Chapter 01 Come Quickly

"Don't worry, success is guaranteed," she said. My head spun as she leaned forward smiling. Deep red lipstick. Too-white teeth. Cruel eyes. A shark's smile. Her black gloved hand hit me like a bolt of lightning. Pain seared from my abused thigh into my agitated brain.

Her rapturous giggles complemented my howls of torment.

Cutting off mid-giggle, she leaned forward. Breath hot in my ear she whispered: "Don't fight it."

I felt something solid click shut around my cock.

She moved back, pointing a small remote at me.

"We'll sing this symphony of agony together," she said, pushing a button.

Agony overtook rational thought. The haze of pain forced my mind back to the beginning.

***

Tick. ´

Tick.

Tick.

Each tick of the antique mantel clock reminded me of my therapist's extravagant hourly rate. The silent struggle to find words was getting expensive. To cut costs, I resorted to a cliché.

"I'm at my wits end."

Eyes on my dossier, the therapist nodded. He continued his silent reading for about a minute, then looked up at me. Sympathy in his eyes, he sighed, steepled his fingers and furrowed his brow.

The clock kept ticking.

Silently, I lamented the price of his gestures.

"I have good news," he finally said. "We can help. Best of all, our program guarantees success."

I nodded. The 'Succes Guaranteed' line on their brochure sounded too good to be true, but I was desperate enough to suspend my disbelieve.

"But how?"

"Technology," he replied. As if one word explained everything.

Sensing my confusion he continued.

"Integrated Virtual Reality Therapy. IVRT gives you direct access to your core personal values. We use it to help you accept difficult emotions and reframe your personal narrative. It allows you to make positive behavioral changes in record time."

Tipped off by my dubious expression, he quickly changed tack.

"I'll be blunt," he said, leaning forward. "By law I have to say that one hour in an IVRT-Sheath is equivalent to ten hours of therapy. In truth it is much, much more effective. One hour in the Sheath works; even in cases where ten thousand hours of therapy wouldn't make a dent."

I don't know if it was him reading my reactions so well, the sudden honesty or the burning conviction in his eyes. Maybe it was all three. Before I knew it, I had signed the dotted line on every waiver and contract he pushed towards me. There were lots of them. The last one was a payment plan. IVRT was not cheap.

***

His phone rang as I signed the last stack of documents.

He looked askance at me. "Do you mind? They wouldn't disturb me if it wasn't important."

I waved a hand that I didn't as I pushed the last of the papers over to him. Clutching the horn of his classic handset between his shoulder and ear, he gathered the papers and stuck them in a brown folder.

Knocking without waiting for an answer, a nurse in white scrubs, bristling with efficiency, entered. The therapist was deeply engrossed in a conversation that seemed to revolve around him saying ´umh', 'yes' and 'no'. She looked at him, then motioned me to follow her. The richly carpeted hallway outside the stuffy office led to a mahogany clad elevator. The push of a stylish copper button sent us to the basement.

***

In no time at all, the bell dinged and the doors slid open.

"Follow me," she said. Her white sneakers squeaked as she left the elevator's dark green carpet and stepped onto the basement's off-green linoleum.

I followed.

The elevator's outer doors slid shut behind me, cloaking the out of place, vintage interior with sleek metal doors. I looked around the brightly lit hallway. The off-green floor was the only color on display. The ceiling, lights, walls and a dozen of unmarked doors where all white.

We took a corner. It revealed another white hallway and even more doors. The contrast with the richly carpeted, vintage offices upstairs was stark. I felt lost, floating on an off-green river in a bright white landscape.

"This way," she said, giving me a bland, corporate smile while holding a door open. The door, seemingly picked at random, revealed a square, white room dominated by a polished metal frame. A shiny, oversized, synthetic sleeping bag hung from it, suspended by clusters of cables. Distracted by the chunky, heavy duty zipper running along its front, I almost missed the plastic chair behind the sleeping bag. For some reason it was bolted to the floor.

"Place your clothes there," the nurse said with a perfunctory tone. She waved an arm in the general direction of the chair.

"I have to get naked?"

Ignoring my question, she pulled the zipper down. The sleeping bag cracked open with a wet squelch.

She turned her attention back to me. I caught a look of disapproval, quickly hidden behind a professional mask.

"Look, there's a lot to do and we are on the clock."

I tried my most charming smile.

