Hot Flash!: What the Doctor Ordered



“I just don’t know,” Claire said, her hands wringing in her lap, “I’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything,” Carlton replied, leaning back against the wide office desk.  From his vantage point, he could see the rise of Claire Hopkins’ breasts, a peek of the beige, silky bra she wore beneath her conservative top, unbuttoned just enough to give the doctor a glimpse.  “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I suppose that’s true.  So, you think you can help?”

Carlton nearly laughed aloud at the question.  Of course he could.  What Claire didn’t know was that his kind of help came in two varieties.  The first, more innocuous, aid came in the form of a prescription and a few hypnosis sessions to reduce cravings for cigarettes.  Most of his clients received this sort of attention, and Carlton was pleased to say that he had helped hundreds, maybe even thousands, of his patients in their efforts to quit smoking.  He wasn’t at a one-hundred-percent success rate, but he knew that his successes were far higher than most methods.

As he followed the line of Claire’s calf before it disappeared beneath the long skirt she wore, he focused on the second method of treatment.  This way was more intense, and did very little to cure smoking.  In fact, it encouraged it.

Claire shifted in her chair, and Carlton again admired the shape of her body, revealed in bits and pieces as she shifted and moved.  She turned one way and he could get a clear impression of the enviable size and shape of her breasts, another cross of her legs and he got a peek at the firm, tan thighs beneath the skirt.  Her hair was dark and long, and she’d pulled it back in a thin pony tail that bounced against her back and shoulders as she looked up at him.

“I wouldn’t be a very good doctor if I didn’t think I could, would I?”

Claire laughed nervously in agreement.

“I feel like if this doesn’t work, I’ll never be able to quit.  My sister says it’s because our mom didn’t breast feed us.  She smokes, too.”

Carlton wondered if Claire’s sister were half as lovely.  He had never had sisters before, and the idea excited him.  First things first, he chided himself.  Claire was anxious and squirming, her self-esteem battered by her inability to control her urges.  It was almost too easy.

“I have something I’d like to try.  It’s a little extreme, but it works surprisingly well.”

“I’m willing to try anything.”

Carlton smiled again.  She looked so helpless, so innocent.  He had to distract himself before the slight swelling in his pants grew to a noticeable size.  He wound his way around the desk and opened the bottom left drawer, removing a cedar box.  He placed it ceremoniously on his desk, noting the way Claire leaned forward, another impression of her thin waist and healthy bust.  It was like a puzzle, where you formed the picture in disparate pieces until finally a whole emerged.  He very much looked forward to seeing the entirety of Claire Hopkins for himself.

Lifting the lid, Carlton held aloft a thin cigarette, wrapped in brown paper.  He handled it with only the tips of his fingers, less for hygiene than for the considerable effects of the cigarette itself.  The only other item within, now placed on the corner of the desk near Claire’s chair, was a round, glass ashtray, cleaned for use.

“What’s that?”

“Aversion therapy,” he said, carefully placing the cigarette on the lip of the ashtray, the filtered tip facing Claire.  “It’s been treated with a spray – don’t worry, far less harmful than anything else in the cigarette – that will create a foul taste while also relaxing you.  As I speak to you in a more suggestible state, we’ll build up the association between the foul taste and the cigarette.  The outcome will be an instant revulsion when you think of smoking.”

“So, you’re playing with my mind?” Claire asked, brow lowered in concern.

If only she knew, Carlton mused, but merely responded with a terse nod.

“And I won’t want to smoke?”

“That’s the idea,” he smiled.

“Anything’s worth a shot.  Should I, you know, in here?”

Carlton laughed and nodded.  “Yes, it’s a non-smoking building, but my office is the exception.”

Claire took the cigarette from the ashtray, nestling it with familiar ease between her middle- and forefinger.  It felt oily against her skin, and her flesh tingled where it connected with the butt, like the fading sensation of Novocain.

