I had been having serious trouble with premature ejaculation, and my sex
life with my wife had come to a complete stand still. Each time we began to make
love, an irresistible urge to let go would seize me, and I would spill my
essence on her threshold, leaving her wet, sticky and frustrated. We tried every
remedy we could think of: creams, pills, constriction devices; but nothing
seemed to help. Finally, my wife heard of a sex therapist who specialized in
treating men with my problem and made an appointment for me. I balked when I
learned that the therapist was a woman, being embarrassed to reveal such an
intimately male problem to a female. But my wife insisted, explaining that the
doctor was very famous and known for using the most advanced methods. Being
desperate to try anything, I finally agreed to see her. On the day of my
appointment, I entered the spacious, modern office and announced myself to an
attractive young woman seated at the receptionist's desk. She smiled and said,
"Go right in, Mr. Mason, Dr. Wilson is waiting for you." I'm not sure what I
expected to see as I stepped into the doctor's private office. Probably a mousey
middle-aged woman dressed in the usual cool-white uniform of the medical
professional. I surely wasn't prepared for the incredible sight I encountered.
Instead of the mousey doctor was a devastatingly beautiful Amazon. She was
wearing a black leather garment that covered her hips and waist like a long
corset, hugging them tightly. The corset made no attempt to hide her
spectacularly large breasts, which hung proudly bare. A leather strap rose from
the front of the corset, running up the deep cleavage between her breasts and
spreading them slightly apart, until it joined a band encircling her neck. Her
feet were shod in black leather boots which rose from her toes nearly to the top
of her thigh. And to complete the extraordinary attire, her hands and forearms
were encased in elbow length patent gloves, also of black. As she sat there on a
low rattan couch, her knees wide apart in a masculine posture, her commanding
presence was overwhelming. I was speechless with confusion, and so excited by
the vision before me that I completely lost control of myself. Before I knew
what was happening, I had ejaculated in my pants. From my spastic jerks and the
telltale growing wet spot in my crotch, she had no problem concluding what had
happened. She shook her head sadly, "Well, Peter, your wife was not
exaggerating. You obviously have quite a problem controlling your emissions." I
stammered, "I... I... wasn't expecting to see..." "To see me dressed this way?
No, I suppose not. Yet I have found this attire useful in treating difficult
cases such as yours. As you will see, it helps establish the proper
psychological atmosphere. But now it is time for your treatment. Begin, please,
by removing your trousers and underwear." I shyly complied, blushing as I stood
before her naked from the waist down. To my added embarrassment, my penis still
oozed small drops of semen from its involuntary ejaculation. She walked over
and, taking my genital organs in her hands, began examining them. "Hmm...I see
nothing physically wrong with your organs. As I suspected, your problem is
entirely psychological. Quite simply in layman's language, you lack the
willpower necessary to control you emissions. But there is hope for you, Peter.
I shall help you gain the necessary self-discipline. Let us begin with the
orgasm which you just experienced." With one hand, she took my limp penis in a
snugly comforting grip and lifted it gently away from my male sacks. She smiled
mysteriously at me for a moment, then without warning brought her other hand up
suddenly, slapping my defenseless testicles hard with her leather- encased palm.
I shrieked and collapsed to the floor in misery. "You must learn, Peter, not to
ejaculate without first obtaining permission. Otherwise, there will be severe
punishment. Now get up and stop acting like a baby. We will begin your
exercises." She led me to a small dining table and made me drink in quick
succession several large glasses of ice tea. The liquids passed rapidly through
my system, and soon I began shifting uncomfortably with the need to relieve my
bladder. "Please, Doctor Wilson, I'd like to go to the rest room now. May I?"
She smiled cruelly, "No Peter, you may not. This is an exercise to teach you to
hold your water. Medically speaking, urinary continence is little different from
ejaculatory control, and the self-restraint you learn here will apply to your
sexual problem." As the pressure in my bladder grew, I begged and pleaded with
her. Finally she seemed to relent, and handed me a small wide-mouthed bottle.
"Very well, you may release your water into this specimen bottle. But be very
careful not to spill any urine on my carpet." Refusing my pleas for privacy, she
watched as I inserted my penis into the bottle and loosed a flooding stream.
Although it was humiliating to perform this bodily function in front of her, all
other concerns were swept away in the heavenly sense of relief. But as the warm
yellow liquid rose toward the top, I suddenly realized that the small bottle
could not possibly hold all of my offering. Anxiously I said, "Uh, I'm not done.
