Doctor's Orders

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘So you’ve figured him out at last,’ Duncan replied. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m fond of the guy. But he’s got a propensity to use people, and he can be pretty selfish about his own needs, leaving little consideration for others.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ she agreed, eyeing the enticing bulge at his crotch, wanting to forget completely about Max and his stupid present. ‘If you’re so keen to know what’s inside, then open it yourself.’

  ‘I was always like this about presents. I remember being so excited at Christmas, when I was a kid,’ he said, grinning. ‘There’s something exciting about not knowing what’s inside,’ he added, picking up the package and shaking it.

  As Duncan stripped off the stiff gold paper, Helen concentrated her attentions on unbuttoning his shirt, far more interested in unwrapping this male package than the one sent by Max.

  Opening the box, Duncan pulled out small silver clips from which dangled delicate filigree flowers. ‘Earrings?’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s odd, Max knows I rarely wear them.’

  ‘Not earrings.’ Duncan gave a throaty chuckle. ‘I know Max all too well – these are far more his style. They are nipple clamps, my sweet.’

  ‘Nipple clamps!’ Helen recalled Max’s promise to her before he’d left, and her stomach contracted with nervous excitement as she stared at the surprisingly pretty objects. ‘I’ve never seen any before.’

  ‘What an innocent you are,’ Duncan teased, bending forwards to concentrate his attentions on her left nipple, rubbing it and squeezing it into a firm peak. ‘Let’s try one for size.’ He pulled the tender flesh, stretching the teat, then fastened the clamp at its base.

  Helen squeaked with surprise. It was the strangest of sensations; slightly uncomfortable, yet deliciously titillating, all at the same time.

  The clamps were cleverly fashioned, designed to compress the nipple just enough, so that the wearer eventually reached the plateau where pleasure and pain intertwined. By now Duncan had imprisoned both her nipples in the decorative clamps and, as Helen moved, the delicate silver flowers brushed gently against her breasts.

  ‘They feel strange,’ she said. Judging by the way Duncan was looking at her, he found the decorations highly stimulating.

  ‘I happen to know that Max frequents this particular jeweller quite often. He once told me that the guy makes clit clamps as well. They are cute little things, designed purely to keep a woman in a constant state of arousal.’

  Helen couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like – the pulling sensation, the ever-present pressure. ‘I don’t think I could handle that. I’d never be able to concentrate on my work,’ she admitted with an uneasy laugh. ‘The thought is extremely titillating, but don’t you think that’s carrying things a bit too far?’

  ‘Depends what turns you on, I suppose. Every person is different.’ He flicked the filigree flowers, and the slight movement sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through her nipples and down her spine. Not surprisingly the sensations made her pussy grow wetter than ever.

  ‘Looking at you naked turns me on,’ she said, easing off his shirt. ‘The sight of your muscular chest is very stimulating. Who needs sex toys, when I have you around?’

  ‘Kind of you to say so,’ Duncan replied, sighing softly as she splayed her hands across his pecs, pinching his small flat nipples. ‘It doesn’t take much to please you then, does it?’

  ‘I did say naked,’ Helen reminded him. ‘So take your trousers off as well,’ she added, taking hold of the zip of his flies, and sliding it downwards, finding that every movement she made served to increase the pressure on her restrained teats.

  Duncan needed no more prompting to slip off his trousers, and to her delight she discovered he’d not bothered with underwear. His cock was already rigid, rearing away from his flat belly. It looked so delicious she had to kiss it. Bending forwards, she tenderly mouthed the domed head, running her tongue round the edge of the glans. ‘That feels good,’ Duncan groaned, shuddering with bliss.

  She ran her fingers slowly down the impressive shaft. ‘I know a guy who’s had his penis implanted with a line of silver balls. Do you fancy that, Duncan?’

  ‘About as much as you fancy a clit clamp, I reckon,’ he replied, with wry amusement. ‘Some folks are way too keen on body piercing for my restrained tastes, although it’s all the rage at present. Some of my close friends have opted for a neat Prince Albert, but even the thought of having a ring through the end of my dick sends shivers down my spine.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be the great macho hero,’ she teased. ‘You’re not supposed to be afraid of anything.’

