Fic: Russian Roulette, McCoy/Chapel, NC-17, D/s
Title: Russian Roulette
Author:trek_bdsm
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McCoy/Chapel
Warnings: Consensual sexual domination and submission, bondage, adult lactation, use of non-recreational drugs in a sexual situation, negotiated removal of safewords.
Word count: 6800
Summary: Christine takes a chance on a vial of milky-white liquid, and hopes it was the right decision
Disclaimer: The characters belong to their respective owners and copyright holders, clearly not to me. The characters may practice elements of BDSM that do not fall under the category of "safe sex". I assume you're not stupid, but in the spirit of a vague disclaimer being nobody's friend, I'll spell it out: I practice safe, sane and consensual BDSM in my real life; the characters in my fic may not. I do not condone unsafe sex in real life in any form, and any idiot that copies verbatim anything they read off the internet deserves the embarrassing trip to the hospital that will inevitably follow.
Golden rule, folks; if you're not sure about it, don't stick it up there.
Comes after One Small Step, Good Girl, Just What The Doctor Ordered, Take A Deep Breath, And Another, Part One and Part Two and My Heart Belongs To Daddy, Part One and Part Two.
I've whited out one of the warnings to preserve the suspense in the story, but out of respect for the squicks of others, it's viewable if you highlight the text.
Why the hell Starfleet Medical had to ship liquid medicines in glass vials, Christine Chapel would never know.
Alright, yes, glass didn’t react to anything contained inside it, making it a good choice to ensure that the medicines didn’t lose their integrity while in storage but the thing about glass, the thing that most people would point out as being the main feature of glass, is its fragility.
In short; glass breaks.
Not on a starbase, of course; that would never tilt dangerously from side to side because the inertial dampening systems got damaged in the last Klingon attack. In Federation hospitals on planets throughout the galaxy, glass vials could go years without the storage locker storing them being blown clear across the room by an exploding power conduit.
But this is the Enterprise, and inertial dampeners fail and power conduits explode with depressing regularity, and once more Christine Chapel found herself sifting through the mess of the stock room, trying to salvage what she could from their once well-stocked and organised inventory.
It’s not exactly the job of the Head Nurse to do this, but all the other staff have done it at least once in the last eight months, so she bowed to the inevitable and got her protective gloves on. She was able to salvage some vials, but their resources were incredibly depleted. Some of the simple stuff - antibiotics, analgesics, that sort of thing - could by synthesised in the ship’s labs, provided they hadn’t suffered the same kind of silicon-based storage unit disaster, but some of the other medicines were rare, and they’d have to put in at a starbase for restocking.
Gaila’s hormone-suppressant regimen was going to be interrupted, for a start; sighing, Christine made the notation on her PADD as she swept up the shards. Gone were the chemically unstable but life-giving cancer treatments, as were some of the more exotic STD cures.
She attacked the problem methodically, clearing and recycling the glass as she moved through the room, taking down the ident codes of the vials and making notations about restocking requirements on her PADD. It was slow, laborious work and she was glad that she once it was over, there were nine other nursing staff to get cycle through before it was her turn again.
After an hour and a half she was interrupted by a knock on the door and the delicious aroma of coffee.
“I thought you could use this about now,” Len said, handing her a warm mug.
“If I haven’t told you already today, I love you,” she replied fervently, snatching the coffee mug from his hands with indecent haste. The red alert siren had woken them early from sleep, and they had sprinted to sickbay still tugging on their uniforms. She had stabilised three patients and set up the triage unit before somebody told her that she still had her pyjama pants on under her skirt. Coffee had not been high on their agenda.
He chuckled and moved past her into the storage area, poking through the debris and muttering under his breath. He knelt down and started to rummage with unprotected hands, and Christine threw a pair of protective gloves at his head in protest at his stupidity. He grunted his thanks and kept on rummaging while she leant against the wall, closed her eyes, and sipped the heavenly nectar.
“We’re pretty much trashed,” he said in disgust. “The blowout in the power coupling behind this wall took out all our spare parts for all our diagnostic equipment. We’re down to eight functioning biobeds, and our techs can’t fix the broken ones without the right parts.”
“Can’t Engineering magic something up?” Christine asked, opening one eye. If she had kept them closed she would have missed it; the quick slight of hand that saw her lover drop a small glass vial into his pocket as he crushed another one under his foot.
“Scotty’s promised to lend us a few people once he’s got the engines back online,” McCoy said. “But that won’t be for a day or so yet. We’re pretty much dead in the water.”
“You should ask him to send us Gaila,” Christine told him. “Her hormone medication is gone, we’re going to have to see if we can keep her away from large swathes of the crew anyway, she might as well use her time trying to make the biobeds work.”
“I’ll comm her, and let her know,” McCoy promised.
The sound of one of the functioning biobeds squealing an alert jolted them both out of their discussion as they ran for the main ward to see what the problem with their patient was. It was another hour before Christine could return to the storage room, her cold coffee and the hundreds of glass vials shattered on the floor. The single glass vial that had been slipped into a pocket had also slipped her mind.
It was three days before the situation in sickbay calmed down to anything approaching normal, and duty shifts returned to their pre-explosion routine. By the end of her last one, Christine was dead on her feet and was looking forward to nothing more complicated than a long, hot bath. Because McCoy was senior staff and a department head, he had one of the highly-sought after cabins with a bath tub. A big one. Through some clever feat of engineering it folded away into the wall, preserving space in the bathroom, but tonight it was going to be pulled out, filled up and soaked in, preferably until her fingers pruned up.
It was McCoy’s night for drinking and games with some of the other officers - chess, one week, poker another, darts or pool being other options, depending on what rec rooms were available. Christine waved him off with a smile and settled back into the warm water, PADD in hand. Now was a good time to catch up on her reading, and she had a collection of short stories that Gaila had given her as a birthday present she had never got around to reading.
She snorted as she saw the titles in the collection -Hot and Heavy At The Hospital, The Doctor’s Deception, Enchantment In The E.R. Clearly, there was a theme here, and Gaila was fond of a good gag gift. She read them happily, more to pick apart the awful medical decisions than to appreciate the dashingly handsome doctors and the beautifully caring nurses. In fact, she was still halfway through Enchantment in the E.R when she heard McCoy returning from his game.
“I’m in here!” she called, dextrously flicking the faucet with her toe to top up the warm water. “You were quick.”
“I’ve been two hours,” he told her, stripping off his uniform shirt as he entered the room, slinging it into the laundry hamper. “Time to get my ass handed to me three times at chess - once by Jim and twice by Spock. Have you been reading the entire time?”
“I’ve been more focused on their poor diagnoses than the plots,” Christine admitted, unashamedly watching him as he stripped off his pants. At his questioning look she handed over the PADD, and leaned over the side of the tub to take in the sight of his unclothed body as he peered at the PADD.
“I wouldn’t be enchanted with this clown,” he said eventually. “The kid’s obviously got the measles, and he’s got him on a course of antibiotics!”
“I know, right?” Christine agreed, extending a hand to stroke along her lover’s thigh. “And the nurse is just fluttering her eyelashes and agreeing with it.”
“Eyelash fluttering is compulsory in most medical establishments,” McCoy told her, in a stern voice betrayed by his broad smile. “You’re significantly low on your quota, Nurse Chapel.”
“Me?” Christine asked, fluttering her eyelashes to the best effect. “I’m sorry, doctor, whatever can I do to remedy that?”
She slid her hand further up his thigh until she came to his cock, which had become half hard as he had stared at her naked body stretched out the tub. A minute or so of practiced attention from her hand and he was fully erect; she beckoned him closer to the tub with a sultry smile and proceeded to give him the first blow job he’d had in a week, complete with as much eyelash fluttering as she could manage.
