He lifts my shirt and fondles my balls lightly, gently tugging them away from my body. He stretches them just enough that he can get the strap on, pinching a little but not quite as much as I’d like. His knuckles dust the underside of my dick as he does it, a light, barely-there touch that makes me ooze with pleasure.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the syringe once my balls are snuggly restrained.
He picks up the syringe and the lube, uncapping it and slotting the syringe into it. “It’s called a lube shooter. Look, you fill it up with lube like this.” He drops the lube back onto the table and holds the syringe up, eyes glinting, thumb cocked on the plunger, looking every inch the hot, pervy doctor of my dreams. My mouth pools with saliva. “Now, turn around, baby, and I’ll show you where it goes.”
Oof.
God.
I bend over the table again, knees wobbly, but for a totally different reason this time. I part my legs as wide as I can, tilting my hips up and out, sucking in a quick breath as the movement gives me a no-nonsense reminder of the run-in I just had with the cane.
“Oooh,” I say as the syringe slides into my ass. It’s slippery and smooth. Foreign and hard. Narrow enough to secure entry even if I were to clench hard. Stuart slides it out a little and then probes it in even deeper.
“How does that feel?”
“Uh, not nice, Daddy,” I lie.
I’m not lying a little. I’m lying big time. I live for this shit. Seriously, I eat it up. It’s every one of about a million fantasies I’ve had about a dirty doctor brandishing a rectal thermometer come to life, and then some.
“Well,” he says as he slowly depresses the plunger, shooting icy lubricant deep into my anal cavity, “you’re being a very good boy to keep still and take it even though it’s uncomfortable.”
I feel more than a little regret when he removes the syringe, but I buoy measurably when I hear the familiar clank of his belt and fly coming undone. A trickle of lube spills out of me, dribbling slowly down my taint. Stuart scoops it up with the head of his dick, rubbing it over my hole once or twice before notching himself into me and thrusting.
“Just relax, baby. This will only hurt a bit.”
I moan like it’s the end of the world. Like black holes are forming and planets are colliding. My ass clenches and struggles. Stretching and aching as Stuart claims me. He starts thrusting as soon as he’s inside me. Hard. Fast. Not slow and gentle like usual. He holds my hips and drives himself into me. Punishing me. Using me. Teaching me.
The pain is exquisite. Masterful in its intensity. The pleasure is better. Bigger. Deeper. Harder than anything I’ve felt before. His thick, fat cock plunges in and out of me, squelching obscenely with each thrust. The pressure is unreal. It’s heavy. It’s everywhere. It heats my body and sets me on fire. My balls struggle against their restraints, swelling and trying in vain to get closer to me. Fists clench. Teeth grind.
My orgasm is so close it knows my name. It whispers it softly at first and then louder and louder.
“Pleasecome, Daddy,” I wail in a panic. “Please come.Please come!”
Thank God, that pushes him over the edge. His dick thickens, pulsing once and then shooting a piping hot load into my guts. He shudders and roars, fingers digging into my skin as he forces his seed deeper and deeper inside me.
I collapse onto the desk the second he pulls out. Shaking so much that I can’t speak. Stuart puts a heavy hand on my back. Tears start to flow the second I feel it. He lifts me and turns me around, wrapping me tightly in his arms.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I sob. “Thank you,thank you.”
Tears fall in sheets. Hot, messy streaks run down my face and splash onto Stuart’s nice shirt. I cry and cry. Not cute crying. Not a sexy little sniffle and a handful of tears. I bawl. I cry because my ass is hurting like a bitch, and I want to come more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I cry because, by some miracle, Stuart knows exactly what I need and gives it to me. I cry because I’ve never felt understood before, and goddammit, it feels so fucking good. I cry because I’m scared of a world without Stuart, and yeah, I cry a little because I know I love him, and he doesn’t feel the same way. But mostly, I cry because I’ve never been this happy before.
When I’ve managed to calm down to the point where I’m just hiccupping and spluttering, not sobbing and choking, Stuart leads me down the hall to the living room. As we pass the mirror at the entrance, he says, “Want to see?”
Oh. He’s not perfect, after all. He’s whatever comes after perfect.
Whatever’s more perfect than perfect—that’s Stuart.
I start crying again. Just a little. This time I cry because no one else in the world gets this kind of shit about me, and I never even knew how to put into words what it is, but somehow, I’ve managed to find it.
Do bears shit in the woods?
Of courseI want to see what my freshly caned ass looks like.
He puts my arms around his neck, my back toward the mirror, and lifts my shirt carefully. I crane my head back to see. My inner thighs are shiny and slick, hole dripping with cum and an excess of lube. My cheeks each have a neat blush of color on them. Two little swatches made up of six fine, pale-pink welts.
“That’s it?” I wail in disbelief. He smiles at my reflection and laughs softly. “Seriously? That’s all? It feels like they should be purple and blue, and, and blood red and swollen!”
“Well, I can always hit harder next time,” he offers helpfully. As always, he’s a man who focuses on solutions, not problems.
