Page 11 of Doctor Hardy and the Hysteria Machine (The Doctor’s Pleasure #1)
Chapter Ten
W hen the doctor slanted his lips against Beatrice's core this time, she did not hold back. Grabbing handfuls of his luscious black hair, she pushed herself against his hot mouth and undulated her hips.
With Agnes still in the room, a hitherto unknown sense of competitiveness urged Beatrice on. She had nothing but goodwill towards the doctor's pretty assistant, but she wished to show them both how far she had progressed with the doctor's help.
“Oh yes, doctor,” she moaned, sounding a little more breathless than she felt, “Please! Right there…”
Doctor Hardy’s muffled praises vibrated against her swollen, wet nub. She felt heady watching this powerful, magnificent man on his knees before her: his hands clenched around her bunched-up cotton shift, his tongue lapping at her arousal with wanton abandon.
She reclined back against the headrest and her eyes fell shut, as she felt a burgeoning climax quickly approach.
Just then, she felt the doctor’s hot mouth pull away from her.
Beatrice’s eyes snapped open, and she panted, bewildered as the doctor rose to his feet.
He was hard for her again, she saw, feeling triumphant. If she offered up her maidenhead now on a silver plate, he would not be able to refuse.
With a flick of his wrist, Doctor Hardy switched on the device.
It started to life with a loud, rumbling groan, but gradually settled into a low hum. Without a word from the doctor, Agnes checked over the machine’s various components and gave him a nod.
“Everything is in order,” the doctor clapped his hands once in excitement. “Lady Beatrice, are you ready for my hysteria machine?” A different voice echoed in her head: Lady Beatrice Campbell, will you marry me and make me the happiest soul in England?
She must do this for Eric. She must get past her hysterical nerves, marry him, and bear him an heir. Beatrice pushed down the unbidden thoughts. That whole plan was all well and good, she knew. But right now her cunny did not pulse from a sense of wifely duty. It pulsed because she ached to feel the doctor’s cock inside her.
The doctor picked up the rubber replica of his cock, its flared base connected to the machine by an extendable coil. He uncorked the familiar little vial and dribbled its almond and bergamot liquid onto the vibrating tip. The cock glistened as he stroked along its length with a closed fist. His own hard cock twitched in his trousers as he worked to spread the oil. Beatrice’s mouth went dry at the implication of what she was witnessing: the doctor taking pleasure from his own hand.
“To start, I am going to apply this device to your clitoris. That is the button at the top of your opening,” he explained in a matter-of-fact voice, showing her the vibrating cock tip.
Beatrice reclined on the examination couch and put her ankles into the leg rests, and spread her legs wide for him.
“Terrific,” he said. “Now, this may feel intense.”
She nodded and told the doctor to begin. Standing on the other side of the couch was Agnes, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she held Beatrice’s hand.
The look on Agnes’s face was explained the second Doctor Hardy brought the shiny red cock down to her core. It’s touched her, throbbing and gliding against her tender flesh, aided by a mixture of the oil and her own juices.
Beatrice cried out in rapture.
“Doctor! Oh, Doctor!” She writhed as ecstasy hit her to the quick. The leg rests shook and clattered under her trembling legs, and she squeezed Agnes’s fingers hard.
“Try to relax.” Through the roaring blood against her eardrums, she heard Agnes’s soft reassurance. “Let it take over your body.”
It felt like being struck by lightning, Beatrice thought. Again and again, powerful waves of it began at her nub, which felt impossibly swollen and slick, and shot into every nerve end and vein. She thrashed against the examination couch, her hair flung out in loose ringlets in every direction.
“Yes—Oh, yes . Oh, please, Doctor!” She keened and moaned, broken sounds falling fast from her lips as the doctor kept the relentless pleasure coming. And coming.
Just as she teetered on the edge of that glorious abyss, ready to plunge headlong into its embrace, the doctor shifted the cock tip away from her bud and prodded at her opening.
Beatrice panted and pushed her hips towards him, earning a dark chuckle from the clearly aroused man, and said, “Take me, Doctor Hardy. I am all yours.”
The blunt tip nudged at her virginal slit. Warmed by the scalding heat of her core, it felt almost like the real thing. His blue eyes were dark as midnight as he held her gaze steady, and inch by it, pushed the cock into her fresh, unused cunny.
“Since your maidenhead is still intact, there may be some discomfort,” he cautioned, easing the length into her, the girthy vibration shaking her intensely.
Beatrice prepared for the pain to come, but it never did. She groaned as the cock filled her to the brim, its tip pushing against her womb most deliciously.
“I feel—” She fought to get the words out between the waves of moans rising from her chest, knowing the doctor approved of such vocalizations, “I am soaring, Doctor.”
“Good girl. Spread your wings,” he said, and rotated the device so its flared base pressed against her clitoris while its bulk worked inside her.
Beatrice was indeed soaring, the pleasure driving her higher and higher, until her soul almost left her body to float above the scene. A woman possessed by ecstasy, flanked by the man working intently between her legs, and his assistant who steadied her wobbling legs to keep her cunny accessible.
She heard a deep, sultry moan, and it was a few seconds before she realized it had originated from her own throat.
“Yes! Oh, Doctor Hardy!”
“Yes, Beatrice. Just like that—let yourself go.”
She leaped into that dark, yawning abyss of ecstasy, black spots creeping into her vision. Beatrice spent, feeling a great rush of warmth pulsing from her core and into her entire body. It enveloped her entirely as she shook and shook, vaguely cognizant of Agnes’s arms around her.
He did not pull the rubber cock out of her, until he wrung out every last drop of her twitching, writhing pleasure.
When she finally descended back to her body, Beatrice could barely recognize the scene before her. Her cotton shift had risen to her bosom, hard nipple threatening to escape their confines. Strands of chestnut hair were stuck to her forehead and neck by a sheen of sweat.
Her feet had long escaped the wooden rests, and one leg was flung off the side of the couch. Chest heaving, she noticed that a healthy pink flush had taken over the entirety of her pale body.
She breathed hard as the doctor and Agnes both looked down at her, too overwhelmed to be ashamed of her outrageous nudity.
Beatrice searched the doctor’s eyes, longing for him to praise her again for how good she was for him. But in the bottomless pools of midnight blue, she saw only hunger.