Page 4 of Yes, Doctor (Master Me #2)

C hloe occupied most of his thoughts that week. He experienced an intense need to protect her, which was probably why he had insisted on becoming her doctor.

He had entered med school out of a desire to master life’s calamities.

His father died when he was sixteen, leaving him and his mother with a sense of helplessness and even betrayal.

Perhaps if he were more spiritual, the message would have been to surrender to a higher power because humans have no control.

Instead, he vowed to learn everything about the human body to manage its frailties.

He didn’t expect difficulties with Chloe’s case, but if the results were less than ideal, he would be her warrior.

Chloe also occupied his less altruistic thoughts.

He thought of the sight of her sprawled on his table, her head thrashing in utter abandon.

He wanted to get her on it again, despite his better judgment.

Without fully admitting to himself his intention, he had volunteered to let Dr. Dihns go home early on Friday, so he might have the pleasure of working alone with her again.

He’d even stopped by the adult toy store to buy a few choice items. But when Friday came, he ended up with a patient in pre-term labor and had to work at the hospital all afternoon.

Now, with the clarity of a Monday morning, he decided it was for the best: getting kinky with Chloe again was playing with fire. He should consider it a dodged bullet and let it all fade to a memory.

But when he walked in his clinic that morning, a little African violet plant sat on his desk, wrapped up in a purple bow. It had no card with it.

Chloe peeked her head in through the doorway. “Hey.”

He looked up, the sound of her voice lifting his spirits more than the two cups of coffee he’d already drunk. “Good morning. Is this from you?”

She walked in a few steps, looking shy. “Yeah.”

“What for?”

“For, you know—taking me on as a patient. Sandra told me at the front desk you labeled my file as a “no fee” and I appreciate that.”

He found himself mildly disappointed by her answer.

An obligatory thank you gift for not charging her was hardly what he wanted.

But what had he hoped for, then? Her big eyes blinking up at him with undying gratitude?

For her to call him her hero? Or sink to her knees and unzip his pants?

That image seemed to propel him around his desk, into her personal space.

His door gaped open, which meant if anyone walked by, they would see them there. “I need to know something, if I’m going to be your doctor,” he said in a low voice.

She licked her lips. “Oh yeah?”

The space between them seemed charged, as if the heat of her body reached him through the eight inches separating them, and it sent tingles down his legs.

“I need your implicit trust in every order I give. You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.”

She swallowed, her eyes dilating. “Obey you?”

He leaned closer, still not touching her. “Yes, Chloe.”

“And submit?”

“You heard me.”

“Like what?”

He shook his head. “You don’t question. You give your body over to my care. Do we have an agreement?” He could see by the frantic flutter of her pulse at her throat and the way her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath, he had excited her.

She nodded, her big brown eyes locked on his.

He raised his eyebrows. “Where’s my yes, doctor ?”

Her face broke into a slow grin so dazzling he almost stepped back. “Yes, doctor.”

“Good girl.” He looked at his watch. “I have a pretty full schedule, but I think I can fit you in around 5:30,” he said.

The clinic closed at five, so they would be alone by then.

Chloe gave him another chesire cat grin. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Exam Room Six. In a gown.” Dr. Drake wore a serious expression that made a shiver run down her spine. Obviously her resolve not to play this way again had dissolved the moment he’d suggested it. She turned on her heel without answering and strode down the hall toward room six.

She didn’t love his request for a gown. She rather preferred the way it had gone the first time, with him undressing her. Something about wearing the ridiculous gown took away the sex appeal.

You must completely give yourself over to my care, obeying me and submitting to every protocol.

His words made taking off her clothes an act of submission.

He ordered her into a gown. She had to obey.

Why did such a thing make her insides flip flop?

What would he do to her today? The memory of his finger in her ass made her pelvic floor muscles contract, heat spreading to every part.

She realized she’d whimpered out loud and almost giggled.

The power this game had on her staggered her.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and Dr. Drake walked in, looking professional. “Miss Jones, how wonderful to see you again.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she answered meekly.

He looked up from her chart and gave her a quick wink, which made her heart flutter in her chest. “I’m going to need you to lie on your belly on the exam table today.”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline at this unexpected news.

“You heard me,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Up on the table, prone position.”

