The Indian Doctor

The Indian doctor’s second summons came during a business lunch with my boss at the Bangkok club rooms in the Montien Hotel of the Royal Phattaya Yacht Club. It came as somewhat of a surprise as it was more than a month after the last time I’d been at the doctor’s office. My boss was sponsoring me for membership in the club even though I had yet to buy so much as a row boat. Since that first time he took me on his own small yacht, he had been nothing but very proper with me—still embarrassed, I think, that his assumption that if I modeled, I must also turn tricks, was mistaken.

We were eating lunch when the Indian doctor stopped at our table. He and my boss greeted each other, and the doctor dropped a slip of paper with the identical summons written on it as the first one: “Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.” I palmed the paper as the two exchanged pleasantries. When the doctor had passed on, I asked if the Indian doctor who had just stopped by also was a yacht club member, and my boss leveled his eyes at me and said, “Yes, for some time. He is the one who sponsored me.”

There was something in the way he looked at me that made me remember that it was my boss who had suggested that I join the gym where the Indian doctor found me.

My next visit to the Indian doctor’s apartment was much like the first. The preliminary routine was identical. The difference was that there was a young, European man—quite handsome and well formed, with black curly hair, waiting for us in the office when we’d finished our refreshments. He was waiting in the same aspect as the doctor’s Thai servant had been placed in during my first regular visit—on all fours on the pad on the floor.

The Indian doctor bade me sit on the side of the padded table and watch him fuck the young man in that position, all the time saying I was the next one to be fucked like that. I found it quite arousing and, when it was my turn, having watched the doctor work the young man’s ass with that long cock of his, this preliminary scene made my own taking extra satisfying. While the Indian doctor fucked me, the young man watched—and I thought that arousing as well.

The following Saturday, this led me to make a request to the Thai general. I made sure he was in a good mood first by letting him beat me in straight sets at tennis.

“We will go to my office for refreshments now,” he said to me as we were toweling off at the side of the court. Playing tennis under the Bangkok sun was a real melter. We had to continually take in fluids, and the heat left us drenched in sweat. When I first played the general, I hadn’t brought enough shirts and shorts to play in and had wound up shirtless and with my shorts plastered to my pelvis and upper legs. The general later claimed that this was the reason both that he had lost the last set to me and that he had wanted to fuck me immediately after the match.

“Tell me, General, you only fuck me on Saturdays. Who do you fuck the other six days of the week—not counting your wife and your mistress?”

“Why do you ask?” he growled. He gave me a hard look.

“Because today I would like to watch you fuck him, whoever he is—but for you to save your cum for me. Fuck me just like you fuck him. I want to watch. But then fuck me the same way and give me your ejaculation. You beat me today. I need some entertainment to help me not be sad.” We had reached the stage where the general let an orderly fuck me when he was done. I felt more comfortable now to expand my arrangement with him.

He continued looking hard at me, and then he laughed. “I will give you that gift—on one condition.”

“What?”

“When I’ve cum inside you, he can too. I fuck Chumphon, but everyone else . . . he fucks.”

“Chumphon? One of your aides, Lieutenant Chumphon?”

“Yes.”

I looked over at Chumphon. He was tall for a Thai. And he was a handsome hunk. Only prime meat got to be an aide for a general. He also was the general’s doubles tennis partner, when that was required. And he was superb at the game. I should not have been surprised that the general was using him. He was not one of the orderlies who stood outside the general’s office while the general fucked me, though. Those were enlisted soldiers. Chumphon was an officer. But he was young and extremely fit.

All permutations of the fucking that afternoon were done military style: swift, vigorous, hard muscled, almost clinical, from behind, and bent over the general’s desk. And, with that, I added another regular dominant sex partner to my list—always in the threesome configuration—and my first young male sex partner.

* * * *

The timing was too close the third time I was summoned by the Indian doctor. There was a preschool open house that same night, again a Tuesday. That wasn’t scheduled to be over until 7:00 p.m., and didn’t, in fact, end for fifteen minutes past that. Bangkok traffic being Bangkok traffic, I didn’t get to the Indian doctor’s front door until after 8:00 p.m., more than an hour late.

This was the night I learned what punctuality meant to the Indian doctor. He was royally pissed when he opened his door to me.

