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

by Tara Crescent

  I grinned from ear to ear, wondering what he had planned. “I’m on my way.”

  ***

  I pulled up at a marina. Patrick was waiting for me in the parking lot. “Boat ride?” he asked me with a smile.

  “You own a boat?”

  “A little one,” he said. The boat we walked towards wasn’t quite as little as he’d made it out to sound, but it wasn’t massive either. I knew nothing about boats. This one had a motor, and that was all I knew. He turned the engine on and we speeded down Lake Ontario.

  It was cool; it was October, and there was a definite chill in the air. I shivered a little, and Patrick went downstairs to get me a sweatshirt. “There’s a bedroom there?” I asked.

  He smirked in response. “A tiny one, just for emergencies. Ever had sex on a boat, Lisa?”

  I winked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I grinned. The answer was no, never, but if he wanted to know, I was going to make him work for it. I’d slept with a lot of men in the course of my life. It wasn’t sex that I ran from, just commitment. If we were going to have that particular conversation, it would be a seriously awkward one.

  His lips twitched in response, but he didn’t probe. Instead, after about twenty minutes of travel, Patrick turned off the engine, and turned towards me. “Want a tour?” he asked.

  “A tour of the bedroom?” I smirked.

  He laughed. “Exactly.”

  ***

  “So I had to see patients this morning,” he said, in the doorway of the tiniest bedroom I’d ever seen in my life. His voice was steel, but I could hear the underlying laughter. “And there they were, asking questions about recovery times and risks and infections, and all I could think about was the way you moved and writhed and moaned with that piece of ginger in your ass. Ah Lisa, you are driving me crazy with desire.”

  A smile spread over my face, wide and happy. He looked at me, and shook his head.

  “You shouldn’t distract me at work, Lisa,” he chided. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, and lust as well, barely held in check.

  “I’m very sorry, Dr. Anderson,” I said, my voice soft.

  “I don’t think a verbal apology suffices in this case,” he said, his voice hard, utterly dominant. Oh, the sound of his voice, it sent pulse-waves of pleasure coursing through me. My nipples stiffened under my shirt and my pussy grew moist. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lisa?”

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I mumbled.

  “I think we need a demonstration of what happens when I’m unhappy, don’t we?” His voice was quiet.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I repeated. My body started to heat with lust. My eyes shone with need as I looked at his face, waiting for his instructions. He moved towards me and stood so close to me that I could feel the heat from his body.

  “I’m going to take off your clothes,” he said evenly. I nodded. His fingers were on me, my buttons were swiftly undone, and then, I was naked. He lifted me off my feet, swung me into his arms, and gently placed me in the middle of the bed.

  “I don’t want to strain your wrist,” he said. “So let me know if anything I do bothers it.”

  I nodded silently again.

  “Cat got your tongue, sweetie?” he asked me, laughing.

  I shook my head and smiled at him, but kept quiet. He laughed again. “I want verbal acknowledgement of my instructions, Lisa,” he said, his voice dominant again.

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered. That voice – it sent a straight, hot flame of arousal towards my pussy.

  “Part your legs,” he ordered. I complied.

  He kicked off his shoes, and slid on the bed. I made a noise of protest. “Not fair,” I said to him. “You take off your clothes as well.”

  He laughed, and his fingers reached to unbutton his shirt and toss it to one side. I openly licked my lips as he removed his belt, and he shook his head at me, laughing. “Already ready for more of the belt, Lisa?”

  “Whatever you’d like, Dr. Anderson,” I said, blushing a little.

  “Ah Lisa, a bit late to be coy, don’t you think? Tell me what you want.”

  I looked at him. “I want you,” I said, my voice steady, my eyes on his face. “I don’t care how. I just want you.”

  His eyes darkened for a second and then he smiled at me. “I’m right here, Lisa.” He unzipped his pants, pulled down his briefs, threw them carelessly on top of his shirt, and slid up the bed, till he was over me. The weight of his body crushed me as his mouth found mine, and took it in a searing kiss that left me shaking all over in need.

