Luca

you’d done everything — read every self help blog, followed the advice on reddit threads, bought a vibrator, a dildo, the rose toy that everyone said was guaranteed to give you a mind bending orgasm, you’d whispered your needs to your previous partners, even screamed at one or two, but no one ever got it right. no one ever got you there. not even yourself.

it started to feel like a cruel joke. something other people could have, just not you. until your best friend leaned in over lunch one lazy sunday, sipping her coffee and said, “have you ever heard of the neo orgasm clinic?”

“oh god,” you laughed, “like a place that teaches you how to come?”

she grinned, “not teaches. they do it for you. and it’s guaranteed.”

you blinked, “what? so i pay for someone to have sex with me?”

“you pay someone to make you orgasm,” she shrugged like it was no big deal, “wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world,” she says, sipping her coffee with a sly smirk.

and just like that, a seed of curiosity, or maybe desperation, rooted itself in your chest.

✚ BOOK NOW ✚

signing up was easier than expected. discreet, elegant, clinical but not cold. you filled up the introductory form — name, age, contact information, payment details, then moved onto the deeper intake.

step 1: medical verification. a form requesting a recent full panel STI test within the last month.

step 2: sexual preferences & boundaries. the screen lit up with a list and instructions

check all acts you’re open to exploring with your donor. this does not guarantee they will occur. your donor will review and operate within your boundaries at all times.

you skimmed the list, heart racing just a little and checked the following:

☑️ bondage

☑️ choking

☑️ clitoral stimulation

☑️ domination

☑️ dirty talk

☑️ edging

☑️ fingering

☑️ kissing

☑️ impact play

☑️ nipple play

☑️ oral

☑️ orgasm control

☑️ praise

☑️ rough sex

☑️ spanking

☑️ spitting

☑️ vaginal penetration

you hovered over a few others. degradation? group sex? objectification? you skipped them. not this time. you weren’t here to be humiliated — you were here to figure out why the hell your body kept locking up the second anyone touched you like they meant it.

step 3: why are you booking this appointment?

you had to type. no multiple choice. just a blank box waiting to be filled. your fingers hesitate above the keyboard. then you answered:

i’ve never had an orgasm. not from another person. not from myself. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i’m tired of pretending. i’m tired of faking it. i want to know what it actually feels like. i want to stop being in my head. just for once. i want to let go.

you hit submit before you could overthink it.

step 4: choose your donor.

you clicked through the digital profile list, fingers hovering each name. each donor were vetted, trained, screened and certified in pleasure — not jut sex. these weren’t porn stars. these were licensed professionals. this was science, chemistry and understanding the human body and psyche. or whatever the website said to make you feel better about booking an appointment.

you hovered each name. a few looked promising. one had nice eyes. one had “mean” listed as a keyword. another had glowing reviews for how “slow and gentle” he was.

but then you saw him — mark lee. top donor. most requested. five-star average across every review. the testimonials read like something between a religious experience and the aftermath of a natural disaster.

“didn’t even know my body could do all of that, my god.”

“sweet, respectful, and somehow still completely ruined me.”

“made me orgasm like i’ve never orgasmed before”

and the most repeated one of all:

“i always book mark when he’s available, he knows exactly what to do. a guaranteed orgasm. every time.”

you didn’t even hesitate. you clicked BOOK NOW.

Neo Orgasm Clinic Consultation: CONFIRMED

Donor: Mark Lee

Date of Consultation: July 29, 2025

you stared at your bedroom ceiling in the dark, heart pounding a little too fast. you didn’t know what to expect. you didn’t know what you’d feel. but for the first time in years, you felt hope. and maybe, if the reviews weren’t exaggerating, you were finally about to find out what it meant to feel like your body belonged to you.

✚ THE CONSULTATION ✚

you almost canceled. twice. was this morally questionable? maybe. was it completely insane? absolutely.

but you still showed up. your nerves were coiled so tight they felt like they’d snap with one wrong move. you’d picked out a simple outfit, nothing too suggestive, nothing too uptight. but still, as you sat in the pristine waiting lounge of the neo orgasm clinic, ankles crossed and fingers clenched around your bag strap, you felt entirely exposed.

everything about the clinic was calm, curated. the lighting was soft and golden, the walls a warm cream, subtle scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the space. the kind of place that looked more like a boutique spa than a place where orgasms were clinically achieved.

even the receptionist was beautiful. sharp suit, glossy hair, delicate bone structure. his name tag read taeyong. he smiled when you walked in like he already knew everything about you. probably because he did.

“first consultation?,” he asked, tilting his head with a practiced sort of empathy.

you nodded, “is it that obvious?”

he chuckled, “only a little,” he teased, “but don’t worry, everyone’s nervous at first.”

taeyong pulled up your file on his screen, “you’ll be with mark today. he’s just finishing up. shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

your heart stuttered at the sound of his name. somehow, it felt heavier now. every second you spend in this clinic feeling more real than ever. this wasn’t a fantasy. this wasn’t a dream bordering into a nightmare. this was real. you were going to meet him…anytime now.

taeyong slid a sleek tablet across the desk, “while you wait, kindly review your file, click agree if no changes need to be made. consent is required for everything.”

you nodded, accepting the tablet and settling back in your seat. you skimmed your file one last time then submitted the form. the screen thanked you and welcomed you officially to the program.

exactly five minutes later, the door on the left of the receptionist table, labeled private suites opened with a soft click. and there he was. the man in the website. the top donor. real human being — mark lee.

you blinked. it was like seeing someone you’d only ever imagined walk into reality — all soft black hair, warm eyes, and a smile that was…surprisingly shy for someone with reviews like his. he was dressed in a simple black slacks and a fitted charcoal blazer, sleeves pushed up to reveal veined forearms and a silver watch. professional, polished, but somehow still boyish. he was speaking with someone. a girl that looked around your age. who’d look like she had just had the best time of her life. then she headed to taeyong and mark turned his focus towards you.

