by S. E. Lund
I stood, my cock thick and heavy. She lathered up her hands and of course, the anticipation of her finally touching me made me hard as rock, my cock jutting straight up, my breath shallow, heart racing.
She ran her hands over my abdomen and around my groin, until finally, when I was almost ready to order her to stroke me, she took my cock in both her hands and pulled from the base to the tip.
I groaned out loud, the feeling so sweet, I wanted to stand and thrust in her soapy hands until I came.
But I wouldn’t.
She continued to stroke me, one hand under my balls, the other moving along my length, cupping the head of my cock, then running back down to the base.
“Do you want me to keep this up?” she said in a throaty voice that spoke volumes about her own level of desire.
I knew what she meant. Did I want her to make me come?
The greedy part of me did. I was tired, but I also wanted to orgasm and ejaculate. It would put me right to sleep.
“Maybe for a minute or two,” I said, not wanting to deny her an orgasm as well. “Then I want to eat you until you come on my tongue.”
A flush rose on her cheeks, and she smiled to herself while she continued to stroke me.
“What do you think of that, Ms. Bennet?”
“I think that sounds like a plan.”
She continued to stroke me with her soapy hands, gently squeezing and cupping my balls, and the pleasure was intense. I could come really quickly if I let myself.
Of course, I wouldn’t let myself.
Finally, I exhaled loudly. “Rinse me now.”
Her hands left my hard dick and aching balls for the pitcher, which she filled with fresh warm water from the tap. Then, she rinsed me off, pouring pitcher after pitcher over me until all the soap was gone.
“Come,” she said and held out a towel. “Let me dry you off.”
I stepped out of the tub and she proceeded to towel me from head to foot. I enjoyed watching her take care of me, the smile on her lips, the way her eyes lingered on my cock as she knelt down to finish drying my feet. When she was done, as I stood there before her, wondering what she’d do, my erection throbbing to the beat of my heart,
Part of me wanted to order her to suck me, but another part held back, waiting. She did nothing. Instead, she remained kneeling at my feet, her eyes on mine, waiting.
The perfect submissive.
I knew she wanted to fuck, but I wanted to feel her lips on me.
“Lick me,” I said, my voice low.
She inhaled and laid her hands on my thighs, then leaned forward. As I watched, her tongue slipped out between her perfect pink lips and lapped at the head of my cock. I gasped at the delicious sensation while her tongue slid along the rim and then sampled the slit, where a drop of fluid glistened.
“All over,” I added and groaned when she lapped the entire length of my cock from base to tip.
She ran her wet lips up and down my length, stopping to lick the head before moving down to the base of my cock once more. Soon, my cock was wet with her saliva, and was rock hard. I ached to shove the head past her lips and deeper, but wanted to take it slow.
I enjoyed delayed gratification.
“Take the head in your mouth and suck,” I ordered and she complied immediately, her wet velvety lips and tongue surrounding the head. She sucked, careful to protect me from her teeth, pulling on and off the head slowly and deliberately the way she knew I liked.
I loved watching her mouth stretch to accommodate my cock’s girth, and close around the tip as she pulled off.
“Deeper,” I said, and was rewarded with her taking more of my length into her mouth until I felt the back of her throat. She pulled off, making sure to suck when she did, and I moaned, a jolt of pleasure from the head of my cock to deep in my groin.
“Stroke me while you suck the head,” I said. She did, starting a slow, teasing rhythm that I knew would soon build me to an orgasm if I didn’t stop her.
Soon, I did stop her, even though it was so sweet. I was intoxicated by her mouth, by the sight of her on her knees at my feet, how her mouth stretched around my considerable girth, how her eyes were filled with desire.
I knew she’d finish me without a thought, swallowing my come, but instead, I pulled out of her willing mouth and lifted her up, pulling her over to the bed so that she bent over the end and then I fucked her hard and fast until I reached a point where I knew I’d come with a few more strokes, a deeper thrust or three.
“I’m going to come,” I managed to hiss as the pleasure started in my balls and washed over me, white hot and blinding. She kept thrusting back, and while I felt guilty for coming before pleasing Kate, by then I was too far gone and I went over.
”Oh, fuck,” I cried out as my orgasm began and the first spasm struck. I gritted my teeth and thrust slowly as I ejaculated, my hands gripping her hips, my eyes closed tightly.
God, I loved her…
Later, as we lay in bed in the darkness, a satisfied weariness enveloping me, she snuggled up to me, her head on my chest, my arm around her shoulder.
“You didn’t make me come once, Master D,” she said, and I could hear the playfulness in her voice.
“I know,” I said and stroked hair off her forehead. “I feel incredibly guilty.”
“Don’t,” she said. “You know I like it.”
“Aren’t you aroused? Don’t you need to come?”
She shook her head. “I’m slightly swollen and achy, but it feels good. I like it when you occasionally use me.”
“Shall I order you to finish yourself?” I said, arching my brow.
“No,” she said and ran a finger down my chest. “Like your dragon, it will go away in a while. Besides, I’ll look forward to tomorrow when you feel up to more.”
