Disappointing Dr. Rogers Pt. 03

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Recap: Doug, a mid-20s shlub with a small dick, had been returning to his hometown regularly to visit his childhood psychologist, Dr. Rogers, for months while his relationship with his girlfriend, Jess, deteriorated. Dr. Rogers had been a caring, warm presence in his life since he was a boy, but he also harbored a secret infatuation with her.

Part I began when Doug, horny and eager for humiliation as penance for his inability to sexually satisfy his now ex-girlfriend, hatched a plan to show Dr. Rogers his small penis. Little did he know what revealing his shortcoming would awaken in the psychologist; she reacted viscerally to his smallness and berated him for how it had rendered him ineffectual and weak in his personality. After a devastating humiliation, Doug submitted to Dr. Rogers.

Part II chronicled Doug’s next appointment, when Dr. Rogers cemented his submission to her and outlined treatment for his problem. She fitted Doug with a chastity cage, explaining that the padlock for his plastic prison had three keys. She would hold one key, as would Doug’s ex-girlfriend Jess, and Brandon Crowley, another patient of Dr. Rogers’ whom Doug had known in high school. Crowley came to the office and witnessed Doug exposed in all his emasculated, degraded glory. We pick up in Part III.

*****

Disappointing Dr. Rogers – Part III

Doug took a deep breath. Here he was again, at the door to Dr. Rogers’ office suite. He waited there for a moment, anxiety swirling in his stomach. He tried to swallow to ease the fluttering in his chest, but he couldn’t conjure up much saliva. Finally, he reached out, turned the knob and stepped into the waiting room.

It had been a week since his last appointment, a week since Dr. Rogers had first instructed him to put on the chastity cage that was now tucked away under his boxers. It had been a long seven days. That first night was torture. He hadn’t passed such a sleepless, tense night since a bout with a stomach virus when he was in college. All he wanted to do was to forget about the plastic shell imprisoning his manhood, but his mind stayed laser focused on his groin. He tossed and turned for hours, oscillating between frustration over his inability to find a comfortable position and futile, desperate horniness.

The first full day was almost worse. At first, he had woken up from a fitful sleep momentarily unaware of his circumstances. He wasn’t reminded of his cage – and all the memories of humiliation it represented – until he swung his legs off the bed and felt its weight pull his small package down between his thighs. The day was full of reminders – trivial and monumental – of his situation: when he realized he would have to sit to pee in the men’s bathroom at his office; when he had twisted unwisely in his chair and wrenched the tight plastic ring around his scrotum; when he ogled without discretion at the goddesses on his subway commute only to have his nascent erection cowed by the cruel curve of the cage.

Still, Doug hadn’t even taken out his phone to text Brandon Crowley until the fourth day, a Saturday, when he had woken up with what passed for morning wood. His balls were pulled tight against the ring as his engorged shaft thrust the tube outward and away from his body. Driven by lust, he humped his bed furiously in a frantic attempt to generate some sensation and satisfaction in his penis, but he gave up with whimper. He had taken the phone out and gotten as far as selecting Crowley’s number to begin a new text chain, but the thought of the alpha’s patronizing smirk as he opened his front door was enough to make Doug throw his phone across the bed.

The dread induced by the barest imagining of an encounter with Crowley sustained him. He never texted, and he never called. There were more nights of pathetic bed humping, more endless days of frustration and waiting at work, and finally one morning when he woke with his sheets damp and sticky from a wet dream, but he didn’t waver, and for that small victory, he was proud. He didn’t know what lay ahead of him in Dr. Rogers’ office, but it couldn’t have been worse than what lay behind him.

He closed the door behind him. The waiting room was the same as ever; toys and games were piled high in bins and on shelves, and a collection of old People and Sports Illustrated magazines were arranged in a fan across the low table. Doug held his breath for a few moments, but he didn’t hear any talking in Dr. Rogers’ office, no sound to indicate a previous patient. She was waiting for him. He began to undress.

Obediently and diligently, Doug removed his shoes, into which he stuffed his socks, and folded his shirt and pants and placed them on the couch. Finally he removed his underwear. By now he was at least semi-aroused at all times, and the straining cage bobbed in the air as the elastic waistband slipped around it. Doug felt a distant, dull ache in his balls. He cursed all the times in his life that he had freely and uselessly masturbated for driving him to this humiliating moment. He folded the boxers and placed them free spin neatly on the couch.

