drwhitly | Closed to formersurgeon

Closed to formersurgeon

Martin Whitly had made a deal with the devil, but he was completely content with that. He had to fake his death with the help of a wealthy professional and relocate to a whole new town. It was still a luxurious lifestyle he was brought into but fairly confined. He would still be used for his skills as a surgeon and a killer, but be paid and housed for it.

He had to wait a few weeks after pretending to be dead - he was sure by then that his ex wife had flushed his ashes down a toilet by this point - before seeking Joan out. He was escorted by the people who had managed to get him out of Claremont and located the place that she had shared with this Sherlock fellow.

He could have spent hours looking through the things collected there, but found his way to her room and stayed there. It wouldn’t do him much good to be spotted by her roommate. His appearance was cleaned up despite his age still showing on his face, but his hair was in better shape. He was still unmistakably him even if he wore a disguise the majority of the time he was in public.

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“Somewhat,” he admitted causally, smirking in response. “I was more focused on your perfect ass than anything.” As if magnetically, his hand was instantly drawn to grab her from behind and give her a playful squeeze.

Taking the nylons from her, he reached for her wrists. “I hope you’re not attached to these.” Spoken as he took her delicate wrists together and secured them tightly with the nylons; never asking if it was painful or too tight. With that he led her by the restraints to be secured to the bed’s headboard. He paused then as if to admire his own handiwork.

She yelped a little in surprise and amusement as he squeezed her ass, and grinned at him as she offered her wrists. "Not attached to the nylons or not attached to my wrists?" she asked playfully. "I can buy more nylons." He didn't ask her if they were painful or tight, which was a little concerning, but she felt that he would listen to her if she asked him to loosen them. She followed where he led her, raising her hands above her head to allow him to secure her. She tugged gently on her bonds, testing the stretch. They were tight, but she felt that she could probably pull herself free in an emergency.

She looked up at him and smiled, then began to gently writhe against the bonds, a playful sort of struggle.

Martin didn’t think twice when he tied her up. “Exactly.” Nylons were replaceable.

He leaned back to take in the sight of her, ivory skin with dark hair, her Asian features making her extraordinarily alluring to him. “You truly are something else.” He exhaled, enjoying the sight a bit longer. His open hands found her knees and slid up her slender thighs. He leaned forward and seemed to briefly bow to her, kissing that skin softly on her inner left thigh.

“Feel free to do that-“ he commented on her playful pretend struggle. It was a bit more of a hint when his gaze caught hers and seemed to show some of his deviousness.

His attraction was palpable, and she loved it.

"You're one of a kind, yourself," she purred. When his hands touched her knees, she opened them just slightly, invitingly, and drew a breath as his lips pressed to her thigh, her eyes drifting closed.

They opened again at his words, and she looked down at him, meeting those devious eyes. She smiled back, slow and sly.

"You like that?" she murmured, and writhed a little more, allowing her expression to look a mix of pleasured and pained.

“I do,” he answered her question both with words and his body as he slid up to meet her, his cock hard and wanting. Taking hold of his cock, he rubbed the swollen head along her slit to tease her.

His free hand slid up and found her throat, his eyes locking onto hers. His hand was the perfect size for her slender neck and it seemed fragile as he felt her pulse beneath her skin.

“You know,” he mused “if you breathe faster and harder, your climax comes faster-“ his hand teased a little squeeze to her source of air. “It’s a bit similar to autoerotic asphyxiation.”

God the feeling of his cock rubbing against her wet, swollen labia was amazing, and she moaned, her hips yearning upwards in need.

Then his hand went around her throat, and she swallowed, her heartrate ticking up, her pulse fluttering against his hand. She was so vulnerable, at the mercy of this dangerous man. It was terrifying.

And extremely hot.

He squeezed, and she made a small, desperate sound.

"Hyperventilation," she said, a slight rasp audible in her voice. "Reduces the flow of blood to the brain." She smiled faintly. "Just like your hand."

“That’s exactly right,” he grinned finding it always pleasant to be reminded that she was once a surgeon like him. He added just a tiny bit more pressure with his hand to her throat; suggesting that he had ideas but would keep her on edge about when he would truly strike.

