21. Willow
21
WILLOW
M y chest tightens with each frantic beat of my heart as I walk into the staff meeting, the butt plug still inside me, a secret only I know. I feel dirty, so wrong, and yet so aroused. I can’t concentrate, my clit tingling. I shift in my seat, trying to ease the ache, but it only worsens.
I glance around the room, noticing Eleanor’s concerned look. She must sense something is off with me. I force a weak smile, hoping to reassure her, but I know my eyes betray the storm within me. My skin feels too tight, sensitive to the soft brush of my clothing. Every nerve is alive, aware of the plug, a constant reminder of Axel’s control.
The meeting drags on, and I can’t focus on a single word. I’m aware of my body, the dampness between my thighs, the heavy throbbing that demands attention. I shift again, crossing and uncrossing my legs, desperate for relief.
A text buzzes on my phone, a vibration that cuts through the tedium of the meeting. It’s from him, Axel, a simple message.
Thinking of you, doctor.
Time seems to slow around me. I know he’s thinking of me wearing the butt plug. He knows the power he holds over me. I picture his intense gaze and his hands on me.
I excuse myself, feeling flustered and unable to endure the meeting any longer. I need to be alone, touch myself, and find some release. In the bathroom, I lock the door, my heart pounding. I feel reckless, desperate for release now that my inhibitions have been splintered. I pull up my skirt, tear off my panties, and my fingers find my clit, sensitive and swollen.
It doesn’t take long, the tension coiled tight, ready to snap. My release comes fast and intense, a rush of pleasure that shatters me to pieces.
I slide down the wall, my legs weak. The tile is cool against my back, starkly contrasting my burning skin. My fingers are slick, and I wipe them on my skirt without thinking. A small whimper escapes me at the evidence of what I’ve just done.
My mind drifts to this afternoon’s schedule. I’ve already adjusted it, moving appointments around to see Axel daily. The paperwork sits on my desk, waiting for Eleanor’s signature. My official reasoning states his “rapid progress” and “need for consistent support during this critical phase of treatment.”
A knock at the door startles me. “Dr. Matthews? Are you alright?” It’s Dr. Pierce.
“Yes, just... just a moment.” I scramble to my feet, smoothing my skirt. “Just feeling a bit under the weather.”
“The meeting’s over. Would you like to discuss your patient load? I noticed some significant changes.”
My heart skips. I wash my hands, taking deep breaths to steady myself. How can I explain this? What will they think when they see him on my schedule every day? The other doctors will talk. They’ll wonder. They’ll question my motives.
But I can’t stop. I need this. Need Axel. The thought of seeing him daily makes my pulse race again.
I open the door. “Of course, Eleanor. Let’s discuss it.”
My legs are still weak as I follow her down the hall, the plug a constant reminder of what’s to come. Each step reminds me of my choices and my descent into depravity. I notice Eleanor glancing back at me with concern, and I quickly straighten my posture, hiding any sign of discomfort.
“Are you feeling alright, Willow? You’ve been... distant lately,” Eleanor says as we walk. “I thought perhaps we could grab dinner after work? Like we used to during your first week?”
The invitation catches me off guard. There was a time when I would have jumped at the chance to spend more time with my mentor to absorb her wisdom and experience. Sitting across from her, making small talk while carrying these secrets, makes my stomach turn.
“I’ve been swamped with work,” I offer weakly. “Maybe another time?”
Eleanor’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s what you said last week. And the week before.”
I follow Eleanor into her office, my heart racing as she closes the door behind us. She settles into her chair, my schedule request spread across her desk.
“These are quite significant adjustments, Willow. Daily sessions with Morrison?”
I smooth my skirt, willing my voice to stay steady. “His case is... complex. I’ve noticed breakthroughs in our sessions that warrant closer attention.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrow. “What kind of breakthroughs?”
“He’s opening up about his childhood trauma. The abuse he suffered.” I lean forward, channeling my professional demeanor despite the plug’s constant reminder of my lies. “I think daily sessions could help maintain this momentum. He’s showing vulnerability for the first time.”
“Vulnerability can be manipulation, Willow. You know this.”
