Confession

This story was inspired by one of my favorite authors here on literotica, Apophenia. More specifically, you may want to read Seduced By My Doctor as a prequel to this tale. Ordinarily, I would not only give credit but ask permission before writing a sequel to someone else's story, but if you've read any of her stories, asking permission would be out of character!

Let me echo her disclaimer: this is a fantasy, not an endorsement of non-consensual sex.

My gynecologist tricked and fucked me. Raped, I would say, if I hadn't enjoyed it so much. I went home feeling hurt, guilty, confused, fearful, sexually satisfied and horny all at once. I had even made a follow-up appointment for the following week at the doctor's insistence; he apparently planned to keep fucking me until he got me pregnant, knowing I wasn't on birth control and my husband was infertile.

I called in sick to work, caught the bus home and poured myself a glass of wine -- then stopped, thought I'd better not drink it if I was pregnant. Wait, what the hell? Was I actually going to carry the baby, if there was one? Damn! I was so mixed up I didn't know what to do.

I decided I had to fess up to my husband. Perhaps -- most likely? -- he would dump me, but that would be better than lying by omission: he'd always been kind and loving and deserved to know I'd betrayed him. I hoped against hope he'd give me another chance and help me decide what to do. I would do anything he asked of me.

I decided one glass might be OK; I gulped it down, then curled up on the couch and cried. My pussy distracted me. The truth was my husband hadn't seemed much interested in sex in the past several months; I'd gone to the doctor for cramps during my period, which had gotten worse the last few times.

The doctor said the cramps were because I needed more sex, which he proceeded to provide. But I wasn't suffering cramps at the time, in fact, I was near the middle of my fertile cycle, a fact he was well aware of. Oh god it had felt good; even as I begged him to stop my entire body had screamed 'more, more!'. If only my husband desired me, lusted after me the way the doctor did! I was still young and in good shape, hadn't gained more than five pounds since getting married, why didn't he want me?

When he called out "Honey, I'm home!" I roused myself to sit up. He came into the living room and saw my tears; "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Sit down, dear-heart, I've got something to tell you. It'll hurt. Please promise me you won't do anything rash."

He sat next to me, gave me a hug, kissed my hair and said "OK, tell me."

I explained about the doctor, how he'd tricked me, told me he was going to relax me but aroused me instead, fucked me, spewed his sperm into my unprotected vagina.

"I see. Should we file charges? Move to have him disbarred?"

"I'm not sure. It would be my word against his, and in truth he asked me if I wanted him to stop at one point and I was so turned on I begged him to continue."

"I see. Get up off the couch."

His voice was stern, flat, deadly cold. I obeyed instinctively.

"Go to the bedroom and strip yourself naked."

I gasped and covered my mouth, trembling and looking into his eyes; they seemed hard and cold. I walked to the bedroom and stacked my clothes on the dresser.

He came in and said "Lay face down." I did so.

I heard him open a closet; then he climbed over me, his knees on either side of my waist. "Put your hands above your head."

I complied and he bound them together with one of his ties, then used another to tie me to the headboard. I was whimpering and shaking in fear -- he'd never acted anything like this before!

He got back off the bed and left the room. I just lay there, determined to let him work his anger out on me however he chose -- maybe then he'd forgive me.

He came back and I felt him tie some nylon cords around my ankles; then he spread my legs out and secured the ropes to the bedframe. I was spread-eagled, naked, trying to be brave, but I couldn't help shivering.

I heard what sounded like his clothes coming off, then the frightening snap of leather -- his belt, I assumed, folded over itself and pulled quickly taught. He moved back on the bed and pushed several pillows under my hips, raising my ass and stretching me against the bindings.

"So, you little whore, you let another man use you."

"Y-yes, I'm s-sorry."

"You should be! You're no better than that bitch that browbeat me into getting sterilized!" I knew he was still angry with his first wife but I heard the swish of the belt and then the sharp sting as it landed on my ass. I shrieked.

"Tell me exactly what he did!"

I tried desperately to remember exactly how them doctor had seduced me, starting with his soothing voice, his fingers, then progressing to his swollen cock invading me and his harsh, sneering manner when I tried to ask him to stop.

As I related all this the belt came crashing down every so often, punctuating my tale of the doctor's escalation. When I told about feeling his cock my husband put aside the belt and pushed his own swollen tool against my slit. I whimpered, my ass and thighs burning from the lashings he'd given them.

"Keep talking, bitch! What next?"

I continued the story as my husband fucked me. A massive orgasm ripped through me and then my husband emptied his spermless cum into my vagina.

He pulled out, freed my arms and legs, turned me to face him and gave me a torrid, hungry kiss. I returned it eagerly -- was I forgiven? My ass, thighs and pussy were all sore but I didn't care.

I slept soundly in his arms. The alarm went off earlier than I expected; he got up, brought me a hot cup of coffee (must've set that early as well) and ran water for a bath.

He led me to the tub and I proceeded to wash my hair and body while he left the room. Then he came back and carefully shaved me, armpits, legs and pussy. After drying me off he sat me in front of the bathroom mirror and directed my application of makeup -- rather heavier than I would normally wear to work. He then ordered me to get dressed.

I stopped when I got to the bed -- he'd laid out a skimpy white tennis skirt and a tight, light pink blouse, along with a pair of sheer black hose (which had elastic at the top to keep them up) and a bra with open cups. On the floor were my hot pink, three-inch, open-toed 'fuck me' pumps.

I turned to look at him but he said "Go ahead, slut, put on your uniform." I fought back a tear -- apparently he was a long way from forgiving me. This outfit might well get me fired or fucked at work -- or both. Before putting on the pumps I moved toward the chest of drawers.

"What do you think you're doing, bitch?"

I froze. "Getting some panties."

"Sluts don't need panties. They just get in the way."

I put on the shoes and he sat me down again to brush out my hair, then gave a satisfied nod. "When you cheat again, slut, I expect details. Lots of details. Now get yourself off...to work."

Waiting at the bus stop I started to sit but decided I'd better stand. Cars and trucks slowed to a crawl as they passed me. The bus was crowded, as usual, with no seats available; I stood holding on to an overhead bar, my nipples jutting out against the thin fabric of my blouse. I felt a trickle of moisture make its way down one leg. Someone behind me felt up my ass.

At work the men arched eyebrows, checked me out up and down and nodded approval. The women gasped, sneered and averted their eyes. When the boss came in he stopped at my desk, put a hand on my shoulder, leaned in close and said "Show me...what you're working on." My pussy got even wetter. He squeezed my shoulder and said "Keep up the good work."

As lunch time neared he buzzed me, "Please bring me the Turnberg file." It was at the very back of a bottom drawer of some file cabinets directly opposite his door, and he stood there watching me as I bent over to extract it. When I brought it to him he said "Come in for a minute, I have something to discuss with you."

He closed the door behind me; I expected to be censured for my inappropriate dress. Instead he pointed to a table and said "Put your hands on the table, push your legs back and bend over."

I did so and heard his clothes rustling; soon I felt his fingers spreading my cunt lips, then his cock pushing inside me. I reminded myself to note the sequence of events for my husband...

Some years later

My husband is a wonderful father to our three children, now aged two, four and six; I'm seven months along on baby number four. He quit calling me bitch after the first baby arrived; now it's 'Honey' and 'Darling' out loud, 'Slut Mama' or 'Dear-Whore' privately, such as when we make love, which thankfully is at least two or three times a week. He earns well above six figures working mostly from home, but ordered me to keep my clerical job to 'get me out of the house.' But he still won't let me wear panties, and insists on hearing details. All the details. *Sigh*.