Doctor's Orders Ch. 01

I needed some extra cash. That's why I was sitting in a large meeting room of a hospital at 8.a.m on a Sunday morning. The research I was participating in was quite simple: it mainly required filling out some paperwork, some surveys and questionnaires. It had something to do with both neurology and psychology, as a young doctor standing in the front of the room was explaining in more scientific terms. I didn't care. I just wanted to get paid, but that wouldn't happen until I had attended the five required weekly meetings and this was just the first one. The pay was above average, though, and I had already decided to stick through with it.

There were about twenty other participants, all looking as grumpy and tired as I was feeling. None of them seemed particularly interesting. The research was apparently led by the young doctor, who was currently explaining the details of our participation. The first thing I had noticed about him was his annoying voice that was slightly arrogant and somehow stood out, filling the room. As I looked at him more closely, I realized that he truly had a striking appearance. He had full, wavy brown hair that was quite wild, sticking up in all directions even though he probably had tried to comb it this morning. His blue eyes had a sharp, intelligent look and he was slim with a good posture. He had the look of someone who was constantly pissed off. I liked him at once.

By the second meeting, everything about the young doctor was gorgeous to me and I already called him "my schoolgirl crush" in my mind as he was obviously unattainable for me. I was at least ten years his senior and even though he had no ring it was highly unlikely a man like him would be single. Besides, I hadn't even spoken to him, as the meetings mostly consisted of him giving instructions to us as a group and then us filling out the surveys. His demeanor was strictly professional and impersonal. As a realist, I was content just admiring him from afar, admiring his slim hands with long fingers as he was handing out some papers and pretending to listen as he spoke at the front of the room.

I was feeling more nervous than I should've been. Last week we had had our final meeting and the only medical examination of the research: a CT scan. The small tube of the CT scanner had made me nervous and the examination was carried out by some other doctor I didn't know. Now, however, I was going to get my personal feedback from my "crush". I didn't know why, but it was the last prerequisite for the payment. It was late afternoon and the hospital was quiet. The CT scan felt nothing compared to the feeling I had when I opened the door to the room I had been directed to.

"Good day," the doctor turned around in his chair and looked at me neutrally.

We were apparently in his personal office, which was small and neatly organized except for several stacks of papers and files on his desk. So much for the paper free office.

Despite every sensible thing I had tried to tell myself, my heart was beating out of my chest as I dryly replied, "Good day, doctor."

He gestured me to sit on a chair opposite of him and began, "I know we both are busy and you actually happen to be the last one to get feedback, so let's get to business, shall we?"

After I nodded, he managed to squeeze out an impersonal smile and went on, "So, as you remember, our study is, simply put, about the individual neurological makeup every person has at birth and the processes that either weaken or strengthen those, let's call them characteristics, as we get older."

I nodded, fully fixated by his eyes.

"For the sake of the research, what we didn't tell you during the execution was that the research is actually focused on sexual characteristics -- or more specifically on sexual fetishes and disorders."

I felt like I was frozen on my seat.

The doctor didn't break the eye contact as he went on, "I have to say, out of all the participants, your results were, as we say in research slang, at the far end of the Gauss curve - meaning unusual."

"Y-yes?" I weakly replied, my heart pounding wildly now.

The doctor didn't even break the eye-contact as he recited a text that was apparently a part of his research notes or something similar, "On a closer inspection, the subject Q363's CT scan displayed several abnormalities in these areas, which might suggest the origin of abnormal sexual preferences has been present at birth and those preferences might have, to some extent, been displayed in some form already at a young age. The written surveys further suggest that these preferences, although not necessarily openly displayed, might most likely have strengthened during the lifetime of the subject. More notably, out of all the participants, the subject displayed an unusually vast range of potential sexual fetishes. The Q363 ranked the highest on the scale of following fetishes: bondage, submission, humiliation, exhibitionism and non-consensual sex. In addition, the subject had unusually high scores in terms of sexual denial, lingerie, group sex and voyeurism fetishes."