“Of course.” I nod, gripping the arms of my chair. “But I’ve reviewed his previous files. No other therapist has gotten him to discuss his father’s death in such detail. He’s processing guilt, showing signs of genuine remorse.”
Eleanor taps her pen against the desk. “And you’re certain you can handle such intensive sessions? It’s a heavy emotional load.”
“I am.” The words come out firm. “I’ve built rapport with him. Changing therapists now could undo the progress.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to meet her gaze. Finally, she signs the paperwork.
“I trust your judgment, Willow. But remember what we discussed about maintaining boundaries.”
“Thank you, Eleanor. I won’t let you down.”
The irony of her words makes my stomach clench, but I keep my face neutral as I gather the approved schedule changes.
“Willow,” Eleanor says as I reach for the door. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been joining us for lunch anymore. The staff has been asking about you.”
Guilt twists inside me. These people welcomed and supported me, and now I’m betraying everything they stand for.
“I’ve just been... focused on my cases,” I reply, unable to meet her eyes.
“We’re worried about you,” Eleanor continues, her voice softening. Working with these inmates, especially ones like Morrison can take a toll. You need a support system.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, perhaps too quickly. “Really.”
“Remember when we talked about compartmentalizing?” Eleanor stands, moving toward me. “About not letting this work consume you? I’ve seen promising therapists burn out because they couldn’t maintain that separation.”
If only she knew how completely those compartments had collapsed.
“I appreciate your concern,” I say, my hand on the doorknob. “But I need to prepare for my next session.”
Eleanor reaches out, touching my arm lightly. “Come join us for drinks on Friday? The whole medical team is going. It would be good for you to connect with colleagues outside these walls.”
Two months ago, I would have eagerly accepted. Now, pretending to be the person they think I am—the dedicated professional with a bright future—feels impossible.
“I’ll try,” I lie, knowing I won’t.
Eleanor’s hand falls away, disappointment clear in her eyes. “My door is always open, Willow. For anything.”
I nod and slip out, guilt and relief battling as I hurry back to my office. Each step puts more distance between Eleanor’s genuine concern and the person I’m becoming—someone who would risk everything for the forbidden thrill of what awaits me behind my office door.
As I sit at my desk, I’m restless and nervous. I organize my notes, straighten papers, and do anything to distract myself. But my eyes keep glancing at the clock.
Twenty-five minutes.
The wait is agonizing, each minute an eternity. My skin feels like it’s been set alight—electrified, and I’m aware of the plug’s presence with every movement. I shift in my seat, the pressure building.
My phone buzzes with a text from Axel, and I know without looking that it will push me further from the person Eleanor thinks I am into the abyss I’ve chosen.
Can’t wait to stretch that tight little hole, doctor. Been thinking about it all day.
I drop my phone, my cheeks flaming. I know I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is a rush of need. I want him, crave his touch, his dominance.
I bite my lip, scanning the room, ensuring no one will interrupt us. I’m nervous but determined. I check the clock again, counting the minutes until I fully surrender to what I’ve become.
Ten minutes.
I force myself back into my chair and open patient files on my computer. The screen blurs before my eyes—I can’t focus on a single word. My body throbs with anticipation, the plug a constant reminder of what’s to come.
I click through reports mindlessly, not registering anything. My mouth goes dry as footsteps echo down the hallway. The familiar rhythm of boots against linoleum makes my heart race.
A knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call out.
Officer Martinez leads Axel in, and my thoughts scatter instantly.
Axel’s eyes lock onto mine, dark with promise. His hands hang loose at his sides—no restraints. Martinez gives me a knowing look that makes my cheeks burn. The guard has been paid well, I realize. And Axel knows I want this just as much as he does.
“All set, Dr. Matthews?” Martinez asks.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The door clicks shut behind Martinez, leaving me alone with Axel. The sound echoes in my ears like a death knell—or perhaps a liberation.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind: Eleanor might start dropping by unannounced after our conversation today to check on me. Her intuition about my schedule changes was unnervingly accurate. But I dismiss the concern; the risk only heightens the thrill.
