Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) (9 page)

I quickly dressed, noting that the corset was cut really, really low on my chest. If I breathed deeply, my breasts would pop out. I grinned at that thought. I ran a comb through my hair, and left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. My bedroom door was closed, and I knocked.

“Come in,” Patrick called, and I entered. There were candles flickering through the room, my bedside lamp was on, but with a scarf draped over it for softer lighting, and some instrumental music played in the background from my phone dock.

“Lisa,” he breathed, taking me in. “You look glorious.”

“You have good taste in lingerie,” I commented.

He smiled. “Speak only when spoken to tonight, baby,” he said, and I bit my lip in nervous arousal and nodded.

There were toys laid out on my bed in a neat line. He beckoned me closer to him, and slowly and methodically fastened a pair of wrist cuffs to my hand
s, and then led me to my closet door. There was an over-the-door rod to which he efficiently fastened my cuffs, positioning me so that I was facing the door, with my ass sticking towards him. 

He stood back and I could feel him eye me. My legs, though not fastened to anything, had automatically spread apart so that my pussy would be accessible to Patrick. My arms were secured wide apart and above my head, and I needed to stand on tip-toe to avoid straining my shoulders.

“Nice,” he said approvingly. “Stop wriggling. I’m going to the shower now, so find something to entertain yourself with for the next few minutes.”

The jerk. My hands were tied and I couldn’t get myself off, and I was clearly supposed to just stay tied up and wait for him to come tend to me. But my voice, when I spoke, was soft and submissive. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said meekly, and he snickered as he walked away.

I kept still
for a while, then I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t long though. He reappeared just as I was discreetly trying to rub my nipples against the wood of the door. I hadn’t noticed him, lost in my own haze of lust, but a stinging slap on my ass stopped me in my tracks, and Patrick came around to my line of sight, holding a crop in his hand.

“Do you really want me punishing you already?” he asked mockingly, shaking his head in rebuke.

I flushed. “No, Dr. Anderson,” I muttered, my eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

His lips twitched.
He had dressed in just a pair of jeans. I openly drank in the sight of his firm chest, the scattering of hair that covered him, snaking a path down to his crotch, and I bit my lip as my gaze settled on his erection, clearly visible through his jeans.

“Stand straight,” he ordered. “Stick your butt out.” He took a firm hold of my hips and pulled me away from the door slightly, doing something to lower the chains
to which he had fastened my cuffs so that I could bend my shoulders. I half-bent at my waist, and I pushed my ass out towards him.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Three firm strokes of the riding crop stung my ass, and I whimpered slightly and wriggled a little. His hands were immediately at my hips again, positioning me to his satisfaction. “Hold that pose,” he ordered.

His hands were on my ass, kneading each cheek, spreading them apart. I sighed as pleasure snaked through me, and I heard him chuckle softly. “You like this?” I nodded silently, and he came around, took my face in his hands, and kissed me briefly and thoroughly, before walking back to my ass again.

Two more swats with the riding crop, this time on my other ass cheek, and then he threaded his hand through my hair and pulled me up. “Stand,” he ordered, tightening his grip on my hair and pulling it back. “Part your legs.”

I obeyed, and he quickly pulled down my skimpy thong and made me step out of it. Then he stood next to me, his hard chest making contact with my side, and rubbed the shaft of the crop between my legs, running it through my pussy lips. I whimpered as I tried to grind against the shaft. I was hoping to get myself off.

“Stop that,” he said sternly, and I groaned in despair. The entire experience of being restrained against my
closet and being forced to wait for Patrick to shower had sent my arousal sky high. I was more than ready to explode, but I knew that I’d have to wait a long time for him to give me permission to come.

The leather of the crop traced a path through my slit, and I bit my lip and kept as still as I could. Patrick drew it slowly through my puffy lips, and then pulled it out and delivered two stinging slaps on my ass. Then, the crop was back between my lips, and I could feel my pussy part to welcome it into me.

