I fought to remain still.
His hands slid down my body; caressed my sides, swooped a steady line from my breasts to my waist, cinched by the garter belt; settled on my hips. I felt him tease the knot of the ribbons holding the panties in place.
“I know next to nothing about lingerie,” he said, his voice amused, “but I will admit I was looking for pieces that were easy to remove.”
My lips twitched.
The knot came undone, a quick tug, and my panties were off. I was now clad in my bra, my garter belt, stockings and shoes. I closed my eyes against the sudden heat in my blood. My heart beat faster.
He pulled close to me, his arms reaching around me to my breasts again. His voice was low in my ear. “You have a safe word; I’m going to push you tonight. Use it anytime you need.”
I nodded; my pulse racing. What did he have in store for me?
He stepped back from me; flicked a couple of switches on the wall. The light changed; the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights from the examination room were replaced by softer, warmer lighting. But his voice was firm; commanding.
“Lisa,” he said, hard intent in his voice. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you in your ass. And you are going to beg for it.”
My breath caught. All I could think about was how much it had hurt the one and only time I’d had anal sex.
“I’m going to put my dick at your entrance, baby,” he continued. “And you are going to plead with me to push it in you. And I’m going to wait, right there, my head just opening your tight little hole, and I’m going to tell you to push back against me; to impale yourself on me.”
I bit my lip. He was painting me a vivid and erotic picture, and my body was responding to him; my pussy wet and clenching; my skin sparkling with nerves; my entire being pulsing with pleasure.
“And you are going to be so wet, so dripping, so ready, that you are going to push willingly against me. And you are going to moan my name as I claim you.”
Everything went hazy as arousal took over my body at his words. His hands were cupping my breasts; his thumbs rubbing against my nipples. Tremors ran through my body at his words; juice dripped down my pussy to my thighs.
“I can already smell your arousal, baby,” he said, his voice dominant. “You are going to do this for me tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, my words a growl of lust.
“Yes, you are,” he said, and I could hear the pleasure there. “You are going to do this because I want it, just as you wore the lingerie because I asked. You are such a good girl, baby.”
I flushed; happy I had pleased him. My mind was a haze; all thought was lost in the swirl of sensation his words unleashed in me.
“But first, before all that, let’s clean you up,” he said. “Kneel on the exam table, please, Miss Preston,” he added, his voice crisp.
I moved towards the examination table on unsteady legs. The heels were high, and I was trembling with lust.
He chuckled. “Take off the shoes,” he said indulgently. “You aren’t going to need them.”
I kicked off my heels, a small sigh of bliss running through me as feeling returned to my feet. They were lovely shoes, but they were insanely uncomfortable.
“Poor Lisa,” he said soothingly, his hands on my stocking-covered legs. His fingers massaged my feet, and I moaned slightly as his hands soothed the ache.
“Thanks,” I said gratefully, looking at him.
He nodded, smiled. “Least I can do,” he said, “since I did drag you to the AGO.” His fingers continued their work for a few minutes, then he nodded to me. “Ok, kneel on the examination table, please.”
If there was one way in which Patrick was different from Nick, it was that the play felt more personal. Perhaps it was because Patrick took the scene less seriously; with Nick, I got the feeling he was striving for the perfectly trained sub. With Patrick, there was always awareness of who I was. In a way, it was scarier; I couldn’t lose myself in the fantasy, the emotions were too real. Patrick demanded heightened consent.
I knelt on the table. His hands were on my shoulders, bending me forward. “Shoulders on the table, ass up.” His instructions were crisp; precise. My head and shoulders lowered to rest on the padded examination table, my ass was raised in the air. I could feel the cool air touch my opened pussy and asshole; feel his eyes rest on my exposed body.
“Nice,” was all he said. “Bring your hands back, clasp your ankles,” he directed. I obeyed.
