by Loki Renard
“I’m just wondering why you’re so eager for me to cover up.”
“Because you’ll be getting cold,” he says. “And because I wasn’t sure you knew how to…”
“I know how to shower,” I interrupt him. “I was obviously trying to seduce you.”
“Were you,” he says in a tone I can’t quite place.
“Stupid, obviously. I’m not intellectual and towel knowledgeable enough to be with a man such as yourself.”
He laughs. “You’re adorable,” he says. “I’m going to grab a shower too.”
Adorable. What does that even mean. I don’t want to be adorable right now. I want to be something more than that. I want to be a lot more than that.
“We need to see about getting some more clothes here,” he says. “It’s not normal to wear leotards and joggers every day unless you’re Russian.”
I look at him blankly. I think he was making a joke, but I don’t get it.
“I’m just saying, we’ll pick out some new clothes. Maybe you’d like a dress.”
“Maybe you’d like a dress,” I snap back. “Dresses and skirts are what the Head wears, and she’s a total bitch.”
“Mhm.” I know he wants to lecture me, but he refrains. “I’m going to get cleaned up and then we’ll do some online shopping, I think. Head’s paying. May as well spend.”
He disappears into the shower room, leaving me alone in this weird facsimile of what he tells me is a real place real people live. I distract myself from what I’m pretty sure was my first experience of sexual rejection by walking around, touching things, wondering why people need so much space. If there’s eight billion, they could all live in little cells and save so much room.
I wonder how big the world is. I know there are different countries, because I’ve been there to kill people. And I know that not all houses and places look like this one. I've been in embassies and palaces where everything is covered in gold and servants scurry around. I’ve worn all kinds of clothing to fit in those places.
My version of the world is as a series of rooms. I’m usually not allowed to see where I am until I am on site. I have been on endless planes, but never seen one. They tell me they fly through the air, but I've barely seen the sky.
Tom has been gone what seems like a long time. In a flash of paranoia, I wonder if he has been taken from the shower. The Head can do that. Nothing in her realm is truly real. Walls aren’t walls, rules aren’t rules, freedom isn’t free.
I crack the bathroom door a little, just to make sure this hasn’t all been some horrible mind fuck. He’s there. I can see a flash of arm. It’s not quite enough to reassure me, so I open the door a little wider, push my head in a little further.
Tom is covered in a sheen of water. His body is strong. Not overly muscled, but powerful anyway. I can see everything, including a thick pelt of dark hair at the apex of his thighs, and below that, a thick rod of flesh dangling. His dick. Holy shit, he’s huge.
“Oh my god.”
He wipes the water out of his eyes, seems surprised to see me, then tries to hide it.
“Hey…there,” he says with that smile. “Are you… okay?”
“Uh huh.”
I can’t see any reason to stop staring. I've seen men before, but they were always clothed. I know penises and testicles exist, because men don’t like to be hit there, but I had started to think men had some kind of plastic cup growth down there. They do not. They are very vulnerable and I understand all at once why they don’t want a knee jabbed there.
He stands there, letting me look as the shower water runs over him. I suppose I should say something.
“You look good without your clothes, Doc.”
“Thank you,” he smiles knowingly. Okay. This isn’t probably how women usually approach men, but I don’t have any programming for that. I’m doing the best I can.
I’m getting all those feelings I got when he held me over this thighs. Desire spikes through me. The need to touch him. Feel his body touching me.
“You’re…”
He turns the shower off and steps out, reaching for a towel. He’s not ashamed of his body. He doesn’t try to hide it, but he does casually wrap that towel around his waist, hiding the parts of him I find myself most interested in.
“I want…” I don't know what to say or how to say it. “I want you.”
“You want me?” He cocks his head to the side and takes another towel to dry his hair. “What do you mean?”
How does he not know what I mean? I want him. That’s all I know. There’s a yearning inside me, as if he contains a powerful attractor which I cannot stay away from.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He clarifies the question, making it more insulting and also, sweeter.
“I’m asking for what men do with women. I’ve heard about it. I felt… when you touched me.” I don’t know why my face is flushing with bright heat, but I know I have to say these words or I will die of frustration.
He comes to me, takes me in his arms, and kisses me so thoroughly and tenderly I forget all my shame and discomfort and instead find what I need in his strong embrace. This man is everything to me. He is my lifeline. And as his tongue massages mine and his arms wrap around me to hold me close, I sigh with soft, feminine contentment.
The towel has not survived our entanglement. It lies on the floor and now I see that the soft organ which dangled heavily is now prominent and erect, a thick rod pressing against my belly, throbbing and pulsing with his life.
“I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you,” he says, pushing the hair back from my face as he looks down at me with a tenderness that makes my heart hurt. "This is all new. We are new.”
“I have been on this planet for two decades, and I have never been loved,” I say flatly. “I know you don’t love me, but maybe you could make me feel it. Maybe you could show me what being a woman is, because I’ve never had the chance to know.”
“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He compliments and caresses me at the same time.
“I’m an ugly thing they keep in a cage. I have pretty outsides, but what do they matter.”
