Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series (11 page)

Chapter 17

Lisa:

He put his hand on my thigh as he drove back. “I can’t wait to see the rest of the outfit,” he said. “I mean, it’s a great dress, but yeah, it needs to go.” He looked at me as he said it, and I could see the barely-held control in his eyes.

I bit my lip as the wetness flooded my pussy.

“Do you want to play tonight?” he asked me. “Bedroom or exam room?”

The bedroom would have been nice, but the thought of the exam room sent spirals of clenched arousal through my body. As conflicted as I was about his dominance and my submission, some essential bit of me needed this.

“Exam room,” I whispered.

We pulled into his driveway. He handed me his key. “Go upstairs. Take off the dress. Stand in the center of the room. Wait for me.” The tone of his voice had changed; it was harder; steelier.

I nodded wordlessly and obeyed.

***

The examination table was lower to the ground today. It was usually waist-high; today, it was level with my knee. The stirrups were gone as well.

I took off my dress; looked around for a place to put it, finally draping it over the banister of the stairs. I had worn my hair up for the AGO reception; I pulled the hair pins out of my hair, shaking it loose, letting it cascade down my shoulders. I debated taking the shoes off, but decided against it in the end; my orders had not mentioned them.

Deep breath. I stood in the centre of the room; my eyes lowered, breathing in and out. The submission was seductive; placing myself in Patrick’s control, trusting him to take care of me; these were sensations I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for a very long time. Ever since Nick had taken more from me than I should have permitted, I’d placed a tight rein over my feelings; stayed far away from this world. And yet, here I was again, and I wasn’t nervous or scared; I was aroused.

I could hear the sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs. I could hear the swishing of silk; he was moving my gown. Then, I saw his feet in the doorway of the examination room; heard his sigh of pleasure as he saw me in the lingerie he had bought for me.

“Beautiful,” he said. His voice was quiet, contemplative; his eyes were on my face, not my body.

Silence filled the room; a silence accented by the sound of my breathing.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I looked at him; he wasn’t smiling. His gaze held mine, and his eyes were hot with need, overlaid with another emotion that I couldn’t let myself see.

“You are lovely,” he repeated. “A vision.”

His voice changed; became firmer. “Turn around,” he ordered.

I turned; I could feel his eyes rake my back; eye the scrap of lace disappearing between my butt cheeks; my garter outlining my ass.

“Perfection.”

He moved towards me; I could feel his naked chest on my back; his heat warming me, yet sending chills through me. He reached around me to cup my breasts; to stroke his thumbs on my nipples. They responded instantly to his touch; hardening in pleasure.

I fought to remain still.

His hands slid down my body; caressed my sides, swooped a steady line from my breasts to my waist, cinched by the garter belt; settled on my hips. I felt him tease the knot of the ribbons holding the panties in place.

“I know next to nothing about lingerie,” he said, his voice amused, “but I will admit I was looking for pieces that were easy to remove.”

My lips twitched.

The knot came undone, a quick tug, and my panties were off. I was now clad in my bra, my garter belt, stockings and shoes. I closed my eyes against the sudden heat in my blood. My heart beat faster.

He pulled close to me, his arms reaching around me to my breasts again. His voice was low in my ear. “You have a safe word; I’m going to push you tonight. Use it anytime you need.”

I nodded; my pulse racing. What did he have in store for me?

He stepped back from me; flicked a couple of switches on the wall. The light changed; the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights from the examination room were replaced by softer, warmer lighting. But his voice was firm; commanding.

“Lisa,” he said, hard intent in his voice. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you in your ass. And you are going to beg for it.”

My breath caught. All I could think about was how much it had hurt the one and only time I’d had anal sex.

“I’m going to put my dick at your entrance, baby,” he continued. “And you are going to plead with me to push it in you. And I’m going to wait, right there, my head just opening your tight little hole, and I’m going to tell you to push back against me; to impale yourself on me.”

I bit my lip. He was painting me a vivid and erotic picture, and my body was responding to him; my pussy wet and clenching; my skin sparkling with nerves; my entire being pulsing with pleasure.

“And you are going to be so wet, so dripping, so ready, that you are going to push willingly against me. And you are going to moan my name as I claim you.”

Everything went hazy as arousal took over my body at his words. His hands were cupping my breasts; his thumbs rubbing against my nipples. Tremors ran through my body at his words; juice dripped down my pussy to my thighs.

“I can already smell your arousal, baby,” he said, his voice dominant. “You are going to do this for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, my words a growl of lust.

“Yes, you are,” he said, and I could hear the pleasure there. “You are going to do this because I want it, just as you wore the lingerie because I asked. You are such a good girl, baby.”

I flushed; happy I had pleased him. My mind was a haze; all thought was lost in the swirl of sensation his words unleashed in me.

“But first, before all that, let’s clean you up,” he said. “Kneel on the exam table, please, Miss Preston,” he added, his voice crisp.

I moved towards the examination table on unsteady legs. The heels were high, and I was trembling with lust.

He chuckled. “Take off the shoes,” he said indulgently. “You aren’t going to need them.”

I kicked off my heels, a small sigh of bliss running through me as feeling returned to my feet. They were lovely shoes, but they were insanely uncomfortable.

“Poor Lisa,” he said soothingly, his hands on my stocking-covered legs. His fingers massaged my feet, and I moaned slightly as his hands soothed the ache.

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, looking at him.

He nodded, smiled. “Least I can do,” he said, “since I did drag you to the AGO.” His fingers continued their work for a few minutes, then he nodded to me. “Ok, kneel on the examination table, please.”