The doctor finished and looked at me as if expecting for an answer. I didn't reply as I was astonished and didn't know what to say. His words felt like a rude invasion of my privacy and despite being gorgeous, the pretty boy had certainly overstepped all possible limits.

Before I had uttered anything, he surprised me by saying, "Look, I divulged this many details out of personal interest. I have a suggestion for you."

I The subject becomes an object

I swore to myself for the umpteenth time. I was considering making an U-turn for the fifteenth time. I questioned my life choices and life up to this point yet again. Still, I was driving towards his house. "He" was the young doctor, of course.

His suggestion had been simple. He thought we could have a mutually beneficial agreement. He wanted to be dominant, and I was obviously fit to be, "I don't want to use that word, but some might say 'a slave'", as he had said. The doctor had had a few rules on a paper he had handed to me (on paper! I still couldn't believe he was so well-prepared). By now, I had burned the paper and learned them by heart, as he had instructed.

They were:

1. You shall call me master.

2. You shall only speak when spoken to.

3. You shall never under any circumstances stalk or spy or research the master in real life or online.

4. You shall receive the instructions for the next meeting as agreed.

5. You shall never contact the master.

6. The meetings shall happen at the same, agreed location.

7. Both parties are guaranteed their privacy.

8. Both parties are allowed to terminate the contract at any time. The termination is non-renegotiable.

9. The safe word is "crimson". Using it shall terminate the contract.

10. Failing to appear at a meeting shall terminate the contract.

11. The termination of the contract doesn't remove clauses 3, 5 and 7.

I was still astonished that the doctor had had the nerve to hand me that paper right there at his office. I had pinpointed that there was barely anything "mutual" in the agreement. His reply still ringed in my ears, "Look lady, I don't need your bullshit. I know what you are and I doubt you have truly ever acted upon your real character. I know you want me, I have seen you looking. So either take this paper or walk out of this room and never come back."

Taking the paper had felt like (and probably was) a deal with the devil, but here I was, driving towards his house in a long overcoat with nothing but lingerie underneath. I must be crazy, I told myself once again. What if I end up cut in pieces in a barrel in some junkyard? Or get blackmailed? Not for the money, for sure. Or most likely, as a funny number, a joke at someone's bachelor's party?

I had to admit to myself that besides being a deviant, I had agreed to the so-called contract simply because I was bored -- or more like sexually desperate. I had broken up with my ex, Damon, about four years ago. Partly, my heart still ached for him, but then I always remembered he had been a bore -- also in the sack. After Damon, I only had had a couple of embarrassing drunken one-night stands and a few failed dates.

My hands were trembling slightly and I had to focus on not speeding. The last thing I needed was to be pulled over. As a random thought, I thought about how it would be, being taken in handcuffs to the nearest police station and being exposed as someone would eventually require me to take off my coat. The set of lingerie my future master had required me to buy was of a black, lacy type. The brassiere had ultra-low cups that left breasts mostly exposed, and the garters and the flimsy bits near the hips only accentuated the fact that there was really nothing to cover the crotch. As I imagined taking the coat off slowly in front of an observing police officer, I suddenly realized I was soaking wet.

Whether I liked it or not, I had arrived to my destination. I still could turn back, terminating our contract at doing so, but I knew I wouldn't. I put on the black high heels he had instructed me to wear and approached a gate, which opened as I approached it. The house was not a mansion but not far from it either, something you could buy if you had a doctor's salary. The garden was quite large and I could see a glimmer of a pool at the distance. As I approached the spacious porch, the door opened and my young master greeted me. He was wearing a stylish dark gray bathrobe and had a glass of red wine in his hand. He beckoned me to come inside.

The house seemed to be quiet and empty, except for us. There was only a light tune of jazz coming from somewhere. The decor was almost minimalist, but done with an excellent taste. There weren't any personal photos or memorabilia, but there were signs of a woman here and there. I had already suspected it, but now I knew for certain he didn't live alone. However, I couldn't ask him anything as it would be against the rules.

My master lead me to a dimly lit living room and sat on a sofa, but didn't ask me to sit. He stared at me with an inexplicable expression on his face. For a moment, I was anxious that he had concluded that I was too old and ugly after all.

