Lida Lawrence is happily married to her high school sweetheart. There’s just one problem. After twenty years and three children with her husband, the 36 year old isn’t enjoying sex much anymore. But she loves her husband and doesn’t want to hurt him.
Enter Dr. Dave McKenna. He has a highly unorthodox method of treating sexual dysfunction, but he also comes highly recommended. Before he’ll treat her, though, he insists she sign a Confidentiality Agreement. Just what is so secret about his methods? And do they really work?
Be Warned: anal sex, medical play, BDSM, sex toys
“You have to understand my methods are unorthodox, invasive, quick, and generally successful. Once we start, there will be no stopping. You will not be allowed to back out once we begin. Are you prepared to make that kind of commitment, Mrs. Lawrence?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to save my marriage, Doctor.”
He took a piece of paper out of his desk, pushed it toward her, and placed a pen on top. “Read this carefully before you sign, Mrs. Lawrence. It’s a confidentiality agreement and an agreement to undergo treatment. It is also a release. You acknowledge that you have agreed to undergo whatever treatment I see fit and no matter what you may think of my methods, you may never discuss them with anyone else, ever. Do you understand, Mrs. Lawrence?”
“Are you sure you can help me, Dr. McKenna?”
“I am, Mrs. Lawrence.”
“Where do I sign?”
* * * *
Dave McKenna felt a very unprofessional surge of lust as Lida Lawrence signed the release without reading it. He shrugged mentally. He’d told her to read it. She’d chosen not to. Just as well. If she’d read the details, she might not have agreed to the treatment.
He smiled. He was a doctor, but he was also a man. Lida Lawrence was a beautiful woman. He was going to enjoy treating her. He wondered if she would enjoy receiving his treatment as much as he would enjoy performing it.
He took the release and checked that she’d signed and initialed in all the right places. Then he put it in her file.
“I’ll make a copy and email it to you, Mrs. Lawrence. And now, if you’ll step into my exam room. Please disrobe completely. You’ll find a gown hanging behind the door. Please put it on so it opens in the back. Then settle yourself on the exam table, feet in the stirrups, and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
“Already? I mean, I thought you’d ask me to make another appointment. Come back or something.”
“Is that what you want? I can do the exam now and, depending on the results, you can likely begin treatment immediately.”
“Immediately?”
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