He must have seen my disquiet, because he smiled again at me. “Relax,” he repeated. “Only good memories here.” His eyes stayed on mine until I relaxed and nodded slightly. He moved away and picked up his clipboard. “Ms. Preston,” he said, his voice taking on the dominant tones I loved. “Please. Take a seat on the chair.” He pointed towards the stool, and I took a seat, tucking the gown primly under my ass.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” his voice rebuked. “Bare ass please, spread knees. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, should I?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “Let’s make a notation on your chart shall we?” He scribbled something down, and then flipped around the chart to show me. It was a punishment tracker.
“What shall I put in here?” he asked me. “How would you like to be punished?”
“Do I get a choice?” I asked him.
“You are allowed to suggest things, of course,” he said. “I might or might not listen to your suggestions.”
“In that case, Dr. Anderson,” I smirked, “I’d like to be spanked as punishment, please.” Being spanked by Patrick wasn’t a punishment for me at all. It was all pleasure. The pain of his palms descending on my ass, contrasted with the feel of his fingers touching my pussy and ass – everything retreated to an ache in me, a longing that was the embodiment of desire.
His lips quirked. “I hardly think that being spanked is a punishment for you, Lisa,” he said dryly. Damn it, he’d realized that too. I pouted slightly, and he grinned at me.
“Okay, Ms. Preston,” he said firmly, his tone indicating that our little interlude was over. “Tell me, what’s the matter today?”
Hmm. So I was going to get to dictate some of the role play today. I wondered if that was because I hadn’t been in this room for a while. I could plead that I had difficulty reaching orgasm, and he’d maybe pull out the fucking machine. I could tell him I had a meeting to run to, and just needed a quick checkup, and he’d maybe fuck me, hard and fast.
But today, I didn’t want a say. I just wanted to put myself totally in Patrick’s hands.
“I just don’t feel completely right, Dr. Anderson,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s wrong.”
“Perhaps a complete checkup then,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. He waved towards the examination table. “Why don’t you get on the table, on your hands and knees, please? I need to take your temperature.”
Taking my temperature. With a rectal thermometer. I felt myself flush in embarrassment. But my pussy ached in arousal, and I obeyed.
His hand pressed into my lower back. “Down,” he ordered. “Put your shoulder on the table. Push your ass in the air.”
Oh, this was even more embarrassing. There was nothing quite as vulnerable as this position. Ass in the air, pussy on display, head on the table. I was reduced to just my fuckable parts.
“Now, I do need you to keep quiet for this examination,” he said. “Open your mouth.” He had a large dildo in his hand. I obeyed, and he pushed the head of the dildo in my mouth. “For practice,” he said, winking at me. “Though,” he added hastily, “I don’t mean to suggest you need the practice. Your mouth is exquisite, and your throat is perfection.”
I blushed in pleasure at the compliment.
His fingers dipped into the crevice between my ass, and I felt a trickle of lube at my asshole. A finger slid in, and I relaxed my muscles, and he spanked me as a reward. “Mmm,” I moaned around the dildo in my mouth.
The straps of the nearly transparent hospital gown lay across my back, but the gown itself hung open, exposing my body. My ass was on lewd display for Patrick. I felt the thermometer slide in, and Patrick wriggled it around, and I moaned into my dildo. “Keep still,” he told me, amusement in his voice. “I’m trying to get a reading.”
Right. I didn’t think he cared at all what my temperature was. He just enjoyed watching me blush in embarrassment, and yet cede to his control, trusting him to keep me safe.
His fingers tapped the thermometer again, once, twice, and it nestled deeper in my ass. It wasn’t very wide, but it was in deep, and I felt each tap of his fingers deep in me.
He pulled it out. “Your temperature is normal,” he told me. “Let’s test your general fitness level next?”
General fitness level? What was Patrick going to do?
“Okay,” he said, his hand on my thigh. “Push this leg out.”