If there was one way in which Patrick was different from Nick, it was that the play felt more personal. Perhaps it was because Patrick took the scene less seriously; with Nick, I got the feeling he was striving for the perfectly trained sub. With Patrick, there was always awareness of who I was. In a way, it was scarier; I couldn’t lose myself in the fantasy, the emotions were too real. Patrick demanded heightened consent.

I knelt on the table. His hands were on my shoulders, bending me forward. “Shoulders on the table, ass up.” His instructions were crisp; precise. My head and shoulders lowered to rest on the padded examination table, my ass was raised in the air. I could feel the cool air touch my opened pussy and asshole; feel his eyes rest on my exposed body.

“Nice,” was all he said. “Bring your hands back, clasp your ankles,” he directed. I obeyed.

Smack. It wasn’t his hands that he had used, a riding crop, maybe? I hadn’t felt one of these on my body in a long time. Arousal rushed through me. “Lift your ass higher in the air,” he chided. “I want to see your pussy and your ass; ready for me to use.”

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I murmured. He was being far more dominant today than he’d ever been before. I should have been nervous; instead, I was painfully aroused. I lifted my ass in the air, thrust my pussy out in compliance. My grip tightened on my ankles as I fought to hold the perfect position.

I hadn’t assumed this position in twelve years, and the strangest thing about it all was that I wasn’t afraid.

“You know, when you first told me you wanted to play dirty doctor,” he said, “I thought it would be too weird for me. After all, this is work for me. I thought that any fantasy involving examination tables and other medical equipment would just make me feel strange.” His fingers were tracing the outline of my pussy, spreading the wetness from my pussy to my ass, just rimming that hole, spreading the moisture around it. I fought to hold steady; to please him by keeping still.

“But thankfully, work is still work; I’m having no inappropriate thoughts about any of my patients. But this room? This room is where fantasy can become real. And baby, I find myself having so many fantasies about you…”

He walked away for a bit; I stayed in position and wondered what he had in store for me. Anal sex; that was definitely on the docket, he’d warned me. Slight fear coated my thoughts as I pondered that, but I brushed the fear away. Everything Patrick had done to me was sensual; I was aroused by everything he did. I couldn’t imagine feeling violated the same way I had when Nick had taken my ass all those years ago.

He was back. My face pressed down on the examination table as it was, I couldn’t see what he was doing. His hands were at my ankles, I could feel something, perhaps rope; and his fingers were on my hands and my legs, and before I knew it, I was tied up; each hand tied to its ankle in a way that I couldn’t move my hands free.

“Scouts training?” I asked.

He laughed, and flicked the crop against my ass. It stung briefly, but he hadn’t hit hard; just a flick to make a point. “I should tell you to keep quiet,” he said, his voice amused. “Nope, I learned how to tie some knots during medical school. But I do also like tying women up…”

I supposed I asked for it, but I definitely didn’t like the thought of him with other women. I didn’t even know if he was sleeping with someone else right now; we had no conversations about exclusivity. But this wasn’t a productive train of thought when I was tied up. I pushed all those thoughts out of my mind with determination.

“As I was saying about my fantasies…”

I gulped. He moved away; I could heard him wheel something into the room. I peeked, it was an enema bag. I made a face to myself. I wouldn’t have Patrick shaving me this time to distract me from the discomfort.

“No peeking.” His voice was firm; his order punctuated by another flick of the crop.

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered. My pussy was gushing; juices flowing down my thighs. I could feel his finger touch my thigh; scoop up the wetness.

“Delicious,” he muttered.

I could hear the spurt of lube being squeezed out through a tube, then I felt his fingers on my asshole. I fought not to clench, he noticed. “Lisa,” he said, his voice very soft. “I’m not going to hurt you baby, I promise.” His hands were at my shoulders, stroking me. Calming me.

I took a deep breath. “I know,” I said, my voice muffled. “Just go slow, and I’ll be okay.”

His hands moved to my back, traced a line from my shoulder down my back, and his fingers tickled my asshole again. His finger slid into my asshole, up to his first knuckle; pushing lube into my puckered bud. His other hand stroked my pussy. I could hear his smile as he saw how wet I was.

“You are dripping, baby,” he said, pleasure in his voice. “Is it being tied down? Is it the crop?”

“All of it,” I muttered. “You,” I thought. He leaned forward and kissed the small of my back.

“So sexy,” he said quietly. “Ready for your enema?”

“Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered again.

He lubed up the nozzle; I felt it at the entrance of my ass. I whimpered a little; this felt bigger than the previous nozzle.

“Hush, baby,” he soothed. “You can take this.” His fingers pushed, and the rings of my ass gave way to the nozzle. He adjusted a lever on the tube, and I could feel the water gushing into me.

I bit my lip silently. The gushing of water was erotic, at least for the moment, before too much of it filled me.

The water kept flowing into me, and I groaned. I felt full, overflowing. I moaned.

His lips were on the small of my back; kissing me, touching me. His hands traced the outline of the garter belt; his fingers stroked the spot on my thighs where the stocking met my skin. Finally, it was done; the enema bag was empty; and he removed the tube from the nozzle.

“The nozzle serves as a plug as well,” he said. He unbound my hands from my ankles. “I’d like you to wait ten minutes,” he ordered. “Let’s see if we can find a way to distract you.”

A flick of the crop; I’d let my ass slump. “Lift it in the air,” he ordered. “I want to see that pussy.”

I obeyed; I wanted to please him. His fingers were on my pussy, spreading my lips, his thumb finding my clitoris with assurance.

“You have to ask for permission to orgasm.” His voice was firm.

I whimpered, but I nodded my compliance.

Two fingers entered my pussy, twisting and turning, curving so he hit my g-spot with each thrust. His thumb stroked my clitoris firmly. I writhed beneath his pleasurable torture.