  ‘We could come to an agreement,’ he suggested with a wicked grin. ‘You have your clit pierced, just here –’ he demonstrated by gently squeezing the root of the sensitive peak ‘– with a neat gold ring, and I’ll consider a Prince Albert.’

  ‘I think I’ll take a rain-check on that too,’ she said, running her hands upwards to tenderly caress his muscular stomach and chest.

  ‘Well, what about a cast of my penis?’ he suggested, his fingers continuing to tantalisingly stroke her pussy, feeling it grow wetter as her juices flowed.

  ‘To use when I’m alone in bed?’

  ‘Yeah. I could have it made up in latex, even have a vibrator inserted in the middle if you like. A good friend of mine keeps a cast of his dick on the mantelpiece in his rumpus room, along with casts of his girlfriends’ pussies. He’s managed to build up quite a collection.’

  ‘I think I prefer the feel of your fingers to plaster of Paris,’ she gasped as he continued to play with her clit.

  ‘Why not my mouth?’ he ran the tip of his tongue over the ends of each compressed nipple, anointing the teats with his saliva. ‘Or my cock?’

  ‘Both. Either. I don’t care.’ The tight-fitting clamps magnified the sensitivity of each nipple, and even the gentle brushing motion made them tingle with delight.

  Helen groaned as Duncan pulled one throbbing teat into his mouth, sucking on it, his teeth grazing the hard metal. He slid his fingers inside her, making her wriggle and squirm with pleasure as they ventured even deeper. ‘Ask me,’ he urged. ‘Beg me to fuck you.’

  ‘Please,’ she gasped, moving her hips with desperate urgency, wanting his finger to be replaced by the hardness of his cock. ‘Fuck me now, Duncan.’

  He moved to kneel between her open thighs, his powerful body looming over her. This magnificent man was just about to fuck her and she recognised one of the primary scenes in her own favourite fantasy. She had run it so many times in her mind that the reality of it now seemed somehow surreal, as if this were all still part of an erotic dream. Yet when Duncan thrust his cock deep into the aching emptiness of her sex, the blissful sensations were as real as real could be.

  He tilted his hips, altering his angle of penetration, ensuring each loving thrust would further stimulate her clit. Then, never taking his eyes off her face, he began to move, settling into a smooth unrelenting rhythm. He fucked her so exquisitely that the pressure in her groin grew, mingling with the tortured bliss that assailed her breasts. Helen’s pleasure magnified, merging into a sensation so strong that when her climax came it was the best she’d ever known.

  Once again it was very late when Helen left Duncan. There had been no point in even attempting to repair her dress, so she’d left it with Duncan and just wore her white coat, tightly buttoned, with only her brief panties underneath. She felt sated and replete, her pussy aching pleasantly, as she walked along the deserted hospital corridors. Duncan had removed the clamps, but her breasts still felt engorged, and her nipples ached almost as if they were still confined. Tonight she had reached the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure, a sensation so complete she’d never achieved it with anyone else before.

  Helen’s medical training told her that sexual attraction hinged on a number of things – a physically appealing partner, pheromones, and most importantly what went on in the mind. The brain sent messages to the sens
es, sometimes turning pure lust into an emotion that was radically different and far more complex. She was intensely attracted to Duncan, but her desire for him was pure body chemistry, nothing else; she barely knew him as an individual. He was her ideal man in fantasy, if not in fact.

  Perhaps one of these days she’d set herself the task of writing a theses on why people were attracted to one another. Of course she would need to do a massive amount of physical research, the thought of which titillated her. However, at present all her thoughts and needs were focused on Duncan Paul. She had a few days yet before he was due to leave the hospital, and she planned to put that time to good use, and forget about the future for now.

  Helen knew that she would soon have to think about contacting Max to break off their relationship. She still hadn’t decided if she would go and work in the States, which might be a good idea, as she would gain valuable experience there. Nevertheless, she had no intention now of working for Max when she got to America; she was not going to allow herself to get into the position where he had control over her life ever again.

