Slippery When Wet Read online

  Contents

  Product Description

  Copyright

  Front Matter

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Smart Baztard

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Nurse Cleo spends her days in the supply closets and break rooms of the hospital making the egomaniacal surgeons grovel to get a whiff at what’s beneath her scrubs. But when problems at home force her to stop playing at work and shape up to earn a promotion for much needed funds, Cleo goes cold turkey and stops toying with the doctors. Unfortunately, a patient’s brother catches her eye. Cleo needs to stay away from the tall, tempting drink of water if she has any hope of getting the promotion and saving her family.

  After his brother is in a racing accident, Eagle is searching for a distraction. The domineering nurse is just what he needs to take his mind off Crow’s injuries. But he may have met his match when Nurse Cleo won’t play by his rules and makes him work harder than any woman ever has to get in her panties. But Eagle’s up for the challenge, especially when Cleo takes him home to share him with a crew of her own.

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 by N. S. Johnson Seneb

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition May 2017

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  Chapter One

  “Nurse Cleo, just what do you think you’re doing?”

  Dr. West’s voice was shrill, like a varsity quarterback being stripped naked by the president of the geek club, then jeered at by the JV chess club, mocked by the extras in the theater club, and pointed at by the full cheer squad.

  “I came in for a prostate exam,” he said.

  “Hmm,” I purred, picking up the speculum and advancing towards him.

  He lay back with his feet in stirrups, his knees up on an exam table. His bare ass cheeks clenched on my approach. My lips curled like a cat approaching a bowl of cream.

  “So why are you giving me an anal exam?” he demanded.

  I pulled on latex gloves, stretching the synthetic material down my fingers and then letting go of the end with a satisfying snap. West winced and my tummy tightened in anticipation. There was nothing in the world like watching a powerful man squirm as you slow marched toward him. Like a secretary who was smarter than her boss; like a wife who doctored the joint bank account; like a little girl wrapping her daddy around her pinky finger.

  Dr. Simon West was the current big man on campus here at Sacred Heart Hospital. He had a string of letters after his name and a stack of medical journal articles by and about him. Everyone, including the Chief of Surgery, cowered in his wake. Not me.

  The bigger and louder they were, the wetter my panties got to bend them to their knees. In Dr. West’s case, his knees were already bent. Bent back towards his belly with his ass presented in offering.

  “I demand you let me up now, nurse.” He spat the word nurse like it was an insult.

  I gave his knees a shove, and they spread wider without protest. The speculum slid easily into his ass. He tried to squirm away, but he didn’t get far. He opened his mouth in what looked like an attempt at a scream, but it turned into a moan.

  He liked it.

  That wouldn’t do. I cranked the device open. It turned the small opening of his anus into a large hole.

  “Awww!”

  There was the music my ears were waiting for.

  “Dr. West,” I said. “I’m checking your exit because you seem to have a problem putting your penis inside too many entrances.”

  West raised his ass as I gave the speculum one more crank. His erect penis lay shackled at his belly. The eye of his penis wept. The twin baby blues on his face watered as well.

  “It’s as I expected,” I tsked. “These tests show that you suffer from chronic masturbation.”

  He squirmed on the exam table. In the stirrups used to examine women’s cervixes, all ten of West’s toes arched back towards his body. His ass was scooted down to the edge of the table. His thighs spread wide like a woman having her yearly pap.

  “There’s only one cure; we need to plug this hole.” I gave the speculum in his ass another crank.

  He gripped the table. His knuckles went white. His eyes glazed over in pleasure.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.” His voice was breathless, his chest heaved. “I demand you stop this now.”

  “I’m only trying to help you,” I said.

  “You’re just a nurse,” he panted. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  I snorted. “You surgeons all think you’re God. The truth is that I save more lives in a week than you will ever save in your entire career. Whereas you couldn’t find the scalpel without a nurse standing next to you. Isn’t that right?”

  I yanked the speculum from his hungry ass. He wailed in protest. His penis jerked inside its cage.

  “What was that?” I said.

  “Yes, Nurse Cleo.” His blue eyes were glassy as he turned over his power to me.

  The crotch of my blue scrubs went damp at the wild look in his eyes. It was a look of complete submission. My grin spread on the right side of my mouth, stretching East at the wickedness of it all. Now that I had his full attention, we could begin.

  I cupped his balls in one hand and reached for the dildo with the other. Dr. West may have been a lion in the halls of the hospital, but I was about to turn him into a pussycat.

  I held up the monster dick for him to see. His eyes widened, and he gulped. I wondered if he actually wanted me to do this? Not that it mattered. He was the type that would never safe word. He saw it as a sign of weakness. He was lucky I was a compassionate sadist.

