I have deep respect for the Military, though not as much for the Governments that direct them. Military Therapists deserve our most profound respect, and I would assume that there are Therapists that do things in a similar fashion as my Hero in this fictional tale. It is my hope that they enjoy their jobs as much as Cindy does.
There is anal penetration and a scene of reluctant sex in this story.
Diary of a Military Therapist
I guess I was a slut when I went to University. I had grand ideas about helping people with their physical problems, but College life was a lot of fun! I had so much sex that I didn't study as hard as I should in the first year, and almost lost my academic eligibility.
I was building up student loans, and they never go away, until you pay them, so I really hunkered down in my second year, and made the Dean's List. The big turnaround happened when I shifted to Sexual Therapist, and finally to Sexual Surrogate.
The training in my third year was intense, and mostly what they call, 'in the field'. I would travel with an experienced Surrogate, to the homes of men with sexual dysfunction, and help her as she worked him towards an erection, or taught him how to use his penis implants to satisfy first us, and eventually his wife or girlfriend. Sometimes his penis was beyond help, and they learned how to use a strap on, and we taught many to give better oral pleasure to their partners.
We did clinical work for the V.A. as a part of our training, so it wasn't surprising that I continued to work with them when I graduated.
I wish I could just claim my love of Country, but although much of my work involved traumatic injury to their manhood, they were still healthy, handsome, and very fit young men. They were warriors!
I was only a contract employee for the military, but my boss was Colonel James Rockwell M.D., and he treated us all like we were under his command. We received a flat $200. for every two hour session, and I had a lot of student debt, so I was soon doing the maximum of three a day, often having my third session after dinner.
The therapy that I do involves a lot of oral work, so I had three tongue clips installed. Two in the bowl of my tongue, about a half inch apart, and a smaller, almost weightless one near the tip of my tongue. It took a while for me to be able to talk normally with these balls in place, but I learned to enunciate my words, not wanting to look and talk like a hooker for the rest of my life. Not that I'm against prostitution. I believe that they have their role to play.
I am not an imposing woman, standing at only 5 ft. 4 and 98 pounds. My breasts are actually a double B, but my waist line was only 19 inches back then.
"Okay, Master Sergeant Carmichael, I went through your file this morning, and I believe that I can help you to regain control over your sex life." I explained to him at our first meeting.
"I don't know what the fuss is about, Miss. I have no problems with my sex life. I have girlfriends coming out of the woodwork," he assured me.
"Well the file says that you can't establish an erection, is that true, or not?" I questioned the man, indicating to him where it was written on his file.
"It must be some kind of clerical error, Miss." he continued with his denial.
"Okay, Sergeant. I will have to confirm that. Drop the pants and present arms, mister." I insisted.
He was acutely aware that I held a civilian rank of 1st Lieutenant, and any order regarding healthcare should be considered an order from an Officer.
The Sergeant lowered his pants and his military jockey shorts. His cock hung there quite limp.
I looked him right in the eye.
"I want to see some wood, soldier," I commanded.
He just stood and returned my stare.
I lifted my scrub top over my shoulders and dropped it on his automan.
No reaction.
I pushed my scrub pants to the floor, and stood in front of my client with a deep cut lacy bra and a red thong that rode high on my hips.
Nothing.
I reached behind my back and unclasped the boulder holders, then lowered the bra to the table, while looking in his eyes for the distress that might rise before his manhood could.
"I watch so much porn that you just don't turn me on, Miss Gabor," he informed me, but his eyes traveled down my body and I could see the tension in his eyes as his brow started to bead with sweat.
I hooked my thong with both thumbs and tugged the fabric out, then I pulled steadily down, parting my legs slightly to release the crotch from my moist mound. As I went down, bending my knees, I kept eye contact.
Then I stood, and stepped out of my panties.
"Please have a close look Bart," I whispered.
His eyes again traveled down my body, and I leaned back so that he could see my labia hanging down about an inch from my vagina.
"If you work with me Bart, there is a good chance that you will regenerate those nerves," I explained quietly. "Then I will let you ride me until you make me cum."
He stared, and licked his lips unconsciously.
"We can take it slow," I explained, and his eyes came up to mine again.
"How do we do it slow Ma'am?" he asked and I knew that I had him.
Over the next 2 months I met with Master Sergeant Carmichael every second day. We would strip each other, and I would give my patient 2 full hours of penis stimulation which involved the use of my hands and my tongue.
"Just keep tightening your core muscles, like you're getting ready to evacuate your colon," I explained while sucking his limp pole into my mouth and massaging his balls. His file showed no STD's in his past or present, so I could forgo the usual condom.
I am not required to do the exercises naked, but I believed that it would add motivation, so I was willing to go the extra mile.
