I chuckled. “That’s how it feels on a wet bottom. I’d heard it’s more painful. Now I know it’s true.”
I had to find out how long it would take to dry her out using the warmth and air generated by my palm. Drops bounced off and back again, and the process took a surprisingly but delightfully long time, so I shouldn’t have been disappointed when she began to show signs of discomfort, rolling around and kicking up her legs.
By the time the last patches of damp had evaporated, she was the ripe red of Snow White’s poisoned apple and generating enough heat to power her bedside lamp for an hour or two.
I gave the hot seat a rub. “There,” I said. “A red, sore bottom is very good at aiding recovery for minxes like you. I think we’ll repeat that prescription thrice daily.”
“Thrice,” she croaked. “But it hurts.”
“The best medicines are hard to swallow.” The word “swallow” went straight to my groin, swelling my already-hard cock. “Speaking of which…but no. I can’t be sure the infection has cleared up yet. We’ll have to find another way of administering the dose.”
“The dose?”
“The medicine you need,” I whispered into her ear. “The medicine you’re going to get.”
“Can I ask for a second opinion? Ouch.”
My second opinion lit up her roasted bum all over again, then I reached under the bed for the cuffs.
“It’s an unorthodox treatment,” I told her. “I’m writing up my findings for the medical journals. It’s proving very effective, but it can be a little difficult to administer if the patients are too mobile. So…”
I cuffed a wrist, securing it to the nearest bedpost.
“…I think restraints are in order, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
She looked so good bound and at my mercy, her small hands balled into tentative fists.
“It’s all perfectly safe,” I continued. “Trust me. I’m a doctor. Now, get up on your knees and spread them.”
She slid and slipped about on the sheet, trying to uncurve her spine while the chains held her taut, carefully widening her thighs until that sweet cunt split open, exposing its rich red contents to my view.
“If you make a sound, the treatment will be ineffective and I will have to use something stronger on that sore bottom of yours. So complete silence for this, understand?”
Her voice needed protecting. There was to be none of her moaning and whimpering today. I picked up a vibrator, an old favorite, shaped and sized just right for her. Would she be able to take this in silence? It would be fun to find out.
“It’s called orgasm therapy,” I said, placing the tip of the vibrator at her tight little hole. “Come-valescence.” I almost wanted to apologize for that.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” she said, which was true, but didn’t mean that she would get away with her impertinence. I sent the vibrator on its merry way with a firm shove, causing her to gasp and writhe in her chains.
“I said silence. That’s five strokes of the strap for you later.”
The rest of the vibrator glided in to the hilt. I looked at its wide base, lurking snugly below the stretched flesh of her cunt, for a while, admiring it, before flicking the switch and turning it on.
It hummed quietly but, I think, effectively. Her breathing became labored quite quickly. I put on surgical gloves before moving a hand down underneath the invasive tool and finding her clit. Lovely and swollen it felt, ready to be made even wetter and fatter until my poor girl had no choice but to come, hard but silent, on my fingers. I know how she likes it and I gave her the deluxe version, the rubbing, the stroking, the teasing, the circling, the twist of the vibrator. She had no defense and her first orgasm was swift and luscious, her thighs trembling, reddened bottom jiggling; but would she break her vow of silence?
“You’re coming, aren’t you? That’s good. Very good. Let it out. That’s right.” She panted heavily, but her vocal cords remained unused. She had passed the first test. “But we haven’t finished yet.”
I switched up the setting on the vibrator and attached a clit buzzer for good measure. My latexed fingers were sopping wet already, but I dipped them into the lubricant anyway, letting them draw a shiny trail up the crack of Loveday’s ass until they reached their destination. Had she guessed where her medicine was to be administered? I left her in no doubt, probing slowly, painting her ring with lube until it gleamed, inviting me farther in.
“I think this is where the dosage will be given.”
I parted the rounded cheeks, inspecting her closer, enjoying the residual warmth her well-spanked bottom transferred to my skin through the gloves. She offered me this tiny port of ingress willingly and frequently, but it never lost its powerful appeal. Each time was new, taboo and rude as the first. I listed some words for it in my head…sodomy, buggery, ass-fucking: each perfectly, obscenely decadent. I was harder than ever, wanting to be lodged inside that dark tight place, but knowing that I had all the time in the world.
I put a finger through the barrier, enjoying as ever the little spasm of protest as it tightened around me, then I added another and scissored them, preparing her for something much meatier.
“Yes,” I said, my voice sounding strange to me then, thick and coarse.
I couldn’t wait. I unbuckled my belt, lowered my trousers, released the belligerent scoundrel from its bondage and took it in hand.
Shifting up behind her on the bed, my pelvis nudged the vibrator farther into her, feeling its waves of pleasant warmth through my groin, then I guided the tip of my cock toward its target, held open by those fingers, ready to be breached.
“Take your medicine,” I whispered, and the tip bludgeoned its way in, slicking up with the lubricant as it went. I used to fret about tearing her, but I know her capacity now, and I know how hard and how fast I can take her, so I didn’t spare her. I pushed forward without stopping when she flexed her hips in mild resistance, enjoying her tension and the straining I provoked. Tight, so exquisitely tight, I was clamped and held firm by that well-filled asshole of hers. I could live in there, I thought deliriously. Stay in there forever. Push her around like a wheelbarrow through the streets, ass and cock in permanent connection. God, why do I think these things?
