His searching fingers invaded her hot damp slit, while she continued to stroke and tease his throbbing testicles. By now he was so aroused that he was forced to grit his teeth, barely able to keep control of his senses. He swung Helen around, pushing her against the bonnet of the car, and lifted up her skirt. She made no attempt to resist as she leaned obediently forwards, belly pressed to the cool, gleaming metal.
Helen was naked apart from her hold-up stockings, the black satin dress lying a crumpled band around her waist. She reminded Max of the whores he’d frequented in Amsterdam. From one in particular he’d learned the delicate art of dominating a woman.
Her body looked even paler, her skin luminous in contrast to the polished black metal. Max fastened his gaze on her bottom, which had never looked more appealing. Shoving a foot between her legs he forced them wide apart, and pulled open the cheeks of her buttocks. Her rosy arsehole was so tempting, hungry to be filled by his hard dick. Helen had shied away from anal penetration, so Max had never made any attempt to persuade her to try it. Now, he would have given anything to slide his dick into that sweet, tight virginal opening, but he knew this was neither the time nor the place. Soon, he thought, as he dug his fingers into her buttocks and positioned his cock-head against the moist channel of her sex. As he entered her with one swift thrust, she gave a sharp scream of ecstasy.
‘You’re mine, all mine, baby,’ he whispered in her ear.
Placing an arm either side of her, he splayed his fingers across the car bonnet. He ground his belly against her buttocks, then drew back and thrust deeper into the all-embracing flesh. As he began to move his hips in the age-old rhythm, he was barely conscious of the car bouncing slightly on its wheels, rocking in time to his powerful thrusts.
In the distance Max heard the sound of an engine, followed by the slamming of car doors and voices. The new arrivals would move towards the lift, perhaps pass this bay and glance casually into the dark depth, just in time to see him fucking Helen in the smelly warmth of this car park. He found the idea of being watched stimulating, and the blood began to pound savagely through his veins.
As their wild dance of lust continued, Max’s movements became stronger, more violent, and the car rocked even harder. Just as the sweet pleasure began to overwhelm him, the raucous sound of his car alarm filled his ears and the headlights began to flash. The intrusive noise seemed to increase in intensity as Max reached his powerful, gut-wrenching climax.
‘Shit,’ he muttered, slumping spent and exhausted against Helen for a moment, while fumbling in his pocket for the key fob. As he pressed the button, the car doors clicked open, at last silencing the alarm. ‘The bloody security guard will be here at any moment,’ he added, sanity and reason returning in a sudden rush.
As he jerked open the door of the Mercedes, Helen recovered herself enough to adjust her crumpled dress with trembling hands, and climb into the passenger seat. She sat there not moving, not saying a word, as Max jumped into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. In the rear view mirror Max saw the parking attendant walking swiftly towards them. He backed out of the bay and turned. Car tyres screaming, they drove off.
Chapter Two
‘WELL, WHAT DO you think?’ Max asked.
‘Very impressive,’ Helen replied.
Max had insisted on driving her down to the Princess Beatrice Clinic. Now he was taking her on a guided tour of the exclusive private hospital. The huge Georgian mansion was set in extensive grounds, and had been seamlessly extended to provide the most up-to-date and well-equipped hospital Helen had ever seen. The operating theatres, intensive care facilities and laboratories were superb, as was everything else. There was even a swimming pool and gym.
‘We have the very latest and best medical equipment there is,’ Max boasted. ‘The staff pride themselves on being able to cater for every conceivable need of our patients.’
‘Quite a contrast to St Matthew’s,’ Helen observed. Now that she had seen all this, Helen wasn’t surprised that the Princess Beatrice was the most expensive private hospital in England. She would be better paid here than she’d ever been, yet in essence she was taking a step backwards in her career.
As a senior registrar in this relatively small hospital, she would be responsible for the general wellbeing of all patients, both surgical and medical cases. It would be a big change. Helen had left general medicine behind her when she’d decided to become a surgeon. For almost two years she had been working for Max, furthering her chosen career path by concentrating wholly on plastic surgery.