She drew in a breath and gingerly stepped up to the exam table, climbing onto it with little grace.

She realized she was giving him a full view of her ass, and somehow having the useless, open-backed gown made it worse than being naked.

She crawled forward and lowered to her belly, the fabric of the gown falling down to completely bare her backside.

It took great effort not to clench her buttocks.

Two large hands gripped her calves and pulled her down until her ankles reached the stirrups.

She didn’t see how her feet would fit in them backwards, but then she sensed the stretch of rubber tubing against her calf and realized he was binding her lower leg to the stirrup with surgical tubing.

She tried to pull her leg away, but he held it firmly, already wrapped with the band and quickly secured.

He repeated the action with the other foot, so her two legs were open wide and immobilized, her most intimate parts revealed.

Her pussy clenched.

He trailed a hand up her calf, along her thigh to her ass, where he delivered a gentle slap. “Excellent muscle tone,” he observed and slapped the other side.

“Thank you, doctor,” she murmured.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

She pleaded with her eyes as she raised her arms above her head to extend her wrists to him. She trusted he wouldn’t harm her, but being trussed up like a chicken was definitely out of her comfort zone.

He wound another length of surgical tubing around them and knotted it, then secured it to a knob on the head of the bed immobilizing her. Lying on her breasts without the support of her arms was uncomfortable and she winced, shifting.

He pulled another dressing gown from the bin and rolled it into a ball. Lifting her shoulder, he tucked it under her chest, peeling her sternum and shoulders away from the bed to take the pressure off.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

He gave her another wink and she turned to mush. Who was she kidding? He could do anything he wanted with her.

He picked up his chart again with a pen poised over it. “Today we’re going to examine your time to orgasm. What would you say is the fastest you’ve ever hit climax?”

She giggled into the crinkly paper of the exam table. “I don’t know...five minutes?”

He jotted it down. “And the longest?”

“Well, sometimes I don’t reach it, so what’s that? Never?”

“With manual stimulation or intercourse?”

“Intercourse.”

He stroked a hand down the muscles of her back, his touch light but warm, igniting shivers of excitement through her entire body.

She was almost trembling by the time his palm crested her right buttock.

“In some positions the clitoris does not receive stimulation during coitus, making it difficult to reach orgasm.” His fingers trailed between her legs, brushing lightly over her sex.

Though the touch was feather light, she jerked in response, gasping as a bolt of lightning shot to her toes.

“Do you ever have trouble with manual stimulation?” One finger glided over her honeyed slit, spreading her natural lubrication. She arched her back, pushing her sex against his finger, begging for more. “Miss Jones?” he prompted, his finger still exploring with the lightest of contact.

“Uh…” She trembled with need, her entire body beginning to shiver.

“Do you have trouble with manual stimulation?”

“No! Never,” she gasped.

“Good. Let’s just test it,” he said, removing his fingers.

She gave a whimper of protest.

He left her side and went to the cupboard, returning with a thermometer. “I’m just going to see when and if your temperature rises during stimulation.”

She lifted her head and opened her mouth, obediently.

“Oh no,” he chuckled. “This isn’t for your mouth, Miss Jones.”

Her bottom tightened when she realized his intention. In fact, her entire body went rigid, as if squeezing her buns together and stiffening her knees might somehow keep him from inserting the thermometer in her most private orifice.

He gave her bottom a sharp slap. “Open for me,” he said. He didn’t wear disposable gloves this time, and as much as they lent to the scene, she appreciated the intimacy of his bare skin.

He leaned down, speaking close to her ear. “Be a good girl, or I won’t use lube.”

Her pussy pulsed in response to his dominance, even as her mind rebelled. “Oh God,” she whined, “do you have to do this?”

His only answer was to pull her cheeks apart.

She gasped at the sensation of having her anus pulled taut and exposed. A cold blob of lube landed near it, making her jerk. Dr. Drake touched the head of the thermometer to her pucker which betrayed her by relaxing to allow its entrance. She squirmed at the intrusion and made a “meep” of protest.

When he walked away, she bit the paper table covering, willing herself to relax. She couldn’t see what he retrieved this time, and he walked out of her line of sight, in the direction of her feet. She jumped when he placed his warm hand on the back of her upper thigh.