by N. J Ross
Your Husband,
Lord Derick Barclay
A mental malady! Unbelievable! He loved what I did to him last night, and what had he said to the crowd, that he was going to stretch my snatch open with his member? He was sending me off to some quack now, to be disciplined somehow? What a disgrace! Just then, there was a rap at the door, followed by the voice of our manservant, Jenkins.
‘Ahem, m’lady, a carriage awaits, set for Doctor Smith’s practice.’
Very well, I would go along with his perverse scheme. I must confess, at that moment, I was still burning with lust for the cock I had seen between my husband’s legs last night. If only he’d woken up, stayed hard for long enough to push it between my pussy lips, perhaps I wouldn’t have this insatiable desire now. I dressed and walked down with Jenkins to the carriage. After a long ride into London, I was waiting outside a very swanky-looking house. It was part of a terraced row, and had a plaque on the door:
Doctor Jenkins
Women’s Doctor
I prepared myself, and then knocked on the door. After a short wait, a man dressed in servant’s clothes answered the door.
‘Lady Barclay?’ he said. Gosh, I suppose that was my name, now.
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘Follow me,’ he said, ‘the doctor is waiting.’
Chapter 10
The servant led me down a corridor, and took me to a grand old oak door. He pushed it, and as the door swung open, the sight that greeted me was shocking, to say the least. The doctor’s surgery was beautiful. An elegant, highly polished walnut-wood table sat in the centre of a truly opulent space. A full-sized skeleton hung in the corner of the room, with anatomical charts hanging either side of it. There was a rich, thick, red carpet on the floor, something I’d never seen in a doctor’s surgery before. On the carpet stood an old-fashioned globe of the world, that looked old and worn. There were a couple of large, wardrobe-like containers placed around the edges of the surgery, as well as what looked like an antique examination table, surrounded by round surgical lights on chrome-plated struts and small metallic plates of surgical instruments. It smelled amazing, a mixture of the cool, clean smell of disinfectant and some other, weird aromas; a hot smell of warm, toasted oats.
Behind the table, on a polished, wooden throne, sat a man. I presumed that this was Doctor Smith. He was an impressive-looking man, and in fact rather handsome for a white man. He must have been in his late thirties I’d say, with pale skin, serious eyes, and an extremely severe glower on his face. He had a shock of blonde hair, and he looked about as different to my husband as you could imagine. Strapped to his head was a doctor’s mirror. He turned to look at me, and I saw that he had the most incredible, piercing blue eyes that I’d ever seen. I had never had feelings for a white man before, but I felt a thrill of sexual excitement rush through my body.
‘Well,’ he said, with an impatient, clipped, tone, ‘what are you waiting for? Come and park your backside on the couch, we have an examination to carry out.’ My pussy began to weep for him. I’d never known a man to have such a strong, immediate effect on me - it was the mixture of authority and opulence, the stern way he spoke. I felt like a little girl again. The naughty little black girl, visiting the stern white Doctor. Oh, it felt marvellously exciting!
I tentatively made my way to the couch in the corner of the room, and lay down on it. The Doctor made his way over to me, and stood over me.
‘Now, your husband sent me a message very early this morning, telling me exactly what it is that happened last night.’ I looked up at him, hoping for any sort of glimmer of kindness. Of course, there was none. ‘I’m going to examine you physically, to see if there is any obvious reason why you seem to be a deviant, and if not, I’m afraid there will be corporal punishment to correct the mental malady.’ He paused. ‘This is a common problem I have with black women, you know,’ he said. ‘Getting ideas above their station. They need to be disciplined severely.’
I swallowed.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘time to begin the examination.
Without so much as a moment’s notice, he took a large pair of surgical scissors, and, with a hand on my smooth, round stomach, hooked the end of the implement underneath the fabric of my dress around my bust. With a strong, confident stroke, he sliced my clothes right down the middle, letting my large, black breasts splay out on my chest, and exposing my undergarments to the air. He looked down at me for a while. ‘Goodness,’ he said. ‘You really are a full figure of a woman, aren’t you?’ He pulled my clothes away and threw them into a bin at the side of the room.
‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘the areolae seem perfectly formed…’ He grabbed hold of my breast with his hand, squeezing the flesh lightly before pinch my left nipple so much that it was sore.
‘Ouch!’ I said. ‘Doctor, is this really necessary? There’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that!’ he said. He pulled up straps from underneath the surface of the table, and within a minute, he’d strapped my hands and feet down in place. Then, another large strap came from underneath, and secured my torso. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we’re going to need to remove this underwear.’ I tried to move a little in the constraints, but found that they held me tight. I felt so wonderfully at the doctor’s mercy, so trusting of his powerful strength, that to be honest, I wanted to be nowhere else but strapped to this table, ready to be probed. A familiar thrum of erotic lust coursed through my body, and as the strong doctor parted my legs and sliced off my underwear, I groaned with pleasure.
‘I see that like all deviants, you enjoy having your full, black body ogled by white men.’
No! I wanted to cry out. Not all white men! Just you!
He gave me a stern look. ‘Well let me assure you, my dear, you’ll like the feeling of my eyes on you much more than the feeling of my hand!’ He turned away and when he returned, I saw that he was carrying a leather bag. On it, written in gold letters were the words ‘Doctor’s Instruments’.
Chapter 11
When I saw the strange, scissor shaped clamp that the doctor had removed from his back, I almost gasped in fear. This thing looked monstrous. It was hooked and had little clamps on its ends. What would he be using it for?
‘Now madam, if you don’t mind, I will be using these forceps to make your quim nice and wide for an examination. It will feel very cold, and you might feel some pressure, but,’ and he glanced down at my now quivering maidenhood, ‘you seem so be producing so much natural lubricant that this won’t be too uncomfortable for you.
‘Doctor, I,’ I began. But before I had time to say anything, I felt strong fingers on either side of my delicate little entrance. They parted my sticky lips slightly, and then, with a cold, metallic prod, I felt the clamped end of the forceps slip inside me. The shock of the cold was immense, and I gasped. Then, before I had time to recover from this horrible sensation, I felt the doctor start to pry my lips apart.
‘Ugh,’ I grunted, and for a moment, the doctor stopped. But I wanted more, more of it in me! ‘Don’t stop,’ I whispered.
He pushed further apart and then, when I felt like my opening could take no more, he paused for a moment.
‘Oh my dear,’ he said, ‘you really have got the darkest and most remarkable little black cunt I’ve ever seen. You are the youngest woman I’ve ever had sent to me, and, I must confess, operating on you is an utter pleasure.’ He licked his lips.
‘Please,’ I said, quivering, ‘touch me again, touch me with your hand. I want you, doctor.’
‘Where do you want me to touch?’ he said, bringing his hand up and onto my breast. ‘Here?’ he said, trailing shapes around my soft, puckered skin.
‘Lower!’ I said.
‘Here?’ he said, painting my flesh with his, moving his digit further down, around my midriff.
‘Lower, doctor!’ I cried, barely able to take the pleasure.
‘Here?’ he said, cruelly, as he moved hi
s finger just above my pubic mound. He started twisting the finger round in my tightly wound hair, pulling it slightly, making me wince with pain.
‘Doctor, please, put your finger in me, into my pussy!’
He jerked away.
‘I don’t think so, Missy. Not yet.’
He took a little cotton bud and gently swabbed the moisture which was seeping from my wide-open, virginal pussy, then lifted the material to his nose. He sniffed deeply.
‘Smells normal, although the amount of mucus you are producing is prodigious, to say the least. I’ll have to take your temperature, I think. I don’t think that the aural thermometer will be up to the task though…’ he said, reaching once more into his bag. ‘No, this one will be much better.’ He held a thick glass rod in his hand, with little increments up the side, filled with a silvery fluid. I’d seen thermometers before of course, but not one quite as thick as this.
