Recovery (Doctor Dom Volume 5) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) (6 page)

I positioned the dildo on the floor, and lowered my pussy down on it, hissing at the overwhelming sensation. I’d just come. Everything was tingling and I wanted to recover slowly, not fuck myself on a large dildo while Patrick watched.

But I wasn’t in charge, Patrick was. And I ceded control to him, knowing he knew my limits well, and wouldn’t push me past them.

I spread my knees as I’d been instructed, and looked straight at the camera. “I’m sorry I came…” I whispered.

“That’s the best you can do?” His tone was mocking. He was still sitting behind me, and he put a hand on my shoulder, and his fingers rubbed my neck. Soothing. The touch was silent reminder that this was just a game we played.

“I’m so sorry,” I begged, this time, sounding significantly more penitent. “Please forgive me.”

He shook his head. “Try harder.”

I made amused eye contact with him, then I fully surrendered, submerging fully into my submissive self. “Patrick,” I leaned forward, so that my forehead touched the floor. I was careful not to raise my hips though; the dildo stayed buried in my pussy.

“
I beg forgiveness,” I said. I wanted to say more, but the position I had assume, my forehead on the floor, had sent my emotions into a spin. My voice felt thick with tears. I shouldn’t have come.

“Hey, hey,” Patrick’s hand traced a soothing line from my neck to my back. “Just a game, kitten. Get up.”

I blinked away the tears as I got back on my knees, and he eyed me with concern. “Do you need a break?” he asked me, and I shook my head.

“I blame the wine,” I muttered, embarrassed by my tears, and he smiled.

“Come here, lean back against me,” he instructed. He sat on the couch, and I stayed on my knees, but leaned my back against his legs. His fingers moved in gentle circles over my nipples, and they automatically hardened in response.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he said to me, leaning forward to kiss my neck. “Gently.”

I reached across and lay my hand on his cheek, and his lips brushed my fingers. It felt soft and intimate. Like the calm aftermath of a storm.

My fingers found my folds, and I stroked my clitoris gently with just the tips of my fingers. My touch was feather-light. I wasn’t trying to make myself come. I was just pleasuring myself, exactly as Patrick had asked.

His mouth kissed a slow, deliberate path from my neck down to my shoulders, and up again. His stubble scratched slightly against my skin, and I whimpered in helpless desire. The pressure of my fingers increased almost imperceptibly, but Patrick noticed and shook his head.

“Slowly kitten,” he said. His fingers found the clasp of my bra, and undid them, then the bra was carelessly tossed across the room, and his hands cupped my breasts.

I sighed in pleasure, and rested my head on Patrick’s knees. “This feels nice,” I said, and he smiled at me. “Good,” he said.

He continued his gentle assault
until I was writhing against him as helpless sparks of pleasure lit up my body. It was getting harder not to rock back and forth on the dildo. I bit my lip as I clenched my fingers to keep their touch on my clitoris feather-light.

“Ah,” he said, looking pleased. “Does someone want to come again?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

He laughed at me. “In that case, baby, stand up and sit on top of me.”

Oh god yes. I jumped up with alacrity, and he chuckled, a sound that trailed into a groan as my fingers held the crotch of my panties aside and I sank down on to his rock hard dick, still facing the camera. I ground against him, moving until his dick hit my g-spot, and then I pulled up, and lowered myself down again.

On the screen, I could see his hands splayed out on my hips, urging me to bounce on his cock. I was happy to take up his invitation. My fingers moved, unbidden to my clitoris, and Patrick laughed, a low, sexy sound. “Does my kitten need to come?” he asked, one eyebrow rising. I watched him on the TV screen, fascinated that the insanely good looking guy was touching me, fucking me.

“I do,” I breathed. “I need to come.”

“Then you should, sweet Lisa,” he said with a smile. He laughed. “Especially since I’m probably not going to last much more than a minute or so…”

I made eye contact with the Patrick on the TV screen, and I licked my lips. My hips sped up, my fingers circled my clitoris with increasing pressure. Tight spirals of need started winding their way through me, starting at my pussy and cascading through my entire body. I felt only lust as I watched my breasts jiggle on the screen.

His fingers clenched my hips hard, and he groaned as I ground down, and then I felt his come in me, and his orgasm tipped me into my own, and I screamed and flailed on him as I rode on a wave of pure desire until I found my release.

***

After a quick shower and
a cursory brushing of my teeth, I lay curled up in Patrick’s bed, with him spooning me.

