Page 6 of Yes, Doctor (Master Me #2)

T he date had been a flop. Although he knew she wanted him to come in, to give it the happy ending they’d both expected, he dropped her off at the door with a quick kiss.

“We both have to be at work early,” he’d said by way of explanation. “I’ll see you there.”

“Right. Okay,” she said, her gaze not lifting above the level of his sternum. “Good night,” she said, turning and rushing inside.

Damn.

It had been awkward. Even though he’d tried to keep her relaxed, Chloe had slipped back into her nervous employee role, blinking at him with wide eyes and stammering monosyllabic answers to his questions.

He knew there was more to her—she had been irreverent and cute and totally frank when he’d pierced her bubble before.

When she’d let him pull off her clothes and do dirty things to her on his table.

Maybe it was one of those relationships that couldn’t go beyond the sexual.

Except that seemed like a cop-out. She wasn’t an airhead or annoying or anything else that would make him deem a woman “undateable”.

She wasn’t even shy, despite the way she’d behaved at dinner.

So he just had to get her to open up and be herself so they could get to know each other.

And a quiet dinner at a steak house had not been the right approach.

He considered their age gap. Maybe meeting somewhere on her turf would’ve been better?

He sighed as he undressed that night, feeling like he’d somehow let her down. He’d been able to make her let go in his examination room, so why not on a date? And the worst part was he knew with an absolute surety she sat at home blaming herself. What would she do about it?

He hoped she would rally.

In the morning he found her paperwork from her previous OB/Gyn had arrived. He called her into his office.

“I received your medical history file, Chloe,” he said when she entered his office and sat down, looking nervous. “Everything seems to be in order. Are you satisfied with the brand of birth control pills you’re currently on?”

She blinked for a moment. “Yes. Do you think they’re okay?”

“Well, even the lightest dose of hormones have side effects, but it’s a brand I’m comfortable with.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I hate doctor speak.”

He sat back, crossing his legs and looping his fingers around one knee. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She gave a short bark of laughter, her eyes crinkling as her cheeks colored. Ignoring his remark, she said, “I thought you were going to call me in here and tell me I’m a lousy date.”

He smiled, amused. This was the real Chloe—the girl he wanted to know better. “No. I take responsibility for the bad date. Next time I will keep you on a shorter leash.”

Her brows lowered but he could see her nippes protruding through her scrubs. “A shorter leash?”

He nodded. “You require closer supervision. Tighter controls. Next time I’ll tell you what to wear, when to speak and how to speak to me.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape.

He arched a brow. “And if you can’t obey, you’ll be punished.”

That tweaked her. Color rose high in her cheeks, her brown eyes looking bright. She rubbed her lips together. “When?” she asked hoarsely.

He suppressed a laugh and tipped his head to the side. “We’ll see how you do around here this week. I have a few challenges for you.”

She appeared to be hiding a grin. She stood and tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’m ready for them,” she said.

“Ok. Supply closet. Ten minutes.”

She drew an audible breath, her eyes widening, then whirled on her heel and walked swiftly out.

He chuckled. He’d had no idea things would go that way, but he couldn’t be more satisfied.

He opened his desk drawer and retrieved the small toy he had ordered last week after their first tryst. The Lelo “LYLA 2”—a bullet vibrator with a wireless remote control.

Quiet enough to use in public, with eight different speeds.

He could literally keep Chloe on edge all day long.

He stood and pocketed the device and controller, adjusting his cock, which already strained in anticipation.

He looked through the rest of his lab reports and checked his watch.

While keeping Chloe waiting held a certain appeal, the likelihood of them getting caught increased every minute she was away from her duties.

He left his office and walked purposefully to the supply closet, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

Chloe stood on the far end, her hands braced against the shelves behind her, as if she could not stand on her own.

“Turn around and bend over.”

She only hesitated for a few seconds before slowly rotating and folding at the waist.

