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The Doctor of Rhodes Island wasn’t typically one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but when he walked into his office one day to find that W was tied up, blindfolded, and gagged without explanation, he had to admit he was more than a little astonished.
The Sarkaz mercenary-turned-operator never let someone get the drop on her. She was a professional instigator, but a professional nonetheless. She rarely made mistakes, even if her methods were liable to cause more problems than they solved.
Was this a problem? The Doctor honestly wasn’t sure.
Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he’d stumbled upon a scene like this. It was, however, the first time it was W, just as it was the first time this was happening in his office of all places.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
“GFF MM MGH MF MMFH!”
…is more or less what she said, thanks to the gag in her mouth.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” the Doctor mused, closing the office door behind. Locking it, too. He had a hunch it was something he was supposed to do, lest an operator swing on by and start asking questions. Posing inquiries he didn’t have the answers to.
W was arranged in such a way that she was sitting upright on the Doctor’s desk, with her thighs spread apart and a sizable hole at the crotch of her black pantyhose. The Doctor found his attention squarely on that hole—as if it had been made for him to begin with—where he could see what was obviously W’s panties.
As soon as he saw the crimson underwear she had on display, it became impossible for him to look away. The Doctor stepped closer to more survey W as she struggled and squirmed atop his desk, unable to break free of the strong ropes and binds that kept her secured nicely and tightly.
A gift, the Doctor assumed. There was no chance that W had done this to herself, so who could have left this present here for him?
“Was this Blaze’s doing?” he thought aloud, circling his desk and glaring hungrily at the bratty Sarkaz before him. “Or maybe Ho'olheyak? Maybe even Muelsyse?”
A handful of names sprang to mind, even if it was all just guesswork. Of course, he could always take the gag out of W’s mouth…
…but where was the fun in that?
No, the Doctor felt a different compulsion sneak up on him—one that was far more pleasurable for the both of them, he just knew it.
The Sarkaz followed the Doctor’s movements by turning her head this way and that, though it wasn’t like she could see him through that blindfold of hers. She must not have been terribly frightened by whatever had happened to her, because even though her words were muffled and her movements were stifled, she wasn’t knocking things over or using that thin tail of hers as a whip. The Doctor put his hand on W’s head from behind, and she stiffened with a definite squeak that made the Doctor crack a smile behind his mask.
Indeed, the Doctor wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Perhaps, here and now, he ought to simply indulge. He deserved this. He certainly felt as such, given the particular week of harassment and frustration at the hands of this white-haired roach.
The past seven days had been vexing, to say the least. W saw fit to annoy the Doctor with all manner of nonsense, having turned the brattiness and mean-spiritedness up to 11. She admitted to loosening the screws in his office chair and giving him a tumble; she claimed to have been responsible for eating all his food in the fridge, and she’d even got ahold of his phone just to delete his gacha game saves—an especially egregious criminal offense in his eyes.
All that was just the tip of the iceberg. There was something about W’s behavior that had changed significantly in just a short time in the last month on Rhodes Island. The Sarkaz operator had become downright supercilious; she’d turned up her nose at the Doctor’s requests, rarely followed tactical commands, and acted against the wishes of any squad leader she deemed unworthy of her time—which, as far as the Doctor knew, seemed to be all of them.
She was acting more like her old self, but worse somehow. The Doctor had thought it was high time for some disciplinary action.
For behavioral correction.
Maybe correction truly was the operative word here. The Doctor raked his gloved fingers through W’s snow-white locks of hair, and only now did she truly start thrashing in place, like she was trying to break free of the Doctor’s incoming embrace.
“Don’t even try to move,” the Doctor told her, and he watched as W stiffened in place. A moment passed before she started fidgeting again, her cries muffled and her noises stifled from the wet gag that was sticking out from between those lips of hers. Lips the Doctor knew he’d fantasized about before, during quiet, introspective moments.
W frustrated him, that much was clear. What frustrated him most, though, was how attracted he was to her. How maddeningly beautiful she could be, even in spite of, perhaps because of her attitude problem.
