"What's wrong with you?"
I could almost feel the disappointment radiating from her as she fixed her eyes on my half-mast cock.
I wish I knew, I thought.
"It's not you, it's me," seemed a better answer.
"Especially not after blowing you in this outfit," she waved her hands over the lace negligee clinging to her nimble body.
How do you respond to that?
"For thirty minutes," she added.
I was still working on a response.
She pointed at my cock.
"And all you have to show me is that?"
To my horror, the humiliation woke my dick. It sprang to attention. Her eyes widened. I tried to say something, anything, but she cut me off and stormed out of the room.
Later, as she said goodbye, she handed me a brochure. The cover said 'Succes Guaranteed'.
She looked at me with an odd mixture of sorrow and pity.
"It really works. You should've met me before my treatment...well you wouldn't have. They really know how to treat anxiety there. Give them a call."
As she left I wondered if I had imagined the brief flash of horror in her eyes as she talked about the treatment.
***
High heels clicking on the terrazzo floor brought my attention back to the present.
The clicking stopped outside my room. My gaze automatically fell on the doorknob.
Nothing happened.
I've got to get out of here, I thought, pulling ineffectually at my bonds.
A second later I stopped. Why pull at my bonds? This is a simulation. I'm not stuck in this room. I'm stuck in a freaky sleeping bag. Hanging from a frame in a random room. In the basement of an office building. Excluding staff, only my ex knows where I am.
The trail of thought did not inspire confidence.
The doorknob clicked and the door swung open. A tall, pale skinned woman entered the room. She wore a black, nurse's cap. Her steel grey eyes seemed to float in heavy, smokey make-up. She looked me right in the eyes. It felt as if she stared straight into my soul. Liking what she saw, her deep-red lips parted in a cruel smile, revealing too-white teeth.
With a shudder, I dropped my gaze.
Unable to meet her gaze again, I took her in from the corner of my eyes. She wore a deep purple button up dress with a black apron that matched her cap. The uniform looked like an on-the-nose, evil version of the one worn by the nurse that just left. Dark, slightly shorter and showing more skin.
A big silver pin adorned her black apron. 'Head nurse' was embossed on a small plate in the center of a complicated collection of art-deco swirls. Belatedly I realized the swirls formed the letters SG.
Succes Guaranteed.
Her purple dress flared at the bottom, revealing knee-high riding boots, shined to glossy black perfection.
As I felt her piercing gaze take me in, it dawned on me that her boots didn't have heels. My gaze went back to the door. Where was the source of the clicking heels?
I barely had time to register a pair of high heeled ankle boots at the end of very shapely, naked legs. The head nurse briskly moved towards the bed, blocking my view.
Without any preamble, she wrapped a black leather-gloved hand tightly around the base of my cock and balls.
I opened my mouth to protest. She gave my precious parts a hard yank.
I screamed in shock and pain. Was she trying to remove my junk in one fell pull?
Keeping her hand tightly around my dick and balls, she eased down. To my astonishment, my dick reacted instantly, snapping to full attention.
Her smile widened and she gave my junk another hard yank, followed by a slap on the glans with her free leather-gloved hand.
I was too astonished to scream. The sharp pain hit me and filled my vision with cartoonish bright-red stars.
She didn't let up, a flurry of yanks and slaps followed.
Instinct took over as she kept yanking and hitting my poor, abused cock. Fighting the pain, my arms and legs trashed against my bonds. The bed shook under the force I exerted. I rolled my head in agony. My mouth opened in a silent scream; too shocked to make an actual sound.
Through the haze of pain, I saw a red haired woman enter. She was naked, but for a pair of shiny, black high-heeled ankle boots. Her green eyes drew me in, she stared at me with concern as she silently watched my torment.
Having an audience, even an audience of one, added to my humiliation. I felt it creep up through my stomach and mix with the agonized signals coming from my nether regions. It unlocked my vocal cords allowing me to scream again.
***
The pain stopped.
My throat hurt and my head spun as my attention was drawn back to the head nurse.
I took in her cruel eyes and the deep-red lipstick framing too-white teeth. She had a sadistic smile. A shark's smile. One hand still on my cock and balls, her other hand struck out. My glans cringed, but the hit landed on my left thigh.
I screamed even louder than before.
"Thighs are very sensitive," Shark Eyes said conversationally as she slapped my right thigh.
I saw even more stars.
She waited. Her cruel eyes gauging me, making sure I was fully with her before continuing.
"First timers are always surprised when I hit their thighs. They never expect that much pain there. They think their cocks and cunts are the most sensitive parts."
Shaking her head, she slapped my left and then my right thigh. Each hit landed precisely on the red marks of the previous one. New dimensions of pain, hitherto undiscovered, opened up to me and made my brain roil.
