Doctor's Orders: A Steamy Medical Romance

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Dipping the tips of two fingers into Darcy's overflowing font, she'd bring them up to the top of her lips, then slowly, very slowly, slide them back down, always skirting to either side of her clit. The moans Darcy issued when she was being fondled this way—and even just during the anal side of things—were nearly as loud as those she emitted while she was being punished.

  When Nurse Crawford determined that she'd had enough, she would allow Darcy to get up and get dressed—usually leaving something inside her somewhere to keep her aroused or to remind her to behave—not that her scorched bum wouldn't do that, too.

  Of course, those weren't the only things she wore. The doctor loved seeing her impudent nipples pressing against her uniform, so she was quickly required to wear something to keep them that way, most usually the elastic rings, which the doctor had definitely taken a liking to. Sometimes, he had multiples of them applied, which made her nipples poke out so much that it was impossible for anyone not to notice them, but she was required to work that way, regardless. She knew people were staring at her nipples—even though a hundred percent of their patients were women—and it added to the shame she felt, which ratcheted up her desire another several notches.

  At the appointed time, when she was finally going to be allowed a sexual release, Darcy remained after work. It was a Friday night, and she wasn't going to be allowed to skip her usual punishment. To the contrary, it was a much worse one than usual. He used his hand, the cane and the paddle, and finally, his belt, until she thought she'd lose consciousness from it.

  They were in a different room—one she hadn't been in before. It looked like an operating theatre, complete with a gallery, only there was definitely a gynecological exam table in the middle of the room, rather than one on which a surgery would be performed. Although, as she was flipped over onto her back and offered a bit of water to replace the many tears she had wept, she wondered if he hadn't started with a surgical table and then added gynecological elements—among others—to it, for the grand design exam tables he used on his special patients and, now, her, too.

  But there were no drapes for her. She wasn't allowed even the semblance of modesty. Darcy was completely exposed, as always, only this time, her legs were pushed up and back, as if she was going to deliver a baby, which put her pussy at center stage—every glorious, denuded pink inch of it.

  She was, of course, completely secured, although Darcy noted that there were a few extra straps than usual. One was above her breast and one right below, as if outlining them, and then the regular ones around her arms and wrists as they were attached to the cushioned rests that held her arms at a forty-five-degree angle from her body and around her waist and hips. She was surprised that there was no gag this time, although there was a strap across her forehead that held her head to the table. Her legs were held in place by soft straps that were nonetheless very strong, and her feet were also set into stirrups that kept her from putting her legs down.

  It took her a moment to notice as Angine and the doctor were getting things ready—and that the nurse had taken the usual measurement of her intimate fluid output—that there were quite a few big mirrors placed around her—along with big lights. She felt as if she was going to be on display of some sort, which, of course, was ridiculous.

  But it wasn't so ridiculous when the doctor—who was fully garbed as if he was going to perform a surgery—nodded to Nurse Crawford, who was dressed the same way, including a sterile mask over her face that the doctor wasn't wearing, and she turned to press a button on the wall that pulled back the curtains in the two galleries that were on either side of her to reveal the entire staff of the practice, eagerly gazing down at her.

  Despite the fact that she knew—intellectually, by now—that struggling wasn't going to get her anywhere, she often couldn't help herself, and this was definitely one of those times. She desperately wanted to cover herself, but instead, she watched helplessly as the doctor reached over and turned the big lights on, adjusting them so that they were concentrated on her breasts and the area where he took point—right between her legs.

  As all of this was happening, she realized that the top of the table was being slowly slanted down, so that her privates were raised up and presented in even further detail to the only too interested gawkers.

  He nodded almost imperceptibly at his nurse, who proceeded to attach four elastic rings to each nipple in quick order, while she wept and moaned with each application.

  "Look at how her nipples plump up! And they become terribly sensitive, too." His voice boomed through the room, his every syllable amplified, as were her responses, although those were quickly turned down a bit.

  All of her desperate, pleading, "No, please!" was completely ignored as the doctor proceeded to hold up a good-sized butt plug, showing it to the crowd. Darcy recognized it as the next step up from what Nurse Crawford was already using on her.

  "Don't let her moans and wails fool you. Darcy loves every bit of what's being done—and has been done over the course of the past nine months—to her. And we have the scientific measurements to prove it." With a theatrical flair, he showed Darcy—and thus everyone else—that he was lubricating the plug generously with Tiger Balm as he placed it at the entrance to her rectum. "And this is one thing she likes more than most things—to be stretched back here, which is something Nurse Crawford and I are only too willing to assist with. The Tiger Balm is just an extra, added effect and to keep her on her toes."

  To Darcy's horror, he began to push it, just barely, up into her as he continued to talk to the people in the gallery while her very innards began to burn and sizzle, and she, indeed, gave her best effort at getting away from the advance of that thing into her bowels, trying to be on her toes, but she was too well held to achieve much of anything. "You might have noticed that she often sits rather gingerly around the office. That's because Angine has volunteered, over the past months, to help me with Darcy's training. She's undergone something like the teasing treatment I give to some of my more particular patients, only intensified quite considerably. She has also not been allowed to orgasm for nine months exactly, even though we've been subjecting her to those exact things that titillate her the most."