“You’ve been giving me problems all week… and now here you are. In my office, where you should be,” said the Doctor. “What do you have to say for yourself, W?”
“Mmff!! Mmff-pmmhh! Mmmmpphh!!”
The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, that’s right… you can’t say anything for yourself, can you? Even with the gag, it’s like nothing’s changed.”
W growled behind her gag. At last, she used her spade-tipped tail like a whip, thrashing and slamming it this way and that, tossing and sliding various things off the Doctor’s desk, where they clattered unceremoniously to the floor. Documents to be signed, a stapler, writing implements, nothing was safe!
But that meant W’s tail wasn’t safe, either. The Doctor grabbed it out of the air and gave it a stern yank, causing W to squeak behind her gag and blindfold, arching her back and spreading her thighs just a little more for the man behind her. The Doctor then circled his desk to see that W’s chest was rising and falling with her heavy breathing, and drool had trickled out of the gag and run down the length of her pale, slender neck, soaking into her charcoal-colored shirt.
Just the sight alone was enough to get the Doctor excited. He hadn’t had time to enjoy himself this week, especially with W being the nuisance that she was. This seemed as golden an opportunity as they came.
He didn’t touch W’s blindfold, nor did he touch the gag in her mouth. He didn’t even touch the taut ropes and binds that kept her spread-legged atop his desk, since he needed her exactly where he wanted her. No, instead, the Doctor pressed two of his fingers against W’s red panties, right through the hole in her black pantyhose.
W stiffened straightaway, arching her back with a sudden whimper like she didn’t expect that. The Doctor kept one hand around her thin, spade-tipped tail, as though threatening to give it another hard yank if she tried to whip him with it. “Red panties, huh?” The Doctor snorted. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but they look great on you, W…”
The Sarkaz could tell that the Doctor was getting excited. She didn’t have to look at him to figure that out—she could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he put his hands on her. The Doctor could see she was blushing just then; a spread of red against those typically pale cheeks of hers. He became fixated on the way her chest rose and fell as she took deep lungfuls of air through her nose, on account of her mouth being occupied by the gag, and drool continued to trickle out of her sealed mouth and down the length of her slender neck, further staining that shirt of hers while she fidgeted and groaned from her place atop the Doctor’s office desk.
The Doctor’s pants suddenly felt too tight. His cock throbbed in his boxers and trousers, and the tension returned quickly as he realized he could use the woman sitting and bound right in front of him to deal with the pressure he faced. W would make for good stress relief—it was decided.
He let her know exactly what he had in mind by rotating her on the desk to better face him, making W squeak again as she wobbled atop the man’s workstation. From there, all the Doctor had to do was bring his hand back to the tear in her pantyhose, and he yanked her crimson underwear to the side to expose that pretty pink pussy of hers.
W immediately started thrashing again.
“Mmff!! Mm-mmfff! Mm-mmfff-mmm!! Mm-mmffmfmfmm!”
Even if she could speak in any language that made sense, W’s cries fell on deaf ears. The Doctor was too aroused to stop now, and with his office door locked, he could proceed—comfortable knowing that he wouldn’t be interrupted at a time like this.
“Fuck,” he muttered, staring hard at W’s pussy while he kept her panties pulled to the side. He brought his other hand to her sodden snatch and started playing with it, running two of his fingertips along the slit of W’s oh-so enticing entrance.
W growled behind her gag, but it was a growl that melted into a moan as the Doctor started tracing the rim of her pussy with his fingers. She continued to fidget and kick up a fuss, even knocking a few more things to the Doctor’s desk with further clatters, but she would settle down, eventually. The Doctor simply had to bring on the fun.
“You’re already so wet,” he noticed. “Maybe whoever tied you up like this knew you’d like it?”
Naturally, the Doctor couldn’t understand the responses that W gave him. Not through those groans and muffled moans of hers. He continued to play with her pussy nonetheless, using one hand to keep her panties pulled to the side while he started rubbing her exposed clit, using his gloved hands for something they were not supposed to do as Rhodes Island’s Doctor.