He petted her hair and stroked her neck as she worked, but his hands were gentle and his touch soft. This was not a power game, but a playful demonstration of her attraction for him. She let her hands roam freely over his body, massaging the firm muscles of his ass, rolling his heavy balls in her hands, even gently stroking the tight hole of his anus. He was wonderfully vocal as she worked, telling her exactly how much she he appreciated what she was doing, keeping up a steady stream of encouragement until she turned up the tempo, determined to rob him of the power of speech. Some thorough attention paid to the sensitive underside of his cock, as well as teasing the slit in the head, was enough for him to moan out her name as he came loudly and copiously in her mouth.
“Oh God,” he groaned as she licked his cock clean. “That was very, very good.”
“I live to serve,” Christine joked, pulling herself from the water.
He handed her a large, warm towel and took pleasure in towelling her hair dry as she sat perched on the edge of the tub. After he had done that she handed him a large comb, and he carefully combed the tangles from her hair. He waved her thanks off with a dropped kiss to her shoulder, and an “I live to serve.”
Later, when they were lying together under the covers, lazily sharing gentle kisses, he brought up the subject matter of her reading material again.
“Did those stories do anything for you?” he asked. “Other than make you annoyed, I mean?”
Christine considered it briefly, then shook her head.
“It’s too close to home, I think,” she said eventually. “I’m not in love with you because you’re a doctor and I’m a nurse; I like to think that we’d be the same if we were pilots, or florists.”
“I’d make a lovely florist,” McCoy agreed, and feigned pain as she socked him in the arm.
He caught her hand, dropped a courtly kiss to the back of it, and kept hold of it as he spoke again.
“We’ve never tried any medical play,” he said thoughtfully. “Is that something that you’d like to try one day?”
Christine paused before shaking her head, but the hesitation was enough for him to pounce on.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “Tell me. Nothing you can say will shock me, you know that.”
“There’s nothing we do at work that I’d want to do in the bedroom,” she clarified. “That’s...”
“Too close to home?” he supplied and she nodded.
He waited for her to continue, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“There are times when I wonder about some of the drugs we use,” she said eventually. “I think about what it might be like if you used one of them on me, during one of our games. “
“Can you give me an example?” he asked, stroking her arm with his hand encouragingly.
“One of the sedatives,” she said eventually. “I wonder what it would be like if you gave me a little dose of one of those. I wouldn’t have to be tied up; I’d be helpless to stop you doing whatever you wanted to me.”
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t be dangerous if we calculated the amount of drug correctly. I’d have to run a full workup on you first, just in case, to check your reactions to anything I might want to use. Is there anything else you’ve thought about?”
“I can’t say,” she said, burying her face into his chest. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“No such thing,” he told her, kissing the top of her head.
“I can’t look at you when I say it,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.
“Alright,” he said gravely.
“Vocal suppressants,” she said softly. “Sometimes, I think about what would happen if you injected me with a vocal suppressant.”
“I could strap that pretty ass of yours as hard as I wanted to, and you couldn’t scream,” he mused, sliding a hand down her naked back to fondle at her slit. As expected, he found her wet already.
“Or I could do exactly the opposite,” he continued, sliding one, then two fingers inside her and pumping them quickly in the way she loved. “I could have a nice quiet evening in here with you, reading or watch a vid, eating a meal, and all the time you’d be unable to speak. You’d be silent at my whim, unable to do anything but look at me with those big, pretty brown eyes of yours, Christine. Would you like that, honey? Would you like me to take your voice away from you, only give it back when I was good and ready?”
“Oh, yes,” she sobbed, clutching at him while thrusting backwards onto his fingers. “Yes, please, do it, take my voice, please,”
“I can never resist you when you beg,” he told her.
He rolled her onto her back, freeing his fingers from her wet channel and replacing them with his cock, which had been brought back to hardness by his lover’s whispered fantasies. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, her nipples tight and erect and it was quick work to bring her to one, then another orgasm in quick succession before he grunted and released in her.
She fell asleep immediately, the emotional release of revealing a fantasy draining her. He stayed awake a while longer, mentally reviewing the small selection of glass vials he had secreted in a box at the back of the closet.
Alpha shift breakfast coincided with delta shift evening meal and so was always a noisy, crowded affair, with one shift being fed ready for the six hours ahead, and one shift looking for something warm before they crashed in their bunks. It was the right time to have a private conversation as nobody could eavesdrop over the general background chatter.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” McCoy said conversationally over bacon, eggs, sausage and pancakes.
“Really?” Christine asked, darting a look sideways to see if anybody was listening to them. She toyed with the remnants of her bowl of cereal and fiddled with her napkin.
“Really,” he confirmed. “And I have an idea, if you want to play in that way.”
“What idea?” she asked, guardedly.
“I have a small selection of...items,” he said carefully, aware of their location. “All of these items would, if used on a healthy human female, have certain ...effects that both you and I would find pleasurable.”
“I see,” she said quietly. She shot him a shrewd look across the table.
“You’ve had something like this in mind for a while, haven’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just a vague idea, nothing concrete. A spur of the moment idea, to start, which developed a little over time.”
A memory surfaced in Christine’s mind.
“You put something in your pocket,” she said sharply. “When I was clearing out the storage unit, you slipped one of the unbroken vials in your pocket.”
“That way they don’t show up as missing on the manifests,” he said simply. “Damaged stock is replaced immediately, and nobody is the wiser.”
“Except for you and I,” she said thoughtfully.
“Say the word and I’ll toss them into the recycler,” he promised. “We’ll never mention it again.”
There was silence for a few minutes as she took a few meditative bites of cereal and he polished off the remains of his meal.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked eventually.
“I know exactly what’s in each vial,” he said calmly. “I know what each item will do to you, what the effects will be and how long they last. I also have an antidote that will cancel the effects of the item. You will be safe.”
“I never for one minute thought otherwise,” she said, smiling at him. He acknowledged her with a curt nod.
“What you won’t know is what effect the item will have on you, and how I choose to exploit it,” he continued. “Some of the items will make communication difficult, if not impossible. You’re going to have to trust me to know your limits.”
“That’s pretty new,” she pointed out. “You’ve always been very keen on me using my words before.”
“I think we’re ready to start playing without them sometimes,” he said simply. “But that’s not my decision to make. You need to think about this very carefully.”
“How much time do I have?” she asked.
“As much as you need,” he said simply. “Remember, you can say no to this and I’ll never bring it up again. Your choice, honey.”
The ship-wide signal for shift change sounded, and they started to bus their table. McCoy determinedly turned the conversation towards other topics, but even when they reached sickbay and Christine started her daily routine, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the conversation over breakfast.
And God damn the man, if that wasn’t exactly what he had planned to happen.
She was distracted all day, and wisely chose to take herself away from primary patient care, preferring to sit in the small office allocated to Head Nurse and complete the stock update order that would be sent via subspace to the nearest starbase. Every time she inputted the name of a needed drug, she’d pause to consider the effects it would have on a healthy person, and wonder if it was one of the drugs that Len had been stashing away over the months.
She wondered what it would be like, not to be able to halt things if they got too intense. She’d never needed to stop completely before; slow down, take a breather, yes, but not stop.
It all boiled down to trust; she would have to trust him to ensure that she was safe and that her experience was pleasurable. She did trust him; she trusted his knowledge, she trusted his judgement, she trusted his love for her.
By the time her lunchbreak came around, she had made up her mind; she’d try it once. If it worked out, she’d be willing to try it again. If it didn’t, if she felt unsafe, then she’d insist they used safewords in the future.
“You’re sure?” he asked gravely, as she led him into one of the small private rooms off one of their wards.
“You hurt me, but you don’t harm me,” she told him, echoing the words he’d said way back when they first started. “I have no reason to believe that you’re going to start now.”
He nodded, his face still serious.
“I’m going to want to do a full work-up,” he warned. “I’m going to want to test for a hundred different non-standard things, Chris. This isn’t something we’re going to play with tonight.”
“I understand,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. I know this is you taking care of me.”
“Damn right,” he growled, pulling her to him for a long, satisfying hug. “Now,” he said firmly, spanking her once, hard, on the ass. “Hop up on that biobed, and we’ll get started.”