  I liked to make my subs suffer. But I also liked to play with them again and again. So, I tried not to break them. At least not irreparably. I oiled up the monster dick as Sacred Heart Hospital’s heterosexual god panted in anticipation.

  At some point in their lives, every man wants to be pegged. They’re men, after all. They walk the earth pretending they have all the answers. But deep down inside, they’re all little boys afraid of the awesome power that they wield between their legs.

  It was a fantasy; a man that was actually in cha
rge. Men could pretend all they wanted that they ruled the world. Most men walked a straight line. It was women that turned. Just like a boss, or a husband, or a clueless father, they all needed a woman’s touch. It just so happened that I liked touching men’s asses.

  “Please,” he whispered. “No.”

  West shook his head left to right. His thighs fell farther open as he held onto the idea that I was forcing him into this lewd act. As if I could force this six foot, two hundred twenty pound, testosterone-riddled man into anything. Not with all five foot four and one hundred sixty pounds of me.

  Physically, I may have been your average woman. But my sexual proclivities were entirely, and wholly, and completely deviant. I shoved a bottle of lube up West’s ass. His entire body shook and trembled at the invasion.

  “Please hold your composure, Dr. West.” I lined up the dildo with his hungry hole. “This is a necessary medical procedure. It should not arouse you.”

  As the dildo breached the first layer of his anus, he didn’t tense. He completely relaxed under the assault. His eyes closed, and he had the look of a sub who was lost in a storm of pleasure.

  The drip in my panties stopped. I knew I should have brought the thicker dildo. I’d already pegged him three times this week, and he’d adjusted. The good doctor was like an addict who’d tried weed on Monday and graduated to coke by Thursday.

  I withdrew the fake dick. His eyes flew open like a newborn who’d heard a loud noise. His mouth formed a pouty O like he was about to let out a wailing cry. “What the fuck, Cleo?”

  “What did you just call me?” I flicked at the pink cock cage that held his erection. His penis strained inside the metal bars.

  “I mean, Mistress.”

  “Don’t call me that either.” I slapped his balls and his ass arched off the table. “You wish I was your Mistress. That’s something you have to earn and you’re not worthy. It’s Nurse Cleo to you.”

  West’s eyes were dilated. He was almost too far gone; lost in pleasure when I’d only given pain and frustration. Getting him off was too easy. I was getting bored.

  Time to make this interesting. I slipped off my bottom scrubs and thong. West’s eyes latched onto the key that dangled from my earlobe. It matched the lock to the cock ring he’d been wearing all day. I flicked my hair over my shoulder until it covered the ring. Some of the excitement left West’s eyes.

  I grinned as I climbed aboard the exam table. I hovered my bare pussy above his face. My knees boxed in his ears.

  “Oh, thank you, Nurse Cleo.” His grin returned. His tongue reached out.

  I raised my hips. “Don’t you dare touch my pussy. Lick my ass.”

  He did as he was told. He laved his tongue around the rim of my anus. I sat my cheeks down right on his nose.

  “You are not worthy of this pussy,” I said as I swiveled my hips all over his face, getting him covered in my scent. “But you want it, don’t you?”

  He couldn’t respond with his tongue at work and his face covered. I knew it, but I didn’t take it as an excuse. I slapped at his balls when I couldn’t hear his response. The flesh of his straining penis was hot and throbbing in the tight cage. His moans of pain sent a thrill through my clit, which is why I didn’t realize I’d gone too far until it was too late.

  He wasn’t allowed to come until I did. And he knew it. But, of course, the bastard shot off before I got there.

  A cock cage strains the erection, not allowing it to reach its full potential. It makes coming difficult, but not impossible. West was an overachiever. I looked back as his cramped dick wept its pleasure.

  “You greedy, little slut.”

  “Fuck,” he sighed with a sated grin. His head lolled back as he continued to come down from that subspace high and noted the mess he’d made. “Aw,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, Cleo.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  He blinked as though I’d awakened him from a wet dream. “Aren’t we done? The scene, or whatever, is over.”

  He was done. I hadn’t come yet. In fact, I hadn’t come for weeks since I’d been playing around with him. The last time I came was the first time we’d fucked. The first time I’d broken him by sticking my fingers in his ass in the hospital supply closet.

  That orgasm had been great. So great that I’d been chasing after it for the last two weeks. Tonight, just like the last half-dozen times I’d played with him; he’d gotten to the finish line before I’d gone a quarter mile. I prepared to climb off him and end things when there was a knock at the door.

  “Dr. West?”

  West looked pointedly at the straps on the stirrups. “Let me up, Cleo.”

  I stayed put, hovering my cunt over his face. A tingle zinged my clit as his eyes widened in true fear.

  “Dr. West, are you in there?”

