Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis): A BDSM & Medical Play Series Read Free

overflow; my pussy was moist with need; had been moist for hours now, ever since his eyes first met mine at the lounge. Right now, I just wanted to feel his hard length in my pussy; feel him thrust into my body.
    But he pulled away from me, took a deep breath. “Let me know at any time if you want this to stop,” he said quietly. Then he looked at me again, and there was cool determination in his eyes; he was transformed instantly into someone steelier, more controlled, much more intimidating.
    “Naughty girls get punished, Lisa,” he said, his voice level. He hadn’t bothered raising it. I felt my pussy cream even more as I responded to the look in his eyes; to the tone of his voice.
    “Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice soft and submissive. Oh, but he got the message that I wanted to be spanked loud and clear, and he was playing along with my fantasies. Under my dress, my nipples hardened.
    “You will refer to me as Dr. Anderson,” he snapped, but his eyes were twinkling now, and his lips twitched.
    “Yes, Dr. Anderson,” I mumbled.
    “Very good, Lisa,” he said, his voice approving. “Take off your dress please, and come lie down on my lap.”
    He had taken off his jacket downstairs; he was wearing a white shirt, some kind of muted blue tie, and dress pants. There was deliberation in his gaze as he looked at me, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, rolling his sleeves back. I gulped, a little nervously. He was clearly preparing to spank my ass, and I didn’t know him at all.
    He positioned himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and patted his lap. His lap, where his hard erection was clearly visible through his pants. I reached behind to lower the zipper on my dress; let it fall in a pool to the floor, stepping out of it, towards Patrick.
    When I was younger, I had excruciating acne. It was horrible. Most doctors prescribed drugs, but my hormones weren’t to be controlled. I spent most of my early teen years feeling so ugly I turned into a shadow of my normal self.
    Then, my mother had taken me shopping, one glorious day when I turned fourteen. “I’ll tell you a little secret, Lisa,” she’d told me, leaning towards me conspiratorially, like we were allies against the world, which we were. “Here’s what we’ll do,” and she had taken me to a high-end department store, and we’d spent hundreds of dollars on pretty lingerie, lingerie that transformed me; that made me feel pretty deep down inside, even if my face was covered in blotches. Hundreds of dollars we didn’t even have, probably.
    The acne went away soon enough, but she’d taught me something; I acted pretty when I felt pretty, and lingerie helped me feel pretty. And so, whether I was at a client site, or just in my sweats at home, I always made it a point to wear something sexy. It helped my attitude, and today, it had made me bold enough to send a stranger a drink, and then come home with him. Now, standing in front of him, wearing a black lace panties and a corset that cinched in my waist and raised my breasts so they looked like an offering to the man in front of me, I watched the heat rise in his eyes, and yet again sent my mother silent thanks for her help, so many years ago.
    His eyes took me in admiringly; I could see his cock twitch as my body came into view. “Holy fuck, Lisa,” he said. “You are a vision. All I want to do is throw you down on my bed, and take you hard…”
    “Don’t damage the lingerie,” I mock-joked. The corset alone had cost a small fortune. He laughed. “I promise, the lingerie will be safe,” he said, his lips twitching.  And then, I could see him strive for control; strive to put his desire on the back-burner, so he could satisfy mine.
    He patted his lap again, back in role again. “Hurry it up, Lisa, I don’t have all night” he said, his voice cool; a vivid contrast to the heat in his eyes. I hurried it up; no point annoying the guy who was going to, in a few minutes, give me an