Slowly, he rolled his hips up to only penetrate the head of his cock past her hot opening. He was breathing heavily, maintaining his balance for the ordeal, but closely watching her face for every reactions.

Oh, that little, subtle tightening of his hand around her throat was delicious, and a soft moan slipped from her lips. She gazed up at him, studying his face just as closely, loving the pleasure she saw there and watching with both fervor and apprehension for a hint of when that hand would clamp her throat closed.

He penetrated her, just slightly, and she groaned, her need becoming all the sharper for the small taste he was giving her. She lifted her hips, chasing sensation, starving for more.

Martin was pleased with that groan; it signaled that they were most certainly both enjoying this greatly.

The corners of his lips curled when he felt her body move, revealing her hunger for him. He had to hold all of the control, naturally, and pulling back, his cock now just barely touching her, he displayed that she would know her place before he rewarded her. His eyes locked with hers the entire time, was all the communication he would give her.

She groaned again, understanding that action, that withholding in response to her trying to take what she wanted. She knew he desired control, insisted on it. She was beneath him, tied down, his hand at her throat, almost completely at his mercy...and he was making it clear that he would not proceed unless she surrendered that "almost."

Her eyes locked on his, she nodded slowly. She'd surrender to him.

"Please," she whispered.

“Good girl,” he whispers inches from her ear seeing that she had caught his meaning. Her submission was a drug for him. With his hand still steady on her throat, he lined himself up with her slick opening, just feeling her heat for a pause moment before entering her.

His own breath hitched as if it had been for the first time as he felt her wrap around him. His grip on her throat tightened once more as if out of reflex once he began to roll his hips and find a slow but steady pace.

She closed her eyes and shivered at those two words whispered in her ear, swallowing again against that hand. This was so contrary to the role she usually took in bed, equal at least, dominant at most. To be the submissive party was strange and frightening and intoxicating, her body flooded with adrenaline. She groaned again as he slid into her, then opened her eyes and drew a rasping gasp as his hand tightened around her throat. She could really feel it now, having to work a little to breathe, the constricted blood flow and slight asphyxiation making her lightheaded.

She gazed at him as he began to fuck her, keeping herself from moving against him, offering her body up to him and drinking in the pleasure he was giving her with every roll of his hips.

He could feel her heart pace increasing as he clenched her throat, beginning to thrust in and out of her but keeping it at a steady pace. He enjoyed this very different position that illustrated what he wanted from her. Bound, held hostage with her access to air in his hands; it was Joan giving herself to him to play with. To take as he liked.

His breath was heavy as his own head fell over her shoulder, actively conscious of how much he allowed her to breathe; making sure she wouldn't pass out. He also kept in mind how much he would grind against her swollen clit, being certain that her pleasure was continuing to heighten.

He was rewarding her for her obedience with every grind against her needy clit, and it made her just as breathless as that dominating hand at her throat. But it was so, so hard to just lie there. He had liked it when she had writhed for him, so she experimented with it, just a slight writhe, a slight struggle beneath him, wondering how he'd react. Hoping he'd find it enticing.

Martin released a sort grunt mixed with a gasp as he felt her struggle beneath him. He more than found that enticing and his body reacted to it as if leaving his mind behind. The hand on her neck tightened and his other hand grabbed her ass, pulling a leg up to give him a deeper access to her. His hips seemed to become animalistic as he abandoned his attentions to her for hard rapid pumping inside of her. Teeth clenched, his gaze certainly changed from one of seeing her and instead saw something else.

She gasped at that sudden, severe transformation. Or at least she would have, if that hand hadn't tightened on her throat, making every breath a struggle. The man above her now was not Martin, the considerate lover. She strongly suspected that what she was looking at was the Surgeon, ready to ravish her and take what he wanted with no regard for her life. Or, more terrifying, a negative regard. She continued to struggle, still playacting, but on the edge of the panic becoming real. If it did, she would use the safe word...and hope there was enough of the considerate lover to hear and heed.

Joan was correct to have picked up on the switch. Martin was completely engulfed in the scenario they had set up. He was in total control of someone's life in that moment and it more than just aroused him sexually.

Her struggle added to the fantasy that he was truly taking what he wanted. The only extra element to add to this would have been a scalpel, but even he doubted that she would have agreed to that.

