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“You…can’t swim?” The surprise in his voice is almost comical. He stands there, half-naked, his jeans pooled around his ankles, a look of genuine bewilderment on his face. It’s a flicker, quickly masked, but it’s there. For a split second, the impenetrable Dr. Frost is…confused. And it’s the most human I’ve ever seen him. I clutch the coat tighter around me, the thick wool suddenly feeling thin and inadequate. “Is that a problem?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended. The heat of the greenhouse, the humidity clinging to… Читать далее

I sit naked in the dining room, every nerve ending raw and screaming from a sleepless night of denied release. The same chair. The same room. The same wired, trembling mess of a body. Betraying me with each passing second as anticipation coils tight in my belly. Footsteps echo across the hardwood floors, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest. Frost appears in the doorway wearing dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, the casual attire somehow more unnerving than his usual clinical presentation. “Good… Читать далее

The silence in the dining room presses in on me, suffocating, heavy. It amplifies everything: the frantic, trapped beat of my pulse, the raw, needy throb between my bare thighs, the sick, hollow cavern where my stomach should be. I stare at the food on my plate, a perfect, untouched arrangement of salmon and asparagus, quinoa salad like a miniature garden. It should be enticing—the smells alone make my mouth water— but I can barely bring myself to lift the fork, heavy and cold in my hand. My own body… Читать далее

Frost’s words saturate the dining room and my mind, making my heart throttle to full speed. As he sets me on my feet, the world tilts on its axis, and I’m not sure if it’s from the sudden movement or the reality-warping effect he has on me. He turns to the cart, and I watch, my chest rising and falling rapidly, as he pulls out…a stethoscope? The sight of it transports me back to our first meeting, when it hung casually around his neck, a symbol of his authority that… Читать далее

“Hand me two dinner plates from the cart,” Frost instructs, his voice a low command in my ear. I shift to reach the plates, inadvertently grinding against his erection. Every millimeter of contact between our lower bodies that can happen in this position does. The friction of his pants sends sparks of sensation through me that I tell myself I don’t want, but I have to bite my lip to stifle a gasp. I manage to grasp the plates, their cool edges a stark contrast to the heat of my… Читать далее

I ignore the bereft feeling as Frost’s hand leaves my stomach to take the condom balloon. I’m glad he can’t see my expression, but his lips next to my ear are a constant reminder of our intimate position, even as he takes on a professorial tone. “Do you know the history of handwashing in Northern Africa and Arabia?” he asks, his voice smooth against my ear. I shake my head “No,” trying to focus on his words rather than the heat of his body against mine. It’s like trying to… Читать далее

His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. For a moment, I’m frozen, the inflated condom sitting absurdly over my chest. My mind races, weighing the consequences of obeying versus defying him. But we both know I’m going to comply. That’s why I’m here, after all. With shaky legs, I stand and make my way over to Frost. It’s only a few steps but it feels like walking a mile in quicksand. His eyes never leave mine as I approach, his gaze intense and unreadable. As I reach him,… Читать далее

I take a deep breath, my mind racing with what comes next. Will he quiz me on how much water the condom can hold again? An absurd image flashes through my mind—me, throwing the water-filled condom at him like a balloon, watching it explode across his perfectly composed face. The thought almost makes me smile, despite the tension in the room. But Frost has other plans. “Open the condom,” he instructs, his voice cool and matter-of-fact. I blink, caught off guard even though I technically expected it. “Okay…” I say,… Читать далее

I reach for the box of condoms, my fingers trembling slightly as I open it. The foil packet feels cool against my skin as I extract one, the memory of our last encounter flooding back. The pressure in my bladder, the desperation that had built during his stupid game of guess as this same box sat between us. And then the blinding release as he forced me to come and pee right here just to prove his fucking point. The recollection makes me shift in my seat, hyper-aware of every… Читать далее

Those five words hang in the air between us. Loaded with promise. It’s not just an announcement but a declaration. A warning. The sweater is still extended to me, Frost’s eyes never leaving my face. He won’t repeat himself. I swallow hard, not needing an encore of last Friday in any capacity. The memory of his punishment, of the humiliation and pleasure intertwined, caves my spine. I reach out, my hand trembling slightly as I take the sweater from him. As I pull it over my head, I’m granted a… Читать далее