The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 19

He chased her around the room. It would have been comical if he could've taken a moment to step outside himself. Instead, he was just a being of grim anger and raging libido trying desperately to keep both in check.

"I wonder what your wife would think if she heard the way you talked to me?" the teen mocked him and his vision only clouded further.

She broke for her bedroom door, but Greg beat her to it, slamming it shut. As she spun away to escape to another part of the room, he reached out and grabbed the end of the tip of the triangle shirt. She attempted to scurry away anyway. With a snarl and a pull, the doctor tried to yank her back to him. Instead, he felt the fabric give way and slip to the floor. It took him a moment to realize that he had torn the shirt clean off her. The second it clicked, he knew he had gone too far. He averted his eyes

"Oh, shit, Mal," he spoke in a tumble of words, "Damn I'm...I'm so sorry. I just...wow, I just lost my head there and—"

Without a word, she slapped him hard across the face, stunning him. He shut up and looked at her. She stood before him, cheeks flush, breathing rapidly and heavy, her beautiful torso completely exposed. Her abs rippled ever-so slightly under the skin, her navel ring twinkled, her breasts rose and fell with her accelerated breath. She slapped him again. Then, she stepped closer to him, her hands cupping her tits, her fingers gently tugging on the nipples.

"Don't you fucking do that," she hissed as she forced him to back up against the wall, "Don't you fucking pretend that this was an accident. This is who you are, you perverted old man. Look at you, you can't even take your eyes off my tits right now, you deviant hypocrite!"

Greg could only blink in reply. As shocked as he was at his actions moments ago, he was even more off kilter with what Mal was doing. She caught that confusion in his eyes and pressed her advantage.

"This is exactly what you came up here for, wasn't it?" she accused, "To catch a peek at my tits, to put your fingers in my cunt without me telling you it was ok?"

He argued back at her out of instinct, "Now, wait a second. That's not what happened at all. This was an accident. Honestly. And before, you—"

Again she swung at him with an open hand, but this time he caught her hand midair.

"Stop it!" he yelled at her.

"Or what?!" she shot back, eyes narrowing, "You'll hurt me?"

"What?! No, no. Definitely not. I...god, Mal, no."

She did not need him sad and apologetic so she did not let him dwell on the moment. Instead she grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him toward her. She noted with great satisfaction that, while not fully hard, he was certainly firm in his pants.

"Why not?" she demanded, keeping the hard edge to her voice, "That's what I am to you, isn't it?"

"What are yo—"

She ignored him, "Just something to fuck? To abuse. To demean?"

"Mal, that's not—"

Again, she allowed him no word otherwise, speaking as she began to undo his belt, "A teenager to get you hard and get you off when you finally got tired of that boring, bland wife of yours?"

"Please, Mal. You know that that is not at--"

"And why shouldn't you use me? I do things she'd never do. I let you do things she never would. I get off on it. I'm just as fucked up as you are."

"Mallory, you are not—"

"Fuck," she moaned lasciviously, "I'm such a dirty girl, Doc. I'm soooooooooo fucking wet right now. We need each other, Greg. We're both so unclean. SO! FILTHY! Come on, Doc, let's just fuck each other into oblivion."

With that, she thrust her hands down his pants and grabbed a hold of his now very hard cock. The shock of it motivated him and he threw her back away from him. She used the opportunity to take a pratfall, selling that he had knocked her down. It was apparently enough as he immediately dove forward, face full of concern. The name of the game was keeping him close and off balance and this accomplished both.

"Mallory, damn it," he said, his voice filled with shame and resignation, "are you okay?"

She only groaned in response, watching him out of the corner of a seemingly closed eye. As he bent over to check her more closely, she grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. As he rolled onto his back, she straddled him.

"Mmmm, touch me, Doctor Clark. Make me feel better," she moaned, grinding herself against the rigid member that gave away his real desires. He tried to stand, lifting her off him. She wrapped her legs around him and tightened, refusing to let go. Not expecting it, he couldn't adjust his balance accordingly and they tumbled on to the bed. Her breath escaped her lungs with a puff as he landed on top of her.

He shifted with a grunt and tried to get off the bed. Mallory grabbed his shirt and pulled it up over his head as though they were in a hockey fight. Greg was forced to shed it to regain his sight. As he focused his energy on regaining visibility the young coed beneath him took his distraction as the opportunity she needed to push his pants to the ground with her feet. Her hands again slipped into his boxers before he wriggled his shirt over his head.

