Doctor's Orders

"You doing ok?" he said softly.

"Yeah. It just been a kind of whirlwind over the past few weeks."

He kissed my forehead. "I'm sure." He paused. "You didn't expect this."

I shook my head against his shoulder.

He whispered, "I didn't either."

I looked up and we kissed. For once, we kissed as equals. I leaned up and pressed into him, my hand stayed around his shaft, moving gently without my even thinking about it. He leaned down and embraced me. His hand slipped down my back and he reached with the other to curl around my neck again. Our mouths and tongues moved together, pulsing and surging against each other. I sat up, pulling him with me, reaching for his face and curling both my hands behind his head.

He leaned me down, stretching out and sliding over me, lying on top of me. I absorbed his weight, stretching myself and spreading my legs so he could settle between them. Our lips never parted and soon his body was rolling and undulating on mine. His cock dragged over the skin of my lower abdomen, but he made no move to insert himself. I laid under him, rolling my body to match his movements and feeling my pussy go from damp to wet to soaked.

Once again, like that first kiss with him, I had the sensation of floating and being pinned at the same time. The sensation of my body and mind inhabiting different planes, meeting only in the junction of my lips against his. Of his tongue darting behind my teeth. Time slowed down even as my heart rate sped up. But eventually we were both out of air, and we pulled apart.

He slid off the couch, kneeling, looking up at me. His eyes were heavy with lust, pupils dilated, and his skin flushed. He slid his hands along my thighs, pressing my legs apart and I offered no resistance, no thought of it.

"Get down here," he said, gruff and hoarse.

I slipped off the couch, and he turned me to face it. I leaned on the seat and he moved my legs apart, settling between them again. I saw the bottle of lube on the floor next to him. I expected to feel that cool liquid on my ass. But instead I felt his fingers, gently probing my vagina, opening my lips and making that circuit of my inner walls. His fingers pushed in and out until I sighed and laid my head on the couch, arching my back and relaxing into him.

Then I felt his cockhead, also probing my vagina. He pushed in just a little, just past his glans and stayed there. His hands massaged my ass, kneading my cheeks and spreading them. He didn't pull or dig his fingers in, he just kept smoothing the flesh away from my asshole, over and over. I softened more, melting into his touch. He slid his cock into me a little further, and kneaded my ass some more.

The sensations were lovely. I was warm all over, barely able to focus on anything or see anything. I rested my head on my folded arms, and this sense of calm flowed over me. I was still very aroused, but it was a different headspace. I completely let go of my nervousness. I let go of any worries about what he thought of me. I was certain I was pleasing to him; I was certain we were both going to enjoy whatever happened next. I realized that I trusted him implicitly. I realized that trust was the best aphrodisiac.

He entered me fully, and started his usual slow but deep strokes. I took him in and gave him back, matching his rhythm with my hips, and tightening or relaxing my inner muscles in time. That's when I felt the lube on my ass. The first few drops cool and slick, with that oily, silicon smell. He slipped a finger in my ass, then another. He matched his fingers' motion with his cock's, and I arched my back, reared up, and my eyes rolled in my head.

I pushed back into him, and he picked up his pace.

"Oh, she likes that, huh?" he said with a soft laugh.

"Oh, yes. Yes, sir," I said, but the words barely made it past my lips.

I felt him adding more lubricant, spreading my asshole with his fingers, and making everything slick and inviting. I think he added a third figure, but I'm not sure. Then he reached around with his other hand and thrummed my clit. The fog and the relaxation ripped away in a cascade of new sensations. It was almost too much at once. I babbled something about slowing down or easing up. He did neither.

But he was just teasing. He brought me to the brink, my pussy fluttering and starting to clench around him, and my ass doing the same around his fingers. Then he pulled out. Abruptly. I whimpered.

When I felt his cock pressing at my ass, I accepted it, instantly. I was too aroused and desperate to be anxious. I started to push back onto him, and he guided my hips. I thought that he'd paved the way well enough that there'd be no resistance. I was wrong. His glans filled my sphincter, stretching it. I gasped, the pain was an exquisite counterpoint, and I loved it. But it was still pain that I hadn't expected. I froze, and squeezed around him. I started to pull off, but he held my hips steady.

