Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Sixty

Day 29

My eyes are glued to the clock on my night stand.  It’s 11:40 PM, and my brain reluctantly registers the implication of the time.  In twenty short minutes, it will be the beginning of the last day before Frost’s “offer” is completely off the table.

I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone by. Twenty-nine full days, and they’ve all snuck away from me like nothing, even though each and every single one of them has been busy and hectic and miserable as hell.

I tear my gaze away from the numbers, pinching the bridge of my nose in exhaustion. Too many thoughts keep trying to take over my mind at the same time, grappling and fighting with each other for my attention. I feel overwhelmed. Beyond overwhelmed, even; like I’m suffocating inside my own body. I seriously feel like I’m on the verge of imploding, at the very edge of having a nervous breakdown. If things keep going the way they’ve been, chances are that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

I wish all my problems could just go away at the snap of my fingers so I wouldn’t have to feel like this, so I wouldn’t have to feel this shitty and miserable and worried all the time, but I know that’s not going to happen. So I figure I’ll do the next best thing—and the only thing, really—that I can right now to relieve some of the stress I feel; take a hot shower.

I saunter over to the bathroom, my feet deliberately slow and steady, taking their time as they carry my exhausted body through the door. There’s no rush. No reason to be hasty. At least not tonight.

I strip as I go, removing piece after piece of all my clothing, letting everything fall where it may. I’m completely naked by the time I step into the shower except for my glasses, which I don’t even realize I’m still wearing until I turn on the shower head.

My vision immediately becomes obscured as my lenses get wet and foggy under the hot spray, nothing but steam and large water droplets coming into my view. But as soon as I feel the hot water hit my skin, I can’t even be bothered to take them off, so I leave them be, all fogged up and everything. Besides, it’s not like I need to see right now. All I want to do is feel; feel the heat and pressure of the water on my body.

The water continues to pour down on me, and my eyes flutter closed at the amazing feel of it running down my back, easing some of the stiffness there and slowly relaxing the overly tense muscles in my neck and shoulders. A small sigh of contentment escapes my lips at the relieving sensations.

I continue to undulate under the pressure of the running water, the hot liquid cascading all over my body, completely drenching my unruly locks, making the tiny curls and springs stretch and sag from the added weight.

The hot water feels great against my hair, against my scalp, against everything; washing away the filth and exhaustion and the typical bar smell of cigarettes and alcohol from my body. But as much as I will it to, it cannot wash away the image of Frost from my mind.

Even with my eyes closed, I can still see his icy eyes with an almost eerie clarity, their unique blue hue magnificent and arresting. Just the memory of them alone is enough to make my body do things I wish it wouldn’t, and it still baffles me that someone’s gaze can be so piercing and penetrating and intense and that the simplest of looks from him can make my body both shiver uncontrollably and burn all over at the same time.

I haven’t seen in him in almost a month, and somehow, somehow he consumes me. Each and every single day, he finds a way to take over my thoughts, occupying all the space in my head without my permission. Even now, I still can’t seem to be able to get away from him, my mind unable to break free from the relentless hold he has on it, not even for a few moments.

…will have full and unrestricted liberties to exercise the use of various bodily devices and gadgets…

…make use of both conventional and unconventional binding and restraining equipment…

…a wide range of assorted and multifarious sexual toys, all of which will be made of one or a combination of the following: silicon, soft and/or hard plastic, glass, metal, wood, leather, silk, marble, yarn, rubber, wax…

I tremble violently as I remember more of the words from that preposterous contract; words he so clearly and definitively wrote.

Every single night since the day of his proposal, I’ve been extremely tempted to touch myself to the thought of him; to the unforgettable memory of his intoxicating eyes and masculine body. And every single time, I’ve adamantly denied myself any pleasure, despite my body’s ever-increasing desire for him. I’m afraid that doing so now, knowing what he wants from me and knowing it could happen if I just say the words, will mean so much more than the simplistic act of masturbating to the memory of a hot guy. That screwing him won’t just be a fantasy in my head any longer. That, on some level, it will be me agreeing to something that I know is very, very possible.

