Page 86 of Dr. Fellow

I let out a moan, feeling my core clench with needy arousal as I wondered what the purpose of the rope was. It didn’t take long to figure it out though, because as soon as he tugged on it to raise my arms higher, an intense pain burst through my nipples.

He held the rope taught while he teased my body to the edge of orgasm. Eventually, he slid his fingers from my pussy to my ass and pushed one into the tight hole as he continued to torment me until I was begging for more.

In a quick exchange, he replaced his thick finger with something cold and metal around the same size. He let whatever he had just inserted sit comfortably inside me, murmuring praises at how well I was taking it. At first, I thought he had put a small plug in my ass, preparing me for some back door fun later on, but then the metal started to pull at my hips, like I was being lifted in the air.

I tried to turn and see what was happening, but Walker spanked me hard in correction. The movement pushed the device further inside my back entrance, shooting ripples of desire through me despite the unusual sensation.

I shifted on my feet, trying to lower my arms from their strained position and alleviate the ache in my nipples. But as soon as relief came, an intense tension coming from the metal inside my ass demanded my attention, forcing me to return to the original position.

A whimper came out of my mouth at the realization that I was stuck—the hook in my ass was connected to the clamps on my nipples. I needed to find my balance or one end of my body would be stuck in erotic hell.

As Walker worked to tie the contraption off, he leaned in again and asked if I was ready for the punishment. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, nor could I really concentrate because all of my attention was focused on staying as still as possible to keep the tension in equilibrium.

But then he lowered to a squat behind me, nipped at my inner thigh, and had me lift my heels off the ground so that I was standing halfway between my tip-toes and the floor. Once satisfied, he trailed his fingers up the backs of my legs and instructed me not to drop down to the ground. He made another quick adjustment to the rope before he stepped back and ordered me to face him.

Instinctively, my heels dropped to the ground as I pivoted in his direction. The shift caused the ache in my nipples to transform into a spasm of pain, and I spewed a stream of curse words at him. I quickly righted my position, standing as tall as I could on the balls of my feet to ease the pull on both ends of the rope.

I shot Walker a dirty look through the wisps of hair that had fallen over my eyes, hoping he knew what I thought of this particular punishment. The predicament of the rope between my ass and clamps was incredibly arousing because I had to find a balance, or risk delicious pain. But the addition of the stress position was almost cruel and left me wondering how long I could last.

He watched me struggle for a moment before he reminded me of my safeword and turned on his heel to walk away. Lounging back in his chair, he turned on the lamp at the corner of the desk and schooled his focus to his work.

I could feel the arousal dripping down my leg as I shifted, trying to get comfortable as my calves grew tired. Who knew kink could be such a workout?

When Walker finally checks in, he seems pleased. He closes his book and stacks items on his desk with deliberate slowness. I feel my body relax despite the tension in my legs, knowing that he’s had enough punishment and is ready to finish our play.

Standing from his desk, he crosses the small room. He stops inches from my face, his body towering over me with pure dominance. My eyes drop to his dark jeans, noticing the distinctive bulge between his legs that tells me he’s just as into this as I am.

He reaches out to redirect my attention, his rugged, heady scent washing over me as he brushes my sweaty hair from my face.“Are you ready to continue?”

I close my eyes and lean into his touch, wanting to feel more of him. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

My core clenches with his words, surprised by how much I like the praise when normally his filthy degradation gets me off. But this scene isn’t about rough sex or name calling, it’s about freely given submission—it’s about experimenting together, pleasing each other, and finding mutual enjoyment from a new dynamic.

Walker drops his hand from my face and moves it to the slick area between my legs. He easily slides his fingers through my pussy and slips two inside of me, resting them against my inner wall. I adjust my feet, hoping for some additional friction, but the slight movement shifts the strain of the rope on the hook and forces a whimper from my lips.

“I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, trying its hardest to come for me,” he says quietly, breath hot against my ear. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”

His thumb grazes my clit and a shudder of arousal pulses through my core from the slight touch.

“Yes, Sir. I want to come, Sir.”

A deep growl of satisfaction rolls through his throat. “I’ll tell you what. You let me play with you a little longer, and I’ll let you come. How does that sound?”

I swallow harshly, not sure how much more playing I can take. “Good, Sir.”

Walker steps back, slipping his fingers out of me so abruptly that I have to focus on keeping my body steady, and not the empty ache from the loss of his touch. He moves out of my view without another word, leaving me wondering how long he’ll keep me strung up and needy.

God, I hope it’s not long.

A moment later, he returns with a black riding crop and stops in front of me. Other than spanking me with his palm occasionally during sex—something I definitely enjoy—we haven’t explored any other impact play. I draw my eyes over the instrument, noticing the triangular tip at the end.

He caresses the metal length of the crop with his hand, his biceps practically bulging out of his fitted T-shirt. Holding his palm out, he smacks the tip against his skin a few times. The sound of the crop as it swooshes through the air is intimidating, but with each blow, he doesn’t even flinch.

If I had to guess, I’d assume he has a high pain tolerance given the ink smattering his left arm, but the sting can’t be that bad if he doesn’t react atall . . . right?

Desire races through me as he touches the leather tip of the crop to the base of my neck, dragging it along my collarbone. He presses it into my skin, flattening the head against my shoulder and rubbing it down my arm in a gentle caress. Repeating the process on my other side, I feel myself arching into it, like the toy is an extension of him in some way.

---