Sometimes When I Get to Thinking pt 7
4643 words
This fic is mostly smut, so you’ve been warned. It also contains choking and restraints. I hope you enjoy! (+ sorry it took so long to write)
Also cw for a slightly implied miscarriage. Please take care of yourselves!
gif credit @godzillawillsaveus
You’re lying on the bed you and the doc share, your head comfortably resting on two downing pillows, and your wrists bound to the intricately carved bed head by your own stockings. The doc had tied you there an hour ago, right after you both finished dinner, in fact you were both in such a rush to get into bed that your dirty dishes and pot of food are left abandoned in your kitchen. Clean up can surely be left for later, you both think. There are much more pressing matters to be dealt with.
So, for the past hour the doc has been ‘playing’ with you. He enjoys being a tease, and likes to work on you slowly whenever he can stand it. You squirm, pulling your silky restraints tighter around your wrists as your back arches, as if against your own will. A debauched moan escapes your mouth, one of many, as the doc fucks you tantalisingly slowly with two fingers of his right hand, choking your neck with his left. Being choked is a feeling you very much enjoy, and he knows it. Amos intermittently releases your now tender neck from his grip, allowing you to catch your breath, and for your pooling blood to reach your brain once again. He chokes you until your ears ring, but never too hard, and never for too long. His medical training has made him the perfect breath play partner. Choking was not something he’d tried before he met you, but your enthusiasm for it makes him like it just as much as you do. His ability to give you orgasm after orgasm is more addictive to him than any drug in his possession.
So, he releases you neck once again, leaving you panting between moans. He holds eye contact with you constantly, surveying your reaction, ensuring you’re alright, that you can take what he’s giving you. He takes his role as love maker and pleasure giver just as seriously as he takes his role as doctor. His fingers curl up inside you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your moans becoming louder.
“Please, fuck me Amos... fuck me with your cock!” you beg, still panting, and although your eyes are closed you can still feel the docs eyes on you. The way he watches you turns you on to no end.
“Uh uh,” he denies you. “Not yet honey, not just yet,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you, and inspects your egg-whitey wetness on them before he enters you again with three.
“Oh god!” you cry out, your eyes flying open. His face is so close to yours, and he’s red and sweating. You let your eyes wander down his body, pulling at your restraints to try to get a clearer look at his unclothed cock. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, a loud sigh exiting your lips. He’s hard as a goddamn rock, and the precum escaping him tells you he’s more than ready for you. The restraint he must have to keep himself from fucking you senseless is absolutely unfathomable to you. You want his cum... no, you need it.
“Careful, you’ll break the skin,” he comments, gesturing to your lip. You release your lip from your tooth’s grip just as he takes your neck back into his grip once again, squeezing good and hard. Your legs rise and wrap around his hips as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, entering you as deep as he can.
“God. I can feel your cervix,” he comments breathlessly. He’s concentrating hard, eyebrows furrowed, and although to some his words may sound oddly medical, you know how much it turns him on to enter you as deep as he can possibly go. He’s been edging his fingers higher and higher since he first entered you an hour ago.
The pleasure is becoming too much for you. You’ve thought that same thought so many times during this lovemaking session, thought that ecstasy would finally take over your body, leaving you trembling and sopping wet, and your husband wholly unsatisfied. Sure, you can take multiple climaxes in a row like a champ, but you know how much Amos loves the feeling of your pulsing cunt squeezing around his cock after being teased by him for so long. You need him to cum inside of you, and you know that stimulation or no stimulation, if you cum whilst his cock is outside of you he’ll cum anyway.
“Please Amos! God, doctor please! I need your cock! I need it! I need i-“ and before you can say another word his hand is removed from your neck, his juice drenched fingers are in his mouth, and he’s readying his cock to enter you. Teasing your clit first, he lets out a soft low grunt as precum spills onto your vulva. Not much, just a few drops, but it’s enough to wet your appetite.
“Are you... you ready for me?” he asks, slightly apprehensively. Despite his facade of confidence, and despite your unyielding begging, he’s still slightly unsure of himself. He’s often like this, both in and out of the bedroom. You think it might be a symptom of his time serving as a doctor in the war. He has told you of his time there, vaguely, and often in abstractions, but you understand. More than once during the war he had to make decisions regarding his patients health that ended up killing them, not saving them. Of course you could see that he had never been at fault; he had done the best he could, he had followed his Hippocratic oath to the best of his ability, and between the shooting and the noise and the blood... well no man could have done any better than your husband, not matter his training, but he still blamed himself, and as a result second guessed himself still. He’s a stickler for consent.
