by Peter Loaf

It is nearly 10 PM when I find the Blum building and park my Mini Cooper in the underground garage. I sit in my car a few moments, checking that there are no muggers around. I wonder at what kind of a dentist keeps such late hours, and on a Friday night to boot. Setting my car alarm, I walk over to the waiting elevator and step inside. I keep my hand inside my purse, holding onto my can of pepper spray. A man comes trotting up and slips in just as the doors begin to close. I do not like the look of him. Between his bushy white beard and sunglasses I cannot see much of his face. His black leather jacket is studded with designs and painted images that, while not actually pornographic, are not something to soothe a nervous virgin like myself. Blazoned across the back is a naked woman posing in slave chains. From one epaulet there hangs a pair of police style handcuffs. There are phallic symbols here and there, a riding crop, a coiled black snake whip, a clenched fist, and across his broad shoulders, beneath his gray pony tail, the words, Born to Top.

Without getting out of the doorway, he reaches out and presses the button for the same floor as Iíve already selected. I try to bolt but, before I can get out past him, the doors have closed.

ďLobby please.Ē I say, as naturally as I can.

He turns to look at me as if he hadnít noticed me before. He says, ďBut arenít you coming up to my office for those braces the studio ordered?Ē smiling through his white whiskers like Santa himself.

ďYou are Doctor Ricardo?Ē I say in surprise, glancing at his tight leather pants and bulging package.

ďAt your service!Ē he says, remembering to take off his sunglasses so that I can see his kindly, Santa Clause eyes.

The instant he touches my hand I feel the bottom drop out of my world. It is like hypnotism, I feel as if suddenly I am not in command of my muscles any more. Itís like I am outside looking in. I watch as my traitorous body goes down into a kow-tow with wrists crossed behind for him in the international signal of subservience. I watch as he ratchets the cuffs close around my elbows, claiming everything I will ever be for his own.

About then the elevator doors open and he hustles he out and across into his office. I want to scream, but my body keeps silent. I watch as he sits me down in his dentist chair and shackles my wrists out to the sides. I watch as he places a leather blindfold over my eyes so that I can watch no more. I feel the cold metal of the dental clamp and suddenly my mouth simply will not close. And then it gets worse as he expands it further, stretching my cheeks tight. Then, to restrain me further he ties my head back against the rest with surgical tubing attached to my dental clamp.

He leaves me sitting here, helpless to flee, helpless to protest, helpless to defend any part of my suddenly very hot body.

I wonder if the studio knows they are sending girls to a pervert.

After an hour I am pretty much done with sitting here. I have spent the time thinking about what can be done to a girl in my fix. My body has reacted to its helplessness by getting sexually excited. I wonder if he can smell my wet pussy through my Leviís. I cannot struggle; I am restrained both physically and mentally.

Finally, I hear someone come into the room. I mentally watch him walk over to my position, feeling his body heat as he stands over me. I scream a little as I feel rough hands grabbing and ripping my blouse down the front. I feel something razor sharp cutting my sleeves and bra straps. I feel the shreds of my clothing being ripped away, leaving me naked from the waist up. I feel his hands caressing my breasts, his fingers twiddling my aching nipples. My jeans are loosened, tugged town and removed, along with my panties. I feel his fingers slipping into my shaved, wet pussy and know that I am his to do with as he pleases.

I feel my ankles being cuffed and fastened, one on each side of the chair, so that my knees are bent and my frothy, swollen pussy is presented. I can smell myself, it is like an in-heat cat prowling a fish factory, only more so. I feel the passion building, the need for sexual destruction, the desire for immolation on this altar of lust. I cannot control these feelings any more than I can control anything else.

I hear a buzzing and try to scream again as an electric toothbrush finds my supersensitive, hard as a diamond clitoris. Again nothing comes out, except a low, animalistic groan of pleasure and the humping of my hips against the buzzing bristles.

I am technically a virgin. I still have my hymen but not my innocence. I lost that to old dirty dingus McGee, the talent scout who discovered me selling red hots on Venice Beach. Having no use for pussies, McGee prefers those parts of a woman she has in common with men. It is the least I can do after he got me this movie contract.

Once you relax, butt fucking can be pleasant enough but until I had a vibrator used on my clit I never knew what an orgasm was.

The part Iím playing is that of a pretty young teenager, still in braces, being stalked by the high school janitor. Thatís why they sent me to this dentist. They told me I needed braces to make me look younger.

My body is, by now, having the time of its life. The stimulation of the toothbrush drives me to height after towering height, the orgasms lasting what seems like forever, driving me through levels of pleasure I did not know existed. I watch in wonder, aware that I have been missing much and that time is short.

I feel the chair descending. Heís lowering it so that he can straddle my chest, naked, and feed me his big hard and smelly cock. I gag and gargle, trying to get air around it and into my lungs. He takes possession of my wind pipe and fucks it deeply, sliding in and out, grunting with the effort of control.

My head is spinning
Iím out of air
His jizzum spurting
The dentistís chair
Gasping and choking
Havenít a prayer
Pussy juice soaking
Sprayed everywhere

I do not know what is happening to me. How can any of this be real? I am his possession, his sex toy, his helpless love doll, his Kleenex. I find myself more confused now than I have ever been before. What would I do if I could escape? Would I run, or stay, would I report him, or court him?

* * *

Memo: This ends the recording of your starletís thoughts under conditioning. They were extracted via brainman after we were done with her. She should be perfect in her part.

Jose Ricardo DDS


At dawn she was released to her agent with no memory of the nightís events. When she awoke several hours later she was in her own bed and in her jammies. The slight soreness she felt in her clit she blamed on her wet dreaming stinky finger habit. When she went to brush her teeth she was amazed to find she was wearing braces. She remembered something about being sent to a dentist but the harder she tried to remember the more elusive the thought. Finally she stopped worrying about it and went to her audition.

She starred in the slasher movie and then got a better part in a Tarantino work the next year. After that the sky was the limit.

Doctor Ricardo still plies his trades, both of them. Even if the girls do not consciously remember what happened to them, the body remembers and the memory is in the muscle. Thus, when her slasher part required passion, she could bring real passion, real convulsive, orgasmic passion. The camera loved it, so did the audience. It affected her life, making her rich and famous. It also caused her to cruise leather bars, looking for love.

The End