Soon, W filled the room with her lustful groans and moans, and she started bucking against the Doctor’s hands to get herself off. The Doctor wouldn’t let her cum that easily, however, and he smiled evilly as he relished W’s whine once he pulled his hands away.
“What, you want more?” The Doctor smirked. “And what makes you think you deserve more, huh? What makes you think I’ll give it to you?”
He surprised himself with his own boldness. Having a devilishly attractive Sarkaz bound and gagged on your desk was liable to do that to you. He yanked up her shirt just then, exposing the Sarkaz’s matching red bra and making her blush even more intensely than she already was.
Oripathy lesions.
He didn’t realize she had them on her chest, too. W was one of Rhodes Island’s more infected operators, and while he knew of the jagged crystallization that took place on the ex-merc’s arm, he was surprised to see more signs of Oripathy dotted over the woman’s right breast and just above her navel.
Was the Doctor staring with reverence, or uncertainty? All W knew was that he was staring at all; she could practically feel his eyes on her body. Her skin kept its flush coloring as W jutted her chest out for the Doctor to keep touching her, quietly whimpering and groaning with something that sounded like shame—but for what? Was W self-conscious of the Oripathy lesions that kissed her form? Somehow, it didn’t feel right, but W was a woman after all. She had needs and desires just like any other.
The Doctor reached out and touched the Originium crystal sticking out of her skin, just beneath her breast. W shuddered—but not from the cold.
“Mmfmf… Mmm… Mm-hmm…” Drool ran down her neck in transparent rivulets. “Mm-mmf-mm, mm, mm-hmm. Mmff-mm…”
“Didn’t get a single word of that,” the Doctor joked.
W growled again and whipped at the Doctor’s head with the end of her tail, prompting the Doctor to snatch that tendril and give it another hard yank. As expected, the motion made W squeal once more, and her panties became even damper than they already were.
“Behave yourself,” the Doctor ordered. “Listen to your Doctor.”
W grumbled, though she seemed to calm down a little when the Doctor continued to touch those crystals on her skin. The one above her navel seemed especially sensitive, since W arched her back and groaned whenever the Doctor poked and prodded it. It defied explanation, but this demeanor suited the Sarkaz somehow. Although she rarely displayed it, she possessed a certain charm that could make her look cute when she desired.
“And the Doctor loves to touch,” he mumbled, running his hands all over W’s abs and tummy, getting up close and personal with the physique he’d always admired from afar. W continued to communicate exclusively with muffled moans and groans as the Doctor ran his hands all over her, taking care to play with the body he’d always wanted to put his hands on. Whoever placed W in this precarious situation deserved his utmost thanks.
He slid his gloved hands over W’s tight body, relishing her toned form and feeling up the muscle she put on display for him. She tensed—perhaps without meaning to—and the Doctor dug his thumbs firmly on either side of her belly button, downright hypnotized by the slight squish before his very eyes.
Whenever he touched one of the Oripathy lesions on her skin—as carefully as he could, so as to not cause her actual long-term harm—W would curl her body this way and that, humming and moaning with apparent appreciation, her skin staying flush as the Doctor explored her body with those gloved, greedy hands of his.
There wasn’t just Oripathy lesions and crystallization to contend with, either. W’s body was a testament to strength and strife. She’d been fighting all her life, and the array of marks and scars along her physical form told innumerable stories of violence and hatred. She had no freckles; not really. Instead, the canvas of W’s body was pockmarked with stars. Brushstrokes of bloodshed, vectors of vitriol, azimuths of acrimony, and constellations of contempt.
The Doctor hadn’t been the one to give her a full and proper medical exam. That was Warfarin, or perhaps Dr. Kal’tsit. Had he been the one to give her a legitimate physical, he would have noticed all this a long, long time ago. Here and now, it was like the Doctor was seeing W—really seeing her—for the first time.
