Deleted Scene/ Elizabeth Jane’s Diary Entry
Elizabeth Jane
As my mom drives me home from the doctor’s appointment where Dr. Monroe fucked my brains out, I find it ironic that she’s the one who looks satisfied. I want to laugh, but I also don’t want to let her in on the secret of what really goes on during the doctor’s appointments she herself set up and insisted I go to, so as to certify my physical and mental purity.
I'm still happy my fantasies became a reality with Dr. Monroe. If my mom only knew that he stuffed his big cock inside me after ramming it down my throat, she’d never let me go back for another appointment. Or, more likely, she’d die of jealousy.
I don’t think my mom’s been touched by a man since my dad left her crochety ass years ago. And it’s obvious to me that she has the not-so-secret hots for Dr. Monroe.
“Dr. Monroe continues to note positive progress,” Mom tells me, staring at the road in front of her while smiling smugly. “But you must really be a wreck, because even though he said you passed the physical portion of the exam, he reports that he needs to continue seeing you for future appointments. Apparently, he hasn't even begun to examine your mental state. The jury’s still out on that one.”
She says it as if she’s pleased. I guess she’s happy she’s screwed up my head. A childhood and adolescence spent living with her would do that to anyone.
I hate that I have to keep living with her so that I can afford to go to college. I can’t wait to graduate and move far away from her, though. I know I’ll never look back.
“Mom, there’s nothing wrong with my mental state…” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“You are your father’s daughter, after all,” she continues. “And both of you have the tendency to be immoral, selfish people, and disgustingly filthy when it comes to s-e-x.”
I sigh, realizing it’s not worth it to fight with her. She has her mind made up about me and obviously wants to drive me away, just as I'm sure she did to my dad.
As long as I get to see hot Dr. Monroe again, I really don’t care what Mom says to me. She can berate me and make me feel horrible, but being with Dr. Monroe always makes me feel better.
I’m glad that he wants to keep “examining” my physical state in his doctor’s office. He can spread me wide open any time he wants and do anything else he wants to do to me, too. Just so long as he doesn't tell my mother!
When we get home, I retreat to my room to write tonight's diary entry about Dr. Monroe. I love fantasizing about all the dirty, naughty things he does to me and even more things that I hope he does to me soon.
This is what I write:
I'm supposed to have a private, one on one appointment with Dr. Monroe. But when I walk into the lobby, the doors open, but no one’s here. I look around, crestfallen that he would forget about the appointment he specifically requested that my mother call and make.
Wasn’t he looking forward to one on one time with me? I wonder. It sure seemed that way when we were in his office last time.
Then I notice something black and leather, strewn over one of the chairs. It's a strange-looking outfit. And along with it is a note.
Wear this and meet me in the examination room.
I pick up the outfit and can’t believe how skimpy it is. It consists of a halter top, with some flaps of fabric that cover the breast area, and then it has two strips of leather running down each side, with chains across the stomach area.
The bottom is like a bathing suit, except that there’s a v-like slit through the vagina area, which can expose everything by simply moving the fabric open. And underneath the armchair is a pair of long, high black boots.
Oh great, I think. He wants me to be some kind of BDSM submissive now.
I want to be repulsed. But I feel a trickle of wetness in my panties. I look at the size of the outfit and boots and they match my own. I feel flattered that Dr. Monroe took the time to find an outfit that would fit me just right.
Maybe my mom is right, I think. Maybe I am depraved. A sexual deviant. Someone who enjoys sexual pain and humiliation.
But I remove my clothes and start putting on the outfit anyway. Partly I do it because Dr. Monroe needs to give a good report to my mom, so I know I’m completely subject to his whims. But partly it’s because I like being subjected to his whims. And I want to see where all of this leads.
I tiptoe into the exam room, careful to clasp my sweater tight around my black leather outfit. It shows so much skin that I’m practically naked. Even though I don’t mind Dr. Monroe seeing me this way— in fact, the thought of it very much turns me on— I’m afraid there might be someone else in the office, which would be humiliating.
“Yes, Elizabeth Jane, come on in,” says Dr. Monroe, standing up from where he was seated in a rolling chair.
A visible glimmer of happiness flashes in his eyes, which I can see from the dark entranceway to the classroom. I feel good about my ability to elicit such a welcoming response, but I guess Dr. Monroe feels embarrassed about it, because his tone suddenly changes.
