Authors: Tara Crescent
Crop. The crop hit my pussy, and I almost jumped off the examination table. His fingers followed instantly, easing the sting, stroking me back to pleasure.
“Again,” I begged.
He laughed at me indulgently, and repeated the flick of the crop. I hissed, lust running through me. In a faint bit of my mind, I felt discomfort from the enema, but in the forefront was Patrick and the pleasure he was giving me. I was rising, rising; I was swiftly approaching orgasm as his fingers pushed into me and stroked me. “Patrick, may I come, please?” I begged.
He kept moving his fingers, but didn’t answer. I clenched my fists, trying hard to hold my pleasure back. “Patrick, please, I’m begging…” I groaned.
His mouth was on the small of my back again; he kissed me softly. “Come for me, Lisa,” he ordered, and the crop flicked on my clitoris. Every muscle in my body clenched tight and I erupted in orgasm, screaming his name. Everything went hazy; the world blacked out, and all I could feel was the tremors running through my body, and the softening clenches of my pussy.
The instant clarity returned to me, I groaned in discomfort. Now that my lust had been satiated, at least for the moment, the bloating and cramping rushed back to the forefront, and I wriggled on the table in pain.
He watched me for a second. Then he laughed indulgently and untied me. “Go,” he said.
***
In the bathroom, once I was done with expelling the enema and cleaning the nozzle, I washed my hands, and quickly trying to finger comb my hair into something remotely alluring. I’d closed the door when I had walked in, and I could hear him outside the door. He knocked.
“Lisa,” he said, threat in his voice. “If you aren’t out quickly, I’m going to make sure I accompany you the next time, to help speed up the process.”
My eyes went wide. He wouldn’t, would he? I decided not to test his resolve; opening the door instantly. “I’m sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I said, as meekly as I could. I was certain I didn’t want him in the bathroom while I expelled the enema. That was simply not erotic for me.
He laughed. “I was just joking,” he said, his lips twitching, “but it certainly got you moving quickly. Come on, back to the table with you.”
I mock-growled at him, and he just laughed harder. “Baby, you are asking to be spanked, you know,” he said easily. I did know. I really liked when he put me across my lap and punished me.
Lisa:
I took up my position again; he didn’t tie me down this time. “Be a good girl,” was all he said to me, his hands on the cheeks of my ass. His fingers were once again at my bud, spreading lube into me. One finger entered me fully, and I groaned in pleasure, pushing back against him.
Perhaps it was my orgasm from earlier, perhaps it was how slowly he was proceeding, but my pussy was damp again, and I wanted this; I wanted to feel his fingers in my ass.
He added a second finger, pushing in, twisting; widening my tightest of passages. I winced in anticipation of the pain, but there wasn’t any; just a feeling of fullness that was strangely erotic. I felt wanton; liberated as I pushed against him again.
He pulled his fingers out; pumped them back into me. Fully out, then in again; forcing my tight bud to relax, to permit him entry. I groaned; I realized I was moving, pushing back on him on each thrust. The thought was shocking, and with the shock came arousal, powerful and potent. My pussy clenched in need.
He moved away for an instant, returning with something. “This is a string of anal beads,” he said. “They’ll help open you up.”
I took a deep breath, willing away the tendril of fear that had risen. I didn’t have much time to wonder if I could take the beads though, because he quickly pushed two of them into my asshole. I groaned, but I could hear myself, and the sound was more arousal than pain. Patrick heard the tone too, and pushed another bead into me.
“Nice,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“My pussy’s dripping,” I replied honestly. He laughed, warmth and pleasure in this voice.
“Good,” he said. His fingers pushed another bead into me, and now there was a feeling of fullness in me. Not uncomfortable, not after the enema. Just a heightened awareness that there were four anal beads in me.
The crop found my ass with a flick, and I straightened; Patrick had caught me slumping again. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I wanted to hold position; I needed to please him. He just kissed my shoulder in reply.
“You are perfect,” he said softly. “I’m going to fuck your ass now,” he continued.
