Page 5 of Yes, Doctor (Master Me #2)

T he room practically vibrated with the thrum of sexual tension. He had Chloe so wound up she was jumping out of her skin and he couldn’t wait to see what happened when he sprang her coil.

He slid a finger across her folds again, checking for wetness. Not surprisingly, her sex quivered with readiness, her tissue plumped and lubricated. He pressed the tip of a vibrator he’d bought last week at her opening and turned it on.

Chloe drew in her breath with a gasp, her body jerking in response.

“Now I need to get an accurate reading on the thermometer, so do not orgasm until I tell you. Understand?”

“I can’t just orgasm or not orgasm on command!” she protested, trying to twist her head around to see him. He had purposely stayed out of her line of sight, to add to the mystery and suspense.

“I believe you promised to obey?” he reminded her.

“But I—”

“No excuses, Chloe,” he said, hoping she would fail. He circled her clit with the tip of the vibrator, enjoying the sight of her little ass bucking in response, the thermometer jutting out so she looked like a turkey ready for basting.

He buried the vibrator deep inside her, using its curved tip to seek her g-spot.

“Oh God!” she cried in a panicked wail.

“I can see why doctors used this device to treat hysteria, can’t you?” he asked conversationally.

She thrashed her head from side to side, lifting it from the table and arching her back like a cat while pulling on her bound wrists.

“You seem to be growing more and more hysterical, don’t you? I suppose the instrument draws out the hysteria first, and then relieves it.”

“Dr. Drake...pleeease,” she pleaded. “Oh please, oh please, oh please. I need you.”

The words I need you sent a shock through him.

Already turned on by watching the most erotic display of female arousal he had ever witnessed, his cock gave a painful throb.

Did I need you mean she wanted him inside her?

He hadn’t planned on getting himself off with her, still clinging to the idea that withholding his pleasure made this scenario more acceptable.

Now he wasn’t sure he could hold back. He slid out the vibrator, stood on the step between her bound feet and leaned forward, gripping the backs of her thighs.

“Ohhh,” she moaned in anticipation.

He leaned forward and licked into her, holding her legs firm as her knees bent and straightened, her pelvis humping the table. Her scent filled his nostrils, her tangy essence driving him to distraction. He flicked his tongue over her clit while she writhed under his grip.

The moment he penetrated her with his fingers, she convulsed, her pussy clenching around his digits, her voice raising to a high-pitched scream.

He shoved his fingers in and out until she finished, then eased the thermometer and his fingers out at once, eliciting a groan. He made a tsking sound. “Miss Jones, I asked you not to orgasm until I gave you permission.”

“Impossible,” she panted, sounding completely spent.

“No, it is quite possible, and with a little training, you will learn I am in charge of your body. But first, I believe punishment is in order for your disobedience.”

“Are you going to...spank me?”

He heard a quaver of excitement in her voice. He slapped the delicious curve of her buttocks. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He walked to the cabinet and pulled out more surgical tubing. Holding a length, he used it to whip her bottom.

She giggled. The tubing was too light, not providing any sting when he brought it down. He abandoned it and returned to the supply cupboard, this time retrieving a hypodermic needle. “What did you hate most about visiting the doctor as a child?” he asked, walking toward her with the needle prepped.

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. “What’s in that?” she asked, her tone dead serious. It was as if they were actors in a play and she’d just broken character to question the director about their blocking.

“Saline,” he answered as a similar “aside”.

She lowered her head, and tensed her shoulders, signaling her acceptance of his punishment.

He inserted the needle on the lower side of her right buttock, and injected the saline.

She gave a soft moan when he removed it. “You’re a sick bastard,” she said, although he heard a giggle in her voice.

He chuckled. “I can still give that spanking.”

She didn’t even pretend not to want it.

Walking to the head of the table, he released her wrists, rubbing away the red where the tubing had pressed against her skin.

He kissed her pulse, then bit the meaty part of her thumb.

Gently twisting her arms behind her, he re-tied her wrists where they lay in the small of her back.

Surveying the picture she made, he reached out and plucked the tie to her dressing gown, releasing the knot so the strings fell to the sides and bared her back completely.

There. Absolute perfection. Fully naked, her peaches and cream skin glowed against the white of the paper, her small lean body perfectly framed on his table.

Legs spread, ankles bound, wrists secured behind her back and hair fanned around her head like a halo, she made the most erotic and enticing picture he had ever seen.

The crowning glory came with the sight of her pink sex glistening once again, despite her recent orgasm.

Untying her ankles, he pulled her legs down until she could stand on the step, still bent at the waist, her ass presented to him. He slapped one cheek, catching the lower curve of her buttock in his palm in a most satisfying way. Rubbing the sting away, he slapped again, and then again.

“Mmm,” she encouraged.

“I think you quite like being a naughty girl, don’t you Miss Jones?”

She gave a soft “oomph” when he slapped her other cheek. “I-I’m not sure of the appropriate answer to that question,” she admitted.

He brought his hand back and landed it squarely between her legs, slapping her pussy.

She squeaked and tried to erect her torso in surprise.

