Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella)

by Tara Crescent

  I leaned close to him. “Do you want company?” I asked him softly.

  He smiled at me. “I always want you around, Lisa,” he said quietly, and my heart stopped for a second as I absorbed the simple romance of that statement. I looked at him, and then away, suddenly shy.

  “Guys, we are out of here,” I announced instead, reaching for my wallet to toss some money on the table.

  Patrick shook his head. “Let me, it’s my turn,” he said. I rolled my eyes at him. I think I’d paid once the entire time we’d been out, and that was because he’d been on the phone when I’d settled the bill. A fight for a later time.

  “See you tomorrow?” Mandy asked me. I nodded.

  “Band practice,” I explained at Patrick’s puzzled look, and watched his expression clear. We put our coats on, and headed out, and Patrick flagged down a cab. “Remember that first night we necked in the cab?” I giggled as I slid in the back seat. I might have been a little tipsy.

  He smiled at me. “How can I forget?” he asked. “It isn’t every day a beautiful woman sends me a drink and then comes home with me.” He pulled me into his body, and his lips met mine, and I turned to him seeking his touch like I was parched for it. I moaned my desire into his mouth, and I felt the wetness seep from my pussy. Just from a kiss. From the feel of his hands on the back of my neck, pulling me towards him. From the slight tug at my hair, pulling my head back.

  “How can I be this hot for you all the time?” I groaned into his ear. He moved his hand on my lap, up my thighs, and rested it at my inside thighs. I cursed my jeans. He was so close to my aching pussy. If I had been wearing a skirt, he could have pushed his fingers into me. Made me come right there in the cab.

  With his other hand, he grasped a hold of my fingers, and pulled it over his dick. He was hard. I groaned again, and rubbed my palm against his erection, and I felt his sharp inward draw of breath. “Same way I am for you,” he grated.

  “Cab,” I muttered, giggling slightly. I felt like the horny teenager I had never had the opportunity to be. I pushed back the bitterness that that thought brought; the horrible memories from the acne still had the power to hurt.

  Thankfully, the cab pulled up at the door before I had time to get too introspective. Beer did that to me sometimes. But right now, there was a very sexy guy sitting next to me who was sporting a massive erection because we kissed. The wounds of the past didn’t matter.

  Patrick paid the cab guy, and we both got out, and he reached in his jacket for his keys.

  “Hey,” I said, as we entered his house. I’d just remembered. “I have your key.”

  He gave me an even look. “Ms. Preston,” he said. “Is there a reason we are talking about house keys right now?”

  Oh fuck. That was his Dominant voice. The one guaranteed to produce instant lust in me. I gazed at him, not hiding the arousal that glazed my eyes. “No, Dr. Anderson,” I said softly.

  He looked at me. “You sounded a bit upset earlier on the phone. Is there anything that I should be concerned about?”

  I shook my head. Right now, a haze of lust had taken over my brain, and my relationship concerns didn’t seem to belong in the moment. “Just stupid stuff,” I confessed. “I’ll tell you in the morning, I promise.”

  “Anything going on with us that will impact us playing tonight?”

  “No, Dr. Anderson.” Take me hard, Patrick. Use me for your pleasure.

  He smiled with genuine warmth as he saw the naked longing in my eyes. “I trust you’ll tell me if there’s a problem,” he said. At that, I felt a tiny trickle of guilt run through me. I’d been open and honest with Patrick as we played all but once. Once though, I’d been unwilling to use my safe word. At some point, I would have to tell him. But not now.

  “No exam room, baby, we’ve both been drinking,” he said. “But the bedroom?”

  “What would you like me to do, Dr. Anderson?” My voice was soft and compliant. My head was already close to the space where I existed only to do as Patrick told me, giving him complete control in exchange for this feeling of utter bliss.

  “I’d like you to go upstairs to my bedroom, Lisa,” he said. His voice was level and authoritative. The voice of a man who very much expected to be obeyed. “Take off your clothes, but leave your underwear on. Bend over the bed.”

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, not bothering to hide my pleased grin. Ooh. I was going to get spanked. I loved getting spanked by Patrick.