“Pull down your pants and panties.”

She reached back, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her scrubs and slid them down.

He stifled a growl in his throat, the sight of her creamy white ass offered up to him making it hard to breathe. The pink lips of her sex peeked out, the smell of her arousal filling the supply closet.

Voices in the hallway brought him back. He deliberately stood so his body would block the sight of her if anyone opened the door.

“Place your hands on the shelf in front of you,” he instructed.

She complied.

He sauntered over, maintaining the air of casual disinterest, while the animal in him wanted to pounce, to take her right there in the supply closet, fucking her until her teeth rattled. He drew in a breath and released it, stroking the sensuous curve of her buttocks.

She remained still, waiting, a slight tremble in her knees making her buttocks quiver.

“You like to obey, don’t you, Chloe?”

“Only you, doctor,” she said, making him smile.

He rewarded her by caressing her glossy slit and she whimpered, pressed her butt out further. “Today we’re going to work on orgasm training.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave her ass a quick spank. “Do not speak except to say yes, doctor ,” he said sharply.

She stifled a nervous giggle. “Yes, doctor.”

He pulled out the LYLA 2 and rubbed its head in her juices.

She twisted to see what he was doing, but he grasped her hair and pulled back. “Did I say you could look?”

“No, doctor.”

“Eyes on your hands.”

She dropped her head, staring at her hands on the shelf, as he instructed.

He turned on the vibrator, moving it around her engorged clit, drawing out the most beautiful moan.

“Shh,” he warned, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“No moaning, no groaning. And you will definitely not be orgasming until I give you permission. He shoved the LYLA deep inside her. “Use your Kegel muscles to hold this in. I don’t want to have to come back in here and reinsert this,” he said, although he’d enjoy nothing more.

He pulled up her panties, then her scrub bottoms and, reaching around front, cupped her mons. “How does that feel?” he asked, his cock pressing against her low back.

She took a shuddering breath. “Um...fine?” she said in a desperate-sounding voice.

He chuckled and turned the speed on the LYLA up. “Just fine?”

She gave a whimper of protest. “What are you doing to me?”

He moved his fingers over her sex, adding external stimulation.

She covered his hand with hers, pushing him against her clit.

“Ah-ah, Miss Jones,” he chided. “I’m not even close to giving you permission yet.

Bend back over and put your hands on the shelf.

Do not move until I signal my permission by turning off the vibrator, and when you do move, you may not touch your pussy. ”

She made an indistinct sound.

“Enjoy your day,” he said, turning and walking out.

She stood, completely immobile, simply by his command. What was this power he had over her? Why did he have the ability to make her pussy weep with a mere look, her nipples harden at the timber of his voice?

She shivered, the pulsing vibration driving her to distraction. She wanted nothing more than to slip her fingers between her legs and twiddle her clit until she came, but she couldn’t make herself disobey the good doctor Drake.

Anyone could walk in right now and see her.

She imagined the picture she made. At least her pants were up.

She decided if she heard anyone coming, she would simply crouch down like she had dropped something.

Or should she just erect herself quickly?

She nibbled her lip, trying not to pay attention to the insistent little device inside her core.

It stopped buzzing.

The change came as both relief and disappointment. She slowly stood, her hand reaching between her legs then freezing mid-air.

You may not touch your pussy.

Damn him. And how well could she keep the thing seated inside her? The sound of the door handle turning made her whirl and rush toward the door.

“Good morning,” she called out as she breezed past Jane, the nurse practitioner.

Despite the awkwardness of carrying a small sexual toy within her cavity, her mood soared.

She’d been a first class idiot the night before at dinner, searching for something clever to say, and coming up with zilch.

She’d lost all her nerve contemplating the date.

She wondered what one discussed on a date with a doctor at least ten years her senior.

She wanted to meet him at his level, and then realized she couldn’t possibly.