“You’re late. You’ve kept me waiting. That’s not being a very good, submissive little patient."
I stop in my tracks and tense up. What exactly does he have in mind to do to me?
“Close the door, Elizabeth Jane,” Dr. Monroe instructs me. “And for Christ’s sake, take off that awful sweater. It looks like some sort of grandmother’s shawl. That’s not what I left for you to put on, and you know it.”
I gulp, but obediently drop the sweater onto the floor. I’m standing here nearly fully exposed, in the outfit he had given me to wear.
“Welcome to my continued examination of you,” Dr. Monroe says, turning on his dictation machine and recording every word. “You are the subject I'll be studying today.”
Dr. Monroe approaches me and gently kisses my cheek.
And then he unfastens the thin piece of fabric covering my left breast. My nipple is exposed to him. He speaks louder now.
“I have already recorded how controlling and strict your mother is. How she caught you masturbating and sent you to me, the family doctor to be examined.”
He is half laughing as he says this, and even though I know my mother is ridiculous, I feel defensive. I feel stupid that I have such a crazy mother, but at the same time I feel strangely protective of her.
Dr. Monroe unfastens the fabric covering my right breast so that now both of my nipples are exposed to him. He stands behind me and begins circling my nipples with his fingers, breathing into my neck as he speaks. I'm quickly aroused by his touch.
“I think your mother’s attempts to control you have backfired, and now you’ll let me do anything I want with you, and enjoy it.”
He circles once, twice, squeezing my nipples with his fingers, until all my senses become aroused. I can smell the chalk on the chalkboard. I can smell his masculine cologne.
“Now I'm tasked with studying the mental state of a young woman who was raised to hate sex but instead loves it.”
He takes my hands and leads me to a wall behind the examination table. I see for the first time that there are hooks on the wall. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m intrigued.
Dr. Monroe lays me down on the examination table. Then he takes my arms and ties them to the hooks behind me. Finally, just as I was hoping he would do, he opens my legs wide. He opens the “v” of the fabric barely covering my pussy, until it’s not covering it any more at all.
“If I leave your legs untied, will you be a compliant patient?” Dr. Monroe asks.
He is looking at me as if he wants to devour me, like the lion in the wild that Diana's favorite professor, Dr. Calvert, likes to tell us about. Once again, I feel vulnerable and scared, but also strangely excited and turned on. He always knows just how to give me a mix of every kind of emotion.
“Yes, Dr. Monroe."
I know deep down that even though I'm scared, I'll let him do whatever he wants to do with me, and I’ll enjoy it. As long as it doesn’t hurt too much.
“I'm going to hold both of your legs wide open so that you don’t start kicking around in either pain or pleasure, or both,” Dr. Monroe says into the recording device.
I cringe when I hear the word “pain” but I wait obediently for whatever will happen next.
Then Dr. Monroe bends over to the floor, where his briefcase is sitting. And he takes out a very large vibrator.
“I know you enjoy being finger fucked, because it makes you feel like a dirty little slut,” he tells me. “And now you’re going to be my dirty little slut. So, let’s see how you enjoy being primed for my big dick.”
He grabs my legs and forces them apart. Then he puts the vibrator deep into my pussy. As he does so, he takes his cock out of his pants and begins jerking off to the sight of my pussy being fucked by a vibrator.
"Your pussy is so wide open and wet for this vibrator, Elizabeth Jane," Dr. Monroe says, turning it further and deeper inside me and then angling it so it can hum up against my clit as well. "I love watching your pussy squirm as it fucks you."
I writhe around on the examination table, feeling good as the vibrator fucks me good and hard. It’s nothing like Dr. Monroe's cock, but it still feels great.
I feel almost embarrassed knowing that he's watching me in the most vulnerable of positions, with my legs spread wide open and a vibrator jammed inside my pussy. But I also have to admit that I love the fact that I'm turning him on by being so turned on myself.
“This toy is extremely wet,” Dr. Monroe says, pulling the vibrator out and continuing to speak into the tape. “The more sexually repressed a young woman is, the more she’ll get turned on when she’s finally able to find a release.”
He places the vibrator— definitely dripping wet with my pussy juice— on my clit, almost expertly so. I can’t help but moan as it works on my most sensitive of areas. I raise my hips instinctively, wanting it— or better yet, its real, live counterpart— inside me, but not wanting to seem too slutty by begging for it.