  He laughed at the expression on my face. His chuckles followed me up the stairs.

  ***

  “You asked me to spank you that first night,” he mused. His voice was both amused and remembering. He was behind me.

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure he could see me, positioned as I was, face-down, bent over the bed. “You seemed pretty happy to oblige,” I said into the bed covers. I really tried not to sound snide, but I failed miserably.

  Smack. His palm came down on my ass, my red thong serving as no protection at all from the sting. I yelped. “Sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I said contritely. That spank had hurt.

  “Much better, Lisa,” he said. “Now, I do want to spank you tonight. But I can’t decide if I want you bent over the bed, or on my lap.” I could hear his footsteps as he walked around. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his shirt fly through the air, heading towards the chair in the corner and missing it. “What do you think?”

  I wrinkled my nose, wondering what the catch was. But I had been asked a question, and so I replied. “On your lap, Dr. Anderson,” I said.

  “Hmm,” he said. “Raise your head and look at me.”

  He’d seated himself on the bed, leaning casually against the headboard. He had taken off his pants as well, and was just wearing a pair of boxers. He looked so relaxed, so effortlessly sexy that I swear I whimpered a little. “Please put me over your lap and spank me, Dr. Anderson,” I begged.

  “Did I say you could talk, Lisa?” His voice was level.

  I shook my head.

  “Because I didn’t.” There was sweet danger in each of those words. My stomach clenched with sheer arousal, and I could feel the ache between my legs. I was soaked through. I’d been wet since the cab ride and I could feel the scrap of lace stick to my pussy. I could even smell myself.

  “Crawl here,” he said. “On the bed, towards me.”

  I did as I was told, trying for a sinuous crawl, emboldened by the look of heat in his eyes.

  “Are you a good little kitten, Lisa?”

  Oh fuck. I was going to combust before he even touched me if he kept talking to me in this tone. The idea of obeying Patrick, of being his obedient pet? At this moment, it was an image of sheer eroticism.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson, I’m your good little kitten,” I whispered. I kept my eyes lowered.

  “Yes you are.” Utter male satisfaction in his voice. “How many beers did you have?”

  I strove for focus to answer his question. In the background of my mind, it registered that he didn’t know. That he hadn’t counted my drinks, trusting me to act like an adult. The few times Nick and I had gone out together, I was allowed to drink and eat if he permitted it, and it was always what he ordered. I hadn’t enjoyed being treated like a child.

  “Two and a half pints,” I answered.

  “Are you drunk?” he probed.

  “No. Slightly tipsy and very horny.”

  He laughed at that. “Ah Lisa, I love you,” he said, affection and amusement in his voice, and I blushed to hear his tone. “Tell me if this position makes you sick, and we’ll switch up, okay?”

  He pulled me onto his lap, hard, and flipped me so my head was hanging off the side of the bed on the floor. “How’s this?” That dominant edge was back in his voice, and my voice softened immediately.

  “Good, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered.

  Patrick grabbed my wrists and held them in place. “Now, Lisa. I’d like you to hold still, part your legs a little, and stay quiet. Understood?”

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nbsp; “Yes,” I said. Waves of lust crashed over my body as his hand stroked the back of my thighs, then curved around the inside and rested against my aching, soaked pussy.

  “Your panties are dripping wet, kitten,” he observed. “Only bad girls get this excited by a spanking.”

  “I’m your naughty little slut,” I said, offering him that word for him to use. I wanted to hear him say it, but tomorrow morning, I would be happy I’d said it first.

  Spank. His palm crashed down my ass. Pain radiated from the spot he’d hit me. “Yes, you are a naughty little slut, aren’t you?” I could hear the amused edge in his voice, overlaid with a ragged lust. I could feel his hard dick rest against my lower stomach.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said.

  “And what happens to sluts, Lisa?”

  Smack. Another hard blow that had me squirming in pain, and mewling quietly as the sting from his hand spread through my ass.

  “They get punished,” I groaned.

