Sure, we’d been having unprotected sex for two months, ever since our amazing wedding night. We’d been purposefully trying to make a baby. And I’d told her that I wanted her to tie me up—but only when she was pregnant.
I knew that now I’d feel differently about doing some of my favorite, dirty things to her. And I’d also feel that she was all powerful— the woman who not only stole my heart but is also carrying my child. Now is the time for her to be in charge, and for me to just lay back and enjoy whatever she intends to do to me.
I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she intends to do a lot to me.
“Are you ready?” Liz asks, as she glides off the bed and moves towards me. Her cute, perky tits sway slightly as she bends forward to bring her face level with mine. Soon they’re going to be bigger, and even more beautiful. "I’ve been waiting for tonight for so many different reasons.”
“Me too,” I tell her.
She wraps her arm around mine and pulls me onto the bed. Then she pushes me up against one of the posts at its head. I’m surprised by her strength, and I like the way she’s taking charge.
She props up some pillows behind my back and spreads my arms wide. She smells like spring perfume mixed with the fresh air of being outside not too long ago.
I love how she smells. Looks. Tastes. I love everything about her. Especially the way that she’s tying me up.
I hear a clinking sound to my left and then to my right as she handcuffs each of my wrists. Then Liz rests a hand on my thigh and puts her other arm on my chest, smiling a very naughty smile.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I ask, half-jokingly.
I’m seriously intrigued though. I had told her to do this, but I didn’t know she’d be so good at it.
"Whatever I want to do," she says, bending her face towards mine and taking my mouth in hers.
Her lips find mine and then her tongue slips inside. She holds onto my face as she draws me closer to her for a deeper, stronger kiss.
Her small but strong hands rub on my chest and then she moves her beautiful face down and begins to suck on my nipples. I can’t think, I can’t say anything. All I can do is moan as pleasure runs through my entire body, anticipating what my wife will do next.
She reaches a hand down and grabs my eager cock. She moves her hands expertly all over my balls, massaging them, rubbing them, pleasuring them.
As she bends down and wraps her hand around my shaft, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to enjoy this. I already feel ready to explode. Her fingers move up and down the shaft of my cock as her tongue expertly darts out to kiss its head. She swirls her tongue around and then licks me up and down.
After only two months, my wife seems to know my body so well. Every time I feel close to climax, she backs off, looking up at me with her bedroom eyes before putting her head back down on my cock to continue.
I love that I’m tied to the bed, that even if I wanted her to stop, she wouldn’t. And that there’s nothing I could do to change that.
“Get on top of me, Baby,” I beg her, wanting my cock to fill her pussy before I come in her mouth.
But she just shakes her head at me, teasing me.
“You know I’m in charge now,” she whispers, shaking her amazing tits at me. “It’s what you wanted.”
She reaches a hand down and plays with herself while she takes my cock into her mouth once again. I had thought I was as hard as I could get for her, but she’s just proven me wrong. She spreads her legs open and I watch her rub her clit and stick her finger in her pussy hole as she continues eating my cock.
Finally, she makes herself come, nearly gagging as she forces my cock back into the deepest part of her throat while her fingers rub her clit wildly, forcefully.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she chokes into my cock.
I’m dangerously close to coming myself. I don’t want to let that happen. I need to come in her sweet, wet pussy.
I can’t stop groaning, begging her to fuck me.
“Please, Liz, please let me in your pussy. Please.”
“Okay, my husband,” she finally says, relieving me from the agony of trying not to come in her mouth.
She takes my cock out of her mouth and glides up to me along our silk sheets. Her hands return to my chest and then to my super erect cock.
Finally, she climbs on top of me, smiling that naughty grin again.
“Since you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you,” she purrs.
She moves her hands behind her and caresses my balls. Then she grabs my cock and maneuvers its tip to her pussy lips.
She teases me against herself for a moment before sliding down, engulfing my cock in her pussy. I moan— and so does she— as she starts to work herself up and down my cock, up and down as her tits bounce against my chest. She bends forward slightly and sucks on my nipples as she works my cock around in her pussy.
She bends down to kiss me and her lips taste so sweet as we moan together, and she bounces harder and faster up and down on my cock.
“I’m coming,” she calls out, her pussy getting even more slippery, sliding up and down my cock even more. “Derek, I’m coming.”
“Stop for a minute,” I tell her, practically begging again. I don’t want this to be over. I want this to last forever. Or at least until our baby arrives. “I’m about to come too.”
She doesn’t stop riding me or kissing me.
“Don’t fight it,” she says. “I’m in charge. And I want you to come. Come for me, my husband.”
So, I do. I have no choice. I’m tied down and I’m captive to her every command, just as I’d requested.
My cock explodes and my cum shoots into her pussy.
“Yes, my husband,” Liz says, continuing to ride me through the crashing waves of bliss and heat and pleasure.
We pant together, both too exhausted and weak to be able to speak for a minute. Then she climbs part way off of me, squatting mid-way. I look down to see my cum gushing out of her pussy, just the way she knows I like to see it.
“You came in me,” she says. “You’d better watch out or you’ll get me pregnant.”
I laugh.