“Yes,” I said. I was so ready; the beads had opened me up, and I wanted to feel him drive into me. He pulled the beads out, and I could hear the zipper being undone, his pants falling to the floor, the tearing of a condom wrapper. Kneeling as I was, I was the perfect height for his cock to push into me.
He added another squirt of lube in me, then moved so that his cock was at the entrance of my asshole. “Push back into me,” he ordered. I obeyed; everything was hazy with lust now, and I wanted him, any way I could have him. I pushed, bit my lip as my asshole stretched to accommodate his thick head.
“Almost there,” he said tensely. He had displayed such impeccable control that I’d lost sight of the fact that this scene was one of his fantasies. “Push back again, baby,” he said evenly. His hands were stroking my sides, radiating calm certainty that I would find this pleasurable.
I pushed back; I trusted him. I felt my asshole yield, and his head popped into my tight anal passage.
He groaned. “Fuck, Lisa, you are so tight,” he said hoarsely. He held my hips in his hands, and pushed into me gently, maddeningly slow, till I couldn’t take it anymore, and pushed my ass towards him, burying his cock in my anus.
He laughed. “Such impatience,” he teased. He pulled out, slid back into me again. Strange pleasure was rising in me. This was nothing like the first time I’d had anal sex; that experience had been painful and I had no desire to repeat it. But this was erotic; there was something about the forbidden nature of the act; of the way my ass was yielding to his hard cock that caused my pussy to drip.
“Please,” I begged.
“Please what, sweetness?” he asked me. “Tell me what you want.”
“Please, Patrick, take me hard…” I ground out. I wanted him to claim me; to take me in a way that would please him; I wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given me.
He stroked my hips just for an instant, and then he pulled out and thrust back into me. It was a hard stroke, but controlled. I bit my lips and pushed back towards him.
“More, please, don’t stop,” I begged him.
“Ah, Lisa,” he groaned, his fingers reaching around to find my clitoris. He sped up; thrusting more steadily now, setting a rhythm that was echoed in his fingers grinding into my clitoris, and I came almost as soon as his fingers touched me, crying and pushing back into him in a frenzy of need. He slowed down, just a little, as I thrashed out my climax, but then he moved again, and this time, he moved hard and fast and steady, and I held on for the ride, every nerve ending pulsing and tingling. Finally, he exploded in me with a choked-off shout, and we both collapsed on the table.
I turned on my side to look at him as soon my breathing turned normal. I had a big smile on my face, as I cupped his face between my hands and kissed him. “Thank you,” I said.
He smiled at me. “I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you,” he said. He pulled me into his body, and we just lay there for a while; me, still in my bra and stockings and garter belt; Patrick, naked; our legs intertwined, our hands held.
Patrick:
We were tired, sleepy and satiated the next morning, having spent most of the night making love. Both of us needed plenty of coffee to wake up, and we were still yawning after our first cups.
“Do you have to go to work today? Sure you just don’t want to pop back into bed?” I asked her, as I poured her a second cup of coffee.
She made a face. “Yeah, I have this client who’s pretty demanding. I’ve promised him I’ll walk him through the work we’ve done so far at ten.”
I looked at my watch. “Let’s go then,” I said. She needed to go to her place first to grab a change of clothes. “I’ll give you a ride…”
“No surgery today?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not till Sunday,” I said.
“I’m jealous,” Lisa said. “All I want right now is a nap.”
I raised an eyebrow. “All you want?” I teased. “Not even a little orgasm first, to take the edge off?”
She threw her head back and laughed, that sexy, sexy sound. “Okay, maybe I want an orgasm first,” she admitted, her eyes bright with lust. “But yeah, I’ve got to run. Charles will get cranky if I’m late.”
“Charles is your demanding client?” I asked.
She nodded, gulping down her coffee. “Give me a couple of seconds to change, and I’ll be ready, okay?”
***
She was wearing the red dress from last night; she made a face at me. “I’m doing the walk of shame,” she commented.
I smiled at her; shook my head. “Don’t,” I said. There was nothing shameful about us; this chemistry, this comfort between us was glorious; unexpected and sweet.
