tagBDSMCare for the Sick

Care for the Sick

byangela146©

Author's note: This is a story that I started a few months ago and never finished. Looking back on it, the problem was that the incident was very brief and left me unsatisfied. It was a good start but there was no resolution.

So, I turned it into a fantasy, adding the elements that I wished had been there in the first place. The result is a collection of things that hubby and I have done at one time or another. We just didn't happen to do them all in the same evening.

Now that it's written, I suspect we'll live out the fantasy from beginning to end. Hubby knows how to take a hint and I'll make sure he reads this before I post. So, by the time you read these words, they will be a true story.


It's amazing to me that after ten years of living together and eight years of marriage, my husband can constantly come up with new ways of turning me on and/or dominating me.

Case in point: Yesterday I came down with a bad head cold. My nose and sinuses were, actually still are, clogged to the point where I can only breathe through my mouth. Of course, hubby took care of me, sending me to bed, bringing me chicken soup, pluffing my pillow and all that stuff. That's nothing new.

Late last night, he came up to bed. I sort of woke up when he entered the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started giving me a back rub, since I was already on my tummy. It was just what the doctor ordered. I hugged my pillow, enjoying it as I watched him take care of me.

After a minute or two, he said, "You're running a fever." Stopping for a moment, he reached into one of the drawers in the bed's pedestal. Finding the thermometer and alcohol wipes, he quickly cleaned it and stuck it into my mouth.

With my nose so completely stopped up, I couldn't keep my mouth closed. The temperature read 96. He looked at it and frowned. "Hmmm..." He rooted around in the drawer again, finding the other thermometer. Comparing them side by side, he closed up the original and returned it to the drawer.

I dozed off for a moment while he cleaned the second one. When I awakened a few seconds later, he was rooting around in the drawers again. There's a lot of stuff in those drawers, apparently including a fine-point permanent marker. He drew something on the thermometer and stowed the pen.

That's when this whole thing took a left turn.

"Spread your legs," he said.

I did, my mind still in a fog of half-sleep and not yet comprehending the situation. As he moved down my body, I realized what was going on and immediately snapped my legs back together.

"No fucking way!" I shouted. At that point, I was awake and started to turn away from him. But, he had the position advantage. He put one hand on the small of my back and put the thermometer aside with the other. Before I knew it, a very hard smack connected with my bottom.

"Hey!" I shouted.

Silently, he continued a series of hard slaps, ignoring my protests and restraining my squirming. The tender loving care wasn't tender anymore. This was a serious hand spanking and my cries of protest had no effect.

I quickly relented, spreading my legs as ordered.

"OK! OK! You win!" My center started to tingle as it usually does when he gets in a "no nonsense" mood.

"Eight more for disobeying me." I spread my legs wider and arched to him as he gave me two pairs of spanks on the top of each thigh.

Looking over my shoulder, I watched as he retrieved the thermometer and the skin crème. The tingles spread outward and down my legs when he used his fingers to lubricate the entryway to my bottom. I couldn't remember the last time I had had a rectal thermometer in me, but with him in this mood, I would go along with anything.

The thermometer went in with no trouble and no pain. It was small that it didn't even pry me open. It did, however, feel very silly and childish.

"Legs together." He was still ordering me and the obedience-factor added a lot to my excitement.

I closed my legs but kept my bottom arched. His hand held the thermometer in place and wiggled it just a little. I really don't like anal sex but this was OK. It was so small that it didn't hurt and I could actually enjoy the stimulation.

The feeling of submission, however, was incredible. It was humiliating to have that thing in my bottom with his hand on it. Very quickly, it beeped but he left it right where it was.

"Hold still," he said. I did, completely under his spell. He left the room and came back seconds later with a digital camera. I started to bury my face in the pillow, not daring to object.

"No," he warned, "Look at me. I want to capture the full color of your face."

I looked up at him, all the while squeezing the thermometer to try to keep it in place. He snapped several pictures from different angles. My face was very warm and I'm quite sure it wasn't all fever.

Then told me to relax my bottom. Surprisingly, the thermometer stayed put. More pictures from more angles.

