As usual, Drew was running late. Nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another, he watched in silence as Dr. Wang’s receptionist ambled lazily down the hallway. As the man opened the front door and ushered Drew into the vestibule, Gelfand was quick to notice that, instead of wearing the traditionally starched medical whites, Dr. Wang’s receptionist was clad in a plaid flannel shirt which was open at the neck, a pair of faded jeans and wore a black leather wristband studded with shiny metal spikes. The young man’s dark brown eyes diverted the visitor’s attention, if only momentarily, from his carefully trimmed beard, the leather thong tied around his neck and the sharp contours of his flat-top haircut.
Ever since the onset of the AIDS epidemic, Drew Gelfand had been forced to be more careful about acting out his sexual fantasies. In fact, as soon as the Mine Shaft closed down, he had given a great deal of thought to restructuring what limited amounts of play time remained in his heavily-scheduled life.
Certain sexual activities had automatically been curtailed. In fact, most of Drew’s nastier fetishes had been put to rest as the growing health crisis forced him to seek out the city’s more creative sadists; co-conspirators in sexual fantasy whose imaginations went far beyond the tired old routine of “Beat me, whip me, tell me I’m a worthless piece of shit and then kick me out of your life.”
Last month, Drew’s friend Maurice had raved about a mysterious sadist named Dr. Wang, telling him that -- considering Drew’s morbid fear of dental drills -- a visit to Dr. Wang was probably what he had always longed for. However, an advance payment of $450 just to have his teeth cleaned seemed a bit exorbitant to a man whose professional responsibilities required him to find any possible way to cut costs. Still, Drew told himself, these days being referred by the right person was so important.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, as the receptionist opened the door to Dr. Wang’s waiting room.
“That’s no one’s fault but your own,” replied the young man, “and I’ll just bet you’re gonna pay for it. I’m Dr. Wang’s assistant, Stan Owens, and if you behave yourself properly today, you might even earn the privilege of calling me by my first name.”
Drew didn’t like the young man’s attitude but figured that it was all a part of Dr. Wang’s routine. He watched quietly as the receptionist grabbed a clipboard off the shelf. “You can strip in here and hang your clothes on those hooks in the wall,” said Stan. “I’ll wait until you’re done just to make sure that you’re clean.”
Drew hesitated, wondering if the young man would at least allow him the courtesy of disrobing in private. His hopes were quickly shattered when the receptionist gave Drew’s ass a sharp slap with the clipboard.
“Better put a move on, stud. This is one dentist who doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Gelfand obediently removed his suit jacket and hung it on the wall. Silently undoing his tie, he stared at the bearded young fellow, searching for some clue as to what might happen next. Drew’s wavy blond hair, thick sexy moustache and trim, muscular body had always been able to disarm any guy he met in the bars. But the man who was now watching him had been through this routine far too many times to let down his guard. All week long he dealt with hot-shot lawyers and politicians who thought they could intimidate him.
“Step on it buddy,” he warned the patient. “Or your ass is grass.”
Standing on one leg at a time, Drew struggled to remove his shoes and socks. Unbuttoning his silk shirt, he carefully draped it over his suit jacket and then turned away from the young man’s intense gaze while loosening his belt. After stepping out of his trousers, he reached over to the wall and hung his pants on a hook. His Calvin Klein undershirt came off next, followed by a pair of light blue silk boxer shorts. As Drew turned around to face the receptionist, the young man caught sight of the two gold rings which pierced Drew’s nipples and the studded leather loop encircling the older man’s genitals.
“Well, well, well. It looks as if we’re all ready to play doctor today,” chuckled the receptionist. “This session might just turn out to be a lot of fun.”
Surveying Drew’s body, Stan thrust the clipboard and a ball point pen into the naked man’s hands. “You’ll need to fill out this form for our files. When you’re done, meet me in the room at the end of the hallway. Write nice and clear so’s I can read your handwriting.”