He stood before the office door for a moment. He thought of the voluptuous, acid-tongued goddess waiting on the other side of the door, and his exposed ass clenched as he tried in vain to flex his penis. He took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped in.

Dr. Rogers wasn’t in the office. Doug was expecting to hear the jangle of earrings and bracelets as the doctor turned her head to look at the door. Instead, there was silence. But the office was not empty. Sitting in the back, on the couch facing the door was Brandon Crowley.

Doug froze in the doorway. His stomach plummeted, and it felt like he was gulping back his heartbeat. He had been relatively sure that Crowley would be making an appearance today, but he was at least hoping to be eased into it with Dr. Rogers first. Even though she only offered him sneering disdain now, Dr. Rogers was still somehow a comforting presence. She was trying to help him – she said, at least – and Doug didn’t think things could get too out of hand under her watch. But here he was, caged and exposed in front of that smug asshole Brandon Crowley with nobody to protect him. His penis had never felt smaller and more impotent.

“Get in here and close the door,” Crowley commanded.

Doug could read Crowley’s gleeful look from across the long office, and his guts swirled in anger, frustration and pent-up horniness. But he didn’t dare disobey. He closed the door and walked back toward the sitting area. He knew better than to try to cover his chastity cage. The padlock making a loud clacking sound as it bounced against the plastic housing with each step. Doug saw Crowley’s eyes dart down his groin and register the symbol of his inferiority.

As if in turn, Doug’s gaze was drawn inexorably to the groin of Crowley’s dark jeans. He pictured the beautiful specimen that he knew lurked beneath the denim, and Doug felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Crowley’s posture on the couch – his legs were sprawled open and his arms were spread, perched along the back of the couch – was illustrative of a natural, fearless confidence. Doug gulped, but his mouth was dry.

Doug reached the sitting area and stopped. He knew he would not be allowed to sit until he was commanded to, so he just stood with his arms at his sides and fidgeted nervously. His fully exposed cock was shriveled to its minimum size, and Doug could see it didn’t even fill the small tube of his prison. Crowley sat before him, only feet away.

“Karen said she’d be back in a few minutes,” Crowley said. “She asked me to wait here in case you showed up. She said she thought it would be good for us to have some alone time together, especially since you didn’t call me.” At this last comment, Crowley gestured with his eyes to Doug’s crotch.

Perhaps it spoke to his fragile mental state, but Doug was thrown by Crowley’s use of Dr. Rogers’ first name. The familiarity tore at him, tying his roiling stomach into knots. His infatuation with Dr. Rogers went back over a decade, and he hated to think that other patients, especially this jerk from his high school class, had their own independent relationships with her that whole time.

The easy confidence with which Crowley had spoken the name revealed even more. Dr. Rogers had probably suggested that Crowley call her Karen, an offer she had never extended to Doug, even when they enjoyed a more traditional doctor-patient relationship. Doug had a flash of insight – Dr. Rogers had recognized Crowley as another adult, a co-equal, whereas Doug had never risen above a child in her eyes. The image of Dr. Rogers eagerly jerking Crowley’s huge cock off onto her perfect beautiful breasts swam to the front of Doug’s mind. It was safe to say that now was not the first time he had reckoned with that particular memory over the past week. Despite his intense humiliation, his penis tried to harden in its cage. Luckily, he was either too small to be perceptible or Crowley just didn’t notice.

“I’m kind of surprised you didn’t call, to be honest,” Crowley continued, unperturbed. “I could never go a way without nutting, and from everything Karen has told me about you, I know you rarely miss a chance, too. Or a meal!”

Crowley suddenly sat forward and slapped Doug’s gut hard. The report of the slap – shocking in the silent room – surprised Doug almost as much as the pain and embarrassment, but he managed not to recoil too much. His bulging stomach wobbled like a Jello mold in the still, quiet room. Crowley chuckled and sat back, satisfied.

As Doug recovered, he processed what Crowley had said about Dr. Rogers discussing him with Crowley. That she would think so little of him that she would casually breach such a sacred confidence was insulting and humiliating. Did he really mean nothing to her? He again thought of Crowley’s fat cock splattering Dr. Rogers’ chest with thick ropes of sticky white cum. He felt a little more confidence drain from his rapidly dwindling supply of self-respect.