You nod in response to his question, giving him your last gesture of consent before he enters you, slow but firm, and intentional. He rests his forehead against yours, both of your eyes closing as you savour the feeling you’ve both been craving all day... and suddenly you hear a voice cry out, a mans, Johnny’s in fact.
“Don’t answer,” you find yourself whispering to the doc. It was certainly not an ethical request, but you truly feel that you’re more desperate for a fucking climax than any man could possibly be for medical attention. Johnny calls out for the doc once more.
“Goddammit!” the doc exclaims, opening his eyes again. “What?” he yells out to Johnny, awaiting his answer. The doc pulls out of you slowly, beginning to untie your wrists when he hears your disappointed sigh.
“Someone’s been shot at the Gem, one of the whores!” Johnny replies.
“I won’t be long,” your husband whispers to you, running his ringers lovingly through your hair before he gets up from the bed and begins to dress. You rub your sore wrists as you sit up (it’s a feeling you somewhat enjoy), and the doc gets up. He begins to dress frantically, huffing in anger the way he usually does. You find it awful endearing.
“I’ll get dressed and meet you at the Gem in case you need a hand,” you tell him, fastening his shirt buttons. He tries his hardest to position his cock in a way that will hide his erection in his pants, and is mildly successful, however to you it’s still slightly obvious. As he takes his hat in hand you kiss him on the cheek. “Be safe,” you say. You know your husband always does his best to be safe, I mean he knows how to mind his own goddamn fucking business, but your request to him serves as a little reminder of what’s waiting for him at home as he goes about his stressful and often dangerous business. He nods in reply, and thinks that tonight he will be extra careful... he knows what’s waiting for him.
“I’ll make this up to you,” he promises, furrowing his brows as he grabs his medical bag and heads out the door, leaving you alone in your house once again. This, you think, is an exemplary example of what it’s like to be a doctors wife, but somehow Amos always makes every moment you spend alone seem worth it.
You can hear Johnny and the doc talking softly as they walk down the thoroughfare towards the Gem, and you begin to dress. You don your corset, then your dress, no bloomers or stockings. You want to give Amos easy access. You put on your boots, purposefully leaving the left untied, and fix your hair before grabbing your cane and a shawl. You head out of your house only to see Charlie waiting for you, leaned up against a tree across from your home.
“Did Amos put you up to this?” you ask him as you walk towards him. He takes your shawl from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders snugly.
“He ran into me, asked me to escort you over to the Gem,” Charlie replies. As always, he’s a complete gentleman, and takes your free arm in his as you begin to walk. Not having the most affectionate father figure growing up (to put it lightly), you imagine having a loving father might be something like your friendship with Charlie. He’s loyal to a fault, caring, protective. You love the man, and you hope he knows it.
“Why don’t you come over for breakfast tomorrow Charlie? Or dinner? Or both!” you ask him with a smile. “You know our door is always open.”
“I might just do that (Y/N),” he tells you, smiling back. You reach the door to the Gem, and now in better lighting than in the dimly lit thoroughfare, Charlie’s eyes zero in on your neck. “I hesitate to ask... did someone hurt you? Did Doc Coc-“ Charlie begins to speak, but you stop him, talking over him.
“I’m going to confide something in you Charlie, as a friend, in the hope of putting your mind at ease,” you pause for a moment taking a deep breath, your eyes falling to your feet. “I enjoy when the doc chokes me. I-I know it may sound strange to you but in the throws of passionate lovemaking my body finds it very agreeable, and god only knows why I enjoy it, with all the men who have choked me out in my lifetime, without my consent. Now, you know the doc could never hurt me, he could never hurt anyone for gods sake,” you look up to your friend, your cheeks reddening when you see him looking to you with shock every so subtly written on his face. This is a conversation neither of you are particularly comfortable having with one another. “So please don’t worry yourself over me Charlie. Please don’t. Now, I’d better find the doc. He may need my help,” your take his hands in yours, letting your cane hang off your left wrist. Lucky for you the lace on the end of the sleeves of your dress cover the marks on your wrists, for you’d hesitate even more to explain your proclivity for being bound, or how much you enjoy having all control and autonomy stripped from you. “Thank you for being my escort, and I hope I’ll see you tomorrow, even after my little confession,” you say with a shy smile and a nervous laugh. Charlie nods his head, an intense look of understanding on his face. He knows better than to pry any further, and he gives your hands a firm and affectionate squeeze before letting them go.
