Yes, Doctor

by Renee Rose

  “Pierced belly button,” he observed as he palpated her belly. “Very nice. Feet in the stirrups, please. And slide your bottom down to the edge.”

  She obeyed, placing her heels in the plastic rings and scooting into the vulnerable position.

  He snapped on latex-free gloves and pulled up a stool, switching on the light and sitting face to face with her most intimate parts. He stroked her sex with his gloved thumb. “Pretty,” he observed.

  She didn’t know what made a vagina attractive, but then, he had seen a million of them, so if anyone was qualified judge, it would be him. He peeled her labia back to expose her even further. The light warmed her bottom, and her pussy grew even more moist in response.

  “Good color,” he reported, as if she were taking notes on a chart. He stood up and rubbed two fingers across her opening. “Adequate lubrication. Are you on the pill, Miss Jones?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Which one?”

  She told him, trying not to shudder with pleasure as he continued to casually stroke along her slit.

  “Any trouble with dryness during sex?”

  She rolled her eyes. She literally hadn’t had sex in at least a year—finding the post-college dating pool too limited.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I can’t really remember,” she said drily.

  He stopped stroking and fixed her with a stern glare. “What does that mean, Miss Jones?”

  “It means I haven’t done it in a long time,” she mumbled.

  “Ah. I see,” he said, relaxing and resuming a slow caress.

  “What did you think it meant?”

  “I was afraid you were going to tell me you were too drunk or something like that.”

  “Oh,” she giggled. “No. I do go out to bars, but I haven’t picked anyone up in ages.”

  “Why are you on the pill?”

  “Just in case.”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I approve, Chloe,” he said, dropping the “Miss Jones.” She wondered if he was giving her real medical advice. “It’s not to regulate a heavy flow or painful cramps?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, your liver has to process those hormones. Studies have not proven any negative long-term effects, but taking a prescription drug ‘just in case’ doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

  “Well you’re not female,” she shot back.

  He ignored her retort, applying a dollop of lubricant to his gloved finger and rubbing it over her opening. “This may be a little cold,” he said in his usual efficient doctor tone.

  The insertion of a stainless steel speculum made her gasp, and she had to will herself to relax, just like at any gynecological appointment. A moment of panic had her mind scrambling over the situation. What in the hell was she doing here? Had she really volunteered for a pelvic exam? Because pap smears were normally about as fun as having a tooth pulled, in her book.

  “Does ‘just in case’ mean so you have the flexibility to hook up with any random person without planning to have sex?”

  She lifted her head and glared at him. “Are doctors supposed to judge their patients’ sexual activities?”

  His lips twisted into a sexy grin, melting her irritation. “I’m not judging,” he said, sitting on the stool again and spreading the speculum. “I’m just wondering if you’ve done this before.”

  She bit back a groan.

  “Had an exam from a doctor I find attractive before? No, I definitely would’ve remembered. And actually, as a rule, I only see female gynecologists.” She lifted her head and tumbled into his amused gaze, the panty-melting smile on his lips.

  “Have you done this before?” she managed to ask in little more than a whisper.

  He arched his brows. “Played doctor?” He shrugged. “Only in a relationship. Like with a girlfriend in med school. Or my ex-wife. Never with a patient or staff member before.”

  It pleased her to hear she was his first, in a sense.

  “No change of partners since your last exam, then?” he said as he leaned close to inspect the inside of her canal.

  She didn’t answer, trying to think when her last exam had been.

  He lifted his head and looked at her quizzically.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “When was the exam? Should I pull your file?”

  “I don’t get examined here—that’s disgusting!”

  He laughed and wrapped his big hands around the fronts of her thighs, smiling down at her. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

  She nibbled her lip. “Getting kinky?”

  He laughed again. “Yes, we are. But really, Chloe, the speculum is open. Do you need a pap smear?”

  “Yes, I probably do, but there’s no way I’m going to have you sending my test to the lab. Everyone here will think you gave me an exam.”

  He inserted the plastic spatula and small brush and took a sample of her cells, despite her protests. “That will be your punishment for smoking. The public humiliation of having the staff know that you had a pelvic exam from a doctor who does such things on a routine basis.”

  She rolled her eyes, but he slipped the speculum out, which sent frissons of pleasure billowing through her.

  “I’ll just do the bimanual check,” he said, inserting two fingers in her vagina and pressing back at them with his other hand on her abdomen. He began to slide the fingers in and out and her breathing rate increased while she tried not to moan like a cat in heat.

  “Lubrication still appears healthy,” he observed.

  “You’re killing me, here,” she muttered.

  His lips curled. “Am I? Are you afraid I’ll never get you off?”

  Just the suggestion of giving her pleasure made something in her core flip flop with excitement. He shoved his fingers in deeper, causing her to gasp with pleasure and then he began to do something on the inside that made it impossible to hold still. She mewled and bucked her hips. He grasped her hip to pin her pelvis down as he continued to tickle her inner wall.

  “No,” she moaned, rolling her head from side to side.

  “Healthy response to g-spot stimulation,” he said in his same clinical tone.