Axel approaches my desk, and I stand, feeling his presence like an electric current in the air. I’m trapped between the desk and his hard, muscular body. His gaze is intense and hungry, sending shivers down my spine.
“Been thinking about you, little doctor,” he murmurs, a low rumble reverberating through me. “I hope you’ve been a good girl and followed my instructions.”
My throat goes dry as I nod, unable to speak. I’m painfully aware of the plug inside me, the secret that binds us together now.
His eyes darken, glittering dangerously. “Did you touch yourself this morning, thinking about me?”
I swallow hard. “No.” It’s a lie, and we both know it.
He steps closer, one hand resting on the desk, his body looming over me. “Liar,” he murmurs. “You’ve been a very naughty girl.”
My heart hammers in my chest, my body thrumming. I can’t deny it anymore. “Yes,” I reply.
“Mmm, that’s better.” He reaches out, his fingers curling around my neck, holding me gently but firmly in place. “Did you like it? Did you imagine it was me touching you, fucking you senseless?”
I feel the truth in his words. I want him—all of him. “Yes,” I admit, my voice hoarse.
His eyes spark with satisfaction. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Dreaming about making your tight little asshole mine.”
His hand tightens on my neck, his thumb caressing my pulse point. “But first, I need to check if you’ve been a good little slut and followed my instructions properly.”
He yanks me roughly to my feet, his hand like a vise on my arm. My heart lurches as he spins me around, pushing me down over my desk. My palms flatten against the cool wood, and I feel vulnerable. I shut my eyes as he tugs my skirt up, baring my most private places.
His hands skim my thighs, sending shivers through me. He growls when he spots the handle of the butt plug peeking out from between my cheeks. With one swift motion, he pulls my panties down, leaving me bare and achingly aware of his presence.
His fingers wrap around the plug’s base, and he slowly pulls it out, stretching me. I bite my lip to stifle a moan as the largest part slips out, the sensation intense. It pops free, and he grunts in satisfaction.
“Did you bring the lube, doctor?” His voice is hoarse, filled with need.
I nod, unable to speak. “T-Top drawer.”
His fingers slide into the drawer, and I hear the squeak of the bottle. He rubs a slick finger between my cheeks, adding more lube, his touch firm and deliberate.
I’m burning with need, my whole body conscious of his nearness. Being so powerless against this man both terrifies me and unleashes something within me.
“You like this, don’t you?” His hot breath ghosts over my ear, making me squirm.
“N-No,” I lie, even as my pussy is soaking wet and desperate for him.
He chuckles darkly, his finger teasing my sensitive rim. “Your body tells a different story.”
“Axel, please...” I whisper, not even knowing what I’m asking for.
His free hand grips my hip, holding me firmly in place. I can feel his hardness against my thigh, making my need grow. His fingers continue to tease me, slipping inside just enough to make me ache for more. I rock my hips back, seeking relief, but he holds me firm.
I shut my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The right thing to do is to pull away and assert my authority, but something about this man breaks down every wall I’ve built, freeing caged parts of me.
With a low groan, he suddenly thrusts two fingers inside me, making me cry out. “You’re so fucking tight, Willow,” he grunts.
My head falls forward, resting on my folded arms. I surrender to his touch, to the pleasure he controls. He pumps his fingers slowly, stretching me, filling me in a way I’ve never felt before. I feel full, exposed, vulnerable, and yet so wonderfully alive.
I whimper, my body responding to his rhythm. I can’t think, can’t do anything but feel. My arousal drips down my thigh, and I know I’m close to the edge.
“Come for me,” he whispers. “Come with my fingers in your ass, and I’ll give you more.”
Axel’s fingers move inside me with practiced precision, knowing how to drive me wild. I try to stifle my whimpers, but it’s futile. My body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.
“That’s it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Let go.”
His other hand moves to my clit, his thumb teasing me, sending sparks through my body. I surrender to the sensation, my inhibitions gone. His fingers curl and press, stroking me in time with his thrusts. I’m helpless to do anything but feel.
