First Intervention Session

George waited in his van for Rebecca's scheduled "intervention" appointment. He'd spent the morning preparing, which mainly involved purchasing new latex gloves and cleaning the examination table. Presentation mattered—the clinical setting reinforced the legitimacy of his fabricated authority.

At precisely 2 PM, he spotted Rebecca approaching across the parking lot. As instructed, she was wearing a skirt—a modest knee-length gray one that suited her professional appearance. Her face betrayed her anxiety, eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching as she approached the van.

"Right on time," George greeted her as she climbed inside. "Punctuality is an excellent sign of commitment to the intervention process."

Rebecca nodded nervously, smoothing her skirt as she sat on the edge of the examination table. "I've been thinking about the assessment results," she began hesitantly. "Are you sure they were... accurate? I've never cheated on my husband."

"Not yet," George corrected, closing the van door and ensuring the privacy screens were in place over the windows. "The assessment doesn't measure past behavior—it predicts future vulnerability based on physiological responses. And yours were some of the most concerning I've seen recently."

Rebecca paled slightly. "So what does this intervention involve exactly?"

"The intervention process has three phases," George explained, adopting his clinical tone as he moved to his small desk. "Desensitization, recalibration, and stabilization. Today we'll begin with desensitization."

He turned to face her, holding a clipboard with official-looking forms attached. "First, I need to confirm: did you follow the preparation instructions? No underwear?"

Rebecca blushed furiously but nodded. "Yes, as you said. It felt... strange coming here like that."

"That discomfort is part of the process," George assured her. "Intervention requires pushing physical and psychological boundaries in a controlled environment to reduce their power in uncontrolled settings."

He pulled on a pair of latex gloves with practiced precision. "I'll need to verify compliance before we begin."

Rebecca's blush deepened as George approached her, clipboard in hand. "Stand up please, and lift your skirt to hip level."

"Here?" Rebecca whispered, despite them being alone in the van.

"Hesitation indicates resistance to intervention," George noted on his clipboard, though he was merely making random marks. "Remember, Rebecca, this process only works with full compliance."

After a moment's hesitation, Rebecca stood and slowly raised her skirt, revealing her bare pussy to George's appreciative gaze. He made a show of examining her clinically, though his cock was already hardening in his pants.

"Excellent compliance," he noted, gesturing for her to sit again. "Now, the desensitization phase addresses your strong physiological response to non-spouse touch. Essentially, we need to reduce the novelty factor that drives infidelity risk."

"How do we do that?" Rebecca asked, letting her skirt fall back into place.

"Through controlled exposure," George explained. "By experiencing non-spouse sexual contact in this monitored, clinical setting, your body learns to process these sensations without the heightened arousal response that leads to impulsive decisions."

It was complete pseudoscientific nonsense, but delivered with enough authority and technical language to sound plausible to Rebecca's manipulated perception.

"So we... do it again?" Rebecca asked, her voice small.

"Not exactly," George clarified. "Intervention requires different sexual experiences than assessment. Today's protocol focuses on oral desensitization."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "Oral? You mean..."

"Yes," George confirmed, unbuckling his belt. "Oral fixation is one of the primary gateways to infidelity. By processing non-spouse oral contact in this controlled setting, we diminish its power as a temptation trigger."

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his already semi-hard cock. "The procedure requires you to perform oral stimulation while I monitor your physiological responses and provide corrective feedback."

Rebecca stared at his exposed member, conflict evident in her expression. "I don't know if I can—"

"Rebecca," George interrupted firmly, "your assessment placed you in the critical risk category. Without proper intervention, infidelity is statistically inevitable. Is that what you want?"

"No," she whispered, her resistance crumbling under the weight of his manipulated logic.

"Then proceed with the protocol," George instructed, stepping closer until his cock was just inches from her face. "Remember to approach this clinically—this is medical intervention, not a sexual encounter."

The absurdity of this statement while his erect penis bobbed in front of her face didn't register with Rebecca, thanks to George's manipulative abilities. Instead, she hesitantly leaned forward and took his cock in her hand.

"Begin with standard oral assessment," George directed. "I'll monitor your technique for vulnerability indicators."

Rebecca reluctantly parted her lips and took the head of his cock into her mouth. George suppressed a groan of pleasure, maintaining his clinical facade despite the warm, wet sensation engulfing him.

"Moderate suction, circular tongue motion," he observed aloud, as if dictating notes. "Technique indicates previous non-spouse experience or high aptitude—both are risk factors."

Rebecca pulled back immediately, looking up at him in alarm. "I've never been with anyone but my husband!"

"Your oral response patterns suggest otherwise," George countered smoothly. "But that's precisely why we're conducting this intervention. Continue with increased depth."

Reluctantly, Rebecca returned to her task, taking more of George's length into her mouth. He placed a hand on the back of her head, not forcing her but providing "guidance."

"Depth tolerance: above average," he noted. "Another concerning indicator. Let's test gag reflex response."

Without warning, he pushed his hips forward, forcing an extra inch into her mouth. Rebecca gagged slightly but adjusted quickly.

"Rapid gag suppression," George observed. "Critical vulnerability factor. This confirms the assessment findings."

Rebecca continued sucking his cock, her technique improving as she fell into a rhythm despite her initial ****. George could feel her warming to the task, her tongue becoming more active against his shaft.

"I'm noting increased enthusiasm," he commented. "This is exactly the response pattern that creates infidelity vulnerability. In an uncontrolled environment, this would likely progress to full sexual contact."

He began thrusting gently into her mouth, watching as her lips stretched around his girth. Rebecca's hands had moved to his thighs for support, her head bobbing in concert with his movements.

"For the next phase of desensitization, I need to test your oral containment capacity," George announced, his breathing becoming heavier. "This measures your response to non-spouse ejaculation, a primary infidelity trigger."

Rebecca's eyes widened, and she tried to pull back, but George's hand on her head held her in place.

"Resistance to protocol completion resets intervention progress," he warned. "Do you want to start over next session?"

Reluctantly, Rebecca continued, her mouth working his cock with increasing skill. George could feel his orgasm approaching, the sight of this respectable married woman on her knees before him pushing him closer to the edge.

"Preparing for containment assessment," he gasped, his clinical facade slipping slightly as pleasure built. "Remember to maintain full containment for accurate measurement."

Before Rebecca could process what was happening, George's cock began pulsing in her mouth, shooting jets of hot cum onto her tongue and against the back of her throat. Surprised, she attempted to pull away, but his hand kept her in place.

"Full containment!" he reminded her sharply.

Rebecca had **** but to swallow his load, her throat working as she desperately tried to keep up with the volume. When George finally released her head, she gasped for air, a trickle of semen escaping the corner of her mouth.

"Containment efficiency: 92%," George noted, watching as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Above threshold, but room for improvement."

Rebecca looked up at him, her expression a mixture of shame, confusion, and lingering arousal. "Did I... pass?"