It was a long time before either of them mentioned the idea; real life intervened, and the medical work-ups did take a long time. It frustrated Christine that he wouldn’t let her see the results, but she knew that she’d probably be able to guess what drugs he intended to use if she did. He did all the lab work himself, not trusting any of their techs to do any of it. This took him away from her during their off-shift times, but did allow her to catch glimpses of him in the standard white lab coat, which was strangely alluring.
At her request, he brought the lab coat back to their cabin with him.
The six week cycle of their shift patterns caught them out also, forcing them to spend almost two weeks with nothing more than a few snatched rolls in the sheets, one yawning with fatigue, the other just waking. Their toybox stayed resolutely shut, and Christine was starting to feel the loss.
But good things come to those who wait, and one morning when their shifts stabilised again, Christine found herself pushed face-first down into their mattress and held there firmly with one of his strong hands on her neck.
“You’re to keep yourself hydrated today,” he informed her coolly. “I want to see you drink at least four litres of water when you’re on shift, and another litre when you go off shift. I want you back here at eighteen hundred hours, naked, kneeling at the side of the bed, ready to play. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Christine gasped. “Yes, I understand.”
Her mind swam. Five litres of fluid? She’d be running to the bathroom all day. But his instructions weren’t dangerous, and clearly had some bearing on their evening’s activities. Fear rolled in her stomach, but it was fear mixed with anticipation and more than a little arousal.
She had never peed so much in her life. Some of her nurses were giving her strange looks as she replicated glass after glass of water, but she complained about last night’s mess curry being too strong for her and they let it pass. She tried to limit her comfort breaks to an acceptable number, but more than once McCoy watched her, smirking, as she shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He left to go to the bridge part way through the tail end of her shift, and she was glad he had disappeared. Having him lurk around sickbay only reminded her of what he had planned for that evening. Every time she picked up a hypospray she would flinch slightly, thinking of the activities that evening she would have no control over.
She showered after her shift, hoping that the hot spray would take away her nervousness. At some point during the day he’d been back in their quarters, and the toybox was now displayed prominently in the middle of the bed, a silent invitation to pleasure.
She towelled herself off and rubbed the silky-smooth lotion Len had bought her into her skin. It smelled of peaches, and always made him growl and nibble at the back of her neck. She was ready ten minutes before eighteen hundred hours, and spent the time kneeling in position, breathing deeply to calm her nerves. It was odd; none of the other games they had played had ever made her feel this nervous. It was the absence of planning on her part, she realised. Normally everything was discussed and negotiated in advance. Now she would be choosing to render herself helpless, and for the first time she would truly be at the mercy of Len with no ability to stop him doing whatever he wanted to her.
She should be scared, and she was, a little. But mostly, she was turned on.
The sound of the doors opening made her head jerk sideways, but he immediately barked “Eyes down!” and she hurriedly obeyed.
She heard him move around the room, opening a closet door and handling glass. He moved closer to her, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Last chance to back out,” he said softly. “From this point on, we play until I say stop, Christine.”
“I understand,” she told him, still looking down at the floor. “And I want to continue.”
He let out a satisfied sigh.
“Very good,” he said. “Look up at me now.”
She did, and he held a small wooden box in his hand. Inside it were seven or eight glass ampules, filled with liquids of all colors. There were no identifying markers on the vials and sickbay ident codes had been removed.
“Choose one of the vials,” he instructed. “I’ve added a colorant to each of them so I know which is which. It will have no effect other than that.”
Christine looked closely at the choices she had; her eye was caught by a fiery red liquid, and her hand hesitated over it, before she changed her mind and hovered over a turquoise vial instead. Then another vial, tucked away in the corner of the box, caught her eye. It was a milky-white color, and seemed quite plain when compared to the rest of the drugs.
“That one,” she said, decidedly.
“Alright,” he said taking the glass vial from her hand and setting the box down carefully on the bedside table. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and loaded up an empty hypospray, then without warning pressed it against her neck and depressed the trigger.
“Right,” he said briskly. “Get up on the bed.”
She scrambled to obey, and he opened the toybox to reveal their collection. He selected her blue wrist and ankle cuffs, and after a moment’s thought, took out the collar that matched as well. As soon as the collar snapped shut around her neck, Christine felt a little better. Wearing the collar always made her feel calm, because the collar signified a loss of control. She couldn’t worry about anything anymore, because she had no more decisions to make, everything was out of her hands.
She offered her wrists silently for the cuffs to fasten around, and her ankles were similarly bound.
“Beautiful,” Len said, putting two fingers under her chin and tipping her head back. He leant over and kissed her, fisting a hand in her hair to keep her head in place as he completely ravaged her mouth.
“Pile the pillows behind you,” he ordered, stepping away from her. “I want you sitting up, with your back supported and your legs bent.”
She went about her task as he rummaged about in the toybox, She saw him attach magnetic clamps to the walls either side of the headboard that would serve as anchors to restraints, and he attached two more, one either side of the bottom of the bed.
“In position now,” he ordered, and she hurriedly laced herself in the middle of the pile of cushions. She was very comfortable, and her back was well supported. She sat there obediently as her lover pulled out coils of the tethering metallic rope he had purchased from Chaud’s shop, and quickly and efficiently looped it through the clips on the cuffs and through the clamps on the wall. Christine was now firmly tied in place. A quick test of the ropes found that she couldn’t move an inch.
Her heartbeat quickened. What was going to happen next? She cleared her throat experimentally, and she was able to make a noise; either the drug wasn’t working yet, or it wasn’t one that affected her voice.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not about that.
Len looked up from his position as the end of the bed and grinned.
“You go on and make as much noise as you want, honey,” he told her. “That don’t matter none. The room’s on quiet.”
He must have engaged the soundproofing when she had been staring at the floor, she thought. So, whatever was going to happen to her, it was nothing to do with her voice.
She watched as Len busied himself around the room, fetching towels and a washcloth from the bathroom, lubricant from the toybox and a tricorder from a bag on the desk. He brought that close to her and ran it along the length of her body, staring at the readout.
“Good,” he said to himself. “Good, it’s starting.”
Christine found herself holding her breath, waiting for something to happen. She had to release it when there was no immediate response.
“You smell good enough to eat,” he said huskily, leaning in to kiss along her neck, strong, biting kisses that would leave marks on her pale skin.
She shivered and moaned a little as he ravaged her neck. She tried to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, but the ropes stopped her from moving at all. He chuckled as he heard the rattle of the rope against the clamps.
“You stay put,” he told her. “You don’t move, you hear?”
“Yes,” she gasped, as he ran his hand down over her neck and squeezed, cutting off her air. He kept his hand there firmly as he leant in to kiss her again, releasing his hold then tightening again in unpredictable patterns. Christine felt the familiar tightness in her chest as her airway fought to suck in vital oxygen. She lost track of time as he contracted and relaxed his hand, her head becoming light and pleasure starting to bubble through her veins. He shifted position to dip his hand between her thighs, and he was pleased when his fingers came back wet. He offered them to her to clean, and she licked the taste of herself off them with pleasure.
“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he grumbled, and shifted position so that he was lying on his chest between her bent legs.
Christine groaned hoarsely as his dark head dipped and began the delicious task of eating her out. She was concentrating so hard on the sensations there that she missed the first signs of the drug kicking in, but when she moved position slightly to allow him easier access she felt the first twinges of pain in her breasts.
“Ah!” she gasped in surprise.
He looked up from between her thighs.
“Starting to work?” he asked, and she nodded, biting her lip as another flash of pain raced across her upper chest.
“What…did you…do?” she panted, groaning as her breasts began feeling heavier, and fuller.
“Oh no,” he laughed. “That would be telling,” and he returned his attention to teasing the dripping slit between her legs.
From her humble point of view, her man was an expert at oral sex, and usually she would have delighted in the protracted session he was offering her. But no amount of clever tongue flicks, short bursts of suction and careful grazes of his teeth across her sensitive clit could distract her from the fact that her breasts were swelling, right before her very eyes.