  “They do, indeed.” I heard the satisfied smirk in his voice. “I’d like you to thank me for each stroke, Lisa.”

  I groaned in utter lust and ground against his cock. Two quick, stinging smacks stopped me, and my nails dug into my palms as I processed the pain. “Thank you, Dr. Anderson,” I said obediently.

  “Too much?” he asked me quietly. I shook my head. A resounding swat of my backside followed, and I wriggled and kicked my legs.

  “Lisa.” His voice was a warning. “If you move those legs, I swear, you are going to be very, very sorry. I will tie you up and flog the living daylights out of you, do you understand?”

  Heat rushed through my body, making me limp with intense arousal at the image those words evoked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I quivered.

  “I don’t hear you thanking me.” His voice was even.

  “Sorry, thank you, thank you,” I babbled and he chuckled. “I didn’t realize I was so funny,” I said snidely in response.

  Two hard, bruising snaps of his palm, and I yelped in pain. “Thank you,” I whimpered.

  “I don’t like backtalk from my sub, Lisa.”

  I twisted my head around to look at him. He’d never called me his submissive before. We’d been playing Dom/sub games right from the first, but we hadn’t openly acknowledged the roles we assumed in play. A small smile was playing around his lips, but his eyes were serious. He just caressed my ass lightly as our gazes met, and my smile grew. His sub. Yes. I very much wanted to be both his sub and his girlfriend. It was a bit of a shock how much I wanted this, to be honest. This was a part of my life that I thought I’d locked away forever after the tragedy that had been my D/s relationship with Nick O’Malley.

  “I’m very sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I murmured, meeting his eyes openly, letting my acceptance of the role and my deep need to be submissive for him shine through. He leaned forward and kissed my hands, still held behind my back. Two resounding smacks followed, and I flailed on his lap, and wailed my thanks.

  “Keep it down,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson.” I winced. Take a hard spanking in silence. Easier said than done.

  But as his palm made steady, stinging contact with my throbbing ass, all my worries retreated to the background. Everything faded, except the way I felt lying on his lap, open and vulnerable, trusting him to give me what I needed.

  I whispered my thanks after each spank. My ass was aflame and throbbing, and I’d never felt safer or more content. Subspace. I’d only been in that blissful state once with Nick. I’d been too nervous, too on edge, too afraid to make a mistake and have his icy disapproval rain down on me. With Patrick though, it felt fitting that I reached that peaceful, floating state with him.

  At the start, I had trusted that Patrick wasn’t a serial killer when I’d come home with him from the bar. But slowly, my trust had deepened. Now, I trusted Patrick with everything. I trusted him to keep me safe, to take me all the way to the edge of what I could take, and then to pull me back to safety.

  His fingers caressed my painfully engorged clitoris, and I groaned and arched. “No coming,” he said sternly. I whined, and he reached over and wound my hair in his hand, and his grip tightened painfully. My pussy gushed, and I groaned.

  “Do I need to punish my kitten?”

  I shook my head. “No, Dr. Anderson,” I whimpered. How long was he going to make me wait?

  His hand stayed in my hair, his other hand stroked my throbbing ass, slipping between my legs and tracing the outline of my dripping slit through the panties. I stayed very still and I moaned softly. His fingers pushed the scrap of lace aside and plunged into my slit, and moved the wetness there to my puckered ass, and I clenched automatically, and regretted it when two bruising spanks followed.

  “You know, Lisa, you are making this quite difficult on yourself,” he observed. His tone was hard. I’d never heard him sound more in charge, and it was a massive turn-on.

  One finger slid into my ass, pushing in as I willed each muscle to relaxation. “I think I’ll take your ass tonight, kitten,” he said.

  I winced. Last night, I’d been fucked by twin dildos in my pussy and ass. I was going to be so sore. But I found I really wanted it. I wanted to feel thoroughly fucked by Patrick. Tomorrow, I wanted to feel every ache as a gift from him.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, from my position leaning over the side of the bed. “Please…” In my tone was stark, naked longing to be so overwhelmed with lust that I felt almost as if I were drowning.