She smiled back at me, perhaps sensing the things I left unsaid. “Shall we?” she asked.
***
I waited for her to grab her stuff, and then drove her to work. I didn’t have anything else to do, and it was nice to just hang out with her in the car. Once I pulled in front of her building, I leaned forward and kissed her.
“You want to grab lunch with me today?” I asked her. I couldn’t get enough of her.
She looked at her phone; checked her calendar. “Yes,” she said. “Charles at 10, and a shopping trip at 3pm. I’ve time for a quick lunch.”
“Good,” I said, kissing her again. “Alright, baby, out you go, I’ve places to be and things to do.” I was teasing; she was the one with the busy schedule today.
She grinned at me. “Yes sir,” she said, smiling sweetly and winking at me as she got out of the car.
I was laughing as I drove away.
Lisa:
I was humming as I entered the office, glancing at the clock. Nine am. Good. I wasn’t running late yet.
Charles Dobson was a demanding client. I was designing his penthouse condo along the waterfront. A lawyer, he worked hard and played hard, according to the rumour mills. He wasn’t my type; he was too rich, too dominating, too Type-A. He had impeccable taste though, and plenty of money to throw at me. In return, he demanded my best work. Sleepy and yawning weren’t going to cut it.
“Natalie,” I said, yawning, “I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee real quick, you want something?”
She shook her head. “You don’t have a ton of time,” she warned me.
I nodded. “I’ll be quick,” I promised.
I grabbed a large coffee from the coffee shop downstairs; then rushed back to the office. Nine fifteen. I needed to grab my binder for Charles, and run.
Binder. Coffee. Handbag. Jacket. I quickly found everything I needed, juggling everything in my hands, wincing a little as I rushed. I desperately needed the coffee to start working; every bit of my body was sore from last night, and I needed to be on my A-game with Charles.
“Okay, see you right after lunch, Natalie, about 2pm?” I called out as I was leaving.
I didn’t hear her reply, because my heel missed the top stair. I flailed and tried to steady myself, but my hands were full of stuff, and I couldn’t recover my balance. The coffee flew in the air, and I fell, sliding down the rest of the stairs. I hit the front door hard, my left wrist taking the brunt of the fall.
Natalie rushed out at the sound of me falling, and she skipped down the stairs in concern, helping me rise. I winced. I had spilled coffee on my blouse, but that wasn’t what I was worried about; my left wrist was painful, rapidly swelling in size, and tender to the touch.
“Shit,” I swore. “I think it might be broken,” I muttered. Great.
“Lisa, go to the emergency room,” Natalie ordered, taking a look at my face. Her face was white, pinched with worry.
I nodded. My wrist was throbbing now, and I knew I needed to get it looked at. “Natalie, you’ll have to cover Charles’ condo walkthrough. Basically, he just wants to see where we are at; can you handle it?”
She gulped. She’d met Charles once before; he’d been yelling at me. I’d been unfazed by it; she was younger than me though, and a lot less tough. I felt guilty about dropping Charles on her. “I’ll handle it,” she said bravely. “Go to the hospital.”
She gathered binders; gathered the contents of my strewn purse and shoved them back in place. “Come on,” she said, eyeing me with worry. “Let’s call you a cab, I’ll take care of Charles Dobson.”
I laughed a little shakily. “Good luck,” I said. “Sorry about this…” I gestured to my wrist.
She rolled her eyes; shook her head. “I’m assuming you didn’t fall down the stairs on purpose to get out of this meeting,” she said wryly. She bundled me into a cab and told the driver to take me to Toronto General.
***
The emergency room was fairly empty, all things considered. There were fewer than thirty people there. I wandered up to the intake point; gestured to my wrist, gave the woman my Health Card. She nodded at me, making a face at the wrist. “Not too crowded today,” she said. “The wait should be less than an hour.”
I sighed in relief. Emergency room waits could take three hours, if you weren’t seriously injured, and by emergency room standards, my possibly-broken wrist was nothing to worry about. I settled down in a chair, contemplated calling Patrick, but deciding against it. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to come wait with me.