Christine had always had a secret pride in her bust; she was a well endowed woman, and many of her friends had commented enviously on the size of her breasts. But now they were increasing in size, becoming heavy and full. They were becoming painful, and her nipples, already erect from Len’s attentions, were also becoming tight and aching.
She could only imagine what she would look like if somebody entered the room, unexpectedly. Tethered into position on the bed, displaying her entire body for the gaze of her lover, breasts swelling beyond their normal size, pussy dripping with her juices, red marks of possession on her neck. Thinking about the exaggerated size of her breasts made her look down at them, and she was shocked to see them increase in size still further. She looked like one of the surgically altered porn stars that were so popular, all curves and out-of-proportion breasts that bounced and jiggled as they performed for the camera.
Except there’d be no bouncing for her, she realised, as she gasped in pain and her nipples tightened again. Her breasts felt as heavy as lead, and about as solid. A trickle of moisture running down her chest and her stomach made her pay attention to her torso, and she let out a strangled shout of shock.
“Shit!” she cursed inelegantly. “Fuck, Len, look!”
His face appeared from between her thighs, smeared with wetness from her core.
“Look at you,” he said admiringly. “God damn it Christine, just look at you.”
He shifted position, and skimmed his hands up across her thighs and her stomach, up to her grossly inflated bust. She yelped slightly as he squeezed at the giant globes, now so large that even he, with his big hands, couldn’t stop them spilling out of his grasp. As he squeezed, liquid trickled out of her nipples, and ran over his hands.
“Is that…is that…” she panted, and he nodded, delighted.
“It’s milk, honey,” he told her, beaming.
He put one of his fingers in his mouth and licked up the trickle of milk that had run over it. He pulled it from his mouth with a satisfied popping sound.
“Mmm,” he pronounced. “Delicious.”
And then he bent his head and suckled directly at her nipple.
It was like an explosion of fireworks going off in her chest. Painful, at first, as he sucked hard at one nipple, then the other, but after a moment the milk started to flow and as soon as it did it was like her nipples were directly linked to her clit, and it throbbed in time to the pressure in her breasts.
She’d never accuse him of failure to multitask again; as he kept up a continual sucking at her breasts, he reached down and rubbed firmly at her clit with just the amount of intensity she needed to come immediately. She was wracked with pleasure, twisting in her bonds as she came time and time again, gasping out nonsense as she watched the white liquid cascade down her body from the nipple that was currently unoccupied.
“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, fuck me, fuck me.”
He ignored her thrust two fingers deeply inside her instead, preferring to stay suckling at her breasts. He had milk smeared over his face now, mingling with her other juices, and she longed to lean over and lick them from him, to taste her milk mixed with the masculine taste of him. But she was denied, the ropes keeping her firmly in place.
She was going out of her mind; the pressure in her breasts was decreasing in intensity, but the pleasure she was feeling was making her so wet around his hand that he was able to fit a third finger inside her, something that was usually uncomfortable without lube. He withdrew his fingers as he adjusted his position on the bed, pulling down the zipper on his pants to pull out his heavy, erect cock. She moaned in frustration at the loss of him, but he chuckled and reinserted his fingers, this time changing their position so they rubbed against a sensitive spot inside her.
A different feeling came over her, one very much like her usual orgasms, but this felt deeper, somehow, and stronger. As her pussy contracted she felt a rush of fluid leave her, drenching his hand.
“There we go,” he said, pleased. “You’re squirting all over the place now, aren’t you?”
She collapsed back against the pillows, utterly drained yet feeling completely alive at the same time. Every inch of her skin felt like it was hardwired to her clit, and every suckle and kiss to her breasts made pleasure and pain flare up simultaneously.
He withdrew his fingers from her drenched pussy, and shifted position on the bed so he was straddling her upper body. He smeared his wet fingers over her breasts, which were already wet from a mixture of his saliva and her milk, which was still oozing from her nipples, although not as much as it had before.
“I thought I’d need lube for this,” he said admiringly as he held her breasts in his hands, pushing them together. “But you’re just so god damned wet, honey, I can do it without.”
He lined up his cock and pushed it in between the pillow of her breasts. Although to her they still felt hard, they were clearly soft enough for his purposes, and he thrust roughly between them. Milk still oozed from her nipples as he pushed her breasts together and pumped his cock, fucking them firmly. He didn’t speak, so total was his concentration on sliding his cock in and out of the tight, wet hole he had made. She writhed beneath him, as much as she could under his weight and with the cuffs holding her in place.
“Want to suck you,” she pleaded. “Come in my mouth, please, fuck my mouth!”
“No,” he panted, still keeping up his thrusts. “No, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”
He didn’t finish, groaning loudly instead as he spurted over her breasts, striping her with his come. He sat back on his heels, jerking the last of it out, watching it spatter over her sweat-and-milk-and come-drenched body.
She was utterly wrecked, she knew; sweat poured from her hairline, milk still oozed sluggishly from her breasts, she could feel her own pussy fluid coating her thighs and she had his thick, white semen decorating her breasts and torso. He began the usual ritual of feeding her his semen from his fingers, but this time he squeezed some of her milk from one of her breasts and trickled it over her lips also.
She was silent as he stood and discarded his ruined clothes, stained with their combined fluids. She winced as he began to carefully clean her up, patting her skin with a damp washcloth.
“ ‘scold,” she complained eventually.
“I should have thought of that,” he said ruefully. “But I was having such a good time eating you out I didn’t notice how long we were playing.”
“How long?” she asked craning her neck to look at a chronometer.
“Three hours,” he confirmed.
“You’re kidding me!” she said, astonished.
“It’s true,” he said. “You were well and truly out of it for a while there. Come on. We’re going to have to shower.”
He unfastened the restraint rope, but left her cuffs and collar on as he guided her into the bathroom. Her legs were unsteady, so he made her sit on the closed toilet seat while he replicated an energy drink high in sugar. As she sipped it carefully, he went back into the bedroom and efficiently stripped the bed, bundling everything into the laundry chute and replacing it with fresh bedding. By this time Christine was feeling less light-headed, so they shared a leisurely shower, spending more time kissing and stroking each other’s bodies that doing any active cleaning. Luckily, the hot water did all that for them.
Christine watched as her breasts grew steadily smaller as time passed. They still contained milk, and she purred in pleasure as Len stood behind her, grasped a breast in each hand and squeezed. The rhythmic squeezing was pleasurable, and it was a strangely erotic experience, watching her milk squirt out of her nipples, to be washed away down the drain. Len clearly thought so too, because she felt him harden and rub insistently against her hip. Without being told, she bent at the waist and held her ankles in her hands, presenting herself to him for use. This was his favourite sex-in-the-shower position, and he slid into her immediately, pounding hard. She didn’t have the energy for another orgasm herself, and contented herself with his pleasure as he came groaning her name.
They crawled into bed exhausted, and she found herself curled in his arms straight away.
“How was that?” he asked, kissing her forehead.
“Unbelievable,” she sighed. “Wonderful. Perfect.”
“I’m glad,” he said, kissing her again. “That’s been a fantasy of mine for a very long time, and you were spectacular.”
“How long before my breasts are back to normal?” she asked, glancing down. They were still enlarged, although not to the massive proportions they had reached earlier.
“They’ll be almost normal in the morning,” he promised. “Not very much bigger than they are usually. You could pretend you’re wearing a different bra, if anybody commented. It’ll be completely normal again by tomorrow evening. There may be a little leakage still, during the day. I’ve got you some pads to fit in your bra, just in case.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by your office during shift, let you suck it out of me,” Christine said sleepily.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he warned, and she laughed before kissing him goodnight and dropping off to sleep. He wasn’t long behind her; but before he did, he looked over to the box containing the rest of the colourful vials, and thought about which one of his fantasies she would choose to indulge next. Whichever one it was, he thought happily, he couldn’t wait for it to happen.
cash loan
Author:trek_bdsm
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: McCoy/Chapel
Warnings: Consensual sexual domination and submission, bondage, adult lactation, use of non-recreational drugs in a sexual situation, negotiated removal of safewords.
