Page 7 of Doctor Hardy and the Hysteria Machine (The Doctor’s Pleasure #1)
Chapter Six
W hen Beatrice finally regained her breath and her voice, she felt like she’d uncovered one of the great mysteries of the universe. The doctor had taken her apart expertly, before slotting every piece back together like a puzzle.
So this is the ultimate ecstasy married ladies and matrons wink and whisper about—this feeling of complete surrender. She felt refreshed. Invigorated, even! When her breathing gradually steadied, a soft sense of self-assurance crept into the hairline cracks left behind by her crippling doubt.
“Doctor Hardy, that was wondrous!” She covered her flushed face with her cool hands, watching him through splayed fingers. Feeling the blood still palpating inside every vein.
The doctor pulled away from between her legs and gently covered her modesty with the crumpled white sheet. His manly lips shone with the prize of her climax, his handsome face alighted by a satisfied smirk.
“You were perfect, Lady Beatrice,” he said, fire in his blue eyes. She had to avert her gaze, burned by the intensity of his look and his praise.
The smell of almond and bergamot had seeped into her pores, and her womanhood still gave a little twitch now and again, languidly. Dimly, Beatrice fancied that she would carry the fragrant scent for the rest of her life.
The doctor had marked her, and she could not find it within herself to mind one bit.
Doctor Hardy stood from his kneeling position by her couch, before gently wiping his glistening fingers with a gossamer handkerchief. He leaned down and pressed his palm against Beatrice's forehead, taking her temperature. She could smell herself on his hand, mingled with the oil he had chosen with such care for her comfort.
Would he soak his hands in a basin of water as soon as she stepped out of his door, tendrils of her wanton pleasure dissolving from under his fingernails? Or would he savor the evident success of her first treatment, and perhaps even take his fingers between his lips?
Before Beatrice could chide herself for these unbidden thoughts, she noticed something.
His manhood, hard and unyielding, strained against too-tight trousers. The good doctor’s arousal was as evident as the daylight creeping under the heavy curtains of his examination room.
She swallowed dryly as she made out the distinct outline of his long shaft, so big and unmistakably girthy even through layers of clothing.
Did he take pleasure in administering her treatment? The thought was heady—this older, experienced, and completely self-possessed man wanting her. Exulting and yearning after just a taste of her private offering.
Inhibition lowered in the afterglow of her orgasm, her hand darted towards him before she could stop it.
“Doctor,” she whispered, and he suspended all movement upon feeling her small hand on his muscular thigh. Her eyes darted towards his tented trousers before fixing on his face.
“Lady Beatrice,” the man warned in a low voice, his hardness giving a twitch at the unspoken question in her eyes.
“Will you… Show me?” She asked. The question hung between them, and suddenly she feared his reaction. Would he reject her indecent proposal—even ridicule her? She was just an inexperienced virgin, getting full of herself from her very first climax.
“This would be highly irregular, my dear,” he said gently. “Please understand, Beatrice, that it would be irresponsible of me to claim your maidenhead during your very first treatment.”
“I understand, doctor.” She never hated her innocence more. Rejection it was, then. But his hand darted out to catch hers before she could retreat in shame.
“But you have made astounding progress today. Although I feel obliged to save the more advanced… procedures for your second session, I don’t see how a little reward won’t help us solidify that progress. After all, you have been a very good girl for me today.”
Beatrice gave a shy smile at his praise. “Thank you, Doctor Hardy.”
“Have you seen a manhood before?”
Her mind strayed to that summer, and to the most striking bronze statue she’d seen at a Parisian salon. It had stirred scandal, some said, for being too lifelike—the gentle droop of the arms, the curve of the thighs, the candid depiction of male nudity, all too human to be merely art. But Beatrice had lingered before the life-sized bronze man, unable to walk away or tear her eyes from the subtle lines in his sinewy body.
“Only in art. I’m afraid I am a complete novice otherwise.”
“That’s a wonderful observation,” the doctor said, his hand moving to cup the growing bulge between his legs. “Nature is a splendid artist. And we can learn a thing or two from the great masters. You see, we were all nude once, and content, before others taught us shame.”
Beatrice could not tear her eyes away from the doctor’s fingers, which were buried deep inside her moments ago, stroking himself through his trousers.
She lay perfectly still under the sheet, enraptured by the scene unfolding before her eyes. Her heaving bosoms and the hardened nipples outlined by the thin fabric betrayed her excitement.
The movement of his fingers was controlled and steady as always. She found it excruciatingly slow, the way he undid the small row of buttons lining his straining crotch.
The doctor was so hard . Beatrice thought weakly, as fabric gave way to reveal the full girth of his cock.
He grasped himself by the base and pulled it out before her eyes. Inch by inch, the full extent of his arousal came into view. In Beatrice’s innocent eyes, it looked as though the organ went on forever, dusty pink and deep purple pulsing with heat. He wrapped his hand around it and gave it one slow pump. As the thick head emerged from his fist, she saw that it was glistening with moisture.
His mouth opened in a silent moan as his pleasure-hooded eyes met her wide, honey-brown ones. This was her doing, she thought, a surge of power roaring against her eardrums. She aroused this Adonis of a man to his full, thick length.
He dropped his hand to give her a better view. His fully-hard cock stood erect and proud between them, a long blade of hard steel curving ever so slightly towards his belly.
“It’s magnificent,” said Beatrice. He was magnificent, and she had almost forgotten to breathe. At some point, she had propped herself up on the cushions of the examination couch, and her sheet had fallen to her waist. The outline of her nipples were on full display, hard and full against the thin chemise that did little to conceal her arousal.
“Go on, you may touch it,” said her indulgent doctor.
With trembling fingertips, she stroked the thick tip. Reflectively, she pulled her hands away as if it burned her.
“It’s quite hot,” she said by way of explanation, before eagerly returning her hand to trace a long, bulging vein running along his length. His cock jumped under her hand, and another bead of moisture emerged from the top.
Doctor Hardy hissed as she explored him, from each distinct vein to the wide rim of his helmet, marveling at the velvety texture overlaying the solid hardness.
She stroked him with her fist, clumsily, imitating his movement. Beatrice could not wrap her fingers all the way around, and she noted with alarm that the cock was close to the length of her forearm.
“Good girl, Agnes,” he said through clenched teeth, before catching himself in the mistake. Beatrice pretended not to notice the blunder, but an undeserved possessiveness ate at her.
Deliberately, jealously, she wrapped both hands around his cock and formed a full circle. The doctor’s eyes slipped shut, and he moaned low in his throat.
“Yes, just like that. You are doing so well.” He stroked his fingers through the loose brown ringlets pooling on Beatrice’s shoulders, having long escaped the neat little bun she put them in this morning.
He let her touch him however she wanted for a few minutes, hissing and straining and full of praise. But just as Beatrice found her rhythm, one hand at his base and the other one spreading his glistening moisture on the thick head, he stopped her.
“Doctor?” She asked, the sting from his rejection pale in the face of her renewed arousal.
With great effort, Doctor Hardy composed himself. Breathing hard, he shoved his throbbing cock back into his trousers and buttoned them back up with jerky fingers.
“Your first treatment was extraordinary, Lady Beatrice,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Let us continue to the next steps a week from today. Meanwhile, please think about what I said.”
Abruptly, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Beatrice dazed.