Doctors Orders: The Exam (BDSM Fantasies) by Chloe Cox Smashwords Edition Copyright 2011 Chloe Cox

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Doctors Orders: The Exam (BDSM Fantasies) Claire is living a boring, sad little life, full of little humiliations and impossible dreams. That is, until she gets a secretive invitation to see the mysterious Doctor. Claire is skeptical about his treatment at first, but hell, what does she have to lose? At least its exciting. She doesnt expect the Doctor to be so tall, so attractive, so commanding. She doesnt expect to be examined so...thoroughly. She doesnt expect to be disciplined so effectively. And she doesnt expect to be fucked nearly unconscious, coming until she cant see straight. But Claires treatment isnt over yet. The Doctor has big, big plans for her...

When I masturbate now its always the same. I close my eyes, and all I can see are his eyes. His freakishly light, bright blue eyes. What I feel is the touch of many. Many hands, many fingers, many mouths, wildly exploring every crease, every hole, every opening. An unknown dick in my cunt, filling me. The feeling of overwhelming intoxication, impossibly drunk on sex, soaring high above any normal feeling of self, the edges of my identity beginning to blur, to soften, to blissfully merge with the world around me. All under the quiet gaze of those eyes. If youve never felt anything like it, you havent lived. I wasnt living, looking back on it. I never knew what I was until I met him. This is how it all starts. ~~~ The invitation comes in a heavy black envelope, sealed with black wax. The card itself is black, too, with raised black writing. I almost have to touch it to read it, which I guess is the point: forcing a sensory, tactile experience on me. In the end I raise it close to my face, to make sure I have it right. You have been given an Appointment with The Doctor Tomorrow, 6 pm. You will not be given another. Its all very dramatic. No clue where it comes from, or why, or who this Doctor is. On the back is an address on the other side of town, in a quiet, old money neighborhood, full of townhouses and wide, beautiful streets. I guess it shows what kind of state Im in that I actually consider not going. Ive tried to figure out what made me go, what got me out of my funk and moving towards the man that would change my life. I think its because when I get home from the temp agency the next day, just after five, still without a new job, I find my brother in my room, dumping out the milk crates that hold all my art stuff. He needs the crates for his records, he explains, now that he was going to be a DJ. Mom said I could, he says when he sees my face. Then he shoves past me, milk crate in his arms. Right after that Im on my way to the Doctor. I think maybe hell give me some pills or something, anything to make this life seem better. I have no idea what Im in for. It has been so long since Ive had what could even remotely be described as a boyfriend, let alone actual sex, that it never occurs to me that the Doctors practice might be...unusual. Not even the strange invitation suggests anything to me. Thats how naive I am.

Its not that I dont have a sex drive. Believe me, I have a sex drive. But its all frenzied, angry masturbation beneath tangled sheets, after I think everyone else is asleep. Pathetic, right? This is just by way of saying that Im entirely unprepared for whats about to happen. The Doctors office is in one of those fancy townhouses, a mansion, really, with a beautiful limestone facade set back from the street and guarded by a heavy iron fence and a locked gate. The fence itself is lightly covered with ivy, and through the curling tendrils I can see the suggestion of a lighted courtyard, and a path to a garden in back. It looks like a private home, not a Doctors office. I double-check the address on the black card to make sure, holding it close to my face in the fading light, and Im about to press the doorbell when the speaker box crackles to life. Come inside, Claire. I startle, unaware that I was being watched. The voice is relaxed, but commanding, even through the distortions of the speaker, as though its owner has never even considered the possibility that he might be disobeyed. I find myself pushing eagerly at the gate, not even waiting for the tell-tale buzz. Already this is the most exciting thing to ever happen to me, and I want more. I find the front door unlocked, and a sign indicating that I should leave my coat on the side table in the vestibule. Its chilly in the house, with its high ceilings and marble floors, and I feel a little self-conscious as my nipples grow pert beneath my cheap blouse. My bra is unpadded, made of a thin white cotton, and will do nothing to hide my nipples if it stays this cold. I cross my arms in front of my chest and make my way