Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series

by Tara Crescent

  “I’d love to hang out, spend the day with you, but I have to go into work, I just got a call,” Patrick said. There was real regret in his voice. “But I’d really like to see you again. Can we go out for dinner sometime this week? Please?”

  Okay, I guess I was surprised. He should have been either judging me for jumping into the bed of a stranger, or judging me because of the spanking, but it appeared he was doing neither. I met his eyes; there was faint puzzlement in mine, as I tried to figure Patrick out. But underneath all of that, pleasure was blossoming in me.

  “Dinner sounds really good,” I said.

  “Perfect.” He handed me a card; a copy of the one from last night. This one had a hand-written number scribbled on it. “That’s my cell phone, always on, unless I’m in surgery. Would Wednesday night work?”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what I was doing on Wednesday night, but if it meant glorious sex like we’d had last night, I was going to cancel whatever was in place already, and go out to dinner with Patrick.

  I gave him my number and address, we agreed that he’d pick me up at my place on Wednesday, and he drove me home on his way to work.

  ***

  I spent every evening until my date with Patrick whipping my condo into shape. I’d moved in a few months ago, but there had been an explosion of work, and I’d had no time to unpack, to shop for groceries, to make my house looked lived-in.

  I called in my crew and promised them double-overtime and a hot meal, and, in a frantic burst of activity, the condo got ready. Walls were painted; furniture assembled, pictures hung. I stocked the refrigerator with cheese, fruit and chocolate; beer and wine. Sex food.

  Every single one of the guys was dying of curiosity about my sudden burst of activity; I could tell. After all, I’d been content to weave my way among cardboard boxes for the last three months, and they were intensely interested in finding out what had changed all of a sudden.

  I blushed under their onslaught of questions. “Fine, I met a guy…” I mumbled finally, and had to listen to their teasing for the entire meal. But it was worth it; my place looked amazing. I could bring Patrick back here after our date, and not be mortified at the condition it was in.

  ***

  Patrick:

  So I couldn’t stop thinking about her little medical fantasy. But I sensed she was a little embarrassed by it all in the light of day. Instead, I asked her out to dinner, and inwardly rejoiced when she said yes.

  ***

  All week, I couldn’t look at an examination table that week without picturing Lisa strapped down on it, legs spread, pussy glistening, begging me to thrust my cock into her.

  In an effort to keep my sanity, I jumped into research and shopping mode.

  First – research. I couldn’t bring about her fantasy in the hospital; too many cameras, too many people, and I wasn’t about to ruin my career for this.

  I also had a private practice that I shared with a small team of doctors. I thought about that scenario, and rejected it as well, for many of the same reasons.

  Evidently, I was going to set up an examination room in my house, sacrificing the guest bedroom to the cause.

  I couldn’t have been happier to tear my house apart.

  This woman was in my blood; the feel of her on my fingers, the sound of her moans ever-present in my ears. One night with her, and she’d driven me insane, and if she wanted this fantasy, I was going to make it real for her.

  Things wouldn’t be ready by Wednesday, but everything should be in place by Saturday. I started shopping, wincing a little as the tab mounted. This was going to be the most expensive third date of my life. My cock stirred as I thought about how I would tie her down on the table, how the straps would accentuate those beautiful breasts. Oh, but it was going to be so very, very good.

  Chapter 6

  Lisa:

  When I had gone home with Patrick the other day, he had been a total stranger; I didn’t know him at all. On Wednesday, that changed; we had dinner together, and it was lovely.

  I sort of expected he’d take me somewhere fancy but boring – he did live in Rosedale, which was pretty old-money Toronto. But he didn’t, we headed to a cosy neighbourhood bar with dim lighting and a menu scrawled in chalk on the wall.

  “They have amazing curry here, and not much else,” Patrick said, smiling at me. “So, I hope curry is okay.”

