I had been having serious trouble with premature ejaculation, and
my sex life with my wife had come to a complete stand still. Each time
we began to make love, an irresistible urge to let go would seize me,
and I would spill my essence on her threshold, leaving her wet, sticky
and frustrated.

We tried every remedy we could think of: creams, pills,
constriction devices; but nothing seemed to help. Finally, my wife
heard of a sex therapist who specialized in treating men with my problem
and made an appointment for me. I balked when I learned that the
therapist was a woman, being embarrassed to reveal such an intimately
male problem to a female. But my wife insisted, explaining that the
doctor was very famous and known for using the most advanced methods.
Being desperate to try anything, I finally agreed to see her.

On the day of my appointment, I entered the spacious, modern office
and announced myself to an attractive young woman seated at the
receptionist’s desk. She smiled and said, “Go right in, Mr. Mason, Dr.
Wilson is waiting for you.”

I’m not sure what I expected to see as I stepped into the doctor’s
private office. Probably a mousey middle-aged woman dressed in the
usual cool-white uniform of the medical professional. I surely wasn’t
prepared for the incredible sight I encountered. Instead of the mousey
doctor was a devastatingly beautiful Amazon. She was wearing a black
leather garment that covered her hips and waist like a long corset,
hugging them tightly. The corset made no attempt to hide her
spectacularly large breasts, which hung proudly bare. A leather strap
rose from the front of the corset, running up the deep cleavage between
her breasts and spreading them slightly apart, until it joined a band
encircling her neck. Her feet were shod in black leather boots which
rose from her toes nearly to the top of her thigh. And to complete the
extraordinary attire, her hands and forearms were encased in elbow
length patent gloves, also of black. As she sat there on a low rattan
couch, her knees wide apart in a masculine posture, her commanding
presence was overwhelming.

I was speechless with confusion, and so excited by the vision
before me that I completely lost control of myself. Before I knew what
was happening, I had ejaculated in my pants. From my spastic jerks and
the telltale growing wet spot in my crotch, she had no problem
concluding what had happened. She shook her head sadly, “Well, Peter,
your wife was not exaggerating. You obviously have quite a problem
controlling your emissions.”

I stammered, “I… I… wasn’t expecting to see…”

“To see me dressed this way? No, I suppose not. Yet I have found
this attire useful in treating difficult cases such as yours. As you
will see, it helps establish the proper psychological atmosphere. But
now it is time for your treatment. Begin, please, by removing your
trousers and underwear.”

I shyly complied, blushing as I stood before her naked from the
waist down. To my added embarrassment, my penis still oozed small drops
of semen from its involuntary ejaculation. She walked over and, taking
my genital organs in her hands, began examining them. “Hmm…I see
nothing physically wrong with your organs. As I suspected, your problem
is entirely psychological. Quite simply in layman’s language, you lack
the willpower necessary to control you emissions. But there is hope for
you, Peter. I shall help you gain the necessary self-discipline. Let
us begin with the orgasm which you just experienced.”

With one hand, she took my limp penis in a snugly comforting grip
and lifted it gently away from my male sacks. She smiled mysteriously
at me for a moment, then without warning brought her other hand up
suddenly, slapping my defenseless testicles hard with her leather-
encased palm. I shrieked and collapsed to the floor in misery. “You
must learn, Peter, not to ejaculate without first obtaining permission.
Otherwise, there will be severe punishment. Now get up and stop acting
like a baby. We will begin your exercises.”

She led me to a small dining table and made me drink in quick
succession several large glasses of ice tea. The liquids passed rapidly
through my system, and soon I began shifting uncomfortably with the need
to relieve my bladder. “Please, Doctor Wilson, I’d like to go to the
rest room now. May I?”

She smiled cruelly, “No Peter, you may not. This is an exercise to
teach you to hold your water. Medically speaking, urinary continence is
little different from ejaculatory control, and the self-restraint you
learn here will apply to your sexual problem.”

As the pressure in my bladder grew, I begged and pleaded with her.
Finally she seemed to relent, and handed me a small wide-mouthed bottle.
“Very well, you may release your water into this specimen bottle. But
be very careful not to spill any urine on my carpet.”

Refusing my pleas for privacy, she watched as I inserted my penis
into the bottle and loosed a flooding stream. Although it was
humiliating to perform this bodily function in front of her, all other
concerns were swept away in the heavenly sense of relief. But as the
warm yellow liquid rose toward the top, I suddenly realized that the
small bottle could not possibly hold all of my offering. Anxiously I
said, “Uh, I’m not done. May I have another bottle?”

She shook her head, “No, that is enough for now Peter. I want you
to retain the rest of your fluid.”

With the urine nearly overflowing the bottle, I cried in panic,
“Please, Doctor, don’t make me stop in the middle. It hurts to shut it
off!”

“Peter!” she said sternly. “Stop at once, I say. Don’t force me
to punish you again.” She raised her gloved palm toward my naked
genitals. I still felt a dull ache in my glands from earlier, so I
grimaced and cut off the flow. The agony of interrupted urination was
preferable to another such strike at the core of my manhood. “That’s
better. Now empty the bottle in the sink. In a few minutes, I will
allow you to discharge another portion of your water.”

