by West, Megan
“Yes, I’d like to continue,” she said softly.
He smiled. “Good.”
Thinking back to the last time, she remembered something else that had come before the actual stretching.
“Are you going to punish me again?” she asked.
Dr. Franklin got a thoughtful look on his face. “Hm. Good question. Tell me, in your dreams, does punishment often precede anal intercourse?”
Blushing anew, she answered, “always.”
“I see. Well then, I think it would be best to carry on in that manner. What type of punishment from your dreams would you say has the greatest impact on your libido after you awaken?”
Jennifer had to think back. By now, there had been so many dreams it was hard for her to pin point an exact one. But the one that sprang immediately to mind was one of the more recent ones.
“Ah, I see you remembered. Your vagina has excreted a new flow of lubrication.”
“Oh, geez,” she muttered, embarrassed again. It was too much how well he could read her body.
“Now, Jennifer. What kind of doctor would I be if I couldn’t understand your physical reactions? It is nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. Be thankful you’re healthy and your body responds in a positive manner.”
She knew he was right, but this was going to take some getting used to. She had always been shy with her body. While his friendly, clinical manner put her at ease, it was still all very new to her.
“Do you think you can tell me about your dream?”
Looking up at the ceiling again, she spoke. “I dreamt I messed up really bad at work. Instead of writing me up or firing me, the boss whipped me with his belt.”
“Okay. That’s good. Tell me more.”
Her face held a steady 100 degrees of embarrassment, she continued in a monotonous, detached tone, hating even thinking about the dream and how demeaning to her it was, especially since it had turned her on so much.
“He forced me over his desk and told me if I wanted to keep my job, I had to let him hit me with his belt. Then he lifted up my skirt and started striking me. In the dream it hurt a lot. I cried and cried. Then he lowered my underwear and whipped me more. Finally, when he was done, he ass fucked me. I orgasmed nearly instantly in the dream.”
Dr. Franklin patted her foot in approval. “Excellent. Thank you. I know that was hard for you.”
Jennifer stayed silent, staring at the ceiling even though she knew the doctor was waiting for a reply.
“Well, then. What do you think? Shall we try the belt?”
She had been afraid that was where this was going. How could she actually ask him to hit her with his belt? There’s no way it could possibly feel good. It would hurt too much. But he acted like it was normal, and she had loved it so much in the dream.
Finally looking at him, she asked, “Won’t it hurt?”
“It will,” he answered. “It will leave you with stripe marks on your rear end, and you’ll probably scream and cry. Not to mention how difficult it will be to sit down for the next several days.”
Growing agitated she sat up and threw her hands in the air. “Then why on earth would I want you to do that to me?”
“Because,” he said, taking her hands in his and staring into her eyes, “there’s something special inside you that will like it. There’s a part of you that takes that pain and elevates it to something beyond mere pleasure. You will experience a rush of endorphins like you never have before and even possibly enter a sort of wakeful dream state where the strike of the belt seems like it’s reaching you through ten layers of cotton.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened as she listened to him explain it all in a low, seductive voice. Somehow he made her want to feel the belt against her skin. He made the experience sound worth the pain.
“I don’t know,” she stammered.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Strangely, she did. Even though this was only her second appointment and even though he had done things to her well outside the typical medical exam, she trusted him.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then let me share this with you. Everything we’ve done tonight and the previous night has indicated you will respond to this positively. I will give you five stripes with the belt and then have sex with you anally. You will most likely orgasm at least two times. And, when we’re done, you’ll be physically and emotionally drained. I will help you with that too. You will stay here with me until you’re able to function safely and discuss everything we did in a constructive manner. By the time you leave here, you’ll know if this is your sexuality.”
Mesmerized by his confidence, she nodded slowly. “Okay. I consent.”
He smiled at her. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. Go ahead and lie back down. Feet flat on the table, butt hanging over the end. I’m going to stretch you and then insert a plug to help you stay open while we do the punishment.”
Gulping, she laid down as he asked. He stretched her ass exactly as he had the other night. Only this time, once he’d gotten her comfortable with two fingers, he lubed up a black, silicone anal plug and slid it into her body, tapping the flange on the bottom once it was in place.
“You did well,” he said when he was done. “Now up on your hands and knees, please.”
She flipped over and got up on all fours. When Dr. Franklin started lowering the table to put her at the right height, she had the same exact feeling like when she was on a roller coaster a date had talked her into going on. She was terrified and when she got to the top of the hill, nearly in a panic state. But then the coaster had gone over the hill, and she had ended up enjoying the ride.
