Chapter 8 #2
“You’re so good at following orders and never questioning any required testing or treatments. You understand what needs to be done and let me do my job to the best of my abilities.”
“I like being your patient, Doctor. I don’t ever have to worry about being sick too long or getting an infection.”
“You don’t. Not ever.” His fingers trail down my neck and goosebumps cover my flesh. “You’re so tense still. Tell me what else you need to relax?”
“So much pressure on my prostate that needs relieving. I can’t sit too long without feeling my hole twitch with discomfort.”
His eyes darken and he beams. “Oh, we don’t want that. I’m so happy you can be honest with me. Turn onto your belly and let me take care of it for you.”
Thrumming with anticipation, I turn around, adjusting the pillows and lowering myself in the bed.
Cool air trickles down my back as he tugs off the covers and slides a pillow under my hips.
Kneeling between my legs, his warm hands knead my cheeks and his warm tongue brushes over my seam.
I jolt, taken off guard, but then I remember the pride in his eyes when he said I accepted what needed to be done without question and I go back to holding still.
He licks and nips at my pucker, sucking on my sensitive skin. I press my ass closer to his face, accepting all my treatment, already feeling the pressure shift somewhere else.
Moaning into my hole, he darts inside me, lapping at my inner walls, and adds a finger alongside his tongue. A second is added in no time, and then a third. He plunges deeper and faster, spreading me wider, heat exploding all over my skin like wildfire.
I’m light and heavy at the same time. Both standing and flying. Sam curls his fingers against my prostate, knuckles deep, and I squirm underneath him, needing more.
“More, Doctor. I’m so close to feeling better. I just need a little more.”
Complying with my demands, he removes his fingers and lines up the tip of something harder.
It presses deeper into me, tugging my walls apart, and I constrict around the thick object.
I look back and he’s holding on to the base of a skin-colored dildo.
It goes in slowly and comes out at the same speed before he rams it back inside me fast.
I shake and tears fill my eyes from how desensitized I’ve become. “It’s . . . it’s too much.”
“Yes. And it will be. This is all part of your therapy. That part of you needs to get used to being touched more. I figured we could hit two birds with one stone. The pressure you feel goes away and your sensitivity issues lessen.”
I bite my way through another moan as he drives in and out of me. He goes from steady to fast to slow, the big silicone head brushing over every sensitive part of me.
“Rubbing the area with different textures helps reduce the alarm response to light touch. It should be done multiple times a day in order to be effective.”
“So . . . so this is number one out of what . . .”
He laughs and it’s wicked. “However many you’re able to handle before bedtime.”
More lube squirts inside me, and the dildo is able to reach more places than before. I meet its thrust, my body sent into overdrive as I come. My orgasm lasted longer today, and it’s so intense I nearly black out. I go slack against the bed, mumbling unintelligible words against the pillow.
“Better?”
“Mmm,” is all I manage to get out.
“I need a yes or no from you, sweetheart.”
“Ye-yesss.”
“Good. We’ll take a break now. I’ll get you cleaned up and you can rest until breakfast is ready.” There’s a short pause. “I guess it’ll be more like brunch,” he says with his tone lightening.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, sounding out of breath with my head spinning.
He lets out a short laugh and rubs my shoulders. “I’ll cover you up so you don’t freeze while I get a wash rag.”
“Warm water please,” I call out, and the bed lifts as he gets to his feet.
“Of course. We can make this part of your sensory therapy too. We’ll see how you do with something that has a rougher feel to it on your most sensitive areas.”
I rub my face in the pillow, spreading my limbs out on the cool sheets and dozing off for a while. A wet, warm towel sliding up and down my thighs wakes me, and my eyes shoot open.
“Taking a short nap already, I see. You’ll probably need a longer one soon. After you eat, though. We can’t have you skipping meals while you’re here. You already do that enough when you’re on your own as it is.”
He rubs the cloth over my stomach and pecs before rolling one of my nipples between the rough material. I squirm and his expression is tense as he moves to the next one. I curse under my breath, and he lets out a sigh.
“Yeah. A little better with rough items, but still too sensitive in this area.”
He plucks what looks like a handkerchief from his side coat pocket and the fabric is soft when caressing around my areolas.
As soon as the silky threads come in direct contact with my already hard nub, I shudder and a long moan pours from me.
He repeats the action on my other side, and I thrust like a fish out of water.
“Oh,” I say, grounding myself against the bed with my curled fists.
“Yeah, we’ll definitely need more work with softer items. At least in that specific area.” His gaze drops and he lick his lips as he drapes the soft fabric over my hardening cock. I pump my hips, eyes rolling back and heels digging into the mattress.
“Here too.”
His eyes fall further down my body and the cloth follows, trailing down each thigh. My reaction isn’t as strong this time, but it picks back up when he lifts my knees and slides the cloth over my taint. My outer rim gives him the same response, and so do my balls.
“There’s so much work yet to be done. We’ll have to come back to that later. I still need to finish cleaning you up and get food in that growling tummy.”
I laugh as my stomach grumbles again. “Yeah, probably a good idea. I can finish the wipe down if you want?”
“No. I should do it, so I can see if your sensitivity level to the towel is the same everywhere else.”
Setting my legs down, he parks himself between my thighs and uses another warm, wet rag from a pink square bin on the nightstand.
He wrings it out before wiping around my groin, but it still leaves several droplets behind.
Both ends are then wrapped around my shaft, and he glides it up before slowly working his way back down.
My breaths stutter and his lips purse as he turns the towel around to clean my underside. My sounds and breathing are the same. None of it changes until he’s rubbing between my ass cheeks. I’m moving from side to side, kicking out my feet while whining.
“Oh, sweetheart. The sensitivity issues are really bad there, aren’t they?” He rubs over me again and I tense, becoming a sputtering mess.
“Yeah, they are. We’ll come back to that too. I’ll have to make note of all this while you’re getting dressed so I don’t forget.”
“Do I . . . can I wear real clothes today?”
He gives me a stare. “During brunch and your nap, but I think it’ll be easier to be in the gown for the rest of the day.” He backs away, tossing the towels back in the bin. “Easier for both of us.” Both corners of his lips tilt and he climbs off the bed.
I go slack and look up at the ceiling as he rummages in one of the drawers. “These should fit you way better than my clothes. I picked them up on my way home from the grocery store yesterday.”
Turning to my side, I reach for the pair of black Adidas pants and white V-neck.
They’re my exact size. He did wash my other clothes, so he could have gotten my size from there.
They’re brand new with tickets. I know he already said that, but as I fumble with the string of the pants, I shove the ticket in the pocket.
I’ve never owned brand new name-brand clothes before.
Most of my stuff was either bought secondhand, stolen, or handed down from someone else. I stroke the label and bend my legs to slip my feet through first.
“Need help, or will you be okay here on your own?”
I get both legs all the way in okay and meet his hard gaze. “I’ll be okay. What are we eating?”
“I told you I’d keep surprising you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” I nod, slipping on the shirt next. “You did.”
“I think you’ll like it. It’s one of my favorite breakfast foods.”
“I think I will too,” I quip, tugging on the hem of my shirt.
He leaves me alone in the room and I lay back in the bed, pulling the blanket over me.
Closing my eyes, I press my cheek to the pillow, inhaling the air as the savory smell of potatoes surrounds me.
I lift my head, stretching my neck as I hear his soft humming from the kitchen.
He left the door open. I’m clearly not a prisoner here if he left the door open.
Have I been free to move all through the house whenever I wanted all this time?