I was balls deep in this hot little blond, her legs hooked over my shoulders, her tits bouncing every time I drove into her, her mouth slack and her eyes closed like she was a million miles away. And here’s the God’s honest truth — I’ve fucked more women in this dental chair than I’ve filled cavities. Every single one of them walked in knowing exactly what they were signing up for. Every single one of them thanked me for it afterward.
The array of women I had in this chair ran the gamut. Everyone from soccer moms to business executives, college girls, athletes, and nerds alike. It was a buffet of pussy in and out of my office. Take today, for example.
Chrystal Candy02. Twenty-something TikTok influencer, all pouty lips and big hazel eyes and the kind of ass that’d make a monk renounce his vows. She’d found my listing six weeks ago on a private subreddit that’d make your grandmother faint — the kind of forum where “medical roleplay” was the most popular tag and my waiting list ran three months deep. She’d filled out the questionnaire. Checked every box. Signed every waiver. Three pages of hard limits, soft limits, and a section at the bottom for “additional fantasies” where she’d written, in pink glitter pen like a goddamn middle schooler, I want to be completely at your mercy. I want to be used like a fuck toy while I’m “under.” Please. And I want you to be mean about it.
That last part had been underlined twice.
I called her two days after her application came through. She’d answered on the first ring, breathless, like she’d been staring at her phone waiting.
“Chrystal? This is Dr. Voss. I’ve reviewed your application. I’d like to schedule a consultation.”
The silence on the other end had been electric. Then: “Oh my god. Oh my god, okay. Yes. When?”
The morning of her appointment, she’d shown up early. Margot — my sixty-three-year-old receptionist who thought I was just very popular with the influencer crowd — signed her in and handed her a clipboard with the standard medical history form. Chrystal filled it out with trembling hands, crossing and uncrossing her legs in the waiting room chair. Loose skirt. No panties. Exactly per the pre-appointment instructions. The rough upholstery against her bare cunt had been driving her slowly insane for fifteen minutes, and when Kaley finally called her name from the doorway, she nearly launched out of the chair.
Oh thank fuck. If I sit here any longer I’m going to leave a wet spot on this chair and Margot is going to see it and oh god Kaley’s hot, everyone here is hot, I’m going to get railed by a dentist, this is the best day of my life—
Kaley. My assistant, my right hand, my partner in every sense that mattered. Shoulder-length dark hair she always wore in a low ponytail. Swimmer’s body — broad shoulders, narrow hips, the kind of lean muscle that came from actual athleticism and not some influencer’s booty band workout. She had 34b tits that sat high on her ribcage and a mouth that could make a woman forget her own name. Today she was wearing pink scrubs that were fitted just a little too well, the v-neck showing a sliver of her collarbone, and a smile that was one part medical professional and three parts I know exactly why you’re here, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
“Chrystal? We’re ready for you.”
The exam room was the same as all the others — dental chair, tray of instruments, the faint smell of fluoride and isopropyl alcohol. The blinds were drawn, slicing the afternoon sunlight into thin golden stripes across the floor. The walls were reinforced — double-layer drywall packed with acoustic foam, the kind of soundproofing that’d let you fire a gun in here without Margot looking up from her solitaire. We’d had it done after our third session, when a college volleyball player had screamed so loud during her third orgasm that the patient in Room 2 asked if we offered nitrous for anxiety or just for fun. A camera was mounted in the corner, a discreet black dome with a red light that wasn’t blinking yet. Beside it, mounted on a retractable arm attached to the ceiling, was a thirty-two-inch monitor — the kind of screen you’d use to show patients their X-rays. We used it for something else entirely.
Chrystal’s eyes found the camera first, then the monitor. “That’s—”
“For reviewing footage,” I said smoothly, gesturing for her to sit. “You checked ‘yes’ on the recording consent form. But you can change your mind at any point. The camera doesn’t turn on until I say so.”
Chrystal took a shaky breath. “No. I want it on. I want to see everything after. On the big screen.”