However, he ordered, "Take off your coat, spread your legs and put your hands behind your neck."

"Yes- yes, master," I corrected myself at the last minute.

Taking the required position, I stood before him as he stood up and approached me. He looked at me closely, inspecting my full, firm breasts and long, hard nipples that stood out, begging for attention.

However, he didn't touch me, but ordered, "Turn around, bend forward and spread your legs a bit more".

"Yes, master," I replied as I exposed my bare backside to him.

Once again, I felt his gaze wander over me, even though I couldn't see him. I knew he saw my big ass and my complete arousal. I also hoped he was happy that I had gone through the pain of waxing, removing most of my hair, as he had instructed.

"Turn around," I heard his next order.

As I obeyed, I saw the master sitting on a sofa with his legs spread. He was no longer wearing the bathrobe. My gaze fell on his full erection. It was apparent what was expected of me.

I swore to myself for never having learned the oral arts properly. Damon had had the sexual drive of a garden snail, and my two boyfriends back at the university hadn't required any warm-up. Now I was doing my best emulating a vacuum cleaner or lollipop licker or something. Nevertheless, my master was horny enough and soon I was swallowing it all.

"Thank you, master," came out of my mouth as if it was the most natural thing to say.

"You can leave now," the master said nonchalantly.

I wanted to scream, "That's it?!?", but restrained myself at the last minute. Instead, I meekly replied "thank you, master", put on my coat and left.

When I returned home, I masturbated myself to an orgasm three times. I fantasized about him, about how things could've and should've gone that night and eventually even about the cops pulling me over. The next few weeks were both among the best and worst weeks of my life on a fully individual level. Compared to my usual self, I felt like I was on a sexual overdrive, masturbating frequently. I even went so far that I regularly wore a micro mini skirt and an XXS-sized crop top in the privacy of my apartment. Even though no-one could see me, I felt extremely sexual as I walked around knowing that most steps would expose my pantiless crotch or slip too much of my chest to view. These "private walks" always ended in furious masturbation sessions.

Besides the raw sexual energy I was feeling, I was extremely anxious. I hadn't heard about my master for almost three weeks and my uncertain side said he had given up on me. My sensible side said that it would be downright stupid to revisit him anyway. However, my devious dark side longed for him, and I was devastated at the prospect that the most boring outcome of nothing ever happening felt likely.

II Doctor's appointment

Finally, after over three weeks, I received the long-awaited SMS, which strangely was the agreed-upon way of communication. The master required me at his house at 8 p.m. sharp and required me to wear the same set of lingerie. I was at his house already twenty to eight, but knew better and waited in my car until one minute before.

The master beckoned me over as I was once again standing in his living room in my lingerie. He was wearing tight black boxers and nothing else. As I sat on his lap, facing him, I felt his semi-erected cock through the fabric. I sighed deeply as he planted his lips on my engorged nipples. I ran my hands through his full hair as he licked and sucked them. Finally, he placed his long fingers on my eagerly waiting sex. He clearly knew what he was doing as his fingers rolled over my clit, and after a few minutes I was more than ready to receive him. A soft moan escaped my lips.

However, the master ushered me off him and lead me to a bedroom. The room had a large bed, but otherwise it was somewhat sparsely decorated, more like a guest bedroom than a master bedroom. He gently pushed me on my back on the bed and, somewhat to my surprise, produced a rope and expertly frog tied me with my thighs and calves tightly tied together and my wrists tied to my ankles. As I realized I was fully spread with little possibility for movement, I felt hornier than I had ever felt in my life before. I had never tried bondage, but I had known I had the kink within me for a long time. The look was finished with a silk blindfold the master placed over my eyes. Then he left.

Only a few minutes passed before I heard him return. My anticipation was through the roof. I heard him approach me and then felt him remove the blindfold.

I yelped as I saw a completely unfamiliar man before me. I must've looked completely bewildered because he gently stroked my hair and then put his finger to his lips as a sign of silence. I suddenly remembered one of the rules: to speak only when spoken to. The following silent moment left me some time to register my situation. The stranger before me seemed to be wearing only his doctor's coat and to me, it seemed like it was truly his profession as well. In appearance, he was completely different compared to my master. He was taller, he had neatly cut blonde hair, narrow light-blue eyes and ever so slight stubble. He was clearly closer to my age, but when he smiled as he looked at me, he looked boyish.