He pushed her back down. “No, Miss Jones. You asked for this spanking. If I decide you require vaginal percussion, I will apply it.”

She giggled at his made up medical term “vaginal percussion.”

He slapped her sex again, his fingers moistened by her slick juices. By the third slap, she was moaning wantonly, beginning to writhe against the exam table.

Being able to ignite such desire in her gave him a rush like he’d never before experienced—a soaring sense of virility and heady power.

“Doctor Drake…”

He fisted fingers into her hair and pulled it back. “Dr. Darren, my dear Miss Jones,” he murmured in her ear.

“Dr. Darren, I need you.”

Once more the words set him on fire, his own animal need barely leashed. “Need me...how?” he asked hoarsely.

“I need you to fuck me, doctor,” she moaned. “ Now .”

He abandoned any thoughts of reminding her who was in charge as he yanked off his white coat and tossed it on the floor.

Fumbling for a condom from his wallet, he drank in the sight of her again.

Her submissive pose exquisite, her pleading moans singing him into an altered state.

Unbuttoning his pants, he freed his length, sheathing it with the condom.

“Now, Miss Jones, this is still an experimental procedure,” he said, stepping up onto the stair behind her. “But I’m willing to try, since your case is rather unusual.”

He slid into her without any preparation, her tissues engorged and welcoming, channel slick.

“Oh God, yes,” she muttered. “Oh please fuck me hard.”

He went dizzy to hear her talk like a porn star.

He’d always known her blushes and stammer did not mask a demure little innocent.

No, they had been real enough, because they hid her true nature: submissive slut.

In the best possible way that label could be used.

He grasped her hips and obliged, slamming his cock inside her and withdrawing, slamming again, reveling in her gasps and the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

His own control began to crumble. He wanted to draw it out, to pleasure her further, but he became lost in the act of burying his cock deep inside her tight little channel.

“Chloe…” he muttered, forgetting about Miss Jones and Dr. Dreamy and letting the scene drop away until it became only about the two of them.

Not doctor and patient, not employer and employee, just Chloe and Darren—their true selves, underneath it all.

As he held Chloe’s pelvis, controlling her to meet his thrusts, he knew he would never get enough of her.

He could no longer pretend this was all a game: he wanted her as his own, wanted to devour her, control her, protect and care for her.

He needed to claim her like a rutting beast choosing the best mate.

“Ahhh, God, Chloe!” he groaned moments before he shot his load.

“So...do you have a girlfriend?” she asked after Dr. Darren had brought her to the second most incredible orgasm of her life, the first being the one that immediately preceded it.

He had turned her around and sat her on the edge of the exam table, standing fully clothed between her knees while she remained naked.

“A girlfriend?” he repeated looking surprised. He cupped one of her breasts, running his thumb over it. “No, but there is this very cute CNA in my practice,” he purred in her ear. “I’ve had my eye on her for a while now.”

“Oh yeah? How long?” she asked.

He brought his other hand up so he cupped both breasts, pinching her elongated nipples. “Months and months. She used to go tongue-tied in my presence, but I could tell she had real spark.”

“Real spark?” she repeated. “Do you mean spunk?”

He pushed her back to lie on the table, lifting one of her legs to his hip as he nuzzled her neck. “No—spark. Like she might combust into flames on my exam table.”

She grasped his head to keep him there. “Do you think you’ll ask her out?” she whispered.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

His hand stroked up her thigh to knead her buttcheek. “Yesss,” she moaned.

“There’s something she probably ought to know about me,” he said.

She stilled, bracing herself for the revelation. He had herpes. Or three children under the age of four. Or a wife in Canada. “What is it?”

“I like to be in charge.”

She giggled. “I think she already knows about that.”

“Do you think she can take it?”

She looked at his face, thinking about how he had the power to make her stomach drop, her legs quiver and her center core turn to molten liquid. But that was all sexual. Did he mean in general? She swallowed. Could she handle it?

He started to pull away.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, she reached for him and yanked him back down, kissing him with passion, wrapping her legs around his waist and squeezing.

He smiled against her lips. When he broke the kiss, he helped her to sit up and then stand. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

Even though she’d practically just demanded he ask her out, she flushed with pleasure. “I’d love to, Dr. Darren.”

He grinned, his lips curling into the smile she found so devastating.

She glanced at her scrubs in the corner. “Would it be all right if I went home to change really quick?”

“You are pretty sexy in scrubs. But okay,” he conceded with a wink.

She gave him her address and they agreed he would pick her up in an hour.

As she drove home, she pictured what it would be like to sit across the table from him and froze up.

What would they talk about? Did they have anything in common at all?

She was a twenty-six year old who spent her time hanging out at nightclubs with her close friends.

He was a thirty-something medical doctor, who probably went to wine tastings or did something sophisticated and mature in his spare time.

She arrived at home and changed quickly, freshening up her make up and hair, her anxiety only mounting.

When the bell rang, she answered it, her stomach in a tight knot.

“Hey,” she said, her palms sweating.

“You look great,” he said, his eyes sweeping up and down with an appreciative gaze.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she racked her brain for something interesting to say.

It was going to be a very long date if she couldn’t pull it together soon.