  His cock was erect, nudging at my pussy. “Patrick, please, don’t tease me, just fuck me, please,” I begged. Hot, flaming arousal blazed through my body with shocking speed.

  He shook his head. “Patience is a virtue, Lisa,” he whispered in my ear, tracing a line of kisses from my mouth, down my chin, to the hollow of my throat. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he repeated, his voice rough with need.

  My head cleared for an instant, and I realized that Patrick had baggage too. His ex-wife wouldn’t tell him what she wanted, seemingly content to let it be about his fantasies all the time. I needed him to keep the dominance in check, to reassure me that ceding control wasn’t something that wasn’t going to extend beyond our sex life into anything else. In the same way, he needed me to express myself, to be honest with him, and tell him what I needed from him.

  Warmth spread through me as I realized this. Patrick seemed perfect in every way, and it reassured me that he needed something from me too.

  I looked at him. There was plenty that I wanted him to do to me, and I really liked that I could tell him my fantasies. He listened without judgment, and then, he made them come true. Perfection.

  “Spank my pussy,” I begged. His lips curved into a smile. “Gladly,” he said, and pulled himself up. He went outside the bedroom for an instant, and came back with a coil of rope in his hands.

  “Advantages of being on a boat,” he quipped. “Rope’s always handy. Spread your legs.”

  I did as I was told, a big, happy smile on my face. He laughed at my expression. “You look delighted to be tied up, sweetie. Not even a tiny little bit of fear.”

  I laughed. “Should I be afraid?”

  His eyes softened. “Never,” he said, taking my ankle in his hand, winding the rope around it, and lashing it to the bed. He repeated the motion on my other leg, stretching me wide open, and tying me down so I couldn’t move.

  “I’m not going to tie down your hands,” he said, gesturing to the cast on my wrist. “Keep them above your head though, and Lisa? Keep still.” That last instruction came out in Patrick’s dominant voice; quiet and intent, with a perfect confidence that he would be obeyed. My pussy automatically gushed in response.

  “Okay,” I said softly. He bent down and kissed the ankle closest to him softly, then reached for his belt.

  “Ready?” he asked me.

  I gulped. He was going to use his belt to spank my pussy, and tied wide-open as I was, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Sometimes, I needed to remind myself to think through my fantasies.

  My thoughts must have flashed across my face, because Patrick’s lips twitched. “Poor baby,” he muttered. “Tomorrow morning, every single bit of you is going to be sore. Now, no unnecessary talking, please.”

  He knelt at my side, the belt in perfect striking position of my pussy. “Ready?” he asked me. I nodded.

  Whap. Heat from the stroke radiated through me, starting at my pussy, spiralling outward. The stroke left behind a tiny ache of pain, but a larger ache of pleasure, as my pussy clenched in need. I wanted to groan and ask for more, but I obeyed his wishes and kept silent.

  Again, his wrist flicked the belt and again, heat engulfed me. I arched off the bed, my hips flailing as I groaned. Patrick just waited for me to settle down. “How’s that feel, baby?” he asked, his voice a thread of amusement.

  “Again,” I said, shocked at the blatant need in my voice
. His wrist flicked, and I groaned and writhed again, as much as I could move with my ankles restrained.

  “More,” I begged. He laughed, and leaned forward. His lips found mine for a second, and he kissed me sweetly, as if I was the most precious thing in the world, and then heat shuddered through me again as he snapped his wrist, and the belt hit my pussy.

  “Such a good girl,” he said, as I moaned as intense pleasure swept through me. His fingers moved to my pussy, parting my outer lips, and the tip of the belt found the inner lips with the sweetest of stings. “Fuck, Patrick,” I groaned, as I flailed.

  “Back to position,” he said, his voice quiet. I obeyed instantly. “Do you like that, baby?”

  “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I groaned. “Please…”

  The belt came down again, and I flailed again, but in seconds, I was still again, waiting for the next stroke. Again, and again, Patrick’s fingers holding my outer lips apart, flooding my pussy with heat from the belt, his eyes watching me writhe and flail with attentiveness and caring.

