Doctor Blumfield’s Breeding Slave (Medical BDSM & Breeding Erotica) Read online

  Doctor Blumfield’s Breeding Slave (medical BDSM and breeding erotica)

  By Francis Ashe

  ***

  The lamp above Dr. Blumfield’s exam table was so bright that I had to close my eyes.

  “What seems to be the problem, Missus Rogers? I’m not seeing anything wrong here,” Dr. Blumfield said as he put his surgical mask into place and slid the cold steel of his scapula between my legs.

  I lay back, my feet clamped into the stirrups on the exam table, a belt around my midsection that he said was ‘medically necessary’ but I didn’t believe him on that count. It did feel good though, cinched around me so tight that it pinched a little bit.

  “Yeah, I see no problems. In fact,” he paused, “you’re absolutely soaked.”

  Dr. Blumfield squeezed my lips between two fingers. “Mmm, so fucking wet. If I came home to you every night, this cunt would be so raw from fucking that you’d barely be able to walk.”

  A latex covered finger slipped between my folds. He ran it up me, then down me all the way to my asshole. Two more lazy strokes followed and then he pulled away from me, fiddled with something by the exam room’s sink, and came back. Dr. Blumfield pushed my folds apart and drew near my body. Only the vaguest hint of breath came through his mask, but the what little came through sent a shiver up my back.

  He slid a finger deep inside my sex-slicked pussy. He turned it, curled it against my front wall, shooting sparks up my spine. When I made a little whimper, he jammed it in harder and touched my puckered ring with the other fingertip.

  “Doctor Blumfield, I – I’ve never – please, no – my husband...”

  He stuffed another finger in my snatch and worked half of his pinky inside my ass.

  “If you wanted me to stop,” he whispered, “you wouldn’t be arching your back and dripping down my wrist. You like this, don’t you, Alex? You make little moans every time I stick my finger deeper in your asshole. If you wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be chewing your lip like that, and acting like you haven’t had a good, hard cum in years. You haven’t, have you, Alex?”

  Dr. Blumfield drove all three fingers deeper. His index finger slid up my slit and ground against my clitoris. As wrong as it felt, especially when my husband Walter was waiting for me outside in the car, the doctor was right. I didn’t want him to stop. I had not felt like that since, well, ever, probably.

  “Oh my, how careless of me. I’ve forgotten an important part of the procedure. Please, excuse me.” Dr. Blumfield pushed away, my asshole sucking at the finger inside it as he pulled out. He stood and walked around the table.

  Sterile butcher’s paper crinkled underneath me as he pulled two armrests out from either side of the exam table, grabbed one of my wrists and bound it, motionless, with some kind of leather strap. He buckled it tight, so tight that it pinched my skin, just like the belt around my belly.

  “Doctor Blumfield,” I began to protest before he clamped a hand over my mouth.

  “No, no, Alex. The slave doesn’t speak.” He moved behind me. “The slave remains silent.”

  Slave? What the hell is he talking about? My better sense told me to scream, to bite him, to claw at him with my free hand.

  Then, I felt his hand on my cheek. Warm, soft.

  My better sense did not have a chance.

  I consciously calmed my breathing. He stroked me again.

  “Good,” he said, “that’s good. Now, if you expect Doctor Blumfield to make a thorough examination, you need to help.”

  Help? But he’s the –

  Heavy, thick and hard, Dr. Blumfield pressed his cock against my cheek. He pushed his hips so that his dick moved back and forth across my lips before he worked his tip between them. Already he had a little drop of pre-cum that ran over my tongue and down my throat.

  Holy shit, I’ve never felt anything like this. Certainly not from Walter.

  “Yes, good, that’s good Alex.” He groaned and wrenched my head sideways with a handful of hair. “That’s right, suck it. Suck my cock. Make me nice and hard so I can stick it in and prove there’s nothing wrong with you. Do you want that? Would that make you feel better, Alexandra?”

