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A brush of a not quite accidental finger and I feel the soft mound of her sex.
She lets out a moan. She wants this.
Electra
He’s touching me in my most secret spot, and it feels good. Some have tried to touch me there in the past. I broke them for trying, but I don’t want to break the doctor. My bottom is warm from the spanking he gave me, and that dirty little hole between my thighs is clenching with an animal need.
“Do you like this?” He asks the question gently, his thumb still stroking right over my clit.
“Yes,” I moan softly.
“When you’re a good girl for me, I might rub your pussy, or maybe more. Would you like me to do that?”
He presses a little harder, and I feel heat well between my legs. This is not how I expected this day to go.
“Are doctors supposed to do this to patients?”
“Doctors used to do this to patients a lot, actually,” he says, still petting my sex. “It’s not a modern technique.”
“So this is… personal?”
I hate how hopeful my voice sounds. I loathe that I want him to care. We barely know one another. He owes me nothing. But I want him to care. Deep down, I need him to.
“Yes,” he says. “Very personal.”
Nothing has ever been personal before. I like personal. I like the way he’s touching me, he’s stirring a new set of sensations inside my body, an excitement and a happiness which flows through me. This feels good, but it feels so much more than good too. It feels filling and completing and oh… he runs a finger down the very seam of my lips to the place where my body opens up and presses the wet fabric to the tight little hole.
“You’re going to be mine,” he says. “I’m going to make you my very own. I’m going to teach you about yourself. Your body. Your world. And you’re going to be a very good girl for me, aren’t you?”
I hesitate, my breath catching in my throat as he makes another one of those delicious movements against my pussy, teasing, caressing, making me desperate for what Tyko always referred to as fucking.
“Aren’t you, Electra?” His voice is rough with male desire.
“Yes,” I hiss softly. It is the only answer I can permit myself, the only word that might take me closer to perfect pleasure.
Tom
“Have you ever been with a man, Electra?”
I know the answer before she says it.
“No,” she whimpers softly as my thumb strokes her sex.
Maybe we should be taking this slow, but I don’t know how much time we have. The impulse to physicality is strong in both of us. She is wet. She is willing. I am hard as rock and I yearn to pull these wet regulation panties aside and have my way with her.
There is some small voice in my head telling me that I should be more careful, that I’m rushing this impulsively, maybe even rushing her. But I have thought of her many nights. The way she arched her back and looked over her shoulder at me when she admitted that she was faking her injury.
That makes me think.
I pull my hand from her pussy and give her bottom a firm slap to redirect her attention. “The razor,” I say in response to her curse of questioning. “Where did you get it from?”
“I think you already know, Doc,” she giggles archly.
“That’s why you tricked Tyko into bringing you here. You wanted to find something to break out with. Why did it take three weeks?”
“Good things take time. Plus he was out with his kidneys for two weeks.”
I spank her again, enjoying the way her perfect ass fits in my palm when I cup it. She’s a bad little girl, alright. Her yelp is followed by another one of those triumphant giggles. She was looking for a way out today, and I guess she’s found one, even if it’s not the one she had in mind.
“I hope you know I’m going to be keeping a very close eye on you,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I am going to discipline you when you need it, and you could end up with a very sore bottom if you try a stunt like that again.”
“I hope so,” she murmurs, arching her hips up. Of course she likes being spanked. A lot of women do, and she has the kind of chaos about her which makes her a prime candidate for going over my knee damn near every day.
I love the way she feels there. Warm and soft and all mine.
“So, while I have you,” I say. “Want to tell me what the big secret is about you that’s being kept from me?”
“No,” she says, bluntly honest.
“Okay,” I reply. That is not a spankable offense. I’m sure whatever it is seems like a very big deal. Or is. I have my own suspicions as to what is going on, though suspicions are nothing to base real decisions on.
