Returning to the drawer, he withdrew one of the shafts. It was about the thickness of a Sharpie marker, and widened at one end in a flange.
‘Body temperature is another benchmark we use for our treatment. This wireless thermometer will give us the final piece of data we want to verify a successful treatment-along with her heart rate, vaginal contractions, and the visual and auditory cues we observe directly as she reaches her climax, we’ll have a full picture of her central nervous system’s mode of arousal and cascade effect.’
As with the pressure sensor, he carefully coated the thermometer in Serena’s juices, then gently, slowly pressed it against her anus.
Serena was not expecting this, and she began to protest. But Dr. Andrew calmed her with a soothing word, and encouraged her to take a deep breath and exhale fully. As she breathed out, he pressed the device an inch into her rectum and reassured her she was doing a wonderful job before asking her to take another deep breath. Over five breaths he patiently, slowly, and with absolute precision guided the thermometer deeper into the young girl’s bottom, until the entire shaft was buried to the flange at the end.
Despite her initial reservations, Serena’s vulva was practically pouring lubrication from around the tightly-fitting ball as the doctor filled her anus with the thermometer. The computer monitor came alive with new data readouts of her temperature and vaginal pressure, and Dr. Andrew smiled as he returned to softly rubbing my daughter’s clitoris, nodding approvingly as the colored graph from the pressure sensor buried in her vagina jumped each time he touched her.
‘Well, I’m happy to be able to tell you that your daughter has unusually strong vaginal muscles, Robert,’ he chuckled. ‘She’ll truly be a pleasure to be inside in a few months.’
For the next ten minutes Dr. Andrew subjected Serena to a painstakingly detailed protocol as he massaged, stroked, caressed, pinched, probed, and flicked practically every inch of her body. He even experimented with firm slaps across her entire vulva, his hand making a wet smacking noise as it contacted the soaking, swollen flesh of my daughter’s genitals. Serena winced in pain and whimpered for him to stop this particular stimulus, which he did immediately-but not without noting that despite her protests, her vital indications on the monitor had all spiked again, and the table beneath her bottom was now gooey with her juices that had rushed from her opening as he’d slapped it.
Dr. Andrew’s sure hands had deftly elevated every vital marker on the monitor. Her temperature was elevated, and when her heart rate had reached 105bpm, he subtly altered his technique, pausing at short intervals and even occasionally removing his hands entirely from Serena’s body at times when her vagina clenched tightly. She writhed and struggled against the straps, trying to keep her pussy against his hand, but he simply kept his eye on the read-out and waited for her to relax her vaginal muscles again before resuming his work.
He found she was particularly receptive to having her clitoris tugged gently and rhythmically between his thumb and forefinger, as if he were milking the little nub, while he maintained a firm squeeze on her breast. Each time he returned to this technique we would watch the vaginal pressure monitor climb steadily, then, with what amounted to a sixth sense, Dr. Andrew would remove both his hands from her body just before she reached a critical level. What was truly fascinating was how he managed to keep her heart rate plateaued at 105 for over five minutes of this torture.
Serena’s breathing had become ragged; her body alternated between a total spasm that seemed to freeze her in place, and a state of wild thrashing and moaning each time her clitoris lost Dr Andrew’s masterful touch.
Finally, after what seemed like countless cycles of this, as we watched her lie glistening on the table, her mouth panting, eyes closed, heart rate seemingly stuck too high to recover, but just below the what she needed to achieve the climax she desperately needed, Dr Andrew nodded to me and indicated it was time. Releasing my daughter’s breast, he dipped his middle finger into the pool of musky juices that spilled from her entrance, then brought his finger to her mouth.
Instinctively she opened her lips wider, her throat straining against the strap that secured her to the table. Her eyes stayed closed, and Dr Andrew gently traced the edges of her lips, leaving a gleaming trail of her own juices as if applying a lip gloss. The tip of Serena’s tongue shot out, hungrily retrieving the slick fluid from her lips and reaching for Dr. Andrew’s finger; after teasing her briefly, he relented, dipping his finger into her mouth, massaging her tongue, exploring the back of her throat, and letting her suck urgently on it. At the same time, he used his other hand to resume tugging slowly on her clitoris in long, firm pulls that stretched it to its limit before letting it slide stickily back beneath its protective hood.
Serena froze, every muscle straining against the straps that held her in place, and then suddenly, violently, she began shaking as a long, high wail emerged from her mouth. Dr. Andrew glanced at the monitor, which showed every vital sign spiking together, and nodded to draw my attention to the vaginal pressure readout, which showed powerful, rhythmic contractions about half a second apart. His hand was drenched in her juices as her vulva released a burst orgasmic fluid, and he continued his work with an admirable professionalism, using his skill and the information from the sensors embedded in her body to prolong my daughter’s climax.
Finally, she shuddered to a stop, her chest heaving, her eyes closed. Dr. Andrew helped her calm down by gently rubbing her belly and breasts, and letting her suck on his finger for a few more moments. After a while he gently pried the pressure sensor from her vagina, and slowly drew the long, black wireless thermometer from her rectum. Then he began unbuckling the restraints, and helped her sit up on the edge of the table.
Serena’s breasts were glistening in sweat and seemed to have grown-her nipples were certainly deeply flushed and prominent. She trembled gently as she stood up, a giant grin on her face, and she nearly collapsed into me, giggling as I took her naked body in my arms and hugged her close.
As she shakily dressed, Dr. Andrew discussed basic after-care: ensure she got plenty of fluids this afternoon, maybe let her take a nap, and because the stimulation could sometimes be intense the first few times for young girls, he instructed me to check if she was sore or chafed at all before bed tonight, and he gave me a soothing ointment with instructions to rub it gently onto her vulva and anus if she needed it.
The transformation in Serena’s attitude and school performance over the next few days was nothing short of miraculous, and it made a believe in the power of Feminine Relaxation Therapy out of me. Regular visits to Dr. Andrew’s became part of our schedule with the girls, and I looked forward to when they could experience some of his more ‘advanced’ treatments.