The more she struggled, the redder her face became, the more he lost sight of himself. However with that, he was speeding up and his thrusts became more and more aggressive, causing his grip on her throat to loosen just slightly. Yet, he picked up on her pulse increasing, making this feel all the more authentic.

"Yes-" he growled, still so focused on her face as he clenched his teeth, not letting up with how hard he was slamming into her.

Joan would definitely not have agreed to the scalpel. It was already on the edge of thrilling and terrifying to allow him to tie her down and wrap his hand around her throat. She was tempting the killer in him as it was...she was pretty sure a scalpel would significantly raise the chances that she wouldn't survive the experience.

The hand at her throat loosened, and she gasped in a breath and then groaned. Because quite against her better judgement she was enjoying this, how he was holding her down and fucking her hard, taking her so completely, animalistically, a claiming. Taking her, every bit of her, even her breath, her life, for his own.

She continued the struggle, crying out with every pant now as her own pleasure was whipped up every single time his hips slammed into hers.

Martin was completely entranced with the scenario they had constructed as he continued to drive all of his cock inside of her to the hilt. Hearing her cry out so close to his ear was thrilling but without hesitation, he released her hair and clamped down on her mouth and part of her nose, adding to the intensity while his hand was pressing firmly around her throat. He felt her pulse instinctively increase with the move.

And that was the final piece that pushed him over the edge. His climax nearly blindsided him, coming out hard and loud. He groaned as his eyes rolled back and he emptied himself inside of her. It lasted a few moments which was particularly long as he felt he had released far more than just an hour prior. Releasing her, he rolled over, pulling out and falling onto his back breathing heavy and completely covered in sweat, his gaze just looking out at nothing in particular.

He silenced her, and in a flash she saw him keeping her from screaming for help while he murdered her, and that pushed her over as well, her body arching beneath him, screaming against that hand at her throat, that hand over her mouth, her orgasm driven by pain and fear and asphyxiation. She shouldn't be aroused by those things, but oh god...

Then he was gone and she gasped again, her mouth and throat free, panting and covered in sweat as well. She blinked up at the ceiling.

"Wow," she murmured.

Martin was still catching his breath when he heard her. He was unable to help himself from laughing. “Yeah. Wow is right.” He shook his head, still staring up at the ceiling.

“I...don’t think I’ve come that hard in...years...” he admit almost sounding like he was surprising himself with those words and shaking his head in some disbelief. Clearly the formula was there but he had been on autopilot. An autopilot that hadn’t been woken in quite some time. “You...were so unbelievably sexy-“

His hand moved over to take hers only to find it missing. Turning to look, he was quickly reminded that she was still bound up. “Oh!” He quickly twisted and reached up to untie her, releasing her from her constraints. He gently took one of her hands as if helping her lower them. “How are your wrists, darling?”

Knowing that he had enjoyed himself so completely was satisfying, but what filled her with warmth...and quite a bit of relief...was his affectionate banter, and then the care he took with her when he realized she was still bound.

"They're a little sore. And my hands are a little numb...no, wait..." She winced. "Now they're tingling..."

Martin’s brow furrowed at the sight of her rubbing her wrists, “I hope they don’t bruise.” He made an awkward face. “That would be quite the thing to explain to your partner.”

He laid back again but put his arm around her to pull her close. “Did you cum, darling?” He asked curiously, genuinely unsure. It had been so intense that he had lost himself in it and had completely discarded his partner’s...well, everything. And it had felt so good.

"I might need to wear long sleeves for a little while." Luckily the weather was still relatively cool. Less of a chance Sherlock would think it's suspicious.

She rolled over and nestled up against him, her head on his shoulder and her arm around his waist. "I did," she said with a smile. "It was...different. Intense."

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about the reasons she came so hard.

“Yes, well we’ll maybe find some cuffs that don’t leave a mark next time.” Since he truly hoped there would be a next time.

“It was, wasn’t it?” He loved that she agreed with him on that. “We would have never been able to do that sort of thing back in my cell. The ability we’ll have now to just...experiment and play around with ideas...it’ll be great, darling.” He smiled fondly and kissed her. “I can’t wait to start this life with you.”

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formersurgeon - 2020-05-05 04:24 (UTC) - Expand

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