  My right hand reached down towards my pussy automatically; I wanted to touch the tender flesh, rub my clitoris, spread the moisture seeping from my pussy onto my clitoris, and curve into an orgasm as the belt flailed down on me. I started moving my hand before I suddenly stopped and looked at Patrick for permission.

  “Please may I touch myself, Dr. Anderson?” I asked him.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Were you going to touch yourself without asking for permission, Lisa?” His voice was very quiet.

  Shit. “I was. I’m sorry.”

  “Such a good girl,” he said. “Telling the truth. It’s going to get you punished though.”

  I gulped, but his eyes were teasing. “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I said, my tone serious. I was explicitly giving him permission to punish me. I was deliberately granting him the right to control whether I could touch myself or not. With conscious intention, I was submitting to him.

  The belt hit me again, and his hand stroked my breasts gently. I hissed in pain; that stroke had been harder.

  “Too hard?” he asked, instantly noticing the difference in my reaction.

  But I’d made a decision to submit, and I looked at him quietly. “I have a safe word, Dr. Anderson,” I said.

  “And will you always use it, baby?” I wondered if he suspected that I wouldn’t have used my safeword the day he had spanked me with his belt. But trust cut both ways, and I nodded and I meant it. “Yes, I’ll use it if I need.”

  He smiled at me, before a hardness came over it. “In that case, Lisa, here are the only things I want to hear from you. Please. Thank you. Or your safeword. Understood?”

  I nodded silently.

  His fingers parted my pussy lips, and the belt snapped down again. I groaned a muted thank you, and I saw him smile at me. The belt cascaded down, again and again. I kept my eyes on Patrick’s face. I moaned, I groaned, I writhed and I flailed, and I chanted my thanks to him.

  Finally, he stopped, rolled a condom on, and plunged into me, deep and hard. Again, I yelped. I was sore from the belt, but as he started moving within me, I realized it didn’t matter. I needed him to be hard. I needed to lose myself in him. My free hand, the one not in the wrist cast, touched his waist, pulled him closer to my body. I wanted to feel his entire weight on me, crushing me with sweetness.

  He pounded into me, hard, fast and perfect, and his fingers found my clitoris and rubbed it in a rhythm that he knew better than anyone else, and far, far before I would have thought I was there, I went utterly still as I reached the edge of the cliff, and fell freely into orgasm.

  Through the fireworks and the electricity and the pulsing waves of pleasure, I felt him groan as my orgasm triggered his own, and as he lowered himself on the bed next to me, I took his hand in mine, and I never wanted to let go.

  Chapter 17

  Lisa:

  “Where do you want to go next?” he asked me when we docked.

  “Your place?” I asked him. I’d had sex with Patrick less than an hour ago, and I needed him again. “I do need a change of clothes though.”

  He nodded. “I have some crackers and cheese and stuff in my refrigerator, or we can go out for food.”

  “I’ll take the crackers and cheese, if it comes with more amazing sex,” I said, not even attempting to pretend I didn’t want him again.

  His eyes darkened with lust. “Ah Lisa,” he said, his voice silky, “let’s see what I can do.”

  ***

  We ate crackers and cheese, hummus, pita and fruit. When we were done, he looked at me. “Come here,” he ordered. I moved in front of him. He quickly removed my shirt and my pants, unhooked my bra and slid my panties down my legs. “Go to the examination room,” he ordered. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

  I nodded and obeyed, walking naked through his house and up his stairs. Entering the examination room, I took a deep breath and waited for disquiet. None came. My mom was safe and well, and while I might never think about Toronto General with affection, my antipathy did not extend to Patrick’s examination room. Nope. In this room, I felt only lust.

  ***

  “Spread your legs, Miss Preston,” he said evenly, helping me on the examination table.

  I lay back on the table, and spread my legs as I had been ordered, my knees bent, my calves meeting my thighs. I gripped my right ankle to hold myself in position. My left leg wouldn’t be quite so well-behaved, since the cast on my wrist prevented me from grabbing my ankle.

  “Still shaved,” he commented. A tiny smile played at his lips. I blushed and lowered my eyes, but kept looking at him through my lowered lashes. His smile widened into a full-blown smirk.