May I have another bottle?" She shook her head, "No, that is enough for now
Peter. I want you to retain the rest of your fluid." With the urine nearly
overflowing the bottle, I cried in panic, "Please, Doctor, don't make me stop in
the middle. It hurts to shut it off!" "Peter!" she said sternly. "Stop at once,
I say. Don't force me to punish you again." She raised her gloved palm toward my
naked genitals. I still felt a dull ache in my glands from earlier, so I
grimaced and cut off the flow. The agony of interrupted urination was preferable
to another such strike at the core of my manhood. "That's better. Now empty the
bottle in the sink. In a few minutes, I will allow you to discharge another
portion of your water." Twice more she repeated the torment, until finally I was
at ease. "So far so good, Peter. Now we will begin to work on the sexual
fluids." She seated herself comfortably on the couch. "Kneel down in front of me
and masturbate your penis." I was mortified by her order. "Please Doctor, I
can't. Not while you watch. It's too humiliating." "Stop wasting time. You're
eager enough to masturbate on your own. Your wife has told me how often she
catches you at it. Now do as I say!" It was strange, but the commanding tone of
her voice and the awesome spectacle of her Amazonian beauty left me powerless to
disobey. Kneeling submissively before her, I took my penis in my hands and began
to caress it. My head was level with her large bare breasts, and my eyes were
drawn to them, as she doubtless intended. I longed to suckle at her prominent
nipples and to bury my face between them, but I knew better than to ask for such
a favor. After a while, I began to feel a curious excitement at performing in
front of her. I wanted her to see me commit this most shameful of all sexual
acts, to witness my humiliating surrender to the unnatural lust. But she did not
long allow me to savor the situation. "Peter, don't think that I am encouraging
you to perform this exhibition for your perverted enjoyment. This is an exercise
to increase your ability to control your ejaculatory urges. Therefore, when you
approach your orgasm, you will at my command remove your hands from your organs
and place them behind your back, suspending all further stimulation. I know it
will be hard, Peter, you will want very badly to release your semen. But you
must exercise self-discipline, for two reasons. First, because it is important
for your sexual adjustment and the sake of your marriage. And second, if that
does not persuade you," she smiled cruelly, "because if you ejaculate I shall
spank you on the testicles until you will wish that you had been castrated!" I
did not doubt her threat. She watched coolly as I continued stroking my penis,
observing the signs of mounting arousal as my orgasm neared. With a skilled
professional eye, she waited until I was just seconds from climax and cried,
"Stop!" Summoning my last shred of moral courage, I relinquished the grip on my
organs. She grinned as I kneeled dutifully before her with my hands behind my
back and my forsaken penis bobbing forlornly in the air. "Very good, Peter, very
good indeed." She extended her booted foot and flicked my penis playfully with
her toe. "For the first time, that is. Again, please." I lost count of the
number of times the cruel torture was repeated. Again and again she watched me
bring myself to the brink of release only to jerk me back with her command. At
last she ceased and motioned me to stand before her. "You have done well for
your first treatment, Peter, and it is all over, now. It wasn't so very
terrible, was it?" she said, smiling kindly at me. Her eyes focused on my penis,
still bobbing very erectly before me. "I see that there is some residual
vascular tension in your genitals. That is often a side effect of the treatment.
I think you would be more comfortable if we relieved the tension, don't you?" As
she spoke, she took the tip of my erect member and began rolling it between her
fingers, holding it just inches from the deep cleavage of her breasts. I could
hardly believe what she seemed to be offering. "Are you going to... to...?"
"Masturbate you? You'd like that, wouldn't you? No, Peter, we must not reinforce
your childish dependence on that habit. I will relieve your tension, but in a
way more beneficial to your sexual adjustment. Lie across my lap, now." "What...
what are you going to do?" "Well, your wife sent you to me because you've been a
very naughty boy. And we both know what happens to naughty boys, don't we?" She
laid me over her lap, carefully placing my penis between her leather-clad
thighs. It was dripping with excitement and soon made a slippery home for
itself. I could feel the tips of her nude breasts tickling my back. "Comfy? Now
I'm going to paddle you, Peter. It will hurt at first, so don't be ashamed to
cry and kick." She began spanking me hard with her hand, the leather glove
making a loud popping sound. Indeed, it did hurt, and I began to kick my bare
legs and beg her to stop. But in spite of the painful slaps, my penis was rock
hard, and with each blow it rubbed deliciously between her boot tops. I
continued to cry and beg her to stop, but it must have been very clear to her
that this was the last thing I wanted. I was getting very close to climax, and
the slaps were as hard as ever, but now they felt heavenly. I wanted nothing
more than to lie forever on the lap of this divine creature, prolonging the
rapture of the spanking eternally. But I could not hold back the course of
nature for long, and at last I cried out, "Oh Doctor, I'm going to... I can't
help..." But she was fully aware of my state. "Yes, that's right, Peter, let go
on my lap. Just let it come out when you feel like it." My penis quivered and
began spurting its fluids between her legs. She accelerated the slaps, timing
them perfectly to each surge of my ejaculation, which seemed almost endless. At
last I ceased, and the rain of blows became gentle pats on my perspiring
backside. "There, there. All done now," she soothed. She left me alone for a few
minutes to dress and collect myself. When she returned, she also was dressed, in
her doctor's whites. As she walked me to the door, she asked, "When would you
like your next appointment? I recommend two corrective treatments per week." I
asked, "Could... could we make it three? I think the extra treatment would be
very... good for me." She smiled knowingly. "All right. Three it is, then." --
end --
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