Doctor's Orders: The Exam

by Chloe Cox

  I look rigidly ahead, completely at war with myself. This is so beyond the pale of anything I’ve ever conceived, and yet I’m on the verge of orgasm, of release, just from this touch. And I can’t tear my eyes away from the Doctor, with his glittering eyes and his knowing smile.

  The thumb on my ass presses into my flesh, lifting my cheek, gaining access to my pussy for another hand. He smoothes the flesh of my cheeks with one hand, runs a finger the length of my slit with the other. Like he’s appreciating what’s on offer.

  Without warning he pushes a finger, maybe two, deep into me, and presses up, down, side to side, as if taking the measure of my passage, of my tightness. I open my eyes wide in shock, but manage to keep my mouth shut. The Doctor remains unmoved.

  There’s a male grunt, and then the hands disappear, leaving me swaying slightly in the air. The Doctor nods at the man that I cannot see, and then returns his gaze to mine. Suddenly I hear the slither of the cords and pulleys, and I realize my legs are being spread further, pulled up and apart even more than they were. Instinctually I try to look behind me, and when that fails again I look beseechingly at the Doctor.

  “Trust.” He says quietly.

  I’m bowed in the air now, my legs as far apart as they’ll go, still with some room to swing. I’m grateful for my natural flexibility, and then, for a brief moment, I wonder why this could possibly be necessary.

  I don’t have time to think it through before the fingers return, probing my passage. Whoever is behind me has large, meaty fingers, and he works methodically, swirling them around inside me, in and out, stretching me. I’m helpless as my body responds to his touch, leaking all over his hands. My clit is one hot, pulsating nub, my nipples ache, my ass is clenching. I don’t know if I’m allowed to cry out, to speak. I press my lips together, and tears come to my eyes as I watch the Doctor’s implacable face.

  A third finger is pushed inside me, and another mystery hand reaches around my leg to my clit and presses on it in tight, hot little circles. I can’t hold back anymore. I begin to shake, my thighs quivering in their restraints, my breasts jiggling beneath me, as my pussy clamps down on the hand inside me, hot, short little contractions that offer no release at all; as soon as they’re over I need more, want more. This has never happened before. It’s agony.

  I open my hooded eyes wide and look for pity from the Doctor. Please, I silently beg him. I want you to fuck me.

  Instead a large hand slaps my ass, and spreads my pussy lips wide, and I feel something poking at my entrance. Something huge. And I realize why my legs have been tied so far apart. I open my mouth and eyes in surprise and fear as I look at the Doctor, but he only mouths one word: trust.

  I bite my lip and nod.

  Then there are hands on my hips and I’m pulled backwards while a giant cock surges into me, all the way in one stroke, filling me and stretching me more than I thought possible. I cry out; I don’t know if it’s words, or just a squeal. I squeal. I’m pushed forward in the swing, unable to move, and then pulled back again, penetrated to the hilt by a huge, hard dick, over and over, over and over. I can hear the slapping of balls against my pussy, can feel it shudder in my clit, most of all can feel myself full of someone’s cock. The Doctor doesn’t move, only watches me get fucked like an animal, like a helpless toy. The sight of him, the feeling of being swung to and fro to some unknown’s man pleasure, drives me over the edge in record time, and I’m coming against that hot dick, milking it again and again, crying out in wordless sounds. I milk that mystery cock harder than I thought possible, but still it doesn’t stop.

  “Trust.” The Doctor says.

  I nod back at him, and realize I have tears running down my cheeks.

  The Doctor makes a motion with his hand, and the pounding I’m taking actually intensifies. My breasts jerk about as though I’m jumping on a trampoline with every thrust, and the sudden image of what I must look like, tied and spread, naked and swinging, instantly has me back on the edge. The man behind me pistons further and further into me, slamming me back into him, harder and deeper, and suddenly he’s hitting the very top of me and a wild, vibrato noise builds deep in my chest, crawling up through my throat, and when it comes out of my mouth my mind disappears in a flash of white. When the pieces come back together, there’s a sense of a hungry openness, of a cock sucked so far inside me it must hurt him, and then wave after wave of warm, wet bliss issuing from the chaos between my legs, my whole being centered there, happy and filled for the first time in memory.