Doug’s own little bonus veren siteler cock, though it had softened with Crowley’s spontaneous slap, stiffened again. Oh my god, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so horny, he thought. His eyes again traced the bulge in Crowley’s jeans, and he unconsciously licked his lips. He realized he wanted to feel the thick, strong meat in his hands. Maybe even in his mouth.

“Anyway, she told me to have you in an appropriate position when she comes back.” With this, Crowley suddenly lost the conversational tone he had struck thus far; he now spoke in short, terse sentences: “Get on your knees.”

Doug was startled out of his horny reverie, and he froze, then awkwardly lowered himself to the carpet.

“Come on, fat boy. No, over there, by the bookshelf, out of the way. Bend over and put your face on the ground. Look at the wall. Spread your legs. Wider.”

Doug obeyed without hesitation. Suddenly his bare ass was up in the air. He felt the breeze from the air conditioning vents waft past his exposed asshole, which winked and tensed. Per Crowley’s command, Doug’s head was oriented toward the back of the office, and he was staring directly into the base of the large bookshelf that covered most of the wall. He couldn’t see much at all of the rest of the room, and the back of the office, by the door, was completely obscured. His arms lay bent in front of him, his elbows by his ears. The unsightly underside of his locked cock and balls – shaved bald but with deep red grooves from the imprint of the cage’s ring – was completely visible.

Doug heard Crowley rise from the couch and cross the room so he was standing directly behind him. There was silence for a moment, and Doug didn’t know what was going on. He imagined that Crowley was stroking the underside of his cock through his jeans with his thumb, a distinct outline slowing emerging in the denim.

“I was actually talking to Zach Kauffman earlier this week,” Crowley said suddenly. Doug’s nerves ratcheted up at the mention of another high school classmate. Crowley had just been some guy in the hallways at school, but Doug had known Kauffman better. They had been in a ton of the same classes, and were on friendly terms. He’d seen pictures on Facebook of Kauffman recently – still youthful and handsome with thick hair, but broader and more mature than in high school. In some of the pictures, he was surrounded by other young, good-looking people at bar or something, often including several beautiful girls holding iPhones and smiling with perfect white teeth and shimmering hair.

“Your name meant nothing to me when Karen first brought you up,” Crowley’s voice continued behind him. “But Zach remembers you. He’s dating that chick Erica, too. Remember her tits? They’re still so fucking perfect.

“I fucked her when we were seniors,” he said almost wistfully, “but she’s still hot as hell.”

Doug couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Zach Kauffman and Erica Leonard know about his little penis and complete loser existence? The thought was devastating. Doug hadn’t spoken to either of those two popular, successful go-getting jocks in almost a decade. He couldn’t imagine their looks of surprise and revulsion as they dredged up an image of Doug from their memories and assigned it the labels of SMALL DICK and LOSER before forgetting about him again. Crowley hadn’t said if he’d fully divulged Doug’s secret, but even the idea of it made Doug’s skin crawl and stomach hurt. Even amid this tornado of angst, his small scrotum – constrained by the cage as it hung meekly between his spread legs – tightened with nervous excitement.

Doug was sure Crowley was grinning cruelly behind him, but before he could say anything else, the office door opened. Doug instinctively tried to turn to see, but Crowley slapped him on the ass sharply, and Doug quickly turned his head to the bookshelf. His left ass cheek smarting, Doug bent all his thought toward listening.

The door opened and someone entered. There was rustling and the sound of shuffling steps and then the door closing. There was the flinty jangle of keys being dropped on a desk.

“Hi Brandon,” Dr. Rogers’ raspy voice carried sweetly across the room. Doug had never heard her speak so girlishly before. He listened as she walked toward seating area in the rear of the office. “She’s in the bathroom.”

She who?! A thousand images flipped through Doug’s mind. He squirmed in his supplicating position, and his asshole winked again.

“Great,” Crowley said.

Dr. Rogers approached Crowley and there were more rustling sounds, like clothes rubbing together. Doug’s asshole was staring at them mere feet away, but he was completely ignored. After a moment, Dr. Rogers’ jewelry jangled as she stepped away and sat down in her customary chair. Crowley followed her and resumed his cocky sprawl on the other couch.

Another pregnant silence was broken by stifled chuckles from the seating area. Doug guessed that Crowley and Dr. Rogers had been gesturing and mouthing to each other, and he had deneme bonusu veren siteler no doubt their humor was derived from his humiliating predicament. He didn’t need to know the exact reason for his ears to burn in embarrassment.