out of the vestibule. There is a light coming from a formal reception room to my right, and all the other doors are closed. Feeling inexplicably embarrassed, I creep into the reception room. I am alone. Theres a warm light, and expensive looking, stylish black furniture that nevertheless looks very uncomfortable. I perch awkwardly on the edge of a black sofa, smoothing my black skirt beneath me, and look around. I guess I expect to see the sorts of things you normally see in a doctors office: a reception desk, a secretary or something, magazines. Theres none of that. Just this muted gray room, with its soft light and a mild chill in the air. My nipples are still quite awake. Theres a door in the far wall, besides the opening onto the main hall that I had come through, and its open just a bit. Not enough to see anything, just enough to tease. It seems rude, somehow, that theres no one here to greet me. To explain all this. Im debating whether to go sneak around, my arms wrapped tightly around me, when I hear it. A soft, light scraping noise. Awkward, arrhythmic. Scrape, scrape, scrape, followed by a shuffle, what might be a groan. It stops for a moment. Im looking around, certain I heard it, but feeling kind of crazy, when it starts up again, slightly louder this time. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Then the same pause, and the same shuffle. I sit motionless in the cold, my arms tensed at my sides, heedless of my nipples poking through the thin fabric of my skirt. Im usually able to identify sounds, but I have no idea what this is. Its come closer. This time when the scraping stops, a tiny little dustpan is pushed into view in the open doorway off the reception area. I giggle a little bit a dustpan? I

was afraid of a dustpan? And then comes the girl. Shes nearly naked, covered only in a thin black bikini, a leather collar around her neck. Her pale skin shines in the soft light. Her hands are bound behind her back with more black leather, and she carefully holds a small dust broom in her mouth. Shes gripping the handle with her teeth, her painted red lips stretched wide. Slowly she shuffles forward on her knees, until shes in front of the dustpan, and then, with aching slowness, she sweeps a bit of dust forward, her breasts swaying heavily near the floor. Scrape, scrape, scrape. I must gasp, or maybe I say something, because she pauses for a moment and looks up. She looks me in the eye, and it almost looks like she smiles with that broom handle stuck in her mouth. Then she leans over, and pushes the dustpan forward with her nose. I cant help but stare at her. I dont know what Im supposed to feel. How are you supposed to react to something like that? What I begin to feel, though, is a warmth down below. And my nipples, hard now, beneath my thin blouse, ache to be touched. I squirm a little in my seat, rubbing my bottom into the rough fabric, scraping my nipples against my bra and blouse, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I dont know how long I watch her, but shes nearly out of sight when I become aware of another presence. A man. In the doorway that was only partially open, now fully open, his hands clasped behind his broad back. He wears a white dress shirt, starched collar, tucked into a trim waist. Over six feet tall, with cold, bright blue eyes, and black, slicked back hair, with just a few streaks of gray. He must have been an athlete with that build, that confidence. Hes the single most intimidating man Ive ever seen, and Im not sure why. I cant read his expression, but hes been watching me, watch her. Watching me get turned on. I open my mouth to try to explain myself how, I dont know and he cuts me off. Do not speak. I shut my mouth automatically. It was his voice over the speaker. Theres something primal about it. He studies me, as though evaluating me. I push my chest out ever so slightly, suck my tummy in a little. I look for a glimmer of a smile on his lips, but find nothing. I am the Doctor. He finally says, like hes giving me a gift. Follow me. And without waiting for a response, he turns and strides down the hall, away from me. I hurry up to follow, hearing his footsteps recede into the darkness. It takes me a moment to collect myself, to smooth down my skirt and my hair, to feel presentable. Then I have to hurry after him, tottering in my new black pumps, heels clicking on the marble floor. I rush out into a great hall, and pause in front of a grand, sweeping staircase. I would see him if hed gone up that staircase. It spirals lazily up at least four stories. Confused and slightly panicked what if Ive lost him already? I look around wildly until I see another door. This leads to another staircase, going down, and I can hear the last of his steps at the bottom. I clatter down the steps in a hurry, anxious to catch up to him. Its