The preceding lust threatened to blossom into something much, much worse. She sensed his hesitation, because she started to tilt her head and give an inquisitive hum. Naturally, she couldn’t see him through her blindfold—but even if the blindfold wasn’t there, it wasn’t like she could get a read on his emotions through the mask he always wore.
It gave him an idea, and seconds later, the Doctor was laying that same mask on the edge of his workstation. He welcomed a lungful of fresh air before he dipped down to drag his hot, wet tongue along W’s quivering bosom, and the sensation of a sudden tongue against her body was enough to have her squeaking and curling for more.
She definitely didn’t expect that. Her blush grew more intense as she struggled to keep herself in check; prevent the embarrassing noises from spilling out of that gag. In the end, it was a fruitless effort—especially when the Doctor was gliding his tongue along the surface of her creamy, pockmarked body, relishing the slight change in texture whenever he licked the scars on her tummy, or the blemishes from the years gone by.
“Mmmf… mmffhh… mmhgh… mm-hmm, mm-hmm!” W nodded desperately as the Doctor kissed and licked her body in something close to worship. Not quite worship, he thought. She didn’t deserve reverence. Did she even deserve this? His thoughts were boiling in his brain; he couldn’t control himself, how could he hope to control a firebrand like her?
Something on his desk. He was frantic for it suddenly. Searching, searching, and then he found it: a letter opener. Unsheathed, then up against her skin. Cold, so cold; a flash of the blade. She actually gasped behind the gag and stiffened up before the Doctor cut the bra right off her body; let her massive tits hang free.
Yes, they were tits. She wasn’t good enough for breasts; this was a body of sin and sensuality, promises of pleasure. He grabbed her tits and made her squeak again submissively, dragging his tongue against her skin and growling like he was the beast now. Insatiable. Yearning.
He groped and kneaded her tits with zeal, long since unable to keep his hands off her. W groaned and arched her back toward the Doctor as the man touched her and played with her body; as he dragged his tongue along her skin, kissed the particularly sensitive Oripathy crystal daringly, and relished the sound of her muffled moans and coos.
He squeezed her tits all the while, cherishing the give of flesh beneath his fingertips. Her massive chest seemed tailor made for manhandling, maybe even milking.
“Bigger than I thought,” the Doctor mused, pressing another ardent kiss against one of the Sarkaz’s most sensitive spots: the little Originium crystal still sticking out above her tummy. W mewled and bucked her hips, once again missing the Doctor’s fingers against her pussy. She seemed desperate to be touched down there, but the Doctor wasn’t finished kissing and licking the Sarkaz’s beautiful, lusty body. Not by a long shot.
He draaaaaaagged his tongue slowly, languidly, with practiced precision across W’s tummy and across the marks she had from her navel to her pectorals. Her muscles were downright gorgeous, and the Doctor loved to taste them. To taste her. He knew W spent quite a bit of time in the Rhodes Island training rooms. Clearly, all her discipline hadn’t gone to waste.
Then again, considering how thick her thighs seemed to be…
…was she always this heavyset?
He had half a mind to tease her about indulging in too much of the cafeteria food, but frankly, he was appalled that it all seemed to go right to her ass and not her gut. So she spent time at the gym and at the cafeteria tables? How did she get a body like this?
Or, perhaps… was she always this appealing? This delectable?
Doctor slid his hands down W’s body to her legs, giving them a stern squish through her black pantyhose, admiring the way her thighs squished beneath his touch.
He leaned forward to bring his lips up to her ear. Then he whispered up against her flushed skin.
“Your body is so fucking erotic… I should have done this a long time ago.”
He thought he heard a snort coming from behind that gag. Did she find this amusing suddenly? Either way, the Doctor was pretty far from laughing. He wouldn’t laugh, he would use his mouth for something else altogether.
This time, he pinched the fabric of her pantyhose and made brand new holes in the elastic. One, two, three, four, five holes, and he stopped himself before he made any more; before he reduced the material to nothing. W trembled as the Doctor brought his tongue back to her skin, this time kissing and licking W’s thighs through the holes in her pantyhose, smooching and suckling against her skin with enough fervor to leave the evidence behind.
