The Consultant’s Postpartum Trap - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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Ethan Roscente moved with surgical precision—every motion deliberate, every touch purposeful. His hands never strayed, and his technique worked like magic.
After his treatment, my engorgement eased considerably.
But the relief didn't last. Within days, the blockage returned with a vengeance.
My husband had just left for a business trip. I'd planned to wait for his return before scheduling another session with Ethan, but the pain became unbearable.
I called my best friend, hoping she'd keep me company.
She agreed immediately—only to bail last minute when Ethan was due to arrive.
"Relax and enjoy it!" she teased over the phone. "Dr. Roscente's hands are legendary. He'll have you floating on cloud nine—"
Her tone turned downright scandalous, so I ended the call.
Ethan stood nearby, patiently waiting.
Noticing my flushed cheeks, he offered a reassuring smile. "There's no need for embarrassment, Mrs. Laurent. To me, this is purely clinical."
I remembered how much more effective his methods were compared to the lactation consultant I'd hired before.
Besides, the living room had security cameras. He wouldn't risk anything improper.
"Thank you, Doctor," I murmured, still slightly pink.
He prepped the sofa as before. Even after our first session, I couldn't shake my self-consciousness.
With the blindfold on, every sensation amplified. His touch became my entire world.
Just like last time, the rhythmic pressure lulled me toward drowsiness.
Then—an unexpected coolness against my skin.
I jerked, fingers flying to the blindfold.
"Don't be alarmed," Ethan soothed. "It's a specialized oil I developed. Helps with stubborn blockages."
I mentally chided myself for overreacting.
The oil started cool but warmed rapidly under his hands, spreading heat through my flesh.
Combined with his perfect pressure—firm yet gentle—the sensations grew more intense than our first session.
He began with featherlight strokes along the periphery, gradually working deeper. The oil made every glide effortless.
My body melted into the cushions, mind growing foggy.
Occasionally, I felt the solid weight of his forearm brush against me.
Heat coiled low in my belly, and I unconsciously squeezed my thighs together.
My chest burned, swollen and oversensitive. My entire body felt feverish.
"What's in this oil?" I gasped. "It's so... intense—ah!"
His grip suddenly tightened, wringing a startled cry from me.
Ethan's breath warmed my ear.
"My mentor's proprietary blend, Mrs. Laurent. The heat promotes circulation."
The proximity made me shiver.
My ears were excruciatingly sensitive. His exhale sent another wave of weakness through me.
The pleasure mounted, sharper now.
"You seem to be producing your own lubrication, Mrs. Laurent~"
Then—his fingers slipped beneath my panties, stroking without mercy.
After his treatment, my engorgement eased considerably.
But the relief didn't last. Within days, the blockage returned with a vengeance.
My husband had just left for a business trip. I'd planned to wait for his return before scheduling another session with Ethan, but the pain became unbearable.
I called my best friend, hoping she'd keep me company.
She agreed immediately—only to bail last minute when Ethan was due to arrive.
"Relax and enjoy it!" she teased over the phone. "Dr. Roscente's hands are legendary. He'll have you floating on cloud nine—"
Her tone turned downright scandalous, so I ended the call.
Ethan stood nearby, patiently waiting.
Noticing my flushed cheeks, he offered a reassuring smile. "There's no need for embarrassment, Mrs. Laurent. To me, this is purely clinical."
I remembered how much more effective his methods were compared to the lactation consultant I'd hired before.
Besides, the living room had security cameras. He wouldn't risk anything improper.
"Thank you, Doctor," I murmured, still slightly pink.
He prepped the sofa as before. Even after our first session, I couldn't shake my self-consciousness.
With the blindfold on, every sensation amplified. His touch became my entire world.
Just like last time, the rhythmic pressure lulled me toward drowsiness.
Then—an unexpected coolness against my skin.
I jerked, fingers flying to the blindfold.
"Don't be alarmed," Ethan soothed. "It's a specialized oil I developed. Helps with stubborn blockages."
I mentally chided myself for overreacting.
The oil started cool but warmed rapidly under his hands, spreading heat through my flesh.
Combined with his perfect pressure—firm yet gentle—the sensations grew more intense than our first session.
He began with featherlight strokes along the periphery, gradually working deeper. The oil made every glide effortless.
My body melted into the cushions, mind growing foggy.
Occasionally, I felt the solid weight of his forearm brush against me.
Heat coiled low in my belly, and I unconsciously squeezed my thighs together.
My chest burned, swollen and oversensitive. My entire body felt feverish.
"What's in this oil?" I gasped. "It's so... intense—ah!"
His grip suddenly tightened, wringing a startled cry from me.
Ethan's breath warmed my ear.
"My mentor's proprietary blend, Mrs. Laurent. The heat promotes circulation."
The proximity made me shiver.
My ears were excruciatingly sensitive. His exhale sent another wave of weakness through me.
The pleasure mounted, sharper now.
"You seem to be producing your own lubrication, Mrs. Laurent~"
Then—his fingers slipped beneath my panties, stroking without mercy.
End of The Consultant’s Postpartum Trap Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Consultant’s Postpartum Trap book page.