"Sorry, but I did not expect..."

Her eyes hardened.

"Did not expect? Don't you remember the primer?"

Did I miss something the therapist said while listening to his ticking clock?

"I know it's a lot of money," she said, "but you shouldn't take risks. This session may be non-refundable, but your health is irreplaceable. Do you want to go back upstairs and reschedule the treatment?"

Primer? Non-refundable? I couldn't afford the payment plan as it was; let alone pay for another one. To distract the nurse, I gave a vague grunt and quickly stripped, placing my folded clothing on the bolted down chair.

I felt her suspicious eyes following my every move.

I stood in front of her. Legs crossed, one hand cupping my genitals, the other hovering undecidedly between my chest and crotch. I shivered while trying to smile.

Apparently won over by my nervous stance, her bland smile returned.

"Don't worry," she said, "everyone gets nervous. It'll all work out. Success is guaranteed. Just step into the Sheath."

She held the odd looking sack open. I placed my foot in the sleeping bag, Sheath I corrected myself, and tried to find purchase for my hand. The inside of the Sheath was pleasantly warm.

Holding the contraption steady, she guided me. "No, place your left hand first. Not there! That's the right arm sheath. There. Good. Now place your right arm."

With efficiency born from practice, she helped me sink into the Sheath's warm embrace.

It took a bit of wriggling, but soon I was dangling in what felt like a large, warm hand. It clutched me ever so softly. She pulled the zipper up. The Sheath's grip tightened with a loud wet squelch. I thought it would hurt, but it actually made it even more comfortable. I sighed happily. I felt as if I was suspended in a warm, upright bath.

"This session is set for one hour," she said. "You probably didn't need it during the primer, but don't forget the pause function. Test sessions only lasts a minute, giving you a pleasant day in VR. This session takes an hour. That can easily feel like a year. Pause if gets too overwhelming. We will not distract the first three pauses from your runtime."

She started working a big hood over my head. As it closed over my ears, the last thing I heard her say was: "Good luck mister Johnson."

Mister Johnson? That wasn't my name! I tried to object as a wet squelch announced the hood had fixed itself tightly to the rest of the Sheath.

Trapped in darkness, I panicked. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, admit my lie. A warm, wet ball slid between my teeth, depressed my tongue and silenced me.

The Sheath's embrace tightened. First it pinned my arms and legs in place, then it started moving them against my volition. My attempt to fight against the involuntary movements was answered by a pinprick in my leg. A warm feeling spread from it and flowed through my body. I felt calmer and stopped fighting.

The Sheath played with my arms and legs a bit, then it pinned them in place. Tightening further its interior layer started moving against my skin. Tiny mouths crept over my body. They licked and nibbled everywhere. My fingers and toes where sucked in by tiny mouths, tongues licking. Ticklish as I was, I couldn't fight against it. The gag in my mouth made screaming and giggling impossible. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, all I could do was moan around my ball gag.

That wasn't entirely true. I found out I could gasp and groan around the gag too. I discovered it when my balls and dick where rather forcefully sucked into mouths of their own.

After a few minutes the tickling tongues stopped. It felt as if my toes, fingers, balls and dick where in someone's mouth - well multiple someone's - but everyone involved was holding very still. Then an odd tingling sensation began. It started around my nostrils and ears, creeping into those orifices, filling them. I gasped, feeling violated by the tickling in odd places. Could this get any worse? As if in answer the same sensation started - ever so slowly -- around my asshole. Feeling the tickling move up into my pucker, I screamed into my gag.

Finally the tickling stopped. I hung in my dark floating cell, filled with dread and anticipation.

Suddenly there was a bright flash.

***

I opened my eyes. I was comfortably ensconced in a metal framed bed with a thick mattress. The bed stood in the center of a small hospital room. It looked like it belonged somewhere halfway along the last century. Next to the door I saw a glass paned medicine cabinet, filled with brown bottles and rolls of bandages. A large, glass bottle hung suspended from a wheeled metal contraption by my side. Spotting the rubber hose dangling from the bottle, I realized it was an antique IV. Through the open window I saw an impossibly blue sky. The outline of a palm tree waved softly in the wind. I heard seagulls scream.