Her life consisted of work—which they had no need to discuss—and partying with her friends. She didn’t golf, attend investment meetings or dine at steak houses or whatever else middle-aged doctors did. She didn’t even like doctors!

Well, clearly that was a lie, because this particular doctor could take her by the nose and lead her anywhere he wanted her to go. A fact which she still didn’t understand.

She led a patient into the exam room and took her blood pressure, noting it on the chart.

“Dr. Reinhart will be right with you,” she promised as she stepped out.

She swung the door closed, nearly slamming it, because at that moment, the little bullet began to vibrate.

She whipped her head around, looking for her torturer, but he was nowhere in sight.

Already aroused from his previous use of the bullet, her body flamed into hot desire. She walked toward the reception area, each step making her swollen pussy ache more. She placed a hand over her low belly, as if it might somehow alleviated her need.

“Cramps?” Jane asked as she passed her in the hall.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

Where the hell was Dr. Drake? Did the toy have a certain range? If she left the building would it stop? But even as she contemplated it, she knew she wouldn’t. She had to see where this would lead, craved the delicious torture.

She opened the door to reception and called the next patient. A woman pregnant with twins waddled forward, her huge belly making the rest of her look tiny in comparison.

The vibration intensified. She crossed one leg in front of the other, trying to brush the lips of her sex, dying for some kind of contact or pressure there.

“Did you—” she stopped, gasping as the bullet moved at a new speed. “Did you leave a urine sample?” she managed, trying to keep her face blank.

“Yes, of course,” the woman said.

Finally. A patient who paid attention to instructions. “Thank you. If you’ll just step on the scale here,” she said, stifling the whimper rising in her throat.

The patient stood on the scale and she slid the bars across.

“One eighty-three,” she read, jotting it in the chart with a shaking hand.

She’d be lucky if the doctor could read it.

She glanced at the chart to see which doctor she belonged to.

Dr. Drake. Well, it served him right if he couldn’t read her numbers.

“Exam room five,” she said, motioning toward the appropriate door. “You’ll find a gown on the table.” She looked around again. Where the hell was Dr. Drake?

The vibrating stopped.

She exhaled, walking forward on shaky legs to pick up another file. She called another patient, then returned to Exam room five to take the patient’s blood pressure, although it took her two tries—she lost track of counting the first time.

A knock sounded on the door and Dr. Drake walked in, his debonaire smile lighting the room. She longed to launch herself into his arms, or tear out his hair. Or just swoon at the wink he gave her. She needed him with her whole being.

She forced herself to walk out of the room, though she wanted to shove the patient and her twin belly to the floor, throwing off her own clothes and spreading her legs for him. But oh yeah, she’d already done that, at least the throwing off her clothes and spreading her legs part.

She couldn’t help but turn and glance at him one last time as she shut the door. Her heart stuttered to find him looking back, a little smirk twisting his lips.

This was, by far, the most exciting thing to ever happen in her boring little life. At that moment, she didn’t care whether Dr. Drake—Darren—wanted to date her or not. Even if he gave her nothing more than crazy kinky sex in the workplace on a weekly basis, she would be fulfilled.

But who was she kidding? They couldn’t continue this way, could they?

The vibrating began again, a slow, maddening pulse. She groaned.

“Take some ibuprofen,” Jane advised, overhearing.

She choked back a laugh. “Good idea,” she managed. “I will. Thanks.”

She went into an exam room to clean it up for the next patient.

As she replaced the paper covering on the table and tossed the used gown in the hamper, she considered shutting the door and giving herself some privacy.

But to do what? Did she plan to disobey Dr. Drake and touch herself?

She didn’t want to—she liked the idea of meeting his challenge.

So then how else did she hope on getting release?

Squeezing her thighs together hard enough?

Considering her state of arousal, it would probably work.

But no, when she came, she wanted it to be with Dr. Drake’s participation.

She dug her fingernails into her palms and walked out, wondering how many more hours of torture she could take.