  “Alexandra Rogers? Alexandra Rogers, please come to the front desk.” The secretary’s nasal impatience startled me enough to make me jump in my seat. I checked my watch. My appointment was already thirty minutes behind schedule. Walter is going to be pissed when I get out of here.

  “Fill this out, please. Insurance?”

  “Um, yeah, here’s my card. State Health,” I said, taking the clipboard and returning to my seat.

  Softly, I read the list of common health issues to myself, ticking the ‘no’ boxes one after another. “Arrhythmia, nope.” Check. “Previous ectopic pregnancy? Nope.” Check. “History of risky sexual behavior?” I paused for a moment and had to grin at my terribly naughty fantasy about Dr. Blumfield. Then, I sighed, “nope.” Check.

  Actually, that exact thing was the reason for this particular visit to Dr. Evan Blumfield in the first place. I married my husband, Walter, during my second year of college. He was my first lover, and for a while, things were great. But, that was a few years ago, and since then, things had cooled off.

  Walter gained a little bit of weight, and he was always exhausted from work, so what used to be hour-long romps in the hay got less vigorous and then started to get shorter. By the time Walter started demanding I go to Dr. Blumfield, the gynecologist that I’d been regularly seeing for years, I was convinced there was something wrong with me. Sexually, I mean. Walter claimed to be just as randy as ever, but I just didn’t feel much of anything. I tried to get Walt to try some new things – a little bondage, maybe even some whipping – but he just looked at me like I was crazy. “What are you, some kind of a pervert?” He’d said.

  Well, no, I’m not some kind of pervert. But I did miss the way I used to cum so hard that my cunt squeezed Walter’s dick so that he had to wait until I stopped to pull out. I missed how it felt to have him jam his hips against me and spurt my pussy full. I missed running my hand all the way from my worn out sex up to my mouth, leaving a glistening fluid trail and then sucking whatever was left off my fingers. That didn’t make me a pervert. It made me a...

  “Alexander Rogers,” a bored looking physician’s assistant called. “Alexander Rogers. Are you here, Alexander Rogers?”

  “Alexandra?” I asked, standing up and gathering my half-finished clipboard. He looked down at his.

  “Oh, yeah. Whatever. Down that hall to your left. Exam room eight.”

  I took a left, and walked past room four, six, and then stopped in front of eight.

  “All the way back here? Looks like this hall has seen better days.”

  “Yep, that’s the one.” He shrugged. “Since the clinic across the way closed, Dr. Blumfield’s been sharing space with a couple podiatrists. Anyway, here you are.”

  After the cursory pleasantries: blood pressure, asking if I was on drugs, taking my temperature, the heavy-lidded man surprised me.

  “Where are you in your menstrual cycle right now, Alexander? Uh, I mean Alexandra.”

  “My what?” I sputtered, “Oh, sorry. Took me by surprise. I’m ovulating, or will be in a couple of days.”

  He made some kind of mark on his little paper and looked at me for a second.

  “Okay, then. Make yourself comfortable. There’s a new National Geographic over there, I think. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

  Checking my watch again, I noticed it was now one full hour after my appointment time. Walter is go
ing to be furious.

  ***

  Two short knocks on the door preceded Dr. Blumfield’s entrance. What is there to say about him? I’ve been going to him for years, but every single time, I get a little anxious when I hear those knocks. He’s a foot taller than me, about six inches bigger than Walter. His dress shirt was tight around his chest and arms, although not because it was too small – his arms were just big – and tapered down to a nice, trim waist. Piercing, nut-brown eyes, black hair that looked to be perfectly tousled, and an impossibly smooth face rounded him out.

  The intensity with which I watched him surprised me. Like I said, we moved out to this side of town a little while after we got married, and so I started getting my exams here. He’s the sort of guy that you see and go ‘hey, not bad looking!’ but then never think about it again. But, right then, the way he looked at me in return put a flutter in my stomach.

  “Hi there, Alexander,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Actually it’s...”

  “I know, Alexandra. You’ve been coming here for, what, six years? Seven? I heard my assistant was making a fool of himself. I couldn’t resist. Sorry,” he grinned. There was something vaguely menacing behind his smile. Not that he seemed threatening or dangerous, but mischievous.

