Doctor's Orders: The Complete Series (3 page)

“Please!” I shout.

And he pulls his hand away.

For a moment I grab at him desperately, not capable of words, panting like a beast, but he calmly untangles himself and walks to the other side of the room. He doesn’t even look at me. I’m left sitting, naked, humiliated, frustrated, soaked in my own juices. The sterile paper beneath me is soggy, and has torn a bit with my writhing.

My
writhing
. God, I am completely humiliated.

I stupidly cover myself while I try to catch my breath, to come down in an orderly way. He’s not even looking at me. He’s messing with some contraption on the other side of the room, totally disinterested.

Suddenly I’m filled with rage. True rage. I don’t know when the last time I allowed myself to feel this angry, it’s totally alien to me, and I don’t know how to deal with it at all. I don’t know how to find the words. It’s like a roiling fog of anger in my brain, preventing me from thinking, from acting. I can only seethe.

“Come here, Claire,” he says, not even looking up from the straps he holds in his hands.

“What the hell was that?” I explode.

He turns to look at me, amused.

“That is not how this works,” he says, and calmly turns back to the tangled mess in his hands. “Unless, of course, you wish to use your word, and terminate your treatment. Do you wish to leave here now, forever?”

I stare at him, open mouthed. I am still a mess of conflicting emotions, but one thing rises clearly to the top: I don’t want to leave. Somehow, I don’t want to leave. I can’t bear the thought of walking out, of never knowing what would happen. Of never learning what he sees in me, what he’s going to bring out of me.

I swallow what remains of my pride.

“No.”

“Then come here, and put this on.” He raises what looks like a harness in his hands, attached to various cords. It looks complicated.

I hop down from the table, and walk over to him. I haven’t quite gotten used to being naked like this, and I can feel myself blush again, but I ignore it. He still looks slightly amused.

“Good. The next time you behave like that, Claire, you will be punished.”

“How?” I sneer, shocking myself. I’ve never been the rebellious type, and I have no idea where it comes from now. I don’t even have time to apologize before he’s grabbed me roughly by the wrist and dragged me back to that chair, where he sits down and yanks on my arm, pulling me over his lap.

In a flash I’m splayed across his legs, naked ass in the air, legs kicking, totally off balance. I struggle a little, but he holds me by the neck and legs, and in a second my conscious brain kicks in, and I remember that I want to see this through. I cease struggling.

“Good girl,” he says. He slips his hand between my legs and slides it up my thighs, coming to rest cupping my pussy from behind. His other hand still holds me by the neck. “Count the strokes, Claire, or we will start from the beginning.”

I don’t have time to ask him what he means before he withdraws his hand and spanks me on my left cheek, open palmed. He leaves his hand there, waiting. The feeling is such a shock that I don’t speak.

“I said count the strokes, Claire.” His voice has gone hard. I wriggle my bottom, feel my tits press into his leg. My pussy is getting wet again, and all I want is to feel him inside me.

His hand disappears from my ass momentarily, and then he spanks me harder, on the other cheek, a little closer to my cunt.

“One!” I say. It comes out as a squeak.

He hits me again, even harder this time. The slapping sound echoes off the stone walls, and I raise my ass towards him.

“Two!” I cry out.

He picks up the tempo, alternating cheeks, hitting me harder and harder, until the pain starts to heighten my pleasure. I feel dizzy as I cry out the numbers.

“Five! Six! Seven! Eight!”

Suddenly he grabs me by the pussy again, and shifts me with his legs, angling my ass higher in the air so my soft lips are exposed. He pries my legs further apart, and then he spanks my exposed cunt. I scream, and my whole body shudders with a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

“Count!”

“Nine! Ten! Eleven!” I’m screaming now, and bucking into his hand, wanting it to hurt. The sting of each stroke flows through me like a tide, pleasure rising in its wake. On what would have been the twelfth strike he penetrates me with his fingers, swirling them around and stretching me out. I contract and cream on his hand, and for a brief moment I think he’ll fuck me like this, and I’m delirious with joy. But then he’s gone again, and suddenly he stands up, pushing me off of his lap.

I fall to my knees at his feet, too shocked to complain, missing his hand desperately. My brain has ceased to function, see-sawed back and forth like this. For a brief moment I become blank, not thinking, only feeling. You’d think that would be scary, but it isn’t. It’s the closest thing to bliss I’ve ever felt. Before I can speak or even orient myself he drags me up by my wrist, and leads me back to where he’d let the harness fall to the ground.