‘This is our new maternity unit.’ Max led her towards a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor. ‘It has only just been completed, so we’ve no in-patients at present.’
‘I suppose it would be stupid to ask if you can accommodate all the very latest birthing techniques.’ Helen followed Max inside the unit. She knew that only a few, fortunate women could afford to have their babies delivered here, but she was still looking forward to perhaps helping at the occasional birth. She could still vividly recall her stint in maternity. There was something profoundly humbling about helping a new life enter the world.
‘We try to keep the operating theatres in maternity as much like home as possible.’ Max guided Helen into a large room which had floral patterned wallpaper on the walls and frilly curtains at the windows. The large amount of necessary medical equipment ranged along one wall was half-hidden by screens.
‘It can’t be easy to keep this sterile,’ Helen commented, moving to examine a unit at the side of the bed – one of the very latest foetal monitoring machines.
‘The mental well-being of our patients is just as important to us as everything else. Most patients feel more at ease in these sort of surroundings. Here we can deal with just about every complication. Unlike most private clinics, we’ve no need to resort to transferring patients to an NHS hospital when things get difficult.’ Max pulled back the padded counterpane. ‘Looks like a normal bed, doesn’t it? It is a tad hard but quite comfortable, and we can use it for caesareans if the need arises.’ He touched a button, and soundlessly the top half of the bed was raised into a sitting position.
‘There are stirrups underneath. A little old-fashioned for such an advanced unit,’ Helen said with a wry smile.
‘Maybe so,’ Max agreed. ‘But there are times when they come in handy. We have a number of very wealthy patients from cultures far different from ours – where it is still considered necessary for the birth of an heir to be witnessed by those in positions of authority. With the woman flat on her back, her legs raised high and wide, it makes it easier for the witnesses to see the birth clearly.’
‘Rather barbaric.’ Helen shuddered as she sat tentatively down on the bed, wondering what it would feel like to give birth in front of a crowd of people, all most likely male. ‘And very demeaning.’
‘Do we have the right to question such customs?’ Max slipped off Helen’s shoes and lifted her feet on to the bed. ‘How does it feel?’
‘Surprisingly comfortable,’ she admitted. Max bent down and swung the shiny stainless steel stirrups into place. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he took hold of her ankle and placed her leg in the padded cup of the stirrup.
‘Just letting you get a feel of the place.’ He smiled, put her other leg in the opposite stirrup, and fastened the Velcro straps in place around her ankles.
Helen had never much liked the stirrups, they had always reminded her of barbaric torture equipment. However, sometimes they proved necessary; for instance, during forceps deliveries or when the need for stitches arose. ‘They feel a little strange. I’ve never put myself in the position of the patients before.’
‘Every doctor should, however briefly,’ Max said seriously.
‘Even male doctors?’
‘I suppose so, but it’s not quite the same.’ He walked past the foot of the bed and pulled aside a floral screen. Helen was surprised to find herself facing a huge mirror, the size of a large win
dow, set in the wall. Not the sort of thing one usually found in a delivery room or operating theatre. ‘Personally, Helen, I think you look rather sexy.’
‘That’s a weird comment.’ She had to agree with Max. There was a certain sensual vulnerability about the woman she saw reflected in the mirror. Her legs, fastened to the metal stirrups, were held high and wide in a bizarre position. Between her open thighs, Helen could see the pale gusset of her cream satin panties, straining tightly over the pouch of her sex. ‘I suppose there is something rather alluring about the indignity,’ she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
Max laughed. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Helen, and the answer is no. Seeing my patients like this doesn’t turn me on. They are sexless to me, just part of my job, while you, my sweet –’ he lovingly stroked her leg, then eased the metal stirrups even wider apart until she felt the strain on the muscles of her inner thighs, the position making the satin gusset tighten even more, hugging the contours of her pussy lips ‘– you are very arousing.’