  “Dr. Drake,” she whimpered, “please…”

  “No, Miss Jones. You’re not coming yet,” he said, abruptly removing his fingers.

  She nearly wept with unfulfilled need. “Wait! Please?”

  “I still need to give you your rectal exam.”

  “Oh boy,” Chloe panted, looking alarmed. “I don’t think that’s really necessary. You can just...uh...check my g-spot again, doctor.”

  “Who calls the shots in this exam room?” he snapped in his best “don’t question the surgeon” tone.

  “You do?” she said in a small voice.

  He squirted a dollop of lube on the tip of his gloved finger. “That’s right, Miss Jones. I expect your full cooperation for this examination. And you still have a serious punishment coming for smoking.”

  “I do?” she asked in the same little voice.

  He pressed his finger to her anus and waited until she relaxed it and allowed him in.

  She gave a wanton whimper.

  He slid his finger slowly in and out, watching her face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. “Is it embarrassing to have your ass finger-fucked by your doctor, Chloe?”

  She moaned louder, both a protest and encouragement.

  “Have you ever had anal sex, Chloe?”

  “No,” she gasped.

  “No? Why not? Do you think it would be unpleasurable?”

  “Um...no! Wait—yes?”

  He chuckled. “Are you getting confused?” He applied more lube and picked up the pace, plunging in and out of her.

  “Oh God…” she moaned. “No...no...no…oh God.”

  He shoved his thumb in her pussy and rocked back and forth between the two, sliding deep into her anal cavity, then to the hilt of his thumb.

  “Oh please, oh p
lease, oh please, oh please…” her fingers balled into fists in the paper covering on the exam table and she tore chunks off, gritting her teeth. “Ahhhhh!” she screamed through clenched jaws as her vaginal walls contracted around his thumb and he pounded his digits into both holes at once.

  She rolled her head to the side, sobbing with the release.

  He eased his fingers out and wiped the lube off her with a towel. “Very good, Chloe. You did so well with your first pelvic exam,” he told her as he helped ease her heels from the stirrups. “Now, I may need to see you back here sooner than one year. I may need to repeat this fairly often, in fact,” he ad libbed.

  He hoped she would want to play again and not be embarrassed about what had passed between them.

  She moaned softly. He pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash, eager to touch her skin. Sliding his hands up her legs, he caressed her, soothing away the post-climactic trembling. She tried to roll onto her side, but instead he lifted her to sit and wrapped his arms around her, holding her head against his chest and stroking her back.

  When she lifted her face, the shy vulnerability he saw there surprised him. Cradling her chin, he lowered his head and nibbled at her lips. She closed her eyes and arched into him, lifting her mouth to his, responding with sweet little kisses. He smiled against her mouth.

  When he drew away, he spun his hands around her breasts, twiddling her erect nipples. “We do need to have a talk, though.”

  She tensed. “Okay.”

  “What’s the deal with the smoking?”

  “Look,” she explained, her words coming out in a rush. “I only smoke when I drink. And just a couple cigarettes, but I had this pack in my purse from last weekend, and...I just wanted one.”

  “Okay,” he said evenly. “After you get dressed, you’re going to bring me what’s left in the pack. We don’t allow smoking anywhere here on the premises, and you know that. But worse, I’m quite certain you’re aware of the highly addictive quality of tobacco, as well as the health risks you undertake when smoking.”

  “Yes, doctor,” she said meekly, her submissive tone going straight to his aching cock.

  He picked up her chin and held it, peering into her eyes. “I want you to quit. Not even when you’re drinking.”

  She hesitated.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Or are you a smoker? Too addicted to give it up?”

  “No!” she snapped impatiently. “I can quit. Okay, okay, I’ll quit.”

  “Promise?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Look me in the eye and swear it.”

  She dragged her eyes to meet his. “I promise I won’t smoke again.”

  He smiled. “Thank you. I am going to punish you, so you understand the consequences of breaking your promise to me.”

  She searched his face, her expression uncertain.

  He pulled her down from the exam table and walked her back to the end with the step. “Bend over and put your belly down.”

  She gave the paper a quick yank to bring a fresh sheet under her and obeyed, lowering her torso over the end of the examination table.

  He walked over to the cupboard where Dr. Dihns kept her arthritis cream.

  "Are you going to spank me?" she asked, sounding far too excited about the prospect.

  “It's a medically induced spanking,” he explained, slipping on a new pair of latex-free gloves and squeezing a small dollop of the cream on his finger. “This will sting just like you've had a long hard spanking and it will last a couple of hours."

  He rubbed a scant amount on her twin globes, knowing it was better to go light than put too much on and have her hopping around with steam coming out of her ears. As it was, she might never speak to him after she experienced the burn of capsaicin cream. She wiggled her butt, as if she wanted more.

  He wrapped a fist in her hair and tugged her head back. “No smoking, Chloe,” he murmured in her ear. “Understand?”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  He released her and lifted her torso, turning her to face him.

  “Is that all?”