“hey,” he said, walking towards you and offering his hand, “you must be, ms. y/n.” you nod, placing your hand in his. his grip was firm, professional, “i’m mark. come follow me,” he said, guiding you toward the doors on the other side of the receptionist table labeled, consultation rooms, “no pressure,” he adds, shooting you a smile, “just talking today.”

the room felt like a cozy therapist’s office. a plush sofa, a low coffee table, a few plants. no examination table. no cold metal instruments. just comfort. mark sat across from you, legs crossed casually, an open tablet in his lap. he offered you water, asked if you were comfortable, then smiled before getting started.

“alright, let’s talk about you,” he said, voice low and calm, “why you’re here. what you’re hoping to get out of this experience.”

you hesitated. you’re sure he already knows. already looked at your file. but still, saying it out loud felt impossible. the words were caught somewhere between your throat and your pride.

“you can open up to me,” he urges softly, patiently, calmly, “we’re both here for you.”

you nodded, finally finding your voice, “ive…never had an orgasm.” you exhaled, eyes lowering, “i’ve tried…a lot…it just….doesn’t happen.”

mark didn’t blink. didn’t smirk. didn’t do anything to make you feel small. instead, he nodded slowly, like he’d heard this before. like it was okay. like you weren’t a complete helpless case. like you weren’t broken.

“thank you for telling me that,” he said softly, “i know it’s not easy to admit out loud but i want you know something — there’s nothing wrong with you.”

you looked up at him, sighing, “feels like there is.”

“i know,” he nodded, “but trust me, there are a million reasons why achieving an orgasm can be difficult — physical, mental, emotional, trauma-related, hormonal, sometimes just bad luck with partners. but it’s not permanent. and it’s not your fault.”

that made you smile, barely, but it was there. he smiled back, warm and nonchalant, “so, you’re not broken. you’re just…unsolved. that’s where i come in.” you swallowed hard. the warmth behind this words caught you off guard.

he tapped a few notes on his tablet before setting it aside, “here’s how this works,” he said, “you set the pace. we take our time. always. you can stop me and say no anytime. nothing happens without your permission. and we don’t even have to do the session unless you’re completely ready.”

you nodded slowly, processing his words, “okay.”

mark studied you for a beat, “do you want to tell me anything else you might have forgotten on your file?”

you hesitated, thinking, “i think i just…want to stop thinking so much. i get in my head. i start worrying about how i look, how i sound, if i’m being too much or not enough. it’s hard to stay in the moment.”

he leaned back, thoughtful, “so your mind is the roadblock.” he smiled a little, “that’s more common than you think.”

“do you really have a 100% success rate?” you asked quietly.

that made him laugh – not loud, not cocky, just amused in a warm way.

“our stats don’t lie,” he smiles, “but it’s because i take my time, i listen, i pay attention,” his voice dipped, “pleasure isn’t a race to the finish line. it’s a process. one i’d be honored to help you through.”

you felt your cheeks flush. he noticed and softened his voice even more, “you don’t have to decide today but if you’re comfortable, i’d be happy to schedule your first session.”

your pulse quickened, “...yes,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, "i want to.”

his smile returned, warm and sincere, “good,” he said, tapping his screen, “i’ll have taeyong reach out to confirm your appointment date.” he stood up, offering his hand again, “thank you for choosing me.”

you took it and this time your grip was steady, “see you soon, mark.”

Neo Orgasm Clinic Appointment: CONFIRMED

Client: Y/N L/N

Donor: Mark Lee

Date of Session: August 2, 2025

✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚

you were early. too early. you sat in the same softly lit waiting room, knees bouncing, pulse in your throat. taeyong gave you a knowing smile as he gestured you towards the private suites door and the down the hallway.

“suite 8, he’s ready for you.”

the words made something twist low in your stomach as you walked towards the room. you entered slowly — suite 8 was nothing like you imagined. it wasn't clinical or sterile. it felt more like a luxury hotel room, quiet and warm, wrapped in soft ambient lighting. a large couch sat near the window. there was a bed. there were blankets, clean white sheets and a speaker humming low instrumental music. every detail was designed to ease tension, to invite softness.

you notice him adjusting something on the bedside table, a glass of water, a box of tissues, a towel. and then — mark turned.

“hey,” he said softly, “i’ve been waiting for you.”

he was dressed in black slacks, a black tie and black long sleeve button up, with the sleeves folded up his arms. hot but casual. the entire room, his casual demeanor, made it feel like you’re not at a clinic and just booked a dick appointment like it was a bumble date.

your lips curved, nerves still tangled in your chest, “i-i’m here.”

mark chuckled, not mockingly, but with that same warm, honeyed tone you remember, “you’re cute,” he said simply, “i like that you’re not pretending to be cool.”

you exhaled slowly, “i don’t think i could even if i tried.”

he stepped closer, slow and measured, giving you space with every move, “do you remember what i said during our last meet up?” he asked.

you note how he doesn’t use the word consultation, how he’s trying to make this all seem like it’s a normal hook-up and not a service.

“y-yeah. i’m in control. i can stop you. ask questions. say no.”