only later that Ill think about how eager I am to please him. When I find him, hes seated behind a desk in a long, low room. Theres medical looking equipment along the sides of the room, a table on wheels with the familiar stirrups I shiver at the sight of those stirrups, and look away quickly, hoping he doesnt notice my reaction various straps and things on the walls. Theres a single chair placed in front of his desk, a standing lamp next to it, beaming down a spotlight. Sit down. He says. I do. I cant figure out what to do with my legs. I try crossing them, but that feels too seductive. Eventually I settle for crossing them at the ankle, in a demure fashion. He watches all this with curiosity. Why are you here, Claire? Confused, I stutter a little. I, um...I received an invitation? Why did you receive an invitation, Claire? I look down at my hands. I dont know. That will be the last time you lie to me, Claire, or you will never see me again. I look up with obvious worry. I cant bear the thought of that. Ridiculous, I know, but already this has been the only thing in my life thats truly mine, the only thing thats the least bit special. No one even knows Im here. Because theres something wrong with me. I whisper. He cocks his head to the side, as though listening for something only he can hear. Finally he puts his hands together, finger tip to finger tip, and looks down at me. That is one way of putting it. You are trapped, Claire. You are unhappy. You are not free. The only path to freedom is through surrender. Did you know that, Claire? I shake my head. I have no idea what hes talking about, except that hes right about one thing: I do feel trapped. Different people find freedom in different ways. They surrender to different things. I suspect that your way, Claire, is to surrender to me. That will be your treatment, if you choose to pursue it. On some level, I know that this is insane. But its a very far away, abstract kind of awareness. The rest of me, the flesh and blood and driving animal part of me, the part that can still feel things, wants to scream its relief: finally, something feels right. Its like hes in my head already. Yes. I say. You will submit to me completely during the course of your treatment, Claire. I will give you a safeword. If you choose to use it, treatment will immediately, and permanently, cease. Do you understand? Yes. You will submit to me completely. This is the first thing hes said with any sense of urgency, and I feel the stirrings of nerves in my belly. Its as though hes warning me. My curiosity is overwhelming, but in these few minutes I realize that Im tired of being scared all the time. Im tired of being boring, of being scared to explore because of what I might find. Hes already given me a taste of what it feels like to be brave. And I want more. Yes. I say. You wish to pursue this treatment?

Yes, sir. He leans back in his chair, his eyes glittering with satisfaction. Your safeword is prison, Claire. Now stand up. It is time for your exam. I can feel my eyes go wide as he gets up from behind his desk and makes his way towards me. Immediately I remember all that medical equipment, the rolling table, the stirrups, but I wont turn my head to look. I dont want to appear afraid. What have I gotten myself into? I rise, slowly, again trying to smooth my appearance as much as possible. I run my hands through my long dark hair, tussling it a little, and wish Id changed before Id come. My thin blouse, tight black skirt, and nameless black heels look cheap, and not in a good way. He comes around to my side, opposite the lamp, and steps very close to me. Suddenly I feel his fingers in my hair, and its all I can do not to sigh. He hasnt even touched me yet. I have no idea what hes going to do. This exam will be very thorough, Claire. I nod, wondering if I should look at him. Take off those clothes. Theres a hitch in my breath, and I hesitate just long enough to irritate him. He reaches out his hand as if to undress me, but I quickly move to obey. Im clumsy with the buttons, not wanting to see if Ive disappointed him already, blundering through my fear. In no time Ive hung my blouse on the chair behind me, and Ive shimmied out of my skirt, my heels tucked under the chair. I try to stand proudly in my white bra and white cotton panties. All of your clothes, Claire. I should have realized. I should have known. He sounds annoyed, and thats almost worse than the idea of being naked - almost. Trembling, I slide one bra strap over my shoulder, then the other. I fumble with the clasp in the back, my fingers numb with embarrassment, and with an impatient gesture he reaches up and snaps it open. My bra falls to the floor, releasing my breasts. Ive always had large, round breasts, ever since middle school. My nipples are already hard, and getting harder, like two mini erections. Im