by Eva Luxe
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.
I feel almost embarrassed knowing that he's watching me in the most vulnerable of positions, with my legs spread wide open and a vibrator jammed inside my pussy. But I also have to admit that I love the fact that I'm turning him on by being so turned on myself.
“This toy is extremely wet,” Dr. Monroe says, pulling the vibrator out and continuing to speak into the tape. “The more sexually repressed a young woman is, the more she’ll get turned on when she’s finally able to find a release.”
He places the vibrator— definitely dripping wet with my pussy juice— on my clit, almost expertly so. I can’t help but moan as it works on my most sensitive of areas. I raise my hips instinctively, wanting it— or better yet, its real, live counterpart— inside me, but not wanting to seem too slutty by begging for it.
Before I know it, I'm coming all over the vibrator, moaning and shouting as I do.
"Dr. Monroe. I'm coming. I'm coming!"
"Go ahead and keep coming," he says, rubbing the dildo all over my clit.
I feel another orgasm rising within me before the first one is even finished making its way out.
"I'm coming again. Again!"
"I know you are, my slutty little patient. Come for me, over and over."
"Oh, my God, Oh, my God," I moan, panting and moaning.
"Please stop for a second," I call out, trying to sit up and push the vibrator away with my hands.
But my hands are tied up and I can't do anything about the continuing hum of the vibrator attacking my clit.
"It's all right, Elizabeth Jane, my little slutty whore of a patient," Dr. Monroe says, in a near whisper although there's no reason to be quiet since no one else is around. He smiles at me. "Just when you think you can't take it anymore is when you'll have the biggest orgasm yet. And that's when you'll be sufficiently pleasured and primed to take my huge cock inside you."
"Dr. Monroe," I gasp, twisting and writhing on the table. "I can't take it. It's too sensitive. I'm going to explode."
I really do feel like I could die of pleasure. He squeezes my ass and then shoves the vibrator deep into my pussy. Then he slaps my clit over and over with his cock, violently rubbing it and stabbing me with it.
"Oh, my God," I cry out, a powerful orgasm cascading all through my body.
Dr. Monroe was right. This feels amazing.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I can't stop, please fuck me, I'm coming so much, and it feels so good."
I'm a panting, begging mess, calling out to him to finish me off with his real cock instead of this fake one.
"Please Dr. Monroe, please fuck me. I'm your dirty little whore of a patient and you can do whatever you want to me."
"That's right," Dr. Monroe says. "That's how I knew you would feel. There, there."
He stokes my pussy as I whimper and tremble, utterly spent from the giant orgasm that made its way through my body. My swollen clit pulses and my pussy muscles spasm from the pleasure they've just experienced and from being so sensitive to Dr. Monroe's continued touches.
“Now that your pussy is sufficiently primed by the fake dick— it's wet and aching and swollen and raw for me— I'm going to give you my real one."
Dr. Monroe pushes the head of his cock up against the entrance of my now- throbbing pussy. I immediately clench my pussy around his cock, feeling so grateful to have it inside me at last.
Then he shoves his cock into my pussy, hard and fast.
“Ouch!” I yell, jerking back against the roughness of Dr. Monroe's huge cock. I can't get out of the way though, because he's tied me up. And almost immediately the pleasure outweighs the pain, so I relax.
“There you go, my little naughty nympho," Dr. Monroe coos to me. "You love my big, thick cock inside you, don’t you, my tied-up little whore?”
"Yes," I moan, already about to come again, but this time on his cock.
He keeps a firm finger pressed up against my clit, as if reminding me that he owns it. Then he turns the vibrator back on and rubs it all around my clit as he continues to fuck my pussy hole.
"I'm coming," I whisper, almost wanting to cry from how good it feels. How absolutely powerless and vulnerable he renders me, and how much I love it. "Dr. Monroe, I'm such a slut. I can't stop coming and now
I'm coming all over your big cock."
"I'm going to have to punish you for being such a shameless slut," Dr. Monroe says. It's only what your mother would want."
