I love women who like this view.
Those who stay still at my table.
Those who allow themselves to be tied up to be better examined.
Beautiful dolls, works of art that I must keep sterilized at all times.
Her smooth skin, a beautiful canvas, waiting to be traced by my scalpel.
Precious gems that I must handle with care, even as I go about delivering pain with my instruments.
Sweets filled with liquid rubies that stain my fingers as I study them
They call me doctor, professor, or master, but the truth is, I've become their slave. Their moans, their screams, their reactions to my procedures have enslaved me.
Women of beautiful soul, if I hold you tightly to my table it is because the study of your anatomy keeps me very busy and has held me to your side.
Women of exquisite being, if I anesthetize you or administer barbiturates it is because you have become my drug and I can't live without you anymore.
I'm addicted to you lovely ladies and I don't want to detox.
Her body, the best amusement park. Her moans, the best music to my ears.
I love women who are brave and daring enough to become my beloved patients, my cherished subjects.