  When I finally come fully to my senses, the mystery man is gone, and the Doctor is gently stroking my cheek. My whole body is achingly sensitive. I can’t talk yet, can’t fully feel my face. The Doctor walks around and tenderly wipes me down before he frees one ankle, bending my leg under me and back, getting the circulation going for me before placing my foot on the ground. Gently he does the same with the other leg, and lowers my harness before freeing my hands. I can’t stand yet, and I simply collapse into the harness, where he catches me, softly.

  He fondles my breasts, and I don’t care that it hurts, even in this debilitated state. I want his hands on me. But it only lasts a moment before he helps me up and out of my harness, and then he’s walking me over to the chair, where my clothes are in disarray. He’s silent as he helps me dress, gentle and considerate, anticipating my movements without asking me to speak. Which is just as well, since I think it will be a while before I can.

  Finally I’m clothed, presentable, no outward sign of what just happened. He touches his fingers to my chin, and my cheek, and he brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear.

  “A productive session, Claire?” He asks softly.

  I nod. It’s all I can do. But suddenly the thought is quite clear in my mind: I think I am his.

  The thought stuns me. And I don’t know what to do with it. I realize I don’t know anything about him, or his life, or whether this is the treatment that everyone gets. It nearly pains me as he walks away, back to his desk, and I have to restrain myself from ripping off my clothes again, the fabric coarse and unnatural against my skin now, from throwing my naked body on his.

  This is insane. I’m trapped in my own little insanity now, because of him. I don’t know what to do, and I’m debating what to say, how to say it, when he walks back to me. He puts a hand under my chin, and lifts my face to his, his blue eyes shining as always. I don’t know what I expect to happen, but it isn’t this.

  “Our next appointment.” He says, and flourishes another black card by my cheek. And then he grins. “I think it will surprise you.”

  THE END

  ...sort of

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thanks so much for taking a chance on the Doctor! If you want to know about my new releases as soon as they come out, you can sign up for my new releases list

  here.

  I discount prices for new works so fans can pick them up for less, and I only use that email list for new release announcements or when I give away free books. (I’ll also send you a Smashwords coupon for a free copy of my story Teacher Gets Caught (Spanking and Discipline) when you sign up, but that’s just because fans are awesome.)

  You can find the rest of Claire’s adventures with the Doctor here:

  Doctor’s Orders: The Complete Series

  EXCERPT

  I want to speak – I want him to speak to me – but the game has already started. We have our respective roles. I tug at the hem of my dress, marveling again at the deep, dark red against my very white thighs, and wait for him. I’ve never been good at sitting still and waiting. I can’t help but look around, curious. I’m drinking in the surprisingly understated interior, the leather seats, the full bar, when suddenly I see that the divider is down and there’s a flash of smiling eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s the driver, getting an eyeful.

  “Give me your leg.” The Doctor finally says.

  I hesitate for just a moment, knowing I’m visible to the driver, but I push forward. It
’s about trust, I learned the last time. I trust the Doctor, so I shift in my seat, spread my legs slightly, and hook my left leg over his right. He puts his warm hand on my exposed leg. Casually he traces the curves and hollows of my knee with his thumb, and my skin starts to come alive in his wake.

  “What is the thing that you feel most often, Claire?”

  His hand is slowly inching up my leg, each caress pushing gently further up my thigh, defining a new border, a new line that I want him to cross. I don’t know how he does this to me. Already I feel wetness leaking between my thighs. As instructed, I’m not wearing any underwear.

  “Claire, I asked you a question.” He says. I grip the leather seat with my open hand, and try to calm my breathing. I can’t help but check the rearview mirror again, and my eyes meet the driver’s. He doesn’t look away.

  “What?” My voice shakes a little.

  “As you go about your day, Claire,” the Doctor says with an air of tested patience, his hand pushing at the hem of my very short dress, “what do you feel most frequently? What is the emotion that guides you? That dominates you?”