Before I know it, I'm coming all over the vibrator, moaning and shouting as I do.
"Dr. Monroe. I'm coming. I'm coming!"
"Go ahead and keep coming," he says, rubbing the dildo all over my clit.
I feel another orgasm rising within me before the first one is even finished making its way out.
"I'm coming again. Again!"
"I know you are, my slutty little patient. Come for me, over and over."
"Oh, my God, Oh, my God," I moan, panting and moaning.
"Please stop for a second," I call out, trying to sit up and push the vibrator away with my hands.
But my hands are tied up and I can't do anything about the continuing hum of the vibrator attacking my clit.
"It's all right, Elizabeth Jane, my little slutty whore of a patient," Dr. Monroe says, in a near whisper although there's no reason to be quiet since no one else is around. He smiles at me. "Just when you think you can't take it anymore is when you'll have the biggest orgasm yet. And that's when you'll be sufficiently pleasured and primed to take my huge cock inside you."
"Dr. Monroe," I gasp, twisting and writhing on the table. "I can't take it. It's too sensitive. I'm going to explode."
I really do feel like I could die of pleasure. He squeezes my ass and then shoves the vibrator deep into my pussy. Then he slaps my clit over and over with his cock, violently rubbing it and stabbing me with it.
"Oh, my God," I cry out, a powerful orgasm cascading all through my body.
Dr. Monroe was right. This feels amazing.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I can't stop, please fuck me, I'm coming so much, and it feels so good."
I'm a panting, begging mess, calling out to him to finish me off with his real cock instead of this fake one.
"Please Dr. Monroe, please fuck me. I'm your dirty little whore of a patient and you can do whatever you want to me."
"That's right," Dr. Monroe says. "That's how I knew you would feel. There, there."
He stokes my pussy as I whimper and tremble, utterly spent from the giant orgasm that made its way through my body. My swollen clit pulses and my pussy muscles spasm from the pleasure they've just experienced and from being so sensitive to Dr. Monroe's continued touches.
“Now that your pussy is sufficiently primed by the fake dick— it's wet and aching and swollen and raw for me— I'm going to give you my real one."
Dr. Monroe pushes the head of his cock up against the entrance of my now- throbbing pussy. I immediately clench my pussy around his cock, feeling so grateful to have it inside me at last.
Then he shoves his cock into my pussy, hard and fast.
“Ouch!” I yell, jerking back against the roughness of Dr. Monroe's huge cock. I can't get out of the way though, because he's tied me up. And almost immediately the pleasure outweighs the pain, so I relax.
“There you go, my little naughty nympho," Dr. Monroe coos to me. "You love my big, thick cock inside you, don’t you, my tied-up little whore?”
"Yes," I moan, already about to come again, but this time on his cock.
He keeps a firm finger pressed up against my clit, as if reminding me that he owns it. Then he turns the vibrator back on and rubs it all around my clit as he continues to fuck my pussy hole.
"I'm coming," I whisper, almost wanting to cry from how good it feels. How absolutely powerless and vulnerable he renders me, and how much I love it. "Dr. Monroe, I'm such a slut. I can't stop coming and now I'm coming all over your big cock."
"I'm going to have to punish you for being such a shameless slut," Dr. Monroe says. It's only what your mother would want."
He retrieves something from the drawer beneath the exam table as he continues to ram his cock into my pussy. I see something long and black. Then I feel something hitting my breasts. There are one, two, three quick lashes.
“Ouch! That hurts!” I yell, pain searing my breasts.
But at the same time, I feel as if I’m about to come again from the mixed sensation of the vibrator on my clit, the stinging pain on my breasts and Dr. Monroe's huge cock shoved deep inside my pussy. I feel absolutely humiliated, knowing that he can see me in my most vulnerable of states. But that humiliation also turns me on, and I find myself writhing and nearly shouting out, all of my sounds being captured on his recording device.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!”
“Oh yes, you little slut of mine. Come on my big dick,” says Dr. Monroe, as his cock pulses inside me.
But he doesn’t come. He just keeps pounding my pussy while I come for him.
"You're such a dirty, filthy little whore."
Dr. Monroe whips my breasts with the switch and I moan low and deep, surprising myself with the animal sounds I’m making as I come. It feels so good, and so bad, all at once.