She fished in her purse on the floor beside her for the lean lighter tucked in the inner pocket and lifted the odd cigarette to her lips, where the same anesthetic feeling accompanied her pursed grasp of the thing wrapper.  The lighter flicked to life and Claire tilted her head, drawing the flame against the tip and inhaling until the tip glowed red.  She inhaled as the lighter’s flame disappeared, and smoke filled her lungs.  It was cool sensation, like a menthol, but not quite as harsh.  She had to blink against the near-immediate rush.  It had been a long time since she’d felt a rush of nicotine like this, but it wasn’t quite the same as she recalled.  The numbing, tingling pinpricks spread from her lips to her chest and throughout her extremities.  In only a moment, she felt unusually relaxed and lazy.

“How is that, Claire?”

“Doesn’t taste bad,” she muttered, trying to find the right words for the taste.  It was hard to find, hard even to keep her eyes open.

“No, it tastes very good, doesn’t it?  Like you’d like to take another drag?”

Yes, she thought, that was the best idea.  It tasted so good.  She inhaled deeply and the foggy haze grew, the effect cascading down her spine until she felt floaty and dreamy.

“Very good, Claire.  It’s good to do as I say, isn’t it?  After all, I’m helping you.”

“Yes,” she managed, taking another deep, slow pull from the cigarette.  Dr. Carlton was being so helpful in assisting with her smoking problem.  It was hard not to when they tasted as good as this one.  And the way it made her feel… like waking up from the most erotic and happy dream and finding the emotions still lingered.  She shifted in the comfortable chair, re-crossing her legs.  She wasn’t one to focus on her sexuality, though she knew the effect she could have on men, but there was a growing heat between her legs she could not deny.

Carlton watched the bright-eyed young woman sink into a mist of submission as the narcotic in the cigarette flowed through her bloodstream…  The way she moved in her chair told him the arousal in her was growing, too, an unexpected side effect of the solution he’d originally experimented with in order to increase the efficacy of hypnotic suggestion.  The benign origin of his work had resulted in something darker, but wholly incredible.  The drug would open the mind and reduce the will of the subject, and any suggestion he gave was quick to burrow into the thoughts of his patient.  He could completely alter the psychological makeup of his subject.  When it came to a beauty like Claire, his impulse to control and own could not be denied.  Carlton was already imagining the new wardrobe to show off that gorgeous body.

“Your sister was right, you know,” he whispered, moving behind Claire to whisper in her ear.  He was careful not to inhale the smoke as she finished off the cigarette, only a burning end remaining.  “You do have what we like to call an oral fixation.  A need to always have something in your mouth.  For a hot little slut like you, Claire, it’s a substitute for what you’d truly like.  And you know what you’d really like between your lips, don’t you?”

Claire listened intently, unable to control the slow roll of her hips against the base of the chair.  She was distractedly excited, now, her matching beige panties growing damp with arousal.  His question haunted her… she did like something between her lips, and with the maddening slickness between her legs, she could think of only one things she really wanted… something long and hard and hot…

“Yes,” Carlton assured her, “it’s easy to know just what you want.  Just what you are, Claire.  You know what they say about girls who smoked don’t you?  They’re bimbos and sluts.  They love to wrap their lips around cocks, don’t they, Claire?”

Normally put off by the coarseness of the language, something about the way Carlton used the word ‘cock’ made her more aroused, and she had to fold her hands together before they pulled up her skirt and dove into the slippery hole that occupied her thoughts.

“Yes,” she whispered, her tongue playing over her bottom lip, tasting the sickly-sweet tang of the cigarette still there.  She imagined the mushroom tip of a hard cock before her right now, and she had no doubt she would take the length of it hungrily.

“And if you love to have something I you mouth, just like a horny little slut, what does that make you, Claire?”

“A horny slut,” she said, and the final word trailed off into a moan as she could resist no longer and crawled her fingers up her thighs, raising her skirt until the inferno burning in her sex was within reach.

