About a week after my appointment, Kim texted me, ‘How are you feeling?’

I replied, ‘Much better. Thanks’.

‘I’d like to check-in on you’, she responded, ‘Ok if I drop by for a house call after work?’.

‘Sure’, I replied. I had replayed the scene in the exam room many times in my mind - the shots, the unexpected hand job. The tightness at the injection sites that had gloriously lasted for a few days stoking my fantasies.

‘Ok. See you about 6’, she answered.

The knock at the door came a few minutes early. She was still wearing scrubs from the clinic and holding a small bag. I was puzzled by the bag, thinking this was just a perfunctory visual exam. She looked around like she was in search of something specific. She apparently saw was she was seeking in the kitchen and led me that way. She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down.

“What’s up,” I queried.

“You were supposed to check-in with me the next day after your appointment and never did”, she scolded. “Disobeying medical advice like that is a punishable offense in my book.” She extracted a hairbrush from the mystery bag.

“Punishable?” I asked, still unclear what she had in mind.

“You’re gonna get spanking,” she declared and crooked her finger, beckoning me closer. She brusquely undid my pants and pulled me over her lap. The pain from the brush whacking my bare butt was exquisite. I had already begun to get stiff when she lowered my pants and the friction against her thighs was enhancing my arousal. My ass felt like I had sat on a hot stove when she finally paused. I felt her touch my cheeks with her fingers, inspecting her work and she declared, “That’s enough for now…but it might require a second dose if your behavior doesn’t improve.”

I stood and rubbed my throbbing bottom, my fully stiff erection wobbling in response. “Go get undressed and lay down on your bed,” she ordered.

I did as instructed and she came in a few moments later to find me on my back, emulating a field with a lone flag pole. “Face down, silly,” she chided.

I rolled over and heard her fiddling with something. I looked over my shoulder and she had set-up a tripod and clipped in her iPhone. She handed me an iPad and initiated a FaceTime session, showing me the view of my red, freshly spanked backside via the phone. She extracted more gear from her bag: a thermometer (I kinda knew where that was headed), a few vials of liquid medications and two rather large syringes. She put a dab of lube on the thermometer and I watched on the screen as she parted my butt cheeks and poked the instrument into my asshole. She gave the crest of my bottom a sharp swat. “I will come back to that later,” she noted and picked up one of the syringes.

“That looks huge,” I remarked. The shots at the clinic had been with fairly small syringes.

“Yep. The shots you got at the office were 2 mL,” she noted, saying the units, ‘M’, ‘L’. “These are 10 - they’re gonna get half filled with vitamins B-12 and C, sterile water for the other halves.” She set about filling the syringes and then laid them on the bedside table just inches from my face, so I had a close-up look at the long needles that would soon be poking my already sore bum.

“Ok,” she said extracting the thermometer and checking the temp before picking up one of the syringes. I watched her swab my right cheek with alcohol and then swiftly stab the needle into me. I was odd watching my butt cheek clench in response to the penetration. She slowly depressed the plunger and I felt a gentle warm glow develop deep in my muscle. “How does that feel,” she asked.

“Ok,” I replied. “Definitely not as intense as the other shots.”

“Those were really thick and pumping that serum - even slowly - creates discomfort,” she explained. “I’m gonna do something very different with this other,” she said flatly picking up the second shot. I watched her swab my left cheek and bring the needle into contact with my skin and then push very slowly, rather than the quick dart-like motion on the first shot. My skin deflected under the sharp point, creating a growing sting until the tension was too much and the needle penetrated the skin. She then quickly dumped the entire volume into my glute, creating a deep burning sensation. “Left side hurt more than the right?” she questioned.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” I replied.

“Good,” she noted with a smile. “Roll over,” she instructed. When I had repositioned myself, she knelt on the bed between my legs and gently stroked me, backing away when she sensed I was approaching apex. After a few approaches to the edge, she teased me slowly until I was at the point of no return and I unloaded, mostly onto myself. At the streams subsided, she licked the head, capturing the last minor pulses seeping from me.

As she was leaving, she warned, “Make sure you call or text me tomorrow. Don’t forget to check-in or I’ll be back with my brush.”

I contemplated intentionally disregarding her instructions just to force another house call, as this one had been splendid.