Word count: 6800
Summary: Christine takes a chance on a vial of milky-white liquid, and hopes it was the right decision
Disclaimer: The characters belong to their respective owners and copyright holders, clearly not to me. The characters may practice elements of BDSM that do not fall under the category of "safe sex". I assume you're not stupid, but in the spirit of a vague disclaimer being nobody's friend, I'll spell it out: I practice safe, sane and consensual BDSM in my real life; the characters in my fic may not. I do not condone unsafe sex in real life in any form, and any idiot that copies verbatim anything they read off the internet deserves the embarrassing trip to the hospital that will inevitably follow.
Golden rule, folks; if you're not sure about it, don't stick it up there.
Comes after One Small Step, Good Girl, Just What The Doctor Ordered, Take A Deep Breath, And Another, Part One and Part Two and My Heart Belongs To Daddy, Part One and Part Two.
I've whited out one of the warnings to preserve the suspense in the story, but out of respect for the squicks of others, it's viewable if you highlight the text.
Why the hell Starfleet Medical had to ship liquid medicines in glass vials, Christine Chapel would never know.
Alright, yes, glass didn’t react to anything contained inside it, making it a good choice to ensure that the medicines didn’t lose their integrity while in storage but the thing about glass, the thing that most people would point out as being the main feature of glass, is its fragility.
In short; glass breaks.
Not on a starbase, of course; that would never tilt dangerously from side to side because the inertial dampening systems got damaged in the last Klingon attack. In Federation hospitals on planets throughout the galaxy, glass vials could go years without the storage locker storing them being blown clear across the room by an exploding power conduit.
But this is the Enterprise, and inertial dampeners fail and power conduits explode with depressing regularity, and once more Christine Chapel found herself sifting through the mess of the stock room, trying to salvage what she could from their once well-stocked and organised inventory.
It’s not exactly the job of the Head Nurse to do this, but all the other staff have done it at least once in the last eight months, so she bowed to the inevitable and got her protective gloves on. She was able to salvage some vials, but their resources were incredibly depleted. Some of the simple stuff - antibiotics, analgesics, that sort of thing - could by synthesised in the ship’s labs, provided they hadn’t suffered the same kind of silicon-based storage unit disaster, but some of the other medicines were rare, and they’d have to put in at a starbase for restocking.
Gaila’s hormone-suppressant regimen was going to be interrupted, for a start; sighing, Christine made the notation on her PADD as she swept up the shards. Gone were the chemically unstable but life-giving cancer treatments, as were some of the more exotic STD cures.
She attacked the problem methodically, clearing and recycling the glass as she moved through the room, taking down the ident codes of the vials and making notations about restocking requirements on her PADD. It was slow, laborious work and she was glad that she once it was over, there were nine other nursing staff to get cycle through before it was her turn again.
After an hour and a half she was interrupted by a knock on the door and the delicious aroma of coffee.
“I thought you could use this about now,” Len said, handing her a warm mug.
“If I haven’t told you already today, I love you,” she replied fervently, snatching the coffee mug from his hands with indecent haste. The red alert siren had woken them early from sleep, and they had sprinted to sickbay still tugging on their uniforms. She had stabilised three patients and set up the triage unit before somebody told her that she still had her pyjama pants on under her skirt. Coffee had not been high on their agenda.
He chuckled and moved past her into the storage area, poking through the debris and muttering under his breath. He knelt down and started to rummage with unprotected hands, and Christine threw a pair of protective gloves at his head in protest at his stupidity. He grunted his thanks and kept on rummaging while she leant against the wall, closed her eyes, and sipped the heavenly nectar.
“We’re pretty much trashed,” he said in disgust. “The blowout in the power coupling behind this wall took out all our spare parts for all our diagnostic equipment. We’re down to eight functioning biobeds, and our techs can’t fix the broken ones without the right parts.”
“Can’t Engineering magic something up?” Christine asked, opening one eye. If she had kept them closed she would have missed it; the quick slight of hand that saw her lover drop a small glass vial into his pocket as he crushed another one under his foot.
“Scotty’s promised to lend us a few people once he’s got the engines back online,” McCoy said. “But that won’t be for a day or so yet. We’re pretty much dead in the water.”
“You should ask him to send us Gaila,” Christine told him. “Her hormone medication is gone, we’re going to have to see if we can keep her away from large swathes of the crew anyway, she might as well use her time trying to make the biobeds work.”
“I’ll comm her, and let her know,” McCoy promised.
The sound of one of the functioning biobeds squealing an alert jolted them both out of their discussion as they ran for the main ward to see what the problem with their patient was. It was another hour before Christine could return to the storage room, her cold coffee and the hundreds of glass vials shattered on the floor. The single glass vial that had been slipped into a pocket had also slipped her mind.
It was three days before the situation in sickbay calmed down to anything approaching normal, and duty shifts returned to their pre-explosion routine. By the end of her last one, Christine was dead on her feet and was looking forward to nothing more complicated than a long, hot bath. Because McCoy was senior staff and a department head, he had one of the highly-sought after cabins with a bath tub. A big one. Through some clever feat of engineering it folded away into the wall, preserving space in the bathroom, but tonight it was going to be pulled out, filled up and soaked in, preferably until her fingers pruned up.
It was McCoy’s night for drinking and games with some of the other officers - chess, one week, poker another, darts or pool being other options, depending on what rec rooms were available. Christine waved him off with a smile and settled back into the warm water, PADD in hand. Now was a good time to catch up on her reading, and she had a collection of short stories that Gaila had given her as a birthday present she had never got around to reading.
She snorted as she saw the titles in the collection -Hot and Heavy At The Hospital, The Doctor’s Deception, Enchantment In The E.R. Clearly, there was a theme here, and Gaila was fond of a good gag gift. She read them happily, more to pick apart the awful medical decisions than to appreciate the dashingly handsome doctors and the beautifully caring nurses. In fact, she was still halfway through Enchantment in the E.R when she heard McCoy returning from his game.
“I’m in here!” she called, dextrously flicking the faucet with her toe to top up the warm water. “You were quick.”
“I’ve been two hours,” he told her, stripping off his uniform shirt as he entered the room, slinging it into the laundry hamper. “Time to get my ass handed to me three times at chess - once by Jim and twice by Spock. Have you been reading the entire time?”
“I’ve been more focused on their poor diagnoses than the plots,” Christine admitted, unashamedly watching him as he stripped off his pants. At his questioning look she handed over the PADD, and leaned over the side of the tub to take in the sight of his unclothed body as he peered at the PADD.
“I wouldn’t be enchanted with this clown,” he said eventually. “The kid’s obviously got the measles, and he’s got him on a course of antibiotics!”
“I know, right?” Christine agreed, extending a hand to stroke along her lover’s thigh. “And the nurse is just fluttering her eyelashes and agreeing with it.”
“Eyelash fluttering is compulsory in most medical establishments,” McCoy told her, in a stern voice betrayed by his broad smile. “You’re significantly low on your quota, Nurse Chapel.”
“Me?” Christine asked, fluttering her eyelashes to the best effect. “I’m sorry, doctor, whatever can I do to remedy that?”
She slid her hand further up his thigh until she came to his cock, which had become half hard as he had stared at her naked body stretched out the tub. A minute or so of practiced attention from her hand and he was fully erect; she beckoned him closer to the tub with a sultry smile and proceeded to give him the first blow job he’d had in a week, complete with as much eyelash fluttering as she could manage.
