Doctor's Orders: A Steamy Medical Romance

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Before he turned to leave, he reached down to pat her swollen cheeks condescendingly, lying confidently, "I hope we won't have to have this conversation again, Mandi," since it was an inevitability that she would be back in this exact position—or one even more degrading—in less than two days' time, he'd bet.

  He stopped for a second to whisper something to Nurse Carson, and then he left. The door closed and locked loudly behind him as Carson moved towards Mandi. Darcy figured they were going to release the girl, get her into her clothes and send her back to work.

  But instead, Carson said, "Would you help me, please, Nurse Hanson?"

  They rearranged the bedraggled and worn Mandi, who didn't look quite as pretty and untouched as she had when she had come in—probably because she'd been touched quite a lot, so that her legs were closed, ankles bound together, and then to a hook at the bottom of the table. Her other restraints remained the same.

  "Please reapply her gag."

  It wasn't very hard to do, since, with that pronouncement, Mandi had begun to wail again, her mouth wide open. It was an easy matter to simply stuff the same roll back into her mouth, as well as the strip that had been holding it in place was right at hand.

  When Darcy saw what the other woman was doing, she realized that it was a good thing that she'd obeyed immediately.

  Nurse Carson had returned to the implement cupboard and withdrawn a cane.

  Chapter 9

  "Change the plug, Nurse Hanson. Insert the next size up."

  Darcy wanted to say something—that it was entirely too large for a neophyte, to say nothing of the idea that she was going to be inserting it while Mandi's legs were held tightly shut, which would hardly make the process any easier on either of them—but she knew better than to do that.

  The next size up didn't have the thermometer capacity, so it would nestle coyly in between the woman's plump cheeks.

  She reached for the KY, half expecting to be told to use something more painful, but the order didn't come.

  "Not too much," the other nurse chided. "It just gets messy and slippery."

  Darcy coated the big plug with a thin layer of lube, concentrating the most of it at the widest point, which she knew would be the hardest challenge, even though she knew that no one would have done the same for her. Maybe she wasn't as much of a hardened sadist as she worried she was, she thought.

  Just retrieving the old one was a process because Mandi was clamped down on it so tightly. But eventually, she worked it out of her. It should have felt good to have been relieved of such continual pressure, but Mandi knew she could hardly celebrate when what had been occupying her back door was just going to be replaced by something that was going to spread her even wider.

  Darcy knew she would never get used to seeing someone so desperate to get away from her. As she advanced towards the girl, she saw the dance begin that she did so often, herself—the futile one, the one that made her exhaust most of her energy trying to do something that was just never going to happen. And she was horrified to realize just how titillating she found it. Mandi's bottom cheeks were rounded and firm, glowing a deep, dark red that bordered on purple in most areas, and she was alternately arching and cringing and tried to swing them from side to side to get away from what she knew was coming. What she knew there was no hope of avoiding.

  That little sphincter seemed to be half the size it usually was, all closed up and pinched shut, and the nose of the plug dwarfed it. Darcy hesitated, just for a moment, as she stood behind Mandi, wondering how she was going to fit that thing up inside her and reliving, in her mind, the countless times when she had been the one who was expected to accept the impossible into her body, too.

  "Hanson!" Carson's sharp rebuke brought her back to reality. "Do as you are told this instant, or I shall tell the doctor that you are uncooperative, and you'll have the table next to your protégé within the next ten minutes."

  "Yes, ma'am," Darcy answered automatically, and she found her hand moving forward of its own volition as Mandi's cries increased with every small advancement.

  Suddenly, classical music flooded the room. Carson preferred it sometimes, usually when her victim was particularly vocal. The two of them donned headsets that amplified their conversation, but the protestations of their victim were largely drowned out.

  Carson came to stand right next to Darcy, watching her like a hawk as the widest point stretched that ring of flesh almost beyond its capacity but not quite, and then the base of the plug began to disappear inside Mandi's body. They didn't need to hear her cries die down to tell when it was firmly anchored within her; her entire body relaxed as relief set in.

  But it shouldn't have, because there was more to come. There was always more to come, Darcy could have told her.

  Nurse Carson wielded the cane with the expertise of long time familiarity. Darcy had never dared to ask where she might have come by that, figuring she might well not want to know. Perhaps she had been a governess or a teacher at a boarding school in Europe where that type of thing was still tolerated. But at least she wasn't the one who was on the receiving end this time, although her heart cringed every time it fell on those beleaguered buttocks. At first, she flinched noticeably, but she learned to control it because it drew unwanted attention from Carson.

  But her body betrayed her conscience, leaking more and more of its precious fluids, the louder Mandi's cries became.

  She became mesmerized by the crisscross pattern the older woman created on Mandi's skin, hearing the rhythmic whistle of the cane through the air, and then, as time went on, the amazingly satisfying thwack of it across cringing flesh.

  "Want to try it, Hanson?"

  Darcy didn't want to admit to herself—or anyone else—that her curiosity was piqued, and her hand itched to grab a hold of that implement, to feel the weight of it in her hand, to spread the agony around a little.