“Pick it up,” he orders.

I do, fumbling with shaking fingers, my ass and pussy burning red. My shame and pleasure color my cheeks, my throat, by breasts a bright pink. I try to ignore it, and study the object in my hands. It looks like a rock climbing harness. There are two holes for my legs, a strap for my waist, and cords connecting it to pulleys on the ceiling. I look at him.

“Put it on.”

I hesitate for just a moment. I’m not yet used to obeying his orders automatically, though I can already tell that eventually I’ll do it without thinking. There are so many things telling me not to do this, that I should stop it now, while I can, that it’s too weird, too dark. But part of me wonders if it’s also who I am.

But most importantly, I think that maybe, finally, he’ll fuck me.

I slip into the harness, and he tightens it around my thighs and waist. It’s made of soft leather, for which my sore ass is grateful, and the metal rings only bite into my flesh a little. Once I’m hooked in, he pulls on the cords, and I can feel it pulling upwards on my bottom.

“Sit into it.”

Carefully, not quite trusting the suspension mechanism, I do. It works perfectly. He hoists me a little higher, so I’m suspended in the air, sitting naked in my harness. This could be fun. I look at him and grin wickedly, delighted at my new found daring, but he’s already got two leather bracelets in hand, attached to two new cords anchored on the far wall.

“Put these on your wrists.”

I do, gladly. The anticipation is driving me insane. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want the Doctor.

He hoists on these new cords, and the result is that they pull me forward by the arms. He keeps pulling until I can’t keep my feet on the ground, and then I’m just swinging slightly, suspended in the air, my legs kicking a little instinctively. My humiliation rushes back – there’s no way this is graceful, or sexy.

“Stop kicking,” he says, and walks around behind me. I feel another rush of arousal as he fastens more bracelets and cords to my ankles. If I thought I was exposed and vulnerable before, I didn’t know anything. He pulls on this latest set of cords, which must be attached to the opposite corners of the room, because they lift and spread my legs. I’m suspended in mid-air, helpless and spread eagled, my breasts swaying below me. The rush is incredible. I can almost feel his hands on me, can feel his cock pushing into my tight cunt, filling me while I swing helplessly. The anticipation is making me dizzy, and I don’t think I can bear another second when he walks around in front of me.

I strain to look up at him, and I see him flash a grin as he palms my breasts, giving each a squeeze before tweaking my nipples playfully.

I’m excited, wondering what he’ll do next, but my excitement fades into apprehension as he turns and walks away, not even looking at me. He walks all the way to his desk, and settles himself in his chair, leaning back into it. When he’s comfortable, he looks up at me, his blue eyes glittering again.

He’s seated right at my height, so I have nowhere to look but into his face. I can’t even comfortably turn my head.

He’s so far away, and all I want is for him to be inside me. I silently plead with him, remembering that I’m not to speak unless spoken to. He only smiles.

“Do you know what has to happen before you can even think about surrendering to me? Before you can be truly open?” he asks.

I shake my head, biting my lower lip. This is almost unbearable.

“You have to trust me,” he says.

“I do!” I speak out of turn, unable to control myself. Immediately I hear how ridiculous this is: I only just met him.

“Do you?” he asks, and then there’s that smile again.

Suddenly I begin to wonder about what he’s got planned. But I nod after only a moment’s hesitation. The momentum makes me swing gently in my harness, and I’m reminded of my utter helplessness. I am completely at his mercy.

“We’ll see,” he says, and reaches out to press a button on his desk. “You are to maintain eye contact with me at all times, Claire. And remember, you always have your safeword.”

And he leans back with a curious expression, tenting his hands together in front of him.

Suddenly I’m incredibly nervous. And angry. And turned on. I don’t think he’s getting up from that desk, he’s just going to leave me hanging, again,
literally
this time, and I think I’ll go out of my mind if I don’t get to come, if I don’t get fucked...

I’m about to speak when I hear the door open behind me. Startled, I jerk my head around, and only set myself in motion again. I can’t see a thing.

“Eye contact at all times, Claire,” warns the Doctor. I whip my head back around, neck taut with apprehension. I hear the door close again, and then footsteps behind me. I have no idea who’s there. Whoever it is has a full view of my exposed pussy.