“So,” I started hesitantly. “What’s the deal here? Are you dominating me then? Am I supposed to pretend you aren’t?”

He laughed a mostly relaxed sound, and my heart eased at the lack of tension in his voice. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Therapy is helping, but I’ve grown used to keeping the insights from my session private.” He didn’t need to say anything more. During his eight-year marriage, his ex-wife had lied to him in all kinds of ways, almost making him swear off BDSM forever.

“I was definitely dominating you downstairs,”
he said, his chin resting on my shoulder. “It’s getting easier.”

“But?” I asked.

He kissed my neck. “No buts. Just a plea for patience.” His hands tightened around my waist. “You’ve been unhappy all week.”

I nodded. “I don’t think I can live without the domination,” I said honestly. “I was building walls…” My voice trailed off before I said any more, but the words that I had left unsaid were obvious. I was building walls to protect myself in case we broke up.

“I don’t want to break up,” he said, speaking the words I’d left unsaid. “
Can I ask for patience from you? And to keep the lines of communication open?”

I turned to him. “Baby,” I said seriously. “I don’t deserve you. But yes, of course. You’ve always given me every bit of yourself, completely and openly. It’s not even close to an even trade, but I’ll
be honest with you.” I made a face. “And I’ll work on the patience,” I added, my voice lightly grumbling.

He laughed at my tone, and tweaked my nose. “This was an awesome surprise,” he yawned. “Now.  Go to sleep.”

“Good night, Patrick,” I said softly, burrowing myself into his body. I was asleep in seconds.

***

Patrick:

I loved this woman.

Her unhappiness had been visible the last week. But she hadn’t let herself stew. She dealt with it like a grown-up. With honesty and bravery.

And a video camera.

I chuckled to myself. I couldn’t wait to watch the movie we’d made.

Lisa:

I’d meant for
my little game with the video camera to erase some of the distance between us, and to bolster the trust between us.

But it had done so much more. It had brought us together in a more intimate way.

We still had issues, of course. Because real life is not like the movies, and everything doesn’t get magically better when the hero kisses the heroine at the end of the movie. But from that day onwards, we weren’t a couple in a new relationship. We were a team.

***

Work got underway on the house. There was much muttered grumbling from Patrick as he came home to a massive patio door-sized hole in his kitchen wall one day, barely covered by a plastic sheet, dust everywhere.

“It is November, Lisa,” he chided. “You guys could have turned off the heat before you started.”

I winced. I was going to kill my contractor, Stewart. I had reminded him about the thermostat. Stewart was an excellent contractor technically. No-one was better qualified to do renovations on older houses. But in certain customer service areas, the guy was sorely lacking.

“I’m sorry,” I said mildly. I wasn’t going to tattle on Stewart, but it was hard to be blamed for the sins of others. Particularly when it was my boyfriend giving me the stink eye.

He eyed me levelly, and then grinned. “Well,” he laughed, “this was going to be the best perk of getting you to do the work. I get to spank you when I’m displeased.”

A slow heat started in my belly, and radiated outward. “I’m getting spanked?” I asked, barely believing it was possible.

He nodded. “You are indeed. Push your jeans down and bend over.” He pointed to the kitchen table and left the room.

I obeyed, my hands shaking slightly as I unbuttoned my jeans, pulled down the zipper. He’d mentioned nothing about my underwear, so I left it on. I bent over the dusty table and waited for Patrick.

I would be lying if I pretended I wasn’t anxious. I was incredibly nervous. If something happened to hit a trigger for him, then this would push the recovery even further back. I crossed my fingers and my toes.

“You know,” his voice spoke. “The only thing you should be thinking about is pleasing me. Nothing else.”

“Arrogant much?” I quipped before my brain caught up with my mouth and I bit my lip, wishing I could take back the words.
Don’t mess with the guy who is going to punish you, Lisa,
I said to myself.

Patrick laughed out aloud. “That’s an additional ten
strokes for the sass,” he said. “But let’s try that again, shall we. What is the only thing you should be thinking about, Lisa?”

“Pleasing you, Dr. Anderson,” I said. Serenity
enveloped me, and my voice softened.

His hand stroked my lower back, continued down the crack of my ass. “Twenty strokes,” he said, his palms running on the fleshly portion of my ass cheeks. “Ten with my hand. Ten with the paddle. Count them out.”

He moved the leather paddle towards me, and I winced. Next time, I would keep my tongue under control. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and he slid the paddle between my parted lips. “Keep it there.”