sure he notices. I can feel a deep red flush begin on my cheeks and neck, and begin to work its way down to the top of my breasts. He doesnt say anything. Thats almost worse. Hes the first man to see me like this in a long time, and I want to know if he likes the way I look. I almost ask if everything is ok, like an idiot, when I remember Im not done. I hook my fingers under the thin cotton of my panties, and feel the material stick to my wet pussy as I peel them off. I step out of them and scrunch them up into a little ball, bizarrely embarrassed that he might see how wet I am. No, he says. Show me. It really is like hes in my head. Gingerly I unwrap the panties and turn them inside out, so the damp patch where Ive leaked all over them is clearly visible. He looks at it for a moment, then at my breasts, and my nipples, still rock hard. You find this very arousing, Claire. Yes. I mumble. Theres no point in trying to hide it, no matter how embarrassing it is. Look up. He orders. I do. Close your eyes.

Swallowing, I do this, too. He makes me wait just long enough for me to get nervous, to be on the brink of opening my eyes, when I feel a finger on the tip of my chin. That finger begins to trace the line of my jaw, down, gently, to my neck, to the hollow at the base of my clavicle, where he presses down with the slightest pressure. I cant suppress a shiver. From there, more finger tips, so light, and then two hands cupping my breasts. He lifts them, squeezes them, toys with the nipples. Im trying so very hard not to moan, to keep my breathing regular. I think it amuses him. You will start taking better care of yourself, Claire. I catch my breath involuntarily, indescribably wounded by this. You will buy the expensive lotions and cleansers. You will go to a spa, once a month. But I will give you the name of the right place. His hands drag down the skin of my stomach, my muscles shuddering beneath the skin in their wake. I cant control my breathing anymore. My entire body tingles. What do you do for a living, Claire? His hands are tracing the curves of my hip, my lower stomach, coming so close, so close. Im grateful that he hasnt asked me to open my eyes. I dont know that I could take it. I asked you a question. I dont have a job. Thats not what I asked. My last job was as a receptionist. His hands have traveled around to my lower back, and they reach down to cup my ass. I shiver again, and I try to ignore the pounding in my pussy. Im suddenly aware of the ridiculousness of the situation. What kind of doctor is this? You receive. He says. No, I answered phones. The rational, normal part of me is screaming loud enough to be heard now, though its a struggle over the pulse of my blood, my desire. I dont really have any idea what Ive walked into. You receive, Claire. Your answer was more honest than you intended. And one hand snakes around and grabs hold of my pussy, and pulls me close to him. I gasp, and my eyes fly open before I remember they are supposed to be closed, and I shut them tight with relief, not wanting to have to look at him. Hes just holding me like that, one hand grabbing my ass, the other clutching my pussy, so close I can feel his even breath on my face. I can smell him. Spicy, with a little hint of sweat. I can hear my heart beat, can feel it all the way in my finger tips. It takes all of my self control not to rub myself against him like an animal, breasts pressed up against his shirt, pussy in his hand. Did you always want to be a receptionist, Claire? What? I can barely choke the word out. When you were a little girl, did you dream that youd grow up and answer the phone for other people? Why is he doing this? Why is he asking me these questions? Tears spring to my eyes before I even know why Im sad, and there is a tight little fire building in me that only

wants him inside me, fucking me, however and whatever he wants, and between the two warring desires theres no room for lying, for subterfuge. No. I sob. The truth is I did have dreams. My parents paid lip service to the whole follow your dreams crap, but when it came down to it they favored my brother. And when I told them what I wanted, they refused to pay, said they had to save their money for someone with a useful career. Like my brother, who then decided he wanted to be a DJ. Ive been living with them, paying rent, because I cant afford to live anywhere else. Its so lonely there. They dont really see me. They dont want to. They want me to be someone else. But the Doctor is asking about me. What I really want. Suddenly he releases his grip, and I almost cry out, its actually painful to feel his sudden absence. I open my eyes as he smoothly pulls the wheeled table out into the center of the room, pushing the chair aside, adjusting the light. He pulls a length of sterile paper over the vinyl cushions, and raises