The Doctor inclines his head.

“Trust,” he reminds me.

Suddenly there’s a hand on my ass. A large hand, rough, male, the thumb rubbing the skin near my pussy. It squeezes me, getting a feel for me, toying with me lazily. There is no sound.

I look rigidly ahead, completely at war with myself. This is so beyond the pale of anything I’ve ever conceived, and yet I’m on the verge of orgasm, of release, just from this touch. And I can’t tear my eyes away from the Doctor, with his glittering eyes and his knowing smile.

The thumb on my ass presses into my flesh, lifting my cheek, gaining access to my pussy for another hand. He smooths the flesh of my cheeks with one hand, runs a finger the length of my slit with the other, like he’s appreciating what’s on offer.

Without warning he pushes a finger, maybe two, deep into me, and presses up, down, side to side, as if taking the measure of my passage, of my tightness. I open my eyes wide in shock, but manage to keep my mouth shut. The Doctor remains unmoved.

There’s a male grunt, and then the hands disappear, leaving me swaying slightly in the air. The Doctor nods at the man that I cannot see, and then returns his gaze to mine. Suddenly I hear the slither of the cords and pulleys, and I realize my legs are being spread further, pulled up and apart even more than they were. Instinctually I try to look behind me, and when that fails again I look at the Doctor.

“Trust,” he says quietly.

I’m bowed in the air now, my legs as far apart as they’ll go, still with some room to swing. I’m grateful for my natural flexibility, and then, for a brief moment, I wonder why this could possibly be necessary.

I don’t have time to think it through before the fingers return, probing my passage. Whoever is behind me has large, meaty fingers, and he works methodically, swirling them around inside me, in and out, stretching me. I’m helpless as my body responds to his touch, leaking all over his hands. My clit is one hot, pulsating nub, my nipples ache, my ass is clenching. I don’t know if I’m allowed to cry out, to speak. I press my lips together, and tears come to my eyes as I watch the Doctor’s implacable face.

A third finger is pushed inside me, and another mystery hand reaches around my leg to my clit and presses on it in tight, hot little circles. I can’t hold back anymore. I begin to shake, my thighs quivering in their restraints, my breasts jiggling beneath me, as my pussy clamps down on the hand inside me, hot, short little contractions that offer no release at all; as soon as they’re over I need more, want more. This has never happened before. It’s agony.

I open my hooded eyes wide and look for pity from the Doctor. Please, I silently beg him. I want you to fuck me.

Instead a large hand slaps my ass, and spreads my pussy lips wide, and I feel something poking at my entrance. Something huge. And I realize why my legs have been tied so far apart. I open my mouth and eyes in surprise and fear as I look at the Doctor, but he only mouths one word: trust.

I bite my lip and nod.

Then there are hands on my hips and I’m pulled backwards while a giant cock surges into me, all the way in one stroke, filling me and stretching me more than I thought possible. I cry out; I don’t know if it’s words, or just a squeal. I squeal. I’m pushed forward in the swing, unable to move, and then pulled back again, penetrated to the hilt by a huge, hard dick, over and over, over and over. I can hear the slapping of balls against my pussy, can feel it shudder in my clit, most of all can feel myself full of someone’s cock. The Doctor doesn’t move, only watches me get fucked like an animal, like a helpless toy. The sight of him, the feeling of being swung to and fro to some unknown’s man pleasure, drives me over the edge in record time, and I’m coming against that hot dick, milking it again and again, crying out in wordless sounds. I milk that mystery cock harder than I thought possible, but still it doesn’t stop.

“Trust,” the Doctor says.

I nod back at him, and realize I have tears running down my cheeks.

The Doctor makes a motion with his hand, and the pounding I’m taking actually intensifies. My breasts jerk about as though I’m jumping on a trampoline with every thrust, and the sudden image of what I must look like, tied and spread, naked and swinging, instantly has me back on the edge. The man behind me pistons further and further into me, slamming me back into him, harder and deeper, and suddenly he’s hitting the very top of me and a wild, vibrato noise builds deep in my chest, crawling up through my throat, and when it comes out of my mouth my mind disappears in a flash of white. When the pieces come back together, there’s a sense of a hungry openness, of a cock sucked so far inside me it must hurt him, and then wave after wave of warm, wet bliss issuing from the chaos between my legs, my whole being centered there, happy and filled for the first time in memory.