  But, as usual, if she thought she was actually being given the choice, she was mistaken. Carson forced her into position and pressed the handle into her hand, proceeding to show her how to properly administer a stroke while Mandi lay there as the canvass for both the teacher and the pupil. Nurse Carson delivered four or five strokes just in showing Darcy the correct method and then Darcy took point and Mandi didn't know how many more strokes she was going to be given by someone who had no idea what she was doing.

  She wondered if that was really going to make any difference to her, and then the first stripe fell and wrapped around the side of her hip.

  "You see what you did wrong there?" Carson asked, pointing out where the cane should never have touched.

  She gave Darcy pointers as she continued to slice that thing down onto Mandi's bottom, and it took about fifteen strokes before she got the hang of it, and then she had to endure another five or so just for practice.

  "It's like riding a bicycle, though," Carson said as she leaned the cane against the nearest wall. Darcy didn't think anything of the fact that she didn't actually put it away. "Once you know how to do it, you'll never forget."

  They got Mandi back into her uniform, although her bottom was so swollen and the material so tight that it was impossible to miss the ridges that peeped out of from under the skirt. She was understandably embarrassed to be seen like that, but neither of them was going to allow her to hide out. "Go out there and do what you're being paid for, girl," Carson said, literally shoving the poor thing out the door.

  Darcy made as if to follow her, but she was kept in place by a firm hand on her upper arm. "Now, my girl, there is a little matter of the fact that you took your sweet time obeying me during that last session. And I've not even mentioned the fact that the girl you're in charge of is a lazy doofus who can barely remember her own name, even after she's been here for several weeks. Plus, you were abominable with that cane at first. I expected better from you. You're in for it because of all of those things, I can promise you."

  The more she did to Mandi, the harder it got to have such things done
to her. It was on the tip of her tongue to argue with Nurse Carson when she would have been sure that the urge to rebel had been worked out of her, but then she thought better of the idea. She knew that she was moving ever so slowly up the food chain, but she was still the doctor's favorite play toy, and she couldn't see that Mandi Taft was going to fill her shoes in that way any time soon, so she had no choice but to change demeanors quickly, lest she make things harder on herself than they were already going to be.

  So, without making Nurse Carson ask her to, which would have added strokes and or more humiliating punishments, Darcy disrobed herself.

  Nurse Carson hadn't necessarily meant that they were going to go that route in particular, which she said out loud to Darcy, not until the girl was already standing nude in front of her. "But, since you're here, I'm sure you could do with a thorough inspection."

  And she meant very thorough. Nurse Carson had a perfunctory, detached manner that would make any young woman nervous, and she made Darcy feel as if she was a slave on the auction block who was coming up short of expectations. She was required to stand at attention while the nurse examined her from head to toe—quite literally. She ran her hands through her hair, checked her ears, nose and throat, felt the glands on the sides of her neck, checked her range of motion in her arms and legs, listened to her heart—she did the whole nine yards, tsking at the fact that she had a bit of a hammer toe on one foot and she was a bit knock kneed.

  Then she started in on the more intimate stuff even before she told Darcy to lie down, pinching, squeezing and tugging on her nipples and the rest of her breast, standing behind her and having her bend over with her legs spread, placing her hands flat on the floor while the older woman reached up into her pussy and rooted around as if she was doing something when the both of them knew that all she was doing was humiliating Darcy by handling her like she was no more than a piece of human flesh to be inspected and graded.

  And she figured she was probably flunking.

  "Will you submit yourself, or do I have to do the usual manhandling?" the nurse asked, cocking her head towards the exam table.

  The question wasn't posed with any animosity at all; it was just a neutral query.

  "No, ma'am," Darcy answered, sure she knew what was being asked.

  Darcy placed herself on the familiar table and waited to be secured to it as always, but that didn't happen. She heard and saw Nurse Carson roll herself between legs that she had automatically placed into the ever-present stirrup boots, but they had not been expanded nor fitted to her. She could remove her feet at any time.

  Hell, if she really wanted to, she could get up and walk away.

  Hating to do it, but knowing that if she didn't, it would somehow turn out badly for her, Darcy asked, "Nurse Carson, ma'am?"

  "Yes, Hanson?"

  "Uh, aren't you going to…like…restrain me?"

  The woman's gaze momentarily flickered up to her eyes, then back again to Darcy's crotch and then the table on wheels that was to one side of her. Her answer was impatiently given. "I just asked you if I needed to manhandle you and you said no." Their eyes met again, and this time they held. "Did you lie to me, Hanson?"

  "No, no, no, I didn't." She certainly didn't want her thinking that. "I just think I misinterpreted what you meant."

  "Are you saying I wasn't clear enough?"

  Darcy realized she should have known that there was no clean way out of this conversation, that she should never have asked in the first place, so she did her best attempt at patching things up before they got much, much worse for her. "No, ma'am. No. I'm saying that I was entirely at fault, but I understand now, and I'm sorry for wasting your time."

  "You will be, Hanson, you will be, I can promise you that." She had apparently finished her preparations, because she began to don gloves. "I can assure you that taking a punishment—or an intimate exam—both of which you're about to get—is an entirely different thing when you're not held down. It's much more of a challenge, to submit oneself in that way. That is what you intended, isn't it?"