Smack. It wasn’t his hands that he had used, a riding crop, maybe? I hadn’t felt one of these on my body in a long time. Arousal rushed through me. “Lift your ass higher in the air,” he chided. “I want to see your pussy and your ass; ready for me to use.”
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I murmured. He was being far more dominant today than he’d ever been before. I should have been nervous; instead, I was painfully aroused. I lifted my ass in the air, thrust my pussy out in compliance. My grip tightened on my ankles as I fought to hold the perfect position.
I hadn’t assumed this position in twelve years, and the strangest thing about it all was that I wasn’t afraid.
“You know, when you first told me you wanted to play dirty doctor,” he said, “I thought it would be too weird for me. After all, this is work for me. I thought that any fantasy involving examination tables and other medical equipment would just make me feel strange.” His fingers were tracing the outline of my pussy, spreading the wetness from my pussy to my ass, just rimming that hole, spreading the moisture around it. I fought to hold steady; to please him by keeping still.
“But thankfully, work is still work; I’m having no inappropriate thoughts about any of my patients. But this room? This room is where fantasy can become real. And baby, I find myself having so many fantasies about you…”
He walked away for a bit; I stayed in position and wondered what he had in store for me. Anal sex; that was definitely on the docket, he’d warned me. Slight fear coated my thoughts as I pondered that, but I brushed the fear away. Everything Patrick had done to me was sensual; I was aroused by everything he did. I couldn’t imagine feeling violated the same way I had when Nick had taken my ass all those years ago.
He was back. My face pressed down on the examination table as it was, I couldn’t see what he was doing. His hands were at my ankles, I could feel something, perhaps rope; and his fingers were on my hands and my legs, and before I knew it, I was tied up; each hand tied to its ankle in a way that I couldn’t move my hands free.
“Scouts training?” I asked.
He laughed, and flicked the crop against my ass. It stung briefly, but he hadn’t hit hard; just a flick to make a point. “I should tell you to keep quiet,” he said, his voice amused. “Nope, I learned how to tie some knots during medical school. But I do also like tying women up…”
I supposed I asked for it, but I definitely didn’t like the thought of him with other women. I didn’t even know if he was sleeping with someone else right now; we had no conversations about exclusivity. But this wasn’t a productive train of thought when I was tied up. I pushed all those thoughts out of my mind with determination.
“As I was saying about my fantasies…”
I gulped. He moved away; I could heard him wheel something into the room. I peeked, it was an enema bag. I made a face to myself. I wouldn’t have Patrick shaving me this time to distract me from the discomfort.
“No peeking.” His voice was firm; his order punctuated by another flick of the crop.
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered. My pussy was gushing; juices flowing down my thighs. I could feel his finger touch my thigh; scoop up the wetness.
“Delicious,” he muttered.
I could hear the spurt of lube being squeezed out through a tube, then I felt his fingers on my asshole. I fought not to clench, he noticed. “Lisa,” he said, his voice very soft. “I’m not going to hurt you baby, I promise.” His hands were at my shoulders, stroking me. Calming me.<
br />
I took a deep breath. “I know,” I said, my voice muffled. “Just go slow, and I’ll be okay.”
His hands moved to my back, traced a line from my shoulder down my back, and his fingers tickled my asshole again. His finger slid into my asshole, up to his first knuckle; pushing lube into my puckered bud. His other hand stroked my pussy. I could hear his smile as he saw how wet I was.
“You are dripping, baby,” he said, pleasure in his voice. “Is it being tied down? Is it the crop?”
“All of it,” I muttered. “You,” I thought. He leaned forward and kissed the small of my back.
“So sexy,” he said quietly. “Ready for your enema?”
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered again.
He lubed up the nozzle; I felt it at the entrance of my ass. I whimpered a little; this felt bigger than the previous nozzle.
“Hush, baby,” he soothed. “You can take this.” His fingers pushed, and the rings of my ass gave way to the nozzle. He adjusted a lever on the tube, and I could feel the water gushing into me.