Kaley grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
She’s going to be fun. The ones who eye the monitor before the chair are always fun.
I pulled up my stool, close enough that our knees almost touched. Chrystal’s legs were pressed together tight, her fingers knotted in her lap, but her pupils were dilated and the flush crawling up her neck had nothing to do with the room temperature.
“Verbal confirmation.” I held up her application. The pink glitter pen caught the fluorescent light. “I’m going to read your preferences aloud. You stop me if anything’s changed. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Scenario: routine dental exam with sedation roleplay. You’ll be conscious the entire time, but acting like you’re under. The nitrous is placebo — oxygen with a mild herbal relaxant. Nothing that impairs cognition, memory, or your ability to speak. At any point, you can break character. At any point, you can stop everything. Safe word is—”
“Molar,” she said, a little too fast. “I read the email.”
“Good girl. Safe gesture is three taps on the armrest.” I demonstrated. Tap. Tap. Tap. “You do that, and this scene ends. No questions. No hard feelings. No impact on future appointments, if you want them.”
Kaley leaned against the counter, arms crossed under her tits. “We also do a mid-scene check-in. I’ll squeeze your hand twice. You squeeze back twice to keep going, once to pause. No pressure. No judgment.”
“I got it.” Chrystal’s voice was steadier now. The ritual was working — every boundary drawn, every instruction given, winding the tension tighter. She wasn’t less aroused. She was more. Because safety meant she could sink into the filth without looking over her shoulder.
“One more thing.” I tapped the bottom of her application. “You wrote here that degradation is a turn-on. Words like ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ ‘fuck toy.’ You also underlined ‘be mean about it’ twice. That still accurate?”
Her breath caught. “Yes.”
“You understand the difference between in-scene degradation and actual disrespect?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because in this room, you are not actually a whore. You are a client. A very valued client who happens to enjoy being called a needy little cumdump while she gets her brains fucked out. Understood?”
Chrystal’s thighs pressed together so hard I could hear the soft shff of skin on skin, and a fresh glisten of wetness slicked her inner thigh, catching the light. “Yes, Dr. Voss.”
Jesus Christ, he’s good at this. I’m soaked already and he’s still fully clothed. This girl’s going to need a mop.
I reached for the mask. “Then let’s begin. Kaley, start the camera.”
The nitrous mask settled over Chrystal’s nose and mouth, and I watched her face change. The tension in her jaw softened. Her shoulders dropped. Her hands, which had been white-knuckling the armrests, relaxed. The herbal blend wasn’t psychoactive, but it was calming — just enough to take the edge off the performance anxiety.
“Close your eyes,” Kaley murmured, her voice dropping into something lower, silkier. “Let your body go limp. You’re in character now. You’re under. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t open your eyes. But you can feel everything. Every touch. Every taste. Every inch. Every filthy thing we’re going to do to this pretty little body of yours.”
Chrystal’s eyes fluttered closed. Her breathing slowed. Her lips parted slightly, and a thin line of drool glistened at the corner of her mouth. Her hands went slack on the armrests.
Okay. Okay okay okay. I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. Fuck, I can already feel how wet I am. Can they smell it? I hope they can smell it. I hope the camera can see it. I hope—
I let the silence hang for a moment — the soft hiss of the oxygen, the hum of the camera, the distant murmur of Margot answering the phone out front — and then I reached for Chrystal’s blouse. Thin white cotton. Pearl buttons.
“Patient is fully sedated,” I said, my voice low and clinical for the recording. “Beginning exam. Let’s see what this little slut walked in with.”
The first button slipped free. Then the second. Then the third, fourth, the blouse falling open to reveal a pink lace bra that was aggressively impractical — the kind of thing you wear when you’re expecting someone to see it, when you’ve been planning this moment for six weeks and wanted to look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Her tits were small, probably a 32b, but they sat high and round, the lace straining slightly across nipples that were already visibly peaked underneath.