He petted her hair and stroked her neck as she worked, but his hands were gentle and his touch soft. This was not a power game, but a playful demonstration of her attraction for him. She let her hands roam freely over his body, massaging the firm muscles of his ass, rolling his heavy balls in her hands, even gently stroking the tight hole of his anus. He was wonderfully vocal as she worked, telling her exactly how much she he appreciated what she was doing, keeping up a steady stream of encouragement until she turned up the tempo, determined to rob him of the power of speech. Some thorough attention paid to the sensitive underside of his cock, as well as teasing the slit in the head, was enough for him to moan out her name as he came loudly and copiously in her mouth.
“Oh God,” he groaned as she licked his cock clean. “That was very, very good.”
“I live to serve,” Christine joked, pulling herself from the water.
He handed her a large, warm towel and took pleasure in towelling her hair dry as she sat perched on the edge of the tub. After he had done that she handed him a large comb, and he carefully combed the tangles from her hair. He waved her thanks off with a dropped kiss to her shoulder, and an “I live to serve.”
Later, when they were lying together under the covers, lazily sharing gentle kisses, he brought up the subject matter of her reading material again.
“Did those stories do anything for you?” he asked. “Other than make you annoyed, I mean?”
Christine considered it briefly, then shook her head.
“It’s too close to home, I think,” she said eventually. “I’m not in love with you because you’re a doctor and I’m a nurse; I like to think that we’d be the same if we were pilots, or florists.”
“I’d make a lovely florist,” McCoy agreed, and feigned pain as she socked him in the arm.
He caught her hand, dropped a courtly kiss to the back of it, and kept hold of it as he spoke again.
“We’ve never tried any medical play,” he said thoughtfully. “Is that something that you’d like to try one day?”
Christine paused before shaking her head, but the hesitation was enough for him to pounce on.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “Tell me. Nothing you can say will shock me, you know that.”
“There’s nothing we do at work that I’d want to do in the bedroom,” she clarified. “That’s...”
“Too close to home?” he supplied and she nodded.
He waited for her to continue, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“There are times when I wonder about some of the drugs we use,” she said eventually. “I think about what it might be like if you used one of them on me, during one of our games. “
“Can you give me an example?” he asked, stroking her arm with his hand encouragingly.
“One of the sedatives,” she said eventually. “I wonder what it would be like if you gave me a little dose of one of those. I wouldn’t have to be tied up; I’d be helpless to stop you doing whatever you wanted to me.”
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t be dangerous if we calculated the amount of drug correctly. I’d have to run a full workup on you first, just in case, to check your reactions to anything I might want to use. Is there anything else you’ve thought about?”
“I can’t say,” she said, burying her face into his chest. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“No such thing,” he told her, kissing the top of her head.
“I can’t look at you when I say it,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.
“Alright,” he said gravely.
“Vocal suppressants,” she said softly. “Sometimes, I think about what would happen if you injected me with a vocal suppressant.”
“I could strap that pretty ass of yours as hard as I wanted to, and you couldn’t scream,” he mused, sliding a hand down her naked back to fondle at her slit. As expected, he found her wet already.
“Or I could do exactly the opposite,” he continued, sliding one, then two fingers inside her and pumping them quickly in the way she loved. “I could have a nice quiet evening in here with you, reading or watch a vid, eating a meal, and all the time you’d be unable to speak. You’d be silent at my whim, unable to do anything but look at me with those big, pretty brown eyes of yours, Christine. Would you like that, honey? Would you like me to take your voice away from you, only give it back when I was good and ready?”
“Oh, yes,” she sobbed, clutching at him while thrusting backwards onto his fingers. “Yes, please, do it, take my voice, please,”
“I can never resist you when you beg,” he told her.
He rolled her onto her back, freeing his fingers from her wet channel and replacing them with his cock, which had been brought back to hardness by his lover’s whispered fantasies. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, her nipples tight and erect and it was quick work to bring her to one, then another orgasm in quick succession before he grunted and released in her.
She fell asleep immediately, the emotional release of revealing a fantasy draining her. He stayed awake a while longer, mentally reviewing the small selection of glass vials he had secreted in a box at the back of the closet.
Alpha shift breakfast coincided with delta shift evening meal and so was always a noisy, crowded affair, with one shift being fed ready for the six hours ahead, and one shift looking for something warm before they crashed in their bunks. It was the right time to have a private conversation as nobody could eavesdrop over the general background chatter.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” McCoy said conversationally over bacon, eggs, sausage and pancakes.
“Really?” Christine asked, darting a look sideways to see if anybody was listening to them. She toyed with the remnants of her bowl of cereal and fiddled with her napkin.
“Really,” he confirmed. “And I have an idea, if you want to play in that way.”
“What idea?” she asked, guardedly.
“I have a small selection of...items,” he said carefully, aware of their location. “All of these items would, if used on a healthy human female, have certain ...effects that both you and I would find pleasurable.”
“I see,” she said quietly. She shot him a shrewd look across the table.
“You’ve had something like this in mind for a while, haven’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just a vague idea, nothing concrete. A spur of the moment idea, to start, which developed a little over time.”
A memory surfaced in Christine’s mind.
“You put something in your pocket,” she said sharply. “When I was clearing out the storage unit, you slipped one of the unbroken vials in your pocket.”
“That way they don’t show up as missing on the manifests,” he said simply. “Damaged stock is replaced immediately, and nobody is the wiser.”
“Except for you and I,” she said thoughtfully.
“Say the word and I’ll toss them into the recycler,” he promised. “We’ll never mention it again.”
There was silence for a few minutes as she took a few meditative bites of cereal and he polished off the remains of his meal.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked eventually.
“I know exactly what’s in each vial,” he said calmly. “I know what each item will do to you, what the effects will be and how long they last. I also have an antidote that will cancel the effects of the item. You will be safe.”
“I never for one minute thought otherwise,” she said, smiling at him. He acknowledged her with a curt nod.
“What you won’t know is what effect the item will have on you, and how I choose to exploit it,” he continued. “Some of the items will make communication difficult, if not impossible. You’re going to have to trust me to know your limits.”
“That’s pretty new,” she pointed out. “You’ve always been very keen on me using my words before.”
“I think we’re ready to start playing without them sometimes,” he said simply. “But that’s not my decision to make. You need to think about this very carefully.”
“How much time do I have?” she asked.
“As much as you need,” he said simply. “Remember, you can say no to this and I’ll never bring it up again. Your choice, honey.”
The ship-wide signal for shift change sounded, and they started to bus their table. McCoy determinedly turned the conversation towards other topics, but even when they reached sickbay and Christine started her daily routine, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the conversation over breakfast.
And God damn the man, if that wasn’t exactly what he had planned to happen.
She was distracted all day, and wisely chose to take herself away from primary patient care, preferring to sit in the small office allocated to Head Nurse and complete the stock update order that would be sent via subspace to the nearest starbase. Every time she inputted the name of a needed drug, she’d pause to consider the effects it would have on a healthy person, and wonder if it was one of the drugs that Len had been stashing away over the months.
She wondered what it would be like, not to be able to halt things if they got too intense. She’d never needed to stop completely before; slow down, take a breather, yes, but not stop.
It all boiled down to trust; she would have to trust him to ensure that she was safe and that her experience was pleasurable. She did trust him; she trusted his knowledge, she trusted his judgement, she trusted his love for her.
By the time her lunchbreak came around, she had made up her mind; she’d try it once. If it worked out, she’d be willing to try it again. If it didn’t, if she felt unsafe, then she’d insist they used safewords in the future.
“You’re sure?” he asked gravely, as she led him into one of the small private rooms off one of their wards.
“You hurt me, but you don’t harm me,” she told him, echoing the words he’d said way back when they first started. “I have no reason to believe that you’re going to start now.”
He nodded, his face still serious.
“I’m going to want to do a full work-up,” he warned. “I’m going to want to test for a hundred different non-standard things, Chris. This isn’t something we’re going to play with tonight.”
“I understand,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. I know this is you taking care of me.”
“Damn right,” he growled, pulling her to him for a long, satisfying hug. “Now,” he said firmly, spanking her once, hard, on the ass. “Hop up on that biobed, and we’ll get started.”
