“Clothespins,” his voice said. “And we aren’t done yet,” he added.
I took a sharp, inward breath. I knew what he was going to do. We’d talked about this one day, talked about fantasies, both his and mine. My fantasies he already knew. Right from the start, I’d felt comfortable disclosing them to him. He was a little more reticent about his fantasies, but I had insisted, and he’d told me about one. It was called a zipper; a row of clothespins, with a string of twine running through them. At some point, the twine would be tugged, and the clothespins ripped from the body. My pussy had clenched as he’d described it. “You should try it on me,” I had said. He’d raised an eyebrow at me. “It sounds yummy,” I’d added with a wink.
At this moment, I was regretting my daring.
His voice was at my ear again. “Just six on each side, baby,” he said, his voice projecting calm reassurance. I nodded. I was nervous, but I was curious about this as well. I’d searched for the images on the Internet after he’d mentioned it, and it looked both scary and arousing. And if I trusted anyone to balance me perfectly at the line between pleasure and pain, it was Patrick.
“Such a good girl,” he said, and I could hear the pleasure in his voice. The plug in my ass continued its vibration, and I fought to keep still. The blindfold over my eyes, the throbbing of my nipples, the vibrations, all had me creaming with arousal, arching towards him for more.
His fingers pinched a tiny bit of skin at the side of my breast and I tensed involuntarily. “Relax,” his voice soothed. “Be good.” I took a deep breath, and exhaled, and the clothespin bit down on my skin at that exact moment. My hands balled into fists as I struggled not to cry out.
I could feel the twine brush my skin, trail a path to my pussy. He’d said six pins, but how far apart was he planning on putting them?
Another little bit of skin was rolled between his fingers; still on my breast, slightly lower than the previous one. Another clothespin pinched down. I yelped in pain, and took several calming breaths.
A dull ache throbbed through me where the clothespins had made contact with my skin. Another fiercer ache throbbed in my pussy.
“What do you think of the clothespins?” His voice was conversational; his fingers grabbed a tiny pucker of skin at my upper stomach, directly below my breast, and the clothespin clamped down. I hissed in response. “I can’t wait for more,” I said, sarcasm tinging my voice.
“Be sweet, Lisa,” his voice chided. A thread of amusement ran through it. “You are hardly in the position to be sarcastic.” Two more pinched bits of skin; two more clothespins; winding a lazy path down my lower stomach.
He’d said six. Six on each side. I’d taken five so far. Five painful, pulsing bits of skin, pinched by cruel springs; held in place by his calm intent.
His fingers traced a lazy circle on my mound. I winced openly. The last clothespin landed right on my mound, and I groaned again. He landed a soft kiss, just next to that clothespin. “You are being very good,” he told me, and his praise flooded me with pleasure, sending the pain to the back of my mind.
A finger dipped in my pussy, and found it dripping. I could have told him that; the pinch of each clothespin had sent a jolt of lust straight to my pussy, and I could feel myself dripping onto the examination table. He chuckled; added another finger, pushing his fingers against the thin wall between my pussy and my anal passage, enhancing the vibrations that strummed through my body. I fought not to writhe; willed myself to stay still.
The second set of clothespins were quickly attached to my body on the other side; I was now a symmetrical, throbbing ache of pleasure and pain. “Patrick,” I groaned. His hands brushed my face, and his fingers were untying the blindfold, taking it off so I could see my body, ornamented by the clothespins, with the string of twine running through them.
“Do you like that?” His voice was husky with desire; his cock, clearly erect underneath his jeans.
“Take off your jeans, push your cock in me,” I begged. “Please, Patrick, I am so wet, I need you so badly.”
Fire blazed in his eyes at my words. “Almost there,” he said. He walked away for a second, and came back, and this time, he held the Hitachi in his hands. “Here,” he handed it to me, and shrugged out of his jeans and his briefs. I stared openly as his cock sprang erect, and I licked my lips; wanting to lick that delicious drop of pre-cum that was forming at the tip.