She pushed back, that moment I always relish the most.
“That’s good,” I said, beginning to thrust, bumping the rounded head of the vibrator in her other passage with every forward motion.
Take your medicine, take your medicine.
She struggled against the devilish machinations of the vibrator and the clit buzzer, coming twice before I was ready to commit my final act of domination.
I seized her hips, feeling the imminent rush, that blanking-out of everything except the glory of fucking, of taking, of having, of possessing. Yes, she was mine; yes, she would always be mine; ass, cunt, body, soul: mine.
She fell forward onto the rubber sheet. I didn’t know whether she had maintained that ordered silence, but I didn’t much care either. She was damp with exertion, flushed and breathing hard, but she was well. She was better.
I kissed her spine from neck to coccyx, then, when my legs regained their normal solidity, I went to get a towel from the bathroom.
I patted her down, wiping her clean of sweat, lube and sex before uncuffing her and removing the rubber sheeting.
I brought her poor depleted body into my arms, holding it in a bundle. She trembled like a frightened animal.
“I think you need to go back to bed rest if we’re going to continue this treatment.”
I held her until the shaking subsided, then tucked her back into bed, taking her temperature for real this time.
“It’s well down,” I told her. “For some reason. I would have expected that kind of treatment to elevate it. But what do I know? I’m not a doctor.”
“Hey,” she croaked with mock-indignation. “You aren’t? So…what was that?”
I grinned at her drowsy face.
“That was f
or your own good,” I said. “Now I’m going to call your doctor and ask what he recommends for girls who are well enough to be taken vigorously up the ass, yet protest that they can’t go back to work yet.”
“No, you aren’t, you swine!”
“Yes, I am. Or rather, no, I’m not. Because I know what he’d say. I know what he’d write on his prescription form. Something painful involving your behind and my hand, I suspect. So you’d better get some rest while I work my strength up.”
She pouted a little then yawned.
“Thank you. You may not be a doctor, but I think I’m cured.”
I kissed her forehead. She shut her eyes, halfway to sleep already.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” I said. “Gladder than you know.”
Yes, I hate it when she’s ill. But nursing her back to health is one of my favorite projects.
APPLE BLOSSOMS
Emerald
There they are,” I said to Brooke, who pulled the straw from her mouth and waved at the group coming in the door. Our friend Scott waved back, and we alerted the staff and made our way from the bar to the rectangular table reserved for our group of eight. “Happy birthday, Bethany,” I said to the guest of honor and Scott’s wife, giving her a hug as we reached the table. Brooke echoed the sentiment, and there was a general shuffling of chairs as seven people discerned where to sit and placed their belongings accordingly.
“Courtney called and said she’s on her way,” Scott said to the table at large as Bethany seated herself at one end of it. “And Brooke and Ashley, I’d like you to meet Brad, one of Bethany’s and my friends from our coed softball league. Brad, this is Brooke and Ashley.” There was a hint of severity in the look Scott shot his friend as Brooke and I stepped forward to shake his hand.
Brad appraised us with barely disguised enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you,” he said, giving us both a once-over as he sat down across from the chair Brooke dropped into. As soon as I was seated, he said, “So, how long have you two been together?”
“About five years.”
“Five years. Huh.” Brad sat back in his chair. Scott had obviously told him about us, though I didn’t know how much he’d said. I found out when Brad continued.
“So do you go both ways then, or just girls?” He addressed the question to both of us, and immediately I knew how to account for the look Scott had given him during the introductions.
“Is that a common icebreaker question of yours?” Brooke asked, her smile sedate.
“I just find you both hot,” Brad responded as though that somehow constituted an answer. “I’d do both of you in a heartbeat, so I was just wondering what the chances were of my getting to join you in a threesome tonight.” He winked, and I had little doubt the charm that emanated from his blue eyes had historically served him well in tempering a characteristic audacity.
“How interesting that you seem to assume that our relationship is nonmonogamous, and also that there’s nothing inappropriate about intimating to both of us, in each other’s presence, that you want to fuck her respective partner. Do you usually tell people you want to fuck them when their partner is sitting right there?” Brooke’s tone was mild, and I knew she wasn’t speaking antagonistically but rather capitalizing on an opportunity to enlighten.
Brad looked confused, then considered for a moment. He shrugged. “I guess you’re right. Sorry.”
I smiled, nudging Brooke’s foot affectionately under the table. Brad’s comment wasn’t anything we hadn’t heard the likes of before, but that didn’t inoculate me from finding it annoying. One of the many things Brooke and I had in common was a keen interest in the demolition of sexual and gender stereotypes, superficial assumptions about lesbian relationships being high on the list.
It happened that Brooke and I did not define our partnership as strictly monogamous, though our respective play beyond the relationship had tapered considerably in the last few years. While both our multi-partnered and kinky proclivities had flared with gusto during the first couple years we were together, for the past few such outside interaction had maintained a contented trickle. Our kinky play was now practiced almost solely between the two of us, and as often as not, our sex was vanilla.