“good.” he murmured, his gaze searching yours for a moment longer, “but i’m going to be honest with you.”

his hand lifted, brushing his fingers down your jaw, slow and warm, “tonight, i am going to take control. you came here because your body hasn’t been shown how it deserves to be touched. and i don’t do halfway, sweetheart.”

you swallowed hard.

“so tell me,” he said, tipping your chin up with two fingers, gaze locked on yours, “can i touch you?”

you barely breathed, “yes.”

one of his hands travelled down your arm to your lower back, leaving behind trails of goosebumps in his wake.

“can i kiss you?” he said, eyes locked on yours. your breath caught. you nod.

he didn’t hesitate. mark grabbed your jaw and kissed you — hot, full, unrelenting. he kissed like he owned your mouth. his lips slanted over yours, opening you up, coaxing you open, tongue swept in with purpose — wet, confident, greedy.

you moaned into him, the sound swallowed as his tongue tangled with yours in filthy, practiced patterns. he tilted his head, deepened the angle, sucked softly at your bottom lip only to follow it up with another tongue-heavy kiss that made your spine arch. your hands clutched at his shirt on instinct, dizzy from the pace, the heat, the want.

you feel him smirk through the kiss as he kept going. his hands began to roam, starting at your waist, dragging up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt, just enough to make you gasp, then down again, gliding over your hips before settling on cupping your ass. his hands gripping tight and hot.

you squirmed, trying to shift closer but he held you steady. dominant. measured. not rushing but not enough to give you relief either. he guided you towards the couch, lips never leaving yours.

“sit.” he ordered, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. you obeyed without thinking. he kneeled between your legs, grabbing your thighs to pull you to the edge. the kiss resumed, but filthier this time, more desperate. he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he wanted to fuck your mouth with his tongue until you forgot what you’re here for.

“you taste so fucking sweet,” he growled, pausing to bite your bottom lip. slowly. sensually. “bet i’ll find out you taste even sweeter somewhere else.” you gasped, trembling. his fingers were already under your shirt, dragging it up inch by inch, “arms up, baby.”

you lifted your arms, dazed, his use of pet names making it feel way more romantic than it should. he carefully peeled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, hands immediately finding your bare skin, palms dragging up your ribs, thumbs brushing the peaks of your breasts through your bra. you leaned toward him instinctively and he chuckled.

“sensitive,” he muttered, “good. i want every part of you begging.” he kissed you again, harder this time, wet and open, lips slick with spit, you could hardly keep up. every kiss felt like it left you raw. ruined. but craving more.

his fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, then popped it open easily. he dragged the straps down your arms, slow and teasing, “you’ve been neglected long enough, haven’t you, pretty girl?” he said against your lips.

he trailed his mouth down your neck, sucking at the pulse point until you whined, then he licked lower, over your collarbones, between your breasts, circling your nipples with maddening slowness. his hands stayed firm on your thighs, squeezing, keeping you spread and trembling.

“i want you to stop waiting for an orgasm,” he murmured as he kissed lower, lips just above your waistband, “feel everything. the pressure. the tease. the ache.”

your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding his face on your nipple, “please—mark, i need—”

“i know what you need.” his voice was low, but firm. his mouth still latched one of your nipples, sucking harshly.

“you think you’re the first person to sit here and say they don’t know how to come?,” he laughed softly, switching to the other peak.

“you’re not broken, baby. you’re untouched. and i’m about to change that.”

he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear at once, and then he stopped, eyes locked on yours.

“you trust me to take care of you?”

“yes,” you whispered, breath hitching.

“say it louder.”

“yes—yes, i trust you.”

“good girl.”

he smirked, dragging everything down in one slow, smooth pull, baring you to the cool air. to his heated stare. his eyes darkened as he took you in, and he let out a soft groan, hand gripping your knees to push them open wider.

mark leaned back just though to take in the sight of you — completely undressed, legs parted, breath shaky, lips kiss-swollen, flushed and desperate, beneath the soft golden lighting of suite 8, vulnerable and exposed.

“fuck,” he breathed out, jaw tense, “you’re so pretty like this. spread out for me. waiting.”

you whimpered as his hands slid up your inner thighs, thumbs brushing too close to where you ached, then retreating again. and again. and again. his touch was everywhere except where you needed him most. the ache between your legs pulsed — soaked and neglected, your body betraying how ready it was.

but still, your mind wouldn’t shut up. wouldn’t let you stay there in it. what if i can’t? what if i freeze up? what if he thinks there’s something wrong with me?

and mark knew. he could see. hear it in your gasps, feel it in your tension. that’s why he smirked like that, cruel and knowing. like he was enjoying watching you unravel in slow motion, one nerve at a time.

“tell me how this feels,” he murmured, leaning forward to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbone again.

“let me hear you.”

“i—” you gasped, jerking as his teeth grazed a nipple, then soothed it with a slick, wet lick, “it’s—it’s not enough—mark, please—” he hummed against your skin, lips warm as he kissed back up to your throat.

“good. that’s exactly where i want you. i don’t want you comfortable yet. i want you needy. desperate. begging me to touch this pretty pussy.”

and you were starting to be. you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a heartbeat thrumming at your core. still, mark didn’t touch you there. his hands continued their teasing path, caressing your hips, your stomach, your thighs. never slipping between.

his tongue pushed into your mouth again, curling with yours, fucking it slow. one hand tangled in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss. his other hand slid down—finally, finally—settling just above your mound. the heel of his palm pressed just enough to tease the ache, and you whimpered, hips jerking upward like your body was pleading.

“already soaking, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, “and i haven’t even touched you properly.”