Patrick’s hands gripped my ass cheeks, and he parted them, exposing my soaking pussy and my tight asshole to his gaze. “Push your butt out towards me,” he ordered, and I obeyed. “I’m going to put the crop on your back, Lisa,” he instructed me coolly. “If it drops, you are going to be in trouble.”

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered.
Don’t move. Easier said than done.

His hands gripped and kneaded my ass cheeks, and I could feel his breath against my ass. Then, his tongue danced on that tight bud, and I squealed a startled squeak, and almost jumped.

“Shh,” he said, and resumed. His tongue danced a tight spiral around my asshole, and I groaned in response. Then his mouth went to my pussy, sucking in my lips, nibbling, biting and licking every dripping inch. I moved my legs wider and thrust my ass every further out towards him, begging him silently for more.

He was happy to oblige. For minutes, he stayed at my pussy, sucking my inner lips into his mouth, flicking his tongue over my clitoris, taking a leisurely lick of my slit. I stayed still, mindful of the crop balanced on my arched back, but it was the hardest thing I’d done. The only thing that kept me obedient was the thought that as punishment, he might stop what he was doing.

“Oh fuck, Patrick,” I ground out as his hand came out to grab my thigh, and his mouth kept working my pussy. “Please…” I could feel his other hand dance on my back, and then the crop swatted my ass at the same time. I bit my lip, and prepared to dance at that dividing line between pleasure and pain. My Dom would keep me there for a while.

“Oh my god, fuck, yeah, please,” I moaned, entirely incoherent as his teeth and his tongue played with my pussy and my clitoris. I could hear him make guttural noises of appreciation, and
the growls from Patrick just made me even more aroused. Even closer to orgasm.

He pulled away for a minute. “Don’t even think about coming,” he warned me, and then resumed his dancing assault on my pussy.

I gritted my teeth and held on. I was torn between needing to obey him and wanting to smack him on the head for torturing me in such a way.

Right when I was going to scream
yellow
, convinced I couldn’t hold on any longer, he pulled away, and stood up. He straightened my body, and then pulled me into his chest, and he kissed my neck, and nibbled at my earlobe. “Such a tasty treat,” he smiled into my ear. I whimpered again. I had been so close.

He backed away, and I took several deep breaths, coming down from that narrow ledge. Then, he moved towards me again, and pressed the shaft of the crop against my mouth. “Open,” he ordered.
“Hold it for me.” His hands pulled my breasts out from the corset, and he cupped and squeezed them, running his palms over my nipples. I arched back into him, and leaned my head against his shoulder.

His hands traced pathways down my body. Breasts. Waist. Hips. Ass. A short swipe of my pussy, then my breasts again. I whimpered as he once more took me higher and higher on the path of arousal, and I struggled again to hold back my climax.

“Such a good girl,” he breathed into my neck, and he tipped my head firmly and kissed me again. For a minute, I just gazed into his eyes, drowning in his clearly visible expression of lust. He finally shook his head slightly, and pulled away, but I could see a half-smile on his face. Patrick wasn’t unaffected by what he was doing to me. But he was good at holding on to his control.

“Let’s turn you around,” he said, freeing my hands, and spinning me so that I faced him. “How are your shoulders, can you get tied up again?” he asked, checking in. I nodded.

“Good,” he said, and quickly strapped me back to my closet door restraints. As he fastened them in place, his knuckle brushed against a nipple, as if by accident, and I moaned and rubbed my breast against his hand. I was a shameless, panting ball of need, and I flushed at how wanton I was being. But my embarrassment was outweighed by my lust.

He eyed me sternly as soon as he caught on to what I was doing, and his palm delivered a stinging blow to the offending breast, setting it swaying to and fro. “Are you allowed to rub yourself against me?” he demanded, and I
was angry with myself, disappointed in my failure to obey and be good for him.

