“So I was right, then, and nothing you said was relevant to anything happening right now,” he says in a bored-sounding tone.
“Yeah.” I let out an uneasy laugh and run my shaky fingers through my hair, facing the shower.
His arm reaches around me as he sticks out a hand to turn on the shower. He checks the temperature next and then has me do it too before helping me out of my gown.
It doesn’t take much for him to have the gown falling to the ground, and as I’m stepping in, he blocks the cold air and closes the curtain, leaving only a small gap.
Stepping back, I close my eyes and sink into the warmth of the water. The pressure is wonderful, and the shampoo he uses towash my hair smells like fresh flowers. The soap is exfoliating, and there are new loofahs on a rack that he doesn’t touch. He uses only his hands. For my whole body.
“I figured I’d get the physical part out of the way now so we can skip it later.”
His hands move up and down my body, my legs trembling when his fingers caress my balls. He makes a humming noise, eyes partially closed as he squeezes each of them.
“Everything feels healthy so far. Maybe a little swelling, but that’s an easy fix.”
It’s different having him touch me without gloves. Not as uncomfortable or weird as I thought it would be. His skin is somewhere between rough and soft. He hikes his sleeves up more, and his bicep bulges at the fold of his arm when he squirts more soap onto his fingers. Only, it’s not soap at all.
My eyes widen at the clear bottle holding a matching liquid with a KY label. It’s lube.
“What’s that for?” I’m not sure why I’m asking when I already know the answer.
“Checking your prostate again since it’s always good to have a second look.”
My words close up in my throat when he shoves a finger inside me. He isn’t as gentle as last time, and there wasn’t much warning. He’s humming that weird tune I’d never heard before again, and as he drives deeper inside me, my prostate is hit, not once but twice, and when I moan, he moves his hand faster, creating a loud squelching sound.
He tugs on my cock at the same time, saying something about why it’s important for him to do it, but I’m too focused on my pulse pounding in my ears to catch most of what he says. Heat cascades up my spine, and it’s like electricity is holding me captive. I grip onto the wall and place my other hand on his shoulder.
His shirt is soaking with water, but it doesn’t keep him from driving me crazy from both ends. My brain is scrambled, and if you asked me my name right now, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
“This is all part of staying healthy,” he says. “All part of keeping you that way too. I noticed you had a lot of build up last time, and it isn't good to go too long without release. It’s important to flush out the prostate gland. That can cause uncomfortable pressure down there, along with stress.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say, scratching at the wall and curling my toes. Like he said, it’s all part of it. I don’t ever go to the doctor, so how should I know? I went to the hospital two years ago when I couldn’t stop puking my brains out. It ended in an emergency surgery and I had my gallbladder removed. But no regular checkups have ever been done on me, so all I can do is take his word for it. He’s a doctor. A professional.
My brain shuts off again, short-circuiting when I feel another finger enter me. He spreads them and then thrusts them together. My channel squeezes and my eyes shut, face falling into the water as I scream through my orgasm. My body feels wrung out and used, but I’m the one who used him, aren’t I? I used his fingers to relieve the built-up tension. I used his treatment to feel better mentally and physically.
I’m the one taking advantage. It’s me. He doesn’t have to help me, and if it were anyone else, I’d probably be chained in a basement instead of staying in a luxury suite and receiving complimentary breakfast every day. Any robber would be lucky to have this instead of all the alternatives. I’m lucky, aren’t I? I start to think I am and then he shuts the water off, his hand wrapping around my bandaged fingers. I yelp and he smiles, telling me to be careful as I step out with his hand still applying too much pressure on mine.
I’m bleeding again. I can feel it. The pain is so raw too, and as he wraps a fluffy, warm towel around me, he lifts my hand up. “Oh no, you’re bleeding again.” His tone is completely flat.
Removing the gauze, he sighs softly. “Looks like we will have to go to the exam room before you can nap after all.”
Holding on to him, I whimper when he presses fresh gauze to where I’m bleeding, and he shakes his head. “I think we’re going to have to remove the stitches and start all over.”
An uneasiness crawls in my gut, but I do nothing except nod, and he takes me to where I’ll be having my checkup that wasn’t supposed to be until later. It’s all part of it—him using a sharp tool to break the stitches and a knife to clean out the infection he claims I have, making my wound deeper—and so is him not numbing my skin before doing any of what he does.
I’m on my way to getting better, though. His reassuring words and commitment to go the extra mile tell me I am.
“You did incredible today. Any doctor would be lucky to have the privilege to treat you.”
“I’m sorry I was . . . if I moved too much or made too much noise.” Tears streak my cheeks, my pain still gnawing at me and swallowing me whole.
His eyes soften and he kisses the tip of my finger. I’m wide awake for it this time, and I’m more than sure it’s not a dream. I mean, isn’t kissing boo boos to make them feel better standard in most households? And I am staying in his. Does that make me more than a patient? Why am I wondering that?
“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly normal. You wouldn’t be human otherwise. I’m sorry it was less pleasant this time.”
“It's okay.” I sniffle. “You did what you had to and I’m grateful for your help.” I was saying those words to play the part, but they felt almost genuine coming out of my mouth.
“You are, aren’t you?” His tone is light. “Fuck, you really are the perfect patient. And I’m so glad to finally have you here.”