My orgasm hits me like a storm, a release so intense it steals my breath. Waves of pleasure ripple through me. I cry out, my voice echoing off the office walls. Axel chuckles, his fingers never stopping, pulling every sensation from my body.
Gradually, my trembling eases, and Axel slowly withdraws his fingers. I feel empty, sensitive, raw, and exposed. His touch has left me boneless, and I rest my forehead on my arms, trying to regain my bearings.
Then, the rustle of clothing.
I turn my head as Axel pulls out his huge cock, his body obscuring the faint light of the window. He stands behind me, his hard cock pressing against me. I know what’s coming, and my pulse quickens.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs. “Want to feel you tight around my cock, Willow.”
I bite my lip, anticipation and nervousness warring within me. I’ve never done this before, but I crave it, crave him. My body is still sensitive from my orgasm, making me aware of every sensation.
He squeezes more lube into his hand, his slick fingers caressing my skin, teasing my rim again. I suppress a shiver, my skin tingling with anticipation. His touches are light and methodical, and I feel myself relaxing, opening up to him.
His free hand presses against my lower back, guiding me to arch my body slightly. “Relax, doctor. Breathe,” he commands softly.
I try to obey, drawing slow, steady breaths. Axel’s fingers open me up, preparing me for what’s to come. I feel his hardness against me, his lust matching my own.
He positions himself at my entrance and, with a steady hand, slowly pushes inside. The intrusion makes me gasp, my body stretched to its limits. His length fills me, inch by inch, taking his time, ensuring I adjust.
It’s intense, an all consuming sensation. I stifle a moan, biting my lip hard. I feel myself stretching; the burn is so delicious, the intensity driving me to the edge until all I want is more. I need more.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Axel hisses, his hands gripping my hips as he slowly eases in. “Let me hear you, Willow. I love it when you can’t hold back those sounds.”
The pleasure and the thrill of danger drive me wild. I nod, still adjusting to his thickness, knowing my cries will echo in the room just like last time—another reckless indulgence we can’t seem to resist.
He pauses, fully sheathed inside me, giving me a moment to acclimate. I can feel his heartbeat against my back.
“You ready?”
I want to nod, to beg him to move, but I hold myself still. This moment, tension, and anticipation are all part of the pleasure.
He begins to move, his hips slowly withdrawing, then thrusting forward with controlled power. I gasp at the sensation, the fullness, the exquisite drag of his shaft against my ass’s walls.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, his voice raw. “You feel so damn good, Willow.”
I shut my eyes, surrendering to every sensation, to his dominance. He sets a steady rhythm, his hips moving with purpose, his shaft plunging deep. My body moves with his, our rhythm growing in sync as he fucks me into the desk.
My skin is flushed and slick with sweat, and I feel unbelievably aroused. My fingers grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white with the force of my grip as I hold on through the escalating pleasure. My body craves more, every thrust sending waves of delight ripping through me.
Axel’s hand finds mine, his fingers threading through mine as he continues to thrust, his pace quickening. “You like this?” he asks.
I can’t speak, my breath stolen by the pleasure of his thick cock moving inside me. I feel full, complete, and consumed by the rawness of the act.
“Harder,” I plead, the word escaping my lips unbidden.
“Greedy girl, let’s see how much you can take, hmm?” His voice is dark and promising. He takes my hand and places it on the desk. His hand covers mine, and his fingers tighten around my wrist. It’s a silent command to stay still.
Then he snaps his hips, thrusting into me with force. I cry out, my voice muffled against the desk. He fills me so deeply, claiming me with his body, taking what he wants.
Again and again, he pounds into me fiercely. I feel helpless, pinned with my wrists behind my back and captured in one of his hands, at his mercy. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through me, a symphony of pain and bliss unlike any I’ve experienced before.
My free hand grips the desk, my knuckles white with the force of my hold. The solid wood digs into my hips, each impact a delicious torment. My skin glistens with sweat, the air thick with the scent of our passion.
Axel’s grip on my wrist tightens as he drives into me with unrelenting force. His body is taut with tension. “Look at you, taking it so well, Willow,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear. “You love it, don’t you?”