I didn’t point out that I could hardly count if I had a paddle in my mouth. Clearly, Patrick could manage to count to twenty by himself, he just wanted me to slur and moan the words around the paddle as extra humiliation.

“Ready, baby?” he asked me, and I nodded.

“This is very nice,” he said, running a finger at the edge of my panty-line, where fabric met ass.
“Let’s get it off.”

I parted my legs obligingly as he pushed the panties down to my knees. I gulped. The whole thing – being half-clothed, bent over a kitchen table so that Patrick could spank me with a paddle – it was all incredibly arousing. I could smell myself in the air, and I smelled like lust.

Thwack. His hand came down on my ass, painfully hard. “One,” I whimpered through the paddle as my body rocked forward on the table from the force of his spank. The next two blows came quickly after, one on each cheek, hard and painful. I hissed and clenched my fists, and gritted out the count.

“Ah, poor baby,” he said. His hands stroked the heated flesh, soothing it gently. “Too hard?” I shook my head silently. “Good,” he said in response, and quickly hit me four times in a row. My teeth bit down on the paddle as I struggled to process the pain. It had been weeks since I’d been spanked, and my tolerance had clearly decreased.

His palms soothed my aching cheeks again. “Perhaps you will ask your crew to be more careful of my house?” he suggested. I rolled my eyes at that, but my body relaxed as he stroked me gently, pausing so I would recover before laying the final three spanks on my ass.

“Okay?” he asked me, and I nodded again, and the three
strokes came stinging down on my aching butt. I groaned and counted them out.

I closed my eyes as his hands once again stroked my cheeks. “Can you take the paddle now, or do you want to wait?” he asked me. He bent forward to kiss each ass cheek, and I whimpered as I felt his mouth on the hot, throbbing flesh.

“Can I get a drink of water?” I asked him.

“Of course, sweetie,” he said instantly, and walked to the refrigerator, handing me a bottle of water.

I took a swig. My eyes were glistening with tears that I hadn’t realized I shed. His fingers reached out and brushed them away, and I leaned against his shoulder as I drank, taking comfort in the strength of his body. “You feel good,” I whispered. He kissed me softly. “I’m sorry about the mess,” I added.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t really care about the mess right now, baby,” he said. He grinned. “It’s just a thinly-veiled excuse to spank you.”

I smiled. “You need an excuse?” I asked him.

“Do you really want to get more strokes added on?” he asked me, but I could hear the thread of humour in his voice. I leaned against him and took another sip of water, then I put down the bottle, and kissed him on his cheek, nuzzling like a kitten against his neck.

“I’m ready,” I said.

He nodded. “Bend over the table again,” he ordered.

This time, the strokes weren’t only concentrated on my ass. The paddle made stinging contact with the crease where ass met thigh. With my back of my upper thighs. With my already tender ass. He hadn’t asked me to count, and I just clenched my fists and held on.

There was something about the way the paddle fell against my ass. Each stroke resonated in my pussy. My ass was aflame, and I felt corresponding heat in my entire body. Arousal shimmered through me.

The ten strokes had come to an end; I hadn’t noticed. “Fuck me,” I said, when I realized he was done. “Please.”

I didn’t need to ask. Hi
s cock nudged the entrance to my pussy, and I parted my legs and pushed back against him, ignoring the stinging pain in my ass. He growled, and reached to grab my ponytail, and he pulled. I hissed. Oh, this was new, and I liked it.

He chuckled. “Too hard?” he asked, slamming his length into me.

I stuffed my knuckles in my mouth to keep from crying out. I didn’t want him to stop. In about three seconds, the overwhelming sensation would crystallize to pure pleasure.

He spanked my ass, and pounded into me. I gripped the table and hung on as I got utterly, thoroughly fucked. I made mewling sounds of pleasure as his fingers dug into my flesh, and breathed a sigh of thanks as his hand found my clitoris. He touched me just so, and his cock raked every inch of my vagina, and I felt the familiar release of an orgasm start to overtake me. “I’m coming,” I groaned, and he growled in pleasure. My muscles
clenched in spasms of aching desire, and I closed my eyes as I surrendered completely to my orgasm.

My tremors pushed him into his orgasm, and I could feel the spurts of c
ome in my pussy. “Mmm,” I sighed, after a couple of quiet minutes. “I should make a mess more often.”

He pulled out of me and laughed. “That you should,” he said. “Join me in the shower, Lisa?”

A shower sounded like heaven. I nodded and followed him.