Still, it’s been nothing short of torture trying to convince myself that I feel nothing toward the man in spite of the morally deviant conditions of his “proposition”. But, regardless of his stance on the matter, I know it’s also wrong to want him.

He’s not mine to have, and he never will be. I know it, but my body doesn’t seem to. Heck, it clearly doesn’t give a fuck, either. And now it’s begging me once again, my pussy pleading to get some release from the endless rollercoaster of desire and frustration it’s been through all month long.

I exhale deep and long as my eyes flutter closed behind my glasses once more, bracing myself against the shower wall with one trembling hand while the other moves down my body, lightly caressing my breasts and nipples for the shortest of moments before moving further down.

As the water continues to beat against my skin, an idea quickly crosses my mind. I try to push it away several times, but my efforts prove to be in vain as the stubborn thought keeps coming back and pestering me, beckoning me to act it out.

Eventually, I relent with a sigh, knowing that it was only a matter of time before I gave in.

I reach for the shower head and detach it with an unsure, slightly hesitant hand, slowly lowering it over me and aiming the jet of water directly onto my nipple where my hands have just been. The momentum of the spray hits my sensitive bud a lot harder than I anticipated, making me shriek as all the nerves in it go on overdrive. My first impulse is to move the shower head away from my chest, but something in me only makes me grip the head harder, forcing myself to bear the almost painful pleasure. I do the same to my other nipple, allowing myself to feel all the intense prickles and sharp tingles from the water in their entirety.

But soon and sure enough, my nipples become too sore to continue to take the incessant beating of the shower head, so I lower it down my body once again, finally placing it between my thighs.

The powerful stream hits my pussy with an unexpected blast, and the concentrated water pressure is almost too much to handle, sending an immediate, heady rush of tingles and shivers all over my body despite all the heat surrounding me. My knees buckle like flimsy straws and my entire body tenses from the contact. The showerhead almost slips and falls from my grasp, but I brace myself against the shower bar just in time, managing to hold onto the head’s handle despite my momentary disorientation.

After a few deep breaths, I tentatively move the head slightly, concentrating it on my clit, and the delicious, almost painful pressure hits right against the concentrated bundle of nerves, bombarding it incessantly with wet heat and eliciting all sorts of ticklish and tingly sensations from within it. They quickly become more and more overwhelming, forcing pleasured moans and whimpers from deep within my throat.

Out of the blue, I picture Frost’s hands; his long, strong, and sure hands brushing against my skin, remembering the way his masculine fingers felt when he touched me, and immediately, my memory transcends the present and I imagine that it’s him touching me down there instead of the sturdy stream of water, rubbing and circling against my pussy and clit incessantly.

I feel myself climbing, higher and higher with each passing second, the pressure building too fast, the need for release becoming too strong and overbearing.

My entire upper body arches into itself in anticipation for what I know is coming. My abs tense to the point of pain as my body hunches over, preparing itself for its impending explosion. I can just tell its going to be an earth-shattering release, and I can practically taste it on my tongue.

My eyes are shut tight and yet I can see stars from behind them, a blurry mesh of twinkles mingled with darkness. My lungs start to work overtime as I inhale and exhale humid air on shallow, quick breaths, and soon even that’s not enough, as my mouth tries to assist on impulse, making me pant something furious.

It’s here.

I’m coming…

I’m com—

Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep…

Everything comes to a halt as the generic sound of my alarm clock breaks through the night, the unforeseen distraction quickly bringing me out of my fantasy and back to reality, my orgasm retreating even faster than it came.

The alarm continues to beep for a whole minute, and with a grimace and immense disappointment, I stare at it in the distance, barely able to see the 12:00 AM digits blinking on its display behind my foggy glasses.

And just like that…Doomsday is here.

***