I stretched out my leg, extending it parallel to the table. Every muscle protested the movement. I made a little murmur of protest, and he laughed at me and clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Again,” he ordered. I brought my leg back to bended knee, then I extended it straight out again.
A personal training session, naked, with a dildo in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be incredibly mortified or incredibly turned on. Right now, I was both.
“Hmm,” he said. “The other leg now.” I repeated the motion, with his hand on my lower back. This time, as I extended my right leg out, he touched the back of my thigh. “Hold that position,” he ordered.
His fingers parted the folds of my pussy, and he ran a thumb all the way up my slit. “Push it in,” I begged, the words coming up warbled around the dildo in my mouth.
“What was that again?” he asked me, his fingers teasing my entrance.
“Push your fingers in,” I grunted around the dildo.
He just laughed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Preston, I can’t quite understand what you are saying,” he said, and at the same time, he pushed three fingers in, hard, into my wet pussy. I rocked forward, and I gripped the dildo in my mouth hard as I groaned in pleasure.
“Did you just bite that dildo?” His voice was low and level, and I knew I was in trouble. He shook his head. “Ah, more punishment, kitten. Do I really need to train you to keep your teeth away from a cock?”
He pulled the dildo away from me, and gripped my chin in his fingers. “Bad kitten,” he said to me sternly, bending down to kiss my nose. His fingers massaged my jaw gently, easing away the slight ache from having the dildo in my mouth.
“Stand up,” he ordered. “I’m still trying to get a handle on your fitness level.” He moved next to me, and undid the straps of the hospital gown, which fell on the floor. I stepped out of the way and moved to the centre of the room.
Patrick pushed the stool out of the way. “Let’s see,” he said. “Let’s have you do some jumping jacks.”
“Jumping jacks,” I said in utter disbelief. He was going to make me do jumping jacks when I was naked?
He raised an eyebrow at my tone. “Really?” he asked, shaking his head in disapproval. He pulled his clipboard in towards him, and scribbled another note in it. No doubt, a note on punishment.
“Tell you what,” he said, once he was done writing. His tone was reasonable, and I raised my eyebrow in suspicion. He rummaged in a drawer and returned with a pair of nipple clamps with jewelled weights dangling from them. “You do ten jumping jacks wearing these,” he said, “and we’ll wipe out all your punishments.”
“Okay,” I said compliantly. I was proud I kept my voice free of protest.
Each jumping jack sent a little shard of pain through my nipples. I bit my lip, but as I winced, my pussy grew wetter. Patrick’s erection was clearly visible under his pants, and as always, his obvious arousal went a long way to making me feel like a creature of desire. When I was done with ten, I looked at him with a smirk on my face, proud of finishing my punishment without further complaint.
He laughed aloud at my expression, and gestured back to the examination table. “Lie down on your back,” he ordered.
I obeyed, and he took my ankles in his hands, buckling them into the stirrups at the side of the examination table, and my knees wide apart. “An internal examination next,” he said, grabbing a couple of speculums from the cupboard.
The first speculum he showed me was steel, and looked incredibly sturdy. “I like these better for your ass,” he said. “Now, let’s get it in, and let
’s get you open, shall we?”
More lube trickled on my tight bud, and the speculum entered me, and Patrick gradually opened my ass up. I fought to relax my muscles, but they clenched automatically against the intrusion, my body rebelling against the slightly painful stretching. “Just a bit more,” he said, his voice soothing, and I felt my muscles forcefully stretched again.
“Gaping open,” he said. His voice was satisfied.
“Do you like this?” I asked him. I liked placing myself in his control. I wasn’t sure what he got out of it.
“Absolutely,” he said instantly. “I like knowing you are open for me. I like knowing that you are in slight discomfort, but you bear it because you trust me, and you know I’ll take care of you.”
Ah. It was the trust piece that was a turn-on for him. Well, in that case, he should have been walking around with a hard-on all the time, because I trusted him implicitly.
