Page 170 of Naughty November
Once he unlocked the door, he entered the room and flipped a switch on the wall. Several small, recessed lights positioned throughout the room came on, casting a warm glow. I squinted my eyes as I became adjusted to the lower light. Nothing had changed from what I could tell. The spanking bench to the right, the cross in the center on a cushioned floor pad, chains hanging overhead. A cabinet behind the apparatus that I knew contained all of Gene’s implements and toys.
I turned to the left and froze. It seemed as if something was different after all. Although I should’ve been expecting it since I’d watched the sounding demonstration, and they’d used a chair like the one in Gene’s dungeon, I didn’t remember seeing it the one time we’d used his dungeon instead of going to the club.
Gene gestured to the medical chair. “Before I ask you to strip, I’d like you to come closer and take a look. Examine it if you’d like, climb in, adjust the footrests and stirrups. Whatever you like.”
I took him up on his offer, approaching the chair as if it might bite me. I reminded myself that I was the one who’d asked for this. Careful what you wish for… I ran my hands over the black vinyl-covered padding. Being in a doctor’s office had never felt sexy to me. I’d never fantasized about the hot doctor having his way with me in the office, and sitting on crinkly paper didn’t do a thing for me either.
But my naked ass against the cool plastic fabric, my body heat eventually warming up the covering until sweat pooled where skinand vinyl met, my feet in the stirrups, knees forced apart, Gene penetrating a part of me I never imagined I’d ask to be violated…
I swiped the back of my hand over my mouth, the sound of my throat clearing like a shout in the large, open room. Next to the chair was a steel tray on a rolling stand with several items already laid out on the towel covering the surface. I noted some sterile lube packets, a pair of latex gloves, alcohol wipes, and a long rectangular red case. Under other circumstances, I would’ve guessed it was meant to contain a small musical instrument, perhaps a piccolo. But I knew better.
“Are we still green?”
I covered his hand with my own. “Yes, Sir. I want this.”
He pressed his lips to my knuckles then stepped away.
“Strip. Do it slowly—show me how much you ache to please me.”
My lips parted, and I inhaled a deep breath as I stepped closer to the precipice. In my mind, the kink was on one side, being intimate with a man on the other. If I took the leap, then maybe those two things could be one. I no longer wanted any separation to exist between us, no second guessing whether I was ready for a complete relationship with him.
Knowing we'd be at his home, I’d chosen something simple to wear. A forest green button-down shirt tucked into dark jeans, black boxer briefs, and a tank. I toed off my Vans, then before I could freak myself out by obsessing over whether I’d made the correct wardrobe choice, I took the easy path and began my show by undoing the cuffs.
Gene stood before me with his hands folded in front of him, a slight smile tugging at his lips as if he knew my hidden agenda. It couldn’t be helped, though. I’d never been an extrovert, the life of the party, the guy who shined at a dance club with my killer moves on the floor. I imagined I looked like a cardboard cutout man that had miraculously developed the ability to move.
My hands trembled, so I focused on keeping the pace languid as I reached for the first button at the top of my shirt. Master Gene's gaze traveled the length of my frame, and I imagined him taking in every twitch of muscle, exhaled breath, and every new inch of exposed skin.With each button I undid, a sense of liberation washed over me. Pleasing my Sir was all that mattered.
Pulling the shirt slowly open, I slipped one side off my shoulder then the other, finally revealing my chest. The air touching my now bare skin tightened the nipples on my chest into tight buds. My body wasn’t sculpted by gym hours or the natural gift of genetics. However, it was mine, and Gene’s wide smile radiating back at me boosted my confidence.
"Continue," he encouraged, his voice resonating deep in his chest.
I unbuckled the belt with shaky hands that seemed to have forgotten their basic function. The leather slipped out of the loops easily with a soft swishing sound, adding to the growing tension in the room. I dropped the belt next to my shirt, knowing I couldn’t put off the rest any longer. No matter how slowly Gene wanted me to strip, he wouldn’t wait forever. After unzipping my jeans, I started pushing them down, but Gene held up his hand, palm out.
“Wait. Turn around.”
I sucked in a sharp breath but immediately obeyed. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess why he’d made such a request.
“Very good,” he said softly. “Hook your thumbs in the loops, then as you slide your pants down, move as slowly as you can. Keep your legs straight.”
A shiver ran through me at his command. Obedience was its own form of arousal, and no one knew that better than Master Gene. I glanced over my shoulder, catching his eye for a moment before continuing. I slid my jeans over the curve of my ass then down my thighs.
I reached the point where I had no choice but to bend over, the knit fabric of my briefs stretching across my backside. I wasn’t as exposed as I could be, though. I wasn’t naked, but I was hard. Once I turned around, the clingy underwear would reveal all my secrets.
“Don’t move,” Gene whispered.
I froze, wondering how graceful I could possibly be struggling out of the bootcut jeans, when Gene’s steadying hand landed on my lower back, his other clasping my shoulder.
“Let me help you straighten up.”
Gene helped me rise, and a rush of blood whooshed to my head.
“Steady,” he said. “Stay still for a moment while you get your balance.”
It wasn’t as if I’d never bent over then risen on my own before. However, between my nerves and remaining with my head down for a while—it definitely made me dizzy. I chuckled to myself, but it was quickly replaced with a stab to my heart.
Once again, I was irrationally jealous that Gene had catered to other men, had kept them safe and sound, his every thought tuned in to their comfort. Gene’s sexual history didn’t phase me. But this? I could only hope he might someday feel that possessive of me.
The warmth of Gene’s hand on my chest brought me back to the present. He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, and my heart skittered.