As the doctor again tried to stand to get away from her, his pants tripped him up and he lurched forward. Mallory grabbed his left nipple and bit down hard, knowing he had a sweet spot for the comingling of pain and pleasure. He groaned loudly and unconsciously thrust himself against her grasping fists. She responded by biting again.

Greg then grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her away, her teeth dragging along the nipple, scraping down deeper in his flesh. She smiled up at him, her face flush with exertion and licked her lips. He bent down for a moment to catch his breath and Mallory reacted immediately by roughly grabbing his face, planting her lips on his and forcing her tongue into his mouth. He could taste the mixture of fruity alcohol drink and mint mouthwash on her tongue and his mind was immediately transported back to freshman year of college. Shaking the memory of past conquests loose, he struggled to free himself. In response, the babysitter bit his lip hard.

His mind went blank. He yanked her away from him. The moment she was free, he slapped her.

"Oh yeah!" she shouted, giggling, "Again!"

And he did so, coming at her with the other hand.

"Mmm, Doc," she moaned, stroking him with both hands, "you are so hard. You like slapping around your little teen slut, don't you? Are you getting off on showing me you're the boss?"

"Shut up!" he commanded, his voice sounding far off and cloudy with lust and self-repulsion.

"Come on, Greg," she whispered, "Fuck this little girl! I am so wet for you; I'm just dripping all over the place."

He again tried to stand and she stuck with him. He knocked her against the wall, but she hung on. As he swung about in the direction of another wall, she dug her nails deep into his back, leaving angry welts. She licked and sucked and bit his ear and then did the same to his shoulder, leaving a rapidly bruising hickey. Where her nails were dug in, she now dragged them downward, raw lines tracing their trajectory.

As she howled and moaned and whispered dirty inflammatory things to him, Greg had become basically nonverbal, only grunting and gasping as they spun and bounced around the room.

"I can feel how hard you are for me right now," she whispered to him, her breath hot with insistence, "I know you never get this hard for her, for Gina, your prude of a wife."

Greg didn't respond, but she saw some of the anger and panic slip out of his eyes. She redoubled her efforts.

"She doesn't control you like I do, does she? She doesn't own this fucking cock like I do!"

"You...no one owns—"

She clawed his chest, causing him to interrupt himself with a lusty groan.

"You don't fool me, Doc," Mallory taunted him. "I know I can have you wherever, whenever, how ever I want. If I wanted to fuck you in front on your wife's entire family as she wept, you'd do it in a heartbeat. My teen cunt rules your fucking world, you pathetic loser."

He stumbled over his feet and her weight propelled him awkwardly on to her back on to her desk. He hissed out a strangled breath of pain.

Mallory didn't let up, grinding against him relentlessly.

She leaned down, her lips next to his ear and whispered threats, emulating the classmate in college that got him off while explaining how she could kill him and get away with it.

"I could just stab you right now and no one would know," she pointed out, dragging a pair of scissors across the desk to emphasize her point, "Just fucking murder you and get away with it. Or just choke you while I fuck you, feel you cum as you die. You'd die with a teenager quivering on your dick and then I'd just tell the world how you raped me and this was the only way to stop you. Mmmm....you want me so bad you'd let me kill you and ruin your reputation for a final orgasm inside me, wouldn't you?"

With a long, low growl, he shoved her hard against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. She finally released her grip on him and fell to the floor, believing her last effort had failed. As she attempted to regain her breath to form an apology, in an attempt to salvage the situation, he grabbed her by the hair roughly and tossed her onto her bed.

She looked at him and saw everything obliterated. His face was just a snarl. His cock, having slipped free of his boxers, bounced lewdly in front of him, purple and angry. He stalked towards her. She was frightened and aroused by the prospect of what was coming.

He grabbed her hair again with his right hand and wrenched her head to the side. He bit her neck hard while reaching between her legs and violently pulling her thong down to her knees where she kicked it the rest of the way to the floor. She could feel his teeth on her neck, the welts rising. He had never ever been this rough before. It hurt. But she never wanted him to stop.

"Is this what you want, slut?" he hissed at her, pulling apart her miniskirt, the three large buttons the held it closed audibly popping and bouncing into unknown parts of the room, "To get fucked?"