“please, please, i need—”

“no.” he cut in, voice sharp, dangerous. “i decide when you get that. you gave me your trust, baby. so let me show you what your body’s capable of when it’s not trying to hurry up and finish just to feel something.”

you whimpered quietly, looking at him with pleading eyes and only then did he let his fingers finally slip lower, gliding through the slick pooling between your legs. you gasped at the contact, but he didn’t go inside. just circled, rubbed, spread. over and over. maddening and slow.

“you’ve been chasing orgasms,” he muttered, placing a hot, wet kiss below your ear, “without knowing where they live.”

you moaned when he dragged his thumb over your clit, gentle at first, then firmer, enough to make you buck your hips. his mouth found yours again, kissing you harder now, every wet slide of his tongue mirrored the rhythm of his hand, slow, controlled, rubbing soft circles around your clit.

and you tried to stay in it, you really did. but before you could focus on the pleasure, your mind tensed again. breath caught. brain whirring. what if it’s not enough? what if i sound weird? what if i can’t let go?

your thighs started to close.

“no.” mark growled, his voice darker now. he shoved your legs apart again, pinning them open, “don’t hide. let me give you what you’ve never had.”

“i’m trying,” you choked, voice high and splintered, “but i-i dont know if i—what if i can’t–”

“it’s building up,” he grunted against your lips, “but you’re in your head. i can feel it”

and then, with no warning, he pushed one finger inside you. your back arched as your walls clamped around him, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

“fuck—so tight,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he pushed deeper, curling slightly.

“you’ve been keeping this all to yourself, huh?” he pumped slow, shallow, his finger curling just enough to make your toes curl with it. then he added another. watching your face like a predator.

the moment your moan cracked through the air, high and broken, your eyes shot wide open, your hand clamping your own mouth, instinctive, terrified of the sound you made.

mark’s entire body tensed. he grabbed your wrist and yanked it down.

“don’t fucking do that.” his voice was rough. eyes wild. not with lust but with something more dangerous. hungry.

“up.” he ordered lowly, voice already thick with arousal. “on the couch. lay back.”

you blinked, dazed, “what—”

“now.”

the command in his tone made your stomach clench. you moved instinctively, letting him guide you, your bare back sticking slightly to the leather as you laid down. he helped spread your thighs wide over the edge. you were open now, fully exposed to him. he hovered above you.

then — he pulled his tie off in one swift motion. yanked it free from around his neck with a harsh flick. and before you could ask what he was doing he pinned your arms behind you and wrapped it tightly around your wrists, the silk biting softly into your skin.

he leaned over you, hot breath against your ear, “do you know what i do when pretty girls like you can’t let go?”

you shook your head, lips parted, eyes blown wide with lust.

“i don’t slow down,” he whispered, “i break them.”

then he looked down at you like a man starving. like a man about to feast.

“look at this,” he muttered, dragging two fingers through your folds again, lightly slapping your pussy, as he positioned himself between your cunt.

“so wet and ready,” he grunted against your aching core.

the first stroke of his tongue was slow. deliberate. — a warm, wet slide right up the length of your slit, ending with a soft suck to your clit that made your hips jump. you gasped, back arching.

mark groaned against you, “god, you taste unreal,” he growled, “i could stay here all night.”

and he meant it. he licked again, then again, tongue flattening against your core, teasing, tasting. his mouth was hot, his tongue devastating, alternating between slow strokes and precise flicks, sucking at your clit just enough to make your thighs tremble. his hands gripped your hips tight, holding you open as he buried his face deeper.

he was good. too good.

but still, that coil of pressure in your belly wasn’t catching. your breath hitched with every swirl of his tongue, but it didn’t crest. it didn’t tip. you kept chasing the edge but never quite reaching it. you couldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. what if this is it and i still don’t come? what if i’m the one person he gives up on? what if i disappoint him?

mark noticed it all. and he was tired of watching you get in your own way.

“i said i’d take my time with you.” he muttered, voice rough as knelt between your legs, towering over your exposed body, chest heaving slightly.

“but don’t mistake that for mercy.”

the kindness in his voice had cooled into something sharper, darker. still controlled. still careful. but this wasn’t the same soft-spoken man who asked if he could touch you. could kiss you. this was the version of him who knew exactly what you needed before you did. the one who didn’t need your trust. the one who commanded it.

you blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath. mark was already working on his shirt, buttons flicked open with practiced, irritated speed. like you being like this —trembling and touched and still not broken open, had finally pushed him past whatever professional restraint he’d been clinging to.

“you want to feel something real?” he asked, low and dark as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. his torso was lean, toned, strong, defined muscle under fair skin. veins prominent in his forearms, a shadow of control beneath the surface. you couldn’t stop staring, but he didn’t give you long.

“eyes on me.” he snapped. you flinched and obeyed instantly.

“good girl.” he muttered, already undoing his belt.

“you’re done overthinking tonight. you’re not here to analyze. you’re here to surrender.” he kicked his slacks off in one motion, dark briefs still clinging to his hips, already showing the outline of his cock pressing tight against the fabric. he moved between your legs again, now completely shirtless, he let you feel him. skin on skin. then, his hand came up to grip your jaw, not hard, just firm enough to make you feel it. to keep you grounded in his hold.

“i’m going to rewire that pretty little brain of yours,” he grunted, tone like velvet stretched over steel.

“because clearly, your body’s ready but your head hasn’t shut the fuck up once since you got here.”

you whimpered, nodding under his grip.