He retrieves something from the drawer beneath the exam table as he continues to ram his cock into my pussy. I see something long and black. Then I feel something hitting my breasts. There are one, two, three quick lashes.
“Ouch! That hurts!” I yell, pain searing my breasts.
But at the same time, I feel as if I’m about to come again from the mixed sensation of the vibrator on my clit, the stinging pain on my breasts and Dr. Monroe's huge cock shoved deep inside my pussy. I feel absolutely humiliated, knowing that he can see me in my most vulnerable of states. But that humiliation also turns me on, and I find myself writhing and nearly shouting out, all of my sounds being captured on his recording device.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
“Oh yes, you little slut of mine. Come on my big dick,” says Dr. Monroe, as his cock pulses inside me.
But he doesn’t come. He just keeps pounding my pussy while I come for him.
"You're such a dirty, filthy little whore."
Dr. Monroe whips my breasts with the switch and I moan low and deep, surprising myself with the animal sounds I’m making as I come. It feels so good, and so bad, all at once.
“Yes, I’m a slut, who likes to come on your cock!” I yell, heaving and panting as he fucks my brains out.
I love how his cock feels inside me as he's taking me and making me his own, and even as I’m hit with the whip again and again.
I feel both pain and pleasure, just as Dr. Monroe predicted. Mostly, I feel intense pleasure that goes above and beyond everything I’ve experienced in his office to date. I never knew that would be possible, but there’s no denying that here I am on display for him, being submissive to him, being whipped by him, and loving it.
"Elizabeth Jane, I'm going to come now," Dr. Monroe says, squeezing my nipples where he had just hit me with the whip. His cock bulges and throbs inside me. "I love how you let me fuck you until I come."
"I'm coming too," I tell him. I've lost track of the number of times he'd made me come. He twists my nipple with one hand and rubs my clit with the other while we both come together, him grunting guttural sounds and me moaning and crying out his name.
"Dr. Monroe, I want to be your slutty little patient forever," I tell him, when we're both finished but still feel pleasure coursing through us.
"I think you're going to be more than that," he tells me, with a wink.
And this is why I'll keep accepting appointments to be examined by Dr. Monroe. I never knew that having to go see the doctor could be so amazing.
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Knock Me Up, Boss: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Office Romance
Copyright 2017 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1 – Garrett
Marks, Sanchez & Reed.
As I pull up to the law firm where it seems I’ll be spending the next however many years of my life, I squint at the name on the office building, still not sure how I feel about it. I try to imagine it saying Mark, Sanchez, Reed & Mack.
It’s the “& Mack” part that gives me pause, since I’m the Mack. One half of me feels proud at the potential thought of seeing my name alongside such legal giants at a big posh law firm such as this, while the other half of me wants to throw up for being such a sell out. I guess you could say I have fucking mixed feelings about the whole matter.
I take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, where a receptionist greets me.
“Mr. Mack?” he asks, standing up and coming around to my side of his desk. “My name is Claude and I’ve been expecting you. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand, but I’m thinking, this guy will have to go if I’m to work here.
I already have my own receptionist. And I prefer to have females work for me. When I get bored in between working on cases, it’s also nice to have a flirty conversation with a female assistant, or at least check out her ass as she walks out of my office to bring me another file. I’ve never really understood the point of hiring male assistants.
But then again, I’ve never understood a lot of things that normal law firms do. That’s probably why I’ve never worked at them.
Claude leads me to a conference room where three men are already seated, waiting to meet me. I know that they’re Asher Marks, Cameron “Ron” Sanchez and Jameson “Jim” Reed, the founding partners of the firm.
“Garrett!” Asher says, standing up to shake my hand, as do the other two. We were all in law school together, but it’s been awhile since I’d seen them. When I do see them, it’s often as opposing counsel in court, since I tend to represent “little guy” plaintiffs while they usually represent what I’ve always thought of as big, evil corporations.