  His thumb hooked into my ass, and two fingers thrust into my pussy. My clitoris felt painfully neglected, and I groaned and whimpered a plea for him to touch me. A hard spank followed.

  “Do not tell me how to touch you, Lisa,” he warned. His hands left my body, and I almost cried. But my torment was brief; his hands were on my waist, lifting me up and positioning me on the bed on my hands and knees. I kicked off my panties, and he chuckled. I still had my bra on, and the fact that I was partially clothed made this feel even more sinful.

  Patrick reached over the side table to grab some lube, and I could feel him trickle it on my ass. Then I felt the head of his cock at my puckered opening, and I sighed with mingled pleasure and slight fear as I waited for him to take me. I stayed still in anticipation. His hands stroked my flaming ass cheeks, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Push back against me, Lisa.”

  I bit my lip and complied, forcing myself past that slight burn as his head stretched my tight ass. His hands were on my hips, and I groaned as his body came in contact with my stinging butt.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Fuck yes,” I hissed. “Please, Patrick, fuck me. Please don’t make me wait.”

  He growled and slammed into me. I screamed, and he smacked my ass in displeasure. “If you can’t keep it down, I’m going to have to gag you, Lisa,” he chided. I felt him flick my panties towards me. “Wad them up and put them in your mouth.”

  Oh fuck. This skirted on embarrassment and humiliation, and I was dripping wet in response. I moved one hand and breathed in the damp crotch of the panties, and I heard him chuckle. “In your mouth, kitten,” he said warmly. Ah, but his warmth felt good. He created a safe space for me to be whoever I wanted to be. Nothing I wanted would be held against me; I would not be judged for my desires. It was an incredible aphrodisiac.

  I pushed the panties in my mouth, and he pounded into me in response. I whimpered into my gag and arched my hips towards him. It was fast and a little painful and so very pleasurable. His fingers raked my flaming ass as he thrust, and my skin was hot and oh-so-sensitive. His thumbs grazed at my clitoris, keeping me at the very edge of desire, but refusing yet to let me fall into my orgasm. I whimpered and pushed and moaned, and he thrust into me steadily in response.

  “Please,” I tried begging through the gag. The words came out as indecipherable grunting. I was almost sobbing in desperation as I arched, so close to release. One firm circling stroke on my clitoris; that was all it would take. />
  Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore; just when I was so close to the edge that everything was just painful longing, he finally strummed my clitoris firmly with his fingers, and increased the pace of his thrusts. I heard him groan as he released, and I was so close behind him, our orgasms might have blended into one.

  I slumped on the bed, and I felt him pull out. “You okay?” he asked me, his hands reaching to remove the panties from my mouth and I nodded, unable to form words. My limbs were limp, my brain was mush, and I felt utterly, thoroughly fucked. It was an incredible feeling.

  He walked away towards the bathroom, and I heard the sound of water running, and then he came back to bed and slid next to me. I unhooked my bra and tossed it across the room, then I curled up around him, lying on my side, my head resting on his shoulder, my leg twined with his.

  “Not too much?” he asked me with slight concern.

  I shook my head. “If you’d done that to me the first day, I would have run,” I said. “But I trust you. That was incredible.”

  He kissed my forehead. “What about calling you my sub?”

  I looked into his eyes. This was important, and I wanted to see his face as I spoke. “I haven’t wanted anyone to call me that in a really long time,” I started. Twelve years since Nick O’Malley drove a plow truck through that particular desire. “But I’m ready. I want this.”

  He smiled at me. “You will always be my girlfriend first,” he said. “I have my own issues about this after Andrea. But I trust you to play safely with me. I trust you to tell me to stop if you need me to. I trust you to be responsible for yourself. Knowing all that, I find I really want this too.”

  I trust you to tell me to stop if I need to. The words were like nails scratching on a blackboard. Because once, the night my mother had been taken to the hospital, and Patrick had been there for me when I needed him most, I had violated his trust. I hadn’t thought it through then. But that night, I wouldn’t have used my safe word. The guilt from that day was already eating away at me. At some point, it would bubble to a point where I’d have to tell him.