Was I a bad person?
If you asked my buddies that question, they'd jokingly tell you yes. Tell you that I was a fraud doctor that only got into the chiropractic profession so I could get my hands on beautiful women. That under the guise of alternative medicine, I'd given myself free rein to touch body parts without instantly being thumped with a harassment claim.
I did enjoy treating an attractive female, sure. But those occurrences were so few and far between, especially for my struggling practice. My usual fare consisted of arthritic senior citizens, heavyset folks with bad backs, or car accident victims who'd rather be anywhere else.
So, when a sexy, blonde model in her twenties glides into my clinic on her own volition, can you really blame me for jumping at the opportunity to treat her? To dote on her a bit more, give her special attention. It wasn't everyday that I won the patient lottery.
SESSION 1
Initial Assessment
My professional integrity was tested the day she walked in. How she'd even discovered my practice, I had no clue.
When my assistant escorted her into my compact treatment room, it was like heaven opening a radiant portal, to let one of their angels grace the presence of mere mortals like myself.
"Hi, I'm Belle Adelson," she said.
I gulped in my throat to clear it. "I'm Dr. Derek Worthy."
I closed the door from the inside to give us some privacy, my mouth starting to salivate like a hungry dog at the sight of juicy steak.
"Where do you want me?" she asked.
I wanted to say,
bend over my table, please, pants down and legs spread.
Instead, I nonchalantly pointed to my treatment table.
"So Belle, what brings you in today?" I asked.
"Self-care. My body's basically my job. I'm a model."
"Interesting. You do the whole runway thing?"
"Mostly print and digital. For swimsuits, under-apparel, stuff like that."
I took the opportunity to scan her body (like a doctor should!). She fit the bill all right. Slim hourglass profile, flat stomach, distinct curves that justified the existence of the bikini industry.
"I've never been to a chiro before," she said. "Had plenty of massages though. Do I take my clothes off?"
I was thrown askew by the question. Was she seriously asking, or just pulling my leg? I regarded her face, those mesmerizing blue eyes were oozing sincerity, seeking a sincere answer from me.
I could feel a surge of adrenaline, my heart rate spiking. My thoughts went to my buddies' accusations for why I wanted to be a chiropractor. I hated how, in this very moment, they were going to be validated...
"Your shirt and bottoms off, please," I said. "I need to assess your spine."
"Sure, no problem," Belle replied, before slipping her crop top off, her capri pants followed.
She presented herself now in just a sports bra and compression shorts, both a milky shade of orange. It made for a mouth-watering palette against the light tan on her white skin. Reminded me of those creamsicles I loved devouring in the hot summer as a kid.
"Stand please," I said. Then I nestled right behind her rear, so cognizant of how close my crotch was to the curve of her rump. I placed two fingers at her mid back, tips sinking into her soft skin.
I palpated slowly, tracing down the length of her spine. Each time I applied pressure, I swore each point of contact sent electric pulses through my arms, straight to my balls, churning the turbine that powered me down there.
"How's my back looking, Doc?" she asked, breaking me from my reverie.
"I'll tell ya in a bit," I said, using the opportunity to palpate again, this time, with both my thumbs in the crests of her sacrum, so close to that sumptuous creamsicle-colored treat of an ass.
My fingers then made a return trip, a measured journey back up her spine. I paused at her upper back when my touch pressed into the wide band of her sports bra. I let out a
hmmph
sound, to test her reaction.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"This part of your thoracic spine feels locked up. I need to assess it without constrictions."
"Oh you mean my sports bra? I can take it off if you need," she said. Again, so sincerely.
For all intents and purposes, she didn't need to lose her bra. I could've easily palpated over her band. But fuck, I couldn't help myself. The juicy steak was being served right to me, aroma wafting into my nostrils, the cut perfectly seared for my consumption.
"Yes, go ahead and remove it please," I said.
With her back toward me, Belle slipped her fingers below the hem at her torso, then pulled the tight material up and over. My horny mind was playing welcome tricks on my ears, assuring me I'd heard the sound of her ample breasts flopping out of fabric.
Belle walked seven steps forward to place her sports bra atop a nearby counter. As she spun to return, she brought her forearm up to cover her chest. I courteously averted my eyes—for now.
When she returned with her back to me, her arm still masking her bust, my inner-demon decided to make another cameo...
"Belle, if you don't mind placing your arm back down at your side, I need to assess your natural standing posture."
"Of course," she replied, complying without confrontation.
Cha-ching!
I had her right where I wanted. Over her shoulder, a full length mirror was fastened on the opposite wall. It gave me a reflection of her frontside, of those two natural mounds that sat beautifully on her chest. It was too bad there wasn't a chiropractic adjustment that involved squeezing breasts, especially ones like Belle's.
Next, I gently flipped her hair over the front of her shoulders, so I could palpate her upper back unobstructed. Just lifting her blonde locks unlocked a scent so intoxicating, it convinced me her scalp had released pheromones.
"How's your neck feeling?" I asked, my fingers now on her cervical spine below the base of her skull.
"Neck's a little stiff, Doc. I think I sleep too much on my stomach."
"That's not ideal. But let's see if we can get you right. Lie face up on my table, please."
"On it."
I swear, I didn't "conveniently forget" to tell her that she could've put her clothes back on for this next part. But the way she reacted, so amenably, as if there was nothing wrong with my guidance, it made me just want to keep pushing forward, see how much more I could get away with.
She lay on her back atop my leather treatment table, her arms at her side, which meant that her bare breasts were out in the open. They looked even better than in a reflection.
I sat on my rolling stool and swiveled behind her head. Then I slipped my hands under her neck, flexed the latter gently to loosen her muscles.
"Alright Belle, just relax now."
"Is this going to hurt?" she asked.
"It'll feel like relief. You can trust me. Close your eyes and take a deep breath for me."
