In the first installment, med student Clarissa found herself under the thumb--in more ways than one!--of an older male doctor. This episode continues her adventures. Probably a good idea to read Part 1 first; that's the set-up.
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Michael paused as he picked me up. "Grab the booze, honey, would you?"
Michael carried me down the short hall to my bedroom and dumped me on my bed. It was a single bed. That wasn't lost on Michael. He chuckled. "That answers that," he said.
"Huh?" I said, still a bit dazed. I realized I was clutching the liquor bottle to my chest like a life preserver.
Michael peeled off his clothing, making a careless, crumpled heap on the floor. He sat down beside me on the bed and gently pried the bottle from my hands, putting it down on my nightstand. "You obviously don't have a boyfriend. Not with this bed. Not that it would've mattered. 'Cause you'd have to send him right down the road, you know. I don't do sloppy seconds. Now take off your sweater. Bra, too."
He was right; I was undoubtedly single. I'd never exactly been a guy magnet, and besides, medical school has a funny way of cutting into your quality dating time. I found it both annoying and arousing that Michael Hanlon could figure me out so easily. I looked at him, seeing him unclothed for the first time. Admittedly, I'd wondered more than once what he looked like underneath his lab coat. Nice body, for sure. Good muscles, just right. A generous sprinkling of dark chest hair, becoming more dense below his navel. And there was his cock, finally, beautiful and huge and very hard, jutting out of a curly thatch as thick and black as the hair on his head. Amused, Michael watched me watch him.
He let me stare for a few seconds. "Okay," he grinned, pushing my shoulder playfully, tugging on my sleeve. "Take it off. You can look all you want later."
I slowly pulled my sweater over my head and unhooked my bra. Folding both, I started to get out of bed to put them on a chair. Michael shot out one arm, blocking me, and with the other hand grabbed my clothing. He tossed it across the room. "I didn't tell you to get out of bed, did I?"
I looked at him, feeling a slippery, fluttering warmth in my belly. Oh.
Michael sighed. "We have such a long way to go with you, Clarissa. But I know you'll come around. Now sit still."
He leaned over and lifted my breasts, cupping them in his hands, testing their weight. He massaged them tenderly, rubbing his thumbs over my tingling nipples, rolling the hard pink buds between his fingers, holding my gaze as he fondled me. His hands were gentle and sure: physician's hands. I felt myself responding, felt my pussy heat up. He looked remarkably disinterested, almost clinical. Perversely, that increased my excitement. Suddenly, he pinched my nipples, hard. I jumped and squealed, instinctively pulling away, trying to cover my chest. "Ow!" I cried, accusingly. That had hurt. I think.
"Uh, uh," Michael said, without changing his expression, not letting go. "Hands at your sides. Look at me."
My hands hovered reflexively, for a split second, halfway between my waist and my breasts.
"C'mon, honey, don't fight me. I'm not even applying full pressure. Wanna see how much worse it can get?"
With effort, I lowered my hands.
Michael smiled. "Good girl. Concentrate on what you feel. Remember that spanking you just got? Same concept. Bear it for me, Clarissa." He released my nipples, suddenly, and, just as quickly, clamped down again, harder. I gasped as I felt a wave of warm ecstasy ripple through me, radiating from between my parted thighs.
"There ya go," he soothed. "Nice little endorphin rush, huh?"
I shuddered and moaned, unable to look away. He was so beautiful. I was drowning.
"And you know," Michael whispered, "You get addicted to that rush. Real fast. Best drug in the world, Clarissa." He let go, then pinched again. Once more, that incredible, warm wave. My pussy was throbbing, soaked, my labia swollen and hot. I could feel my vaginal muscles twitching. I bucked my hips, whimpering. I began to cry, not knowing why.
"There's my girl," Michael said softly, "Go on, give in. Just open up and let me get right inside your pretty little head. Because the truth is, honey, you want me in there, dontcha?"
Sobbing, I nodded. God help me, he was right. I didn't understand this, I really didn't. But my body understood perfectly.
Michael released me, suddenly, and just as quickly, shoved me down on the bed, climbing on top of me. He gripped my wrists, one in each hand, forcing my forearms down on either side of my head and pinning me to the mattress. I felt his cock, heavy and hard, against my abdomen, his muscular chest against my breasts. "Now, here's how it goes," he murmured, his handsome face inches from mine. "From now on, you live to please me. Whenever I want. However I want. If you're a good girl, you get to feel good. If you're a bad girl, you get , uh, corrected."
I moaned, feeling my clitoris swell. I was lubricating heavily.
Michael laughed softly. "Yeah, I know. Something tells me you can't wait to be bad."
He shifted slightly, nudging my thighs apart with one knee. He released my wrists and grabbed his cock in one hand. "Hands above your head," he whispered. "Cross your wrists. Keep 'em there, okay?"
I complied, feeling deliciously vulnerable.
Michael raised himself slightly on one arm, on his knees now, straddling me. Gently, teasingly, he rubbed the head of his cock, slick with pre-come, back and forth over my labia, stopping every so often to nudge my clitoris, grazing it in slow, slippery circles. The tip of his organ slid easily, so easily, over the sensitive tissue. Oh, God. My breathing became rapid. I felt my pulse jump sharply.
"Bet your heart's going like a steam-engine," Michael breathed. "Wonder how many beats a minute we're counting now, Miss Blackwood?"
He continued to stroke me with his cock. I squirmed, pushing my hips forward to give him better access. My pussy was dripping. I felt viscous fluid on the insides of my tensed thighs. My nipples were tight pink stones, super-sensitive from Michael's previous ministrations. I was having a hard time seeing straight.
"Aw, you want it so much," Michael laughed. "Poor little frustrated Clarissa. Such a dedicated student. Such a good girl. Always dreamed of being a doctor, so she hocks herself to the eyeballs and works her ass off, taking shit from jerks like me. But the work wasn't enough, was it, honey? You thought'd make your life complete, helping people, healing people, but something was still missing. Something that didn't have anything to do with medicine."
Michael inclined his head and kissed me, gently, sweetly, full on the mouth. I felt his tongue trace a feathery line around my parted lips. He pushed the head of his cock inside of me now, just past the entrance to my vagina, and held it there, teasing me. From somewhere in the part of my brain that wasn't focused on my crotch, my common sense made a sudden, unexpected appearance. Uh, protection, anyone? I pulled back, hesitating.
Michael looked at me, raising one eyebrow. "Don't even think about asking me to use one, honey, " he said, understanding instantly. "Not with you. I'm clean. And I bet you haven't been with more than two guys in your life."
He was right.
I gave myself up to the inevitable.
Michael kissed me again, deeply, darting his tongue around mine, gently biting my lower lip.
"Now that all of the, uh, niceties are out of the way, how 'bout I fuck you, Miss Blackwood?" he whispered, his lips against mine, hips undualting wickedly.
I nodded, feeling like my chest was going to explode. I was on fire between my legs. I wanted Michael Hanlon more than I wanted to breathe.
"Say please."