  A wide grin spread across my face. “Do you want me to get that for you, Dr. West?” I asked, not quite loud enough to be heard outside the room.

  “Yes,” West called out to the door. “No,” he whispered in a growl at me.

  The door rattled. My mouth watered at the possibility of the intrusion. I wasn’t an exhibitionist. I just liked the idea of West’s terror at being caught in such a compromising position. But the pussy below me had locked the damn door. He was absolutely no fun.

  “Can I come in?” said the person outside.

  “No,” said West. “I’m… tied up at the moment.” He yanked at the restraints.

  “You’re needed in the ER,” said the voice.

  West’s eyes lit. He wasn’t only a sexual whore; he was also a surgery whore. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He looked pointedly at me. I got up and untied him. I might play with him, but I didn’t play when it came to my job. I pulled up my underwear and pants, tossed the latex gloves in the bin, and headed for the door.

  “Wait,” West called out behind me as he splashed water on his face. “Make sure the coast is clear.”

  “Yeah,” I snorted. “Okay, Scooby.” I tossed up my thumbs and then reached out and turned the doorknob without looking first. If he wanted to hide his true nature, that was him. I didn’t do closets.

  Chapter Two

  I left the exam room and walked into a war zone. It wasn’t a war zone like you’d find in the Middle East or Central Africa or even in Eastern Europe. There were no guns. No one wailed. No one was dressed in fatigues or cloth that covered them from head-to-toe.

  There were a number of scantily clad girls in neon skirts and threadbare halter-tops. This city was a destination for randy Spring Breakers. So my first thought was this was a backyard barbecue or beach bonfire gone wrong.

  Then I noted that the few guys assembled were in jumpsuits that covered them from head-to-toe. There were smudges on everyone’s faces, shoulders, hands and clothes. I wasn’t a sports’ fan, but I knew racecar drivers wore flame retardant suits.

  I entered the triage area and took stock. There were only four emergency room nurses on call at this time of day. It was lunchtime. A slow time in the ER. The most we got in at this time were work-related incidents; falls from changing light bulbs, ingesting ink through the mouth, ear, and eyes, even temporary blindness from copy machines.

  I sifted through the scantily clad girls and sectioned them off to one side of the room. The major concerns in that mix were minor burns on their bare chests, scrapes on their knees, and soot in their weaves.

  The men were a little worse-for-wear with burns on their hands. Some were coughing from possible smoke inhalation. Those I sent off with other nurses to check their ABC’s; airway, breathing and circulation. The worst cases would need to be administered oxygen through a mask, but it was likely that most simply needed to breathe some clean air.

  I approached a pale man with hair so light-blond it was white. He, too, was in one of the racing suits. There were burn marks along the fabric at his shoulder along with a patch of blood. “Sir, let me have a look.”

  He jerked away from my touc
h like I was a hissing snake. “Don’t touch me you fucking coon. You might give me an infection.”

  I didn’t flinch at his diatribe. I’d been called worse. He didn’t hit on my least favorite slur; mutt. Because technically, that’s what I was. I was a mix of just about every race from both of my mixed heritage parents, much like my namesake, Cleopatra.

  I let him go. Misogynists turned me on because I liked breaking them. Racists made me want to trade my dildos for scalpels. Still, I had a duty to serve anyone who came through those doors.

  “I told them to take me to Sisters of Mercy, the Catholic hospital,” the racist said. “But they brought me to the fucking ghetto.”

  He stormed towards the ER doors, holding his shoulder. A small trail of males followed behind him. I caught a swastika on two of their jackets as they turned. Just before they headed out the glass doors of the ER, the doors slammed open and a gurney careened inside.

  The white-blond male’s eyes narrowed and his lips quirked. The guy on the gurney turned to him with a glare. The paramedics blocked them as they rushed patient inside. The paramedics began shouting out stats.

  I took a look at the guy on the gurney. He was in one of the racing suits, but his suit was not wholly intact. Fire had made its way into the fabric at his shoulder and leg. His blond hair was pristine, but there were smudge marks on his face.

  A girl raced to keep up with the gurney. Her short legs stumbling as they pumped alongside the big men to keep up. Tears streamed down her pretty face as she clasped the injured racer’s hand. Her church girl ensemble seemed out of sorts with his devil-may-care looks.

  “MK, babe, I promise I’m fine,” the blond racecar driver said.

  But he didn’t sound fine. His voice croaked. He had to pause after every other word. He winced as she touched his shoulder.

  I looked him up and down. There was blood on his costume, but I couldn’t immediately determine the location of the wound. This case would be where the action was so I latched myself onto the gurney. I grabbed the chart and began the intake. Dr. West wasn’t the only medical whore in the building.