“and when you come, it’s going to be because i made it happen.” he continued, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, “you’re not going to perform. you’re not going to fake. you’re going to fucking lose it. because i’m going to take it from you.”

then he was sinking to his knees again, this time bringing your legs up to your chest, holding you open like a meal he was ready to devour. the position was cruel. your hands tied behind your back was starting to hurt. but he didn’t care.

“no more playing nice.” he muttered. “you’ve had enough of that.”

and then—he ate.

there was nothing soft about it this time. his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the only thing that could save him. tongue flat and wide, licking deep and messy, then curling to flick at your clit with precision that made your hips jerk off the couch. you cried out but he only held you down harder.

“stay still.” he growled into your cunt, tongue never pausing, “i didn’t say you could run.”

you couldn’t push him away, the tie tight around your wrist. his grip on your thighs tightened. every stroke of his tongue was filthy, practiced, deliberate. he sucked your clit, then dragged his tongue lower, licking you open, tasting you with obscene, wet sounds that only made the pressure worse. hotter. deeper.

and still — you couldn’t let go. still, that voice in your head whispered too much. what if he’s doing all of this and i don’t come? i bet i look really weird right now. what if i’m really broken?

mark slammed his hand flat over your lower stomach, fingers splayed wide, his mouth unrelenting. and then he pulled back, just for a breath. just long enough to growl, “get out of your fucking head, baby. right now.”

his voice dropped.

“focus on what i’m doing to you.”

then he spit directly on your clit, letting it fall slowly, hot, messy, then immediately sucked you into his mouth like a punishment. it was so hot. a high pitched moan escaped your lips before you could even think about it. he hummed low like he knew it’d short-circuit your brain, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. his fingers slid back inside, fucking you now. harder, faster, rougher, thrusting with a rhythm of your unraveling.

“i don’t care how long it takes.” he snarled, breath hot against you.

“i’ll break you open and fuck the hesitation out of you.”

it was working. the fear was melting into heat. shame into friction. every thought replaced by the overwhelming sensation. you were teetering on the edge of something unfamiliar and terrifying. the pressure was unbearable, intense and unrelenting, like your body was being dragged past the edge whether it was ready or not.

mark didn’t stop. he pulled your clit between his lips again and again, flicking his tongue until you were gasping. curling his fingers over and over again.

“say it.” mark growled. “say you want to come.”

“i—fuck—i want to—mark—”

“louder.”

“i want to come! please—don’t stop—please—”

“come.” his voice demanded, vibrating against your skin. “let. me. have it.”

and then—you broke.

“oh my god—” the words tore out of you, breathless and wrecked, “f-fuck, don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

and he didn’t. your hips bucked against his mouth. the rest of the words dissolved into a sob from your throat so raw, so guttural, you hardly recognized the sound as your own. your back arched clean off the leather couch, hands gripping so tight hoping you could tether yourself to the moment as your body seized with sensation.

your orgasm didn’t rise like a tide — it detonated. it wrecked you open. no warning. just impact. a white-hot snap that split through you like a faultline finally giving way under years of pressure. it was too much. too big. too real. like something that had been lodged deep inside your chest your whole life had just ripped free — wild and screaming and glorious. years of silence and shame, of second-guessing and not-quite-getting-there, all flooding out at once.

your thighs clamped around his head, but mark didn’t flinch. he held you there, mouth relentless, fingers tight on your hip to anchor you through every tremor, every aftershock, as you writhed and whimpered and let the orgasm tear through your body. his tongue is merciless, unrelenting. mouth locked on you like he was dragging every last drop of that orgasm out of you until there was nothing left. until you were finally begging him to stop.

when he pulled back, his lips were slick. his face wrecked. his eyes triumphant.

mark licked his lips, “that,” he panted, “was one.”

you blinked at him, tears shining in your lashes, “i didn’t think i could…”

“you can,” he said firmly, brushing your hair back. “you did.”

then he untied your wrists slowly, carefully. but his voice stayed rough, “get on the bed.” he ordered.

“we’re not done.”

he gripped your thighs lifting you easily like you weighed nothing at all, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. a silent yelp slipped from your lips as he tossed you onto the bed with a bounce that knocked the breath from your lungs. the sheets were cool against your overheated skin, your body slack and spread open, chest rising and falling like you’d just survived something. or maybe like you were bracing for what was next.

mark’s lips found yours again, hot and claiming. his kiss wasn’t soft anymore — it was deep and consuming, all tongue and teeth and groaned hunger. he tasted like you. he traced a hand up your side, slow and steady, fingertips brushing every rib, every tremble. he was watching you like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch.

“you still with me?” he asked, voice rough around the edges now. lower. thicker. like he was barely holding himself back.

you nodded, dazed. “yeah. just…. holy shit.”

he smirked, “good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

you huffed a breathy laugh. “like… i didn’t even know i could come like that.”

mark’s thumb brushed the corner of your lips, dragging gently across your cheek. his eyes softened, but only for a second.

“that was just the beginning.”

then his expression darkened — not cruel, but hungry. that same deep hunger you’d caught glimpses of earlier, now unleashed. like something inside him had snapped loose the second you shattered and now he was free to do what he really wanted.

he sat back, eyes locked to yours and reached over to the nightstand. you watched as he tore open a foil packet with his teeth. condom. protection. professional. safe. but the way he rolled it on, slow, deliberate, cocky — made your mouth go dry.

your eyes dropped. you finally saw him. all of him. he was long. thick. the flushed tip already glistening with precum. your breath hitched.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmured, dragging his fingers between your folds again, making you jump, “you want more?”

your answer was instant, “yes. please.”

“you want to be fucked until you forget your own name?”

“yes, please—mark,” your hips bucked into his touch, already craving the stretch.

mark leaned down, mouth brushing your ear, his breath was hot.