I
shook my head hastily. He was being very dominant tonight, and my submission ran deep in me as well.

“Then obey,” he snapped, and I nodded my acceptance.

He lowered his mouth to my nipple, drawing it into his mouth and biting the tip softly till I whimpered. His fingers played with the other breast, and I stayed as still as I could. His mouth trailed kisses on my breasts, and he encouraged me to wrap a leg around him so that my dripping crotch came in contact with his erection. The temptation to grind against his cock was so great, but I held motionless with effort. I moaned, the crop in my mouth preventing me from forming words, from pleading with him for release.

His hands pulled my hips into his body, and his fingers found my pussy and pushed in. He finger-fucked me while I moaned, incoherent with need. He added a thumb up my ass, and I mewled through the crop. “Such a nice, wet pussy,” he said with satisfaction, as his other hand gripped my ass painfully. His mouth kept on my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth till they were swollen and tender and very, very engorged.

I was moaning almost constantly. I was afloat on a sea of sensation, and I clung to Patrick and I let myself surrender to him. He would keep me safe.

He bit my nipple, and I groaned
Patrick
, and the crop in my mouth dropped on to the floor. “Did you drop the fucking crop?” he asked me, his voice dangerous. He drew away from me, and his palm delivered two stinging slaps to my breasts. “Stand up straight.”

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, and he leaned forward and kissed me.

“Check in, baby. How are you doing?”

I looked at him. The intensity of a really good session was still there, but I blinked my lust aside and I smiled at him. “I’m doing great,” I said. “I’ll tell you, I promise.” A brief pang of my heart. He was right to check in on me. Because though he didn’t yet know it, I had shown that I couldn’t be trusted.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, interrupting the unpleasant journey that my thoughts had taken me on. I was happy to obey. He bent and picked the crop up off the floor. “You know you weren’t allowed to drop the crop, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whimpered. The crop swished through the air, and I clenched my ass in anticipation, but the blow didn’t fall.

“Remember the ginger, Lisa?” His voice was dangerous. “You clench that ass, I will leave you here, go to a grocery store, find a piece of ginger and shove it up your ass, do you understand me?”

He was being so strict with me. So dominant. Every word he spoke sent arousal threading through me. I nodded silently and forced my muscles to relax. The crop swished experimentally a couple of times, and I clenched my fingers into a fist, but my ass muscles remained slack. Two quick strokes of the crop eventually struck my ass, and I bit my lip. The blows hadn’
t been hard, just sharp and stinging. They stoked the fires of my arousal even higher.

He knelt next to me, and his fingers found my dripping pussy, and he coated his fingers in my juice. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and I parted my lips obediently. I thought he would shove his fingers into my mouth, but he instead rubbed his fingers against my lips so that my juices were smeared all over them. “So
fuckable,” he ground out. “It’s taking all the control I have to not take you on the floor right now.”

I mewled. “Please Patrick,” I begged, but he didn’t respond to my whimpers. He just smiled at me, drew my hair back, and kissed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes, and just let myself feel.

“No, no,” he chided. “I want you to keep your eyes open.” I complied reluctantly with his demand, and he smiled at me again, and stood up. “Open your mouth, kitten.”

His cock. He was finally going to let me suck his cock. Oh thank god. I couldn’t wait.

“Wider,” he added, seeing my open mouth. He just stood there, looking down at me, sitting on my haunches, my hands resting on my thighs, my mouth ready for his cock, and he smiled at me with complete male satisfaction.

His fingers on his zipper moved excruciatingly slowly, but I kept very quiet and very still. I was so close to my reward, to feeling him in my mouth. I was not going to risk upsetting him. He was perfectly capable of tucking himself back in and walking away if I wasn’t obedient enough.

He pulled out his cock, and my mouth opened even wider, and he chuckled. “An exceedingly flattering reaction, that one,” he smiled at me. He placed the head of his cock at my lower lip, and I sat there, waiting for him to give me permission to begin.