“You know damn well I’ll feel up to more tomorrow,” I said and tried to hide my yawn. “If I weren’t so tired, I’d want to eat you. In fact, I planned on eating you and making you come once with my mouth and then once with my cock, but you seduced me into something different.”
“I seduced you?” she said, narrowing her eyes, fighting to hold back a smile. “Other way around, Sir.”
I put my finger against her lips, for I didn’t want the ‘Sir’ to become too playful and joking or else she wouldn’t mean it.
“Don’t,” I said softly. “Save it for when we’re really in scene. Otherwise, it’ll become nothing more than a joke or a tease.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t mean…”
I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. D/s is fun, enjoyable, but you have to feel it or it’s just an act. It’s fun to me, but it’s not just an act. I don’t pretend to be dominant.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think I know what you mean. I want it to be real. To feel real. Not a game.”
“Exactly. People often pretend it’s a game because they haven’t completely accepted that they like submission. They feel embarrassed so they pretend it’s just a game, but it isn’t. It is real. It has meaning. We don’t have to always be in scene when we have sex, Kate. In fact, I want us to feel free to do vanilla as well as kink anytime either of us feels like it, but kink is special. I want it to stay that way.”
“Me, too.”
She smiled up at me and I bent down and kissed her tenderly.
“And now, Ms. Bennet, I must close my eyes or I’ll pass out while we’re talking.”
“Good night, Dr. Delish.”
I reached up and switched off the bedside lamp. Then, Kate rolled over and I turned over with her, spooning my body against hers as I did each night when we went to bed, one arm around her waist, slipping my hand under her ample breast. I kissed her shoulder and closed my eyes, falling asleep in moments.
The next morning, I woke before my alarm with a raging hard-on. I turned to Kate, running a hand up her naked hip to her waist and back, before cupping a buttock.
“I want you in
the shower this morning,” I said, my voice husky with desire. She rolled over and faced me, still sleepy.
“Your wish is my command,” she murmured, her eyes still closed, a smile on her lips.
Then I made true on my promise to eat her until she came. We had a shower, washing each other tenderly before I knelt while she leaned against the shower wall, her arms spread wide for grip, her thigh thrown over my shoulder. After her first orgasm, I made her come once more with my cock, fucking her hard from behind while we both stood in the shower, one hand gripping her hip, the other stroking her clit, the warm water flowing over my back.
When we were both finished, we stood together, leaning against the wall of the shower stall, our hands entwined, my semi-hard dick still filling her.
“There,” I said and bit her shoulder tenderly. “We’re even-Steven.”
“You are so egalitarian,” she said with a giggle.
“Here at Morgan Enterprises, we aim to please,” I said, knowing she’d appreciate the cultural reference.
After I dressed, she followed me to the door, her robe tied around her waist, her hair still wet from the shower.
“Will you be late?” she asked when I bent down to kiss her goodbye.
“I’ll be off early tonight,” I said and stroked her cheek. “I’ll probably want another shower, and you might as well join me. Then, after I eat you, we can eat supper. How does that sound?”
She smiled, and tilted her head to the side. “How will I get through the day with that thought in my mind?’
“You know what Mailer wrote. Artists work with the third leg,” I said and smiled, remembering the Norman Mailer quote suggesting that a writer’s libido was tied up in the creative project. “Yours will be nice and perky all day thinking about it.”
“I don’t have a third leg,” Kate said and grinned.
“It’s a very tiny leg,” I said and touched her bottom lip. “But it has twice as many nerve endings as mine. I can’t even imagine it.”
I leaned down and kissed her once more and then left, catching sight of her smile as the door closed behind me.
I arrived at work while the sun was still rising, the orange sky brightening over the trees in the distance. I enjoyed a coffee while standing at my office’s window, watching the courtyard below. People walked back and forth from one wing of the hospital to another on their way to start their own workday. I’d miss this place but was eager to get back to Manhattan and my practice there. I had already contacted the New York University Hospital about a Fellowship in Pediatric Neurosurgery, specializing in robotics, and hoped to start it when we returned. All my work with Michael in Nairobi would help me towards accreditation so my time in Africa would be more than just to help out an old friend.
I had an early surgery so once I was done with my coffee, I checked over my patient files and went down and scrubbed in. I had expected to do my surgery with my team, but when I arrived at the anteroom to scrub in, Sam was waiting, her arms already up to the elbow in yellow disinfecting soap, a scrub brush working away on her nails.
“I didn’t know you were scrubbing in with me today,” I said, rather sourly.
She turned to me and her eyes widened. “Michael said he’d talk to you about it. I want to get in as much experience with robotics as I can before you go. This is my last chance. I like robotics, especially deep brain stimulation,” she said defensively. “Having watched you with a few patients, I feel like it might be for me. Such great results for patients who have been suffering so much. Maybe someday we’ll attend the same conferences.”
“Maybe,” I said, trying to appear neutral. I knew that Sam was interested in pediatric neurosurgery because of her mentoring by Michael. I knew she came to Nairobi so she could take my robotic surgery class. I hoped to keep a wide berth from her if possible.
“Yes, you know I loved your class.”