It was a long time before either of them mentioned the idea; real life intervened, and the medical work-ups did take a long time. It frustrated Christine that he wouldn’t let her see the results, but she knew that she’d probably be able to guess what drugs he intended to use if she did. He did all the lab work himself, not trusting any of their techs to do any of it. This took him away from her during their off-shift times, but did allow her to catch glimpses of him in the standard white lab coat, which was strangely alluring.
At her request, he brought the lab coat back to their cabin with him.
The six week cycle of their shift patterns caught them out also, forcing them to spend almost two weeks with nothing more than a few snatched rolls in the sheets, one yawning with fatigue, the other just waking. Their toybox stayed resolutely shut, and Christine was starting to feel the loss.
But good things come to those who wait, and one morning when their shifts stabilised again, Christine found herself pushed face-first down into their mattress and held there firmly with one of his strong hands on her neck.
“You’re to keep yourself hydrated today,” he informed her coolly. “I want to see you drink at least four litres of water when you’re on shift, and another litre when you go off shift. I want you back here at eighteen hundred hours, naked, kneeling at the side of the bed, ready to play. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Christine gasped. “Yes, I understand.”
Her mind swam. Five litres of fluid? She’d be running to the bathroom all day. But his instructions weren’t dangerous, and clearly had some bearing on their evening’s activities. Fear rolled in her stomach, but it was fear mixed with anticipation and more than a little arousal.
She had never peed so much in her life. Some of her nurses were giving her strange looks as she replicated glass after glass of water, but she complained about last night’s mess curry being too strong for her and they let it pass. She tried to limit her comfort breaks to an acceptable number, but more than once McCoy watched her, smirking, as she shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He left to go to the bridge part way through the tail end of her shift, and she was glad he had disappeared. Having him lurk around sickbay only reminded her of what he had planned for that evening. Every time she picked up a hypospray she would flinch slightly, thinking of the activities that evening she would have no control over.
She showered after her shift, hoping that the hot spray would take away her nervousness. At some point during the day he’d been back in their quarters, and the toybox was now displayed prominently in the middle of the bed, a silent invitation to pleasure.
She towelled herself off and rubbed the silky-smooth lotion Len had bought her into her skin. It smelled of peaches, and always made him growl and nibble at the back of her neck. She was ready ten minutes before eighteen hundred hours, and spent the time kneeling in position, breathing deeply to calm her nerves. It was odd; none of the other games they had played had ever made her feel this nervous. It was the absence of planning on her part, she realised. Normally everything was discussed and negotiated in advance. Now she would be choosing to render herself helpless, and for the first time she would truly be at the mercy of Len with no ability to stop him doing whatever he wanted to her.
She should be scared, and she was, a little. But mostly, she was turned on.
The sound of the doors opening made her head jerk sideways, but he immediately barked “Eyes down!” and she hurriedly obeyed.
She heard him move around the room, opening a closet door and handling glass. He moved closer to her, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Last chance to back out,” he said softly. “From this point on, we play until I say stop, Christine.”
“I understand,” she told him, still looking down at the floor. “And I want to continue.”
He let out a satisfied sigh.
“Very good,” he said. “Look up at me now.”
She did, and he held a small wooden box in his hand. Inside it were seven or eight glass ampules, filled with liquids of all colors. There were no identifying markers on the vials and sickbay ident codes had been removed.
“Choose one of the vials,” he instructed. “I’ve added a colorant to each of them so I know which is which. It will have no effect other than that.”
Christine looked closely at the choices she had; her eye was caught by a fiery red liquid, and her hand hesitated over it, before she changed her mind and hovered over a turquoise vial instead. Then another vial, tucked away in the corner of the box, caught her eye. It was a milky-white color, and seemed quite plain when compared to the rest of the drugs.
“That one,” she said, decidedly.
“Alright,” he said taking the glass vial from her hand and setting the box down carefully on the bedside table. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and loaded up an empty hypospray, then without warning pressed it against her neck and depressed the trigger.
“Right,” he said briskly. “Get up on the bed.”
She scrambled to obey, and he opened the toybox to reveal their collection. He selected her blue wrist and ankle cuffs, and after a moment’s thought, took out the collar that matched as well. As soon as the collar snapped shut around her neck, Christine felt a little better. Wearing the collar always made her feel calm, because the collar signified a loss of control. She couldn’t worry about anything anymore, because she had no more decisions to make, everything was out of her hands.
She offered her wrists silently for the cuffs to fasten around, and her ankles were similarly bound.
“Beautiful,” Len said, putting two fingers under her chin and tipping her head back. He leant over and kissed her, fisting a hand in her hair to keep her head in place as he completely ravaged her mouth.
“Pile the pillows behind you,” he ordered, stepping away from her. “I want you sitting up, with your back supported and your legs bent.”
She went about her task as he rummaged about in the toybox, She saw him attach magnetic clamps to the walls either side of the headboard that would serve as anchors to restraints, and he attached two more, one either side of the bottom of the bed.
“In position now,” he ordered, and she hurriedly laced herself in the middle of the pile of cushions. She was very comfortable, and her back was well supported. She sat there obediently as her lover pulled out coils of the tethering metallic rope he had purchased from Chaud’s shop, and quickly and efficiently looped it through the clips on the cuffs and through the clamps on the wall. Christine was now firmly tied in place. A quick test of the ropes found that she couldn’t move an inch.
Her heartbeat quickened. What was going to happen next? She cleared her throat experimentally, and she was able to make a noise; either the drug wasn’t working yet, or it wasn’t one that affected her voice.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not about that.
Len looked up from his position as the end of the bed and grinned.
“You go on and make as much noise as you want, honey,” he told her. “That don’t matter none. The room’s on quiet.”
He must have engaged the soundproofing when she had been staring at the floor, she thought. So, whatever was going to happen to her, it was nothing to do with her voice.
She watched as Len busied himself around the room, fetching towels and a washcloth from the bathroom, lubricant from the toybox and a tricorder from a bag on the desk. He brought that close to her and ran it along the length of her body, staring at the readout.
“Good,” he said to himself. “Good, it’s starting.”
Christine found herself holding her breath, waiting for something to happen. She had to release it when there was no immediate response.
“You smell good enough to eat,” he said huskily, leaning in to kiss along her neck, strong, biting kisses that would leave marks on her pale skin.
She shivered and moaned a little as he ravaged her neck. She tried to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, but the ropes stopped her from moving at all. He chuckled as he heard the rattle of the rope against the clamps.
“You stay put,” he told her. “You don’t move, you hear?”
“Yes,” she gasped, as he ran his hand down over her neck and squeezed, cutting off her air. He kept his hand there firmly as he leant in to kiss her again, releasing his hold then tightening again in unpredictable patterns. Christine felt the familiar tightness in her chest as her airway fought to suck in vital oxygen. She lost track of time as he contracted and relaxed his hand, her head becoming light and pleasure starting to bubble through her veins. He shifted position to dip his hand between her thighs, and he was pleased when his fingers came back wet. He offered them to her to clean, and she licked the taste of herself off them with pleasure.
“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he grumbled, and shifted position so that he was lying on his chest between her bent legs.
Christine groaned hoarsely as his dark head dipped and began the delicious task of eating her out. She was concentrating so hard on the sensations there that she missed the first signs of the drug kicking in, but when she moved position slightly to allow him easier access she felt the first twinges of pain in her breasts.
“Ah!” she gasped in surprise.
He looked up from between her thighs.
“Starting to work?” he asked, and she nodded, biting her lip as another flash of pain raced across her upper chest.
“What…did you…do?” she panted, groaning as her breasts began feeling heavier, and fuller.
“Oh no,” he laughed. “That would be telling,” and he returned his attention to teasing the dripping slit between her legs.
From her humble point of view, her man was an expert at oral sex, and usually she would have delighted in the protracted session he was offering her. But no amount of clever tongue flicks, short bursts of suction and careful grazes of his teeth across her sensitive clit could distract her from the fact that her breasts were swelling, right before her very eyes.