He shook his head. “Here’s how this is going to work,” he said, his voice even. Oh, my pussy gushed at that tone in his voice, as he laid out a scene. My pleasure was a product of his deliberate intent; something he only would offer me if he chose to do so, and when he spoke to me in that tone, I was helpless to resist him.
“I’m going to thrust in you,” he said, his fingers rolling a condom on his dick as he spoke. His eyes were hot with passion. “You are going to use that vibrator on your clitoris, but you can’t come till I give you permission. Do you understand?”
My voice was soft as I answered. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said quietly.
“And right at the moment you climax, I’m going to pull the clothespins off.” A promise in his voice. Pain and pleasure, at the same time. In perfect balance with each other.
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I repeated again. This time, my voice was an affirmation.
He smiled at the tone in my voice, his smile reaching his eyes. “Ah, Lisa,” he said, appreciation in his tone. “You are so unexpected.”
His dick was at my opening, and he slammed into me, and I arched out and cried out at the contact. “Fuck, yes,” I moaned. “Patrick, please…”
“Please what, sweetness?” His voice was hoarse as he held the cheeks of my ass in his hands, and slammed repeatedly into my body. I felt filled. My body was throbbing with the vibrations of the butt plug and with the feel of him pushing deep into me, with the dull ache of the clothespins, and the vibrations of the Hitachi on my clitoris. A million different sensations ran through my body, causing me to spiral, dramatically fast towards orgasm.
“Hold it back,” he ordered. “Not yet.”
I moaned in frustration, and moved the wand away from my clitoris for a second. Patrick didn’t ease up on the thrusting though; his strokes were steady and sure and deep, and each stroke of his cock sent my pussy clenching in impossible need.
“Hold it back, Lisa,” he snapped. That was a definite order.
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered, as I tried to balance at that edge and not tip over into that chasm of pleasure.
“Put the wand back on your clitoris,” he ordered.
I whimpered, but he was unrelenting. “That’s an order, sweetie,” he said calmly. I obeyed.
I could hear the sound of his cock slap into my pussy and the dull background hum of the buttplug in my ass. My body felt like a vessel for his will; the skin around my breasts throbbing from the clothespins. I danced on the brink of pain and pleasure; my clitoris swollen and slick as I pressed the vibrator into it. Sweat beaded on Patrick’s forehead as he pounded his entire length into my wet, willing pussy. I could smell my arousal in the air. It was all too much.
“Patrick,” I groaned. My voice was ragged and raw. “I can’t hold on for much longer, please, it’s too much, please…” I was begging, and I wasn’t ashamed of it; I needed to arch towards release.
“Come for me, Lisa,” he said, grabbing the two strings of twine between his fingers, and looking into my eyes. I kept my eyes open and didn’t try to hide my need for him as I pressed the vibrator against my clitoris one final time, and I erupted, screaming from both the intense pain that shuddered through me as Patrick ripped off the clothespins in one, smooth move, and from the intense pleasure that followed immediately as my body tipped into orgasm.
It went on for ever, my pussy clenching and spasming; my entire body trembling from the longing that had raced through it. Patrick thrust harder as I came, and then, I could feel his body tighten, as my orgasm tipped him into his own orgasm, and he came in m
e with a shuddering groan.
He slumped, half on me, and half standing, as my pussy clenched around his cock, till he finally pulled out of me with a sigh. He reached for the two clothespins at my nipples, and I braced for the pain as the blood came rushing in; but his mouth was on each nipple, soothing it gently, then he threw the condom in the trash, removed the butt plug, kissed my forehead with infinite tenderness, lifted me into his arms, and carried me to his bed.
Chapter 18
Patrick:
“Want to play a game of pool or something?” I asked her. It was Wednesday evening. We had spent most of the weekend in bed, but this was the first time I’d seen her this week. Her mother was recovering well, Lisa had reported, and was itching to get out of bed and resume normal activity. Lisa had spent Monday and Tuesday evenings with her, trying to force her mother to rest.