“Are you going to take care of me soon?” I asked him, a slight plea in my voice. Oh, I wanted him to touch my pussy so badly. I needed his hard dick inside me, filling me, taking me. Using me. Owning me.
“Eventually,” he said. “And the more you plead, the longer you wait, so consider that before speaking next time.”
I flashed him a look of complete irritation which he thankfully didn’t see.
“Now, the vaginal examination,” he said. The speculum slid into me, and I bit my lip as Patrick cranked it open, slowly spreading the walls of my vagina. “Ouch,” I gasped.
He looked at me with quick concern. “Is that a yellow?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “Just ouch,” I replied. Already, the pain was receding, and pleasure was rushing in to take its place. Waves of arousal lapped at me, and I closed my eyes briefly. I felt so open. So exposed. So vulnerable, yet so protected.
“In that case, I’d like silence from you, Ms. Preston,” he snapped.
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said meekly, and he bent forward and brushed his lips against mine.
“Now, Ms. Preston, let’s test your responses, shall we?” His voice was rough with anticipation, and lust coiled tight within me.
He had a thin vibrator in his hand, not much thicker than my little finger. He grinned a smile of pure evil, as he slid the vibrator in my ass. He inserted an identical vibrator in my pussy, and then stood back and watched me as I reacted to the two vibrators.
Oh, but the sensation. It pushed me, alarmingly fast to the edge of extreme frustration. It vibrated just enough to keep me simmering in arousal, but not enough to get me off. “Patrick,” I whined, my eyes pleading. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he said, his voice even. He shrugged aside his lab coat and unzipped his pants, then stepped out of them, pushed his boxers down his hips. His erection jumped out, proud and hard, and he stepped close to my mouth. I opened automatically. Sucking Patrick off, the feeling of satisfying my Dom, would push me closer to my climax. Perhaps even let me tip over into it.
“Ah fuck, Lisa,” he said, his eyes clenching shut as I took him into my mouth.
I focused on bringing him pleasure. I sucked and licked, and I gripped the base of his cock with my fingers, moving my hand up and down in rhythm with my mouth. My other hand moved to his balls, cupping them, and he groaned and pushed further down my throat. But as I felt my body edge closer to climax, he groaned and pulled away.
I whimpered in protest, and he ran his fingers up my jaw, inclining my head up so I would look into his eyes. “I want to come in your beautiful pussy,” he told me.
“Then stop teasing me and do it,” I growled back and he laughed.
“More jumping jacks as punishment?” he asked rhetorically, and I winced. He was fully capable of making me do jumping jacks, watching my face twist with mingled pain and pleasure as my nipples hurt from the ache of the clamps. But I didn’t want jumping jacks now.
I wanted him. At this particular moment, I didn’t care about my orgasm. My climax was a by-product of pleasing my Dominant. What I wanted in that moment, more than anything in the world, was to bring Patrick pleasure. His calm control was the safety line that I held on to as I surrendered my own, and I ached to find a way to express my gratitude for that.
“Whatever you’d like, Dr. Anderson,” I said. “Let me please you.”
He looked at me very intently, his eyes utterly serious. “You please me every day, love, just by being who you are,” he said. For a brief moment that stretched on forever, our eyes met, and in his expression, I saw only love.
Tears rose unbidden in mine. Serious emotion always made me cry, and I felt foolish crying in front of Patrick. I was a grown woman, damn it. But Patrick’s lips kissed each falling tear, and his fingers laced in mine. Finally, his hands squeezed mine, and he moved a step back.
“Ms. Preston,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, squeezing his fingers back.
He pulled the vibrator out of my pussy, and put it in my ass. Both speculums were pulled out. My ass closed around the two vibrators as he gripped my hips and slid into my slightly sore pussy.
I grunted. “Sore?” he asked.
“A little,” I said. He slammed into me. “But don’t stop,” I gasped.
“Ah, I had no intention of stopping, baby,” he said. He pounded in me, his face contorted with pleasure. His fingers found my clitoris as he pumped, and I reached forward and gripped his forearms as he slammed into my body, and I held back my orgasm until he was close, and we both exploded within seconds of each other.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, freeing my legs from the stirrups. “Bed?”