At the same time, he was content to continue kneading and fondling those giant tits of hers, his fingers sinking into her supple form while he kept her in her place. From her tits down to her abs, then over the surprising coarseness of her tummy, then finally down at her thighs. He growled with lust as he kissed her and squeezed her, molesting the mouthy ex-mercenary as though he’d done this a hundred times before.
And W ate it up. She groaned and moaned and mewled like the toy she might as well have been—reactive and submissive in her sounds and shifting. The Doctor surprised her again by yanking her thighs apart suddenly, then digging his tongue into her juicy cunt like he was trying to drink deeply of the well-endowed woman, already moaning just from her flavor. Her spine-tingling taste.
W moaned and thrashed, once again bucking her hips toward the Doctor, seeking to grind her soaking wet snatch against the man’s lips and tongue. She couldn’t get enough of the pleasure that he tongue-fucked into her, and she filled the office with the sounds of her muffled moans and grunts.
Meanwhile, the Doctor was keen to continue indulging. He dragged his tongue up W’s sodden pussy and lapped up all the juiced that trickled out of her hot, wet hole, even curling his tongue up so that the warm tip flicked against her clitoral hood. He continued to enjoy her with his tongue straight through the hole in her pantyhose, moaning and slurping with reckless abandon as he groped and kneaded those full thighs of hers.
Eventually, the Doctor slid his hands up to W’s boxy, childbearing hips, and he squeezed her like he was trying to wring her dry. Like she was some fruit to be savored; to quench his thirst. She leaned back and panted as she tried to keep from falling off the table, and the best way to do that was for W to drape her legs over the Doctor’s shoulders, moaning aloud and leaking more drool from the gag that stayed buried in her mouth.
The Doctor pulled away suddenly, smacking his lips and sighing with relief. His cock ached for pleasure, but he wasn’t done tending to the Sarkaz firebrand just yet. The man couldn’t keep his hands to himself; he went back to fondling her tits and started pinching her nipples, causing W to squeal with zeal; to arch and twist and thrash with such a violent fervor that she knocked a few more things off the Doctor’s workstation. The laptop was the last thing to go. She knocked it cleanly off his desk with a sudden swipe of her tail, and it clattered loudly once it landed on the floor, turning off all of a sudden.
“You fucking brat,” the Doctor breathed, tweaking W’s nipples so roughly that she cried aloud through her gag. Still, the Doctor was relentless. He twisted her nipples and even smacked her bulbous tits like they were practice sandbags.
Then W reached orgasm.
It happened so suddenly that the Doctor was surprised. He went back to groping and kneading her tits, but the Sarkaz had already been pushed over the edge. She squirted right through the hole in her pantyhose, further devastating the torn legwear and marinating it in her warm juices. The Doctor growled again as he reached up and grabbed a handful of W’s hair, using his other hand to push (lightly!) against the crystal on her tummy.
“Did I give you permission to cum?” he asked.
W desperately shook her head no, leaking from both pairs of lips as saliva dripped through the gag in her mouth. Sweat beaded off her forehead as she sucked air in through her nose, the blindfold damp with transpiration and maybe a few tears, to boot.
What followed was that W heard the sound of a zipper being unzipped, and the shuffling of clothing. She couldn’t see what the Doctor was doing, but she absolutely felt what happened next. The Doctor pressed the head of his thick, meaty cock up against her dripping wet pussy, and she shuddered as she felt the man’s thickness up against her snatch.
“Now it’s time for more correction,” said the Doctor. “I’ll show you a real explosion…”
And just like that, the Doctor sheathed his cock inside of W’s hot, snug pussy. The Sarkaz arched her back immediately and thrashed against her bindings, curling forward and mewling like she couldn’t get enough of this. Fortunately for her, the Doctor was just getting started.