By the end of the second week I had him exploring my vagina with his fingers, and then with his tongue.
"You're going to make me cum Bart! You better give me a minute to catch my breath." I moaned as he continued his attack on my clit.
I wondered how long it had been since he made a woman cum, but the thought left my head as I spasmed into my first of many orgasms with the warrior known as Master Sergeant Bartholamew Carmichael.
I thought I felt his cock plump a little, so I pushed him into my mouth and ran my tongue studs around his 5 inch penis, while straining my eyeballs to see his face.
The smile told me that he could feel it too.
As we finished the session, Bart was very affectionate and he touched my breasts or my bum every chance he got.
"They won't sign off on daily therapy Bart, but I would like to come every day, while only staying for an hour each time." I suggested.
"Will I really get to make love to you Cindy?" He pleaded.
"When you can get it hard enough to put it in me, I will be very happy to get the jiggy on with you Sarg." I whispered, then kissed him passionately.
"Besides, you have already made love with me many times now."
I still had to suck three cocks on Tuesday, but I spent my dinner hour with Bart, and we just lay in his bed and used our tongues on each other. He gave me three orgasms, which I would not include in my report.
I always had to remain positive about his recovery, and I could see that he had extended to a 6 inch cock, but it was still not firm enough, and only stayed semi erect until I released it from my mouth or hand, then it quickly deflated. We still had work to do.
My appointment after dinner was with a Major Spindler, Peter. The name made me picture a tall thin man, or a thin peter? Some Majors are in their early thirties, but the file put him at 43. The field report did not reveal his weight or height, but his physical complaint involved retaining an erection for an adequate length of time. The Psychiatric referral was out of Miami and there was no other relevant information, except that he was in Military Procurements.
I arrived at the Skyline Towers before 8, but I took the time to sit in their lobby and write up a few progress reports for my boss, and a request for more information on Major Spindler. These reports are in addition to the two hour's of therapy, as are the meetings with the various Specialist Doctors that were treating these soldiers.
"Good evening Lieutenant Gabor. You can put your coat and bags on the couch and go right through to the bedroom while I get myself a mineral water. Can I get you anything?"
"Hi Peter, I like to keep things a bit less formal, if that's okay." I said, extending my hand for a greeting that befit the first meeting of colleagues. "And we need to go over some of your background and learn what's going on, before we go to the bedroom."
I saw what I thought was anger cross his brow as I said his first name and it deepened as I put my hand out.
"I would rather that we maintain a Military Protocol, Miss Gabor, so you will call me Major Spindler, or Sir, and you will get to the bedroom and remove your clothes before I get there, or there will be discipline!" With that said he spun around and marched back into the kitchen.
I picked up my jacket, purse and computer bag, as I listened to the loud bugle call for retreat. Quietly, I closed the door behind me.
I sent an urgent text to my boss before the elevator got to the main floor, but I wasn't staying for another second.
I was doing deep breathing exercises as I drove the freeway home. It always calms me down, while allowing me to drive and not kill a family of 4 from Sheboigan.
When I got to my apartment building, I sat in my jeep and cried for the people of this world that only use others. With a modicum of respect, that Major could have enjoyed 2 hours of bliss, but instead he got to pound salt.
I spent the next hour writing and rewriting my report for the evening. I do not falsify reports, but every document can be interpreted in a variety of ways. I wanted the facts to be clear and non judgemental, while not being a career ender for the prick. He was probably within a year of his 20 year mark, and a retirement based promotion to light Colonel, so his one moment of stupidity should not cause him to lose that.
The next morning I was summoned to Colonel Rockwells office.
"I know that he can be a prick, Cindy, but apparently he has friends in high places, so you will have to go to him, and apologize or it has been made clear to me that the V.A will no longer continue with your employment contract." my boss explained.
I was shocked. Angry and shocked... but I thought about the recovery of so many deserving Patriots, and the fact that I love my job, so I agreed to apologize.
I had to do it in person, so I sent a text to the Major, asking for a time and place.
His text back caught me by surprise.
'You will be expected to provide two hours of therapy, or do not bother to report in tomorrow'
Not even a smiley face emoji.
My University education did not get funded by student loans alone. I spent hundreds of hours taking part in any sexual research project that I could find.
Within BDSM the dominance and submission side often uses humiliation as an aphrodisiac. I was involved with a few such studies, so I could certainly humble myself by apologizing to this asshole, then fuck him for two hours.
I arrived at his door right on time, and I didn't bother with a computer or my purse. I wanted to be able to get the fuck out of there after the dirty deed was done.
"Lieutenant Cindy Gabor reporting for duty SIR!"
The Major looked me up and down, then turned to one side, leaving the path to the bedroom open, but he didn't say a word.