“You are late.”

“I had a prior engagement that didn’t let out until—”

“I can see what special lesson we need to cover this evening. Down on your knees.”

This was where this session started departing from the routine. Instead of the Indian doctor sucking me off at the door, he grabbed the back of my head and held me in place while he face fucked me with the long cock of his, seeming to enjoy the gagging this caused me.

When he took me to the office, he strapped me, belly down, to the padded table and fucked me swiftly—and, for him, roughly. He dispensed with the prostate milking with his dragging cock ring that I had enjoyed so much the first two times, saying that both we did not have time for that and that I didn’t deserve it.

I also apparently didn’t deserve a refreshment break this evening. When he let me off the table, it wasn’t to go into the dining room. He pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed my wrists together. We were standing in front of a chair with arms on it, him behind me. He lifted my arms up behind my back, painfully, and slipped his thin body inside so that my arms were wrapped around his back, with my back wedged to his chest by his arms. He sat down in the middle of the chair, pulling me onto his lap as well, facing away from him. My hands were trapped between his back and the chair back.

Lifting me up with hands on my waist, he settled my channel on his cock and pulled my hips down until he was fully sheathed inside me. He forced my legs up over the arms on either side and cuffed them in restraints on either side. I now was sitting on his cock and fully bound there until or unless he freed me.

“This will be a lesson in control—for you to acknowledge that I have full control over you and that you will do exactly what I tell you to do.”

He picked up a shallow wooden box from the table next to the chair and opened it. It continued a series of sliver rods, each held in an indentation in a red velvet backing on either side of the case when it was opened. The rods were cased in graduated lengths and thicknesses.

“Do you know what these are?”

“No,” I answered.

“They are called sounding wands. Do you know where they go?”

“No.”

“Do you know what a urethra is?” When he asked that he encased my cock in his left hand and held it straight up.

“Oh, god, no, please don’t,” I whimpered.

“Ah, so you know what that is. This is the ultimate test of loyalty and trust . . . no, don’t writhe like that. You are not going anywhere, and once we start, you are going to want to hold quite still . . . trust me on that. In fact, we will continue until you do fully trust me and are fully mine to command. I will fully possess you in every one of your orifices, and you will pledge yourself to me before we are done here.”

“Oh, no, please . . .” I reflexively began to writhe again, but he forced the heel of his hand over my mouth and pinched my nose between two fingers, cutting off my air supply, as I couldn’t breathe through my mouth.

“I won’t let you breathe until you hold perfectly still,” he said.

I let him win that round immediately, and he reopened my nasal air passage.

“We begin,” he said, as he extracted a small wand from the case with one hand and held my cock upright with the other. I watched in horror and fascination, as he slowly twirled one end of the wand into my pass slit.

“You will want to hold very still. You will relinquish all power over your body to me.”

I moaned and tried to hold very still as, one after the other, the Indian doctor moved to ever longer and thicker wands, sinking them deeper and deeper into the urethra canal.

“You will want to come,” he said. “Please do so when the urge is upon you.”

Almost immediately I did come, my cum burbling up around the sides of an imbedded wand. Leaving the wand in place, he put one hand on my belly and the other on my throat, pulling my head back into the hollow of his neck.

“Oh, god,” I burst out. “Please, please, Doctor.” It came out as a wail.

“I believe we are beyond the stage of calling me doctor. We need a term that is more honest, that absorbs the lesson we are having here.”

He withdrew the wand and leaned forward, bringing my bound arms up so that my wrists were at the back of his neck and my torso was bowed out.

“What shall you call me. What do you think?”

“Honestly?” I asked in a weak voice. I hated him. Did I have the strength to let him know how much? “Satan . . . the devil,” I blurted out.

He laughed a low, throaty laugh that was worthy of a Satan. “I wasn’t thinking quite that honestly. And I see that all of the fight isn’t out of you yet.”

He reached into the case and pulled out a wand two sizes thicker and longer than the one he had extracted. He moved the tip to my piss slit.

“No, no, please,” I whimpered.

“You are still fighting me, denying me my true relationship to you.” He started to twirl the rod down into my cock slit. I was about to object—to plead to him—when it dawned on me what he wanted. I stifled my objections as the wand moved deep within my urethra channel.

