Doctor's Orders: The Exam (3 page)

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.

Gingerly, 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. Quickly 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 is ceasing 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
nervously.

“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 if I do what he says.

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 enthusiastically, 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 word.”

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 smoothes 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 beseechingly 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.