Winter Spanks Blog Hop - a spanking scene from Triage

Welcome to the Winter Spanks Blog Hop! I must have been rather hung-over yesterday, because I didn't realize my post was supposed to be up this morning. Ahem, and oops. Happy 2014, right? 

I was also supposed to write a short story for Winter Spanks. Hmm. Ok, I'm failing on all kinds of levels here, but I'm hoping the excerpt from Triage (Doctor Dom series Volume 1) makes up for my lack of proper rule-following.

Lisa:

“Where did we leave off?” His voice was a low murmur, the very timbre of it sending little shivers of pleasure coursing through my body. My stomach did a little flip-flop as he moved closer to me, placed a hand on my knee. I swallowed; and my legs parted slightly in invitation.

“In a cab?” he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Naughty, naughty Lisa…”

I loved the way he did that; the feel of his warm breath on my ear; the way his hand just stayed on my knee, even though my skirt had ridden up to mid-thigh. This was more subtle; he could have kissed me again, and I would have thrown myself on him in a frenzy of need; but this slower seduction was something else; it was more deliberate, more intentional.

Little of my mind was clear; I was high on the sexual arousal, riding on a wave of lust and longing, but in the small, clear bit of my mind, I was deliberating a response to his comment. I could either ignore that he’d called me a naughty girl and kiss him, or I tell him what I really wanted; I could confess that I wanted him to put me over his lap and spank me for being naughty. But, like I said, most nice guys couldn’t handle this. I decided to hint, just a little.

“Yes, I am being such a naughty girl…” I purred, placing my hand on his thigh, sliding it up his leg till my palm rested on his hard erection. From under my lashes, I tried to sneak a peek at his face; to see what his eyes revealed.

His eyes had widened slightly. Crap – had I scared him off?

***

Patrick:

So she wanted to be spanked. She’d lowered her eyes, but I didn’t think she was particularly submissive. Her cheeks were slightly flushed; I assumed she was embarrassed, but I didn’t particularly understand why she was embarrassed. Plenty of women wanted to be spanked – it certainly was neither the rarest of kinks out there, nor was it the most depraved.

Her breathing had changed almost imperceptibly; she was almost holding her breath as she waited for my reaction. But I was happy to play her game.

“Naughty girls get punished, Lisa,” I whispered in her ear; trying to look stern; suppressing my smile with difficulty when I heard her slight sigh. I put my other hand, the one that wasn’t on her knee, over her hand, effectively holding it in place over my erection.

The cab driver ruined the mood by pulling up just then in front of my house. I freed my hands, paid the guy, and we went into my house.

***

Chapter 3

Lisa:

I would have normally looked around the house in professional curiosity; but right then, I was too on fire with need; I craved the feel of him against me, and I shamelessly launched myself into his arms, pulling his head down in order to kiss him.

It had been six long months, and the feel of his length against me was so intoxicating; I was drowning in sheer pleasure. I gripped his jacket with my hands, using them to keep him close to me, not that he was trying to pull away; he was kissing me back, and his lips were soft, his tongue was insistent, and he tasted faintly like vodka and salt from the dirty martini. Arousal smouldered in me, arousal reflected in his eyes as well.

“The bedroom is upstairs,” he said, pulling away for an instant, his voice hoarse with need. I didn’t try to speak; I wasn’t sure if I could form words at that point; I simply followed him.

Again, I would have normally looked around; but in that moment, all I noticed of his bedroom was that his bed was large, and that it was neatly made. He put his hands around my waist, drawing me closer, pulling me into his body again, and I reached up and kissed him. Little waves of arousal started to threaten to overflow; my pussy was moist with need; had been moist for hours now, ever since his eyes first met mine at the lounge. Right now, I just wanted to feel his hard length in my pussy; feel him thrust into my body.

But he pulled away from me, took a deep breath. “Let me know at any time if you want this to stop,” he said quietly. Then he looked at me again, and there was cool determination in his eyes; he was transformed instantly into someone steelier, more controlled, much more intimidating.

“Naughty girls get punished, Lisa,” he said, his voice level. He hadn’t bothered raising it. I felt my pussy cream even more as I responded to the look in his eyes; to the tone of his voice.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice soft and submissive. Oh, but he got the message that I wanted to be spanked loud and clear, and he was playing along with my fantasies. Under my dress, my nipples hardened.

“You will refer to me as Dr. Anderson,” he snapped, but his eyes were twinkling now, and his lips twitched.

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I mumbled.

“Very good, Lisa,” he said, his voice approving. “Take off your dress please, and come lie down on my lap.”