The door opened. A flowery smell preceded a blond woman in a blue, short sleeved dress. A white apron and matching cap marked her as a nurse. Her classic uniform barely managed to conceal the perfectly proportioned body it held. Her full lips, coated in classic red lipstick, smiled a beautiful smile. A small mole on her left cheek served to accentuate her middle of the twentieth century good looks.

Instinctively I fought against lurid thoughts creeping up from the basest parts of my brain. I failed. My dick twitched, the tip tingled in anticipation. My mind fed it wild, lust-filled images, increasing my arousal. I tried to keep my body under control by closing my eyes and thinking of mundane things. Her flowery scent smashed those thoughts aside. Guiltily, I felt the sheets rise as my dick stiffened. My mouth went dry while my mind kept conjuring image after unthinkable image. I felt ashamed at my despicable true nature.

"How are we feeling? Did you have a smooth transition?"

Her bright blue eyes where locked on the tent formed by my sheets. She smiled as she watched it wiggle.

"Don't worry, we'll see to that in a minute."

She picked up the clipboard hanging from the footboard.

"First things first. What's your name?"

Suddenly hopeful I gave her my name.

"Interesting stage name mister Johnson," she smiled, "I'll call you that if you want to, but I can't use it on your chart."

My hope died, but immediately sprang up again as I realized I no longer had the gag in my mouth. Or was it still there? Was I gagged in an odd fleshy sleeping bag somewhere, and was this all a dream? Or was I actually in a comfortable hospital, talking to a pretty nurse?

Looking at her I felt very conscious of my hard cock. Blood rushed through my veins. It felt as if every single drop was employed to make my cock as hard as possible. My heart pounded in my ears. I felt a drop of pre-cum forming. Would it leak through the sheets?

As I tried to swallow with my dry mouth, I wondered what was wrong with me. I knew I was a pervert, but I wasn't this perverted? Was I? Poor nurse. If she could read half my thoughts, she'd run from the room.

Realizing I had missed her follow-up questions, I nodded assent. I didn't want to explain to her why I was distracted.

Her eyes lit up in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Impossible as it was, I swear I saw her nipples harden through her skirt and apron. As if I wasn't horny enough. Whatever, I thought, as I swallowed and croaked a 'yes' at her.

She nodded briskly. With a big smile, she wrote something on my chart and returned it to footboard.

"Well, that's a first. Very brave. A full session without limits. Succes is most definitively guaranteed."

I wanted to ask what I had agreed to, but her thin, nimble fingers distracted me. She'd moved them to her sides and with a few quick twists, she untied her apron's bows.

Winking, she dropped the apron to the floor.

For a second I thought my dick had twitched so hard, it had thrown my sheet after the apron. A quick glance told me I was still covered.

Her hands found the front of her blue skirt. With a quick pull, she popped the row of snap buttons open. Her perky tits, framed in a white, half cup, lace bra popped out. The bra held them out provocatively, pointing her exposed nipples forward. Proudly offering them to be played with.

"Let's see what we're working with," she said and pulled the sheet of my bed. I stifled a panicked giggle as I imagined my dick springing out like a jack-in-the-box.

"Excellent," she said, taking a minute to examine my cock. She moved her face in close, tapped the shaft with two fingers and prodded my stomach. Nodding with satisfaction she looked me in the eye.

"Are you ready for the rest of your exam?"

Without waiting for an answer, she held her arms back, allowing her dress to slide off. The she bent forwards, sliding her white, lace knickers down over her matching garters and stockings. Lifting one classic, flat heeled pump after the other, she daintily stepped out of the knickers and moved towards the bed.

I looked at her pussy. A narrow slit with slightly puffy lips, shaved completely bare. She slipped a finger into it. As she pulled it out I followed that finger. She moved it towards her mouth, sucked on it and then gave a soft giggle.

"Ready?", she said.

Without waiting for an answer she climbed on the bed and straddled me. Her pussy, hot and wet, pressed down on my stomach. She leaned forwards and squeezed my nipples.

"Let's find out what excites you." She said, her voice husky.

I tried to grab her tits but my arms where stopped with a clunk. I looked. They where fixed to the bed with leather cuffs and chains.

I tried my legs. Another clunk.

"This is my show," she said.

Wriggling over my belly, she moved back, lifting her ass so she could line up her wet, bare pussy with the tip of my engorged dick. She took her time aiming. Satisfied with the angle, she slowly sunk down. I felt the tip of my dick pushing against her warm pussy. Despite her wetness, she was still too tight. It didn't stop her. I gasped as her tight pussy hurt my glans going in.

