“Hang in there, baby. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.” He sat at the bedside and removed a six pack of bottled water from his bag, frowning as he placed it on the nightstand. “You didn’t drink your tea. It would have soothed your throat.”
“My stomach was too queasy. I think I’m dying, Ethan.” Aching deep in her bones, she rolled on her side and curling up in a ball, peeked at him over a pile of covers.
“I’m sure it’s a virus or the flu. Let’s get your temperature first.”
He unloaded his bag full of jars and small boxes, and then tore open a package. As he removed an old fashioned glass thermometer, she emphatically shook her head. “No way, Ethan. I’m too sick to play, and you are not getting anywhere near my rear end with that thing.”
“Hush.” He showed her the tip. “See, it’s blue. That means oral use only, so be a good girl and hold this under your tongue.”
Accusing him falsely made her feel worse, so she obediently opened and did her best to hold the thermometer under her tongue with her mouth shut. She found it impossible when she couldn’t breathe through her stopped up nose. Because of this, Ethan left it in for five before reading it.
“One-oh-two point five. You’re a sick baby. Sit up for a minute and take your medicine.” He opened a bottle of water and held out two ibuprofen. Swallowing the pills with a raw burning throat was painful. A cupful of cough syrup came next. She tossed it back quickly. Like a shot of Bacardi 151, it burned all the way down and made her shudder violently. Holding her sore throat as she swallowed, she grimaced at the fake cherry flavor, which did little to mask the awful taste.
Ethan rubbed her back as she slumped forward, face planting into his chest. “The medicine will make you feel better. Drink up that water. You need to stay hydrated until the fever comes down.”
After she handed him the empty bottle, she flopped weakly back against the pillows. Starting to chill again and feeling the ache into her bones, she tugged up the covers, intent on burrowing deep and contemplating her untimely death, which she felt sure was at hand.
“Wait.” Stopping the ascent of the sheets and comforter, he reached into the bag and announced, “I’ve got one more thing. Pull up your nightgown.”
“But I’m freezing.”
“Don’t fuss. Be a good girl and do it.”
Pouting like a cranky five-year-old in need of a nap, she pulled up her gown to her waist.
“All the way up to your shoulders, Lanie, so I can rub on the salve.”
When he opened the jar of Vick’s Vapor Rub, she grimaced in protest. “I hate that stuff.”
“It will help unstop your nose so you can breathe and fall asleep.” He slathered a generous glob of the stinky goo on her chest and began rubbing it in.
“Yuk! That is so gross.”
“You are a terrible patient.” After he was done and had wiped his hands on a towel, he helped her straighten her gown and tucked her back in. “Try to get some sleep, baby. I’m going to make you some chicken broth since you didn’t like the tea.”
“I don’t think I can stomach it. I feel kind of sick.” As soon as she said it, her stomach roiled and a wave of nausea swept over her. Pushing the covers and Ethan aside, she flew to the bathroom. She was heaving when he followed her in. “Go away. I’m dying.”
Wetting a cool cloth, he lifted her damp hair and placed it around her neck. She sighed at the coolness against her hot skin. He wet another and wiped her face, reaching around her to flush the toilet. “You lost your medicine.”
“I don’t think I can take anymore, Ethan. It’ll come back up. I don’t want to throw up again, it burns and my throat is so sore already.”
“We need to get your fever down.” He rinsed out the rag under cold water and wiped her face again. “How about a tepid bath?”
It wasn’t really a question because before she could answer, he was already moving to the tub to fill it. Ignoring her complaints, he eased her into the tub and began scooping large handfuls of the lukewarm water over her back, chest and shoulders. When she began to shiver with cold, he helped her out and bundled her in a fluffy towel before carrying her back to bed.
“Still one-oh-two,” he murmured after taking her temperature again. “I’m calling Dr. Foster. Maybe he can call something in.”
“Not him, Ethan. He’s got some kind of weird anal fixation. All he ever orders is suppositories.”