Still, the part she remembered most of all was the sheer terror of the moment before going down the big drop. And now there wasn’t a bar locking her in or the complete lack of an exit.
“Uhm, I don’t think I can do this after all,” she stammered out while scrambling off the table.
He had already taken off his belt and stood holding it. But he didn’t lose patience with her or seem irritated.
“How about you drape yourself over the table instead? That will be more like your dream. Here, let me raise it back up a little.”
Jennifer wanted only to run from the room, but when he patted the table expectantly and looked her in the eye, she found she didn’t have it in her to defy him. The next thing she knew, she was bent over the table, her ass in the air.
Perhaps knowing if he said anything else, she might bolt again, there was no further warning before the first strike. It came down hard across her ass and she screamed, reaching back and grabbing her cheeks in her hands.
“Ow! That hurts!”
He didn’t answer her, but took her wrists in his hand and held them over her back. Then, he hit her again, even harder this time. Her reaction was the same, but some little tiny part of her brain woke up and sent a thrill down her back. It was as elusive as a piece of dust in the sunshine, but she felt it nonetheless.
The belt fell again and again. She was sobbing now, her ass feeling like it was being feasted on by hundreds of fire ants.
“You’re doing excellent. Only one more,” he said.
And then the final blow fell. She had survived. Her mind was reeling and there wasn’t a coherent thought in her head, but she had lived through it.
Dimly she was aware of the doctor tossing aside the belt and getting into position behind her. The plug was removed and the head of his cock started to push and prod at her ass. She barely felt it thanks to the pain on her ass. He had no problem slipping all the way in even though her ass now felt more stretched than ever before.
Once he was balls deep, he grabbed her hips and started moving slowly in and out. With everything going on in her head and her body, she couldn't really separate one sensation from the rest. Yes, she had a cock in her ass, a place no cock had never been before. But she also had red welts on her rear end that were getting more inflamed each time he thrust and her skin met his pelvis.
She had been terrified her dreams would only prove to be ridiculous manifestations from some unknown stimulus. But the exact opposite was true. And even though the complexity of what she was feeling far exceeded what she’d been able to come up with in her dreams since, prior to tonight, her brain had no memories to draw from, she still loved it and knew it was her.
He fucked her ass like he’d done her pussy and mouth before, with a robotic steady rhythm. With zero clit or pussy stimulation, she felt a very similar pressure like when she would be coming soon. Except it was so different. She longed for something to touch directly on her pussy, but the climax kept building anyway. The angle of his cock managed to stimulate a sensitive spot.
Desperately hoping he wouldn’t stop like before, she clenched up her pussy muscles. Instantly, everything ramped up. Her orgasm was just about there, then was crashing over her in the next stuttering breath, drowning her in a tumultuous wave.
She screamed out as her fingers dug deep into the cushion. She clutched for dear life. He kept on fucking her, like he hadn’t even noticed she’d come.
And then something happened that had never happened to her before—a new climax immediately started to build inside her, and it came on even quicker than the last. Ten strokes of the doctor’s cock later, she was coming again.
And that was when the stoic, clinical, professional doctor finally let himself go. With a deep, quiet grunt and an extra tight grip on her hips, he came inside her, clutching her body as close to his as he could. For only that moment, she felt like something more than just a patient to him. She smiled, feeling like she had done something absolutely amazing for more than just herself.
Like he promised her, he didn’t let her go until she was rock steady and capable of coherent thought. He gave her water and cookies as if she just donated blood. When she was ready, they talked for quite some time about what all they had done.
She left Dr. Franklin’s office feeling like she was entering a whole new world, one that made her previous existence seem like it had happened on a planet far away. Now she saw her life in its true light and was ready to move forward into uncharted territory.
A couple years later she ran into Dr. Franklin at a party. He was with a pet slave girl, and Jennifer was with her dominant of one year. That night the four of them celebrated anew Dr. Franklin’s successful work with Jennifer...but that is another story for another time.
*Second Free Bonus Story *
“You really should come tonight. It’s my first night working out on the floor.”
Katherine stirred her tea with a spoon and looked up at her friend. “I don’t know, Bethany. It’s not really my thing. I would feel really awkward.”
“You don’t have to stay long if you’re that uncomfortable. Everyone is really nice and respectful, though. You might be able to write an article about it, maybe?”
Katherine laughed. “Maybe. I can just see my editor’s face.” She took a bite out of her muffin, and waved a hand in the air. “My night at an S&M club. Exactly the right thing for next month’s issue.”
“It’s really not as weird as you think it is.”
Katherine raised an eyebrow.