‘I’m going to insert this into your rectum, young lady. All the way up. Then, I’m going to leave it up there for a while, before seeing whether it might account for your filthy behaviour from the other night.’ As he spoke, he trailed the freezing cold glass of the tube up and down my trembling body. Then, with a cruel look, he moved it to the top of my entrance, to my clitoral mound. He began to press the tube gently onto my pleasure centre, sending darts of joy around my body, before gently slipping it inside me.
‘That’s good, we need to get this lubricated.’ Then, without warning, I felt a sudden pressure fill my bottom. The tip of the tube pushed and pushed, and he moved it around, working it slowly into my anal passage.
‘Oh God!’ I said, crying out in discomfort as he moved it into me. It felt almost as though I needed to go to the toilet, but there was a deep feeling of intense pleasure underneath everything he did, as he increased his mastery over me. Then, when I thought he’d pushed it all the way in, he squeezed a little harder, and popped the thermometer so far in that only an inch or so remained.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Now, try not to move. When I’m back, I’ll take the temperature.’ He turned, and left the room.
Chapter 12
Although he was only away for five minutes, they were the most agonising minutes of my life. I wanted, more than anything else, to use the juice that was still pumping from my pussy to rub my tender little clit until I had some release. But I was strapped in, unable to move at all, with an uncomfortable glass tube up my backside. I wondered whether my husband knew what kind of treatment I’d be subjected to in this brutal Doctor’s chamber, whether he’s fully endorsed it.
When the door swung open again, I was desperately pressing my bottom down into the couch, trying to give myself some relief.
‘Stop that immediately!’ he said, and strode over to me. He grasped the end of the thermometer, and slowly pulled it out. The sensation of it leaving my body was overwhelmingly pleasurable, and I felt pulses beat through my tortured little pussy.
‘Is it normal, Doctor?’ I panted, through a haze of lust, ‘or are you going to need to discipline me further?’
He looked at me. ‘It’s normal. The problem is in your brain. Which means corporal punishment.’ He undid the straps and gently removed the clamp from my pussy, which was now tender and sore, but desperate to be filled.
‘I’m going to lie you across my lap and show you what it means to learn some respect. You’re never going to spill your husband’s seed outside of your cunt again, young lady, do you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Now come and sit on me.’ He took up position on his chair behind the desk.
Shaking with nerves, I walked up to the brute. As I was about to lie down on him, he took an elegant-looking, freshly-pressed white silken handkerchief from his top packet, and carefully laid it across his lap. ‘We don’t want any of Madame’s juices to stain my trousers, do we?’ he asked. I’d never been asked such a vulgar question as this before, and I felt my cheeks start to burn red with embarrassment. I didn’t know what to say, so I carefully laid myself across his lap. I felt almost immediately dizzy, as I’d arranged myself so that my head was quite low down and my behind was sticking straight up in the air. I couldn’t see his face, but I could have sworn that I heard the revolting sound of him licking his lips.
He began to stroke my flesh, pushing my big, fleshy buttocks away from the centre of my behind. He felt so strong, as though he could tear my flesh away from my bone should he so wish, but, for the moment at least, his movements were careful and considered.
‘You have quite an exceptional form, my dear. Quite exceptional. Such dark, exotic skin. Such generous outlines. Such fleshy buttocks. You’ve almost distracted me from my task.’ I felt my little tender pussy being pushed down into the silk of the handkerchief beneath me, my lips squashing into the fine fabric as he rested a heavy hand on me.
‘Now, I’ve got the unhappy task of administering corporal punishment to your backside, my dear. I’m going to smack your bottom very hard now.’