  As much as she tried to avoid it—not wanting to humiliate herself in front of all of those people—Darcy couldn't keep herself from panting and moaning and, most shamefully, begging him to stop, as she felt herself being inexorably forced to accommodate the width of the plug.

  "Her nipples are usually quite distended, and that's because of the rings that were often applied to them, as they were just now. She has also been disciplined—quite firmly and quite often, as you may have heard earlier—by myself or her nurse for her mistakes at work, as well as being given frequent enemas that accompany her anal training. The two kind of go, well, hand in hand, sort of."

  There was a chuckle from the audience at that.

  "Tonight, she's going to be allowed to orgasm for the first time in a very long while, and probably the last time in an equally—if not longer—while. And you, her fellow employees, are here to witness that event."

  He had reached the widest point of the plug, the part that was hardest to take, and began to twist it up inside her as she wept and sobbed and tried to relax to ease the pressure and the pain, but there was nothing she could do to help it as it was plunged home inside her.

  The gallery gasped at her high-pitched yelp as Dr. Brackett seated it within her, then nodded for the nurse to come down and take another measurement. Nurse Crawford announced, with obvious glee, that her output had increased three-fold between the period after her punishment and the time the plug was applied.

  There were more gasps and tittering giggles from the audience at that, which made Darcy want to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

  "Now, since we've already established what she so obviously loves, Nurse Crawford is going to apply Tiger Balm to her nipples."

  It was no sooner said than done, a dollop applied to each
engorged peak then rubbed in, then more mercilessly applied on top of that while Darcy shrieked as her nipples felt as if they were being reduced to ashes.

  Lastly, he produced a very large vibrating dildo that he plunged into her to the hilt and used a hidden prop to keep lodged deep inside her, so that both openings were stretched almost beyond her capacity.

  When her protestations had died down, as had the chattering in the audience, the doctor said, "Now, Darcy, you are being granted a very great favor, tonight. You are going to be made to come. I say that because I want you to realize that you have no more control over this than you do being spanked or having your little bottom filled with hot, soapy solution. You are here and will orgasm because that's what your nurse and I want you to do."

  The doctor again nodded to Angine, who affixed the same clothespins she'd already been subject to more often than not, only never over nipples that were also under the effects of that horrible pepper balm.

  Amid her howls, Dr. Brackett reached into that same jar and brought out two fingers covered with it that he then applied to her clit.

  After allowing that to sit for what seemed like forever to Darcy, who was mindless from the burning, he changed gloves and squirted out a small amount of KY and applied his fingers to that same spot—it was still hard and swollen as it had been since he'd begun with her. Despite what was being done to her—or more likely because of it—that had never wavered, and he had a feeling that, even after this evening, she was going to be standing just as proud.

  She couldn't help what she liked, and he was more than willing to give it to her. In spades.

  Eventually, he began to move those fingers over that tiny mound, splitting them around it sometimes, but usually riding on the top of it. At first, Darcy couldn't feel anything but the agonizing torture of the unguent, but then what he was doing to her—and also his stated intent—overcame the discomfort, and suddenly, her head was whipping back and forth because she felt as if she was going to explode, not because he was whipping her behind, or spreading her bottom hole wide open, or torturing her nipples, but because of all of the combined torture and teasing sessions when she'd been left wanting, physically aching, for release.

  His fingers were relentless on her clit, rubbing, pinching slightly sometimes, frigging her constantly but at a damnably slow pace. His eyes were riveted on her as her body tried to writhe and heave with the sensations he was causing—pure pleasure, for once, but still pleasure earned through pain and embarrassment and submission.

  Darcy's world consisted of those points on her body that he had consciously affected and his fingers. And when it began to build up—that undeniable wave of ecstasy—she became frightened, but he didn't give her any choice but to try to deal with it. He retained complete control of her body, and he never changed or stopped or slowed his rhythm in the least, even when he heard that raw, throaty growl begin deep in her chest until it tried to come out her wide-open mouth. She had already exhausted the extent of her voice, but he knew she was screaming with it, with a peak that was too much for her, that was so obviously, rawly mind-blowing, because, seconds later, she fainted.

  He had thought that might happen to a woman who was as obviously sensual and sexual as she was, so he was prepared and had the nurse waving smelling salts under her nose almost immediately, and once she was brought around, he continued the exact same rhythm.

  At first, Darcy had wanted him to never stop, but then she wanted him desperately to stop. She was so sensitive, she thought that if he didn't, she might out and out die from it.

  But she was wrong, and he was right. All she did was continue to orgasm, sometimes lighter, sometimes much harder, as he manipulated her body to his liking, forcing more explosions from her than anyone could count until he finally allowed her to collapse.