  “So, what seems to be the trouble?” He sat and rolled back and forth on his little stool. “Here, please relax while you explain what brings you in today. Remember, I’m your doctor. Try not to be embarrassed about whatever it is that’s troubling you.”

  He gave me a hand to balance on as I climbed up and sat on the table. Butcher paper crinkled.

  “Well, it’s a little embarrassing I guess,” I began, “but basically my husband and I – well, our sex life has dried up. I think there must be something wrong with me.”

  “I see,” he replied, “how did you come to this conclusion?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and penetrated me with his deep stare. I noticed his high, gorgeous cheekbones then for the first time. I noticed just how powerful he looked. His eyes tracked up and down my body before coming back to the level with mine. The doctor did not, at all, hide what he was doing. His brazenness caught me a little by surprise.

  “It just is. It has to be. Nothing’s wrong with Walter.”

  “Mhm.” He rolled closer on the stool. “Lie back, please, I’ll see if I can find anything suspicious. Disrobe, please. Would you like me to leave the room?”

  That’s strange, never had him ask me before. Usually he just leaves. “Well, no, I suppose not,” I laughed nervously, “nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  Dr. Blumfield’s lips smiled. His eyes did not.

  “Often, in cases like this, we find that the husband – or the male partner, whatever the case – is actually inadequate. He often convinces the female she is at fault as a way to hide those feelings. But, I’m not a psychotherapist, so I shouldn’t continue. Something to keep in mind, anyway.”

  By the time he had finished, I had undressed and resumed my seat.

  “Good. Feet in the stirrups, please. Oh, I forgot – would you like a gown?”

  I have to admit that, even though his bedside manner was rather careless, his disaffection with the whole proceeding had me more than a little bit excited. I hoped that he didn’t notice my nipples. Or how wet I was beginning to get.

  “N-no, that’s not necessary,” I stammered, “thank you though.”

  “Fine. Stirrups, please.”

  I winced, expecting the footrests to be cold steel, like they usually are, but they were actually rather pleasant. Soft, but firm.

  “Do you like them? No cold steel. Benefits of private practice.”

  Just as I got both feet in place, Dr. Blumfield popped his gloves into place, lowered a surgical mask across his face and stood between my legs, staring.

  “Is there something wrong, doctor?”

  “No, no, on the contrary, Alexandra.”

  “Alex is fine.”

  “Good. On the contrary, Alex, I very much like what I see. However, there is something I would like to do, if you’re not opposed. Recently, I prefer to restrain my patients. I find that the ability to move makes people more likely to jerk around. It might seem strange at first but it seems to make people more comfortable. Especially in these sorts of situations.”

  Restraint? I’ve been trying to get Walter to tie me up and gag me for years. I – no, no, certainly that’s not what he means. He’s so calm. So beautifu... Alex, what the hell are you thinking? This is just your doctor!

  “Yes, of course doctor, whatever you think to be best.”

  His eyes burned as he looked at me. I felt a very strange sort of warmth creep down my belly, between my legs. I really, really hope he doesn’t notice my nipples. I can’t believe I feel like this. I haven’t wanted a man this bad in... Alex! Stop it! Listen to yourself!

  The sound of a well-used leather belt interrupted my thoughts.

  “I find these old leather restraints best. They’re warm. Not cold and impersonal like the plastic ones on modern exam tables. Don’t you think?”

  Holy shit was all I could think. As he cinched the age-softened leather around my ankle, he watched my face. For some reason, I sucked in a deep breath. The way he was gazing at me, how he spoke, it just did something to me.

  Then he tightened it another notch. I let out a little squeal as the belt bit into my flesh. I could have swung my other foot over, clocked him a good one on the side of the head. But, truth be told, I loved how it felt to be helpless. That warmth from earlier spread between my legs and I felt a tiny trickle of my own juice run down my slit.