  His lips twitched in a smile. “It won’t start working for about ten minutes or so. Get dressed, bring me the cigarettes, finish restocking this supply drawer. Then we’ll see if you’re appreciating your punishment.”

  She bent to pick up her clothing.

  “What do you say?”

  “What?”

  “I’m waiting for my yes, doctor.”

  She grinned and leaned forward, lowering her eyelids and making her mouth pouty. “Yes, doctor,” she purred like a 1950’s pin up girl.

  He smacked her ass. “Get moving, Miss Jones.”

  He sat on his stool and folded his arms, watching her dress. His attention made her nervous, which he enjoyed. Plus, she had a spectacular body, so watching her naked form in action was no hardship.

  She dressed quickly, almost frantically, and left the exam room without a word, returning to hand him the cigarettes.

  “Thank you, Chloe,” he said, crumpling the pack and tossing it in the trash.

  He didn’t have to prompt her to organize his supplies, she worked with quick efficiency. When she stood up and closed the drawer, she rubbed her ass.

  “Are you starting to notice it?”

  Her face had flushed. “Ah...yeah,” she said, sounding breathless.

  “Let me inspect,” he said and didn’t wait for her agreement, simply guided her across his lap and pulled down her scrub pants. Her skin had turned pink where he had applied the cream, but did not appear too angry. He actually had learned the trick from a patient who was into BDSM. Her partner had used too much and she showed up in a state of complete panic, with chemical burns all over her poor bottom. Later, curious, he had researched it and found the proper “dosage” to be quite small to have a large effect.

  He gave each cheek a light slap. “Yes, it looks like it’s working.” He lifted her to stand. “Now be honest, is it too much?”

  She swallowed and shook her head, looking glassy-eyed. “No,” she mumbled.

  He patted her backside. “Good. I hope this serves to remind you that I won’t tolerate your naughtiness.”

  “Yes, doctor,” she said, shifting from foot to foot.

  He grinned. “You may leave, Chloe. I’ll give you the results of your lab tests as soon as I get them.”

  She spun around from where she had started to walk to the door. “You’re really going to send them in?”

  “Of course I am,” he said, fixing her with a stern look. “I took a Hippocratic Oath and you placed yourself in my care. It’s my duty to follow through as your healthcare provider.”

  She looked uncomfortable, her hands cupping her ass. She opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and fled from the room.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe drove home with her bottom burning. Dr. Drake had told her if the heat became too much to handle, she should call the clinic and be transferred to him because he was on call but there was no way she was doing that. She assumed that was the equivalent of safe-wording, and she would never humiliate herself that way. Besides...it was a good burn, a heady reminder of the kinky exploit she’d just had. And she enjoyed the flutter of naughtiness it incited.

  She jumped in the shower, but the water only caused the burning to increase. The worst part was that he’d sent her home without actually fucking her. Because now, with her ass on fire, her pussy dripped with wanton need, and no amount of masturbation or vibrators were going to give her relief.

  Why hadn’t he sought any kind of release for himself? She’d seen the giant bulge in his pants. Was it part of his control thing?

  Because clearly the game fit his personality. No one played so well without being into it. He obviously loved being in charge of her and her body, being the voice of authority she could not resist. He could not have improved the scene—having her completely naked, her legs spread, her most intimate parts vulnerable to his plunder, all while he stood
around fully clothed, in his white doctor’s coat, calling all the shots.

  She picked up the phone to call Leigh Ann. Then hung up again. She was too horny for chit chat. She flopped on her bed and slid her hand into her panties, not surprised to find her lady parts still swollen and ready for action. It only took a few strokes of her fingers to come to climax, but it did little to relieve her need. Getting up, she pulled on a pair of running shorts and a tank top and put on her sneakers. She needed to get rid of some energy.

  She took off down her street too fast, fully knowing that without pacing herself, she’d be falling down dead in less than a mile. She didn’t care. She replayed the entire examination three times in her mind before she returned to the question that really drove all her thoughts: would it happen again?

  Had this been a one-time fling? Or would they make it a regular thing? And if it became a regular thing, would it just remain purely sexual? Or would the dashing Dr. Drake pursue a real relationship with her? How would he treat her on Monday? Like it had never happened? Or like they shared a special secret? Would she ever be able to look at him again?

  She would like to pretend she didn’t care either way, that she could roll with it, and take the one-off kinky sex and enjoy it for the fabulous story it made (and she had every intention of sharing almost all the details with Leigh Ann and her other friends). But deep down she knew, if she showed up at work on Monday and Dr. Dreamy acted like nothing happened, she would be crushed.

  By the time she made it back home, with a stitch in her side and a cramped calf muscle, she had steeled her resolve. She needed to get back on matchme.com and find a date. Pronto. Pining and daydreaming about some fantasy relationship with her boss wasn’t healthy or realistic.

  So what if she had a few bad dates? That was how you weeded out the losers. Eventually, she’d find someone…

  Or not.

  She took a second shower, rubbing her calf muscle down under the warm water, her thumbs digging into the origin of the muscle, behind her knee. She took her time and shaved, wishing she’d done it that morning, before she found herself under intense examination. Oh well, too late for that.