Bethany sighed. “Okay, it’s a little weird. But a…fun kind of weird. Like I said, everyone is really nice. They don’t make you feel pressured to join in or anything.”
"Let me see how I feel tonight. I’ve got a long day ahead of me. Errands, research to do at the library, an article to start. If I’m feeling up to it, I’ll come out.” Bethany grinned as Katherine held up a hand. “If I feel up to it. I very well might feel up to a night in with the rest of my bottle of wine and Netflix.”
“Fair enough. I really do hope you stop by, though. I hear an interesting visitor might be in town.”
“Interesting…like the President?” Katherine asked, a little sarcastically.
“Interesting, as in Andrew Blake.” Bethany leaned in a little as she said it, her voice low. “It’s a big secret. I shouldn’t be saying anything. It’s just a rumor that’s been flying around the club, but supposedly he’s really into the BDSM scene, he just doesn’t go to any of the clubs, unless he’s in Europe. But word is that he’s friends with the owner of this club, so he’s coming for the grand re-opening after the renovation. It could all just be a rumor, of course.”
“Bethany, you know if I see him there, that would be a hell of an article.”
“I thought you worked for a fashion magazine, not a gossip mag.”
“I do!” Katherine insisted, looking a little hurt. “But that article would be a hell of a lot more appealing to my editor if Andrew Blake’s name was in it. He owns a share in almost every business in this city…and in a city this size, that’s quite a lot.”
“It also might hurt his business. We’re all about freeing people, not making them feel like they have to hide.” Bethany’s face got serious. “Katherine, if you see him there, please don’t write about it.”
“This is San Francisco. He’d probably have ten more offers by the morning if his cohorts knew he was into freaky shit.”
Bethany sighed. “You might be right. But still…I hope you’ll come just for fun and not because you think you can get a scoop out of it.”
“And here, earlier, you were encouraging me.”
“That’s before I remembered who might be there.”
Katherine set her cup of tea down and pushed it, and the empty plate that had held her muffin, over to the edge of the table. “Alright. Well, if I am going to maybe show up tonight, I better get moving on the things I need to get done today. And you should probably take a nap before your big night.”
Bethany smiled. “You’re probably right.”
Katherine stood and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you and let you know if I’m coming, okay?”
“Okay.”
***
By eight that evening, Katherine still hadn’t decided whether she should go. She mulled it over as she showered, recognizing that she was going through her ‘going out’ motions even as she tried to talk herself into staying home. She washed her hair, shaved her legs; even rubbed her skin down with an exfoliating scrub before washing off and throwing her wet hair up in a towel.
“What am I even going to wear?” she moaned to herself, walking naked to the closet and flinging it open, staring at the contents inside.
What did one wear to the re-opening night of one of the premiere BDSM clubs in San Francisco? Bethany had been training there for nearly a month as a professional dominatrix, and despite her prior kink and fetish-model resume—which was impressively long—she had to interview three times and commit to the training program before they would offer her a full-time job. The club was apparently no joke.
Katherine rarely even went to regular nightclubs. She wasn’t sure she could hack even an hour in this place.
The whole concept behind S&M confused her more than a little. She knew people, acquaintances really, who were into it. And, of course, there was Bethany. Privately, she supposed that the idea of letting someone take charge, of being trapped in a scenario where there was nothing for her to do but feel…it did seem alluring. But she had a hard enough time finding men for regular sex that weren’t total assholes. She wasn’t sure that men who enjoyed dealing out pain would be any better—and she suspected they might be significantly worse.
She decided to go simple. She didn’t have a lot in the way of skimpy clothing, since her preferred night out was a good gastropub and maybe some live music or a walk through the city to the next bar that had good beer on tap. She liked the kind of nights that involved a pair of worn-in, rolled-up chinos and a loose blouse, with flats for walking. But she supposed, for Bethany, she could make the effort.
She pulled a short black dress from the back of her closet. S
he had maybe worn it once before, to a nightclub opening that one of her friends had been a DJ for. She was sensing a theme here.
It hit mid-thigh, and the fabric was skin-tight. She silently thanked herself for having been going to the gym regularly. The dress had thin straps, and a deep v that definitely revealed more than she was used to.
She rummaged through her underwear drawer, settling on a black silk thong that wouldn’t leave any lines in the tight dress, and a leopard print push-up bra. She shimmied into the dress, hopping up and down once or twice, and tugged up the zipper with a little effort. Once she was in, however, she had to admit she looked pretty good. It was a clear departure from her usual wardrobe—either work or casual. She settled for brushing out her thick, dark brown hair and curling the ends. Anything else wouldn’t last when she got outside, anyway.