Kaley appeared at my elbow, pulling on latex gloves with a crisp snap. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? Nice tits. Perky. You think she wore this bra for us, Dr. Voss?”
“No doubt in my mind. Probably stood in front of her mirror for an hour picking it out, hoping we’d appreciate the effort.” I traced a finger along the lace edge, just above her nipple, and Chrystal’s breath hitched — a tiny, involuntary gasp that she tried to swallow. “How thoughtful of her. Almost makes you want to be gentle.” I unhooked the bra with a single practiced motion, the straps sliding down her shoulders, her tits spilling free. Her nipples were a dusky pink, tight and pebbled, and I pinched one between my thumb and forefinger — lightly, then harder, watching her jaw clench around the mask. “Almost.”
Kaley laughed, low and dirty. “What’s the point of gentle when she asked for mean?”
“Exactly. Let’s see if she followed the other instructions.” I pushed Chrystal’s skirt up her thighs, the fabric bunching at her hips. No panties. Just the smooth, waxed curve of her cunt, the lips already pink and puffy, a glisten of wetness smeared across her inner thighs and catching the fluorescent light like fresh glaze on a pastry. The scent of her arousal hit me then — sharp and sweet, musky underneath, the kind of smell that made your mouth water whether you wanted it to or not.
“There’s a good patient,” Kaley breathed, leaning in to get a closer look. “Cunt out, ready for inspection. No panties, just like the instructions said. She’s practically dripping on the chair. You think she’d be this wet if she was really under?”
“Some bodies respond to stimulus automatically. Arousal isn’t consciousness.” I ran a gloved finger along her slit, just the barest pressure, parting her lips without pushing inside, and Chrystal let out a shuddering breath that fogged the inside of the mask. Her hips twitched — a tiny, aborted thrust against my hand — and she almost broke character right there. I could see her fighting it, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, the cords in her neck standing out. “See? Involuntary responses. Completely normal in sedated patients.”
Kaley grinned, her face inches from Chrystal’s cunt, close enough that her breath misted across the wetness. “Let’s see how involuntary it gets.”
“Eat her pussy, Kaley.”
She looked up at me, her dark eyes glittering above the surgical mask she’d pulled down around her chin. “Doctor’s orders?”
“Eat that fucking cunt,” I said, my voice dropping into something rougher. “She came in here with it waxed and wet and out on display. Don’t make it wait any longer.”
Kaley didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled up a second stool, positioned herself between Chrystal’s legs, and dove in like a woman who’d been fasting for a week. Her tongue parted Chrystal’s cunt in one long, slow, obscene lick — from the bottom of her slit, gathering every drop of wetness, all the way up to the hood of her clit, flicking it once, twice, before sealing her mouth around it and sucking hard.
“Mmmnnnfff—” The sound Chrystal made was strangled, animal, muffled by the mask. Her whole body jerked against the chair, her back arching, her hands gripping the armrests so hard her knuckles went white. A fat glob of drool slid from the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin and dripping onto the paper bib we’d laid across her chest as a joke.
I reached down and gave her hand two quick squeezes.
Two squeezes back. Hard. Desperate. Keep going, keep going, oh fuck keep going.
“She’s doing so well,” I murmured, my voice calm and clinical for the recording even as I palmed myself through my trousers. “Look at that. Completely sedated, and her body’s still responding. That’s a healthy autonomic nervous system if I’ve ever seen one. What do you think, Kaley — is her clit responsive?”
Kaley pulled her mouth off Chrystal’s cunt with a wet pop, her lips and chin glistening, a strand of slick connecting her bottom lip to Chrystal’s swollen clit. “Responsive isn’t the word, Dr. Voss. It’s practically throbbing. Want to see?” Without waiting for an answer, she hooked two fingers into Chrystal and pulled her open — spreading her cunt wide for the camera, exposing the pink, puffy inner flesh, the tight clench of her entrance, the way she was dripping all over the dental chair in a little puddle that was spreading under her ass.