I bit my lip silently. The gushing of water was erotic, at least for the moment, before too much of it filled me.
The water kept flowing into me, and I groaned. I felt full, overflowing. I moaned.
His lips were on the small of my back; kissing me, touching me. His hands traced the outline of the garter belt; his fingers stroked the spot on my thighs where the stocking met my skin. Finally, it was done; the enema bag was empty; and he removed the tube from the nozzle.
“The nozzle serves as a plug as well,” he said. He unbound my hands from my ankles. “I’d like you to wait ten minutes,” he ordered. “Let’s see if we can find a way to distract you.”
A flick of the crop; I’d let my ass slump. “Lift it in the air,” he ordered. “I want to see that pussy.”
I obeyed; I wanted to please him. His fingers were on my pussy, spreading my lips, his thumb finding my clitoris with assurance.
“You have to ask for permission to orgasm.” His voice was firm.
I whimpered, but I nodded my compliance.
Two fingers entered my pussy, twisting and turning, curving so he hit my g-spot with each thrust. His thumb stroked my clitoris firmly. I writhed beneath his pleasurable torture.
Crop. The crop hit my pussy, and I almost jumped off the examination table. His fingers followed instantly, easing the sting, stroking me back to pleasure.
“Again,” I begged.
He laughed at me indulgently, and repeated the flick of the crop. I hissed, lust running through me. In a faint bit of my mind, I felt discomfort from the enema, but in the forefront was Patrick and the pleasure he was giving me. I was rising, rising; I was swiftly approaching orgasm as his fingers pushed into me and stroked me. “Patrick, may I come, please?” I begged.
He kept moving his fingers, but didn’t answer. I clenched my fists, trying hard to hold my pleasure back. “Patrick, please, I’m begging…” I groaned.
His mouth was on the small of my back again; he kissed me softly. “Come for me, Lisa,” he ordered, and the crop flicked on my clitoris. Every muscle in my body clenched tight and I erupted in orgasm, screaming his name. Everything went hazy; the world blacked out, and all I could feel was the tremors running through my body, and the softening clenches of my pussy.
The instant clarity returned to me, I groaned in discomfort. Now that my lust had been satiated, at least for the moment, the bloating and cramping rushed back to the forefront, and I wriggled on the table in pain.
He watched me for a second. Then he laughed indulgently and untied me. “Go,” he said.
***
In the bathroom, once I was done with expelling the enema and cleaning the nozzle, I washed my hands, and quickly trying to finger comb my hair into something remotely alluring. I’d closed the door when I had walked in, and I could hear him outside the door. He knocked.
“Lisa,” he said, threat in his voice. “If you aren’t out quickly, I’m going to make sure I accompany you the next time, to help speed up the process.”
My eyes went wide. He wouldn’t, would he? I decided not to test his resolve; opening the door instantly. “I’m sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I said, as meekly as I could. I was certain I didn’t want him in the bathroom while I expelled the enema. That was simply not erotic for me.
He laughed. “I was just joking,” he said, his lips twitching, “but it certainly got you moving quickly. Come on, back to the table with you.”
I mock-growled at him, and he just laughed harder. “Baby, you are asking to be spanked, you know,” he said easily. I did know. I really liked when he put me across my lap and punished me.
Chapter 18
Lisa:
I took up my position again; he didn’t tie me down this time. “Be a good girl,” was all he said to me, his hands on the cheeks of my ass. His fingers were once again at my bud, spreading lube into me. One finger entered me fully, and I groaned in pleasure, pushing back against him.
Perhaps it was my orgasm from earlier, perhaps it was how slowly he was proceeding, but my pussy was damp again, and I wanted this; I wanted to feel his fingers in my ass.
He added a second finger, pushing in, twisting; widening my tightest of passages. I winced in anticipation of the pain, but there wasn’t any; just a feeling of fullness that was strangely erotic. I felt wanton; liberated as I pushed against him again.