“i’m going to fuck you now.”

the words made you clench. one hand guiding his cock to your entrance, the other gripped your hip with enough force to bruise.

“breathe,” he reminded, voice steady.

“and keep your legs open for me.”

you obeyed, trembling, aroused, needy. and then — he pushed in. just the tip at first. then inch by inch, he filled you. stretching you open, dragging slowly through your soaked heat, the pressure exquisite and unbearable. your eyes rolled back. your nails clawed into the sheets. when he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours, you couldn’t breathe.

“fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god—mark—” your hands came up to grip his hair.

you were so full. it felt like too much. he stilled there, letting you feel it, the stretch, the weight, the sheer intimacy of being filled by him.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched.

“you’re gonna hold on, baby? think you’re strong enough to fight me off again?”

and then he pulled out just enough to slam back in, you cried out. back arched. stars bursting behind your eyes.

he started thrusting — deep, sharp, claiming. again. again. setting a brutal rhythm, relentless and unforgiving, pounding into you with full, punishing strokes that rocked the entire bed. his grips on your hips was bruising. his pace was perfect, desperate, controlled, yielding. your moans were raw, punched out of you with every thrust. loud. real. unrestrained.

mark never looked away. watching every twitch of your body, every tremble, every cry of his name that tore from your lips like a prayer.

“you feel that?” he rasped. “your body is already giving in.”

you could barely speak. your second orgasm was building fast, sharp and electric, clawing up your spine as he adjusted his angle just enough to hit that spot, again and again, until you were falling apart beneath him.

“mark—fuck—i’m gonna—”

“come again.” he ordered, voice dark and breathless.

“come on my cock this time. prove to me you can do it.”

your mind shut off completely. no thoughts. no fear. just him. just the way his cock dragged inside you, hitting just right. his hand moved up your body, rough and reverent until his fingers brushed over your chest, teasing. and then his thumb rolled over your nipple. palm cupping your breast, kneading.

his other hand slipped under your back, lifting and forcing you to arch into him. he sucked one nipple into his mouth with a low groan that made your walls clamp around him hard.

you screamed. it was too good. his cock, his mouth, his hands — everywhere. his tongue bit your nipple and you sobbed, overwhelmed, drenched, utterly destroyed.

“you’re doing so good, you don’t have to think. i’ll do it for you.”

he dragged his teeth across your nipple again as his hips continued slamming into you, cock swelling inside you. then he brought his thumb in between your bodies, toying with your clit, rubbing harsh circles until your body couldn’t take it.

your second orgasm ripped through you. just eruption. you clutched his shoulders, mouth open, body convulsing against him as the climax burst out of you with a scream.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, hips not slowing.

“just like that. let it all go for me.”

you did. you had to. your thighs were trembling violently. your pussy clenched so tight around him you heard a curse tear from his throat. he didn’t stop. he rode it. let you sob and shake around him, fucking you through it.

his cock was pulsing and relentless, dragging wet and hot inside you as your cunt fluttered around him, overstimulated and soaked. you were beyond thought. your mind—completely gone. your body—his to command. he held your wrists down. you were a mess of tears and cries and raw nerve endings, and you loved it. you were addicted to the high. wanting every second to last longer.

“mark—please—don’t stop—”

“i’m not” he growled. “’i’m not stopping till your body forgets how to do anything but come.”

he pulled out for a quick second. hands gripping your waist hard before he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach. before you could even blink, he was dragging you up onto your knees, forcing your ass in the air, cheek pressed to the mattress.

“face down.” he growled, voice low, breathless, “ass up.”

you obeyed instantly, mind fogged and floating, body pliant and aching. you didn’t care anymore. you weren’t you anymore. you were his. bent to his will. so cock-drunk. your mind a blank page. he was rewriting your system with every thrust, every word, every sound he dragged out of you.

he shoved your knees apart with his thighs, rough hands spreading your cheeks, and then spat down, watching it drip between your folds. his cock nudged your entrance again, already slick from how soaked you were. you whimpered when he teased the head along your slit, grinding it against your oversensitive clit just to watch you shudder.

he leaned in close, voice a hot whisper against your ear, “gonna make up for all those years no one ever made you come,” he rasped, “every single time they fumbled and failed. this pussy’s never gonna remember that.”

and then—he slammed back into you. you screamed into the sheets. the new angle had him deeper, thicker somehow, hitting that spot so brutally your entire body jolted forward.

“mark—fuck—fuck—fuck!,” you moaned, biting down on the sheets, practically drooling.

he didn’t slow. didn’t pause. just gripped your hips and fucked you, hard and fast, his pelvis slapping against your ass with every thrust. the sound of skin on skin filled the room, wet, filthy, relentless.

“listen to that,” he rasped, voice wild now. “listen to what this pussy does for me.”

you couldn’t respond. couldn’t think. could only feel. the stretch felt sharper like this, more urgent. every stroke had you gasping, choking, keening into the mattress. and then—

slap!

you cried out when his palm landed hard on your ass. not cruel, just enough to make you jolt, to send that spike of heat ricocheting up your spine and straight down again, pulsing into your core.

“yeah,” mark breathed, voice cracked open with need, “you like that?”

you nodded, incoherent words slipping from your lips.

another slap! a little harder.

you sobbed, hips bucking back against him, desperate to meet every thrust.