“A little too late for that. Untie me so I can hold you, my lover. My wife. Mother of my child.”
She does so, and then she rests her head on me, her hands tracing the contours of my chest.
“I love your muscles and your tattoos,” she tells me.
“I don’t really look like a dad though, do I?” I ask her.
“That’s a good thing,” she says, looking up at me and smiling. “Please don’t go getting a dad bod. I don’t care how cool Leonardo DiCaprio says they are— I like you toned and fit.”
“And I love your fucking curves,” I tell her, slapping her ass for good measure.
But I can’t get a thought out of my mind.
“I may not look like a dad, and I never used to think I’d be one, but I’m ready,” I tell her, as she nods in agreement. “But what if I’m not a good one? I don’t know anything about being a dad.”
“You’ll learn,” she says, craning her neck to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re going to be a great dad.”
I move my hand up from her ass to her stomach, tracing it the way she was just tracing my chest.
“I can’t even tell anything’s different,” I confess.
“Not yet,” she says, burying her face into my chest and trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back her laughter. “A baby bump might not even come well into the second trimester. I read all about it on BabyCenter.”
“You definitely know how to do your online research,” I tell her, joining in with her laughter now.
“I know how to remember details of what makes the most beautiful, lavish wedding, especially when I don’t even know it’ll actually be mine,” she says, gazing into my eyes again. “And I know how to find out what pregnancy will be like. But you’re right. I have no idea how to be a mom either. I didn’t exactly have the best example.
”
I put my arm around her and snuggle her tight, bending down to kiss her hair. I can’t believe my good fortune, how she’s changed my life for the better and how I know that it will just keep getting even more amazing, even if it is rather scary.
“Well, we’ll figure it out together,” I tell her. “Like we did everything else. From the moment your mom dragged you into my office, I knew I had to have you. I just didn’t know to what extent. And I don’t regret a single moment of it. I know that we can handle anything together, and I’m excited for what this journey will bring.”
“You always know just what to say,” she says, her voice getting softer and trailing off as her eyelids begin to droop. “You’re the best husband ever.”
“You’re the best wife ever,” I tell her, as I lay my head down on the pillow and get ready to fall into a restful sleep with my wife and the mother of my future child. “And I’m so glad that we made this real.”
Deleted Scene/ Elizabeth Jane’s Diary Entry
Elizabeth Jane
As my mom drives me home from the doctor’s appointment where Dr. Monroe fucked my brains out, I find it ironic that she’s the one who looks satisfied. I want to laugh, but I also don’t want to let her in on the secret of what really goes on during the doctor’s appointments she herself set up and insisted I go to, so as to certify my physical and mental purity.
I'm still happy my fantasies became a reality with Dr. Monroe. If my mom only knew that he stuffed his big cock inside me after ramming it down my throat, she’d never let me go back for another appointment. Or, more likely, she’d die of jealousy.
I don’t think my mom’s been touched by a man since my dad left her crochety ass years ago. And it’s obvious to me that she has the not-so-secret hots for Dr. Monroe.
“Dr. Monroe continues to note positive progress,” Mom tells me, staring at the road in front of her while smiling smugly. “But you must really be a wreck, because even though he said you passed the physical portion of the exam, he reports that he needs to continue seeing you for future appointments. Apparently, he hasn't even begun to examine your mental state. The jury’s still out on that one.”
She says it as if she’s pleased. I guess she’s happy she’s screwed up my head. A childhood and adolescence spent living with her would do that to anyone.
I hate that I have to keep living with her so that I can afford to go to college. I can’t wait to graduate and move far away from her, though. I know I’ll never look back.
“Mom, there’s nothing wrong with my mental state…” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“You are your father’s daughter, after all,” she continues. “And both of you have the tendency to be immoral, selfish people, and disgustingly filthy when it comes to s-e-x.”
I sigh, realizing it’s not worth it to fight with her. She has her mind made up about me and obviously wants to drive me away, just as I'm sure she did to my dad.
As long as I get to see hot Dr. Monroe again, I really don’t care what Mom says to me. She can berate me and make me feel horrible, but being with Dr. Monroe always makes me feel better.
I’m glad that he wants to keep “examining” my physical state in his doctor’s office. He can spread me wide open any time he wants and do anything else he wants to do to me, too. Just so long as he doesn't tell my mother!
When we get home, I retreat to my room to write tonight's diary entry about Dr. Monroe. I love fantasizing about all the dirty, naughty things he does to me and even more things that I hope he does to me soon.
This is what I write:
I'm supposed to have a private, one on one appointment with Dr. Monroe. But when I walk into the lobby, the doors open, but no one’s here. I look around, crestfallen that he would forget about the appointment he specifically requested that my mother call and make.
Wasn’t he looking forward to one on one time with me? I wonder. It sure seemed that way when we were in his office last time.
Then I notice something black and leather, strewn over one of the chairs. It's a strange-looking outfit. And along with it is a note.
Wear this and meet me in the examination room.
I pick up the outfit and can’t believe how skimpy it is. It consists of a halter top, with some flaps of fabric that cover the breast area, and then it has two strips of leather running down each side, with chains across the stomach area.