I eyed the time. Ten-fifteen. I told Patrick I’d meet him at noon for lunch; I was pretty sure I’d be back to the office by then. No need to call.
I started reading a book to pass the time. It was an old John Grisham book that I had never got around to reading; I was quickly lost in the book, oblivious to passing time. Finally, I heard my name called by a white-coated doctor.
“Lisa Preston?”
I got up, wincing at my wrist. It was still swollen and throbbing.
He was young, probably just out of residency. He looked at my wrist. “You need to head to X-ray,” he said. “Third floor…”
He filled in a form, gave it to me. “They’ll do one right away, you don’t have to wait in line again,” he said, answering the question I was going to ask. I took his paperwork and looked at my watch. Crap. It was eleven-fifteen. There was no way I was going to make it back to my office in time. I picked up my phone and called Patrick.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Lisa,” he said, a smile in his voice. “What’s up?”
“I might have to take a rain-check on lunch,” I told him. “I fell down the stairs in my office; hurt my wrist. I’m in the ER right now.”
A swift intake of breath. “Which ER?” he asked quickly, concern in his voice.
“Toronto General,” I answered. “I’m fine though.”
“I’m coming over; I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” His voice was firm.
“Patrick, that isn’t really necessary,” I protested weakly. I was lying to myself; I did want him around; I wanted to lean on him and take comfort in his strength.
“It’s necessary for me,” he said. “I’ll call you when I get there.” He hung up.
I was smiling as I hung up; warmth in my heart. He was acting like a boyfriend, concerned, protective and caring and I liked it.
I wandered to the elevator, punched in the button for the third floor. A movement caught my eye; someone reaching for the elevator door. I obligingly held it open.
It was her. The red-haired vision from last night. Patrick’s ex-wife Andrea.
***
She gave me a polite smile, and then she recognised me, and she inclined her head in greeting. “I met you last night, didn’t I?” she asked. “Lisa?”
I nodded, unsure what to say. Her eyes took in my swollen wrist, and she smiled.
“Patrick can be rough, can’t he?” she asked. Her voice was slightly snide; so discreetly malicious that I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things.
“I beg your pardon?” I said.
“You are Patrick’s submissive, aren’t you?” she asked, her head tilted. “It’s okay, I know the signs. After all, I was his 24/7 submissive for eight years. He can be harsh and controlling sometimes, but you’ll get used to it; find you actually like it.”
My face must have paled; my mind went blank with shock. She had been his fulltime submissive? The words she was using were the words of my worst nightmare.
He could be harsh and controlling, but she realized she actually liked it.
That could have been Nick and I. Except I got out of that, just in time, before I got in too deep.
She muttered something; I didn’t hear her. The elevator doors opened; she left, leaving me with a throbbing wrist and head, and the slow shattering of my heart.
***
“Lisa,” I heard Patrick’s voice. He strode up to me, concern in his glance. “You okay, baby? Here, let me see,” he took my wrist in his hand, touched it gently to examine it.
My heart was racing in my chest as I looked at him. It all made sense now; the look in his eyes; the ease at which he’d agreed to spank me, the dominance in his voice when he told me to spread my legs.
There was fear in my eyes; I couldn’t hide it. I wasn’t afraid of Patrick. I was afraid of me. I had been that girl; in a submissive relationship that extended beyond the doors of the bedroom, and I’d almost lost my direction and my sense of self. I never wanted to go there again. I had to leave; I had to walk away from Patrick before it all became too late; before I sunk into the quicksand and couldn’t find a way out.
I saw a movement from the corner of my eyes. It was Andrea, walking to the nurses’ station, talking to one of the women there, grabbing a file.
Patrick saw my eyes leave his for a second; he followed my gaze. I heard him suck in a breath.
“What did she tell you?” he asked. He didn’t bother to hide the trepidation in his voice.
“What you should have told me,” I whispered. “I need to leave.”
I spun around and ran, not being able to see where I was going, the tears in my eyes clouding my vision. “Give me strength,” I prayed to myself as I ran. “Give me the strength to stay away from him…”