The Crux

Dr. Sue, Ph.D. sat looked through the multi-paned window at the hills in the distance. "So peaceful..." she said aloud, "Nothng like..." and looked at the file folder on her desk. She had reviewed the case with her superior, the director of Knaps Institute, and both had come to the same conclusion. In a few minutes she would meet with the client and tell him what they had in mind. How would he respond?

Her attire was carefully planned: Short hair, close cropped, white blouse, in a military cut, with a closed, high stiff collar, black necktie falling between her ample breasts, tight black skirt, fishnet stockings and black patent leather five inch heels. She looked like a stern school teacher or director of a women's prison, but her business was with men. Men in need of direction and discipline. Jack's case was not untypical.

Jack Smathers had been twice married, one child with each, but didn't stay long with either wife. He had been in therapy with several psychologists, but made no progress and was finally referred to the institute, which specialized in difficult cases that required special techniques. She looked at the clock and saw that he should be in the reception room so she strutted to her door, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Opened the door...

"Mr. Smathers?" She asked of the middle-aged man sitting in the chair.

"Yes, Dr. Sue?"

"Come this way." she said as she profiled her right foot for authority.

He approached and she directed him to the chair in front of her desk, closing and locking the door behind her. His eyebrows raised and she said, "We don't want to be disturbed." Then, walked around the desk as he stared at her in awe and admiration. She sat on the edge of the chair with the precision of a West Point cadet and began.

"Mr. Smathers, or may I call you Jack?"

"Yes," he gulped.

"We have reviewed your case and the essence of it is this: You have made a mess of your life, and the lives of others, spent two years in therapy, made no progress and two of the best therapists here have given up on you."

"Right."

"Clearly, it seems to me, and to my superiors, that you, sir, need to be punished for your sins."

"What?"

"Yes, punished severely for what you have done."

"Oh God." he said putting his head down. "I know it. I was about to kill myself."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Smathers, we have ways of restoring your will to live. You won't believe it."

"Oh Doctor!" he exclaimed, "Tell me what to do."

"Do you have a major credit card?"

"Why yes."

"This treatment costs $250 and you may need several. Will that be a problem?"

"Oh no, Doctor." He said as he opened his wallet and removed a Master Card, handing to her as she put a card machine and on the desk.

"Ah the efficiency of modern business." she said crisply rolling the imprinter over the multilayered form. Then, handing him his copy.

"Let me explain what we are going to do." She said as the pulled open a drawer and pulling out a two foot long paddle, six inches wide with a carved handle, 18 holes and beautifully finished.

"What's that?" Smathers asked more in shock than ignorance.

"This is a paddle, Mr. Smathers. Have you ever been paddled?"

"No." he exclaimed, adding, "I don't think..."

"Mr. Smathers," she frowned, "in my opinion this is your last chance. You are going to have to rid yourself of these feelings of guilt or you will commit suicide, wind up in an institution or register Democrat."

"I know..." he said in shame, looking down. "I am beginning to think Al Gore makes sense. Help me, Doctor. Tell me what to do."

"Take off your jacket and follow me into the next room." He complied as she opened the door to a small dark room. She turned on the light and he could see that it had what looked like a carpenter's saw horse in the middle, a large mirror on one wall and an array of equipment hanging from pegs on the wall opposite the mirror.

"Take off your shoes, pants and shorts..."

"Shorts?" he asked.

"Yes, shorts. Mr. Smathers, this is a professional relationship. Think of me as your doctor, if you will." That assuaged his anxiety and so he removed his briefs. She could see that he was somewhat aroused.

"Now go over to the stanchion and place your legs next to those of the device." He complied and she knelt on each side to fix his ankles to the legs of the "horse" with leather straps, noticing he was wide-eyed, breathing deeply and quite erect, but the tails of his shirt afforded him some modesty.

"Now bend over and grab that bar." She instructed, pointing to a crosspiece. Then, she bound each wrist with a strap explaining, "This is for your safety so you don't hurt your hands."

"Dr. I'm scared. Is this going to hurt? A lot?"

"Yes."

"Oh God." he quavered.

She inspected his penis to discover it was fully erect and said, "This will never do. You must be able to pee." So she went to the wall and got what looked like an aquarium pump with a three foot long hose with a rubber sleeve on the end. She squirted a teaspoon of KY jelly into the sleeve, knelt and slipped it onto his penis.

"Doctor?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"We need to extract your semen. Are you ready?"

"Ready?" and with that she flicked the switch. The little pump make "topakata, topakata" sounds as Jack got a faraway look on his face. Dr. Sue took a seat strategically in front of him so he could see her crossed legs and in two minutes, with a little jerking, grunting and heavy breathing, Jack "lost it."