I had said nothing. I had never encouraged Sam to talk much about her plans. Michael had said she was there to work with him, not me, but clearly Sam had other ideas. I went to the sinks and turned on the water lever with my foot, selecting a bar of soap and scrub brush from the tray. As I stood at the sinks, lathering up, I thought about the first time we worked together when I returned to Nairobi.
Michael told me he was why she came to Nairobi, but she told me differently. When she heard I was coming for a semester, she thought it would be a great opportunity to get some training. I had thought she was more interested in pediatric neurosurgery and my patients were adult so I had been doubtful that she came to get experience in robotics. Now, I realized that she came back because of me. She thought I’d just broken up with a girlfriend and was available. She had plans for me.
Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for me, Kate had other plans.
I sighed, resigned to spending my last surgical day with Sam. We finished scrubbing in and then gowned up, entering the OR and preparing for the procedure. I turned off my irritated ex-lover persona and turned on my objective surgery professor persona so I could make the most of the teaching opportunity, and talked Sam through the surgery.
I enjoyed teaching almost as much as surgery itself. I liked to watch a student go from eager but inexperienced to confident and master of a technique.
Sam had confidence galore and I knew she’d do well as a surgeon, whatever specialization she chose. I wasn’t so sure about her ability to maneuver the subtle art of romance. She tended to be very dominant when it came to flirting and seduction.
That was my role and that was precisely why the two of us would never work as a couple. Sam didn’t want to accept that. For her, we were equals in everything, and belonged together. What she didn’t realize was that the two of us would be like two warring nations, each of us trying to gain the upper hand sexually. It would never work.
She couldn’t accept that.
She was too egotistical to believe that Kate had won.
After surgery was finished, we walked down the hallway to the family waiting area to speak with the patient’s wife and eldest daughter. I told them the procedure went well and that he would have to come back in a month to have his pacemaker calibrated. Another neurosurgeon would be in charge of that.
“You won’t be here?” the wife asked, a look of alarm on her face. “We were told you were the expert.”
“My colleague from South Africa will be replacing me. He’s got years of experience and is one of the best.”
Sam and I left the family and went to the staff room for a break between surgeries.
“We work really well together,” Sam said as she leaned against the counter in the small kitchenette off the seating area. “I’ll be sad to see you go but we may meet up again during conferences in the US,” she said and winked at me.
I forced a smile and drank down a glass of water from the cooler. “I enjoyed my time here, but Kate and I have plans and our life is back in Manhattan. And the US is a big country.”
“What will Kate do when you’re working twelve hours a day six days a week?”
I glanced at her, angered at the personal question. “She has her own life. She’s an artist and will be finishing her Masters.”
“You know, surgeons are more likely to get divorced when they marry outside of the medical profession. It’s hard on spouses who aren’t in medicine to cope with the long hours and professional dedication of people like us, Drake.”
I shook my head. “I married in the medical profession the first time and got divorced. I figure my odds are pretty good because I’m older now and know what I want.”
“Does Kate know what she wants? She’s young.”
“She’s not much younger than you,” I said, annoyed that she was suggesting that Kate wasn’t ready for marriage.
“But I know what I want to do with my life,” she said haughtily. “I know I want to be a neurosurgeon like Michael and maybe specialize in pediatrics. From what I understand, Kate isn’t sure what she wants. She was in journalism writing about p
olitics and then she switched to culture, plus she does art? Sounds like she isn’t so sure of herself.”
“Sam, it’s really none of your business.” I stood with my hands on my hips facing her, my jaw clenched.
“I know, I know,” Sam said and held her hands up as if in surrender. “I care about you, Drake. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I’m a big boy,” I said. “I don’t need or want your help, your advice or your involvement.” Then I brushed past her and left her alone in the break room, making my way down the hallway to my office where I shut the door and sat behind my desk. Damn that woman…
She could get under my skin so easily.
I had to admit that Kate was young. Twelve years younger than me, she was in a period of transition, having finally faced up to her true passion for art instead of politics. She was also new to BDSM and the whole D/s lifestyle. She liked submission during sex, but would it be merely a passing interest? Many people tried out kink, enjoyed it, but then went back to a plain vanilla lifestyle. Only a very few people were in it for life.
I thought I was one of those life-timers, but who could say? All I knew was that submission held no interest for me in the least. Vanilla sex was good, but not good enough. Not all the time. I enjoyed dominance. It fulfilled me sexually.
I had no idea if Kate would be in it for life and only time would tell.
She loved me—that much I knew. She wanted me. She’d proven that several times when other men had hit on her – Dave, Kurt, Sefton. She picked me.
When I saw her in Ethan’s apartment with her knees bloodied, when I learned who she was, I wanted her.
I’d wanted her every moment of every day since.
Sam was disappointed that I didn’t immediately fall back into her bed when I returned to Nairobi, and she wasn’t going to give up easily. She and Claire had obviously planned for the two of us to get together again, and when I showed up with Kate, they didn’t give up on that plan.
Frankly, it shocked me that Claire had been so manipulative. I had only ever known her as a friendly and motherly woman. I had never realized how deeply she was invested in my life, that she would be willing to try to get between Kate and me in order to break up our relationship–all in the hopes that I’d turn to Sam instead.