  This evening Helen had let herself forget about Ralph and his mysterious patient. She didn’t even bother to attempt to return home via the annex, she just walked towards the main staircase and lifts. Her thoughts were on personal matters and she noticed very little. It didn’t even strike her as odd that the corridor leading to the theatre suites was still brightly lit. Usually at night it was in pitch dark and the theatres were locked.

  Helen probably wouldn’t even have stopped to look, if she hadn’t caught a brief glimpse, through the glass doors, of a man who looked just like Ralph. The man was wearing a green operating gown, and on closer examination it was definitely Ralph. He was just leaving the post-op recovery room; patients were kept there for some time after surgery, before being taken back to their rooms.

  Ralph had lied, when she had spoken to him only a few hours ago. She could only presume he did have something to hide and his patient tonight was the mysterious Mr X. Then she saw Ben Taylor, wearing a white coat over his green scrubs, accompanying the patient out of post-op recovery.

  The patient was lying prone on the trolley. She couldn’t see who he was as his face was totally swathed in bandages, even his eyes were covered. Judging by the drips and drains that surrounded him, the surgery had been very extensive. Helen found that strange, because she knew that Ralph did not like carrying out more than one procedure at the same time – it was one of his idiosyncrasies. It was not his style to do such obviously extensive reconstruction work during one operation.

  Not wanting to be seen, Helen looked round for a hiding place. The only refuge in sight was an unlocked linen closet. She slipped inside, pulling the door shut, leaving just a crack to peep through as she watched Ralph, Ben and the patient walk past her. It wasn’t a regular porter pushing the trolley; it was one of the burly bodyguards dressed in a Princess Beatrice uniform.

  Helen was now even more determined to discover what was actually going on around there, as well as the patient’s true identity. Routine procedures were not done in the dead of night and patients were not hidden away from hospital staff.

  She waited until everyone had disappeared from sight, then left the sanctuary of the linen cupboard and made her way down to the ground floor. As she walked back to her apartment, Helen’s thoughts were in turmoil. She had to speak to someone about this and the only person she could chance trusting was Duncan. Helen decided that she would confide in him first thing in the morning.

  When she reached the staff apartment block, she was surprised to hear a lot of noise coming from Sandra’s flat. It sounded as though she was having a party, and the music and laughter were very loud considering it was late. Helen couldn’t help wondering what was going on inside and she unconsciously slowed her pace as she walked past Sandra’s front door.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ Ben’s voice called from a distance. Helen jumped nervously and turned to watch him striding towards her, breathing heavily as if he had been running to catch up with her.

  ‘Just to bed,’ she replied trying to sound composed. ‘Have you been operating?’ she asked, eyeing his scrubs.

  ‘Goodness, no,’ Ben lied smoothly. ‘I spilled some ether on my clothes. The smell was so bad I had to change and this was all the night nurse could come up with.’

  ‘You couldn’t exactly walk about the place in your underwear,’ she said lightly, conscious of how little she had on under her white coat.

  ‘No.’ he smiled. ‘Do you know, Helen, I get the feeling you’re avoiding me.’

  ‘Whatever made you think that?’ she replied, trying to sound surprised.

  ‘Was it what happened in the pool?’ he asked, taking hold of her arm. ‘Did Justin and I upset you? You ran off pretty quickly.’

  ‘You were so busy, I’m surprised you noticed,’ she countered dryly.

  ‘Are you jealous?

  ‘Of course I’m not jealous. I don’t own you, Ben, and I wouldn’t want to. What you choose to do with Justin is none of my business,’ she said stiffly, suddenly unable to get the erotic vision of the two men together out of her mind.

  ‘I could respond by saying I’m a tad jealous of your liaison with Duncan Paul,’ Ben replied. ‘Are you fucking him, perchance?’

  She felt as though her cheeks had gone suddenly red, although she hoped they hadn’t. ‘Duncan and I share a mutual friend, that’s why I’m visiting him.’

  ‘You mean Max Fenton? Duncan is his cousin, so I’m reliably informed.’