  “Stop looking so smug,” I muttered. He just laughed. It was rather a transparent tell, but one that I had no idea I was displaying until that moment. Every day since Patrick had shaved me that first time, my hands had reached for my razor in the shower. Without even thinking about it, I kept myself cleanly shaved for him. Fuck.

  “I’m not smug,” he said quietly, once his laughter had died down. “I’m flattered.” The back of his hand stroked my jaw, and I kissed it as it slid past my mouth. He gazed at me, his eyes intent. Then, a veil slid over them. The game was beginning.

  The sound of a drawer sliding open and shut, but I kept my eyes straight ahead. He returned with a couple of straps, and strapped my calves to my thighs. “Just keep them spread,” he instructed me. I nodded, compliant and pliable, my head already in the space where I would obey his instructions without question, because my obedience brought me freedom and pleasure and shocking lust.

  A plastic syringe was in his hands now, and lube was squeezed into my pussy and anus. My pussy was already dripping wet, and the warm lube just added another layer of heat; I shivered in aroused anticipation. He inclined the syringe so that the plastic tip grazed my clitoris, and I groaned aloud, the scratch of that tip sending spiky jagged edges of lust shuddering through me. Then, the tip circled my tight anal ring, and I groaned at that sensation, the scraping of that tip causing faint discomfort and powerful lust.

  He slid on a pair of rubber gloves, and his finger followed the tip of the syringe into my puckered asshole. The rubber was cold on my skin, a contrast to the heat the lube had left in its wake. His other hand pressed down on my pussy, holding me steady as his fingers explored my body. I kept my legs parted, and closed my eyes, letting the sensations cascade through me.

  “How does that feel, Miss Preston?” His voice was near my ear.

  “Good,” I replied quietly. The tersest of descriptions, but words wouldn’t be formed when my mind was hazy with pleasure.

  He shook his head. “You can do better than that, Lisa,” he said, his voice warm. A caress in my ear.

  “So good,” I muttered, to the sounds of his warm chuckle.

  A second finger joined the first, then a third. I groaned, feeling stretched, a hint of pain seasoning the pleasure that I felt. He ignored my groan, and pushed in steadily,
and I could feel my asshole yield to him.

  “Now, Lisa,” he said. He sounded amused. “Absolutely no coming until I tell you, do you understand?”

  I nodded, though I winced inwardly. Patrick was skilled at keeping me at the edge; my session with the fucking machine had made me wary of his iron control. But I wasn’t going to protest. I was going to take everything he threw my way.

  He pulled his fingers out; replaced them with a butt plug. He wasn’t gentle as he pushed it in, but he’d prepared me with his fingers, and I only felt a fleeting twinge of pain. Then he did something, and the plug started vibrating in my ass; the buzzing sending pleasure tendrils spiralling through me.

  “Patrick,” I groaned. This was torture; the vibrations kept me aroused, but without any pressure on my clitoris, I wasn’t going to be able to climax.

  “I don’t want to hear you whine,” he snapped at me. I looked at him, startled, to see him smile and wink. Part of the game. I played along.

  He turned away, and when he returned, a blindfold dangled from his hands. I gulped; I hated not being able to see what was going on; without sight, I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope, and one incorrect step could send me falling down the chasms on either side. He eyed me, a challenge in his eyes. “Is there a problem?” he asked. His voice was even.

  I took a deep breath, searched for calm in me. I trusted Patrick.

  “No, Dr. Anderson,” I whispered. His hands reached around, placing the blindfold over my eyes, tightening the strap at the back of my head.

  “Can you see anything?” he asked. I shook my head silently.

  “Lisa,” his voice was very soft at my ear. I jumped; I hadn’t heard him move. “Use your safeword if it is too much,” he growled. I nodded.

  His fingers were at my nipples, pinching and pulling them, and then, a searing pain swept through me. My nipples pulsed, and I couldn’t think for a minute. I bit my lip to contain my moan; he’d stop if he knew I was in pain. I just concentrated on breathing; deep even breaths that pushed the pain back and replaced it with a dull ache.