“Goodnight (Y/N),” he says, gentlemanly as always, and tips his hat before leaving you in the doorway of the Gem, a building you’d spent more time in than you ever imagined you would.
Walking in now you make a bee line to the whores recreation room, past the bar. You pause once you get to the hallway, spotting your husband attending to one of the whores in the closest room to your right. She’s alive, thank god, and getting her wound closed by the doc. You love watching him work, and in a strange way his care and concentration turns you on, wetting your cunt all over again. As much as you want his concentration to continue, you can’t shake the thought of doing something slightly provocative, of catching his attention despite the chaos of the saloon. There’s a wooden bench where you’re standing, just as you had planned. It’s now time to enact your rather devious idea. You lift your left leg, letting your foot rest on it languidly, and lean your cane up against the wall. Reaching down you begin to move your flowing skirt from between your legs, lifting it up to give you better access to your boots, and revealing your unclothed cunt. Lucky for you there are no Johns in the hallway, otherwise god only knows how many men would have gotten a glimpse of your snatch, for free no less! You clear your throat, finally drawing the docs attention to you. He looks up over his glasses, then moves them up with the back of his left hand, needle in his right. He lets out a flustered cough, face turning red. This reaction may have been a remnant of his sickness from consumption, which thank the lord he was able to overcome, but you’re almost sure it isn’t. Your husband can’t take his eyes off of you, and he squirms in place a little, trying to make his painful and straining erection more comfortable no doubt. Lucky for the two of you that the poor whore, Sara you’re almost sure her name is, is in too much pain to notice the doc has even stopped attending to her, let alone notice the bulge in his pants. You finally tie the laces of your boot and pull your skirt back down again, just in time for Al to come between the two of you. Amos clears his throat, turning his attention back to the injured whore. He takes a moment to compose himself before tying off his suturing thread.
“You come here to help the doc or are you just looking for new employment?” Al asks, taking no time to start shit stirring you. You take your leg down from the bench, getting your balance again with a little help from your cane.
“The doc seems to be handling the situation well on his own, so I guess you’d better find me a few eager men to fuck,” you reply playfully. The doc, in his transparentness, can’t help but look to you when he hears you say the word ‘fuck’.
“I can think of someone,” Al comments, looking in on the doc. You hit Al’s arm, only half playfully.
“Watch it mister,” you warn. “So what happened to the guy who shot her?”
“You don’t want to know,” he tells you, looking over to the bloodstain on his hardwood floor. Your breath hitches slightly. Despite knowing the reality of Al, and this town, and all the goddamn wrongdoing people in it, murder sometimes still shocks you. You keep your eyes on the blood, almost captivated by its morbidity as you begin to speak again.
“Make sure you let Amos look at the man before you feed him to the pigs,” you say absentmindedly. You’re brought out of your stupor by Amos entering the hallway, medical bag in hand. “How is she?” you ask him, almost in a whisper. She’s lying down now, passed out.
“Just a flesh wound, she’ll survive,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. They beam with love and adoration for you.
“Good,” you say, breath hitching. In moments like this you truly believe that his gaze, and his gaze alone, could make you climax. The pulling in your stomach is becoming unbearable now. You’re barely able to stop yourself from touching yourself, right there for all the towns men to see.
Al begins to speak again, a slightly annoyed and teasing shit eating grin on his face at the sight of your obvious romanticism.
“Would you two like to accompany me to my office?” his voice is sarcastically inviting.
“We can’t tonight Al. Another time-“ your husband begins to make excuses, which you thank god for, but Al is adamant.
“Tonight. Now,” he states firmly. “I need to talk to the fucking both of you.”