Drew stood in place, dumbly waiting for further instructions.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t take too long,” warned Stan.
As soon as the young man had left the room, Drew looked around for somewhere to sit down. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a piece of furniture in sight. Leaning against the wall, he held the clipboard in front of him and filled in the usual information about age, address, insurance coverage, and medical background. The two questions at the bottom of the form, however, gave the handsome, 52-year-old executive a rude shock.
Do Your Jaws Ever Get Tired?
With a smirk on his face, Drew wrote “Not unless they’re given cause to.”
Do You Have a Strong Gag Reflex?
In big block letters he scribbled “Try me,” and headed down the hallway.
As he entered the dental suite, Drew could see Stan hunched over the sink, fussing with some utensils. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” the young man suggested as he pointed toward a chair unlike anything Drew had ever seen in a dentist’s office. Its top tapered to a helmet-shaped insert for the patient’s head while its legs fanned out to form a giant Y. As Drew slowly eased his naked body into the seat he felt his legs spread out in such a way that his balls were left hanging loose. His head fit perfectly into position in the cup-like headrest.
“Put on this sleep mask, keep your mouth shut and try to relax,” ordered Stan. “All this does is cover your eyes so you can’t see what’s happening in here while I finish getting the room ready for your session.”
As Drew pulled the mask over his face, the glare from the dental lamp disappeared. Settling back in the chair, he discovered that the darkness felt strangely reassuring. Through the speakers in the helmet, he could hear a piano concerto coming over the sound system. In an odd sort of way, he felt as if he were in the driver’s seat of a custom-designed sports car.
His attention was suddenly diverted from the music by a whirring sound as he felt the chair tilt backward so that his head would be closer to the floor. A moment passed and then he could feel Stan’s breath beside his right ear.
“Once we get going, if you want us to stop you can always raise your right hand,” crooned the receptionist as he fastened the restraints on the chair’s arms and legs. “But I sincerely doubt you will.”
Stan pushed a switch and watched patiently as the legs of the dental chair began to rise and spread apart. “I’m going to clamp this thing over your face and position your head properly in the chair,” he told Drew. “The idea is for you to only breathe in through your nose. The longer you keep your mouth closed, the higher you’ll get. It’s a very pleasant way to get stoned and, after a while, you won’t feel uptight at all.”
There was a momentary hiss of gas before the rubber frame of the mask clamped shut around Drew’s nose. Soon, he began to feel light-headed, as if his fingers were tingling and parts of his body were separating and floating off into space. Through a haze he could hear Stan speaking to him.
“I’m going down the hall to get some tools and will be back in a few minutes. You just relax and try to stay calm. The gas will loosen your inhibitions and heighten the sensation of any outside stimuli.”
The young man tapped Drew on the chest to make sure he was listening. “I’d suggest you take deep breaths,” Stan hinted. “As if your life depended on it.”
As the gas continued to take effect, Drew began to feel heavy, yet weightless; alert, but numb. Whenever he tried to move his arms they felt like lead. He could barely feel his fingers, much less encourage them to fight against gravity. Meanwhile, the music seemed to be separating in his brain; the sound of the piano rushing off in one direction while the strings drifted in and out like waves hitting the shore. Each time Drew’s head began to feel warm, his toes would start to tingle.
The gas had him floating on a cloud. And yet, as lightheaded as he may have felt, Drew could also sense some changes happening around him. Someone had entered the room and placed a cold, metallic object on his chest. There was a sharp tug on each of his nipples and then a stabbing pain as both rings were pulled upwards. A deeper voice than Stan’s began to speak.
“Okay, schmuck, listen up. My name is Dr. Wang and the first thing we have to establish here today is who’s really in charge. Frankly, I don’t give a shit how important you are outside this office. I work on judges, bishops and policemen all week long. So the fact that you’re the General Director of the Metropolitan Opera isn’t worth a can of beans to me. When you come here to have your teeth cleaned, you do as I say. Is that understood?”