“Beautiful. Keep going. Make her come on that tongue. I want her nice and loose before I get my cock in there.”
“Yes, doctor.” Kaley said the last word like it was dirty, and then she lowered her head again, and this time she didn’t ease in at all. She buried her tongue inside Chrystal’s cunt — all the way, as deep as it could go, her nose pressed against Chrystal’s clit — and began to fuck her with it. In and out. Wet, squelching, obscene sounds filling the exam room like someone had dropped a jar of lube on the floor. Her gloved fingers curled inside alongside her tongue, three of them now, working in and out, finding the rough spot on her front wall and pressing.
“Ah! Ah! Ffff—” Chrystal’s head thrashed side to side, her ponytail coming undone, blonde hair plastering itself to her sweat-slicked forehead. The mask was crooked now, half-off, and she didn’t bother fixing it. Her hips were bucking into Kaley’s face, grinding against her tongue, fucking herself on Kaley’s fingers with a rhythm that was pure instinct. “Nnngh, fuh—”
“Shhh.” I stroked her hair back from her forehead, almost tender. “Stay in character. You’re doing so well. Just let it happen. Be a good little fuck toy and let Kaley’s tongue do the work.”
He called me a fuck toy. He called me a fuck toy and I’m about to come on his assistant’s face and this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m booking this appointment every week. Every goddamn week.
“She’s close,” Kaley grunted, not lifting her mouth. “I can feel her fluttering. Clenching hard around my fingers. You want to watch her come, Dr. Voss?”
“Make her come. Right now. On camera. I want to see this whore lose control.”
Kaley sealed her mouth over Chrystal’s clit and sucked — hard, relentless, the kind of suction that bordered on painful — and her fingers drove in deep, curling and stroking, and Chrystal’s whole body locked up like she’d been tased. Her mouth opened around the mask, a silent scream that lasted three full seconds before the sound caught up — a raw, guttural “AAAAAAHHH-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK—” that ripped out of her throat, loud enough to rattle the tray of instruments. But the walls drank it down, swallowed every decibel of that scream, and somewhere beyond the double-layer drywall and acoustic foam, Margot was probably humming along to the waiting room Muzak and scheduling a cleaning for Thursday at two. Chrystal didn’t have to hold back — didn’t even have to think about holding back — and that was the point. The room was built for this. She could be as loud as she needed to be. Her cunt spasmed around Kaley’s fingers, gushing slick, soaking Kaley’s chin, her scrubs, the dental chair, everything. Her thighs clamped around Kaley’s head, and her heels drummed against the chair, and she came and came and came until she collapsed, boneless, chest heaving, eyes glazed.
The room went quiet except for the camera’s low whir and Chrystal’s ragged breathing.
Kaley pulled back slowly, her face absolutely wrecked — mascara smeared under her eyes from the heat, her lips swollen and pink, her chin dripping. She wiped her mouth with the back of her glove and looked up at me with a grin that was pure, dirty triumph.
“Patient wetness sample collected, doctor.”
I snorted. “You’re a menace.”
“You pay me to be.”
I’d do this job for free. Don’t tell him that. Actually, do tell him that. Later. After I’ve gotten off.
Chrystal lay there, panting, the mask hanging off one ear, her legs still splayed open, her cunt a swollen, glistening mess. She’d shattered character completely, and she didn’t seem to give a single shit.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, but she was laughing — breathless, giddy laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep. “I’m sorry, I broke, I couldn’t — “
“You came,” I corrected, squeezing her knee. “You came so hard you forgot to act. That’s not breaking character. That’s the character working exactly like it’s supposed to. You want to keep going?”
Her eyes dropped to my trousers, to the erection straining against the zipper, to the damp spot where my pre-cum was already soaking through. “Yes. Fuck yes. I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I want you to cum inside me. I want Kaley to watch. I want the camera to get everything.”
“That’s my girl.” I stood, unzipping. “Kaley, you’ve earned a show. Go grab your toy.”