“that’s it,” he growled, pounding into you harder now, the bed frame rocking under the force, “take it. take everything.”

and then his hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his hands wrapped around it. not tight enough to scare you. just tight enough to own you. your choked out moans filling the air. toes curling so hard you swore you’re about to get a cramp.

your third orgasm slammed into you out of nowhere. your body locked up and shattered around him, your cunt clenching so hard you saw white. he let you go as you screamed into the mattress, every nerve on fire, legs shaking violently as pleasure tore through you, raw and final and unrelenting.

— and still, he didn’t stop. mark held you steady as your body writhed, collapsing from the sheer force of your release, but he was relentless, “you don’t stop until i say you do.”

you whimpered something, his name, maybe, or just a breathless plea, but it didn’t matter. he fucked through your orgasm like a man possessed, chasing the aftershocks, turning them into something new. something sharper. overwhelming. your body trembled beneath him, hips twitching, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets. your pussy clenched around him again and again, involuntary, helpless. every drag of his cock sent sparks skittering across your skin.

“you’re shaking.” he groaned, chest pressed to your back now, sweat-slick skin sticking to yours, “gonna make you fucking squirt, baby. i can feel it. you’re right there.”

“no—mark—too much, i can’t do that—,” you try to push him off. try to crawl away. but he was stronger. and he kept his cock pounding inside you.

“yes. you can.” his hand slid down, fingers seeking your clit, rubbing fast and brutal circles that had your legs kicking out, your voice catching in a strangled sob.

“i said face down. ass up.” he reminded you, voice dark and firm as he shoved your head back into the mattress, palm flat between your shoulder blades, keeping you there.

“be good. take it. this is what you came here for.”

the pressure was unbearable, his cock punishing inside you, fingers never letting up on your swollen clit. your mind blanked, eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time and then you reached a high you didn’t even think was humanly possible. something you only saw happen in porn.

a ragged, high-pitched cry tore out of you as your body convulsed, back arching violently before you collapsed into your fourth orgasm. the gush came, hot, wet, explosive. your cunt fluttered and sprayed around him, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you squirted all over his cock, the sheets, the floor. you could barely process it. your brain had gone static. a glitching signal of pleasure.

“fucking amazing,” mark snarled, hips stuttering.

“that’s it. let it all go.” he pulled out just enough to watch you gush again before slamming back in. your whole body jerked like a live wire. you were sobbing now, overstimulated, wrecked, your hands had give up on clawing at the sheets for something to hold onto. there was nothing. nothing but him.

mark cursed, nearly losing his rhythm, “fucking hell—”

he didn’t stop. he kept pounding into your overstimulated cunt, watching your body convulse under him.

“gonna—fuck—i’m gonna come—” his pace stuttering for the first time, hips faltering mid-thrust. you could hear the unraveling in his breath, raw and uneven. his thrusts turned sloppy, deeper, harder. and then, with a strangled moan, he came. his hips slammed into you one last time, cock buried deep as he spilled into the condom with a guttural groan, body jerking with each pulse. he stayed there, breathing ragged, pressed tight against your back, his body shaking with the force of it.

for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the thunder of both your heartbeats. you were barely on your knees, cheek pressed to the sheets, body twitching faintly from aftershocks, cunt still fluttering around the softening length inside you.

mark let out a long breath, low, shaky. he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat and your juices, smearing against the curve of your spine as he slowly eased down.

“you okay?” he murmured finally, voice hoarse, frayed around the edges.

you nodded, too blissed-out to form real words, “yeah. just… holy shit again.”

he chuckled weakly, wrapping his arms around your middle and gently easing you down onto the bed. his cock slipped out slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, already missing the fullness. a laugh slipped from your lips anyway, a disbelieving, breathy sound.

you couldn’t move. not in a bad way. more like your body had melted into the mattress, boneless and warm, every muscle humming with aftershocks. your mind was soft, quiet, the storm of thoughts you usually lived in was gone. for the first time in your life, there was peace, full-bodied, deep, radiating out from the very core of you. like something inside had finally clicked into place.

you’d come. you’d actually come. not faked it. not chased it just to please someone else. not brushed against it only to have it slip away. this time, it hit you full force. not once but four times.

the kind of orgasms that emptied you, pulled sobs from your throat and tears from your eyes and for once you hadn’t cared. you hadn’t flinched. you hadn’t shut down or shrunk into yourself, hadn’t tried to perform or hid or apologize. you’d felt it all.

and somewhere in the middle of all that, you’d actually squirted. your thighs had trembled, you’d felt yourself gush around him, soaking the sheets, your mind and body surrendering with no shame. no fear. no filter. you hadn’t know it could feel like that. like being cracked open and remade. like something holy. your cunt still fluttered with phantom pulses, like your body couldn’t quite believe it either. like it wasn’t ready to let go.

mark lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, his other hand already reaching for the warm towel he’d placed nearby. he flipped you over gently, his touch deliberate and slow. like he wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere but right here. he cleaned you up in silence. careful. focused. he dabbed between your legs with gentle, precise strokes, flinching every time you flinched. “sorry,” he muttered each time, almost apologetic.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly.

you nodded, a small smile on your lips, “better than okay…i feel like i just got reborn.”

that earned a real laugh from him this time, “that’s a new one,” he said with a shake of his head.

you stretched, wincing slightly, sore in all the right ways. everything throbbed but in a way that made you feel alive. present. you turned your head to look at him.