So the two of you concede with a disappointed sigh, and Al makes his way up the stairs in front of you, the doc walking next to you, a supportive hand on your lower back. As you ascend the doc lets his hand stray lower and lower, earning an amused warning look from you. Once in Al’s office the three of you sit, but you can hardly sit still, and the doc is fidgeting a little too.
“Drink?” Al asks. “If anyone needs it it’s the two of you.” “Will you just get on with the goddamn business Al?” Amos demands, rocking in his seat, hands rubbing his knees. You place a hand on his thigh in an effort to placate him, but it only makes his cock twitch.
“Jesus Christ! I’ve never seen you two so fucking antsy,” Al comments as he pours the drinks. As you both down your shots Johnny bursts into the room.
“Tolliver’s just walked through the door Al. Looks mad as all hell,” he relays, urgency evident.
“Alright then. Fucking stay here and wait for me, and don’t think of thieving. I know what’s in this room.”
You roll your eyes at Al’s tired fucking joke, and he walks out, closing the door behind him. Turning to your husband now, you see such urgency in his eyes. He’s bouncing his leg up and down, and eyeing you like an animal. You know what’s about to come, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You stand, and suddenly the doc is pushed up behind you. He bends you over Al’s desk, and begins to fiddle with his belt eagerly as you rush to pull up your skirt, letting the plumes of fabric gather around your waist.
“I’m ‘onna fuck you (Y/N), okay?” he asks, now with his bare cock readying itself at your entrance. You’re absolutely sopping, dripping, and he half thinks he may not be able to wait for your reply.
Even through your daze of arousal it still amazes you how commanding and unsure he can sound in one breath. A walking paradox, your husband could sometimes be, and any man would find it evident how much you need to be fucked... nevertheless you reply.
“Amos, please. I need you! I need you! I need,” and he enters you, eliciting a relieved and pronounced moan from your lips. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he begins to thrust. Neither of you are going to last long, but with the two of you fucking in Al’s office and all that’s probably for the best. The doc moves your hair to one side and leans over you, laying lustful kisses on the back on your neck, and you push your ass further back into him, trying to get him to penetrate you deeper. The doc takes the hint, and bottoms out inside of you. He hits your cervix and exhales deeply, pausing there for a moment, savouring the sensation. He loves to fill you.
“God Amos! Don’t stop don’t fucking stop!” you yell, sounding almost angry in your desperation. Your husband hushes you and starts up again, giving your bare ass an affectionate tap. He holds onto your hips firmly as he fucks himself into you, good and fast. You know that people in the saloon must be able to hear your screams and moans, and you’re just hoping that with all the other sounds of debauchery coming from all the other rooms no one will be able to say for certain it was you and the doc making those noises. Amos begins to grunt breathlessly, his eyes squeezing shut.
“Honey... honey, god! Fuck!” he exclaims, and you can feel from his rhythm that he’s just about ready to burst. “I’m ‘onna cum in you, I’m ‘onna cum so deep!”
“Oh god Amos!” you yell his name before you can even stop yourself. Your climax is approaching quickly now, and his thrust are becoming erratic. He’s losing control of himself, fucking you as hard as his body physically can after a long day. The way he fucks you is goddamn euphoric. So deep, so skilled, with such care for you. His stomach is pushed up against your back now as he tries desperately to stay upright whilst his climax plummets towards him.
“Gonna cum... gonna cum in you, gonna cum,” he whispers to you in that rough gravely voice of his that you find so arousing. He puts his arm underneath your right shoulder and grips onto it, his left hand grasping onto your waist, and within seconds he explodes into you, plumes of steaming potent cum entering your pulsing cunt. This sensation, coupled with your husbands irresistible moans, and his desperate moans of your name, sends you climaxing. You scream out, trying to grip onto anything you can, your hand landing on the docs hand on your shoulder. Your body shudders, every part of you shaking, and your walls clenching around your husbands cock, milking all of his cum from him. Your ears begin to ring and your sight darkens. For a moment you truly believe that coming this hard is going to make you pass out. He fills you, god he fills you so fucking good. The doc begins to kiss the back of your neck again, leaving little red marks where he bites and sucks on it. Between kisses he begins to speak again. “You like feeling my cum in you, don’t you?”
“I love it,” you reply breathlessly whilst he’s still speaking. “I goddamn love it, I love it. I love you.”
