Chapter 1
I bite my lip nervously as the receptionist shows me into the physical therapy room, wondering if she knows what's about to happen. Wondering if there's any judgment behind the pleasant, professional expression on her face.
"You can put your clothes here," she says, pointing at a series of hooks on the wall hanging over a cushioned bench. "Disrobe as far as you feel comfortable and then hop up on the table and put the sheet over top of you. Dr. Derrick will be with you shortly."
"Thank you," I mutter.
The room is designed to soothe, to comfort.
It's small and dimly lit, soft music is already playing, candles flickering and sending a lavender scent puffing into the air.
The massage table is at the center of the space, and along the wall are counters with all sorts of oils and tools to help with massage, and a small sink.
The receptionist shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with my nerves. I shiver as I quickly take off my clothes, my anus twitching nervously around the plug that my Master pressed into it before I left for this appointment.
I'm a submissive sexually and I've always been a submissive sexually, but it wasn't until I met my Master that I became what is basically a hotwife.
Except I've read stories and books about hotwives, talked to them on forums, and I don't quite seem to fit in.
They revel in their conquests, wouldn't want any other kind of relationship...
I do it because my Master wants me to. If he didn't, I wouldn't. I wouldn't even be tempted.
I don't get off on the idea of having sex with another man and then going home to tell my Master about it, but I do get off on doing something that I wouldn't otherwise, just because he wants me to.
Knowing that I wouldn't be here if he hadn't set this up gets me hot.
Wondering what's going to happen, what limits will be pushed this time that I will allow to be pushed for him, that gets me wet.
My Master has been easing me into this. The first time I was with another man, it was a threesome with a single, submissive man from the BDSM club we occasionally frequent and my Master directing our every move.
The second time, he had me give one of his acquaintances a blowjob while he watched, and then he sent the acquaintance home and ordered me to give him a step-by-step account of everything I'd done with my mouth and how I'd felt while I was doing it, all while he fucked me silly.
I've had sex with other men, always with him present and watching, and I've learned what he likes to hear.
What he likes me to focus on. For instance, he'll want to know that the room makes me feel antsy even though I should be soothed.
He'll want to know that I'm already wet when I get onto the massage table, that my anus is clenching around the plug over and over again, making me want to feel full in other ways.
He'll want to know that my nipples are hard as I lay down, that the little points press into the cushioned table beneath me and that I wriggle a little to enjoy the sensation of the sheet rubbing against them.
He might even spank me for that, because I'm not supposed to find sexual pleasure without his permission.
Sometimes, when I go out on these little quests, I have permission and sometimes I do not.
Today I do not have permission to come, but I already know I've been set up to fail.
He took his time with inserting the plug, using a minimal amount of lube and slowly working it back and forth into my tight little hole.
I'm a bit of a masochist, so having my anus stretched is enjoyable.
I like the burn. I like the slight discomfort of having a plug securely lodged inside me, forcing me to shift and wiggle whenever I sit down.
I was incredibly horny by the time he'd finished inserting the plug, and to add to my growing need, he'd pinched both of my nipples hard before ordering me to get dressed and sending me on my way.
Face down on the massage table, I press my legs together, stifling a whimper as a surge of need flows through me. I freeze as the door opens.
"Hello Abby," a deep voice says. "My name is Dr. Derrick. I see you're all ready for me."
There's a hint of amused anticipation in his voice, and I push myself up enough to peek at him.
He smiles down at me, an almost evil little smile that makes my heart thump and my pussy contract.
Dr. Derrick is a handsome man. He's broader in the shoulders than my Master, but his overall build is leaner.
He has shaggy blond hair that hangs down in his eyes—I can't see their color because of the dim lighting—and strong-looking hands hanging by his sides.
Dressed in slacks and a fitted shirt, he looks like a totally normal guy.
But I know that he must be someone my Master knows is into kink.
My Master vets all of my encounters thoroughly. He is a control freak, after all.
"Hello," I squeak, before dropping my face back into the little space on the massage table.
Dr. Derrick chuckles and a little shiver goes through me.
"Just relax, Abby. We're going to start with a simple massage."
Of course, referencing how we're going to start just reminds me of how we're going to finish and my body tenses up again. Will I ever be used to having sex with complete strangers at my Master's whim? They're never strangers to him, but they are to me, and that's how he likes it.
But then Dr. Derrick puts his hands on my shoulders, his palms slick with hot oil, and he presses. I moan as he seems to immediately find the worst points of tension in my shoulders and begins to work them apart.
"Is this too much pressure?" he asks, his voice low and almost blending in with the gentle music that's playing.
"No, that's perfect," I mumble in reply, as he pushes away the knots.
I moan again, unwinding further as he digs into the center of my back, in between my shoulder blades, seeking and finding all the problem spots I didn't even know I had.
His hands move from my back to my arms, taking the time to stretch the muscles of each of my fingers, before moving to my legs.
Down the backs of my thighs and calves to my feet.
By the time he whispers to me to turn over, I’m feeling almost boneless and I’ve almost forgotten that I’m not here for a regular physical therapy appointment, forgotten that I should be cataloging everything for my Master, right up until I turn over and the plug in my ass presses inward, making me gasp as the discomfort and pleasure shoot through my body.
Derrick chuckles, as if he knows what just happened, but then his hands press my shoulders down. "Down, Abby." His voice is commanding and dominant, and I obey immediately. "Relax."
It’s easier this time, since my arms and legs already feel like limp noodles.
He massages my shoulders from this position, the sheet firmly in place over my breasts, my arms tucking it down by my sides.
His fingers play over my neck, my throat, and my face.
Despite the fact that I was relaxing, now that I have the plug pressing up into me, it’s like my sexual awareness has flicked back on.
The play of his fingers feels almost sensual, although it doesn’t become erotic until they sweep down my face and to my upper chest, slowly moving to my breasts.
My nipples perk up, pressing against the sheet as my breasts swell in anticipation, while his fingers moved closer and closer.
I gasp when he suddenly slides his hands beneath the sheet and cups them.
My pussy spasms. In some ways, I think my brain is still a little shocked at the proof that this isn't a regular appointment, even though Dr. Derrick isn’t my regular physical therapist.