The patient gasped as the pain in his nipples increased.
“Am I making myself clear?” barked Dr. Wang.
“Y-y-yes,” Drew answered. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” chuckled the dentist. “At least we’re not going to have any problems establishing authority. Now, then. Stan, here, is going to attach a few gadgets to your body just to help us keep you in line. And, because you were late for your appointment this afternoon, we’re going to let you listen to something a little less soothing than Tchaikovsky while I work on your teeth. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a very special tape that I just know you’re going to enjoy.”
The mellow sounds of the piano concerto came to a sudden stop and, after several moments of silence, were replaced by a throbbing disco beat. Suddenly Drew heard a woman’s voice -- that woman’s voice -- bellowing in his ears. There was only one singer in the world who sounded so strident. Although most opera people had to admit that her voice was unique, few could tolerate listening to it for longer than ten seconds.
“There’s no business like show business,Drew clenched his teeth at the sound of that horrible vibrato.
Like no business I know!
Everything about it is appealing.
Everything the traffic will allow.
No where can you get that happy feeling
When you are stealing....”
“Not too many people bought the Ethel Merman Disco Album, but I always had a sneaking suspicion that it would come in handy some day,” laughed Dr. Wang. “And since I don’t exactly admire a lot of your casting at the Met, I thought I should seize the opportunity to offer you a remedial course in what good diction is all about.”
The dentist increased the volume on the sound system until the music was just below Drew’s pain threshold. As the Merm kept singing about the joys of show business, the head of the Metropolitan Opera tossed and squirmed in the dental chair. However, with a full set of arm and leg restraints pinioning him in place, Drew quickly realized that he wasn’t about to escape. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow until, gasping for air, he begged the dentist to turn down the volume.
The music fell back to a reasonable level as Dr. Wang chuckled with glee. The dentist then gave a sharp tug on the metal chain connecting Drew’s tit rings. “Are we having fun yet?” he asked.
Drew kept gasping for breath.
“All right, Gelfand. It’s time to have a look around your mouth. Open up,” ordered Dr. Wang.
Drew felt the dentist’s hands forcing his jaws apart. A gentle touch was obviously not part of this man’s repertoire.
“That tartar near your gums looks mighty suspicious,” barked the dentist. “Have you been flossing like a good little boy?”
When Drew confessed that he hadn’t flossed in over a month, the dentist reached down and removed the sleep mask from his patient’s eyes. As Drew’s vision adjusted to the blinding glare of the dental lamp, he could see that Dr. Wang was a powerfully built man who had spent many hours at the gym.
The man standing before him was clad in a black leather harness which framed his smoothly-shaved chest and massive pectoral muscles. In addition to his black leather chaps, the dentist wore a studded codpiece. The size of Dr. Wang’s biceps was accentuated by his black leather armbands.
However, the most striking thing about Dr. Wang was that his head was completely shaved; an affectation which highlighted the gold ring he wore in his left ear and almost made him look like a sadistic version of Mr. Clean. As Drew looked up, he could see a dental probe hovering less than an inch away from his left eye. The dentist looked down at his patient and slowly ran his tongue across his lips before speaking again.
“We have a very special treatment in this office which teaches disobedient little pricks like you to respect what we tell them about the importance of flossing their teeth. I think I can guarantee that after you walk out of this office tonight, you’ll never again forget to floss,” he snarled.
“Hey Stan, would you hand me some of our extra special tooth cleanser?”
Dr. Wang’s dental assistant passed a small cup to his boss and an extremely anxious Drew Gelfand watched in silence as the dentist applied some powder to the tip of his drill. “Now I’m only going to explain this to you once,” he warned. “When we clean the teeth of our good patients, we use either an orange or mint-flavored cleanser. But for bad little boys like Drew Gelfand, we have a special dental powder which works wonders. Would you like to know why it’s so effective?”
Drew nodded his head obediently.