‘You can let me go now.’ She was unable to tear her gaze from the vulnerable woman in the mirror. Part of her wanted to stay like this, beg Max to touch her, bring her to a climax. But she was all too aware that someone could easily walk in here at any moment. What would the staff think if their new senior registrar and one of the owners was found playing sensual games with the medical equipment.
‘Not quite yet.’ His voice had taken on a husky, demanding note. ‘Seeing you like this gives me pleasure.’
‘But anyone could walk in on us.’ Helen leaned forwards, trying to reach the straps holding her ankles. As she did so, Max touched the control and the back of the bed lowered into a semi-supine position. Using both hands he pressed her back against the mattress. ‘No, Max,’ she said worriedly.
‘There’s something I want to do before I release you.’ He held her down with the weight of his body while he grabbed hold of her left wrist and fastened it to the side of the bed with a Velcro strap.
‘Whatever it is, I don’t like it.’ She struggled, an icy shiver running down her spine as she saw the wild expression in his blue eyes. They had played a number of games involving bondage recently but always in the privacy of his apartment. ‘It’s neither the time, nor the place.’
‘On the contrary, I think it’s perfect,’ he grunted, continuing to pin her down as he grabbed her other flailing arm, securely fastening it to the side of the bed.
‘Please, Max.’ Helen felt agitated yet aroused. She was just able to see her reflection in the mirror, and she looked even more erotically vulnerable as she pulled uselessly against the straps that bound her. ‘No silly games, not now.’
‘This isn’t a game,’ Max said in all seriousness. ‘There is something I want to make very clear to you before I leave for the States.’ He rolled her cotton skirt upwards, bundling it around her slim waist. Then he unbuttoned her thin cotton top, pulling it open to bare her breasts. ‘You’re mine and you stay that way all the time I’m gone.’
‘Why should you believe otherwise . . .’ she faltered, as she recalled his anger over Duncan. ‘I care for you Max, you know I do.’
‘Maybe that’s not enough.’ Tenderly he stroked the creamy skin of her bosom, pressing and rubbing the firm flesh, until Helen gave a faint gasp of pleasure. Firmly he pinched each nipple, squeezing hard until they turned a dark rosy red. ‘I know a place in New York; the silversmith there specialises in sexual jewellery. I think I’ll get him to make you a pair of ornate clamps to decorate those pretty teats.’
‘Don’t they hurt?’ Helen winced at the thought of tiny clamps cutting into the sensitive flesh of her nipples, cruelly restricting the blood flow.
‘I’m told the constant pressure is highly arousing.’ Max whipped the sterile cloth off the trolley close to the bed. Helen saw the carefully laid out rows of surgical instruments. They were all highly familiar to her, yet they looked different now, taking on a subtly erotic, almost ominous element.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Nothing you’ve not secretly wanted my sweet.’
Max selected a small pair of blunt-ended surgical scissors. He ran the flat edge of the closed blades slowly up her inner left thigh, pausing when he reached the springy blonde curls spilling out of the sides of the panty gusset. Helen unconsciously held her breath as he ran the blade slowly across the tightly stretched satin.
‘I’m about to ruin even more of your underwear, I’m afraid. Don’t worry I’ve ordered a dozen new pairs from that little place in Mayfair. Every time you wear them you’ll be reminded of me.’
New panties were the last thing on Helen’s mind as Max snipped delicately at the cream satin gusset. The fabric sprang apart, and he flipped the cut fabric away from her sex. Keeping the scissors closed, he caressed her quim with the flat cold blade. The metal felt hard, frightening even, as he carefully slid the closed blades between her pussy lips. The cold steel touched her clit and she gave an unconscious moan, not wanting the lifeless feel of hard metal, craving the warmth and softness of Max’s fingers and lips.
Gently, and with great precision, Max move the scissors in a smooth caressing motion along the channel of her sex. Despite her fears and apprehension, her senses were aroused and her juices began to flow in abundance.
‘I want you, Max,’ she murmured, her gaze fastening on the tempting bulge at his crotch, desperate now to feel his hard cock plunging inside her. ‘Please, I can’t wait,’ she added breathlessly.