The bottom is like a bathing suit, except that there’s a v-like slit through the vagina area, which can expose everything by simply moving the fabric open. And underneath the armchair is a pair of long, high black boots.
Oh great, I think. He wants me to be some kind of BDSM submissive now.
I want to be repulsed. But I feel a trickle of wetness in my panties. I look at the size of the outfit and boots and they match my own. I feel flattered that Dr. Monroe took the time to find an outfit that would fit me just right.
Maybe my mom is right, I think. Maybe I am depraved. A sexual deviant. Someone who enjoys sexual pain and humiliation.
But I remove my clothes and start putting on the outfit anyway. Partly I do it because Dr. Monroe needs to give a good report to my mom, so I know I’m completely subject to his whims. But partly it’s because I like being subjected to his whims. And I want to see where all of this leads.
I tiptoe into the exam room, careful to clasp my sweater tight around my black leather outfit. It shows so much skin that I’m practically naked. Even though I don’t mind Dr. Monroe seeing me this way— in fact, the thought of it very much turns me on— I’m afraid there might be someone else in the office, which would be humiliating.
“Yes, Elizabeth Jane, come on in,” says Dr. Monroe, standing up from where he was seated in a rolling chair.
A visible glimmer of happiness flashes in his eyes, which I can see from the dark entranceway to the classroom. I feel good about my ability to elicit such a welcoming response, but I guess Dr. Monroe feels embarrassed about it, because his tone suddenly changes.
“You’re late. You’ve kept me waiting. That’s not being a very good, submissive little patient."
I stop in my tracks and tense up. What exactly does he have in mind to do to me?
“Close the door, Elizabeth Jane,” Dr. Monroe instructs me. “And for Christ’s sake, take off that awful sweater. It looks like some sort of grandmother’s shawl. That’s not what I left for you to put on, and you know it.”
I gulp, but obediently drop the sweater onto the floor. I’m standing here nearly fully exposed, in the outfit he had given me to wear.
“Welcome to my continued examination of you,” Dr. Monroe says, turning on his dictation machine and recording every word. “You are the subject I'll be studying today.”
Dr. Monroe approaches me and gently kisses my cheek.
And then he unfastens the thin piece of fabric covering my left breast. My nipple is exposed to him. He speaks louder now.
“I have already recorded how controlling and strict your mother is. How she caught you masturbating and sent you to me, the family doctor to be examined.”
He is half laughing as he says this, and even though I know my mother is ridiculous, I feel defensive. I feel stupid that I have such a crazy mother, but at the same time I feel strangely protective of her.
Dr. Monroe unfastens the fabric covering my right breast so that now both of my nipples are exposed to him. He stands behind me and begins circling my nipples with his fingers, breathing into my neck as he speaks. I'm quickly aroused by his touch.
“I think your mother’s attempts to control you have backfired, and now you’ll let me do anything I want with you, and enjoy it.”
He circles once, twice, squeezing my nipples with his fingers, until all my senses become aroused. I can smell the chalk on the chalkboard. I can smell his masculine cologne.
“Now I'm tasked with studying the mental state of a young woman who was raised to hate sex but instead loves it.”
He takes my hands
and leads me to a wall behind the examination table. I see for the first time that there are hooks on the wall. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m intrigued.
Dr. Monroe lays me down on the examination table. Then he takes my arms and ties them to the hooks behind me. Finally, just as I was hoping he would do, he opens my legs wide. He opens the “v” of the fabric barely covering my pussy, until it’s not covering it any more at all.
“If I leave your legs untied, will you be a compliant patient?” Dr. Monroe asks.
He is looking at me as if he wants to devour me, like the lion in the wild that Diana's favorite professor, Dr. Calvert, likes to tell us about. Once again, I feel vulnerable and scared, but also strangely excited and turned on. He always knows just how to give me a mix of every kind of emotion.
“Yes, Dr. Monroe."
I know deep down that even though I'm scared, I'll let him do whatever he wants to do with me, and I’ll enjoy it. As long as it doesn’t hurt too much.
“I'm going to hold both of your legs wide open so that you don’t start kicking around in either pain or pleasure, or both,” Dr. Monroe says into the recording device.
I cringe when I hear the word “pain” but I wait obediently for whatever will happen next.
Then Dr. Monroe bends over to the floor, where his briefcase is sitting. And he takes out a very large vibrator.
“I know you enjoy being finger fucked, because it makes you feel like a dirty little slut,” he tells me. “And now you’re going to be my dirty little slut. So, let’s see how you enjoy being primed for my big dick.”
He grabs my legs and forces them apart. Then he puts the vibrator deep into my pussy. As he does so, he takes his cock out of his pants and begins jerking off to the sight of my pussy being fucked by a vibrator.
"Your pussy is so wide open and wet for this vibrator, Elizabeth Jane," Dr. Monroe says, turning it further and deeper inside me and then angling it so it can hum up against my clit as well. "I love watching your pussy squirm as it fucks you."
I writhe around on the examination table, feeling good as the vibrator fucks me good and hard. It’s nothing like Dr. Monroe's cock, but it still feels great.
Tackled by the Team Page 69
