Fifty Shades of…

So… on that hot Monday, among everyone in that room, she called me over when she saw my limp member, unable to react.

He looked me up and down and ordered me to take off my shoes.
I obeyed.

In his firm voice, he instructed me to lie down on the bed and wait.
It was then that I was able to pay attention to the people around me: their moans and occasional screams filled the air and distracted me, preventing me from noticing that she was approaching me from behind.

Only when he gripped my arm firmly did I realize it was my turn, and caught off guard, I didn't even have time to react: his trained and experienced hands forcefully lifted my forearm, making my stiff arm stiffen. sternocleidomastoid pulsate in an unexpectedly painful way.
All of this ended up leading me to moan shamelessly in front of all those people.

The End of Modesty…

From that point on, I completely lost my shame: during that intense session, with strong and rhythmic movements, I, Geovane Souza, surrendered to the skill of his hands, no longer caring about the times when—having my body explored and pushed beyond its limits—I moaned loudly, screamed… and, I confess, embarrassed, I even drooled.

I don't even know how long I stayed there, the object of that vigorous manipulation process that made me feel like a puppet, capable, at times, of emitting such strange sounds that they attracted the attention of strangers in that environment.

But suddenly she stopped and, returning me to a resting position, said:

"That radial nerve of yours will take some time to show a response; we're going to need to exercise your upper limbs a lot before that arm is completely healed, okay?"
See you on Wednesday.

He turned and went to attend to the next patient, leaving me alone and still a little dizzy. I got up, composed myself, and prepared myself mentally for the next treatment session.

50 Shades of… Physical Therapy