He kept his hands on her hips and started thrusting immediately, looming over W and groaning as his hips crashed against her own, over and over again. The pleasure was so paramount that he couldn’t stop the moans from spilling out of his mouth, and he leaned in close to drag his tongue against her neck, his hips moving in tandem with his oral motions.
Meanwhile, W was utterly helpless beneath the Doctor’s splendid thrusts. She couldn’t move her arms, and she could just barely move her legs. Even if she could move, however, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here. It was clear from the noises she made that she loved being fucked by him; adored being taken in this position, unable to see or touch the man who was putting her in her place. The sense of submission was utterly exhilarating, and W continued to moan and drool as she quivered while the Doctor pounded her with his thick cock.
“That’s it,” the Doctor growled. “That’s it, fuck, God, you feel so good, W… ugh, I can’t get enough of this…!”
“MMMMFFF!! MMMMPPHH! MMHG MMFH MMMMPPHH MFF MMPHMMM!!”
Then the Doctor pulled right back out of her pussy. Left her wanting. Desperate for it. Judging from her sounds and motions, the poor Sarkaz was going to lose her mind.
The Doctor smirked as he grabbed his cock and smacked it against W’s wet, sensitive pussy. He wanted to indulge her for as long as possible. The climax would be all the sweeter if he held himself back.
In the meantime, the Doctor opened his desk drawer and found a toy suitable for the situation at hand—one he hoped still had working batteries since it hadn’t seen use in a hot minute. He flipped the switch on the vibrator and, grinning as it hummed to life, he pressed the buzzing toy against W’s leaking pussy, prompting the Sarkaz to moan and hump the jittery dildo with reckless abandon.
“That’s it. Show me,” ordered the Doctor. “Show me how bad you want it, you little slut!”
W nodded desperately and did exactly that, humping the toy whenever the Doctor brought it close, and even wrapping her thin tail around its base so she could bring it right against her pussy. For W, the pleasure was immense. Spine-tingling, toe-curling pleasure. The gag and blindfold meant that two of her senses were muted, and so the others were much, much stronger. Here and now, W focused on the sounds she was making; the ones she couldn’t stop from leaking out from between her pretty little lips. She also focused on the sound of the buzzing sex toy between her thighs, and the Doctor’s confident chuckling.
He slapped his heavy cock against her quivering thigh, and all it did was make her hornier. She nudged the vibrator aside with her tail and instead wrapped it around the base of his cock, pulling the Doctor’s dick back into her greedy, soaked pussy.
The Doctor grunted as he was pushed back inside her. “Can’t get enough, can you?” His hands found her tits again, and he returned to groping them and twisting her nipples as he pumped his hips back and forth, lancing W over and over again with his thick dick, penetrating her folds as deeply as he could while she bumped and ground against him, full of desperation.
The office desk creaked and squeaked beneath their bodies as the Doctor held W close and fucked her right on top of it, grunting and moaning as he put her in her place. She continued to moan and squeal as she thrashed on top of his desk, throughly soaking the spot beneath her hips and ass with her juices as she trembled from all the barely contained lust and ardor.
“Fuck,” the Doctor grunted. “Fuck yeah, you feel so good, W…”
“Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!! Mmmmpphh!” W nodded again desperately as the Doctor dominated her; as he pulled her tail and kept another hand on her thigh, squeezing her lustful body since he couldn’t get enough of its feel.
“You’ve been, ngh, pissing me the fuck off all week,” the Doctor growled, picking up the pace as he fucked W against his creaking, wet workstation. Nearly every thrust made W groan and squeal. This was typical of her. She was a bad girl who got caught, and now she was dealing with the fallout—but who knew the fallout could feel so freeing? So lustful, so wanton?
“You’ve, hah, annoyed me… annoyed everyone… and now you’re f-fucking GETTING it!” The Doctor slammed his hips against W more sternly now, fucking her with such vim and vigor that her entire body jiggled with each slam, from her massive tits to her gorgeous, full thighs. Sweat continued to bead and roll down the ex-mercenary’s body in rivulets, and the Doctor was just as hot and aroused as she was. He brought his head back down to kiss and lick those scars of hers, paying extra special attention to those Originium crystals that stuck out of her body.
