Gallery

Sick Day, Part Three

She tried to push the panties out of her mouth to answer him, but he reached forward to push them back in, grabbing her chin and pulling back to make her arch. Then he touched the buzzing vibrator to the side of the thermometer, just above where it was pushed inside her.

She couldn’t control herself at that sensation, bucking and jerking as he held her tight to keep her from wriggling away. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets. Muffled sounds of outrage escaped her; it wasn’t painful, but not exactly pleasant either. It was sure as hell stimulating.

Then she felt him release her chin, reach back, and undo his belt.

She stilled, even as he continued to toy with the vibrator: the learned response to the slithering sound of leather through loops overrode her urge to squirm. He doubled it and let it brush slowly across her lower back, then the tops of her thighs, the places she knew he could make it hurt worse if he wanted to. Then he gave her one sharp snap on her left cheek.

She bit down on the sodden wad of fabric in her mouth and slowly exhaled, a little helpless mewl, but he didn’t spank her again. He just took her wrists, one by one, and crossed them on her back once more. Then he let the dangling end of the belt tap her on the shoulder.

She lifted her head. He tucked the belt under her, around her throat, and looped it through the buckle. He wrapped it around his fist, and she slid back on her elbows, presenting herself. Slick and swollen, dark pink, ready.

The angle of it made her gasp, when he pushed inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked her while teasing her ass, but it was definitely the first time he’d fucked her from behind with a glass rod buried inside her while obstructing her breathing with her own underwear and a convenient choke-leash. When he sat back on his heels, pulling her hips into him, and pressed the vibrator up against the top of her slit, she more or less lost the ability to think.

It was a nice position for him; he could make her fuck back against him by tugging the belt, and adjust her vertically to his preference via upward pressure on the vibe. The way this combination made her strain and struggle, gasping and trying to find her balance, was all that kept her from coming. She wanted him deep, wanted him to just plunge all the way into her, but he liked to keep it shallow sometimes: the head of his cock popping just in and out of her lips, teasing her needy cunt.

“Do you feel,” he panted, “any better?” But her only answer was a stuttered groan.

He made her come first. She could feel herself clenching tight around the thermometer. Distantly, she wondered if he was watching, if he could see it moving with each involuntary contraction–not that it would have been easy, given the way the rest of her was thrashing around. Just as she was coming down, he pulled out the glass plug and his cock, flipped her over on her back with one scoop of his arm, and jacked off onto her belly and chest.

Feeling his warmth spatter on her skin gave her a startling aftershock; she did spit out her gag, finally, chest heaving for air as the rush went through her and she collapsed out of her orgasmic arch.

He flopped down next to her, eyes barely open, grin very self-satisfied. “Are we sorry?”

“Yeah,” she said, after a couple of tries.

“Are we well?”

“Yeah.”

His hand was between her legs again, lightly testing the feel of her closed lips with all his fingers. She shivered; usually she was capable of revving right back up afterwards, but then usually she didn’t come quite that hard. He dipped a finger into her and then out, wetly slipping over her clit, which–well. Huh. Apparently she was ready to rev back up after all.

“I’m going to ask you to take over on this for me in a moment,” he murmured, “while I go get the laptop. And then, to make sure today’s lesson sticks, you’re going to walk me through every tab you have open. Every post you liked. Every line of conversation that made you this wet.”

“Now?” she said, startled.

“I took the afternoon off to take care of you,” he said, with that smug and sleepy smile. “And I intend to. As many times as necessary.”

She bit her lip. “Um. Okay.”

“That’s right, okay.”

“Some of it might just be… a little… weird to you,” she admitted.

“I certainly hope so,” he laughed, and kissed her temple. “My little sicko.”

Gallery

Sick Day, Part Two

She didn’t even know what that meant, but she was shivering a little as he took her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Guilt, her old companion. Shame and embarrassment and feeling very small. She had been Bad. She was In Trouble.

(And yet, deep down, the little secret core of her was warm and safe and unafraid, the way only he could make her feel.)

In the bedroom, he tapped the footboard with his open hand. “Belly down, please.” She squirmed up onto it and felt him tug her t-shirt up, her panties down. She didn’t even realize she’d automatically parted her thighs until she felt him having to tug harder to get them past her knees. She could hear his little chuckle at that.

He crossed her wrists behind her back, his grip reminding her–as always–that he could easily twist them to control her if she wriggled. He touched the back of her neck, and she could feel the heat under her skin as he brushed away a stray curl. Then the bed creaked as he climbed off and left her lying there.

She lifted her chin and tried to peer back out of the corner of her eye to guess where he’d gone, but she didn’t quite dare turn around. She could almost feel his hands still on her wrists. He returned quickly, anyway, holding something she couldn’t quite make out…

“When a girl can’t be trusted to confess her symptoms honestly,” he said, “it becomes suspect whether she can be trusted to even take her own temperature. Do you know how one checks for a fever in subjects who can’t be trusted to keep their hands where they belong?”

… Wait. He wasn’t really going to–

She heard a drawer slide open and shut, and the tiny click of a plastic bottle opening. Next to her face, burning scarlet against the bedspread, she saw the little plastic tab of a disposable sterile wrapper flutter down.

Then he started pushing the thermometer into her ass.

She squealed. There was no other word for it, and she certainly didn’t feel articulate enough to express herself with words at the startling, slender penetration. He’d lubricated it–which, a detached part of her thought, probably interfered with its actual function–and it didn’t hurt, not exactly. It just felt…

Well, it felt fucking humiliating, and pretty hot.

“Now, we’re going to have to leave it there for a moment to make sure it’s got a good read,” he said, and she could hear the fucking grin in his words. She took a deep breath to tell him exactly what she thought about this disproportionate response, but just as she did, he fucking moved it. Twisted it. Made her indrawn breath burst out of her in another little squeak and made her body react, helplessly, trying to wriggle away or aside or… something. She and her body never could reason with each other.

He had his hand at the base of her neck again, tangling in her hair, pulling back and up to make her arch. Her mouth dropped open, and that was when he stuffed her damn traitorous underwear between her teeth.

She could still feel her own cooling wetness there, and taste the evidence of her lazy, blissful, disobedient morning. She’d been so relaxed and confident that she had all day that she hadn’t bothered to get herself off the whole time. If only she’d fucking known…

“Three infractions. Is that what I said, girl?” he asked, leaning in close to her ear. She had to nod, still blushing so hard her cheeks had gone past red and into white. “So. Three demerits. One in your ass. One in your mouth. I have a couple ideas for the last one. Where do you think it should go?”

She heard him pick up the vibrator he’d taken from the closet drawer. And she heard him unzip.