our conversation I take it neither marriage nor fatherhood are things that interest you much. So it would seem sperm quantity and quality problems should not affect you. On the other hand. Have you considered going the other way? In order to avoid unplanned fatherhood, no matter how unlikely, getting a vasectomy? It would not affect your sexual function at all. Only make you fully infertile. It only has minimal temporary side effects. And with the ways used these days it is completely surgically reversible should you ever change your mind about it.”

Riley told her patient, while she handled his testes with a little too much tease. So as to make her words as persuasive as possible.

“Grrr…rrr….rrr… Not sure about that Doctor.”

Managed to spit out Oliver.

“Ok. Just let me know if you ever think about it.”

Replied casually Riley.

“The good news is that concerning your erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation, I believe there are no underlying physiological causes. Indeed, look at you right now. Fully erect. Well lubricated but unejaculated.”

Because I am pulling your strings like a marionette! Thought, but did not add, Riley.

“On the other hand. That leaves the psychological causes. Have you wondered about the two questions we left unanswered last time? This is 2023 and we live in the age of open minded sex positive thinking. I am an andrologist, not a sex therapist, but my advice to you is that you do not need to conform to a narrow, antiquated idea of masculinity to enjoy your sex life. If you do not repress yourself, I believe your sexual performance issues will go away.”

Said Riley as she gave a sudden firm grasp and tug of Oliver’s scrotum. For emphasis. Which only made his manhood stretch even tauter. Lubricate even slicker.

And Oliver, hanging onto the bed behind him for physical and moral support, thought. The bitch! There she is again. Trying to get in my head. Can we have this conversation when my balls are not in your hands?! I know that your are fucking with me. And yet, it is all persuasive like a siren song. I can’t resist your ideas when you fondle me like that!

So deciding this was about as good a time as any to reassert himself. To reestablish his virility and dominance. He let go of the examination bed behind him. And swung both arms around the body of Riley Nowak. Letting his left hand grab onto the sexy svelte blonde by her right upper buttocks. And his right by the nape of her neck. Pulling her petite body closer towards him. Even as she still held onto his scrotum with her surgically gloved, right hand.

The cheek! Thought Riley, but she did not so much as flinch at Oliver’s nerve. Instead she held her ground. Though she did stop toying with his manhood, while still holding onto it as securely as ever. She suspected Oliver might try something like this sooner or later. See if she melted in his arms and hands. Like most women probably did. It did not work with her thought. And it occurred to her, his move could be construed as sexual assault. Giving her legal cover to do to him whatever she wanted to do to him next.

Indeed, lazily, Riley recalled some interesting facts about human testes. Their rupture point was about 50lbs of force. Their pain point much, much lower, 5lbs or even less. An average woman had a 10 to 15lbs pinch strength between index and thumb. And a 40 to 50lbs grip strength with a full hand. Hence why an average woman could hang onto to a set of monkey bars with two hands for at least a few instants. And once a man was temporarily down, a woman like her could always bring all 120lbs of her weight to bear, if necessary. But in the case of a man like Oliver Jones, and a skilled andrologist like herself, all that was redundant and unnecessary. A couple of pounds of force converted to torque could spin one of his testes like a top and achieve the same result.

In any case, she had no interest in incapacitating Oliver Jones. She wanted to seduce and subjugate him. A more psychological long game. So she took the only logical way out of the sexual Mexican standoff she found herself in. And gave Oliver Jones the most teasing testicular fondle she could muster, to the sound of her patient going.

“Oooohhhh!”

And loosening his grip of her. Upon which she added.

“Oliver. Not here, not now. But I will let you know when and where before our consult is over.”

And after her patient hesitated for a second, but eventually said.

“Ok.”

She still waited until he completely let go of her body, before she fully let go of his testes in return.

After that the cards were all kind of out on the table. But it did not matter. She still was professional and finished the consult. His blood and urine tests were largely ordinary, she told her patient. Though she still neglected to tell him one key piece of information. That his testicles were vulnerable to torsion. Something she decided she better keep to herself as a convenient factoid in her back pocket. Should it ever become a handy piece of information in the future.