It was especially hard today, what with my tongue being so horribly dry and my knees so sensitive and sore. But I had no choice. I never have a choice. The drug won’t give me one. And Dr Ramirez won’t, either.
“Keep going,” she said flatly as I ran my sandpaper tongue around the walls of her vagina. “Don’t stop for a second.”
As always, she had the pen in her hand, ready to write my relief. The pad was somewhere else. She must hide it very well. She produces it from a different place every time.
“You’re really going to earn it today,” she said, smiling. I could not see her. But I knew she was smiling. “Keep going.”
When finally she came, I collapsed forward onto my tender palms. Dr Ramirez rolled her skirt down her attractive but rough, middle-aged legs and went over to the drawers near the window.
“I’m going to give you twenty today,” she declared coldly. “I could tell you were putting little effort into it.”
She peeled off the script and threw it down onto the floor near where I was slumped.
“You know where to come for more. I suggest you work on your technique in the meantime.”
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