  My eyes are locked on the driver’s. He looks away only when necessary. My head is full of the Doctor’s lightly accented voice, my body full of his touch. My nipples strain at the thin material of my dress, and I can feel my pulse everywhere.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  The Doctor slips his hand around my waist and roughly pulls me onto his lap. I put my arm around his neck, and relax into his chest. He smells...warm. I could get used to this, the feel of his arms around me, his scent. His hands. My eyes half close as his hands begin to roam over my body, one hand slipping between my legs, still toying with the hem of my dress, the other curling around my torso and palming my breast. Suddenly he squeezes my breast, pressing down on the nipple, and I moan, wriggling my ass into his leg in appreciation.

  When I open my eyes I see the driver. Watching. The Doctor must feel me tense up.

  “Claire. You do know. Tell me.”

  His hand leaves my breast and moves to my back. The sound of a zipper slowly unzipping is surprisingly loud in the rich silence of the limo, loud enough that even the driver can hear it. I know this because I see the corners of his eyes turn up in a smile.

  The front of my dress falls forward a little, barely held up by my breasts. If I breathe too deeply...

  “What do you feel right now, Claire?”

  “Besides turned on?”

  The Doctor looks directly at me for the first time, and smiles briefly. I think part of him likes my spunk, sometimes. He slides a hand further up, under my dress, and squeezes my thigh, hard. Reminding me who’s boss.

  “Yes, Claire. Besides that.”

  The eyes in the rearview are still watching me intently, barely watching the road. If there were more traffic it would be dangerous.

  “Afraid.” I say softly.

  “You feel fear?”

  “Yes.”

  His hand leaves my thigh, moves up to brush the loose strap away from my shoulder, to tease the front of my dress away. Slowly, so slowly.

  “Of what are you afraid, Claire?”

  “Being seen.” I whisper. Not low enough: I think the driver heard anyway. It doesn’t seem to deter him. His eyes stare back at me without shame.

  “Why should that frighten you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He pulls the front of my dress down in one swift motion, and my breasts burst forth, nipples already hard, skin flushed. The driver stares. I’m humiliated by my own arousal, but I can’t keep myself from pushing my breasts forward, begging for them to be touched.

  The Doctor absently toys with one nipple, then the other, before dropping his hand to my lap. He shoves past the hem of my dress this time, and finally, finally, I feel his fingers dip between my folds, idly working the length of my slit, still toying with me. My skin flushes hot, and my breath hitches as desire coils tightly around his touch. I want him so badly.

  “Of what are you afraid?” He asks again, slightly amused. I can barely focus with his fingers so close to my entrance, his palm pressing into my clit. I open my eyes to try to clear my head, and there he is again: the driver, watching in the mirror.

  The Doctor doesn’t make mistakes. None of this is an accident.

  “That he’ll think I’m a slut.” I say between panting breaths, nodding toward the front of the limo. “That I’m stupid.”

  “So?” The Doctor asks.

  He slips two fingers deep inside me, curling them as he does so. I shudder and grind my hips into him, my head dipping as I hold onto his neck. I wish I could answer him, but I can’t, and it’s not just because he’s begun working his fingers in and out, fucking me with his hand like he did last time, his palm pressing into my clit in the same rhythm.

  “Claire.” There’s a hardness to his voice, and when I don’t reply, lost deep beneath the surface, swirling around the sensation of his fingers inside me, he grips my hair, close to the scalp, and tilts my head up to look at him. “You will come for me as he watches.”

  Oh, God, I think I will...

  ~

  You can find the rest of Doctor’s Orders: The Complete Series here.

  My next release will be The Wolf’s Captive, a novel-length erotic suspense BDSM tale set in a historical fantasy world. Look for The Wolf’s Captive in August 2012, or sign up to get an email as soon as it’s live at the discounted launch price.

  Last, but not least, if you enjoyed “Doctor’s Orders: The Exam” and you choose to leave a review, shoot me an email at chloecoxwrites@gmail.com pointing me to it and I’ll add you to the list of people I send advanced review copies of stuff to (if you’re into that kind of thing).

  Thanks again! I hope you enjoyed reading “Doctor’s Orders: The Exam” as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;)

  Till the next book…

  Chloe