“She’s stubborn,” she had commented wryly. I’d laughed at her tone. I had a feeling Lisa was pretty similar to her mother.
We had eaten dinner. After dinner, we had walked through the streets of Toronto, holding hands and savoring the crisp fall air, when we saw a pool hall. “You play?” I asked.
She grinned. “I’m pretty damn good, Dr. Anderson. Can your ego take being beaten by a girl?”
I laughed aloud. This woman was amazing. “Fighting words, Miss Preston. Let’s see what you can do.”
***
She wasn’t lying, she was good. Unfortunately for her, I was better. Legacy of a misspent youth. I beat her quickly the first game, breaking and running the table as she sipped her drink and watched.
“Best of seven, Miss Preston?” I raised a cocky eyebrow after that first game, and she just laughed.
“What are we playing for, Dr. Anderson?”
My voice was rough as I replied. “You. On your knees, hands tied behind your back, taking me down your throat.”
She looked at me, lust shining openly in her eyes. “Ah Patrick,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to win a bet for that to happen, I’ll gladly take your cock in my mouth any time you ask.” Fuck. My cock jumped instantly in response, and my heart warmed. I loved this girl; her open, easy lust, her complete honesty. She didn’t play games, Lisa. She told me what she wanted with directness.
“What do you want if you win, Lisa?” I asked her, pulling my mind back to our conversation.
“Another doctor’s appointment?” she asked.
“Deal.”
***
The second game, I scratched on an easy shot, fatally distracted by her tongue reaching out and catching a stray drop of wine. She smirked at me, and I laughed. She moved forward with her cue, and she capitalized on her opportunity, and ran the table.
“One game each,” she laughed, as I stacked the balls for her to break. She scratched on the break though, and I winked at her.
“I’m going to make you beg,” I told her. “You’ll have to beg for my cock.”
We were in a dark corner of the bar, and she ran one hand over my cock. My erection had subsided slightly, but I became rock hard as I felt her hand rub me over my pants. “I’ll beg anytime,” she whispered, licking her lips. I gulped hard, and willed my hands to stop shaking as I walked to the pool table to take my shot.
We traded shots, back and forth, both of us making silly mistakes as we lusted for each other. We brushed into each other as we walked to and from the pool table; we snuck in kisses in our darkened corner, and we held hands, and we acted like two teenagers in heat.
“You aren’t bad at this,” she said grudgingly, as I made a near-impossible shot in the middle pocket, the merest whisper of a stroke that sent the ball sliding into the pocket. I followed it up by a hard, long shot that resounded with a satisfactory thwack.
“Soft, hard,” I whispered in her ear. “Which way do you want it, sweetness?” I ran my hands over her body, rubbing my palms on her nipples, over her clothes, and watching with satisfaction as they hardened into erect nubs that begged for the touch of my mouth and teeth on them.
She gulped, and I fought not to unbutton her shirt, and take those beautiful nipples between my teeth. Later. It would keep; this fierce, hot lust. For the moment, I was relatively content to enjoy the camaraderie between us as we played, and I savoured our banter and our laughter.
***
My phone rang as she was setting the table up for the next game, and I groaned. It was the hospital. I was on emergency standby. Alcohol was a strict no-no when you were on call, and in accordance I’d been drinking soda all night. But I had hoped that Toronto would have a peaceful night, with no need for any emergency surgery. I wasn’t going to get my wish fulfilled.
I answered, told them I’ll be there in ten minutes, and turned to Lisa. She’d heard my end of the conversation. I was bracing for annoyance, but she had nodded her head as I talked on the phone, and in the meanwhile, she’d cleared our tab. No annoyance to be seen; just understanding. She was perfect.
“I’ll catch the subway home,” she said, as I started to apologise for cutting our evening short.
I kissed her briefly on her lips. “You are pretty fucking awesome, baby,” I told her. “And Lisa? No masturbating when I’m not around.”
“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” she whispered, her voice sweet and compliant.
I was falling deep and hard for this girl.