Twice more she repeated the torment, until finally I was at ease.
“So far so good, Peter. Now we will begin to work on the sexual
fluids.” She seated herself comfortably on the couch. “Kneel down in
front of me and masturbate your penis.”

I was mortified by her order. “Please Doctor, I can’t. Not while
you watch. It’s too humiliating.”

“Stop wasting time. You’re eager enough to masturbate on your own.
Your wife has told me how often she catches you at it. Now do as I
say!”

It was strange, but the commanding tone of her voice and the
awesome spectacle of her Amazonian beauty left me powerless to disobey.
Kneeling submissively before her, I took my penis in my hands and began
to caress it. My head was level with her large bare breasts, and my
eyes were drawn to them, as she doubtless intended. I longed to suckle
at her prominent nipples and to bury my face between them, but I knew
better than to ask for such a favor. After a while, I began to feel a
curious excitement at performing in front of her. I wanted her to see
me commit this most shameful of all sexual acts, to witness my
humiliating surrender to the unnatural lust. But she did not long allow
me to savor the situation.

“Peter, don’t think that I am encouraging you to perform this
exhibition for your perverted enjoyment. This is an exercise to
increase your ability to control your ejaculatory urges. Therefore,
when you approach your orgasm, you will at my command remove your hands
from your organs and place them behind your back, suspending all further
stimulation. I know it will be hard, Peter, you will want very badly
to release your semen. But you must exercise self-discipline, for two
reasons. First, because it is important for your sexual adjustment and
the sake of your marriage. And second, if that does not persuade you,”
she smiled cruelly, “because if you ejaculate I shall spank you on the
testicles until you will wish that you had been castrated!”

I did not doubt her threat. She watched coolly as I continued
stroking my penis, observing the signs of mounting arousal as my orgasm
neared. With a skilled professional eye, she waited until I was just
seconds from climax and cried, “Stop!” Summoning my last shred of moral
courage, I relinquished the grip on my organs. She grinned as I kneeled
dutifully before her with my hands behind my back and my forsaken penis
bobbing forlornly in the air.

“Very good, Peter, very good indeed.” She extended her booted foot
and flicked my penis playfully with her toe. “For the first time, that
is. Again, please.”

I lost count of the number of times the cruel torture was repeated.
Again and again she watched me bring myself to the brink of release only
to jerk me back with her command. At last she ceased and motioned me to
stand before her.

“You have done well for your first treatment, Peter, and it is all
over, now. It wasn’t so very terrible, was it?” she said, smiling
kindly at me. Her eyes focussed on my penis, still bobbing very erectly
before me. “I see that there is some residual vascular tension in your
genitals. That is often a side effect of the treatment. I think you
would be more comfortable if we relieved the tension, don’t you?” As she
spoke, she took the tip of my erect member and began rolling it between
her fingers, holding it just inches from the deep cleavage of her
breasts.

I could hardly believe what she seemed to be offering. “Are you
going to… to…?”

“Masturbate you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, Peter, we
must not reinforce your childish dependence on that habit. I will
relieve your tension, but in a way more beneficial to your sexual
adjustment. Lie across my lap, now.”

“What… what are you going to do?”

“Well, your wife sent you to me because you’ve been a very naughty
boy. And we both know what happens to naughty boys, don’t we?” She laid
me over her lap, carefully placing my penis between her leather-clad
thighs. It was dripping with excitement and soon made a slippery home
for itself. I could feel the tips of her nude breasts tickling my back.
“Comfy? Now I’m going to paddle you, Peter. It will hurt at first, so
don’t be ashamed to cry and kick.”

She began spanking me hard with her hand, the leather glove making
a loud popping sound. Indeed, it did hurt, and I began to kick my bare
legs and beg her to stop. But in spite of the painful slaps, my penis
was rock hard, and with each blow it rubbed deliciously between her boot
tops.

I continued to cry and beg her to stop, but it must have been very
clear to her that this was the last thing I wanted. I was getting very
close to climax, and the slaps were as hard as ever, but now they felt
heavenly. I wanted nothing more than to lie forever on the lap of this
divine creature, prolonging the rapture of the spanking eternally. But
I could not hold back the course of nature for long, and at last I cried
out, “Oh Doctor, I’m going to… I can’t help…”

But she was fully aware of my state. “Yes, that’s right, Peter,
let go on my lap. Just let it come out when you feel like it.”

My penis quivered and began spurting its fluids between her legs.
She accelerated the slaps, timing them perfectly to each surge of my
ejaculation, which seemed almost endless. At last I ceased, and the
rain of blows became gentle pats on my perspiring backside. “There,
there. All done now,” she soothed.

She left me alone for a few minutes to dress and collect myself.
When she returned, she also was dressed, in her doctor’s whites. As she
walked me to the door, she asked, “When would you like your next
appointment? I recommend two corrective treatments per week.”

I asked, “Could… could we make it three? I think the extra
treatment would be very… good for me.”

She smiled knowingly. “All right. Three it is, then.”