The Doctor Is In

Slave's sad 3 days of solitude are almost over. Mistress and our daughter are already in the car, headed back from the River City.  And you will be surprised to hear that slave was a slacker when it came to exploiting Mistress's "permission" to self-abuse daily while she was away.  I did it Sunday evening, and again on Monday night.  But by yesterday I couldn't muster the energy or interest in taking matters into my own hands.

I guess I am spoiled. I read over at A Married Sissy this morning that Terri has had only 11 orgasms in 2016. That's a little less than my average over two weeks. I may typically miss one day each week. But that's about it. And every now and then there might be a two-a-day!  Talk about your pampered house slave!  So I guess it makes sense that permissive pocket pool would seem like a yawn to me.  It's so much better to have Mistress's assistance!

I also dodged any cage time on this brief hiatus from daily supervision.  Following Mistress's edict, I was able to go to work cageless on Monday and will today because I rode my bike to work.  And yesterday - well there was an MD appointment at the dermatologist. It was time for my annual check-up for this fair skinned Irish lad. Since my MD - a sultry Iranian lady with a kinky wardrobe - is very thorough, well you would not want slave to be embarrassed!

Sure enough my MD appeared in her traditional black leather pants. But since it's still August, she was not in the knee high black boots she sported last November when we met for the first time.  Instead, she had on some strappy black sandals, showing off some well groomed toes in some sort of dark, purplish toe polish.  Impressive. Though not quite as kinky as some fantasy Domme MDs might be.

It turns out I was prudent not to wear the cage. On arrival the perky assistant proposed that I disrobe and put on one of those flimsy surgical gowns. (In green, not pink, Terri!)

"Opening in the back", she helpfully reminded. As if I would think to put the damn thing on with my front wide open, connected only by a couple of flimsy laces.

Soon my Doctor Domme swept into the room, dark hair and smoldering  eyes quickly sizing up my mottled, aging skin with a wisdom beyond her ears.  She quickly ordered me to shed the thin garment to allow for a less obscured inspection.

I had on some madonna blue underpants Mistress had selected for me -  a bit long in the leg, and very soft fabric. Not quite "panties" but the texture comes close.  If Doctor Domme reacted to them, I couldn't tell.  She had me turn around, and had one more direction.

"Would you mind dropping your shorts so I can take a better look down there?"

"Of course not.....( oops....I had to stifle the impulse to conclude with a "mistress"..... I guess that's what happens when I'm left unmoored for three whole days.)

In any event, hopefully Mistress will now understand why I didn't wear the cage yesterday.

Soon my inspection was over. But before I left there was some "discipline" in the form of her torturing my face and head with some of that ultra cold gas she sprayed from a little tank to freeze off some "pre-cancerous" spots here and there.

"Maybe I should just stick my head in a bucket of that stuff" I snarked.  She was not amused.

Sadly, she then left me to my own devices, with a nod and hand shake and instructions to come back in two months. I quickly climbed back into my street clothes, and caught one more glimpse of her at her desk computer, no doubt recording the results of my exam.  Or maybe she was just checking her "Fetlife" or "collarspace" in box?