“That’s because it has a flavor resembling raw sea urchin. Now, in case you’ve never been a big sushi fan, let me tell you that you’re about to have yourself a tasty little treat!”
Drew could feel the blood draining from his face as the dentist’s drill moved between his lips. With the first taste of the bitter cleansing powder, he felt as if his entire mouth had been filled with the scum collected by the filter in a large aquarium.
Feeling no need to give his patient a break, Dr. Wang moved the drill back and forth over Drew’s teeth with clinical precision. While Drew salivated furiously in an effort to get rid of the acrid taste in his mouth, Stan suctioned off the liquid which kept gathering in the patient’s oral cavity. After two minutes of cleaning (which, to Drew Gelfand, felt like a lifetime in culinary hell), the dentist removed the drill and placed it in its holder. Drew let out a sigh of relief as Stan sprayed his mouth with water and gave him a chance to catch his breath.
“Now that your teeth look so nice and purty, I guess we can get down to the real business at hand,” said the dentist. “Stan and I like to think of ourselves as performance artists so, as you can imagine, we’re extremely honored to have someone from the Met joining us in our office today. After Stan finishes attaching a little gizmo to the tip of your dick, he’s going to demonstrate his skill with a paintbrush for you.”
When Drew felt a rubber cuff sliding down the length of his penis, he was a bit disappointed. He’d been through lots of sessions where they used an Accu-Jac; that was no big thrill anymore.
“Oh, come, come, Maestro Gelfand, I’m sure you know that protective devices are an important element of safe sex,” cautioned Dr. Wang. “The machine you’re about to get to know on a most intimate basis is no ordinary suction pump. Stan has hooked you up to an electronic milker similar to the kind they use on dairy farms. He’ll be monitoring its speed controls once we get going. However, in the meantime, my assistant’s going to put a thin coat of wintergreen oil on your testicles to get you in the mood for our festivities.”
Drew felt his scrotum being lifted, a slight tickling sensation near his perineum, and then a sudden wave of heat -- as if someone had stuck his balls into an electric socket. As the patient bucked and squirmed in his seat, Dr. Wang merely smiled, waiting until he could see drops of perspiration forming on Drew’s brow. The dentist then pushed a switch which caused the dental chair to tilt backward in such a way that the top of Drew’s head was nearly touching the floor.
Drew Gelfand was strapped tightly into the dental chair with no means of escape.
As he straddled Drew’s face, Dr. Wang unsnapped his leather codpiece, placed it on the shelf to his right and picked up a shiny foil packet. Unwrapping a fresh condom, he teased Drew as he rolled it onto his cock. The dentist then beckoned to his assistant and picked up a remote control switch.
While Dr. Wang stroked his organ into a semi-aroused state, Stan used a Q-tip to apply some fluid to the sheepskin condom on his boss’s rapidly hardening cock. The tall bald man smiled obscenely as he looked down and saw one of the most important people in the arts world lying helpless at his feet.
“Here comes the fun part, shithead. This device in my hand is sorta like the joystick on a video game. It’s linked to a computer which controls the movement of your chair’s helmet and, therefore, the movement of your head. If I want, I can make it perform a sudden 360-degree rotation which will break your neck. Got the picture?”
“Y-y-yes, sir,” Drew gasped.
“Now, since Stan has painted the condom on my dick with the fluid used to preserve some of most potent Jalapeno peppers in all of Mexico, all you have to do is deep throat this baby until the cows come home.” As he pressed a button, there was a whirring sound as Drew’s head began to rise toward the dentist’s crotch.
“Open wide, you worthless piece of scum. Say ‘Aaagh,’” laughed Dr. Wang.
Drew’s eyes widened in terror as the bald man’s cock passed between his lips. Seconds later, as he felt his throat catch on fire, he could hear Ethel Merman's voice, accompanied by that awful disco beat, blaring:
“You’re an old smoothie.
I’m an old softie.
I’m just like
putty in the hands
Of a boy like you!”