Having captured my posterior for posterity, he put the camera down and returned to the edge of the bed. The thermometer felt strange coming back out and I was left with the bizarre feeling of wanting it back in.

"One oh one point two," he said. "Well, that settles it. You're staying in bed until that temperature returns to normal." Winking at me he, continued, "we'll check it every hour on the hour just to be safe."

I laughed. We had found another way for me to be obedient to him and have fun with it. In addition, we had found a way to have fun with anal sex, albeit with the smallest of "toys".

He cleaned the thermometer and returned it to the drawer, pausing to show me the "R" marked on the back. "Make sure you use the correct one... if you ever end up using it, that is."

"Um, sweetie?" I prodded, "Are you sure that was the right temperature? The flash from the camera might have affected the reading?" It was the flimsiest excuse on the planet but I wanted to play some more.

"You're right," he said. "I think I'll use another instrument to check your 'core' temperature."

With that, he climbed on top of me and straddled my legs. His alternate instrument was ready for insertion into my alternate orifice. I arched and he gently inserted, just as he had inserted the thermometer minutes earlier, but in a different place. Once inside, he stayed there, not moving.

Taking the opportunity, I squeezed him in rhythmic pulses, enjoying the stillness of his body. We stayed like that for several minutes, with him holding perfectly still and me massaging him from inside.

"How's your head?" he asked.

I tried to talk but was surprised by nasal drainage and ended up coughing.

"Whoa!" he said. "Do that again!"

I did, several more times, each of them eliciting a sigh or moan or expression of joy from the owner of my new thermometer. Still, he remained motionless, even as he started to come.

"Beep," he said, and we both laughed. He throbbed deep inside me, feeling more comfortable than exciting. But once the throbbing subsided, he started moving.

His hands pressed down on my back and his thighs gripped me. His hips began one of the most authoritative fuckings I can remember. With his weight on me, I couldn't move my arms from around the pillow under my chest. I didn't care. In fact, it helped to have something to hold onto.

Each of his thrusts gave me a firm bump on my bottom that radiated inside me. In fact, it was the warmth, the fullness, more than anything that made it so wonderful. Well, the complete lack of free will added a lot too.

After a minute, he paused briefly, releasing my back. "Hands underneath," he ordered.

I was surprised, but quickly moved my hands to the "touching" position. As soon as I did, he pressed down on my back again and resumed fucking me, slowly, constantly, commandingly.

"Go ahead," he prompted.

I wasn't going to start without permission but once he gave the word, I obeyed enthusiastically, or at least tried to. It was difficult with all of his weight on my back and hips. I couldn't get my fingers where I needed them and I couldn't tighten my legs quite right.

He sensed the problem and lay down flat on me. That distributed his weight over more of my body and put a lot of it onto the bed through his arms. Now I could reach with my fingers and squeeze with my thighs.

He held himself deep inside me and made only small thrusts. He didn't want to pop out and have to reinsert. Still, each thrust was just as authoritative as before.

My fingers flew all over my mons, in and out of the lips, dancing wherever there was pleasure to be given. My thighs worked hard, probably giving him a good workout too. I started to come very quickly, which prompted him to press and hold.

His back, tummy, thighs, arms and now his lips all touched me at the same time. I was trapped and wrapped in him. He held me in place as my convulsions turned me into a bronco. His overwhelming presence left me free to squirm and buck as much as I wanted to. Each movement pressed me into some part of him and gave me a taste of his strength. It was like being in a padded cell, knowing that you can let go completely and enjoy whatever you want.

When I finished, he stayed there, kissing my neck and fondling me for his amusement. Only then did I remember my head cold. My nose was dripping, sinuses were pounding and I needed to do something about it.

My request to him must have sounded like I was trying to talk underwater but the message was clear. He rolled off and let me blow my nose.

The endorphin rush from the intense sex didn't clear my sinuses but it sure made me feel better. "What's my temperature?" I asked.

"Very, very, very, very, hot," he gasped.

"Not exactly a precision instrument, is it?" I quipped.

The spanking resumed.

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