"There." she announced and pulled the tube from his limp organ.

"Why, doctor?" he asked. She came close to him and said, "It stings more after you've ejaculated." and she kissed him on the cheek.

Then she strutted to the wall where a series of progressively larger rubber balls, each with a hole and foot long cord through it hanged in readiness.

"I think this will be about right she said as she pulled on a short rubber glove, then took the cord close to the ball saying, "You're not going to like this, Mr. Smathers, but it's necessary because you will lose bowel control and we don't want shit all over the place."

"Oh God." Jack said as she approached, put the ball up to his anus and pushed hard, but the ball wouldn't go in.

"Relax!" she yelled.

"I'm trying." He begged, but the ball wouldn't go.

"Don't be difficult." She ordered, "It's going in!" and tried again, but to no avail. "All right," she announced, "You asked for it." And grabbed the paddle.

"Oh Doctor!!!"

"Take a deep breath." She ordered and he inhaled. Jack saw the backswing flash of the accelerating paddle.

"WHAP!" the swat was deafening in the little room and Jack was surprised that he didn't feel anything, but in a few seconds his nerves recovered and he yelled, "Ahoooo!"

"Now relax!" she ordered, and the ball slipped in place. Dr. Sue was in charge. Now Jack was ready for the main course, straddled over a saw horse, strapped to it in four places, freshly drained of male hormones and limp, but with a butt feeling like 1,000 bees were stinging it.

"Now we get to the serious work." she announced returning to her "Ten holer." In her left hand she took a 30 inch long quarter-inch dowel from a basket of them.

"Listen to me." She ordered standing with her feet wide apart, eyes blazing. "Take ten deep breaths." And he inhaled deeply without question, indicating that he understood the "relationship:" Dr. Sue was in charge.

"When I tell you to get up on your toes, do it or I'll give you some of this." And with that she him a backhand swing with the dowel, which whistled through the air and put a long strip on his buttocks.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he exclaimed as he went up on his toes.

"It's therapy time! Up on your toes." she yelled as she wound up and "SPLAT!"

"Ahoooo!" he wailed and tears gushed from his eyes.

"What are your sins?" she asked.

"I don't know..." he tried.

"You can do better than that! Up on your toes."

"No!" he yelled so he got another backhand with the dowel and was soon on tip toes.

"SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!" she gave him three quick swats and he choked and gasped. Mucous ran from his nose and he made strange sounds as he began to urinate. She held a small bucket under him and soon it was over.

"Now I want to hear it."

"Oh Doctor..." he begged. "I've had enough..."

"We've only begun..." and poor Jack could do nothing but bawl and pee.

"Now tell me."

"I will. I will." he bawled and started to relate how he had cheated on both his wives, spent a lot of money on girls and overlooked his families as she sat on the chair taking notes.

"And what do you think you should receive for this?"

"Oh Doctor! Isn't this enough?"

"No way. I think you need more, a lot more."

"Oh God, please."

"Trust me. I know what you need. I'm going to cure you of this. You'll never again cheat on another woman and you will learn freedom through responsibility, but first." And she took position behind him.

"Oh Doctor, please, I want to say something."

"Yes."

"Doctor, I want to apologize for having made this necessary." And then he started to cry like a small boy. A therapist with less resolve would have let Jack go at this point, but Dr. Sue knew the critical moment was at hand, took position and said,

"That's a good start. Now look at my feet." she ordered.

"SPLAT" Jack winced and recoiled as each swat seemed to sting more than the last. "SPLAT" he was in terrible pain, but could feel a cleansing process coursing through his body. "SPLAT" it was getting dark and he felt like he was dying. How much more could it sting? It went on and on while Jack entered another dimension as his mind and spirit sought another place away from this stinging ordeal, but worse, the reasons for it. Suddenly he was in a hall of light completely bathed in it. He felt new and whole, even if his butt was as big as a tub, and on fire.

"There," she said, calling him back, as she unstrapped his wrists and ankles. He straightened up with difficulty.

"You're going to have to pull that out." She said, pointing to the rope hanging from his rectum. "Go to that bathroom, squat over the commode and yank. He walked with difficulty, closed the door and yelled when the plug came out releasing him in a way only a "paddle enema" could do.

"Oh Doctor," Jack said, "I feel like I've been born again!" You have, Jack, you have, but we should do this again when the stinging wears off in about a week. Is this a good time of day?"

"Oh Doctor," he begged, "really? I think I've had enough."

"I don't think so and you will be here." she said firmly, adding, "and be on time." Then, she strutted from the room to her next appointment leaving Jack to put on his clothes, but first he recorded the appointment on his organizer.