Not a single person had ever so much as touched W’s scars and crystals if they weren’t giving her some unwanted medical treatment. The notion of being treated like a sex toy while the Doctor touched her like this—took command of her body and all its perceived imperfections—made her shake in her very core. She reached another breathtaking orgasm as she let herself go, spilling all over the desk, the Doctor, and herself. The Doctor screwed her with such intensity that the blindfold had come loose, disheveled like the rest of her, from the pale hair that clung to her sweat-stained forehead, to the broken bra and the ruination of her clothes.
Until, eventually, the blindfold came so loose that it fell off her face, exposing those sharp red-orange eyes of hers that were suddenly so full of wonder and daring that the Doctor found himself lost in the flames of her hues.
W cracked a wide, evil smile.
Then, with renewed enthusiasm, she began to struggle and writhe against the Doctor’s wishes, pushing herself this way and that, slapping her tail against his body, yet still moaning and groaning through the gag in her mouth as she spoke to him with just the look on her face. A look that said: do it. Fuck me up. Break me, Doctor. You want to break me so badly, just do it.
“Don’t give me that look,” the Doctor said with a growl. It was a rough and cathartic affair as W teased him with that body and expression of hers, even while the Doctor railed the Sarkaz against his office desk. He had to turn up the domination if he wanted to come out on top here. He had to put this little temptress back in her place.
And so, that’s exactly what the Doctor did. He dipped down and pressed his tongue flat against the ridged, jagged surface of the Oripathy lesion that stuck out of W’s body, and the woman shuddered as she found herself helpless beneath the man’s ministrations. He rubbed her full thighs and gave them another hard squish as he pounded her with all the force he could muster, damn near breaking the desk beneath W’s body as she screamed and cried behind the muffling gag.
No doubt if someone passed by the Doctor’s office here and now, they’d hear the most concerning sounds they might ever hear in all their life. Sounds of violence, struggle, lust, jubilation… and, also, skin on skin. Repetitious wet slaps, passionate panting, rhythmic creaking, desperate whimpering, and quiet cursing. The Doctor reached up and wrapped a hand around W’s neck, and he squeezed tightly enough to make the Sarkaz’s eyes go wide.
Then, W clenched her eyes shut just as quickly, reaching yet another orgasm just when the Doctor reached his own. The bratty Sarkaz wrapped her legs around the Doctor’s waist and pulled him in as closely as he could come, and she sputtered mindlessly through her soaking wet gag as she felt—somehow—like the tip of the Doctor’s dick had somehow reached her womb.
Then he started cumming, blasting that womb of hers with his hot and gooey load of spunk, letting himself go with a loud groan as he burst inside of the Sarkaz bound and gagged on his desk. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head from the sheer sensation and pleasure of the Doctor finishing inside of her; pumping her full to bursting with heat and comfort and satisfaction. There was nothing else in the world like this. Nothing at all, except perhaps having her Oripathy lesions handled like they were. Already the Sarkaz was desperate for a round two, three, perhaps even round ten…
…but only if and when her body would allow it. Here and now, W felt spent. She might have fallen back onto the Doctor’s desk if she didn’t hold him by the waist with her legs, locking him in place as he packed the rest of his steamy load inside her hot and fertile pussy, where it belonged. The Doctor groaned with pleasure as he gave W a stern nudge. Seconds later, the two collapsed in a heap onto the carpeted office floor. There was just no saving it.
“Fucking—shit!” The Doctor whirled back to rip the gag off W’s mouth, surprising the Sarkaz with how sharp and sudden he’d been. She opened her mouth—either to gasp, moan, or spit an insult—but the Doctor was faster this time. He forced his cock into the bratty Sarkaz’s mouth, reaching the back of her throat as he put a hand on her snow-white locks of hair.