  “Curry is brilliant,” I said honestly, trying to choose between the butter chicken and the fish. “What do you get normally?” I asked.

  “The beef,” he said promptly. “Crazy spicy though.”

  I ordered the chicken; he stuck to the beef. We grabbed our beers at the bar, and headed to a secluded corner. We chatted about this and that; our jobs, interests, the best vacations we’d taken, our favourite movies. It was all very first-date. If you could ignore the fact that the last time we’d met, he’d put me over his knee and spanked me soundly, and I told him I wanted him to play naughty doctor with me.

  The topic did come around to sex, of course.

  “Tell me about the spanking thing…” he said.

  “What do you want to know?” I countered.

  “Are you submissive, or do you like being spanked?”

  His question was pretty perceptive, more perceptive than it should have been. I shrugged my shoulders. “A little of both, I think,” I said. I thought about it, elaborated. “I’m not submissive in everyday life; and I’m not submissive with everyone I sleep with. But sometimes, there’s something in the timbre of the sex, something about the guy, maybe, or something about me, and I suddenly want to cede control; to let the other person do with me what they will…” My voice trailed off, as my mind conjured images of what Patrick had done with me when I ceded control. About the way he’d grabbed my hair in his hands, shoving his cock in and out of my throat.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  He shrugged as well. “I’m not into any lifestyle stuff,” he said. “No dungeon at home, no whips and chains, nothing like that...” He sipped his beer, and I sipped mine. “But sometimes, when a beautiful woman cedes control,” he paused, raised his glass to me. “At times like these, it’s hard not to take advantage of the situation.”

  “You’ve done it before though; that couldn’t be the first time you’ve spanked someone,” I said, probing.

  He laughed. “No, not the first time. Spanking is a pretty common kink, and I’m always happy to oblige.”

  I got the feeling he was holding something back, and I would have probed, but he changed the topic just then.

  “So the doctor thing…” he started.

  I went beet-red. “I’m never drinking vodka again,” I said, mortified. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s really weird, I know,”

  He held up his hand, interrupting what I was going to say, and handed me a piece of paper. I glanced down. It was one of those blank forms they give you at the doctor’s office to remind you when your next appointment is. It was filled out; my next appointment was with Dr. Patrick Anderson, on Saturday, for a full physical.

  I looked at him, still beet-red. He smiled at me. “You don’t have to do it, of course,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “But if you do want to explore that fantasy, perhaps you should keep your doctor’s appointment?”

  Chapter 7

  Patrick:

  It was Saturday, and she was there at my door, and I could feel the joy rise in me. She’d told me the broad outline of what turned her on, and some of it was a bit outside my comfort zone, but I was determined to help her realize her fantasy.

  I’d only seen Lisa twice; I barely knew her at all. But she was funny and easy to talk to, she was honest about her desires, she was open and giving in bed. There was a straightforwardness to her that I really liked. She was pretty awesome.

  Before we got into it though, I looked at her. “Say stop, at any time, and we’ll stop,” I said. “Okay?”

  Lisa smiled at me, her smile radiant, and she looked like the brightest d
ay of summer. “Thank you, Patrick,” she said.

  I laughed. “You might not thank me at the end of the session,” I said. It was a real fear. Sometimes, fantasies were meant to remain fantasies. I hoped this wasn’t one of them; I hoped she wouldn’t hate me afterwards. But I’d spent all week, and an absolutely insane amount of money on this, and I was in.

  I straightened. It was about to begin. I looked at Lisa, and nodded. We were now in the game.

  ***

  “Take off your clothes, Miss Preston, and change into this gown.” I kept my voice curt, professional.

  The woman in front of me squirmed a little, but her voice, when it came out, was soft, compliant. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” she said.

  I left her alone in the examination room to give her a few moments to change. Outside the room, I mentally reviewed my plans, the pleasurable tortures I was going to put this woman through, the many ways I was going to tie her down and take her. My cock hardened as I thought about Lisa, helpless to resist, as I worked and stretched her body in ways she’d never experienced.