I could do nothing as "Dr Strange" wrapped his hands around my thighs and licked my inner thighs. I felt horrified he would see and smell how aroused I already was, but it didn't prevent me from whining when he finally licked my hard nub. It took me only a few moments to realize that this man really knew his business. After all clumsy, lame and non-orgasmic experiences I had had from oral sex before, this man suddenly took me somewhere where I couldn't control myself -- and being restrained all I could do was to receive his administrations.

"Ohhh...Ohhhhhhh!" I arched my back as I came, trying to escape from his touch.

Dr. Strange didn't leave things there. Intensely, he licked me to another orgasm within minutes again. I could do nothing but moan aloud. After that, he gently pushed two of his fingers inside me and resumed licking me. He kept his pace slow, at times stopping his fingers and tongue, then resuming and eliciting weak moans from me. When I finally came, legs shaking and throbbing against his fingers, my orgasm was so strong I thought I would faint.

I felt exhausted and even embarrassed because the bedsheets were completely soaked under me. Nevertheless, when Dr Strange removed my bindings and removed his coat, exposing his erection, I spread my legs as a sign of willingness to participate. Without a word, he came over me, but his hands on my hands and pushed himself inside. He was gentle. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him closer, as he was panting and moving his hips in the most ancient act. He started to deeply moan as I purposefully began to contract my muscles around him. He pushed his hips strongly a few times, releasing all he had. Even I had a small orgasm, which was unusual for me in this way.

After the act, I was left alone on the bed. Somehow, I knew I wasn't supposed to go out of the room on my own. Dr Strange had left the door open and I could hear him and the master talk in a low voice. After a short while, I heard a door close and a car start outside. A bit after that, the master came to the room.

"You sounded really sexy. My colleague told me you came three times, is that right?"

"No, master, I came four times, sir," I blurted. Honesty was one of my major weaknesses.

"So, you even came from his cock. No wonder you look so well-fucked," the master commented in his cynical tone.

Changing the subject, I burst out, "I thought I was guaranteed my privacy! It was in the contract!"

"I don't see any breach in the contract. Everything happened within the privacy of these walls and my friend is reliable -- he won't utter a word to anyone. Or, if you feel otherwise, you can always terminate the contract," the master replied, looking at me with a serious expression.

He knew I wouldn't leave. I didn't reply as I was still so astonished. After that, he dismissed me.

For the next few days, I felt emotionally unstable. I was angry at him, because he had degraded me completely, offering me to his friend. I was angry at myself, because deep down I had enjoyed being used immensely. I was horny and regularly masturbated, thinking about the events of that night and forming new fantasies. I was disappointed, because I still felt like I was missing something, something I wanted -- and that something was him, my master. I felt envious and worried: what if he would never contact me again? What if he already had somebody else to serve him? Over the next few weeks, the feeling didn't subside. I knew I was crazy, but I wanted to go to him like a moth to the flame.

III Receiving the doctor

It was still too early for leaving, but I was already wearing the outfit. Finally, after over a month, my master had contacted me and invited me over for next Saturday. The outfit I had been required to order for the visit was outrageous and as soon as I had received it, I had put it on and touched myself to orgasm. However, the master had ordered me not to touch myself for five days prior to the meeting, so I had to content myself with looking in the mirror and feeling ever so horny. I had to admit, I enjoyed seeing my perverted visage. As instructed, I was wearing a high ponytail and light make-up. The outfit was a rude mockery of a cheerleader's uniform. It consisted of an itsy-bitsy blue top that barely covered half of my breasts and had a tacky orange "69" as a number, an orange micro mini skirt that just barely covered the front and left most of my ass exposed and two blue fake fur bracelets obviously mimicking pom poms. Every time I moved or bent myself ever so slightly, I inevitably exposed my rock hard nipples or my bare pussy. I really wanted to touch myself.