The Clinic - Part 2 There’s a certain feeling I get every ti..

The Clinic - Part 2

There’s a certain feeling I get every time I step into his clinic. A mix of nervous anticipation and deep submission. It’s not just about check-ups or playful teasing… this is where rules are reinforced, where I am stripped down to my most vulnerable state, physically and mentally.

Today was no different. Dressed in barely anything—just a ridiculously short knitted “dress,” stay-ups, and high heels—I was already on display before anything even began. And, of course, I wore my blind mask, heightening every sensation and fully reducing me to an object in his hands. I was already wet before I even bent over the examination bench, which he quickly confirmed as he pressed his fingers between my thighs. Just that one simple touch and I felt myself twitch, my body reacting instinctively, knowing what was coming next.

But today wasn’t just about pleasure.

Today was about pain.

Before I could even process that, I was ordered to the floor. My hands instantly knew their place—one on his thigh, the other wrapped around his already hard cock. I love this part. Feeling him throb in my mouth, hearing his groans, knowing I am of use. But even as I worked my tongue over him, my mind was elsewhere, already dreading what was to come. Because the worst part? I never know how much I’ll be able to take.

Once his assistant had everything prepared, I was secured into the bondage device on the examination bench. My legs spread, my body locked in place. No escape. And then it began… light slaps at first, nothing too overwhelming, but just enough to make me whimper. I am so sensitive, especially down there. Every hit made me flinch, my body instinctively trying to move away, but the device held me in place.

Then came the real challenge.

Six hits with the riding crop. If I could endure them, I would be rewarded. Not just with words or praise, but with something I actually craved: deep, hard thrusts. A cruel balance of pain and pleasure, knowing that withstanding one meant earning the other. The first few strikes made me whimper, but I knew better than to complain. And when he pushed inside me as a reward, I barely had time to recover before the next set of strikes followed. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was being so deep into subspace, or maybe it was just the sheer overwhelming pleasure that dulled the pain, but somehow, I got through it.

Eventually, he was satisfied. But my humiliation wasn’t over yet.

While still on the bench, I was ordered to move my ass up and down, a humiliating little dance that only made me blush harder. Then, finally, I was allowed to crawl over to him… back to where I belong, back to being of use. I could still taste myself on his cock, still feel the sting on my skin. And just like that, it was over.

Before dismissing me, he handed over my new prescription: a little wand and some clamps. Another reminder that pain and pleasure always come as a package deal.

And another reminder that my body isn’t mine. It belongs to him.