‘You always were a randy little bitch,’ Max grunted, smiling coldly as he dropped the scissors in a kidney bowl with a loud clatter. ‘I think you need to be taught a lesson,’ he continued picking up a slim, flat-ended probe.
‘No, Max!’ Helen’s eyes widened nervously as he slapped it against his hand.
Leaning forwards, Max hit Helen sharply on her inner thigh, just below the juncture with her pelvis. He had playfully punished her before, but never as cruelly as this. Her skin smarted, colouring slightly. Max hit her again and again, laying the blows in a regular pattern that criss-crossed her inner thighs until the discomfort increased considerably and her skin started to redden and burn. ‘Stop it,’ she gasped. ‘That’s enough, Max.’
Max paused and looked thoughtfully down at the pouting pouch of her open sex. Helen couldn’t tear her gaze from him as he absentmindedly rubbed his palm across his bulging crotch. His cock seemed to increase in size as he slid down the zip of his jeans and eased the swollen organ out of the opening.
Helen stared hungrily at his huge prick, watching him ring the shaft with his fingers and wank it smoothly until it stiffened even more and a tiny bead of moisture escaped from the tip. Her inner thighs burned, amplifying the aching need in her sex. She would have given anything now to have him, but she still jumped nervously as Max pressed the bed control and the lower end fell away, leaving only her lower spine supported. Helen’s buttocks and sex were left even more exposed and open, with her legs still spread high and wide. It made her feel even more vulnerable and excited as Max stepped between her open thighs.
Gently, he peeled open her swollen pussy lips and ran the tips of his fingers along her warm, moist slit. Helen moaned in desperation, then flinched in surprise as he placed a stinging blow across her open sex with the slim metal probe. The fiery heat seared her quim and she barely had time to draw breath before Max hit her again, this time across the tip of her bud. The agony was terrible, yet subtly arousing.
As he hit her again, following the line of her pussy lips, Helen moaned helplessly. Each stinging blow brought a fresh burst of moisture inside her and lights danced before her eyes. Helen begged him to stop, thrashing her limbs, pulling agitatedly against her bonds but Max ignored her pleadings. There was no way she could escape his punishing assault on her senses. She was forced to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming aloud as the pain and pleasure mingled into an exquisite ecstasy that knew no boundaries. As she surrendered her sen
ses to the burning bliss, Max leaned forwards and pulled her abused clitoris into his mouth. He sucked on it hard and her pleasure erupted into a sudden, quite earth-shattering, climax.
Helen, trembling in the aftermath of her orgasm, caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She could see the red angry slash of her sex standing vividly out against her pale pubic curls. She found the sight of her own inflamed secret parts wildly arousing.
Max eased the stirrups wider, putting even more strain on her leg muscles, until they ached with the unaccustomed pressure and her pussy lips gaped crudely open, revealing the delicious pink moistness of her quim. Casually he rubbed his cock shaft as he stared thoughtfully down at her exposed sex. A bead of moisture seeped from the plumlike head, and Helen could literally smell his lust for her. Desperate for him to take her, she agitatedly licked her lips, confused by his hesitancy. She wondered what thoughts were whirling around inside his head. As usual, she had no idea what Max was planning to do next.
‘Do it now. Or let me go,’ she pleaded.
‘Do what, sweetheart?’ Max asked with a wry grin.
‘Fuck me,’ she replied.
‘There’s time enough for that, but first I want to show you a new device that a gynaecologist friend of mine has started prescribing for his patients. He says they work far better than the pelvic cones he usually uses to help strengthen the internal muscles.’ Max held the objects up for her inspection. Three polished metal balls, fastened together by finely meshed, flexible silver chains. They looked more like sex toys than medical equipment. ‘He swears the patients tell him that they often reach a climax just by wearing them for a short length of time.’
Helen swallowed nervously as she imagined them filling the channel of her sex. ‘Do they really work better?’
‘Apparently the results have been remarkable.’ The balls looked heavy and as Max moved his hand they rolled together with a soft clink. ‘Why not try them yourself?’
Doctor's Orders Page 3