the back, so its angled like a recliner. Get on the table, Claire. I look at it dumbly for a moment, eyes wide. He narrows his eyes and I remember our arrangement. Complete submission. I clamber up on top of the table, trying to remain graceful in this graceless position, seated between the stirrups that rise like wings from the sides, my legs dangling over the edge. I cross my ankles again, push out my naked breasts, and wait. He stands in front of my crossed legs, and swings the stirrups around. Give me your leg. Tentatively I raised my left leg, and he grasps my ankle, lifting it. He runs his hand, still damp from where he clutched my pussy, up the length of my calf, to the inside of my knee and back. My eyes flutter, and he places my foot securely in the stirrup. My legs are half spread now, and already its overwhelming. I have never felt so naked, so vulnerable. So exposed. Now the other. I breathe deep and exhale, my chest fluttering, and give him my other ankle. Quickly he has my foot in the stirrup, and now Im spread before him. My face and chest burn with embarrassment. But thats not enough. He angles the light so that it shines fully on my exposed pussy, my naked, naked pussy. Then he pushes the stirrups wider apart, and closer to me, bending my legs towards me. Spreading me even further, my pussy and my ass now totally served up to him. My breathing has gotten quick and shallow, and Im starting to feel hot all over. Not just turned on, though I am more aroused than I can ever remember being. Its more like I cant get enough air, and suddenly the room starts to feel small, oppressive, the light glaring. He angles the light down again, still on my pussy but not in my eyes, and watches me. Just watches. Whats wrong with me? I gasp. And he puts his hand back on my pussy. Instantly I feel calmer, a warming glow spreading out through my limbs. His eyes lock with mine as his fingers start to explore my folds, slipping between them, running his fingertips up and down, up and down. I struggle for breath, but somehow I know its important not to lose focus when hes holding my gaze like this. I know I need to pay

attention for him. What did you want to be, Claire? I dont know. I rasp. Yes you do. It doesnt matter. I dont know if Im lying to him, or to myself, but as soon as I say it I know its not true. His fingers pry apart my lips and toy with the borders of my opening. I can feel my wetness drenching his hand, leaking down my crease, smearing all over my inner thighs. The air is cool where Im wet, but still his fingers dont stop. I think I might go insane. You are closed very tight, Claire. I know. My fluttering eyes pop wide open as he stops for a moment, and I see his cold blue eyes staring into me. That is not how the treatment works, Claire. He says, and thrusts two fingers into me, deep. I gasp at the sudden intrusion. Even though Ive needed him to fuck me, the sensation is so quick, so powerful, and Im not ready for it. I am closed tight, and he is forcing me open. Its so overwhelming that I want to run from it, like the first time I masturbated, frightened by what I felt just before orgasm. But I cant run from him. He puts a hand on my chest, between my breasts, keeping me down, and pushes another finger into me, spreading me out and opening me wide. What are you? He demands. His fingers are fucking me hard, and the tight coil of tension I held within me is unfurling in a flourish of pleasure, of heat and life, thats spreading through out my body. He still looks directly at me. No one has ever seen me like this. Art. I wanted to go to art school. I choke on the feeling building in my core, tears coming to my eyes. I wanted to be an artist. His fingers curl inside of me, pressing on my g-spot, twisting against the sensitive nerves around my entrance. I moan, I just cant hold it in any longer, and with his free hand he grabs me by the chin and forces me to look directly at him, directly into those blue eyes that see everything. All I want is for him to fuck me until I come all over him, again and again. I didnt know I could feel things like this, but in his hands I am just this animal, this driving need to be fucked, to come. Please, I whisper, just as I feel his thumb on the hood of my clit, pressing down. After that I cant talk. I try to shut my eyes, but he squeezes my cheeks, reminding me of my obligation. I must look at him. Let him look at me. His thumb rubs in little circles on the hood of my clit, the pressure and the friction from the flesh sliding over the hard little nub pushing me into tiny little convulsions, jack-knifing against him, while his fingers press inside me. The charge is building inside of me, in a hard little ball around my pussy, in a way that I havent ever felt before. Im almost afraid of what will happen when it explodes, and I think Ill die if it doesnt. I can feel the walls of my passage close down on his hand and then bloom open, trying to suck him in as far as hell go. Im so close, so close, I reach out and grab his arm, my fingers digging into his flesh... 