"Mmm, Doctor Clark, whatever do you mean?"she asked, switching to "who, me?" mode.

He slapped her in response, quick and stinging.

"Do. You. Want. To. Get. FUCKED?!" he roared.

"Oh goodness, no sir," she replied, even as she wrapped her legs around him.

"Don't you lie to me!" the doctor demanded, face growing red.

"I'm not," she asserted in a tiny voice, "Honest to God, I'm not. And surely a good man like yourself knows that no means no."

She waited to see him falter again, but there was no hesitance on his part. He placed one hand on her throat and squeezed and used the other to guide himself deep inside her. She moaned lewdly. As he began to thrust into her—hard, fast, and erratic—his grip slackened enough for her to speak.

"Oh, god, sir," she warbled, pressure still restricting her ability to speak, "I said no, sir. I said no. Please sir."

He ignored her.

"Oh, goddddddddd, sir. You are raping me!" she groaned, grinding her slit hard against his brutally thrusting pelvis, "Do you intend to rape me to your satisfaction?"

Still he ignored her.

"Please stop," she pretended to cry, "please...go home to your boring plain wife and your boring plain sex life. Stop now and I'll never tell."

"Shut up," he grunted, pounding even harder into her.

Mallory kept at him, "Don't you care that I said no?"

"No!" he shouted and pulled her hair again, this time pushing his lips hard against hers. She bit him again, drawing blood. When she released, he bit her back, blood mixing with blood.

"Yeah," she grunted, the innocent façade abandoned for a throaty rasp, "rape me! Take what you want. Use me! Ruin me! I'm your slut. Your whore. Show me how fucking worthless I am! Treat me like the fucktoy you know I am!"

He bowed his head, seemingly devoting all his energy to the motion of his hips. He chanted to himself an affirmation of each of her lewd phrases, "Not rape! You want this! Use you! My whore! My slut!"

Mallory spread her legs further apart, holding a calf in each hand, letting him go even deeper inside her. She continued her barrage of dirty talk, "You feel how wet I am? How tight? It's never like this with her, is it? She'd never let you RAPE her like this, would she? We can only be with each other Greg! We're animals, fucking monsters! What you want is wrong, Doctor Clark. So wrong. I'm the only one who can give it to you because I'm just as sick inside.

He bit her again, just above the nipple, in response. She let go of her legs and scratched his back again screaming, "Fuck yes! Hurt me, Doc. Fucking hurt me so bad! Oh god. I'm such a slut. Oh fuck me! Fuck! Such a whore! Oh, god, I love this! Tell me you don't love this, Doc?"

He didn't respond.

She pulled on his ear until they were eye to eye. "Tell me," she spoke methodically, "you don't love this!"

"I don't love this," he snarled.

She laughed and spit in his face in response. He grabbed her throat once more.

"Yes," she rasped, "Harder!"

He squeezed harder.

"Watch me cum, Doc," she said in gasping breaths, "Don't take your eyes off me."

And Greg didn't. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head, her body arched into him and blushed red, her pussy muscles tightened around him and dragged his cock even deeper. Then she went slack with a hissing moan of a breath.

He loosened his grasp on her but still did not stop thrusting. Mallory's body was on fire, each stroke inside her set off a mini cascade of tiny orgasms. She felt as though she might burst out of her skin. It was simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world. She began to truly fear she would lose consciousness; her body was so overloaded with sensation. She weakly shoved him away and dropped to her knees. Barely able to focus enough to see, she grabbed and made contact with the stunned doctor's cock. She yanked it toward her and wrapped her mouth around him, taking him deep, tasting her juices all over him. She gagged. Tears began to stream out of her eyes. She did not care. She wanted this, the abuse, the pain. She wanted it so bad. In the moment it all made sense to her. They could just do this forever. Fuck each other and hurt each other and repeat. She could keep him that way.

Above her, he grunted and grabbed her head. However, he let her continue to have control, perhaps enjoying watching her so thoroughly debase herself as to not even pay attention to her body's natural reflexes, like the gag.

Moments later, she could tell he was growing close, the tell-tale threading breath and the lengthening of his shaft. She released him from her mouth, stunned that her jaw was already aching.

"Fill my mouth," she commanded, "That's what sluts deserve! Make me swallow it all!"