When I don’t respond, he pulls my hair back, exposing my neck, his teeth grazing my sensitive skin. “Tell me how much you love it.”
His hips keep moving, each thrust harder than the last, claiming my body as his. I’m consumed by the sensations he invokes, unable to form a coherent thought.
I hesitate, feeling the weight of my own admission. Axel’s hand tightens on my wrist, a powerful reminder of our connection.
“Don’t fucking hold back,” he growls. “Tell me how much you love it while I fuck your perfect ass.”
The thrill of submitting to a dominant partner is profoundly intense.
“Please...” I beg.
Axel’s gaze burns into mine as I glance at him over my shoulder. “Give voice to what your body is begging for.”
I suck in a breath, knowing I’m on the edge of the abyss. “I love how you make me feel.”
“No more hiding,” he demands, his breath coming in harsh pants. “I need to hear you embrace this.”
My eyes squeeze shut as I surrender to the moment. “I love your cock inside me.” The admission breaks something open within me, my body rocking back to meet his thrusts. “I love it—fuck me harder.”
He obliges, his grip on my wrist tightening as he pounds into me with unrestrained need. It’s raw and animalistic, each thrust driving me deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The slapping of skin echoes in the room like an erotic percussion.
“That’s it, baby,” Axel groans, and he sounds surprised, maybe even a little proud. I feel his fingers dig into my wrist, his hips moving with fierce determination. “You belong to me, don’t you? Such a good girl.”
My body is on fire, and my inhibitions are shattered. “Yes, I’m yours,” I moan, surprising myself.
My declaration seems to push him over the edge. He swears, his fingers tightening almost to the point of pain, so much so that it’s sure to leave bruises—bruises I don’t know how to explain. His thrusts become erratic, his body tense like a coiled spring. I know he’s close, and the realization sends me spiraling toward my own climax. I feel his fingers make contact with my clit, and I lose it.
“Come for me, baby,” he groans, his mouth close to my ear. “Let me feel that tight little hole squeezing my dick.”
My orgasm tears through me with such force, my muscles contracting around his shaft. Axel follows, his strong body tensing with the force of his release as he empties himself into me.
We stay like that momentarily, our bodies connected. Eventually, Axel slips out of my ass, and I feel a rush of cool air against my oversensitive skin.
He spins me around, his eyes dark with obsession but also something softer—almost vulnerable. He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me before I can speak.
“Shh, Doctor,” he murmurs. “Words aren’t needed right now.”
And then, before I can process what’s happening, he leans in and kisses me. It’s a deep, possessive kiss, claiming my mouth with the same fervor he’d claimed my body.
My lips part, our tongues tangling in a dance that mirrors our bodies’ rhythm. My arms find their way around his neck, my fingers threading into his hair, and I hold him close.
Axel’s kiss is both tender and hungry. His arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against his powerful frame. I feel a shudder pass through him, and I sense that something has shifted beyond our intense physical connection.
When he finally pulls away, his eyes search mine, a vulnerability there I’ve never seen before. I reach up, my fingers brushing his cheek, and he captures my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.
I feel a warmth in my chest, a sense of connection beyond our illicit affair. Axel’s eyes reflect a similar depth of emotion, an unspoken understanding passing between us.
But then, something flickers in his expression—not coldness, but fear. I recognize it immediately: the terror of someone unused to feeling anything genuine, anything that might make him vulnerable.
“Get dressed,” he says, his tone clipped but with an undercurrent of something else—perhaps confusion or discomfort with the intimacy we just shared. “I’ll see you at our next session.”
I quickly gather my clothes, pulling them on with trembling hands while Axel does the same. He moves to the door and gives Martinez three sharp knocks—a prearranged signal.
“Axel,” I call softly, but it’s too late. The door opens, and Martinez appears, refastening the cuffs around Axel’s wrists before I can say more.
As Martinez leads him away, I stand there fully dressed but somehow still feeling exposed, the plug and lube still visible on my desk. I hastily tuck them into a drawer as the reality of what just happened comes crashing down. My life will never be the same again. Neither, perhaps, will his, though he’s clearly not ready to admit it.