“Thank you, Master,” I murmured.

“Ah, lesson learned, I do believe. That is my proper title from you, yes. Remember it, and when I call, you will come. You will drop whatever you are doing and come to me.” His hands went to my waist, and he began slowly raising and lowering me on his cock and continued until, first, I spouted off again around the embedded wand, and then he came as well.

From that moment forward, I realized that he owned me. He had, in fact, owned me from the initial contact in the gym sauna, but I had now come to recognize and accept it. Whatever he did to me—he was the one who unlocked me—he gave me the need to go out and find other men too. But when he wanted me, he sent a message telling me when my next “appointment” was. And I would be there.

I discovered, although rarely engaging in it any more, that what the Master did to me that day—sounding—if handled carefully, can be highly erotic and produce an extra high cum response and fast reload. Nothing made me shoot off as much at one time as that—or made a follow-up ass fuck with the one who sounded me more pleasurable. But that’s all about wanting to be completely controlled, a fetish that the Master instilled in me.

There came a time when rather than fearing and avoiding sounding, I sought it out. There were specialists for that in Bangkok, and there came a time when I went to them and sat on wizened old men’s cocks while they worked my shift passages with ever-thicker sounding rods until, with a flood of release, I ejaculated under their ministrations.

I especially liked it when I was sitting in the man’s lap, with him inside me, thick (or extra long) and hard, and holding me close and sounding me to ejaculation while whispering what he was going to do to me afterward—and then pushing me forward on my belly, in one melting case, trapping my arms behind me with a strong hand trapping my wrists together, and fucking me hard afterward. Even though I’d just spouted, I could build up and ejaculate quickly again then.

The Master did me the best that way. All the time he was doing it—using that singsong voice that mesmerized me and at the same time disgusted me that it was controlling me—I hated him. I hated who he was but loved what he was doing. And he wasn’t a hunk. His muscles were solid, and he had one of the longest cocks I’ve ever had. But he was twenty or more years older than I was and both he and his cock were tall and thin. Still, when you can feel unusual depth . . .

I couldn’t get the controlling aspect of that session out of my mind. I ruminated on it for a week and then one evening, when only the boss and I were still in the office, I came to his door.

“Do you still want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he answered. “But I said I wouldn’t. And I like to include bondage; it’s my fetish—like I did with you on the boat. And that was presumptuous of me. I had assumed you were experienced.”

“Will you tie me up and fuck me now? Will you completely control me?”

He looked at me for several seconds, his eyes drilling into me. I also saw lust there. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He opened the lower drawer of his desk, pulled out a contraption of black cuffs and leads and pads and placed it in the center of his desk. As he moved the stacks of papers from his desktop to a nearby chair, he said, “I have had these toys for a while. You won’t be the first. Will you let me—?”

“Yes.”

The first cuffs he put on me included a head harness and trapped my wrists against my face, next to my cheeks. He also fitted me with a mouth cage that held my mouth open wide. He slowly face fucked me when I only was wearing these. They kept at least my hands from getting into any action and made my mouth captive to taking his cock in it. He pushed me down in a kneeling position in front of him and used my mouth with his cock for several minutes.

When he tired of that he removed the mouth harness and sat me up on the edge of the desk and stood in front of me. When he was ready to fuck me in the ass, he pushed me onto my spine and added a strap that had a pad in the middle of a long, leather lead, which he placed at the back of my neck. There were cuffs on either end of the strap. He lifted my legs and put my feet through these, so that I was trussed with my legs spread and incapacitated for him.

The use of the various apparatuses was obviously turning him on; his breath came out in increasingly heavy rasps. I was finding the equipment interesting and arousing as well.

He held my knees in his hands while he fucked me and moved my legs out and in with the rhythm of the fuck. Only the Master had done that to me before. I was contemplating why the similarity until, when in high heat during the fuck, I heard my boss mutter, “He told me you would come to me. He told me to have patience.”

“You paid him to prepare and train me for you, didn’t he?” I asked, the realization flooding in to knock me for a loop.

“Yes, of course. Now I want to take you into the other room, where there is an X-frame I will tie you to.”