  A deep sigh; an inward resolve to do this; to give her this moment. And then, I knocked on the door of the examination room, and went in.

  ***

  Lisa:

  It was a real examination room. There was an examination table, with stirrups mounted on it. There was a little sink on one side, with a water cooler in a corner. There was the hazardous-warning trash can. There was the steel desk; the swivel chair. There was a little side table by the examination table, for the doctor’s instruments.

  I gulped. Either he saw patients here, which I doubted, since he was a surgeon, or he’d put this together to fulfil my fantasy.

  “Heck of a third date, Dr. Anderson,” I muttered under my breath. But I was more than impressed; I was seriously touched. This was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for me.

  A knock on the door. I shook my head; we were playing a game, one I’d asked for, and one he’d put a ton of effort into. I needed to keep my head in it; stay in character.

  I straightened. I was Lisa Preston; I was in a doctor’s office, and I was about to get a very thorough physical.

  “Please come in, Dr. Anderson,” I called out.

  ***

  Patrick:

  I’d actually just stolen a robe from the hospital. I could have bought a new one, but some of the robes at the hospital had been washed so many times, they were almost see-through. I found one of these, and claimed it for my scene.

  She’d changed into it, and wow. As I had hoped, she was naked under the gown, and I could see the dark outline of her nipples, the dark patch of her neatly trimmed pussy. Lust rose in me, fierce and hot, but I pushed it down ruthlessly. First, her fantasy.

  ***

  Lisa:

  He looked amazing. He was wearing a hospital coat, the typical white one; a label sewn on the pocket with his name on it. Around his neck, a stethoscope. In his hands, a clipboard.

  He smiled at me. “You are a new patient, correct, Miss Preston?”

  “Yes, Doctor,” I mumbled.

  “And I see, from your notes here, that you haven’t had a full examination in over five years.”

  I winced. His tone had a mild rebuke in it. “Yeah, sorry Doctor.”

  “It’s important to take good care of your health, young lady,” he said, his tone hard. Oh, that tone. His voice had a direct line to my pussy, and when he took on that tone; firm, dominant, my pussy just clenched and gushed in response. I bit my lip.

  “Unfortunately,” he continued in the same hard tone, “this means that your exam will be longer today, as I have to check more things, make sure everything’s in order.”

  I nodded. “I understand, Doctor,” I said softly.

  I’d never role-played before. I’d always wondered if I’d feel silly, if it would feel contrived. But maybe that depended on who I was playing with. Patrick had an air of effortless command, he was very much in character, and I responded to him, his dominance causing submissiveness in me.

  “First, the basics, height and weight,” he said, and this time, there was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. Oh, the jerk. He was now going to know how much I weighed. I flushed beet red. I could stay in character, or I could not step on the scale.

  I stepped on the scale, feeling utterly naked as I moved in my mostly backless, see-through hospital gown. The cool air hit my nipples, causing them to perk up. Patrick just grinned.

  “One hundred and twelve pounds,” he said, making a notation on his clipboard. I flushed beet-red.

  “Height, please, stand against this chart,” he pointed to the markings at the door. Oh, he had been very, very thorough.

  I stood against the chart, my face still flushed. My naked bottom made contact with the door, and I felt very, very exposed. He came up to me, put his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me up against the door. This close to him, I could feel the heat in his body, I could smell the woodsy smell of his aftershave, and I could almost feel his hard body against mine.

  “He’s your doctor,” I thought to myself, fully embracing the role. “Get a grip, Lisa.”

  He pushed me back on the chart. “You need to stand straight, Miss Preston,” he said firmly. “No slouching, head up, look straight ahead.”

  His hand brushed against my nipple as he reached for the clipboard. Accidentally? Heat rose within me as I looked straight ahead, waited for him to write down my height on the clipboard, before I moved.