“I’ll ask for that Phenergan gel for the nausea. If we can get that under control you can take the rest by mouth.”
Dr. Foster was on call and did order the anti-nausea gel which Ethan paid extra to have delivered. He sat next to her in bed, keeping watch as she coughed and moaned at intervals, the fever and chills making her toss and turn restlessly. He didn’t leave her side until the doorbell rang.
In a few minutes he returned with a grim look on his face. “Bad news, sweetheart. The pharmacy was out of the gel. They sent these instead.” He held up a clear bag filled with six silver foil wrapped suppositories.
“Kill me now,” she whispered hoarsely as she buried her head under the pillow. “Get me some flat ginger ale to soothe my stomach and I’ll be fine.”
“Let’s get it over with so you can start feeling better.”
His voice sounded distant. When she peeked at him, he had already retrieved the KY Jelly from the bathroom.
“No! I don’t want a suppository. They burn.”
“You’re acting childish, Lanie. You have to take the medicine.”
A wave of nausea hit her and she was off to the toilet again. Her chest hurting and her throat on fire, she collapsed on the floor whimpering. Tenderly, he stroked her with a cool cloth until it passed. Then, he scooped her up off the cold tile floor and carried her back to the bed. Instead of tucking her back under the covers, he sat at the bedside with her on his lap.
“I’m done with this foolishness. Like it or not, you’re taking your medicine.” Before she could react, he had her over his lap with her nightgown hiked up above her waist.
“No, Ethan! I don’t want it.”
“You’re being silly. Hold still.”
She bucked against him, kicking and pushing him away. “I said no, dammit.”
He hauled her back into position and smacked her bare ass twice. “Quit fighting me. I’m in charge here, Lanie Fischer, and you will do what I say.”
She wailed in protest, clamping her butt cheeks firmly together, like the jaws of a snapping turtle. Her legs sticking rigidly out behind her as she struggled. “I can’t believe how mean you’re being, Ethan,” she cried. “I’m sick.”
“Unclench your bottom, Lanie.” He swatted her again and waited.
“No! I hate you!”
He swatted her again, blazing her cheeks with a half dozen stinging slaps. “You don’t mean that. You’re feverish and not yourself. I don’t want to spank you or give you medicine you don’t want, but I love you and want you to get better. So, are you going to cooperate, or do you need a dozen more?”
Stubborn as can be, she resisted and he didn’t relent until she got eight of the promised twelve. In the end, she gave in and although hardly relaxed, she unclenched enough for him to spread her cheeks apart. Quickly, his fingers applied the cool lubricant and he inserted the hard bullet shaped suppository. She sucked in a quick breath as he pressed it inside, pushing it in farther than Lanie thought was necessary. But she remained silent, too tired to lodge another protest that would only be ignored, anyway.
Ethan patted her bottom gently as he held her in place for a moment. “There, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Easy for you to say, you don’t have a burning bullet shoved up your ass.”
“Language, Lanie.”
“Can I get up now?”
“Not yet. There’s one more.”
Her hair whipped around as she twisted to look at him. “Another one? What for?”
“That was the Phenergan for nausea. Dr. Foster also sent along some Tylenol supposito
ries.”
“I told you he had a butt fetish.”
“Maybe he does, but in this case it’s necessary. Are you going to be good this time?”
“It’s not like I have a choice.”
“Oh, but you do. You can fight me and take the medicine after another spanking, or do it the easy way, be good and let me slide it in. It will take all of five seconds.” While he spoke, he put a dollop of gel on the suppository and gently touched her bottom. Resolved to this medical torture she acquiesced, silently giving her answer by lying quietly over his lap. This time when he parted her cheeks, there was no fuss, and the medicine slipped easily up inside. This one was a bit larger and she hissed as he pushed it up inside her burning channel.
“I’m sorry I had to do that, baby, but at least we’re all done. Let’s get you back to bed.”