Kaley didn’t need to be told twice. She crossed to the cabinet — the locked one, the one Margot was never allowed to open — and pulled out a sleek little bullet vibe, hot pink, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She shoved her scrubs down to her thighs, kicked them the rest of the way off, and settled into the corner chair with her legs spread wide, the bullet already humming against her clit. Her cunt was a neat, trimmed strip of dark hair, her lips already puffy and slick from how worked up she’d gotten eating Chrystal out. The buzz of the toy filled the room, a low, insistent background noise that harmonized with the camera’s whir.
“Don’t mind me,” she breathed, the bullet making small circles on her clit, her hips already rolling. “I’m just here for documentation purposes.”
Fuck, his cock is beautiful. Thick. Veiny. She’s going to take every inch and I’m going to watch every second of it. Best job in the world.
I positioned myself between Chrystal’s legs, my cock in my hand, the head slick with my own pre-cum. I dragged it through her folds — once, twice — parting those swollen lips, bumping against her clit just to see her twitch, then notched at her entrance. She was soaked. Gaping slightly from Kaley’s fingers. Ready.
“You’re going to take every inch,” I told her, my voice low, the clinical tone slipping into something rougher. “You’re going to lie there and take it like the helpless little fuck toy you are. And when I’m done, you’re going to thank me for filling you up. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, Dr. Voss. Please. I want it.”
I pushed.
The first inch was a slick, tight surrender — not as tight as she’d been before her orgasm, but still a perfect, wet grip that made my balls tighten. I could feel every ridge inside her, every clench of her walls adjusting to my girth. She was hot — fever-hot inside, the kind of heat that made your brain go stupid — and the sound she made when I bottomed out was a guttural, punched-out “HNNNNGH—” that vibrated through her whole body.
“There,” I grunted, my hips flush against hers, my cock buried to the root. “Right fucking there. Look at you, stretched around me like a goddamn glove. Kaley, you getting this?”
“Getting every frame,” Kaley moaned from her corner, the bullet buzzing faster against her clit, her free hand working her own cunt with two fingers. “Fuck, she’s taking it so well. That’s a beautiful shot — your cock inside her, her legs over your shoulders, her tits bouncing — don’t you dare stop.”
I didn’t. I fucked her hard. The kind of hard that made the dental chair creak, that made the tray of instruments rattle, that made Chrystal’s head snap back and forth with every thrust. Her mask was long gone, her mouth open in a continuous stream of “Ah! Ah! Ah!” that matched my rhythm. Her tits bounced with every stroke, small and perfect, her nipples hard enough to cut glass. I reached down and pinched one — hard, twisting — and she screamed, a sharp, bright sound that the soundproofed walls swallowed whole, and then she dissolved into a moan when I leaned down and sucked it into my mouth.
“You like that, you little whore?” I growled against her skin. “You like getting your tits played with while my cock’s splitting you open?”
“Yesyesyes—”
“Say it. Say you’re a whore. Say it for the camera.”
“I’m a whore!” she sobbed, her hips bucking up to meet my thrusts. “I’m your whore, I’m your slut, I’m your fuck toy, I’m your — NNNNGHH — your cumdump, fill me up, please, PLEA—”
I drove in deep, cutting her off, and gestured at Kaley. “Get up here. I want photos.”
Kaley pulled the bullet away from her clit with a reluctant whine and stood on shaky legs, grabbing her phone from the counter. She positioned herself at the head of the chair, angling down, capturing the full tableau: Chrystal spread-eagled under me, my cock buried in her wrecked cunt, the aftermath of her first orgasm still glistening on the chair, her face a blotchy mess of drool and sweat and mascara.
But I wasn’t done.
“Open her mouth,” I told Kaley.
Kaley reached down with her free hand and hooked a thumb into the corner of Chrystal’s mouth, pulling it open. Chrystal’s tongue lolled out, pink and wet, her eyes rolled back, the picture of mindless submission.