“So wise,” he says, bestowing another one of those heart-fluttering kisses on my lips. “Have you been with a man before?”
“No.”
“Then it should be with somebody special,” he says. “Somebody you love.”
“You’re special,” I say, looking into his eyes. “You’re the only person who has ever really cared.”
“I am sure that’s not true,” he says, tracing my lip with the pad of his thumb.
“It is true. You made me feel different the moment you first looked at me. You saw me. Most people don’t see me. They’re either lusting after me, or being afraid of me. You’re different.”
“You’re sweet,” he says, taking me by the hand and drawing me to the bedroom, the one with the blue covers. I don’t know why we’ve changed rooms, some custom I’m not familiar with, just like everything else.
“Lay down,” he says, patting the bed.
“I want to be naked, like you.”
He doesn’t object, so I let my towel fall to the floor. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I wonder if he likes the shape of me.
“Beautiful,” he breathes. “But… Electra. We don’t need to make love tonight. That could be moving too fast. There are other things we can do.”
“Yes, we do.” I reach for his cock, wrap my hand around it and am surprised at how hard it is. It truly is like a hot bone. “I don’t want to be innocent anymore. I don’t want to not know what it’s like to be a woman. And I know you’ll look after me… won’t you?”
“Of course I’ll look after you,” he says, his voice gruff. The grip on his hardness seems to be all I need to take control of him. The moment my fingers wrapped around him, I knew he was mine.
We move together, kiss, touch, grind, press…but then he pulls away gently, and I feel the rush of air be
tween us as cold rejection.
“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping? Don’t you…” I have a horrible sense of sudden shame that he might not want me. Just because my desire has led me to this brazen intimacy, doesn’t mean the doctor wants it. I barely know him. What am I doing?
“This,” he says. “Is a big deal. Do you… know what sex is?”
“Yes, I know what sex is. I saw a diplomat doing it before I…” I make gesture with my thumb across my throat.
“That’s not exactly a healthy introduction to human sexuality,” he says. “We should talk about this.”
Talking is the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to talk. I want to have him inside me. I have instincts which tell me what I need, what he should do to me. My body knows how to give itself to the rock hard cock straining in my hand.
“Let’s not talk. Let’s do.” I push myself against him, arching my back and pressing my bare breasts against his chest. I feel his cock twitch in my hand and I know that I am winning this game of seduction. His eyes, concerned as they are, are also glazed with growing lust.
“It could hurt, Electra. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would it hurt? You can’t hurt me. I’m super.”
“You are super,” he smiles tenderly. “But sex is always tender the first time. If you haven’t experienced it before, your body has a piece of tissue called the…”
“You’re hot,” I interrupt him. “But talking about pieces of tissue is not.”
He chuckles and nuzzles me with his beard, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. “It might not be hot, but I don’t want to frighten you.”
“I’m not afraid of anything. I’m especially not afraid of anything you do. I trust you.”
I never thought I would trust anybody, but I absolutely trust Tom Ares. He is the perfect blend of authority and desire. He’s twice as old as me I’m sure. Old enough to have fathered me, if I’d ever had a father. From the moment we met, he has been looking after me, and he’s still looking after me now.
“I’m glad you trust me,” he says, stroking my hair back from my head and looking down at me with an intense gaze which makes my hips grind.
Tom
She is fucking adorable. I’ve never been with a woman like her before, not even remotely. She’s feisty, she’s sweet, she’s a little bit - okay, a lot broken, but she’s holding it together, and she’s trying to grow into the woman they've tried to stop her becoming. Sex with what amounts to a patient is a taboo among doctors, but she’s so much more than a patient. She’s mine. The Head said it. I own her.
Own.
The word comes with a charge which makes my cock throb in her greedy hand.
“Do you trust me when I tell you we should take this slow?”
Her eyes flash. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. I want you to take my virginity. I want to know what it’s like to have a cock inside me. I want to feel you inside me.”
Jesus. Those filthy words coming out of her mouth make me want to give her exactly what she’s begging for, and to wash her mouth out. Two impulses war within me, a fatherly urge to look after her, keep her innocence intact, and preserve her from the lustful urges coursing through me. The other is to give in to them, to do what is natural between a man and a woman, to be there when she learns what her body is capable of.
Electra
“We'll take this slow,” he murmurs. “You tell me to stop if this hurts, or if you're scared, or any reason. We can stop any time.”
“I don’t care about stopping. I just want to start.”
My pussy is aching painfully, soaked with desire and clenching against nothing at all. I know I’m supposed to be filled. I know his cock is made for me. But Tom insists on taking it painfully, desperately slowly. He caresses me gently, his hands sliding over my shoulders and cupping my breasts. His hands are so big and powerful, but he is gentle with them, as if he knows how sensitive my untouched skin is. I lie back and I let him do what it is men do to women, I bask in the tenderness of his touch and I let myself imagine that I am loved as his lips find my nipples and tease them with light kisses.