"Breathe in, Leah. Breathe in and hold it. Then breathe out."

I did as instructed, and he slipped in a little farther. I twitched and gasped.

"Do that again, and this time bear down, like you're trying to push me out."

"I don't understand."

"I do."

I did what he said. When I bore down, I felt him, that hard but spongey mass of heat. Then when I relaxed, his cockhead slipped past my opening, and he pushed more of his shaft in.

"Oh," I exclaimed. "Oh, my."

"Do that again. Breathe, bear down, relax."

I did. I felt more lube, felt him coating his shaft as well as all around my asshole. When I relaxed again, he slid in further still. That's when he started pumping. Short strokes, slow speed, and adding more lube each time. I laid my head down on the seat, ass in the air, relaxing as he took over.

He thrust into me, a little deeper each time. I concentrated on the sensations I liked, and decided that the stretching and intermittent jolts of pain were among them. But what I really liked was the feeling of his member sliding in and out. It triggered all those nerve endings in my rectum, and it was pure pleasure.

He slid out, almost all the way, and I smelled more of the lube, felt the vibrations as he coated his whole shaft again. Then he gripped my hips and started fucking in earnest. I closed my eyes and reached back with both hands. I grabbed my ass cheeks and spread myself for him. I had this image of him looking down at me, of him wanting a close-up view of his rod disappearing into me. I arched my back as much as I could. I pressed my tits down into the sofa and grabbed at myself, showing myself off while he fucked me.

He whispered words, most of them profane. I half heard what he said. I was riding along the emotions of being connected to him in that way, and the unadulterated enjoyment of the act.

I think I missed it the first time he said it. There was a phrase, a command that I didn't respond to. He reached out and gripped my neck, squeezing and said it again.

"Touch yourself, Leah. Get yourself off while I fuck this beautiful tight virgin ass of yours."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, Leah. You're so fucking tight, and I'm balls deep in you. I want to feel you cum around me."

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

I rested my face on the couch seat, and reached down with both hands. I spread my lips, and fingered myself with one hand while the other one worked on my clit.

"That's it. Do it. Do what I say, Leah. Do it for me."

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir, yessir." It became a mantra in my head, a set of syllables that were divorced from their actual meaning.

I fondled myself, and rubbed my clit, and arched my back and pushed into him when he thrust into me. We worked in concert and made a symphony of soft sounds and hard breathing, and the ever-present slap of his hips into my ass, and my thighs into the sofa cushion. I climaxed hard, squeezing, curling in on myself, and clutching his cock as he shoved deep in me.

He paused, and I felt the pulses around him going on and on. Just as they started to fade, he started moving again. He fucked me faster and I reached back, holding myself open for him again. Just when my ass started to burn, he shoved in hard, grunted, and shivered. His hands came off my hips, and he collapsed onto me. I fingered myself again, and dragged out another orgasm while he was still inside me. When I came, hard, again, he groaned and sank his mouth on my shoulder. He sucked my skin into his mouth, and his arms snapped closed around me. His hips bucked hard, and then we were both too spent to move.

He laid on top of me. The heat from his body and his musky smell felt like home. Eventually, I felt his cock soften and slip out of me. He knelt down on his heels, and pulled me back with him. Once again, I leaned back and he embraced me. His arms snaked around, enclosing me, and I really wished I'd never have to move.

He shuddered one more time, then kissed the side of my neck.

"That was amazing. You're so wonderful."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I rubbed my cheek on his.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "Yes. I'm great. Flying."

I felt him nod, and he held me a while longer.

Each evening that week he took whichever orifice he wanted. Sometimes all three over the course of the evening. The next was his last week at my hospital, and he promised to test me. He told me it was like a final assessment, to understand what I'd learned, to see what I was really ready for. Some of it was sexual, like me practicing deep throating him. Or he'd have me pose in harder positions, or longer periods of time without interacting with me.