“Do guys lose some magic ability to talk after they come?” I asked him, a grin on my face.
“Yes,” he said dryly. “Our conversational ability resides in our semen. Once we ejaculate, we can’t actually speak. Do keep that in mind the next time you want to cuddle and talk after sex, okay Lisa?”
I giggled. Patrick was hilarious. I rose, stretching. “Bed,” I agreed lazily.
It really had been the best kind of distraction.
Chapter 16
Lisa:
“Okay,” I told Patrick. “Close your eyes.”
You know those reality TV shows where the designers banish the homeowners the last two days of the project, and then bring them in for the big reveal? Yeah. That wasn’t quite the way it worked in real life. Clients paid designers, not the other way round, and we danced to their tune.
That being said, Patrick was my boyfriend, and I had wanted to surprise him with a beautiful, finished house. I had asked him to stay away for the last three days. He had rolled his eyes at my request, but truth be told, I think he was quite happy to stay away from the chaos.
He’d been spending a lot more time at my condo as the project ran over schedule, and as bad as I felt about the delays, I loved having him at my place all the time. I’d never lived with someone, and I wasn’t sure how things would work being in such close quarters with Patrick.
Things had been great. And living with him, I noticed things about him I really liked, things that boded well for a long-term relationship. Patrick participated in chores without complaint. He respected my need for quiet time, and had similar needs himself. He was tidier than I was, and teased me unmercifully about my habit of leaving my coffee mug all over my condo, but he was good-natured about it, and not judgemental.
I was going to miss his presence in my condo. I was going to miss seeing him tangled up in my bed. And I sure as hell was going to miss the fact that he woke up before me and made me coffee in the mornings.
“Ready?” I asked him.
“It’s a week until Christmas, Lisa,” he said to me. “This should have been done two weeks ago? I’m pretty sure I’m ready.”
I grinned at him. He was rarely irritable, and I secretly found it adorable when he was crabby. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. Taking advantage of his closed eyes, I just leaned forward and kissed his lips.
“Oh,
is this a make-out session?” he asked. “Because if it is, I’m totally and fully in support of it.”
“Patrick,” I chided. “Your house. I’m doing the big unveiling right now.”
“I can think of many things I’d like unveiled,” he laughed. “Can I open my eyes now?”
I moved him forward and positioned him in the middle of his foyer. “Okay,” I said. “Open them.”
***
The project had originally been about the kitchen, but it had grown to where I was basically redesigning his entire house. That had been his idea; once he had some idea how disruptive a renovation was going to be, he decided it would be a lot easier if the entire house was done at the same time. Every room got redesigned. The bathrooms were retiled and new showers and bathtubs put in. Every single room was painted. Windows were replaced. It had been five weeks of frantic activity. And though Patrick was grouchy about the delay, he didn’t know how much work had been done. Homeowners never did.
He opened his eyes. “Walk me through the house,” he ordered, and I smiled to myself at the tone of command in his voice.
“Okay,” I waved at the floor. “New Moroccan floor tiles here, new light fixture.”
“And new paint colour,” he said. “I like it.”
We walked through the house, and I watched him as he took it all in, and I saw my work through his eyes. His house had been a bit devoid of personality when I’d started, but it sparkled right now. Better lighting, cleaner layout, and lots and lots of warmth and colour.
I grew edgy though as we walked through, and he kept silent. He’d seen enough of the work in progress. Things shouldn’t have been a complete surprise. Shit. Did he not like it?
“You have to say something,” I said nervously.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you this anxious when you walk other clients through?” he asked me.
I nodded. “I hide it better though,” I said.
He put an arm around my waist, and pulled me in. “I love it,” he said, kissing my nose. “But I’m taking it in. Let me walk through and see it all, please?”
Recovery (Doctor Dom Volume 5) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) Page 10