Chapter 19
Lisa:
Friday afternoon, he had called. “You busy tonight?” he asked. “No,” I replied, and caught my breath as I heard his next words. “Doctor’s appointment tonight,” he said. “Six this evening. Don’t be late.”
***
“You aren’t wearing your cast,” he commented, as I walked in his house.
I nodded. “It doesn’t seem painful,” I said.
A wicked smile spread on his face, and I knew I was going to be in for the ride of my life. “Excellent.”
I refrained from asking him what he had planned. “Technically, we played our pool game to a draw, since you had to leave, so I didn’t really win my doctor’s appointment,” I pointed out.
Patrick laughed at me. “Both our assumptions are flawed,” he said. “You really want to go down on me, and I really want to tie you to that examination table and have my evil way with you.”
I fluttered my eyelashes hopefully. “And can I go down on you?”
“We’ll see.” His voice was non-committal.
***
I went into the examination room and got naked. The table was at the usual waist-height. The mirror was back today; it was on one end of the room. The robe was nowhere in sight, and so I just perched myself on the examination table and waited for Patrick. I didn’t have to wait for long. In just a couple of minutes, he knocked on the door and entered.
He chuckled when he saw that I was naked. “It’s seriously good for my ego that you got naked already,” he smiled.
I smiled back. “I didn’t break a rule, did I?”
He grinned. “Oh, I didn’t say that. I just said it was good for my ego. But first, before we get going, we haven’t done much impact play. How’s your pain tolerance, and can you handle a flogger?”
I wanted to call out for an oxygen tank; I needed air. The idea of Patrick flogging me, with that quiet, intent, attentive look in his eyes was enough to heat up the room by ten degrees, easy.
“There’s probably a more submissive answer,” I replied, trying to keep from smiling from ear to ear, trying to preserve some semblance of protocol and decorum, “but the only one that comes to mind right now is Fuck Yeah.”
He laughed aloud. “The things you say,” he said, smiling. “Okay. You know your safeword?”
I nodded. “If I gag you, I’ll give you the red ball again. Drop it and we stop and talk.”
I nodded again. I was naked, I was horny, and my ridiculously amazing boyfriend was going to flog me. It felt like Christmas morning.
“Okay, Miss Preston,” his voice was crisp. He transitioned effortlessly into the scene. “I’
m afraid my nurse couldn’t make it today, so you are going to have to administer the enema yourself.” He tried to hold the grin back, he wasn’t very successful. I could see his lips twitch, and the merriment dance in his eyes.
There was only shock in mine. “What?” I yelped. I had to give myself an enema? While he undoubtedly watched? My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
He raised an eyebrow, and his voice got quiet and dominant. “Is there a problem, Miss Preston?” he said, and I instantly lowered my eyes and shook my head.
“No, Dr. Anderson.” Damn you, Patrick, I cursed under my breath. But I couldn’t deny that there was more than a twinge of arousal in me at the thought of doing something so personal in front of him, as he watched.
He handed me a tube of lube. “Lube yourself up first,” he ordered, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Lisa, turn towards me while you are doing that.” He sat on the stool, in front of me, ready for the show. Damn him. I was mortified.
The purpose of the mirror was suddenly clear. He could see my fingers reach into my ass and swirl the lube in, and at the same time, he could watch my face, beet-red with embarrassment as I fingered my most intimate of holes in front of him.
Fine. I could do this. I straightened my back and met his eyes steadily. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said dryly.
His lips twitched. “You should remember that there’s a flogging in store for you this evening, Miss Preston, before you overdo the sass,” he said levelly. His eyes were still amused.
I bit my lips to keep back the grin. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, and this time, my voice sounded much more dutiful.
***
“Part your legs,” he instructed, as my hand reached behind me to spread some lube in my asshole. “I want to be able to see.” Cheeks flaming, I spread my legs wide for him, as wide as I was able. As much as I wanted to sass Patrick, there was also a real, essential bit of me that wanted to please him. And so I obeyed his instructions willingly and with full intent, and I warmed before the obvious pleasure in his eyes at my compliance.
Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series Page 21