  He dismissed the staff and the three of them were alone again as they usually were. Darcy was surprised at how gently the two of them treated her, washing her like a baby, dressing her, and even taking her home. The doctor refused to allow her to drive—her legs were shaking so badly she could barely stand. He got her keys from her and delivered her car to her himself, later that evening.

  And when she awoke the next morning, not having remembered even how she had gotten into bed the night before, she found an envelope on her nightstand with the doctor's bold handwriting on it. Inside was a check made out to her. A bonus check, for nine thousand dollars.

  A thousand for each month she had been denied.

  Part II

  Tit for Tat

  Chapter 6

  How could she possibly have stayed at this job for this long, Darcy asked herself as the belt rose and fell across the swollen hillocks of her behind. She had to have some kind of mental deficit. There was something severely wrong with her. There had to be, or she would have quit long since.

  But the money—ah, the money. That was the rub. Especially when she'd discovered that it was possible to make even more than that extremely generous salary that the doctor paid his staff.

  He had doubled it up this time, so she was getting twice the emphasis as each thwack landed, and this time, she wasn't the only one on the hot seat—or getting one, rather.

  Her old tormenter, Nurse Crawford, was just as naked as she was, also standing on her tiptoes with her wrists bound together then looped over a hook that she had never seen before in the mirrored wall that was just tall enough to make sure they had no choice but to dance like that through the entire punishment, never quite able to stretch far enough to gain release as the stiff leather rose and fell in a terrible rhythm that had each of them howling from the start.

  "Did I say you could touch her in any manner other than to discipline her or measure just how wet she was, Nurse Crawford?" the doctor asked angrily.

  It was obvious that Angine wasn't used to being on the other side of the belt. "N-no, sir!" she nearly screamed.

  The doctor liked to lecture as he whipped. "Then why would you do that? You skewed the results of your own and, therefore, my research! It will all have to be repeated at great cost to me—in time and expense—to say nothing of the cost to Darcy."

  That had Darcy wailing right along with her, not that she wasn't already from the stripes he was laying down on her ass. Repeated? The money she had received at the end of what had been nine long months of sexual torture had been a nice reward—and totally unexpected—but she wasn't at all sure she could tolerate another nine months—especially since there was no guarantee that he'd keep it that length. A year had been bandied about before, and she was even less interested in that.

  But then, the way she was treated hadn't inspired her to quit immediately—or even after a very public culmination either, and nothing had really changed much except that, now, there were even more people who were authorized to spank, paddle, tawse or otherwise correct and/or humiliate her, since the doctor had deputized most of the staff. Perhaps there would be a silver lining to this, after all. If he couldn't trust Angine, maybe he'd reconsider letting so many people discipline her.

  And now there were two others who were on the lowest rung with her, and one of them appeared—at least right now—to be her former tormentor, although there was no telling how long that was going to last.

  "I-I'm s-sorry, sir!" Nurse Crawford wept.

  "No, I don't think so. Not yet, but I promise you, you will be."

  That sent a shiver up Darcy's spine, and then, suddenly, he turned his malevolent attention to her.

  "And you—Darcy—you should have told me what was going on. I know that neither of you ever heard anything from me about her being allowed to pleasure you in any way, and you should have told me."

  All Darcy could do was echo her companion in pain's previous cry, "I'm sorry, sir!"

  None of which seemed to placate him in the least. The belt continued to rain misery down as it viciously scorched two sets of plump buttocks. "As of this moment, Nurse Crawford, you are relieved of your supervisory position over Darcy and a
nyone else you might have been given management of, and you will be subject to the same regime as she was until you can prove to me that you are ready to be trustworthy again."

  "And, Darcy, you're going to have a new supervisor. One, who, I can assure you, won't be interested in fondling you in the least."

  And he wasn't kidding.

  He had hired a middle-aged woman—Nurse Carson—as a Nurse Manager, who went entirely against the type he usually liked to surround himself with. Unlike nearly everyone else in the office, who were tall, leggy blondes in their twenties, this nurse was middle aged and a bit stout, with a perpetual scowl on her face. She was there for one reason, and one reason only—to keep the nurses on their toes by making sure they followed the doctor's rules and orders to the letter. The only thing she wasn't allowed to do was be seen by patients, and that was made that much easier by the fact that the doctor created another hidden, interior office such as the one that Darcy had spent entirely too much time in. Cameras were fitted everywhere around the place, and the staff was given ear pieces into which she could whisper at any time as she watched them interact with the doctor and the clients as well as the other staff.

  Darcy had wondered just how many of the others had been getting chastised like she was, even before he began her "treatment,” but now she knew that the playing field had definitely been leveled. There had always been a rule about not rubbing after a punishment, and since no one wanted to hear "Report to my office immediately!" whispered into their ear, especially after they'd just left there; instead, they took to bitching about how their butts felt like they were going to fall off out loud, only it ended up that that wasn't any more welcome than massaging their aching bums would have been.