He laid her back on the pillows, pulled up the covers, and went to wash his hands. By the time he came back, she was feeling guilty. Regret over what she’d said stung her eyes. “I’m sorry for being such a brat, honey. I just feel like crap.” Her apology ended with a sniffle as he bundled her close.
“I know you didn’t mean it.”
Her eyes flew open. “Oh my God! I said I hated you. Ethan! I didn’t mean it.” A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and another. “I love you, honey. I can’t believe I said those hateful words.”
“Shh, baby, don’t cry.” He pulled her into his chest and with his arms wrapped tightly around her, rocked her back and forth. “You’re sick and don’t feel good. I didn’t take it to heart.”
“Forgive me?”
“Always.”
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course. I’ll be right here until you’re better, Lanie.”
“You’re good at this, Ethan,” her yawn making her words almost indistinguishable. “You’re gonna make a great daddy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan made her stay in bed until her fever was gone and tacked on an additional twenty-four hours—to avoid a setback, he said—which ended up being five full days of bed rest. He stayed home from work to take care of her, bathing and dressing her, seeing that she took her medicine, including the medicine Dr. Foster prescribed when he made his house call the next day. He also cooked, cleaned and caught up on the laundry. From her vantage point in bed, she watched him fold and put away a basket full of her underthings and found it incredibly sexy.
It was day five of her sick room incarceration and she was going stir crazy. When he walked in the room with an armful of clean towels, she pounced on him, begging for an early parole. “Please, Ethan, I feel fine. I’ll sit on the couch and rest, I swear, but I need to get out of this room.”
Standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips, he studied her closely. She knew she looked better having taken a shower, fixed her hair, and for the first time in days applied makeup. She’d also slipped on one of his favorite nightgowns, a damask rose sheath of satin and lace, which molded to her curves. The daring neckline and thin spaghetti straps exposed a lot of creamy skin. She used this to her advantage as she leaned forward expectantly, gazing up with wide, innocent eyes and a generous amount of cleavage. As if she’d planned it, one of the straps slipped off her shoulder. She had to hide a grin when she saw his eyes follow.
“You do look much better. As beautiful as ever, in fact.” As his eyes swept over her, his lips curved up slowly and his dimple appeared. She saw a spark of sexual interest she hadn’t seen while he’d been playing doctor these past few days. “Okay, you’re released from sickbay, but I want to check your temperature one more time to be safe.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, in a moment, he reappeared in the process of shaking down the old school glass thermometer. Lanie promptly opened her mouth and lifted her tongue, eager to do whatever he wanted in order to get a taste of freedom.
“Dr. Foster told me the best temperature is a core reading and he gave me a special thermometer. This will determine absolutely if you’re ready to get up.”
She blinked up at him, her eyes shifting to his hands and the red tipped thermometer. She hadn’t noticed the tube of jelly until now. She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t think so.” So much for doing whatever he wanted.
“Really? Okay, stay in bed, but I’ll need a reading before you’re released. Now or later is up to you.”
“Ethan!”
“Lanie.”
She glared at him, then asked for clarification, “Are we playing?”
“Yes, little girl, but only if your temperature is still down. I’m very serious about that, so you have to do one to get the other.”
Frowning up at him, she saw the familiar gleam in his eye. He’d called her little girl; she should have never said the word daddy the other day—it obviously gave him ideas. She stuck out her bottom lip and in a childish whiny voice said, “Okay, but afterward I want ice cream.”
He grinned at her and took a seat, patting his lap to show her where he wanted her. As she moved into position, he touched the fabric of her gown smoothing it over her ass. “I love this color on you.” His fingers teased along the lace hem that, in this position, had risen to the uppermost slope of her thigh. It tickled and she squirmed. Abruptly, her gown was whisked over her head, the satin slithering to the floor at his feet leaving her bare.
“I don’t want the lube to stain it.”
His hand swept over her back in long strokes, his movements slow and deliberate. She could feel him pressing hard against her belly and knew positively he was in a mood to play. Five days was a long drought for them. She wondered how hungry he was; would it make for a quick tease or a long drawn out torture. Either way, she definitely wouldn’t be bored anymore. Despite the upcoming anal probe, she felt her pussy dampen with arousal.
