I Examine And Dominate My Ex-boyfriend (4)
She shrugs out of her coat first, letting the crisp fabric slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor, her eyes never leaving mine.
The blouse follows, lifted over her head in one elegant motion. It catches briefly on her hair before falling away, revealing the curve of her torso beneath the snug black bra now paired with the high-cut panties.
It’s not just her body that captivates, it’s the raw dangerous energy radiating from her.
Her hands finally reach for the bra, undoing it with practiced ease before trailing down to the panties and teasing them off slowly until she’s entirely bare.
She stands before me, every curve exposed, poised, terrifying and unbearably beautiful.
Every glance a promise I can’t refuse.
“I need to make sure you never forget this touch again,” she says, her voice low and husky, entirely devoid of the cold clinical tone. “And you’re going to keep shut, Dean. You don’t speak unless I give you permission.”
I nod slightly and swallow hard. The word ‘Yes’ forms in my mind but never leaves my lips.
My hands twitch, itching to reach for her yet I stay still, trembling with the need she commands me to suppress.
The rest of the clinic is quiet.
Or maybe my ears just refuse to hear anything else.
I glance at the door, my stomach tightening.
What if someone comes in?
She notices. A small, knowing smile flickers across her face. She crosses the room and turns the lock with a soft click.
The sound is far too small for what it means.
She moves to the edge of the exam table and lifts one leg, hooking her heel onto the cool stainless steel side rail. A pose of arrogant, absolute ownership.
Her gaze pins me in place. “Take off your shirt,” she orders, her voice low and commanding.
I reach up and pull my shirt over my head, my hands trembling slightly.
My dick twitches hard, aching, and shamefully ready. I catch the flash of satisfaction in her eyes and I know she sees my utter betrayal.
Rough hands pull me forward until my face is buried against her inner thigh. Her skin is soft, intoxicating, and entirely overwhelming.
For a second I forget where we are. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the smell of antiseptic fills the room and the faint ticking of the clock fades into silence. Only her rough, uneven breathing fills the space.
My body shudders, torn between guilt and hunger.
“Tell me you’re mine,” she demands, forcing my head up.
My hand rise to her thighs and my ring catches the light—a flash of gold against her skin. The sight punches something ugly into my gut, reminding me who I promised to love… but the word still breaks free before I can stop it.
“I’m yours,” I choke out. My cheeks burn with shame, yet every nerve screams that I want this, that I needed it.
“Now eat,” she orders, the words slicing through the air.
I obey, my tongue tracing the damp, swollen folds of her pussy. The taste of her feels like a drug—intense, familiar, and completely forbidden, and the worst part is how my body remembers her before my conscience even has a chance to protest.
My hands clutch her thighs. I pull her closer. Every heartbeat pounds as I lose myself in her heat, desperate to worship her and driven by need I can’t control.
She arches against me, a soft moan slipping past her lips. I grind harder, my face drenched in her, swallowing her juices greedily.
I press my tongue against her clit, circling and flicking relentlessly.
Her hands settle on the back of my head, pressing me firmly against her.
Her breath breaks against my skin rough and uneven like she’s fighting the pleasure instead of surrendering to it.
A few seconds later, her voice softens, a quiet crack in it. “You left me… you broke me, Dean.”
I can’t stop the sadness that coils in my chest. I know I ruined everything. But how could I tell her I was a coward? That I couldn’t face the shame, the guilt, and all the mess this kink dragged behind me?
Her grip on my hair eases slightly. “And see where it got us.”
The confession lands softer than anything she’s ever said to me… like she’s fighting herself for control.
But I don’t stop.
For a moment her eyes soften, a flicker of pain passing through them. Then she blinks and straightens as if she’s slipping back her armor.
Her next breath is a shuddering inhale, as if she can’t decide whether to sob or come.
She bucks against me, gasping sharply.
“Ahh! Ohhh!”
Her thighs tremble, gripping my head, and each shudder of her hips presses me deeper.
“Mmh! Yes!”