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 doesnt even look at me. Im 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. Hes not even looking at me. Hes messing with some contraption on the other side of the room, totally disinterested. Suddenly Im filled with rage. True rage. I dont know when the last time I allowed myself to feel this angry, its totally alien to me, and I dont know how to deal with it at all. I dont know how to find the words. Its 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 dont want to leave. Somehow, I dont want to leave. I cant bear the thought of walking out, of never knowing what would happen. Of never learning what he sees in me, what hes 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 chords. It looks complicated. Gingerly, I hop down from the table, and walk over to him. I havent 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. Ive never been the rebellious type, and I have no idea where it comes from now. I dont even have time to apologize before hes grabbed me roughly by the wrist and dragged me back to that chair. Quickly he sits down and yanks on my arm, pulling me over his lap. In a flash Im 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 dont 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 dont 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! Im 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 hell fuck me like this, and Im delirious with joy. But then hes 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 is ceasing to function, see-sawed back and forth like this. For a brief moment I become blank, not thinking, only feeling. Youd think that would be scary, but it isnt. Its the closest thing to bliss Ive ever felt. Before I can speak or even orient myself he drags me up by my wrist, and leads me back to where hed 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 chords connecting it to pulleys on the ceiling. I look at him nervously. Put it on. I hesitate for just a moment. Im not yet used to obeying his orders automatically, though I can already tell that eventually Ill 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 its too weird, too dark. But part of me wonders if its also who I am. But most importantly, I think that maybe, finally, hell fuck me if I do what he says. I slip into the harness, and he tightens it around my thighs and waist. Its made of soft leather, for which my sore ass is grateful, and the metal rings only bite into my flesh a little. Once Im hooked in, he pulls on the chords, 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 Im 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 hes already got two leather bracelets in hand, attached to two new chords anchored on the far wall. Put these on your wrists. I do, gladly. The anticipation is driving me insane. Ive never wanted anyone as much as I want the Doctor. He hoists on these new chords, and the result is that they pull me forward by the arms. He keeps pulling until I cant keep my feet on the ground, and then Im just swinging slightly, suspended in the air, my legs kicking a little instinctively. My humiliation rushes back theres 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 chords to my ankles. If I thought I was exposed and vulnerable before, I didnt know anything. He pulls on this latest set of chords, which must be attached to the opposite corners of the room, because they lift and spread my legs. Im 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 dont 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. Im excited, wondering what hell 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 hes comfortable, he looks up at me, his blue eyes glittering again. Hes seated right at my height, so I have nowhere to look but into his face. I cant even comfortably turn my head. Hes so far away, and all I want is for him to be inside me. I silently plead with him, remembering that Im 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 theres that smile again. Suddenly I begin to wonder about what hes got planned. But I nod enthusiastically, after only a moments hesitation. The momentum makes me swing gently in my harness, and Im reminded of my utter helplessness. I am completely at his mercy. Well 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 word. And he leans back with a curious expression, tenting his hands together in front of him. Suddenly Im incredibly nervous. And angry. And turned on. I dont think hes getting up from that desk, hes just going to leave me hanging, again, literally this time, and I think Ill go out of my mind if I dont get to come, if I dont get fucked...