I pulled out of her cunt with a slick, obscene schlup — my cock glistening with her juices, a thick strand of wetness connecting the head to her swollen lips — and moved up the chair. Positioned myself above her face. Slid my cock past her open lips, onto her tongue, into the wet heat of her mouth.
“Selfie time,” Kaley breathed, and the camera flashed.
One shot: my cock on Chrystal’s tongue, her eyes closed, her expression ecstatic.
Another shot: Kaley leaning into frame, lips pursed in a mock-kiss inches from Chrystal’s cheek, the bullet vibe still buzzing in her other hand.
Another: me, looking directly into the lens, my expression calm and clinical and utterly in control, while Chrystal gagged softly on my cock under me. Kaley had positioned the phone to get all three of us in frame — the dentist, the assistant, the “patient” — a filthy family portrait captured in the harsh fluorescent light.
“These are going in the portfolio,” Kaley murmured, scrolling through the shots with one hand while the other worked the vibe back between her legs. “Fuck, she’s photogenic. Even with a cock in her mouth.”
“Pull it up on the monitor,” I grunted, pulling out of Chrystal’s mouth. A strand of saliva connected us, stretching, breaking. “Let her see.”
Kaley crossed to the monitor mounted on the ceiling arm, tapped her phone screen a few times, and suddenly the thirty-two-inch display flickered to life. The photos appeared — each one larger than life, filling the screen, every detail rendered in brutal HD clarity. There was Chrystal’s ruined mascara. There was my cock, veined and slick, resting on her bottom lip. There was Kaley’s grin, wolfish and proud. There was Chrystal’s cunt, still gaping slightly, still leaking on the chair.
Chrystal stared up at the screen, her chest heaving, her eyes wide. “Oh my god.”
“Look at yourself,” I told her, positioning myself between her legs again. “Look at what a pretty little whore you make. See how good you look with my cock inside you. See how much you’re dripping for it.”
On the monitor: the first photo of my cock splitting her cunt open. Enormous. Unmissable. Pornographic. And below it, in real life, I pushed back inside her, and Chrystal watched herself get fucked on the big screen while Kaley’s vibe buzzed and the camera whirred and somewhere beyond the soundproof walls, Margot was probably scheduling someone’s actual root canal.
“Cockdrunk little slut,” I said, snapping my hips hard, making the chair creak. “Look at yourself taking it. You love this, don’t you? You love being nothing but a set of holes for me to use.”
“Hhh-yesss—”
“Can’t even speak anymore. Fucked you stupid already, and I’m not even close to done. Kaley, you ever seen a whore this desperate for cum?”
“Not since last Tuesday,” Kaley said, her voice strained — she was close, the vibe pressed hard against her clit, her eyes fixed on the monitor. “But Chrystal might be my new favorite. She’s so fucking wet. Listen to it — shluck, shluck, shluck — that’s the sound of a woman who was born to be fucked.”
He’s going to come soon. I can tell by his breathing. I want to see her face when he fills her up. I want to photograph that exact moment. Frame it. Hang it in the goddamn Louvre.
“Where do you want it, Chrystal?” I was close now, my rhythm getting sloppy, my balls drawn up tight. “You want me to pull out? Come on your tits? Your face? Maybe paint that pretty little monitor screen while you watch yourself get degraded?”
“Inside,” she gasped, her eyes still locked on the screen, watching her own body take my cock again and again in high definition. “Inside, inside, please, I want to feel it, I want it dripping out of me all day, please—”
“Say please again.”
“Please, please, pleasepleaseplease—”
Three more thrusts, and I buried myself to the root and let go. My cock pulsed inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her cunt, filling her, and Chrystal threw her head back and screamed — not a cry of pain, not a whimper, but a feral, triumphant wail of “YEEEEEESSSSS — FILL ME UP, FILL YOUR SLUT UP—” that the soundproofed walls caught and smothered, keeping it ours, keeping it sacred. Her own second orgasm crashed into mine, her cunt milking my cock for every last drop, our fluids mixing and leaking out around my shaft and onto the dental chair in a mess that’d take industrial-grade disinfectant to fully erase.