Christine had always had a secret pride in her bust; she was a well endowed woman, and many of her friends had commented enviously on the size of her breasts. But now they were increasing in size, becoming heavy and full. They were becoming painful, and her nipples, already erect from Len’s attentions, were also becoming tight and aching.
She could only imagine what she would look like if somebody entered the room, unexpectedly. Tethered into position on the bed, displaying her entire body for the gaze of her lover, breasts swelling beyond their normal size, pussy dripping with her juices, red marks of possession on her neck. Thinking about the exaggerated size of her breasts made her look down at them, and she was shocked to see them increase in size still further. She looked like one of the surgically altered porn stars that were so popular, all curves and out-of-proportion breasts that bounced and jiggled as they performed for the camera.
Except there’d be no bouncing for her, she realised, as she gasped in pain and her nipples tightened again. Her breasts felt as heavy as lead, and about as solid. A trickle of moisture running down her chest and her stomach made her pay attention to her torso, and she let out a strangled shout of shock.
“Shit!” she cursed inelegantly. “Fuck, Len, look!”
His face appeared from between her thighs, smeared with wetness from her core.
“Look at you,” he said admiringly. “God damn it Christine, just look at you.”
He shifted position, and skimmed his hands up across her thighs and her stomach, up to her grossly inflated bust. She yelped slightly as he squeezed at the giant globes, now so large that even he, with his big hands, couldn’t stop them spilling out of his grasp. As he squeezed, liquid trickled out of her nipples, and ran over his hands.
“Is that…is that…” she panted, and he nodded, delighted.
“It’s milk, honey,” he told her, beaming.
He put one of his fingers in his mouth and licked up the trickle of milk that had run over it. He pulled it from his mouth with a satisfied popping sound.
“Mmm,” he pronounced. “Delicious.”
And then he bent his head and suckled directly at her nipple.
It was like an explosion of fireworks going off in her chest. Painful, at first, as he sucked hard at one nipple, then the other, but after a moment the milk started to flow and as soon as it did it was like her nipples were directly linked to her clit, and it throbbed in time to the pressure in her breasts.
She’d never accuse him of failure to multitask again; as he kept up a continual sucking at her breasts, he reached down and rubbed firmly at her clit with just the amount of intensity she needed to come immediately. She was wracked with pleasure, twisting in her bonds as she came time and time again, gasping out nonsense as she watched the white liquid cascade down her body from the nipple that was currently unoccupied.
“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, fuck me, fuck me.”
He ignored her thrust two fingers deeply inside her instead, preferring to stay suckling at her breasts. He had milk smeared over his face now, mingling with her other juices, and she longed to lean over and lick them from him, to taste her milk mixed with the masculine taste of him. But she was denied, the ropes keeping her firmly in place.
She was going out of her mind; the pressure in her breasts was decreasing in intensity, but the pleasure she was feeling was making her so wet around his hand that he was able to fit a third finger inside her, something that was usually uncomfortable without lube. He withdrew his fingers as he adjusted his position on the bed, pulling down the zipper on his pants to pull out his heavy, erect cock. She moaned in frustration at the loss of him, but he chuckled and reinserted his fingers, this time changing their position so they rubbed against a sensitive spot inside her.
A different feeling came over her, one very much like her usual orgasms, but this felt deeper, somehow, and stronger. As her pussy contracted she felt a rush of fluid leave her, drenching his hand.
“There we go,” he said, pleased. “You’re squirting all over the place now, aren’t you?”
She collapsed back against the pillows, utterly drained yet feeling completely alive at the same time. Every inch of her skin felt like it was hardwired to her clit, and every suckle and kiss to her breasts made pleasure and pain flare up simultaneously.
He withdrew his fingers from her drenched pussy, and shifted position on the bed so he was straddling her upper body. He smeared his wet fingers over her breasts, which were already wet from a mixture of his saliva and her milk, which was still oozing from her nipples, although not as much as it had before.
“I thought I’d need lube for this,” he said admiringly as he held her breasts in his hands, pushing them together. “But you’re just so god damned wet, honey, I can do it without.”
He lined up his cock and pushed it in between the pillow of her breasts. Although to her they still felt hard, they were clearly soft enough for his purposes, and he thrust roughly between them. Milk still oozed from her nipples as he pushed her breasts together and pumped his cock, fucking them firmly. He didn’t speak, so total was his concentration on sliding his cock in and out of the tight, wet hole he had made. She writhed beneath him, as much as she could under his weight and with the cuffs holding her in place.
“Want to suck you,” she pleaded. “Come in my mouth, please, fuck my mouth!”
“No,” he panted, still keeping up his thrusts. “No, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”
He didn’t finish, groaning loudly instead as he spurted over her breasts, striping her with his come. He sat back on his heels, jerking the last of it out, watching it spatter over her sweat-and-milk-and come-drenched body.
She was utterly wrecked, she knew; sweat poured from her hairline, milk still oozed sluggishly from her breasts, she could feel her own pussy fluid coating her thighs and she had his thick, white semen decorating her breasts and torso. He began the usual ritual of feeding her his semen from his fingers, but this time he squeezed some of her milk from one of her breasts and trickled it over her lips also.
She was silent as he stood and discarded his ruined clothes, stained with their combined fluids. She winced as he began to carefully clean her up, patting her skin with a damp washcloth.
“ ‘scold,” she complained eventually.
“I should have thought of that,” he said ruefully. “But I was having such a good time eating you out I didn’t notice how long we were playing.”
“How long?” she asked craning her neck to look at a chronometer.
“Three hours,” he confirmed.
“You’re kidding me!” she said, astonished.
“It’s true,” he said. “You were well and truly out of it for a while there. Come on. We’re going to have to shower.”
He unfastened the restraint rope, but left her cuffs and collar on as he guided her into the bathroom. Her legs were unsteady, so he made her sit on the closed toilet seat while he replicated an energy drink high in sugar. As she sipped it carefully, he went back into the bedroom and efficiently stripped the bed, bundling everything into the laundry chute and replacing it with fresh bedding. By this time Christine was feeling less light-headed, so they shared a leisurely shower, spending more time kissing and stroking each other’s bodies that doing any active cleaning. Luckily, the hot water did all that for them.
Christine watched as her breasts grew steadily smaller as time passed. They still contained milk, and she purred in pleasure as Len stood behind her, grasped a breast in each hand and squeezed. The rhythmic squeezing was pleasurable, and it was a strangely erotic experience, watching her milk squirt out of her nipples, to be washed away down the drain. Len clearly thought so too, because she felt him harden and rub insistently against her hip. Without being told, she bent at the waist and held her ankles in her hands, presenting herself to him for use. This was his favourite sex-in-the-shower position, and he slid into her immediately, pounding hard. She didn’t have the energy for another orgasm herself, and contented herself with his pleasure as he came groaning her name.
They crawled into bed exhausted, and she found herself curled in his arms straight away.
“How was that?” he asked, kissing her forehead.
“Unbelievable,” she sighed. “Wonderful. Perfect.”
“I’m glad,” he said, kissing her again. “That’s been a fantasy of mine for a very long time, and you were spectacular.”
“How long before my breasts are back to normal?” she asked, glancing down. They were still enlarged, although not to the massive proportions they had reached earlier.
“They’ll be almost normal in the morning,” he promised. “Not very much bigger than they are usually. You could pretend you’re wearing a different bra, if anybody commented. It’ll be completely normal again by tomorrow evening. There may be a little leakage still, during the day. I’ve got you some pads to fit in your bra, just in case.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by your office during shift, let you suck it out of me,” Christine said sleepily.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he warned, and she laughed before kissing him goodnight and dropping off to sleep. He wasn’t long behind her; but before he did, he looked over to the box containing the rest of the colourful vials, and thought about which one of his fantasies she would choose to indulge next. Whichever one it was, he thought happily, he couldn’t wait for it to happen.
cash loan