He had taken off his jacket downstairs; he was wearing a white shirt, some kind of muted blue tie, and dress pants. There was deliberation in his gaze as he looked at me, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, rolling his sleeves back. I gulped, a little nervously. He was clearly preparing to spank my ass, and I didn’t know him at all.

He positioned himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and patted his lap. His lap, where his hard erection was clearly visible through his pants. I reached behind to lower the zipper on my dress; let it fall in a pool to the floor, stepping out of it, towards Patrick.

When I was younger, I had excruciating acne. It was horrible. Most doctors prescribed drugs, but my hormones weren’t to be controlled. I spent most of my early teen years feeling so ugly I turned into a shadow of my normal self.

Then, my mother had taken me shopping, one glorious day when I turned fourteen. “I’ll tell you a little secret, Lisa,” she’d told me, leaning towards me conspiratorially, like we were allies against the world, which we were. “Here’s what we’ll do,” and she had taken me to a high-end department store, and we’d spent hundreds of dollars on pretty lingerie, lingerie that transformed me; that made me feel pretty deep down inside, even if my face was covered in blotches. Hundreds of dollars we didn’t even have, probably.

The acne went away soon enough, but she’d taught me something; I acted pretty when I felt pretty, and lingerie helped me feel pretty. And so, whether I was at a client site, or just in my sweats at home, I always made it a point to wear something sexy. It helped my attitude, and today, it had made me bold enough to send a stranger a drink, and then come home with him. Now, standing in front of him, wearing a black lace panties and a corset that cinched in my waist and raised my breasts so they looked like an offering to the man in front of me, I watched the heat rise in his eyes, and yet again sent my mother silent thanks for her help, so many years ago.

His eyes took me in admiringly; I could see his cock twitch as my body came into view. “Holy fuck, Lisa,” he said. “You are a vision. All I want to do is throw you down on my bed, and take you hard…”

“Don’t damage the lingerie,” I mock-joked. The corset alone had cost a small fortune. He laughed. “I promise, the lingerie will be safe,” he said, his lips twitching.  And then, I could see him strive for control; strive to put his desire on the back-burner, so he could satisfy mine.

He patted his lap again, back in role again. “Hurry it up, Lisa, I don’t have all night” he said, his voice cool; a vivid contrast to the heat in his eyes. I hurried it up; no point annoying the guy who was going to, in a few minutes, give me an over-the-knees spanking.

I moved forward on slightly shaky legs; draped myself over his lap. He made a small growl in his throat as my hips made contact with his lap, as his erection brushed against my body; and I grinned in glee; resolving to wriggle around during my ‘punishment’ as best I could.

“I think the punishment would be more effective,” he said easily, “if your hands were restrained…” He removed his tie, as I watched him from my position on his lap, my ass in the air, waiting and ready for its chastisement.

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I muttered.

He undid his tie, laced my hands behind my back; quickly bound them together with the tie. I tested my restraints. Surprisingly effective; I would have sworn up and down to all who would listen to me that Patrick wasn’t dominant, but he was certainly playing the role with conviction.

“I think, as gorgeous as these are, these need to come off,” he said, tracing his hands over my panties. He raised my hips slightly, rolling down my panties to my knees; effectively preventing me from kicking out too much during my spanking. I grinned in his lap; this was turning out to be quite an evening.

I could hear his intake of breath as my pussy came into view. He couldn’t see much of it, my thighs were held together by the panties at my knees, but he could see glimpses, and I could feel his cock twitch in response.

“Part your legs,” he said, his voice hoarse. I complied, as best I could. Those panties were expensive too.

He noticed what I was doing, and laughed. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Let’s get these off instead, shall we?”

He slid them down right to my ankles, and I kicked them away.

“Ok, panties safe and taken care of, let’s spread those legs, Lisa,” he said, his voice firm. My pussy was creaming at his tone; I spread my legs wide; the one leg was against his flat stomach; but I stretched out the other wide.

“Good girl,” he said. I could feel his fingers at my pussy lips, and then, with no warning, he pushed two of his fingers inside of me. I arched off his lap at the intensity of the sensation; I moaned in utter abandon, as my body swirled with lust.

His other hand quickly made its way to my lower back, holding me still, as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy a few times. Every nerve ending in my pussy was on fire; my hands were clenched around his sheets as his fingers controlled me, and I moaned on his lap with longing.

He pulled his fingers out; pushed his fingers into my mouth. “Taste yourself,” he said, his voice harsh. I sucked on his fingers, closing my eyes, pretending it was his cock thrusting down my throat, pretended he was taking me for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone. I moaned again, as arousal spiralled through me.