He used me as a lap desk again, and as footstool. He had me kneel near the settee, with my ass high in the air, my nose on the floor, and my hands stretched back toward my ankles. He rested his feet on one of my asscheeks, avoiding my tailbone, while he read or watched some video on his laptop. After a while he told me to hold my labia open so he could see. Other than that, he didn't talk to me. It was strange and uncomfortable; the floor was cold. My knees ached after a while and my arms cramped. But at some point, I drifted into an ocean of calm contentment where the pressure of his heels on my ass was the anchor keeping me from floating away completely. When he told me it was time to leave, I was disappointed.

He tested my patience. He continued controlling my orgasms, either by teasing and denying me himself, or by instructing me to pleasure myself and then commanding me to stop. He never made me ask permission to climax. It was always a matter if whether he'd decided I was allowed to. He was teaching me control; reinforcing obedience.

He started using me with a cold disregard that made the tender moments during each session that much sweeter. He corrected me, rather than providing explanations or instructions. His hands dug and pinched as well as caressed and massaged. I craved every bit of it.

By the end of that week I was emotionally wrought. I knew the next week was his last, and I didn't want the relationship to end. I didn't want this feeling to end. I cried on his shoulder Friday, and he held me in a tight embrace. He consoled me and praised me. I curled up and leaned in on him, letting myself go while he murmured encouragement. His warmth was the salve I needed and the contact I craved. We didn't have sex that evening, but the intimate connection was so strong it was almost like making love.

*~~* *~~* *~~*

By Morning Report on Monday, I could barely pay attention to the information about what had gone on with the patients; I was fixated on the fact that he was going to be gone in five days. I had to clear my head. I got a cup of coffee and found an empty conference room. I sat there in the dark, remembering the past few weeks, and the things I'd learned from him. Then I shook my head hard, and made myself go back to my office and work.

I buried myself in paperwork and finalizing a discharge that was scheduled for the next day. I had to call Dr. James to discuss some details, and I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to speak nonchalantly and that my mind didn't wander too much afterward. It was good to be busy. I did find Julia's nattering on a little more than I could stand, so I went up to the unit to write some notes.

I was in the conference room, which was situated between the nurses' station on one side and a treatment room on the other. In the nurses' station I could hear multiple conversations as well as the usual bustle of clicking keyboards, and the shouts of a manic patient trying to get the doctor's attention. On the other side I heard the internist and a nurse talking softly to an older patient who they were examining. It was the comforting, if distracting, noise that I needed to concentrate.

I'd just gotten on the phone with the daughter of one of my patients to answer questions. Then Dr. James walked in and shut the door behind him. I looked up, raising an eyebrow and getting ready to ask the person I was on the phone with to hold on. But he shook his head slightly. His eyes were slightly narrowed and he moved quickly around the table to sit next to me.

I kept talking to the patient's daughter as I felt him sliding his chair close enough to mine to touch. I felt his hand snake behind me and rest on my shoulder. He leaned in. I stifled a gasp as his other hand landed on my knee and started pulling up my skirt.

I looked at him sharply, and he gave me that same impassive look he'd used that Friday all those weeks ago. I had to ask the patient's daughter to repeat her question.

"I'm sorry, someone just came in the room, and I missed part of what you said."

"Oh no problem," she answered, "I was just wondering if the doctor was done making medication adjustments."

His hand gripped my shoulder, and the other raised my skirt more.

"Um, he hasn't mentioned anything in the past couple of days. But I can ask him specifically when I see him next."

He tugged on my skirt, and without thinking, I lifted up from the chair so he could slide it up further. Now my legs were completely exposed. His hand slipped up my thigh to my crotch. My heart pounded in my ears.

I barely made out what the woman on the phone was saying. Something about the process to find an assisted living facility for her mom.

I stammered as his hand pressed against my vulva and a finger slipped under the leg of the underwear he'd given me.

I swallowed hard and managed to tell her what the usual process was. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth, but his finger demanded all of my attention.

"We, uh, we work with some, um, community agencies too, uh."

His finger slipped deeper, pulling the crotch of the panties down, and sliding over my clit.

I took a deep breath. "So, yeah, we work with some community agencies, and we'll talk to you and your mom about where she might like to go. I've, um..." He rubbed a circle around my clit, pressing the callous at the side of his index finger and then lightly dragging his nail over it.