I didn’t know what sex would be like. I had an idea it would be rough and intense. The way I’ve heard it spoken about in passing, it almost seemed as though it would be a conquest. If I am being conquered, it is by slow degrees. Tom is working his magic across my body, lulling me into a haze of need as his mouth trails down my stomach and finds the apex of my thighs.
My hips buck when his mouth closes over my clit, but he is still being gentle, still sensitive to my virginal state. I let out a sound I’ve never heard myself make before, an expression of innocent pleasure as the heat of his lips and his tongue begins to bathe my sex with molten heat and I feel my pussy start to flower with its own juices.
I have been wet before. Felt the need to touch myself before, but none of the times I rubbed myself to release were anything like this. I never felt myself so completely enthralled by lust.
“You want this to stop anytime, we’ll stop,” he says, breaking the seal around my clit and the spell.
“Oh my god what are you fucking doing!?” I whine the question at him. He has left my pussy blazing with need just to tell me something I already know. I can stop any man any time doing anything. I’m not afraid of him or what he’s doing, and I don’t need to be treated like a little snowflake… “OW!”
I gasp as his fingers come down across my wet pussy in a swift swat. He spanked me between my thighs. He punished me in the place I’m only supposed to feel pleasure. I am about to curse him out when his fingers clasp gently, but firmly around the bud of my clit, getting my attention and holding me in thrall.
“Language,” he growls softly. “You’ll respect me when you speak.”
“Even in bed?”
“Especially in bed,” he says, making a fresh thrill of excitement go flashing through me. I like the other side of the doctor, the authoritarian, rough man capable of imposing his will on me. It feels completely different when Doctor Ares does it. Any other man tried to do this to me, I’d break his nose. For Tom, I melt.
“Understand?” He pinches my clit just hard enough to make me nod, then pulls his fingers away from that tight bud and instead pushes them inside me just a fraction, two thick male intrusions spreading my body.
The sound I make is post-verbal. I love the way this feels. I love lying here, spread for the doctor, being examined by him in the most intimate way. He knows my body. He owns my body. And he is claiming me with an expert touch which leaves me quivering.
I am tight, but he is patient. He twists his fingers a fraction, lets me feel the way my body moves with his. There is something inside me, a barrier which keeps him out, but not for long. It is melting, tearing, slipping away in the face of the gentle but insistent pressure he is applying.
He pulls away, but I reach down for his wrist and try to pull him back inside me. I don’t want him to stop just because I haven’t had a man before. I want him to break down the barrier inside me. I want him to take me and make me feel all the things I can sense welling inside. It is raw instinct which drives me to writhe and grasp and…
“Easy,” he purrs. “We’re taking this slow, remember?”
“I don’t want it slow,” I whine as he pulls his hand free and leaves me empty.
“You need it slow,” he says, the slight hint of a growl in his voice. He is all authority now, firm, but calm as he rubs the flat of his hand over my pussy, rubbing me gently, settling my carnal complaints. “I want you to know there’s a lot we can do that doesn’t involve the part of me you grabbed.”
“I want that part of you. I want all of you. If you get inside me, maybe I’ll be…”
“What,” he says, prompting me when I trail off.
“Maybe I’ll be normal.”
“Normal isn’t anything,” he says, cupping and holding my pussy. “Nobody is normal.”
“But I am so weird. I know. I want to be normaler. I want to h
ave all the experiences I’m supposed to have.”
“So you want to have sex just not to be left out of having sex,” he smiles. “There’s nothing more normal than that, but it’s not a good reason to do it.”
“Do you not want to be with me?”
“I want to be with you,” he reassures me. “But for the right reasons, not because you feel bad about yourself, or because you think having sex will fix something. You should have sex because you want to be connected with another person, and experience that side of them.”
“I do want to experience that side of you,” I assure him, grinding my hips into his palm. I want to be connected to Tom. From the first moment I met him, I think I knew he might be my way out. I need to be with him. “Please,” I whimper. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Making you beg is just one of the things I intend to do to you,” he smirks sexily. “You’ve got a spoiled streak, Electra. It would be good for you to beg a little.”
“Mean,” I whimper.
“Not mean, just teaching you what you need to learn,” he says, rubbing me gently. “You are soaked.”
“Because you keep denying me, what I need.”
“Do I?” He makes a soft little sound of pseudo sympathy. “Are you not getting everything you want right away? Spoiled little brat.”
The edge is taken off his censure by the way he strokes me, his fingers caressing along my lips, occasionally dabbing over my clit ever so lightly. The sensations he is creating are growing, swirling, combining, making me tight and hot and wet and I can barely stand it, but I have to, because I know if I do what I want to do and try to make him fuck me - he won’t.
This is all happening on the doctor’s terms. I have to be good for him, spread my thighs and hope he gives me what I didn’t know I had been craving for a very long time.
“Good girl,” he praises, parting my lower lips with his fingers, toying with my pussy like a cat with a mouse, except this mouse wants to be eaten. I want him to claim me, consume me. I want him to make these tingles of pleasure surge over me until there is nothing left.
“Please,” I whimper. “I need you.”