“Yes, I’m a slut, who likes to come on your cock!” I yell, heaving and panting as he fucks my brains out.
I love how his cock feels inside me as he's taking me and making me his own, and even as I’m hit with the whip again and again.
I feel both pain and pleasure, just as Dr. Monroe predicted. Mostly, I feel intense pleasure that goes above and beyond everything I’ve experienced in his office to date. I never knew that would be possible, but there’s no denying that here I am on display for him, being submissive to him, being whipped by him, and loving it.
"Elizabeth Jane, I'm going to come now," Dr. Monroe says, squeezing my nipples where he had just hit me with the whip. His cock bulges and throbs inside me. "I love how you let me fuck you until I come."
"I'm coming too," I tell him. I've lost track of the number of times he'd made me come. He twists my nipple with one hand and rubs my clit with the other while we both come together, him grunting guttural sounds and me moaning and crying out his name.
"Dr. Monroe, I want to be your slutty little patient forever," I tell him, when we're both finished but still feel pleasure coursing through us.
"I think you're going to be more than that," he tells me, with a wink.
And this is why I'll keep accepting appointments to be examined by Dr. Monroe. I never knew that having to go see the doctor could be so amazing.
!
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By Eva Luxe; Edited and Published by Juliana Conners’ Sizzling Hot Reads Press.
Chapter 1
Amelia
“Oh, fuck yeah, babe.” Jason’s murmured words send his warm breath across the skin of my neck, and my body responds, hips thrusting harder, pulling him deeper inside me. The bed frame rattles beneath us as I dig my fingernails into the skin of his chest, my body hurtling towards climax with each thrust -
And then Jason is looking me in the eyes, saying, “I have a surprise for you, babe.” The pleasure stops as the door to our bedroom opens and I hear a familiar voice. “Hey, Amelia. Watch this.”
Suddenly I’m standing against the wall, my place atop Jason taken by a different woman - Violet. Her dark hair cascades down her naked back as she turns her head effortlessly to smile at me, and I see the ecstasy in her eyes ripple down through all her muscles as she cums on Jason’s cock -
“God damn it!” For the third night this week, that’s when I open my eyes. I’m in my bed, alone, which has become my new normal.
I can’t seem to sleep a night without having some kind of awful sex dream about Jason. My hands stiffen, realizing that my own juices are dry on my fingers. Great. I guess I was touching myself while I was sleeping again.
Apparently I can’t even touch myself without thinking of Jason the Jagoff and Violet the…bitch. I really need to come up with a more alliterative title for her at some point. Oh well.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that they’re still in my head - I mean, she’s nothing if not eternally selfish and grabby. He dumped me on a Tuesday and was parading around with her on his arm by Friday. Jason always had to have the shiniest tool in the shed. I should have realized it when he got with me after dumping his ex only a week prior. At least he had been single when I met him, though, which is more than Violet can say.
Now they’re off with each other, and somehow I’m still the one getting fucked without any of the fun parts. Sure, she’s gorgeous, but her personality is ugly. She takes great pride in bragging about breaking up our relationship. Whoever can do that is no one with any character and I know it, even if Jason’s doesn’t know it— or care.
I tell myself that what goes around comes around and that he’ll get his in the end. Still, it doesn’t do much to soothe my still aching heart. I’m all for karma coming back to get people, but why the hell does it have to take so long?
I roll over and open my bedside table drawer. Even in the near total darkness, the diamond ring inside still somehow glints at me. Every morning for almost four months, I’ve looked at it and resolved that today is the day I’m going to sell it. But every night, there it still is. Every glint off its surface is like the mocking laughter of the popular middle school girls who pushed me in the mud during recess in the fourth grade.
I used to be under the mistaken impression that life had gotten better since then. I’d grown up, gotten a job and a fiancé and things were going well. Until they weren’t. Now I’m left wondering if I’m destined to repeat my depressing school days forever.
I slam the drawer and flop back down into bed. I think about trying to touch myself again, consciously this time, but I have a bad feeling I won’t be able to stop thinking about Jason no matter which handsome actor’s face I try to conjure up. The last thing I want to do is think about him while pleasuring myself during my waking hours, even if I can’t seem to help doing it while dreaming.
I nearly smother myself with my pillow and will myself to fall back asleep instead. Everything will be better in the morning, I think, even though I know that’s a lie.