“There’s fresh coffee if you need anything,” Claude says, as he retreats towards the door. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Fancy seeing you here,” Cameron says, as they sit back down at their seats and I choose my own.
“I know it is,” I tell them, partly embarrassed that life circumstances have brought me here, while at the same time, grateful for the opportunity. “I made my legal career out of being a rogue independent. But I thought it was time to join society and hook up with a firm.”
They laugh, and I’m glad they don’t press the issue of why I’m here talking to them today. I’m sure they know enough about me— just as I know enough about them— to have weighed the pros and cons and decided to proceed. The real reason I’m here is that my father said the firm, where he’s been a partner for a long time, was looking to expand and that I should join up. Although he’s quite old and half senile, I think he got this one right.
Some good and bad things had happened as the result of my stubborn insistence on owning and running my own law firm. The good thing is that I won some big cases and a hell of a lot of money. If it weren’t for that, I don’t think that these three lawyers would be interested in partnering with me, whether my old man was already a partner at their firm or not.
The bad thing is that I fucked up some other stuff, which I don’t really need to go into detail about, because who likes to recount their losses? Let’s just say that I have the tendency to either win big or lose big. And also the tendency to mix business with pleasure a little too often.
“I know that we’ve already sent over the proposed partnership agreement,” Asher says. “It’s pretty standard stuff and we’re looking to have it start nearly immediately. As you know, our firm has been doing well. We won a large case for a large client— Damien Hudson, the toy company owner, who actually offices here with us and runs his business for at least part of the time out of our offices, so that we can best keep up with his many different legal matters.”
“Yes,” I say, and here I turn to Cameron Sanchez, who is not only Asher’s law partner but his best friend since they were in grade school. “Congratulations on that big win, Cameron.”
“Thank you,” Ron says, and then looks at Asher as if to say, at least someone acknowledges my contribution to our achievements. “It has opened up a lot of opportunities for our firm and in looking into expanding, we were happy to see you were interested.”
“There’s just one little detail we’d like to go over with you before making it official,” Jim says, and I brace myself for what I already suspected would be coming.
What they want to go over with me is the fact that I’m known for sleeping with my subordinates. I decide to make things easier on them.
“Look, guys,” I say, my hands outstretched as if I’m an innocent school boy accused of stealing cookies. “I was used to working on my own, making my own rules, or lack thereof. I had some opportunities to… socially interact with my staff, which I know now isn’t the best idea. Lesson learned.”
They’re still staring at me, as if expecting me to say more, so I repeat, “Lesson learned.”
“Lesson?” Ron asks, intensifying his case. “My understanding is that it has happened repeatedly.”
I tense up, and they must think I’m signaling that the deal might be off. In all reality, I’m just wondering how many they’ve heard about, and trying to count how many there have actually been.
“Look, Garrett,” Ron finally continues. “We don’t want to be killjoys here. We know what it’s like.”
“Believe me,” Asher chimes in. “I know what it’s like. I was just like you before I married my associate.”
“I know,” I tell him, because who hasn’t? Asher was infamous for choosing a new associate to mentor every year, and sleeping with her. But the bombshell had been when he had married one of them.
As if on cue, Madilyn St. Clair— or make that Marks, now, said associate— comes into the conference room, with a baby in each arm. I don’t know much about babies, but they looked about six months old. I’d also heard that Asher and Madilyn had had twins.
“Hey honey,” she says, nodding at Asher. “Sorry I can’t make this meeting. I know I had said I would try, but the nanny still isn’t feeling better so she brought me the twins on her way home, and I’m going to try to finish the Stephenson brief if I can get them to nap in my office and then I’ll head home with them.”
“No problem,” Asher says, waving a hand at his wife. “They’re more important. Good luck.”
“Thanks honey,” Madilyn says, and then nods to me. “Mr. Mack, I’m sorry I can’t stay longer but it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I tell her, getting out of my seat to escort her back to the door of the conference room. “I’d shake your hand but I can see they’re both full.”