Restrained by the Doctor (Doctor/Patient Medical BDSM Erotica)
Nearing thirty and growing desperate, Alyssa is eager to get on board when a friend agrees to set her up with a therapist specializing in orgasm therapy. She's been without a climax for fifteen years, and Dr. Eastlake seems like the key to breaking her humdrum sex life. For all of his good looks, he seems far more commanding and dominant than a therapist should be. More
Nearing thirty and growing desperate, Alyssa is eager to get on board when a friend agrees to set her up with a therapist specializing in orgasm therapy. She's been without a climax for fifteen years, and Dr. Eastlake seems like the key to breaking her humdrum sex life. For all of his good looks, he seems far more commanding than a therapist should be, ordering her about in a stunning display of dominance Alyssa realizes may have been the one thing she's been lacking all of these years.
The doctor seems to be as good as he says, but when he starts moving against her, touching her, drinking her in, she starts to wonder if they'll simply be able get Alyssa off. Can she resist his charm, or will Alyssa end up submitting to the handsome and intoxicating Dr. Eastlake?
Warning: This 10,000 word tale of medical erotica is intended for adults only and involves a woman that can't orgasm following the commands of a handsome doctor, being tied up and subjected to vibrators, dental forceps, lots of latex gloves, a forceful blowjob and orgasm denial that borders on unprofessionalism.
“You like being under control.”
Alyssa was silent. She didn’t necessarily think that he spoke the truth. There were plenty of other explanations for not asking sooner, her not knowing just what the hell he was doing one of them.
“I don’t think I like it,” she said. “I just didn’t know what you were doing. I don’t think anybody likes being under control.”
Eastlake tapped her on her inner knee. She opened her legs, her eyes wandering down. A hand came up just under her chin as fingers danced on her thighs. She gasped as he pushed her chin up, making Alyssa look him in the eyes.
“Doctor, I don’t want,” her eyes fluttered as his fingertips pattered up and over her legs, nearer and nearer her center. “I don’t appre—appreciate you being so rough with me.”
The doctor’s hand forced her right leg out wider. Her face was still cupped in his grasp, her eyes locked on his. He was dangerously close to her core, her body heating up despite herself. She didn’t want it, not like this, but her body? Her hips had pivoted toward him, her breathing had become shallow, full of soap and heady cologne.
“Doctor Eastlake,” she said. It came out a little louder than a whisper. Her breath caught in her throat as he ran a single digit along her slit, daring to nudge her pearl as he slid across her heat. Alyssa let out an exasperated gasp as he teased her, stomach fluttering with short, shallow breaths, her mouth hanging open.
It took all of her willpower not to bend into him, to buck and gasp and quiver as his finger teased her. Her eyelids fluttered as she cried out, feeling the muted heat of his gloved hand circle her pink pearl but never nudging it, gliding along her wet pussy with a learned elegance.
He dipped into her slowly, testing her, feeling her out, curling a single digit up inside and making her heave and squeeze. Alyssa’s hips moved toward him, hungry for him, craving him, but he pushed her back with the heel of his palm against her mound.