  Darcy was already panting. She had no idea that this was what she had agreed to accept. How could she possibly manage to do that? She writhed and heaved and tugged as frantically as anyone else while she was being inspected or disciplined. How was she supposed to deal with the fact that there would be nothing holding her down, nothing keeping her there? Save for her own masochistic tendencies.

  She wondered if this was some ultimate test that the doctor had devised, to see just how far she'd be willing to go. And beyond that, she wondered if there would be any kind of a monetary reward for having done so, as there had been in the past for certain unusually hard trials.

  Darcy knew she wasn't going to be given very long to decide what to do, and her other very real consideration was that she had already told Nurse Carson that she was up for this. If she reneged now, there would be consequences on top of whatever it was she was already going to get.

  She knew this was going to be the hardest challenge she'd faced yet, but she felt she couldn't really get out of it. She knew she was going to regret it, but she decided that she was going to go ahead with it. It was going to kill her, in more ways than one, but she was going to do it.

  Without allowing herself to think any more about it, Darcy said, "Yes, ma'am."

  And with that, it started.

  And Darcy immediately began to regret her decision. It wasn't Tiger Balm that Nurse Carson used on her clit this time, it was something the doctor had recently found that was a step above. Not only did this solution—which was more like a paste than a balm and, thus, didn't liquefy with body heat—scorch the flesh it touched, it made it tingle, slowly at first, and then more furiously, like a body part that had gone to sleep or a vibrator that was turning itself up on its own.

  It amped up the sexual side of things quite considerably, especially for Darcy, who had always been susceptible to those things.

  Not long after the nurse had applied the paste, she heard the door to the room open and wasn't surprised to see the doctor peeping over the nurse's shoulder.

  Darcy, in the meantime, was trying to grip something—anything—in order to weather what she knew was just the beginning of her ordeal.

  "I understand there's something very interesting going on in here, and I didn't want to miss it."

  "Yes, sir. Several things. I believe this is the first time that Hanson here has had the poultice you found used on her, and she has agreed to receive both an examination and a punishment without restraint."

  It was one of the few true smiles she could ever remember seeing on the doctor's face. "Well, if she's able to do it, it will be quite an accomplishment." He looked into Darcy's eyes. "I think a suitable reward might be in order if that goal is met."

  A suitable reward could be anything, she realized, and she heartily hoped it was money. Orgasming was a very close second, though, especially at this moment.

  The doctor took over, as both of the women knew he would. Although he was likely to go harder on her, Darcy had to say she was happier with him, because there was no chance at attaining ecstasy with Nurse Carson, whereas the doctor could allow her, at his discretion.

  Things got much harder for her when she was fitted—well, not quite fitted, because, in both instances, her body was required to stretch beyond the point of discomfort—with both a vibrating dildo and a vibrating plug, which had her pussy humming something fierce, to the point where she wasn't at all sure she wasn't going to blow this by coming within the next few seconds.

  But she knew that there would be some sort of counterpoint to all of this pleasure. There had to be. It was what the doctor was all about.

  Before she knew it, she was flipped over onto her tummy and was given more than enough reason to grab desperately for something to hold on to as she heard his leather belt snick slowly through the loops.

  He teased her in more ways than one, making her wait for that first stroke, and then he nodded to Nurse Carson
and she placed a frilly white sleep mask over her eyes.

  She was blind and not nearly as helpless as she wanted to be in a situation like this—needed to be, she realized. Everything in her was screaming that she should get up and run, but she couldn't. Those buzzing tormentors between her legs kept her in place, along with a large dollop of greed. One way or other, she intended to be rewarded today, and it had gotten to the point where she didn't much care which way it was. They were both equally important to her at this moment.

  That was until it finally fell, years after she'd heard him remove it, she would have sworn, long enough for her to get lost in her own thoughts since she could no longer use the mirrors to keep track of what he was doing—that first stripe of angry red that was followed by so many more than she couldn't count—she never could, even when it was expected of her. The agonizing pain made her lose her mind and all she could do was live—barely—from moment to moment, praying that the last strip of flesh he removed from her behind was the last.

  And it almost never was, it seemed. When it did happen, she was usually made to wish it hadn't, and this time was no different from any of the others, except that she had denied herself the tiny succor that was the ties that held her fast. She never realized just how much she depended on them until they weren't there anymore.

  Her legs were spread again, but still not affixed in the stirrups. She could remove them at any time.

  It was another long while—it seemed to her—before the next phase began. The one that made her howl.

  The doctor had decided that if her legs and arms weren't restrained, then neither should her mouth be, and what he was doing to her now made him almost want to reconsider.

  Almost.

  He had procured Darcy's implement—the one she had used in a very similar fashion on Mandi. Now they'd have something more in common than they already did.

  Darcy's voice left her after the first two full lunged screams, and her throat was raw by the time the last blow fell. She figured her nether parts were just so much hamburger, until the doctor cranked up the vibration on both the dildo and the plug, creating an epic battle within her between the forces of pain and pleasure, and it was anyone's guess who was going to win.