One Hot Night (8 page)

Jennifer stayed
silent, staring at the ceiling even though she knew the doctor was waiting for
a reply.

“Well, then. What
do you think? Shall we try the belt?”

She had been
afraid that was where this was going. How could she actually ask him to hit her
with his belt? There’s no way it could possibly feel good. It would hurt too
much. But he acted like it was normal, and she had loved it so much in the
dream.

Finally looking at
him, she asked, “Won’t it hurt?”

“It will,” he
answered. “It will leave you with stripe marks on your rear end, and you’ll
probably scream and cry. Not to mention how difficult it will be to sit down
for the next several days.”

Growing agitated
she sat up and threw her hands in the air. “Then why on earth would I want you
to do that to me?”

“Because,” he
said, taking her hands in his and staring into her eyes, “there’s something
special inside you that will like it. There’s a part of you that takes that
pain and elevates it to something beyond mere pleasure. You will experience a
rush of endorphins like you never have before and even possibly enter a sort of
wakeful dream state where the strike of the belt seems like it’s reaching you
through ten layers of cotton.”

Jennifer’s eyes
widened as she listened to him explain it all in a low, seductive voice.
Somehow he made her want to feel the belt against her skin. He made the
experience sound worth the pain.

“I don’t know,”
she stammered.

“Do you trust me?”
he asked.

Strangely, she
did. Even though this was only her second appointment and even though he had
done things to her well outside the typical medical exam, she trusted him.

“Yes,” she said.

“Then let me share
this with you. Everything we’ve done tonight and the previous night has
indicated you will respond to this positively. I will give you five stripes
with the belt and then have sex with you anally. You will most likely orgasm at
least two times. And, when we’re done, you’ll be physically and emotionally
drained. I will help you with that too. You will stay here with me until you’re
able to function safely and discuss everything we did in a constructive manner.
By the time you leave here, you’ll know if this is your sexuality.”

Mesmerized by his
confidence, she nodded slowly. “Okay. I consent.”

He smiled at her.
“Good girl. I’m proud of you. Go ahead and lie back down. Feet flat on the
table, butt hanging over the end. I’m going to stretch you and then insert a
plug to help you stay open while we do the punishment.”

Gulping, she laid
down as he asked. He stretched her ass exactly as he had the other night. Only
this time, once he’d gotten her comfortable with two fingers, he lubed up a
black, silicone anal plug and slid it into her body, tapping the flange on the
bottom once it was in place.

“You did well,” he
said when he was done. “Now up on your hands and knees, please.”

She flipped over
and got up on all fours. When Dr. Franklin started lowering the table to put
her at the right height, she had the same exact feeling like when she was on a
roller coaster a date had talked her into going on. She was terrified and when
she got to the top of the hill, nearly in a panic state. But then the coaster
had gone over the hill, and she had ended up enjoying the ride.

Still, the part she
remembered most of all was the sheer terror of the moment before going down the
big drop. And now there wasn’t a bar locking her in or the complete lack of an
exit.

“Uhm, I don’t
think I can do this after all,” she stammered out while scrambling off the
table.

He had already
taken off his belt and stood holding it. But he didn’t lose patience with her
or seem irritated.

“How about you
drape yourself over the table instead? That will be more like your dream. Here,
let me raise it back up a little.”

Jennifer wanted
only to run from the room, but when he patted the table expectantly and looked
her in the eye, she found she didn’t have it in her to defy him. The next thing
she knew, she was bent over the table, her ass in the air.

Perhaps knowing if
he said anything else, she might bolt again, there was no further warning
before the first strike. It came down hard across her ass and she screamed,
reaching back and grabbing her cheeks in her hands.

“Ow! That hurts!”

He didn’t answer
her, but took her wrists in his hand and held them over her back. Then, he hit
her again, even harder this time. Her reaction was the same, but some little
tiny part of her brain woke up and sent a thrill down her back. It was as
elusive as a piece of dust in the sunshine, but she felt it nonetheless.

The belt fell
again and again. She was sobbing now, her ass feeling like it was being feasted
on by hundreds of fire ants.