The door opened again. Doug’s breath quickened, and he strained his ears for any clues about the identity of the newest witness to his submission. He heard movement from the chairs to his left and guessed Dr. Rogers was turning around.

“Hi honey,” Dr. Rogers said invitingly. “Come on back here.”

The door closed, and Doug heard tentative footsteps. He shifted his weight nervously on his elbows and knees, causing his little chastity cage to wiggle between his large thighs. The footsteps stopped behind him. He knew the unknown eyes were drinking in the humiliating sight: a chubby man cowering naked in the corner, his face turned away and his large, hairy ass shoved up in the air. Doug shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to cry out or get up and run out of the room.

“Oh you can ignore him,” Dr. Rogers said. “He’s where he deserves to be, and he knows it. Come, sit down. This is Brandon.”

Crowley rose from the couch.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Crowley said. His voice was friendly and gracious, without a trace of the eager maliciousness he used when torturing Doug. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The visitor spoke for the first time.

“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you, too,” a woman’s voice said. She and Crowley sat down next to each other on the couch. “Karen has told me a lot about you.”

Doug froze and his eyes shot open. Please, please, please God, do not let it be who I think it is, he thought. It can’t be. I can’t handle it. His body tensed and he tried to gulp, but there was no saliva.

“Brandon’s been a patient of mine for years,” Dr. Rogers said. Her nonchalant tone was unfathomable to Doug, who was taking fast shallow breaths. “After I heard so much about you” – she was speaking to the visitor now – “I thought he might be someone you’d like to meet.”

Doug almost couldn’t register Dr. Rogers’ outrageously flirtatious demeanor as he pieced together what she said about “hearing so much about” the visitor. He thought he knew who was sitting on the couch next to Brandon Crowley and witnessing his own humiliation, but he just needed to hear her speak one more time to be sure …

“Oh yes,” the visitor giggled. “I was nervous about coming, but after your descriptions, I figured I owe it to myself to meet him.”

There it was. The hesitant laugh. The nervous lilt in her voice. Doug knew that voice. He had loved that voice. And he couldn’t deny it any longer: The speaker was his ex-girlfriend Jess. He absolutely could not believe it, but at the same time realized that he was stupid not to have seen this coming. He shut his eyes tight against this new madness and uttered an involuntary whimper. He cursed himself silently as the three heads in the room turned toward him. He wanted to be absorbed into the floor and disappear forever.

“I think our little bitch in the corner has just realized who our mystery guest is,” Dr. Rogers said mockingly.

Doug tried to give no reaction. He wasn’t sure why he was fighting this so hard when he had brought it upon himself, but he just couldn’t give up that part of himself that yearned to be an assertive, masculine man who got what he wanted.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Rogers said: “You know, no self-respecting man would put up with this. That’s why I’m doing this. You need to go through this or you will not get anything out of your life. You must learn what you are.”

Doug wasn’t sure what do, so he stayed prone and quiet, waiting on tenterhooks for the next move.

Dr. Rogers let Doug stew for an endless moment before saying: “OK, well let’s have a look at you. Stand up.”

Doug’s only instinct over the past 15 minutes had been to stand up and get out of his humiliating position, but now that he was faced with the prospect of doing just that, he didn’t think he could do it. The idea of meeting Jess’ gaze after this display of pathetic subservience was horrifying. There was security in his ignorant submission. He didn’t have to reckon with the pain and tribulation of the world around while he was down on his knees. It was a lesson that he would soon take to heart.

Still, he pushed himself up onto his knees and rose to his feet. His back remained toward the audience, but his eyes were downcast, and he saw sweaty red marks on his pale, lumpy stomach and broad knees from where they had been crammed together while kneeling. He knew how unappealing he looked, and combined with the humiliation of his tiny cage, he thought the final effect might even be considered humorous. He turned around.

All three of them were watching him intently. Dr. Rogers was sitting back in her chair, her eyes studying him sternly over the rim of her wire-rim glasses. Even though she was seated, Doug could tell her charcoal pencil skirt was tight and short. Her hair had been recently cut and done up, and it hung it tight ringlets around her face, which was expertly made up. She wasn’t wearing a blazer over her dark blue blouse – not surprising given the warm weather – and Doug was momentarily hypnotized the protrusion of her large womanly breasts. His cock surged in its cage, and Dr. Rogers smiled.

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