Her hand was a blur on his cock, moving up and down, twisting, squeezing, rubbing the head.

"Come on! Give it to me!" the babysitter demanded. "Give me your cum, Doctor Clark! Let me taste your sin! This teen slut needs it!"

"Fuck," he groaned, surprisingly quietly. Then, a moment later, a roar, and Mallory's world went bright. She felt him spray. Once. Twice. Thrice. And he kept going. Jet after jet coating her tongue. He had never cum like this she thought, feeling something akin to victory. Her eyes stung with tears as he drove himself as deep into her throat as she could accommodate, but she did not care. She loved the feeling of nearly drowning, of chocking with his desire. The desire he gave to her in a way he could never give to his wife.

She stayed on the floor, leaning against the wall beneath her window, legs splayed obscenely as the doctor began to get dressed again. She began to touch herself, masturbating before him, hoping he'd watch.

"Keys," he grunted and she indicated to her bedside table. They had been there the whole time, in plain sight. She giggled, then cooed as fingers danced past her labia and inside her.

"Stay," she moaned, "Watch me. Then fuck me again."

He said nothing, a tentatively closing door the only evidence he was gone. She came quickly.

Moments later, the shame and fear began to filter in. What had she done? She only meant to get him back but what she had done instead...she could not imagine how things could ever go back now.

Greg arrived home only an hour and a half after he left but it felt much longer. He washed up in the bathroom downstairs, trying to wash away what he had done to Mallory and what he allowed her to do to him. He stared at himself in the mirror, inspecting the bruises, bites, and scratch marks, wincing with a mixture of pain and shame.

Despite fearing what his wife would say, the questions she would ask, the doctor was simply too tired not to go to bed. He dragged himself up the stairs, feeling achy and rung out all over. Soft light spilled out his bedroom door as he opened it. Gina was propped up on pillows, reading a book. She put it down and smiled at him as he walked in.

"How did it go?"

"Fine, fine," he mumbled, "She wasn't too bad."

"Good."

He grimaced as he started to pull his shirt off and she caught it immediately.

"Are you okay?" she asked, voice concerned.

"Yeah...just..." he struggled for an excuse, "Fell down the stairs at Mallory's apartment building."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Dumb of me. I was waiting to hear her engage the lock on her door and wasn't paying attention to where I was putting my feet," he spun the yarn.

"Ouch," Gina commiserated, getting out of bed, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"A bit," he said and began to tick off injuries, "I, umm, scratched up my back pretty good, I think. Cheap apartment carpet, you know? I bit my lip. I'm pretty sure I've got some decent bruises all over."

"Oooo, my poor man. Is, umm, everything hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Wha...oh, no, no. I am...intact," he assured his wife.

"Good, good. Why don't you just get in bed then and let me see what I can do about healing your wounds?" she offered.

He briefly considered refusing, but was worried that would be more suspicious than accepting. If he couldn't perform, he reasoned, he could just blame it on being more beat up than he had initially expected.

He gingerly removed his clothes as Gina disappeared to the bathroom for a bit to wash her face, brush her teeth, and finish up her evening routine. He felt himself grow annoyed. "Why can't she just be spontaneous?" he grumbled internally, sliding in between the warm sheets.

She emerged from the bathroom about 10 minutes later and flipped off the light. Lately, this too had been an annoyance but he was thankful for it this time. It made his injuries harder to see and assess.

Gina slid into bed next to him and kissed him gently. In short order, she used her hand to arouse him, slipped a condom on, climbed on top, and languidly made love to her husband. It was pleasant, but Greg found himself distracted throughout. Here was a wish to demand she use her mouth, there was a flash of Mallory's face, twisted in ecstatic success. Here was a want to talk dirty, there was the memory of the feel of Mal's bare, wet pussy opening up and claiming his fingers. Here was dark, twisting guilt sitting in his gut, there was growing irrational anger at Gina for leaving him so vulnerable to temptation in the first place.

After they climaxed together and Gina sent him to dispose of the condom, they cuddled together in bed.

"Did you enjoy it?" she purred quietly, settling in to his arms.

"Yes," he assured, despite having felt like he was everywhere but in their bedroom, "I always do."

"You were so quiet this time," Gina observed, seemingly harmlessly but leaving Greg feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"Huh," he replied, noncommittally.