  She nodded. ‘As you may know, Max and I worked together and –’

  ‘You and he were lovers,’ Ben interjected. ‘Don’t bother denying it. Sandra saw him arse-fucking you in maternity the first day you arrived.’

  ‘Can’t anyone have any privacy around here,’ she complained indignantly, embarrassed by the thought that they had been spied on that afternoon.

  ‘Sandra knows everything that goes on in this hospital, haven’t you realised that yet?’ Ben’s expression became serious. ‘Look, Helen, something’s worrying me, and I think we should talk.’

  ‘Talk about what, my sex life?’

  ‘You know damn well I don’t mean that,’ he said. ‘You’re no fool, Helen. I’m certain that you’ve figured out there are some pretty heavy things going down here.’

  ‘What do you mean by heavy?’ she asked, knowing she had to proceed very cautiously. She didn’t want to let on that she knew anything, but she was secretly hoping that Ben might be planning to confide in her. She was also aware that he was close to Sandra and Justin, as well as being up to his neck in most things that went on around there, including the tissue of lies surrounding tonight’s operation. She had no idea why he was even attempting to speak to her now, and she knew she couldn’t chance trusting him. Yet she still liked Ben, despite everything. She could be coming to totally the wrong conclusion, but she did pause to wonder if he was now regretting getting so involved in all the intrigue.

  ‘We can’t talk here, that’s for certain.’ Ben glanced up and down the corridor a little nervously as if concerned about being seen with her. ‘Let’s go inside, join the party.’

  ‘If you want to speak about private matters, then surely it’s a pretty silly place to go. We won’t get any privacy, judging by the noise, and someone is bound to overhear anything you tell me,’ she pointed out.

  ‘It’s a party, Helen. No one will be interested in us, they’ll be too intent on getting drunk and enjoying themselves.’

  Helen frowned. There was logic to his argument. If they didn’t go to Sandra’s she would have to invite Ben up to her apartment. Frankly she had no wish to be completely alone with him. At least in Sandra’s flat there would be other people around. Nevertheless, she knew she couldn’t let herself believe anything he told her – but there was a chance she might be able to gamer at least a smattering of the truth from the conversation. Ben might let something drop, something minor that might help her put two and two to
gether.

  ‘I’ll come,’ she agreed. ‘But I can’t stay long.’

  ‘This won’t take that long, I promise,’ he said, smiling in relief.

  He pushed open Sandra’s front door, and walked inside. Feeling nervous, and very reluctant, Helen followed him. The noise of music, talking and laughter grew considerably louder, and the whole place looked to be in semi-darkness. They went into the kitchen, which was brightly lit and devoid of partygoers. It was filled with mess and clutter, including lots of bottles of various drinks, half-empty glasses, overflowing ashtrays, spilled beer on the floor and piles of used crockery in the sink.

  ‘Now, what did you want to tell me?’ Helen turned, standing with her back to the kitchen table, as Ben leaned casually against a cluttered worktop.

  ‘Ben wants to tell you that you shouldn’t be pushing your pretty little nose into things that don’t concern you,’ Justin announced as he strolled into the kitchen, the sound of his voice making Helen stiffen nervously. He was wearing only a pair of tight-fitting leather trousers that amply served to emphasise the considerable bulge at his crotch.

  ‘What things that don’t concern me?’ Helen sounded far bolder than she actually felt. She was tempted to try and make a run for it, but Justin was between her and the only door, and there was no other way of escape. Where Ben was concerned, she’d let her misguided emotions take precedent over her judgement. He wasn’t Mr Nice Guy, of that she was certain: he’d set her up. All she could do now was pretend she didn’t feel threatened or scared and try and brazen this out.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about,’ Justin sneered scathingly.

  ‘I am a doctor at this hospital. The board therefore entrusted me with a certain amount of responsibility towards staff and patients,’ she said, presuming he was referring to her efforts to gain entry to the annex. ‘I have every right to know all that is going on around here,’ she added, trying to hide her fearful apprehension as Justin moved closer. She felt like a rat in a trap.