“You’re doing
excellent. Only one more,” he said.

And then the final
blow fell. She had survived. Her mind was reeling and there wasn’t a coherent
thought in her head, but she had lived through it.

Dimly she was
aware of the doctor tossing aside the belt and getting into position behind
her. The plug was removed and the head of his cock started to push and prod at
her ass. She barely felt it thanks to the pain on her ass. He had no problem
slipping all the way in even though her ass now felt more stretched than ever
before.

Once he was balls
deep, he grabbed her hips and started moving slowly in and out. With everything
going on in her head and her body, she couldn't really separate one sensation
from the rest. Yes, she had a cock in her ass, a place no cock had never been
before. But she also had red welts on her rear end that were getting more
inflamed each time he thrust and her skin met his pelvis.

The earth shattering
aspect of the whole ordeal, at least mentally, was the overwhelming relief of
actually enjoying what he was doing, despite all the discomfort and pain.

She had been
terrified her dreams would only prove to be ridiculous manifestations from some
unknown stimulus. But the exact opposite was true. And even though the
complexity of what she was feeling far exceeded what she’d been able to come up
with in her dreams since, prior to tonight, her brain had no memories to draw
from, she still loved it and knew it was her.

He fucked her ass
like he’d done her pussy and mouth before, with a robotic steady rhythm. With
zero clit or pussy stimulation, she felt a very similar pressure like when she
would be coming soon. Except it was so different. She longed for something to
touch directly on her pussy, but the climax kept building anyway. The angle of
his cock managed to stimulate a sensitive spot.

Desperately hoping
he wouldn’t stop like before, she clenched up her pussy muscles. Instantly,
everything ramped up. Her orgasm was just about there, then was crashing over
her in the next stuttering breath, drowning her in a tumultuous wave.

She screamed out
as her fingers dug deep into the cushion. She clutched for dear life. He kept
on fucking her, like he hadn’t even noticed she’d come.

And then something
happened that had never happened to her before—a new climax immediately started
to build inside her, and it came on even quicker than the last. Ten strokes of
the doctor’s cock later, she was coming again.

And that was when
the stoic, clinical, professional doctor finally let himself go. With a deep,
quiet grunt and an extra tight grip on her hips, he came inside her, clutching
her body as close to his as he could. For only that moment, she felt like
something more than just a patient to him. She smiled, feeling like she had
done something absolutely amazing for more than just herself.

Like he promised
her, he didn’t let her go until she was rock steady and capable of coherent
thought. He gave her water and cookies as if she just donated blood. When she
was ready, they talked for quite some time about what all they had done.

She left Dr.
Franklin’s office feeling like she was entering a whole new world, one that
made her previous existence seem like it had happened on a planet far away. Now
she saw her life in its true light and was ready to move forward into uncharted
territory.

A couple years
later she ran into Dr. Franklin at a party. He was with a pet slave girl, and Jennifer
was with her dominant of one year. That night the four of them celebrated anew
Dr. Franklin’s successful work with Jennifer...but that is another story for
another time.

*Second Free Bonus Story *

“You really should
come tonight. It’s my first night working out on the floor.”

   
Katherine stirred her tea with a spoon and
looked up at her friend. “I don’t know, Bethany. It’s not really my thing. I
would feel really awkward.”

   
“You don’t have to stay long if you’re that
uncomfortable. Everyone is really nice and respectful, though. You might be
able to write an article about it, maybe?”

   
Katherine laughed. “Maybe. I can just see my
editor’s face.” She took a bite out of her muffin, and waved a hand in the air.
“My night at an S&M club.
Exactly
the right thing for next month’s issue.”

   
“It’s really not as weird as you think it
is.”

   
Katherine raised an eyebrow.

   
Bethany sighed. “Okay, it’s a little weird.
But a…fun kind of weird. Like I said, everyone is really nice. They don’t make
you feel pressured to join in or anything.”

   
"Let me see how I feel tonight. I’ve
got a long day ahead of me. Errands, research to do at the library, an article
to start. If I’m feeling up to it, I’ll come out.” Bethany grinned as Katherine
held up a hand. “
If
I feel up to it.
I very well might feel up to a night in with the rest of my bottle of wine and
Netflix.”