“that was… insane,” you murmured, “i mean, you literally had to destroy me to get me out of my own head.”

mark smiled, brushing hair from your damp forehead, “it wasn’t destruction. it was release. you just needed to shut this little guy off ,” he says, lightly tapping your temple, “and stop being scared to let your body feel.”

your throat tightened, not from embarrassment, but from the truth of it. because that’s exactly what it was. you’d let go. fully. completely.

mark grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, twisted the cap and held it to your lips like it was instinct. “drink. you lost a lot of liquids back there.”

you giggled, then took a few sips, letting him wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb afterward. it should’ve been awkward. but it wasn’t. it was safe.

eventually, mark rose from the bed and helped you sit up slowly, handing you your clothes one piece at a time. you slowly got dressed. you were glowing, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright. alive. awake. soft.

once you were both dressed, mark walked you back to the lounge of the clinic. the lighting had brightened slightly step by step—intentional, maybe, to ease clients back into the world gently.

“thanks,” you said as you walked side by side, your voice a little hoarse, but steady, “for the... comprehensive service.”

his mouth twitched, almost a smile, “neo orgasm clinic prides itself on thorough results.”

“oh, i noticed,” you deadpanned. “i think i saw god.”

mark let out a soft laugh, “i take it your file won’t need another ‘no prior orgasm’ flag.”

you rolled your eyes. “no, i think we can check that one off. multiple times, actually. all thanks to you.”

he cocked his head, the edge of a smirk playing on his lips, “you did the work.”

you snorted, “right. i was just lying there, crying and begging while you—never mind. forget it. you know what you did.”

“professionally, of course,” he said smoothly, “all part of the protocol.”

you looked him up and down, “if that was protocol, i’d hate to see what your personal life looks like.”

his smirk sharpened, almost imperceptibly, “you wouldn’t survive it.”

you raised a brow, “is that a challenge?”

his eyes glinted, “only if you book another appointment.”

you laughed then leaned in slightly, just enough for him to hear, “but seriously, you didn’t just make me orgasm. you made me feel like…like my body finally belongs to me.”

something flickered in his expression, not warmth, not empathy. just... acknowledgment. like a box being ticked. another line in the report. mark’s gaze held yours. there was no smugness, no pride. just warmth. steadiness — a donor who’d done exactly what he promised and only what you needed.

“thank you for trusting the process,” he said simply.

then, with a crooked grin, you added, “i should probably leave a tip. or at least a five-star review.”

he raised an eyebrow in amusement, “tips aren’t required. but reviews help with the rankings.”

“oh, i’ll be specific,” you said, walking toward the door leading to the lounge, “something like: ‘ruined me in under an hour. swore i saw heaven. would recommend.’”

mark tilted his head, quietly chuckling beside you. the door opened. you stepped inside and turned back toward him. “seriously though five star session.”

he nodded once, “glad we could meet your goals.”

you smirked, “gonna be hard to top this one.”

the corner of his mouth curled, sharp and knowing.

“book me again.” he said lowly, voice like velvet, “i’ll try.”

then, offering his hand once more, firm and polite, “it was a pleasure to be your donor, ms. y/n.”

you shook it, firm, “i’ll be your client any day.”

and with one last glance, one last smile, he turned back toward the double doors. and just like that it was over.

✚ END OF SESSION ✚

the door whispered shut behind him, soft and final. you stood in the lounge for a second longer than necessary, trying to get back into reality.

you were still warm. still sore. still…not quite in the world. your legs wobbled slightly, the plush carpet beneath your feet suddenly feeling too soft. too quiet. the silence here was different. this one was polished. the kind that came with good lighting and air purifiers and an undercurrent of expensive professionalism.

you approached the front desk slowly, finding taeyong already tapping away at his tablet, his perfect posture and gel-slicked hair still completely intact, like nothing behind those doors could ruffle him. he glanced up with the kind of smile that had been trained into perfection. not fake. just smooth. comforting. scripted.

“that’ll be charged to the card on file,” he said gently, voice soft enough not to jar you.

you nodded. your voice wasn’t ready yet.

“also, this is for you.” he reached beneath the desk and pulled out a matte black paper bag with subtle silver foil lettering that gleamed when it caught the light:

thank you for trusting neo orgasm clinic with your satisfaction.

you blinked. “what’s this?”

“a small thank-you from our donors,” he said, still smiling, still unbothered — as though this entire exchange was no more intimate than a routine dentist visit. like you weren’t just being fucked to your next life behind those doors.

you took the bag with both hands, still feeling like you were floating slightly outside yourself.

“have a good rest of your evening! we hope to see you again,” taeyong smiled from behind his computer.

you gave him a tired little smile, a soft wave and murmured a polite “thanks,” and turned toward the exit.

you made your way to your car, dropped into the driver’s seat, and opened the bag, curious to see what it holds — inside was a neatly folded hoodie, ultra-soft, white, with bold letters:

ORGASM DONOR

you stared. then snorted. a full bodied laugh punched out of your chest. it was dumb. it was ridiculous. it was perfect. tucked beside it, almost like an afterthought, was a juice box. your laugh came sharper this time.

you popped the straw in, took a long sip and leaned your head back against the seat. let the juice cool your tongue. let the moment wash over you and muttered to yourself, “best. fucking. clinic.”

you pulled your phone out. opened the clinic’s feedback portal. your fingers hovered for a second. then you typed:

released me from the shackles of my mind. came four times. even squirted. lost track of the tears. saw god. 10/10. highly recommend. would let mark destroy me again. professionally, of course.

somewhere behind those pristine white doors, donor mark was already reviewing his next file. another client. another list of goals. another carefully measured beginning.

✚ APPOINTMENT STATUS: COMPLETE ✚

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18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

BONUS: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5.

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an: and the first donor is done! i hope this lived up to the expectation. if you hate it please don’t tell me lmao. this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! i hope you had fun reading it! please don’t take it too seriously :)

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