Your body begins to relax now, and your legs turn to jelly. The doc slowly pulls out of you, standing up straight as he does, and you almost fall to the floor, but he catches you, lowering you down carefully onto your chair. When you turn to him, and sitting in his chair now, you notice that his glasses have fogged up. You’re both sweaty and red in the face, panting feverishly. The doc takes his glasses off, then points to your chest with an amused smile on his face. You look down, noticing that both your tits are now situated outside of your dress. You laugh lightly, looking to your husband in sweet euphoric adoration as you begin to tuck them back into the bust of your dress.
Suddenly Al walks back in, swinging the door to his office open. You jump, and fix yourself quickly, but you realise hiding your sinful deed is futile once you begin to look around the room. Al’s desk has been pushed back, and is crooked, and his whiskey bottle has toppled over and is rolling around on his desk (no whiskey spilt though, thank god). You look from the desk to Al, then to your husband.
“Jesus Christ!” Al says in a sing song voice. He’s beyond amused.
“Shut the fuck up Al,” you say deadpan, your voice slightly horse. You clear your throat, and the doc tries to smooth your ‘just been fucked’ hair a little. Al begins to fix his desk up, moving it to its previous position. This is a grace he has decided to afford you (most others he would make fix the room up themselves), because despite your teasing and shit talking you are good friends, and he is friends with your husband also. He pours all three of you another shot, which you all drink, and within moments it’s back to business.
“You need to stop visiting my whores,” he tells you, and your mouth opens, shocked.
“Sorry?” you ask obstinately.
“When the doc comes for his weekly visit stop fucking accompanying him. You’re filling their minds with stories of ancient societies run by fucking women and ideas to leave my fucking employ,” he explains further.
“I’m trying to enrich their lives Al. All they do is fuck and get high on dope! They know nothing of the outside world! I can’t see why it’s such a bad thing to educate them a little on arts and culture.”
“That’s my girl,” the doc chimes in, winking at you.
“Oh so you agree with her doc? I’d remind you that without my whores you’d be out of a job.” “And have any of them left Al?” Amos points out. Besides Trixie none of them have, and her leaving was a turn of events you had no part in.
“With the girls living conditions to boot I would have thought my accompanying the doc would be a welcome change. Surely high spirited women fuck better Al... that has certainly been my experience. Until the end of goddamn time there will always be women willing to fuck for money. It’s called the oldest profession for a goddamn reason. They like me Al, and they like the stories I tell them! I’m not gonna stop accompanying my husband to his weekly visits, and that’s fucking that!” you end the argument.
“Staunch fucking cunt,” Al says under his breath, and the doc glares at him.
“You know I’m fucking right Al. You know I am,” you begin to tease him again, the mood lightening. Al thinks for a moment, before reluctantly conceding your point.
“Well no fucking tales of women leaving their pimps or the like, or I will murder you where you sleep,” he threatens, but you know his threats are hollow. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re a sore looser Al,” you say and stand with a grunt. You look down, and see a small puddle of fluids forming between your legs. “I think I just leaked cum on your floor Al,” you tell him, and your husband stands also, passing you your cane.
“You’re not the first,” Al replies, leading the both of you to the door.
“What did Tolliver want to see you about anyway?” the doc asks Al, and you both pass him by.
“That, doc, is not a story that should grace a woman’s ears.”
Walking out of the saloon you smile to the whores and Jewell, then you and your husband enter into the cool night air, finally relieved of your fiery arousal, and wonderfully satisfied. Your arms are linked, and as you look both ways down the thoroughfare you spot Charlie, leaning up against a building with a whiskey bottle in hand. He tips his hat to the two of you, and somehow you just know he had waited for you, to make sure you made it out of the saloon okay. You smile to him, and think of what a loyal friend he is. Walking off leisurely towards your house, you begin to speak again.
“Well that was my first time fucking in a brothel Amos. Was it yours?” you ask, amused, and in reply all you receive is a coy smile from your husband. His silence speaks volumes. “A story for another time I gather...” you laugh, and pause for a moment, your satisfied smile growing even larger on your face. Your voice turns to a whisper. “And don’t ask me how I know this doc, but I think you may have just impregnated me again.”
The docs smile grows also, and you finally reach your home.
