Page 22 of M.M. Scrooge
The stinging scent of alcohol burns my nostrils. I scrunch my nose. Where am I? What is this place?
“Relax, Max. I’ll take it easy on you.” Tristan steps into view. He’s wearing a crisp white coat, and the stethoscope I imagined earlier hangs around his neck. His glinting smile and predatory gaze give me chills. “You might even find you like it.”
Something tells me he’s wrong about that.
I’m in a doctor’s office, an examination room, maybe. Or a surgery? I’m not sure. Six enormous domed lights dangle overhead, unlit. Stacks of machines and monitors on rolling tables surround me, everything gun-metal gray, periwinkle blue, and sterile white.
I flex my bare feet. My toes are cold. My everything is cold. I need to get off this damned table. Now. I flail to life, scoot away from Tristan, and search for a door.
Four white walls. No windows. No doors.
Why aren’t there any doors? I’ve never been in a room with no doors.
“Stay still,” Tristan orders. He turns his back to me and runs his gloved hand over an array of instruments spread upon a second, smaller table.
There’s no escape. Fear coils in my gut.
“Lie back.” Tristan rolls a little stool over to my side and sits. “Bring your ass to the edge of the table and spread your legs.”
“What?” I gape at him. I’m not doing that.
He fiddles with the table I’m trapped on, bringing stirrups up from beneath it.
No, no, no, no, no.I bend my knees, tucking my legs up to my chest. “No fucking way, dude.”
His brows arch. “Come now, Max. You enjoyed having me vulnerable. It’s time to return the favor. Trust me.”
Fat chance. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. What you did to me was worse. You meddled in my friendships, isolated me, then abandoned me for someone else. All I intend to do is play with your dick.” He pats the table impatiently. “Ass to the edge and spread your legs. Don’t make me ask a third time.”
My dick is thoroughly uninterested in his offer, curled soft between my legs, and doing its best to hide against my ball sac. I’ve never had a medical kink. The opposite, in fact. Doctors have always kind of scared me ever since an inexperienced nurse ruptured my eardrum during a routine checkup when I was small. An accident, but I never really got over it.
“Ma-ax.” Tristan draws out my name so it’s somehow two syllables. “Here, Max. I won’t bite. Let’s have some fun.”
Can he force my body around like Caleb did? Please, god, no. That was truly terrifying. No one gets to take charge of my body but me.
I have two choices. Continue to resist and risk losing control over myself again, or do what he says. But those stirrups…I don’t want anything to do with them.
I force a hard exhale through my nose and inch my way to the table’s edge. Is this what women go through every year? Because it sucks.
“Farther,” Tristan says. “And wider. Come now. Don’t be shy. I’ve seen it all before. Yours and hundreds of men’s.”
That’s a visual I didn’t need. “What are you going to do to me?” With any luck, he just wants me to bottom. While it’s not my favorite position, it’s not exactly a big deal either. Tristan’s cock is a nice size, not huge. Even without any prep, he’s unlikely to injure me.
I’ll be fine.
This is fine.
I’m fine.
“A little more.” He rolls his stool between my legs, takes my right ankle in hand, and places my foot in the stirrup.
I gulp down my anxiety.
“There now, one more. Come on.” He’s got my other ankle, but I can’t help resisting. I don’t want my legs spread this wide. It’s weird. Too much is exposed. I’m embarrassed. “Come on, Max, it’s just me. I’ve got you. You look lovely like this.”
Heat creeps up my neck at the praise, but his words make obeying easier, if only a little. Enough to rest my other ankle in the second stirrup. The chill of the room infiltrates my most private parts.