Carlton grinned at her neediness.  He had seen it a dozen times before, but this was the moment he savored – when the last of the old life his patient had known crumbled and their mind settled into the grooves he created.  His member was rigid, almost painfully so.  He didn’t want to rush, though.  Claire was beautiful, and her decaying mind was even more so.  She was losing herself in front of him and it made him shiver with anticipation.

“Every time you smoke, Claire, and you love to smoke, it will remind you what a greedy little slut you are, so ready to please.  And you love to be a sexy, pleasing slut, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she repeated, but this time he could detect a new enthusiasm, a sincere belief that she was just what he described.  “Fuck yes,” she moaned.

Her hands had pulled her skirt up until it bunched around her waist, exposing the underwear with its growing damp stain.  Her fingers rubbed against her mound, spreading the slippery moisture until Carlton could contain himself no longer.

The doctor carefully plucked the burnt remains of the cigarette from Claire’s free hand and deposited it in the ashtray, then turned to face her.  Claire’s face was turned up to him, her lips parted as she breathed heavily, eyes dim but aware.

“You need to lick and suck and fuck, don’t you Claire?”

She nodded, her pink tongue darting over her lips again, and the words etched into her mind.  She did love to lick and suck and tease and fuck.  It made her feel so good, almost as good as when she was smoking and thinking about all those other things.

A giggle escaped as her hands reached for Carlton and hooked on his belt, pulling him closer, fingers working the loop free and unbuckling him.  She could see the bulge in his pants, the tip of him straining for freedom, and she was salivating, already feeling a phantom cock in her mouth.

“You’re a good bimbo, Claire,” Carlton groaned as her hand reached into his boxer briefs and wormed his shaft into the open.  “You love to dress in a way that everyone will know what a great cocksucker you are.  You love to show off your body, don’t you Claire?”

She was too busy to reply, and he sufficed with a nod as her tongue snaked out and ran round the circumference of his purple head.  She held his root in her hand, sighing with pleasure as his tip slid over her tongue and into her waiting mouth, an intense satisfaction swelling within her.  She loved cock so much, and Dr. Carlton had been so good to her.  She wanted to show him how pleased she was by giving him the best blowjob she could.

Carlton watched the newly-forged slut working his rod and leaned his head back, the heat and saliva blending to form the perfect pocket for him.  He roughly opened her top, the tink-tink-tink of ripped buttons as they struck the floor accompanying his genuine surprise.  Her breasts – or tits, as she would think of them forevermore – were healthy Ds, larger than Carlton first suspected.  They were gorgeous, nearly spilling over the cups of her bra already, and she moaned as his hands found them and held them, feeling the weight and the stiffening of her nipples beneath the bra.

He draped his fingers with her dark hair, pulling it free of the ponytail, and held the back of her head, guiding her into a rhythm that brought him quickly to the brink of release.

She ‘Mmmmm’ed and her enjoyment of her wanton attendance of his cock sent him hurtling past the edge of restraint, and he thrilled to see that she gulped him down as thick spurts of cum splattered arrhythmically into her mouth.

When he withdrew, Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, giggling up at him.  With her dress pulled up and her top spread open, a thin line of cum still pooled in the corner of her mouth, Carlton congratulated himself on helping another patient.  True, she would never again hold a job that demanded more than displaying her body, but he felt it was a kindness to reveal such a body to the world.

“I’m going to need to see for weekly sessions for the next six weeks to formalize your therapy.  I hope that’s no problem.”

“No problem at all, Doctor,” Claire purred, standing and drawing close.  The way her hips swung with each step suggested that his newest patient may not be fully satisfied.  He took her by the shoulders and spun her, lifting her onto the desk and angling between her legs, spreading for him already.

“Good.  I think we’re going to make great progress,” he grinned and tugged her panties away, revealing a neatly trimmed bush beneath.  “You have twenty minutes left.  Let’s make the most of them…”


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