The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 05


"About who? That bland woman who couldn't keep you satisfied? That plain wife who told you 'no' when I've always said 'yes' and 'more.'"

"Stop it!"

"Why? Am I wrong? Did she not just...let this happen? Did she not let some teenage tramp with an always wet pussy and dirty mouth come in and destroy the illusion of her happy marriage? Is she not so disinterested in her husband's life beyond what he'll do for her that she doesn't even notice the way he's begun to look at their children's babysitter, with barely concealed, boiling lust? Is that who I'm not supposed to speak badly about?"

He had no good answer and so he said nothing. Instead he yanked her bra downward, freeing her proud breasts. He leaned forward and began to hungrily consume them, starting from where they settled against her chest and moving inward to her nipples, licking, sucking, and nibbling at every bit of exposed skin. While he focused on the right breast, his right hand caressed the left one, his fingers rolling her already firm nipple between them. When he moved his mouth to the left, he did vice versa with his left hand. It was the first time that she had allowed him to focus so much time on her tits and it was well worth the wait. She swore she felt a tiny orgasm light through her the first time he ever so slightly dragged his teeth over her nipple.

She urged him on with a gasped, "yes," here, a moaned, "more," there. Then, when her desire became such that she needed even more, she deliberately baited him, sighing, "You like my tits better, don't you?"

Again, he did not respond. But his hips did. The pace that had slackened while he lavished her chest with attention returned full force. To get the angle right for the speed, his head rose higher, bringing his jaw closer to her collarbone and the nape of her neck.

"Oh, and my pussy too? My nice, bald, tight teen pussy? Much preferred to hers that she won't even trim for you?"

Greg's anger rose once more, co-mingling with his lust. "Why couldn't she leave well enough alone?" he thought. "Why can't Mallory just be happy with winning, with making it impossible for me to ever go back to just vanilla sex? Why must she still needle, mock, and try to one-up me?"

The rage and lust birthed a third feeling desperation. Desperation to take control, desperation to make her feel like he did. And so he bit her. A small nip at first, one she barely noticed. And then harder. And then harder still, sucking in her flesh and sinking his teeth in at once.

True to her implied pledge, she cheered him, urged him to do as he wished, "Oh God! Oh! Ow! Yes. Bite! Harder! Hard as you want! I want everyone to see the bruises. God yes! Brand me with your teeth!"

He kept at it, leaving a trail of deeper, darker hickeys along her collar bone and up her neck. He regained a modicum of control and began to straighten up. In response, Mallory sat up and dragged her nails down his chest leaving bright red, angry lines. Greg cannot help himself and moaned in enjoyment of the shock of pain it caused him.

Mallory grinned, "Ooo, Dr. Clark likes a little bit of pain, doesn't he?"

Not bothering to wait for his response, she sprang further forward wrapping her lips around his left nipple, swirled her tongue around the tip and bit down ever so slightly, nails digging into his back to pull him in closer. Surprising himself and stunning her he quietly commanded, "Harder."

She obeyed, sucking the nipple deeper into her mouth and biting down further and still he bid her, "harder." And so it went for several moments, their thrusting slowing down in part because of body position, in part because their energies seemed to be almost fully focused on her mouth, her tongue, her ever further clenching teeth, and his nipple. Finally, he demanded of her, "Harder!

Hurt me damn it!"

Greg could not describe where the desire came from, but in that moment, he knew it was what he wanted. No mere nibble or love bite, just the sharp pain of a full bite. Mallory could hardly believe her ears but still pressed on as instructed, pull her mouth closed, hard, upon the vulnerable nub in her mouth. His response was instantaneous in his appreciation, his head pitching backwards, eyes staring to the heavens, and bellow rising from his chest, "Yeeeeeeeeeees!" Satisfied with her efforts, Mallory moved the left nipple and repeated the process, finding his perfect threshold of pleasure-pain far more rapidly. Then, his need for it apparently satiated, he pushed her onto the desk once more. The skin around his nipples was red, already moving towards purple. She could still see where she had scratched him, no longer angry but still visible as 10 raised lines on his torso.

"You gonna fuck my brains out now?" she asked him, wrapping her legs around his back, making sure he could feel the points of her stiletto heels on his skin.

"You're damn right I am!" he spat back at her.

They both grew silent, locking eyes. They focused entirely on one another's pleasure and their own, allowing everything else to recede away from them. Mallory moaned, sighed, cursed, and thrashed her way from climax to climax. Greg grunted fiercely, gritting his teeth to maintain control, altering his stroke every few moments to make the moment last. Neither gave a damn about whether Greg's PA could hear them, the state of their clothes, or how to explain their scratches and bruises if others asked.

"" Mallory panted, breaking the silence. She could feel herself slipping out of her head, her thoughts becoming fuzzy and buzzing. Her back was slick with sweat and it caught painfully when it came in contact with the desk beneath her. Her legs ached. Her vision blurred. She half wondered if this might be what being fucked to death was like.

"Do you want me to be?" he replied quickly and noncommittally in a single gulped breath.

"God! Fuck! Yes! I want to feel you explode, feel you finally accept the perverted desires in you!"

"Wh-where?" he spurted back.

"Inside me," she begged, "Fill me with your cum. Now! This is the time. I need your cum!"

The doctor felt his body jump. He had love cumming on her thigh, her stomach, and her face. If he was honest, her face especially. But inside her? The thought thrilled him in a primal way. And frightened him.

"Are you...on anything?" he said, searching for what he wanted to ask.

"Birth control, you mean?"


With that, she rose up to her elbows to better make eye contact and challenged him, "Do you really give a shit?"


"Come on! You know you want to cum with me, to spill your load in hungry teenage cunt."

"Bu—bu—but," he stuttered, "pregnancy."

"Uh-huh. And yet, you haven't stopped fucking me since you asked," she called him out.

It was true and even with her saying it, he found himself unable to slow down.

"Oh God," he moaned, doubling over at the waist. His conscience was shattering around him, he was a mess of conflicts. It hit him like a fist in the gut. And yet , he could not stop. No matter the risk, he wanted this. Nothing, not even himself, could stop him now.

Mallory let him swim for a moment in this realization before gently bringing her mouth to his ear and whispering, "It's okay. Go ahead. Cum inside me. It's safe, I promise. I'm on the pill."

"So close," was all he could manage in response.

She slid her hand between them, finding her clit, and started to rapidly stimulate it with two fingers. "Me, too," she promised him in the same gentle whisper, "Don't fight it, Doctor. Pleeeeease. This slut needs you soooooooooo bad."

That was all Greg could take. Evoking his profession once again, calling herself a slut, begging for him to line the walls of her pleasure dome with his was like the perfect recipe to finish him off. He grunted in relief, accepting everything at once, his lust for her, his dark desires, his willingness to destroy his entire life to have her fulfill those desires.

As she felt his arousal pump into her, she quickly followed him to climax, her fingers a frantic blur over her cunny, her muscles contracting, pulling ever bit of fluid from his cock. Both still cumming, they tumbled backwards into his desk chair, light headed, sweaty, and exhausted.

"Mine," she breathed in his air when she could finally speak. And he knew she was right. For the first time since this all began, he unapologetically allowed himself to enjoy the thought.

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