‘Oh,’ I said, not thinking, ‘please sir, not that.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and I’m sure I heard cruel relish in his voice, ‘I’m afraid it’s my only recourse. It’s the only thing that can cure a depraved mind like yours. You must learn your place, black girl! Now, it’s imperative that you thank me after each and every slap, you hear? The punishment is ten slaps, but if you don’t thank me, they won’t count.’ With a final squeeze of my buttock, I felt the Doctor lift his hand away from my flesh, and then, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, I felt his strong white hand come smacking down onto me.
My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes widened with the pain of the strike. Little needles of red-hot sensation spread out from his fingers across my flesh. I had not expected him to hit me so hard. Shocked, I remained silent.
‘Pardon me?’ said the Doctor, ‘I didn’t quite hear that. We’ll have to start all over again, I’m afraid. What a dreadful shame.’ Then, without any warning, he lifted his hand again and brought it down with a hard, snapping thwack sound on my bottom, even harder than before. I felt my flesh pucker underneath him, as my body struggled to react to the pain it was experiencing. I felt one part of my bottom sting even harder than the other - it must be from his signet ring. Quick, Nora, say something, I thought to myself.
‘Tha- thank you, Doctor,’ I panted, trying hard to concentrate through the shock.
‘Oh, well done, dear. What a good girl. Well, it was my pleasure.’ As he said pleasure, I’m sure I felt something poking me from his crotch. Was it his… My thoughts were broken by another slap.
‘Thank you, Doctor Smith,’ I said, as my whole body shifted forward with the power of the smack. I closed my eyes and took the pain, as it radiated around my buttocks, and through my core, all the way round to my little wet quim which shivered underneath me, so close to his rough hands.
Again he beat me, and again I thanked him for it, and with each following strike it became easier to say thank you, even though the pain became more and more severe. I could feel the flesh of my bottom swelling and bruising with each slap as the Doctor marked me, made me his. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, Doctor,’ I said, and I knew that I was thanking him with sincerity, as now each slap had started to make my pussy began to beat with pleasure, with anticipation. I knew he was looking at me there, because with each strike now he was pinching my buttocks and pushing them up so that he could see that secret little place. I knew that I had started to glisten for him. Then, before I knew it, the ten slaps were up.
‘Oh look,’ he said, ‘it seems like someone’s little kitty is positively seeping with all this attention.’ I felt his fingers walking their way back along my rump and settle on the inside of my thighs. ‘I suppose for a bad girl like you, getting smacked on the behind must have made your cunny-skin wet with lust.’ His fingers started to slowly stroke the lips of my rose, smoothly stroking my sweet little organ, causing even more nectar to spill from
inside me, as I became entirely consumed with a burning passion. ‘I suppose you have never been touched by a white man before. This is your first time.’
‘Yes, Doctor,’ I whispered, ‘please, my Doctor.’ I could still feel the sting from his hand on my behind, and the memory of the pain mixed with the utter pleasure his hands began to gave me. His finger was the first part of anyone save me to enter the space between my legs, and his hooked, probing fingers discovered for the first time how soft it was inside me, how hot and how quivering my pussy was. He began to slide his thick, wide-knuckled digits into me while making little deep groaning sounds. I could feel my wetness starting to coat his hands, as he plunged now two fingers inside me.
‘What a tight little kitty,’ he murmured to himself, as he started to push harder, deeper into me. My body began twitching as he explored me, and with each confident pound of his fingers, I gave myself more and more to him, to his mastery, to his power, to his perversion. I now imagined him striking my behind again and again as his fingers stretched my flesh, then, suddenly, he moved his other hand to a space just above my opening, to what now felt the centre of my sexual power, and he began to wetly slide his fingers over a hard nub of flesh there. The pleasure, the surprise of it, was like flowers opening at the speed of light in my mind. I felt streaks of hot joy spread instantly over my body and then, black spots appeared in my vision as I began to buckle on top of him, and finally, without thinking, my mouth made a word that I’d never said before, and I exploded with pleasure, as my entire body stiffened and relaxed.