“Suck it,” he ordered. “Clean the fucking mess you made… right now—fuck.”
She giggled. The bitch actually giggled as she nodded, her mouth full of meat as she worked her tongue over and along the length of the Doctor’s shaft, at last doing what she was told with a knowing wink before she took the man’s cock all the way down her hot, wet, snug throat…
…held him there, wiggling her head and slurping greedily, sensitivity be damned…
…and then…
Pop!
She panted just when she finished, giving the tip of the Doctor’s dick a charming little kiss.
“So,” she remarked, flicking her tongue against the man’s shaft now and then, “hah… you finally grew a spine, huh…?”
“You planned all this?” He’d figured.
“You know me better than you think, Doctor…” She wrapped her lips around the head of the Doctor’s cock before sliding her hot tongue over every vein that she could find. Frankly, she wanted to explore his body with her tongue, just as he did with her. It excited her more than she ever fantasized about.
“I got tired of being subtle,” she revealed. “I thought you’d be a lost cause… if you didn’t do something when I was literally spread open on your god-damned desk.”
“Loosening the screws in my office chair is not subtle!” The Doctor retorted.
W snickered deviously, her spade-tipped tail swaying back and forth behind her. She nuzzled her cheek against his cock before speaking again. “I finally got what I was after,” she told him. “And it took a week of,” she paused to cough, rubbing her bruised neck, “being a bad girl.”
The Doctor bit his lip. “Are you… okay?”
“Am I okay?” W almost cackled. “Are you okay?”
“I feel… fuck, I feel better now than I have in a long, long time,” the Doctor said honestly.
“Congrats, genius. That’s the point!”
“Goddamn it, W… you… you…!”
“Brat?” W batted her eyelashes at the man, clearly reveling in this. “Bitch? Or do you want to call me your slut again? Take your pick—I don’t mind. But I don’t do weekends. A girl’s gotta have some personal time, you know?”
The Doctor snorted. “What, are you saying we… we make this a regular thing?”
“I’m saying we make this a regular thing, or I’m going to crank the dial on the bitchometer up to 11.”
“It already was on 11!”
“Then I’ll put it on 12!” W coughed again, and she rubbed her neck with a wince. “Phew, damn, Doctor, you can really—!”
“Hey, hang on! Who the hell tied you up, anyway?”
W smiled ruefully. “Oh,” she said, “that? Don’t worry about it. They wanted to stay in the shadows—for now.”
“For now?” The Doctor was incredulous. “What does that mean?”
“It means you shouldn’t worry about it.”
“I am worrying about it.”
W beamed. “Just fuck me instead! I actually like it when you give me those kinds of orders, alright? Don’t make me over explain, it’s a serious mood-killer.”
The Doctor was about to open his mouth to protest, but W was the faster of the two this time. She took the Doctor’s cock back into her mouth and continued to suck him clean, using her tail to poke and prod at his balls, waggling her eyebrows in the process.
The Doctor didn’t know what to think. Somehow, he felt like a loser and like a winner in this scenario. It was truly mind-boggling to think things had reached such a point. Yet, even so…
The Doctor of Rhodes Island wasn’t typically one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but when W started deepthroating his cock to help him settle into their new relationship, he had to admit he was more than a little astonished.
“Fuck… okay… fine!”
He grabbed her by the head with both hands, suddenly, and he started pumping his hips back and forth. W smiled as she gagged and moaned around the Doctor’s dick, taking his thrusts with evident ecstasy as she sucked and slurped all over his dick, polishing his manhood with her lips and tongue.
“You still wanna act up? After everything you’re putting me through?!” The Doctor growled, his balls slapping against W’s drool-soaked chin as he pounded her mouth with reckless abandon. “I’ll remodel your fucking throat, you little slut!”
W moaned like a whore, nodding gratefully as she took the Doctor’s thrusts. The office became filled with the sounds of wet slurping and gleeful gagging—noises so loud that neither W nor the Doctor heard the footsteps just outside the door, leaving the two “lovers” to their own devices thenceforth.