"I'm sorry, there's just a lot of commotion out in the nurses' station."

"Oh, do you need to go?" asked the patient's daughter.

I almost said yes, but he whispered in my ear. "Keep talking."

I nodded. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. It's fine. So, yeah, anyway. I've talked to your mom quite a bit this week about why the doctor and the rest of the treatment team think an assisted living is a good idea. I was actually a little surprised but your mom..."

He'd been keeping a steady rhythm with his finger, back and forth over my clit, and dipping into my hole just slightly. I think he realized I was managing to compensate, because he stopped that motion, and started rubbing much more quickly.

I held the phone away from my ear and gulped. "Yeah, your mom told me she was ok with the idea. She was, um, a little disappointed. But, oh. But, uh, she said it was worth it to try something new."

He leaned in and licked my earlobe, then added a second finger below.

I breathed out slowly. "Your mom said that she really didn't want to be hospitalized again, and she was willing to try this at least for a while."

His fingers were pumping in me steadily and I felt myself starting to shake and clench around him.

"So, err. So, we'll keep talking to you both, and I'll ask the doctor about medication changes as soon as I see him. Um. We can go ahead and start looking for a place for her, this, um. Week. I think."

His hand was moving rapidly, and I'd closed my legs around him, trying to muffle the sound. I shifted my hips, trying to grind on his fingers, aching now for the release.

"Ok," the patient's daughter said. "Yeah, mom sounds pretty good now. Thanks."

"Ok. Did you have any other questions?"

"No," she said. "Actually, I have to get going, my lunch break is up. Can you call and leave a message after you talk to the doctor?"

"Yes, ma'am. I sure will. Have a good day."

I hung up and collapsed back in the chair; his hand pumped. Suddenly I heard the commotion from the nurses' station. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were glittering and he grinned at me. I clamped my mouth shut and spread my legs, giving him all the access I could.

He thrummed my clit and finger fucked me until I had a quiet, body shaking orgasm, right there at the conference table. He sat back with a proud smile on his face and I quickly slid my skirt down. Then I thought about a wet patch at the back, and slid it back up so that I was sitting on the bottom hem. I hoped that if that part got wet it wouldn't be so obvious.

I watched him lick his fingers off, then he wiped them on the sleeve of my shirt. He slid his chair away from mine.

"So, what was the phone call about?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard any of it.

I managed to start telling him, and that's when the door to the nurses' station burst open. The nurse was just using the conference room as a shortcut through to the treatment room. She halted mid stride and apologized for interrupting.

"Oh, you're not," I said to her.

She looked skeptical, but kept on moving. The door swung open behind her, and Dr. James scooted a little farther away from me. When the nurse walked back through, we were both writing in charts in front of us.

He said without glancing at me, "5pm."

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

That evening he played with me for a long time before we had sex. By which I mean, he wanted to talk while his hands fondled me and explored. First, he had me kneel in front of him and he interrogated me again. I realized he was trying to suss out how I'd changed, what attitudes of mine had changed, in the time that we'd been having this relationship.

Then he told me to come up onto his lap and sit facing him. I straddled his legs and sank down. He had me put my arms behind my back, wrist to elbow, and then his hands roamed all over me. It wasn't particularly stimulating; he didn't concentrate on any one area. He caressed and massaged and pinched and poked and prodded and watched my every reaction.

Then he told me to sit sideways on the couch, with my feet up against my butt and knees as wide as I could.

"Fuck yourself, Leah," he commanded. "Fuck yourself while I watch."

He sat on the floor, so that he was eye level to my pussy, and I leaned back and spread my lips wide. I teased and fingered myself, and almost forgot where I was or that he was watching. When I climaxed, I whined a little louder than I'd intended and my eyes flew open.

He leaned over and licked my cunt, sucking up my lubrication and dipping his tongue into my hole. That was the only time his mouth had been anywhere below my nipples. I gasped and he laughed.

He got back on the couch with me. "My only regret with this situation is that I couldn't make you scream," he said. "I would have loved to hear you full throated, cumming like a good cockslut, begging me to fuck you harder."