Then the spanking started, and I had no room for thought anymore.

At first, he was gentle, the strokes falling evenly on my naked, exposed butt. He alternated cheeks, got a steady rhythm going, sliding his palm against my heated ass between the strokes. I was squirming around his lap, enjoying the feeling of his hand striking my skin; responding to the sound of his hand as it made contact; reveling in the heat that rose in my skin.

I felt myself push my ass into his hand; silently beg for more. I didn’t talk though – part of what made this erotic for me was the loss of control; I had described what I needed, but beyond that, I had no control. Either Patrick was going to get this right, or he wasn’t.

He was getting it very, very right.

As I got used to the sensation, the strokes became harder. His left hand curled around my body, holding me close to his; his right hand rained blows down on my body; spanking my ass, stroking my ass; alternating hard strokes with soft brushes, scraping the red, throbbing skin with his fingernails in a move that had me groaning with sheer lust at the pleasure-pain of it.

I could feel my ass redden; throb. He was making me jump and dance to his tune; the strokes were random, and I couldn’t tell where the next stroke was going to fall. I groaned; my pussy felt swollen and heavy, so sensitive, so much in need of his touch.

And then… a flick. A hard flick of my clit, an unexpected treat between the blows. I almost arched right off his lap in the sheer shock of it, and as his hand clamped down, pleasure flooded through me. That flick had me dance on the edge of pleasure-pain, and I wanted to dance there again.

I almost broke my rule; I almost begged. But I held firm. Patrick would determine what he did to me; I would not beg. If this was to be intensely erotic to me, I was only allowed to ask him to stop. I needed to cede control completely; my pleasure needed to be entirely in his hands.

Perhaps he sensed this, because his hand teased my pussy again, that swollen pussy that was dripping in need, but he didn’t flick my clit again, not just yet. Instead, he spanked, and now, the blows were hard, the cracks loud in the room, interspersed with my soft moans; and it was all I could do to stay quiet, to not beg for the feel of that flick on my pussy again.

I wanted so much to dance on that edge of pleasure-pain.

“Beg for it…” Patrick said, his voice level.

Holy crap, how did he know? How could he tell that I craved that flick; I craved that touch again; how could he know?

But he knew.

His hand was teasing my clitoris, soft rubs, nothing like the sharp edge of that flick, and I was so close to erupting in orgasm, but I needed that flick to send me over the edge. And he knew it, and he wouldn’t do it again, unless I begged.

I never begged. Except now.

“Patrick, please…” My voice was a moan of helpless longing.

“Please what, baby?” Damn him, he sounded amused. He was displaying flawless self-control.

“Please, do that thing again, that flick on my clitoris…” I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I said that, and I was sure my face was the colour of my ass.

“Like this, baby?” His voice wasn’t amused this time, it was quiet. And then, he flicked it again, and again, and again once more, and every muscle in my body clenched tight, and I erupted in orgasm as he shoved three fingers, hard, into my soaked pussy. The world went black for an instant; I lost the ability to see and hear; I could only feel the tremors in my vagina as my swollen pussy clutched and milked his thrusting fingers.

He kept thrusting and flicking; he didn’t stop. I moaned as my swollen, sensitive clitoris responded to him yet again, to what he was doing to me.

“I can’t,” I moaned.

“I think you can, Lisa,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. My pussy gushed in response. I could stop this anytime, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to do as I was told.

A pinch on my clitoris; short, sharp pain. I screamed in shock, and as the pain receded, pleasure came rushing in, and I erupted again in orgasm, shaking helplessly, clenching yet again against his fingers.

I just lay on his lap for a while. I needed a few seconds of recovery from the shattering release; it had been six months, and of course I’d masturbated in that time, but there was something very different about erupting in orgasm against a man’s hard body, with my hands tied behind my back.

I could feel his erection against my hip, and suddenly, I wanted to continue this moment; to kneel before this man and worship his cock.

***

Thanks for reading! That's a chapter and a half from Triage: Doctor Dom Series Volume 1, folks. (Triage has scenes of Medical Play + BDSM in it). If all goes well, Observation: Doctor Dom Series Volume 2 comes out mid-January; the writing's all done, and my editors have made suggestions that need to be incorporated, and then upload, etc. 

As a prize, I'm offering a $5 gift card from Amazon, if you comment and answer the following question - is medical play a turn on/off for you? If it is a turn-on, what in particular do you like to read? 

Check out the other participants as well!