   
“Fair enough. I really do hope you stop by,
though. I hear an interesting visitor might be in town.”

   
“Interesting…like the President?” Katherine
asked, a little sarcastically.

   
“Interesting, as in Andrew Blake.” Bethany leaned
in a little as she said it, her voice low. “It’s a big secret. I shouldn’t be
saying anything. It’s just a rumor that’s been flying around the club, but
supposedly he’s really into the BDSM scene, he just doesn’t go to any of the
clubs, unless he’s in Europe. But word is that he’s friends with the owner of
this club, so he’s coming for the grand re-opening after the renovation. It
could all just be a rumor, of course.”

   
“Bethany, you know if I see him there,
that
would be a hell of an article.”

   
“I thought you worked for a fashion
magazine, not a gossip mag.”

   
“I do!” Katherine insisted, looking a little
hurt. “But that article would be a hell of a lot more appealing to my editor if
Andrew Blake’s name was in it. He owns a share in almost every business in this
city…and in a city this size, that’s quite a lot.”

   
“It also might hurt his business. We’re all
about freeing people, not making them feel like they have to hide.” Bethany’s
face got serious. “Katherine, if you see him there, please don’t write about
it.”

   
“This is San Francisco. He’d probably have
ten more offers by the morning if his cohorts knew he was into freaky shit.”

   
Bethany sighed. “You might be right. But
still…I hope you’ll come just for fun and not because you think you can get a
scoop out of it.”

   
“And here, earlier, you were encouraging
me.”

   
“That’s before I remembered who might be
there.”

   
Katherine set her cup of tea down and pushed
it, and the empty plate that had held her muffin, over to the edge of the
table. “Alright. Well, if I am going to
maybe
show up tonight, I better get moving on the things I need to get done today.
And you should probably take a nap before your big night.”

   
Bethany smiled. “You’re probably right.”

   
Katherine stood and gave her a quick kiss on
the cheek. “I’ll text you and let you know if I’m coming, okay?”

   
“Okay.”

***

   
By eight that evening, Katherine still
hadn’t decided whether she should go. She mulled it over as she showered,
recognizing that she was going through her
‘going
out’
motions even as she tried to talk herself into staying home. She washed
her hair, shaved her legs; even rubbed her skin down with an exfoliating scrub
before washing off and throwing her wet hair up in a towel.

   
“What am I even going to wear?” she moaned
to herself, walking naked to the closet and flinging it open, staring at the
contents inside.

   
What
did
one wear to the re-opening night of one of the premiere BDSM clubs in San
Francisco? Bethany had been training there for nearly a month as a professional
dominatrix, and despite her prior kink and fetish-model resume—which was
impressively long—she had to interview three times and commit to the training
program before they would offer her a full-time job. The club was apparently no
joke.

Katherine rarely
even went to regular nightclubs. She wasn’t sure she could hack even an hour in
this place.

   
The whole concept behind S&M confused
her more than a little. She knew people, acquaintances really, who were into
it. And, of course, there was Bethany. Privately, she supposed that the idea of
letting someone take charge, of being trapped in a scenario where there was
nothing for her to do but
feel…
it did
seem alluring. But she had a hard enough time finding men for regular sex that
weren’t total assholes. She wasn’t sure that men who enjoyed dealing out pain
would be any better—and she suspected they might be significantly worse.

   
She decided to go simple. She didn’t have a
lot in the way of skimpy clothing, since her preferred night out was a good
gastropub and maybe some live music or a walk through the city to the next bar
that had good beer on tap. She liked the kind of nights that involved a pair of
worn-in, rolled-up chinos and a loose blouse, with flats for walking. But she
supposed, for Bethany, she could make the effort.

   
She pulled a short black dress from the back
of her closet. She had maybe worn it once before, to a nightclub opening that
one of her friends had been a DJ for. She was sensing a theme here.

It hit mid-thigh,
and the fabric was skin-tight. She silently thanked herself for having been
going to the gym regularly. The dress had thin straps, and a deep v that
definitely revealed more than she was used to.