But that was all by conscious and considered choice, and the inclination, desire and experience were still there for both of us if the opportunity arose. When Brooke caught my eye, there was a gleam in hers that I recognized. I held back a smile. The proposal I saw in them was something we hadn’t done in a while, probably a couple years if I remembered correctly. But that gleam told me she felt the opportunity had arisen.
With my look back, I answered.
Brooke smiled and turned back to Brad. “As it happens, the two of us have occasionally engaged in such a configuration. But you may not feel comfortable with the kind of things Ashley and I have been known to incorporate into our sex life.”
“Like what?” He was immediately interested again.
“Some things some people might consider a little rough. Bondage. Strap-ons.”
“Well, I guess I’m not surprised you use strap-ons,” he said with a lopsided grin, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Brad, Brad, Brad, I thought. You could really use a little bit of a wake-up call—as well as perhaps a crash course in sensitivity.
Brooke was wearing a barely hidden smirk that anyone who knew her would recognize. Brad, of course, didn’t know her, so his obliviousness continued as she spoke again. I sat with my glass in my hand, content, as was not uncommon, to let her do most of the talking. Despite the kinky and multi-partnered activities in my past, both with Brooke and before I met her, in both social and sexual settings I tended to be somewhat shy. Brooke and I switched, and I was fully capable of dominating her on occasion, but around groups and whenever more than the two of us had been involved, I was usually content to let Brooke lead the way.
“So we’d want anyone who joined us to be interested in those things, too,” Brooke continued.
“Great!” Brad practically drooled into his beer, and I almost laughed out loud.
“You’re comfortable with that kind of thing?”
“Yeah, whatever you want!”
Brooke’s smile held just enough of an edge to let anyone listening know she was serious. “Don’t you think you might want to be careful giving someone you don’t even know that kind of carte blanche in a sexual setting?”
For the first time, Brad blushed, and I wondered what was really going on inside his head. I suspected what Brooke had in mind, and I suspected as well that Brad might not be as thrilled as he anticipated were he to be aware of it.
With that blush, for some reason, I wondered if I was wrong.
Scott turned our way then from the conversation he’d been having with the other half of the table. “And what’s going on down here?” he asked with a swig of his drink, his gaze flitting from Brad to me to Brooke. Instantly he registered Brooke’s expression, and his eyes went back to Brad. I saw the wariness in them as he let the question dangle, this visual assessment seeming to have increased his interest in the answer.
“Just getting to know each other,” I said with a wink.
“I see. Can I get anyone another drink?” Scott stood up and glanced down at us as Brad and Brooke both relayed a request. I thanked him with a shake of my head, and he turned and headed for the bar.
Brooke engaged in answering a question from our friend Peggi, who was sitting on the other side of her, and Brad turned to respond to a comment from Bethany. Our interrupted conversation slid away like a silk scarf slipping from a table, and I sat back and sipped my drink. Scott returned and handed one glass to Brad and set another on the table before sliding a chair down to sit by me.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Fine.” I grinned at him.
“Is Brad acting like an ass?” The question made me laugh out loud, and Scott continued. “I mentioned you guys to him ahead of time specifically to ask him to not act like an idiot,
as I’ve certainly seen him do. Seriously, has he said anything truly offensive? He’s a good guy—just needs a little education about some things. But I’ll certainly get him out of here if it’s a problem.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “No, it’s no big deal. Brooke handled it.”
Scott chuckled. “I don’t doubt it,” he said as he stood up. “All right, I just wanted to say hi.” I waved as he squeezed between the chairs back to his seat at the other end of the table.
When the bill had been paid and the party started to break up, Brooke kissed my cheek as we stood to say our good-byes. Catching Brad staring, she looked directly at him and said, “Would you like to come with us, Brad?”
“Hell, yeah.” Brad almost dropped his glass in his rush to set it down. He stood up, a cocksure demeanor indicating that perhaps he really had assumed the invitation would be forthcoming all along. I shook my head to myself.
“You’re ready to join in however we ask? Because I can assure you, Brad, you won’t just be watching.” Brooke’s smile was calm, her gaze on Brad steady.
“Of course I want to join in.” He looked as if she’d asked if he’d be willing to win the lottery, and I spoke up.
“Even if what we do seems a little…unorthodox?”
He grinned at me, his blue eyes sparkling as he said, “You bet, sweetheart. I’d love the chance to get into whatever you two have going on.”
I saw Brooke’s smile widen. She gave him a nod, and I turned and followed as she led the way to the door.
Brad may not have bargained for the position he found himself in two hours later in our spare bedroom, but I knew Brooke felt the same way I did: the second he wasn’t enjoying it, it wouldn’t be happening.
Once away from the scene at the restaurant, Brad appeared a little nervous, as well as unsure. Despite his enthusiasm, I didn’t doubt that he had no idea what to do after he followed us into the entryway of our home. Of course, even if he had, what I knew Brooke had in mind would likely have looked considerably different from what he expected.
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