  On my other ankle, he cinched it down hard and fast. Oh my God it hurt. Oh my God it felt good.

  “Doctor Blumfield! It’s so tight! I... oh it’s so tight.”

  “It feels good, doesn’t it? How long have you wanted Walter to do this for you? How many times have you begged him? Pleaded with him? For months? Maybe for years?”

  How did he know?

  “H-how did you know?”

  “I can tell. You look like someone that’s chronically unsatisfied. Just like me. We’re kindred spirits, I guess.” The face mask obscured his expressions, but his eyes were so alive, so bright that I almost felt like he was talking to me through them.

  “Lie back.”

  I did.

  “I can tell already there’s nothing wrong with you. Except that you have a husband who is sexually useless. He must be small. Is that right?”

  “Doctor Blumfield, I don’t...”

  “I’m your doctor. We have to be frank. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  I gulped. Hard. Oh holy shit is Walter ever going to be pissed.

  “When’s the last time he really fucked you? I mean rammed you so hard this pretty little pussy turned red? Slam-fucked you so hard you couldn’t walk?”

  Feeling myself blush, I gasped. “Doctor! I don’t know what that has to do with anything!”

  “Yes you do,” he shot back, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know there’s nothing wrong. You knew it when you felt this juice run down between your legs. The only thing wrong with you is that you need a man to take care of you. To make you feel special. Does that sound about right?”

  There was no way I could just agree with him, even though I knew he was right.

  “If he can’t do it for you, you need someone who can. I know what you’re thinking, Alex. You’re thinking how good it would feel to have me between your legs. You’re imagining what a real man’s cock feels like, aren’t you? Your filthy little mind probably started to come up with scenarios while you were bored in the waiting room.”

  Before I could answer, he shushed me.

  “I can do that for you. This isn’t something I do normally. There’s something about you though. But, quid pro quo, Alex. I give, I get. Do you understand?”

  I couldn’t do anything but nod. He had me from the instant those twinkling brown eyes flickered across my body
. I knew that, and so did he.

  “We’ll have a follow-up in a week. At that point, I’ll either decide to keep our deal going, or cut it off. If I like what I see, we might have an arrangement. But for now, I’ll show you that none of this has anything to do with you.”

  He brushed a gloved hand over my leg, down my shin. “Alex, you are a beautiful, fascinating woman. Why do you think your husband’s lack of ability to excite you is in any way your problem?”

  As I considered his question, Dr. Blumfield slid his fingers back up my leg, along the side this time. He lingered behind my knee, turning figure eights and watching my eyes, waiting for a response. I started to speak, and then closed my mouth again.

  “What is it, Alex?” he said, his voice turned up at the end. He sounded genuinely concerned. “You’re safe with me. That’s how this works.”

  I opened my mouth again, words almost falling from my tongue. Almost.

  His hand moved up my leg. Little tingles swam up my body, tickling my slit and warming my belly.

  “He… Walter – he convinced me it was entirely my fault. He made me believe that all the problems were me. That there was something wrong with me. ‘I haven’t changed’ he kept saying. Well that isn’t true at all. He has changed! He’s out of shape, can’t keep me excited the way he used to do. And worse than that, he’s…”

  Dr. Blumfield’s fingers slid up one side of my sex and down the other. He drew slow, patient circles that collected my moisture at the bottom of each stroke and spread it around my pussy, glistening and sweet.

  “That’s fine, Alex. You can talk to me. I understand. But you know that it is Walter who is the problem. The way your tight little pussy wants me to stick my fingers inside, how you keep trying to wiggle closer speaks volumes. You’re beautiful. Your face, your body – admit what you already know. Admit out loud that Walter is a disappointment.”

  Those fingers pushed apart my folds and I felt the smallest amount of pressure when he moved them inside my hole. Alex! What are you doing? Walter is going to kill you! Walter is-

  “Worthless!” I gasped as Dr. Blumfield’s fingers worked inside me, soft latex pinching ever so slightly. “Walter is worthless! I love him, I want to be with him, but he just can’t please me. Not like, not like…”