Kaley got the shot. A burst of photos: my face, clenched with release. Chrystal’s face, pure ecstasy. The exact moment I pulled out, my softening cock emerging from her ruined cunt, a thick white flood of cum following it, spilling down her ass, pooling on the chair. Every frame appeared on the monitor seconds later, larger than life, a slideshow of her own debasement in 4K.
Kaley came with a choked cry, her vibe pressed so hard against her clit it had to hurt, her own release gushing down her thighs and onto the floor. She slumped against the wall, chest heaving, phone still clutched in her trembling hand.
That. That right there. That’s the one. That’s going on the private gallery. Fuck, I need a raise.
The aftercare was the same as always, except this time, the monitor stayed on.
Kaley brought over a warm, damp cloth and began wiping Chrystal’s thighs, her belly, her cunt — gentle, methodical strokes that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with reverence. I helped Chrystal sit up, steadying her when she swayed, letting her lean against my chest while her breathing slowed. A cup of chamomile tea appeared at her elbow.
But Chrystal’s eyes never left the screen. The slideshow was still cycling through — her cunt before, her cunt after, the cumshot, the aftermath, her own blissed-out face frozen in high definition above the dental chair.
“You did beautifully,” I told her, my arm around her damp shoulders. “How do you feel?”
She took a shaky sip of tea, still staring at the monitor where a photo of my cum dripping out of her was displayed in thirty-two inches of brutal clarity. “Like I just got fucked into another dimension.”
“That’s the goal.”
Kaley flopped into the chair beside us, still half-naked, her scrubs in a puddle on the floor, her thighs glistening. She was scrolling through her phone. “You want the photos sent to your encrypted folder, or should we go through them now on the big screen?”
Chrystal’s eyes lit up. “Review now. Definitely review now. And send them. I want my boyfriend to see. He’s going to lose his fucking mind.”
The three of us sat there in the exam room — the dental chair still a crime scene, the monitor cycling through filth, the smell of sweat and sex and chamomile tea hanging in the air — and scrolled through the photos like vacation pictures. Chrystal picked her favorites. Made Kaley zoom in on a few. Texted the best ones to her boyfriend.
His reply came in under thirty seconds: three fire emojis, a prayer hands, and a voice memo which Chrystal played on speaker. “You actually did it, you absolute degenerate. I love you. Book me a session. Right now.”
“Oh my god,” Chrystal said, looking up at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “He wants to know if you do couples sessions.”
“We do,” I said.
“I’m booking one. Can I book one right now?”
“Margot handles scheduling,” Kaley said, deadpan, gesturing vaguely toward the door. “She’s out front. She thinks we just did a root canal. Tell her you need a follow-up.”
Chrystal burst out laughing — bright, genuine, the same laugh she’d probably used in a hundred TikToks — and I poured her another cup of tea, and on the monitor, the slideshow cycled to a shot of all three of us in frame: me, clinical and composed; Kaley, phone in one hand and vibe in the other, grinning like a devil; Chrystal, her mouth full of my cock, her eyes rolled back, the portrait of a woman who’d gotten exactly what she came for.
Outside the reinforced walls, the fish tank bubbled serenely. Margot answered a call about dental insurance. The afternoon sun crept an inch further across the floor, and no one in the waiting room had heard a goddamn thing.
Chrystal booked her follow-up before she left the parking lot. And a couples session for the following weekend. And when she posted a new TikTok — just her face, glowing, holding a lollipop the size of her head, caption reading “Got my teeth cleaned and I’ve never felt better 💅😌” — the private subreddit got flooded.
Every new application that week came with a note: “Chrystal said you were life-changing.”
One of them was from her boyfriend. Handle: CandyCoupleOfficial. Preferences: “Everything she got, times two.”
I circled the appointment on my calendar in red ink.