Im 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 cant 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 whos there. Whoever it is has a full view of my exposed pussy. The Doctor inclines his head. Trust. He reminds me. Suddenly theres 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 Ive ever conceived, and yet Im on the verge of orgasm, of release, just from this touch. And I cant 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 smoothes the flesh of my cheeks with one hand, runs a finger the length of my slit with the other. Like hes appreciating whats 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. Theres 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 chords 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 beseechingly at the Doctor. Trust. He says quietly. Im bowed in the air now, my legs as far apart as theyll go, still with some room to swing. Im grateful for my natural flexibility, and then, for a brief moment, I wonder why this could possibly be necessary. I dont 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. Im 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 dont know if Im allowed to cry out, to speak. I press my lips together, and tears come to my eyes as I watch the Doctors 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 cant 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 theyre over I need more, want more. This has never happened before. Its 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 Im 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 dont know if its words, or just a squeal. I squeal. Im 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 someones cock. The Doctor doesnt 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 unknowns man pleasure, drives me over the edge in record time, and Im 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 doesnt 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 Im taking actually intensifies. My breasts jerk about as though Im 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 hes 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, theres 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. When I finally come fully to my senses, the mystery man is gone, and the Doctor is gently stroking my cheek. My whole body is achingly sensitive. I cant talk yet, cant fully feel my face. The Doctor walks around and tenderly wipes me down before he frees one ankle, bending my leg under me and back, getting the circulation going for me before placing my foot on the ground. Gently he does the same with the other leg, and lowers my harness before freeing my hands. I cant stand yet, and I simply collapse into the harness, where he catches me, softly. He fondles my breasts, and I dont care that it hurts, even in this debilitated state. I want his hands on me. But it only lasts a moment before he helps me up and out of my harness, and then hes walking me over to the chair, where my clothes are in disarray. Hes silent as he helps me dress, gentle and considerate, anticipating my movements without asking me to speak. Which is just as well, since I think it will be a while before I can. Finally Im clothed, presentable, no outward sign of what just happened. He touches his fingers to my chin, and my cheek, and he brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear. A productive session, Claire? He asks softly. I nod. Its all I can do. But suddenly the thought is quite clear in my mind: I think I am his. The thought stuns me. And I dont know what to do with it. I realize I dont know anything about him, or his life, or whether this is the treatment that everyone gets. It

nearly pains me as he walks away, back to his desk, and I have to restrain myself from ripping off my clothes again, the fabric coarse and unnatural against my skin now, from throwing my naked body on his. This is insane. Im trapped in my own little insanity now, because of him. I dont know what to do, and Im debating what to say, how to say it, when he walks back to me. He puts a hand under my chin, and lifts my face to his, his blue eyes shining as always. I dont know what I expect to happen, but it isnt this. Our next appointment. He says, and flourishes another black card by my cheek. And then he grins. I think it will surprise you. THE END ...sort of Thanks so much for taking a chance on the Doctor! You can find the rest of Claires adventures with the Doctor at my author page. If youre so inclined, please dont hesitate to leave a review I love getting feedback. But if reviews arent your thing, you can always drop me a line at chloecoxwrites@gmail.com. And if you want to hear about my new releases as they come out, you can sign up here. If you do, Ill send you a coupon for a free download from Smashwords of one of my most popular short stories, Teacher Gets Caught (normally 2.99). Happy reading!