“Shh, it’ll be better when you’ve lubricated,” he murmured, moving one hand to press her thigh back up on the sofa’s backrest. “You’re starting to flush nicely. Just relax. We’ll get you there.”
Selma forced a deep breath as she stared at the white ceiling, trying and failing to ignore his insistent stroking of her sex. He wasn’t touching her clit, but on every upstroke, he manipulated her inner lips just enough that her flesh tensed around the sensitive bud, stimulating it ever so slightly. It didn’t take long before, despite herself, heat began to collect between her legs and a soft, pleasant throb stirred in her abdomen.
“Good girl,” Marathin cooed when she inadvertently lifted her hips on another upstroke. “Very good.” And then, before she could fully comprehend what he was doing, he’d popped his thumb in his mouth, wetting the pad before he pressed it directly at her still-hooded clit.
The zing of sensation was sharp and made her grunt, but it was far from unpleasant—which made it so much worse. She bit her lip hard and tried to shift her pelvis to lessen the stimulation, but he wasn’t having it. He followed her movements with his thumb pressed hard against her little nub, rubbing in circles as he caught her hips with his other arm and grounded her to the couch.
“Easy now. Easy.” His dark voice was huskier than before, which did little to calm the throb of her blood pulsing heavily in her tissue. “Give in to the pleasure, sweetheart. The more fully you surrender, the quicker it’ll be over.”
He had a point. The sooner he could get her body to respond enough that he could slip the ring on her, the sooner she would be free.
It took everything Selma had to relax her thighs and reopen her legs fully for him.
“That’s it, well done,” Dr. Hershey said, shifting so he could maneuver more easily. He brought the hand that’d been keeping her leg on the backrest down to her sex, wetting his thumb in dampness she hadn’t know she was producing until he touched the hood of her clitoris.
“Let’s see if we can’t coax her out, hmm?” His low hum was followed by pressure on both sides of her clit. He rubbed up and down the tiny shaft, squeezing gently on the upstroke, just enough to set her nerves alight. Over and over he rode it, only changing it up by occasionally letting his free fingers brush along her spread lips, teasing her opening ever so lightly.
Soon she was squirming, not to escape, but to increase the pressure of his touch, her breath coming in soft pants.
“Starting to feel good?” he asked, and she could have sworn he was smirking.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Selma hoped it was a rhetorical question as a low groan made its past her clenched teeth.
Thankfully he didn’t push for an answer, nor did he comment on her body’s involuntary, but embarrassing, signs of pleasure. Instead, he doubled his efforts on her clit, pinching harder as he rubbed it up and down.
It was too much, too intense, but when she pulled back he followed her, capturing her against the end of the sofa.
“Give in, sweetheart,” he purred. “You want to feel better, don’t you? I’ll make you feel so good. Listen to your body—it knows.”
Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny the rising flood of heat in her pelvis, and despite her mewls of reluctance, soon her thighs spread wider of their own accord, inviting him in. It’d been so long since a man attended to her needs, and the doctor knew how to make her come alive as she’d never been before.
“Please,” she panted, not knowing what she was asking for. “Please!”
“I see her,” he rumbled, voice hoarse. “Starting to peek out from her protective hood. So pretty and pink, your little pearl. Begging for more, hmm?”
In a wild moment, she thought he might put his mouth on her, but her fevered thoughts were quashed as he twisted around, fingers still stroking firmly, and grabbed the metal ring in his free hand.
When he brought it back around, her eyes caught his—and something in her gut that had little to do with the pleasure he was forcing on her clenched.
There was a look in his fiery eyes then, something dark, and from deep inside a wave of fear bloomed despite her arousal.
Get away! Get away! Selma, get away!
The voice rang through her mind as clearly as if someone had shouted it into her ear. She gasped, choking on a groan when Marathin pinched her clit, forcing it fully out from the hood.
No, she had to get away! She had to escape. That voice?—
Metal gleamed between her thighs and she kicked out, but it was too late. The doctor pinned her legs with his elbows, spread her labia wide—and in the next second, the cool ring slipped over her throbbing clit.
The moment the metal hoop touched her, darkness rose around them both. Yet despite a bolt of panic, Selma quickly lost the ability to care.
Marathin twisted the band, tightening it unbearably against her sensitive nub—and Selma screamed as black stars of agony exploded before her eyes.
“Take it off!” She managed to squeal despite the pain pulsing through her with every frantic beat of her heart. Reaching down, she tried to rid herself of the torture device. “Please, please?—!”
Marathin caught her hands easily in one of his own, stilling her desperate squirming as he reached between her legs again. “Give in!” he growled, and then his hot fingertips pinched the still-free tip of her clit. “Come for me!”
It shouldn’t have worked. The pain was so severe, and her panic so overwhelming that her nerves should not have been able to feel pleasure as well. But when he pinched her trapped little bud, warmth flooded her pelvis—and from nowhere, an orgasm rose hard and fast.