   
She rummaged through her underwear drawer,
settling on a black silk thong that wouldn’t leave any lines in the tight
dress, and a leopard print push-up bra. She shimmied into the dress, hopping up
and down once or twice, and tugged up the zipper with a little effort. Once she
was in, however, she had to admit she looked pretty good. It was a clear
departure from her usual wardrobe—either work or casual.
 
She settled for brushing out her thick, dark
brown hair and curling the ends. Anything else wouldn’t last when she got
outside, anyway.

   
Glancing at her watch, she saw it was
nine-thirty. She hurriedly pulled out her makeup bag, doing a quick job of her
face. She focused more on her eyes, shadowing and lining them in record time until
they looked wide and smoky. Then she swept on rose-colored lipstick before
smacking her lips with a slight smile.

   
She rummaged for a pair of heels, settling
on lace-up stilettos, and quickly slid in her one pair of diamond stud
earrings, a graduation gift from her mother years ago. She grabbed a black
clutch, tossed in her apartment key, ID, credit card and the lipstick, and
reached for her phone to dial a taxi, taking a deep breath.

   
I
guess I really am doing this.
She thought to herself as she walked out the
front door with a heavy sigh.

***

   
She texted Bethany from the taxi.

-
I’m on my way. No promises on how long I’m
staying.-

   
Her phone chimed a few seconds later.

-
Good! I’m so excited! I think you’ll enjoy
it!-

   
Bethany was clearly excited. And why
shouldn’t she be? Katherine reasoned. Even if it wasn’t a particularly
traditional career path, Bethany loved it. Her friend had paid her way through
college by stripping and graduated with a degree in psychology, but she hadn’t
wanted to go on to graduate school. She’d moved to San Francisco with Katherine
largely because it was a city that was so accepting.

Katherine had
followed a job offer. Some days, during particularly slow hours at the office, she
wondered if she had made a mistake by following such a traditional path. She
worked at a magazine, put in her eight hours, hit the gym, and either went out
for dinner with friends or ordered delivery to her apartment more often than
not.

She dated
occasionally, had downloaded Tinder, and had sex about as often as she figured
other attractive women her age did. It was good sex usually, ‘normal’ sex. She
didn’t have any hang-ups about her body or her sexuality, and she’d always
considered herself a pretty well-adjusted woman in her twenties.

   
Yet, if she listened to Bethany, there was a
whole other world of sex that she hadn’t even tapped into. A world where sex
wasn’t just an activity that happened sometimes when the stars aligned, but
something to be pursued, enjoyed,
savored
—like
a good glass of wine. She shivered suddenly, wondering what it might be like to
have a man be so singularly devoted to the sensations that he was producing in
her body.

   
Even if some of them involved pain.

   
Katherine was snapped out of her thoughts by
the taxi pulling up to the curb. She quickly paid and stepped out, careful of
her stilettos on the uneven sidewalk and not flashing anyone in her short
dress.

   
The door to the club was a wrought-iron gate
flush with the wall, through which she could see a set of steps that descended
into a faintly lit darkness. There was a purple carpet rolled out onto the
sidewalk, and several black-clad bouncers hanging around the entrance. She
walked directly to the front and showed them her ID.

“I’m on the list.
Invitee of Bethany Rockland.”

   
One of the bouncers looked confused, but the
other, clearly more experienced, shook his head and pointed to the list.
“Mistress Venus.”

   
Katherine blinked, but said nothing.

   
They found her name, and the bouncer
produced a ring of keys that looked as though they belonged to a medieval
prison. He unlocked the gate and swung it open. “Enjoy your evening, Miss.”

   
Katherine smiled, and then focused on the
task of walking somewhat gracefully down the steep, dark stairs. She was
greeted immediately by a woman dressed only in a complicated mess of black
leather straps. One went across her breasts, obscuring her nipples, while
another wrapped just beneath them, pushing them upwards. Two crossed over her
abdomen in an X, while another went directly between her legs. She was
barefoot, and wore a thin black collar around her neck with a silver loop hanging
from it. She was balancing a tray of drinks, and handed Katherine a glass of
champagne.