Medical fetish phone sex is painful. I know this back-alley doctor. She lost her license to practice medicine when she was prescribing Oxy to herself. My kind of doctor. Now, she does botox and gets rid of buns in the oven off the radar. She also pays druggy whores like me for experiments. Painful and violent experiments for folks who pay her for Hostel type experiences. She knows I need coke money and that I am a pain slut. I have survived torture and mutilation at the hands of her private clients. I figured one more time would not kill me. The money was too good to pass up even if I ended up disfigured or sexually mutilated. It started off fine. Painful, but not much I could not handle. They had me hooked up to electrodes. Some sort of shock therapy involving orgasms. They called me Pavlov’s Dog. I knew what it meant even if they thought I was too dumb to get it. They were trying to see if they could condition me to cum with pain. Joke was on them. I was conditioned for that ions ago. I played along because I wanted the money to score coke. My dealer would be so shocked when I paid with cash instead of ass. My experimental doctor wannabees kicked the torture sex up to 11. My flesh was burning. I think my clit was smoking. I cried. I grimaced. And I pleaded for it to end. Burning the flesh off my body is nothing new, but I am not as dumb as people think. I know if I act like the pain is nothing then the pain will become something. Those crazy bitches thought they were scarring me for life. We both know you could do far worse to me.
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