"Take it," she groaned, sliding further down. Entering her fully, the pain was replaced by pleasure. Soon my cock was sliding down her wet passage. Moaning, she placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. Then she started riding me.

Every time her wet pussy slammed down, my dick pulsed harder. I moaned as I gazed at her pert tits, framed by that beautiful lace bra. I marveled at her rapturous face. She moaned as she pushed herself up and moaned even loader as she slid down. The friction lessened as she got wetter, making her motions smoother. She upped her tempo in response.

Soon my balls contracted and my throat went dry, I knew I was about to have a very serious orgasm. I couldn't stop my own moans anymore.

At the edge of my eruption she froze. Sitting dead still on top of me, panting softly, she giggled.

I opened my eyes, not realizing I'd closed them.

She looked at me with a wicked smile on her pretty face and said: "Not just yet."

She carefully slid of me. I almost came from that move alone. Hell, I almost came just by looking at her. Her blond hair, matted with sweat, still held the white nurse's cap. Her bright blue eyes, filled with lust, bored straight into mine.

Somehow she got off me without getting me off. She walked to the end of the bed, picked up my chart and made some notes. Occasionally she glanced at me, clicked her tongue, shook her head and wrote some more.

As she worked, I felt the peak of my lust subsiding. My dick was still rock hard though. I feared my pent up lust would keep it that way forever. Her juices cooling on my cock came to the rescue. The cold helped my erection subside. Slightly.

I was still frustrated and my balls hurt, but going half mast took the painful strain off my shaft. That was something.

After a few minutes of writing, she returned the chart and walked out of the room without saying a word.

I waited in silence. The faint throbbing in my balls increased. 'Blue balls,' a friend once told me 'hurt more than people are willing to admit. You should take care to avoid them." My hand moved to my dick. A loud clunk reminded me masturbation wasn't an option.

I waited.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Time passed.

I was getting worried.

"Don't leave me like this!"

The only answer I got was a seagull's screech.

Somehow I dozed off.

***

The sound of a stool scraping along the floor woke me. The nurse, still clad only in lingerie and pumps, entered my room. She smiled at me. Looking at my dick, she cocked her eyebrow.

"Still at half mast? Interesting."

She picked up the chart and made a note.

"Where were you?" I croaked.

Ignoring me, she kneeled to the side of my bed. I heard a grunt, followed seconds later by an ominous rattling. My bed shivered and moved.

"What are you doing?"

More rattling was my only answer. Then I felt it. Slowly but surely, my legs and arms where pulled apart. The rattling went on until I lay splayed as if tied to a keeled over Saint Andrew's cross.

She got up and moved her stool between my legs. Nodding with satisfaction, she sat down. Her tits framed my dick. I looked her in the eyes. She winked, blew me a kiss, moved her head down and took my cock between her bright red lips.

I moaned as I felt her tongue swirl softly around my glans. In seconds I was fully erect again. A few more seconds made me even harder than before. It actually hurt. She giggled. It send a shiver down my dick. Then she slid down the length of my shaft. I felt her warm mouth as it slowly traveled down. Her chin hit my pubes and the tip of my dick hit the back of her throat. She held still for a moment, then went further down. I marveled as she deep throated me.

After a second, she moved up again and took her mouth of my cock. She took a ragged breath. Her red lipstick left smears on her chin, cheeks and the shaft of my cock. Her mascara started running. To my surprise the messy makeup made me even hornier. It was like a brightly lit sign saying 'we going at it, full tilt'. My cock throbbed in response.

"Interesting," she said, taking my dick in her hand and squeezing it softly. A drop of precum formed on the tip. She stuck out her tongue and licked it up. It sent electricity down my shaft.

She opened her mouth and her red lips enclosed my dick again. This time she moved faster. Falling into a steady rhythm she licked my glans, moved slowly down my shaft until I was deep in her throat. There she waited a second before moving back up. Her head bobbed up and down as she repeated these movements. Somewhere along the blow job, her nurse's hat fell off.

The throbbing in my balls intensified as her chin hit my pubes again. In fact, I felt the entire length of my shaft shiver. Individual drops of precum came faster, becoming a steady trickle. My mouth went dry, my hands twitched and I felt a scream of release forming in the back of my throat. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop it when the eruption came.