A rude squirting noise broke the quiet of the room, like when someone tries to get the last drop of ketchup out of the bottle. Startling and unexpected, it made her jump.
“Relax, baby.”
As his hand returned, stroking her bottom this time, she tried to. She almost succeeded. His gentle touch felt so good that she allowed her muscles to ease. Another minute she would be boneless and limp, putty in his hands. Then she heard, “Afterward, if your temp is normal, we’ll have a little exam.”
She went from slack and serene, to tense and disturbed in two seconds. “What kind of exam?”
“A simple medical check-up to make sure everything is okay after your illness. Did I ever tell you I started out pre-med?”
She shook her head, not processing much after the word “exam.” His fingers gently touched her bottom and she flinched, hard, almost falling off his lap.
“Easy,” he murmured as he spread her cheeks and pressed a slick finger into her tight hole. As his broad finger penetrated, she let out a small squeak, more from distress at the awkward situation than any real discomfort.
“Relax, Lanie, and breathe. It’s only my finger; you’ve had it here before. I want to get you all slick so the glass won’t drag on your skin when I take your temperature. This thermometer is a little wider and it has to go in far enough to get an accurate reading.”
While he pushed in farther, he angled and rotated his finger every which way, spreading the lubricant all around. He kept at it until Lanie relaxed again. Then she felt it, the beginnings of a prickling sensation in her bottom. She squirmed on his lap, trying to ease it some, but it didn’t abate.
“Be still, Lanie.”
“I can’t. Something feels weird, Ethan. Kind of tingly and itchy in my bottom.”
“Does it?” He paused and she felt him move behind her. He placed a tube labeled pleasure cream on the nightstand. “I might have picked up the tingling gel by mistake.”
She snorted her skepticism a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue. ‘Mistake my burning ass’ was what she wanted to say, but prudence won out considering the proximity of his hands to her very available bare behind and
she toned it down a bit.
“If you’ll excuse my saying so, sir, that is a load of bull. You don’t make mistakes like that.”
“No matter, it does the job just fine. You’re nice and slick.”
He pressed his finger deeper working his finger well beyond what was required for a simple temperature reading.
“As I started to say earlier, while in pre-med, I took anatomy, a basic physical assessment class, as well as some of the other pre-requisites. They were interesting and I learned a lot—or at least enough to be dangerous.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He chuckled softly, but didn’t respond, carrying on as if she hadn’t spoken. “I found I disliked microbiology, chemistry and the endless terminology. So I switched to criminology, which is a complete U-turn, but I was an impulsive twenty-year old. I also had a hard on for Susan Dey from L.A. Law, which may have played a hand in it.”
“You changed major’s because of a TV show?” Her voice cut off abruptly as he slipped in a second finger, twisting and stretching her more, preparing her thoroughly, which at this point was overkill. She didn’t complain, however, since the stimulation helped to offset the tingling and burning from the gel.
“Not a show, a character. I guess I had a thing for sexy blonde attorneys even back then. It seems to have worked out well for me.” As he played, a tingling began between her thighs, moisture gathering with each stroke and twist of his fingers. Soon the burning ache in her pussy eclipsed the one his fingers and the pleasure gel had ignited in ass. She was hard pressed to contain a groan, biting her lip to help stifle it.
“My semesters in pre-med didn’t all go to waste. I picked up a few skills that come in handy when taking care of a sick girl, don’t you think?”
He spread his fingers, stretching her wide until a moan slipped out, unintended. It felt that good. He abruptly pulled out and replaced his fingers with the thermometer, the narrow glass barely perceptible after his broad fingers. When it was in far enough for his satisfaction, he anchored it securely between two fingers. The warmth of his hand as it spread across her bottom felt nice and his other hand began to stroke up and down her back again in long slow glides.
Lanie's Lessons Page 17