  “Five feet, four inches.” His voice was professional. “Ok, let’s get going, please sit on the stool.”

  The stool he indicated was stainless steel. I sat on it, my naked bottom making contact with the cool surface, and I squirmed a bit at the cold.

  His lips twitched as he watched me. There was laughter in his eyes; a warmth that made me feel cherished, even as he went about making one of my dark fantasies come true.

  “Ready, Miss Preston?” he asked me.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I replied. Every time I called him Dr. Anderson, there was a clenching of my muscles, a twitch of lust. My pussy was soaked through; I could feel the moisture trickle out; leak on the stool below. I flushed beet-red; the telltale spot of wetness would be visible when I got up from the stool. He was going to see how aroused I was.

  He moved next to me, almost straddling me. The way he stood, his lab coat had swung aside, and his erection was clearly visible, and almost at my mouth. I licked my lips; I couldn’t help myself. I heard him chuckle briefly.

  “The stethoscope works best against bare skin, Miss Preston,” he said. I nodded, flushed, reached up behind my back to remove the tie holding the gown together. My breasts lifted as my hands reached behind my back; he was standing so close to me that they pressed up against his groin. I untied the tie holding the gown in place; the gown fell to my waist, and my naked breasts were exposed; and to my chagrin, my nipples were already erect.

  I heard him take a deep breath, and then he bent down, and pressed the stethoscope against my chest, perhaps a little closer to my breasts than was appropriate. His fingers brushed my nipple as he held the stethoscope against me, and my nipple hardened further, swelling even more under his touch.

  My fantasy always started the same way. I’d be in a doctor’s office; he’d be conducting an examination, and then, slowly, he’d take greater and greater liberties with me. First, he’d stand so close to me so that I was slightly uncomfortable, but yet unsure if I was just being paranoid. Then, he’d graze my nipples accidentally, and I’d be confused about whether I should protest or not. Finally, he’d do something that would make his intentions clear; that he wanted me, and he was going to have me, and there would be nothing I could do about it.

  As Patrick brushed his hand against my nipple, there was nothing I wanted more than for him to keep going; to keep touching me.

  He moved behind me, his erection brushing against my cheek as he moved. I flushed; my mouth half-opened; I wanted him to put his
dick down my throat; to use me hard, without consideration for my pleasure. My pussy gushed as it responded to that thought.

  The stethoscope was cold at my back; but his hand was pressed on my shoulder, keeping me steady. “Stay still, Miss Preston,” he chided.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I muttered. My brain was enveloped in a haze of lust; my pussy clenching; my insides churning with longing.

  He straightened; came around, looked at me. There was heat in his eyes, but his tone was even. “Very good, Miss Preston, let’s get going to the next bit; I’m going to need you on the examination table.”

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said obediently, getting up. I hadn’t been paying attention to my untied robe, and as I rose, it slid down, untethered, to my feet. I went scarlet in embarrassment, and kept my eyes lowered. I was mortified.

  “I see naked bodies every day, Miss Preston.” His voice was laughing. “But,” he added, his voice hard, as I moved away from the stool, towards the examination table, “it seems that we have a problem.”

  He was looking at the wet spot on the stool. I went beet-red again. “I’m sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I mumbled. My voice was very soft.

  “Apologies are easy, Miss Preston,” he said, his voice even, “but you need to fix this mess, please.”

  I looked around for paper towels; found none. Surprised and slightly shocked, I looked at him. There was open lust in his eyes, and there was warmth and laughter too.

  “Of course, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered, lowering my face to the stool, bringing my tongue out to lick my juices clean from the table, as he had intended.

  Was I embarrassed? A little bit. Humiliated? Not really. I had looked in his eyes, and he was clearly loving this, but the warmth and laughter in his gaze also made me feel respected. And so I licked the drippings of my wet pussy from the stool, and watched the heat rise in his eyes, and felt powerful at his response.