Her moans rise, ragged and urgent, filling the small space as she rides my mouth.
“Fuck!” she screams as warm urine splashes across my face. I taste her on my lips, letting the heat roll over me. She leans closer, pressing down just enough to remind me who’s in control.
I’m shivering under her dominance, drinking her with my senses, feeling the press of her hips, the tension in her thighs, the tremor in her body as she rides my face.
Her gasps and sharp breaths fill the room, pushing me further into submission.
Then she pulls back slightly, straightening.
“That’s enough,” she states, her voice calm but commanding, pushing me back onto my knees.
She takes her leg off the table and walks toward the other end. Then picks up the tube of sterile lubricant and turns, her eyes fixing on my straining erection.
“I want you on the table now, face up,” she commands. “Remember how I told you that you’d do exactly as I say?”
I nod, climbing onto the table and lie back, my chest rising fast, every inch of me on display under her gaze.
She climbs onto the table and kneels astride me, one leg on either side of my torso. My erection presses against her stomach as her hips hover near my face.
“Don’t move,” she murmurs, shifting backwards until her cunt is just inches from my face, close enough that a few drops from earlier land on my lips.
Her control presses down with every splash and I can do nothing but stay still, tasting each warm drop.
“Welcome back, Dean,” she whispers, her voice cracking with fierce, possessive intensity. “I have your favorite toys in my bag,” she informs me. “But you have to earn them. You know the rules… I control the pleasure, I control the pain, and I decide the release.”
The bottle cap clicks open, echoing softly.
She meets my gaze for a heartbeat, a trace of softness passing through her expression once more, but then the mask of control snaps back into place.
If only I could read her mind.
“You owe me, Dean,” she says as she pours a slick trail into her palms, then spreads it over her pussy with slow, deliberate strokes, slicking herself until the shine looks obscene. The wet sound fills the room.
“Finish up here… then you can have the toys. I can’t deny I’ve missed your mouth on my pussy.”
My throat tightens, anticipation clawing through me even though I want to beg her to stop, to forgive me… but I can’t. The part of me that missed her has already surrendered.
"Your mouth, Dean. Now."
I shove myself up, burying my face in cunt. Her fingers reach out and curl around my cock, coating me in slippery warmth, squeezing in slow, methodical strokes that make my hips jerk of their own accord.
My tongue and fingers work on her pussy at the same time, each press of my lips making her cry out. Every part of me aches with need as her rhythm pushes me closer to the edge I can’t reach.
“Don’t think this is for you, Dean,” she hisses, her breathing ragged as she nears her release. “This is for me.”
“Please,” I gasp, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
She grinds her hips down against my mouth, shuddering hard as her muscles clamp around me. Her grip on my cock tightens, then relaxes, and I feel her tremble in release.
I groan, my entire being screaming for the release she won't grant. She is smiling again; the cold, beautiful smile of a woman who knows she holds all the power.
“Time for the next level,” she says, sliding off me. The loss of her weight hits like a cold shock. The air feels heavier without her on me. My skin still burns where she touched but shame rushes in fast, filling the space she leaves behind.
This is insane.
This is definitely insane. What the fuck am I doing?
I lie there, chest rising too fast.
Part of me wants to run. The rest wants to stay glued to this table until she’s done with me.
She crosses the room in slow, practiced steps. Every motion says the same thing: wait for it, suffer for it.
The silence between us stretches heavily. My pulse won’t slow. Somewhere under the noise of my heartbeat, I hear the voices of people in the hall.
The world outside still exists, even if I’m pretending it doesn’t.
For a split second, Chloe pauses by the counter. Her reflection in the steel cabinet looks stern and hollow.
Then she straightens her spine.
She kneels beside her bag and rummages inside, the soft rustle of materials amplifying the silence.
My pulse spikes, dreading what comes next but craving it at the same time.
When she stands, she is holding three items: a thick, plush velvet restraint, a sleek silver vibrator and a whip.
My breath catches.
There’s no stopping this. Not now. Not ever.
The sight of her holding the toys sears into me like something I’ll never forget.