He pulled his fingers out; pumped them back into me. Fully out, then in again; forcing my tight bud to relax, to permit him entry. I groaned; I realized I was moving, pushing back on him on each thrust. The thought was shocking, and with the shock came arousal, powerful and potent. My pussy clenched in need.
He moved away for an instant, returning with something. “This is a string of anal beads,” he said. “They’ll help open you up.”
I took a deep breath, willing away the tendril of fear that had risen. I didn’t have much time to wonder if I could take the beads though, because he quickly pushed two of them into my asshole. I groaned, but I could hear myself, and the sound was more arousal than pain. Patrick heard the tone too, and pushed another bead into me.
“Nice,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“My pussy’s dripping,” I replied honestly. He laughed, warmth and pleasure in this voice.
“Good,” he said. His fingers pushed another bead into me, and now there was a feeling of fullness in me. Not uncomfortable, not after the enema. Just a heightened awareness that there were four anal beads in me.
The crop found my ass with a flick, and I straightened; Patrick had caught me slumping again. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I wanted to hold position; I needed to please him. He just kissed my shoulder in reply.
“You are perfect,” he said softly. “I’m going to fuck your ass now,” he continued.
“Yes,” I said. I was so ready; the beads had opened me up, and I wanted to feel him drive into me. He pulled the beads out, and I could hear the zipper being undone, his pants falling to the floor, the tearing of a condom wrapper. Kneeling as I was, I was the perfect height for his cock to push into me.
He added another squirt of lube in me, then moved so that his cock was at the entrance of my asshole. “Push back into me,” he ordered. I obeyed; everything was hazy with lust now, and I wanted him, any way I could have him. I pushed, bit my lip as my asshole stretched to accommodate his thick head.
“Almost there,” he said tensely. He had displayed such impeccable control that I’d lost sight of the fact that this scene was one of his fantasies. “Push back again, baby,” he said evenly. His hands were stroking my sides, radiating calm certainty that I would find this pleasurable.
I pushed back; I trusted him. I felt my asshole yield, and his head popped into my tight anal passage.
He groaned. “Fuck, Lisa, you are so tight,” he said hoarsely. He held my hips in his hands, and pushed into me gently, maddeningly slow, till I couldn’t take it anymore, and pushed my ass towards him, burying h
is cock in my anus.
He laughed. “Such impatience,” he teased. He pulled out, slid back into me again. Strange pleasure was rising in me. This was nothing like the first time I’d had anal sex; that experience had been painful and I had no desire to repeat it. But this was erotic; there was something about the forbidden nature of the act; of the way my ass was yielding to his hard cock that caused my pussy to drip.
“Please,” I begged.
“Please what, sweetness?” he asked me. “Tell me what you want.”
“Please, Patrick, take me hard…” I ground out. I wanted him to claim me; to take me in a way that would please him; I wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given me.
He stroked my hips just for an instant, and then he pulled out and thrust back into me. It was a hard stroke, but controlled. I bit my lips and pushed back towards him.
“More, please, don’t stop,” I begged him.
“Ah, Lisa,” he groaned, his fingers reaching around to find my clitoris. He sped up; thrusting more steadily now, setting a rhythm that was echoed in his fingers grinding into my clitoris, and I came almost as soon as his fingers touched me, crying and pushing back into him in a frenzy of need. He slowed down, just a little, as I thrashed out my climax, but then he moved again, and this time, he moved hard and fast and steady, and I held on for the ride, every nerve ending pulsing and tingling. Finally, he exploded in me with a choked-off shout, and we both collapsed on the table.
I turned on my side to look at him as soon my breathing turned normal. I had a big smile on my face, as I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him. “Thank you,” I said.
He smiled at me. “I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you,” he said. He pulled me into his body, and we just lay there for a while; me, still in my bra and stockings and garter belt; Patrick, naked; our legs intertwined, our hands held.
Chapter 19
Patrick:
Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series Page 11
