Doctor's Orders: A Steamy Medical Romance Read online

  Then, just as abruptly, he removed his fingers and his mouth and sat back, husking off his gloves and throwing them away, turning to the small desk at the corner of the office. "Just so I'm making myself perfectly clear to you, you are not to orgasm until your next appointment, Catherine." He gave her a firm look. "You are not to engage in anything even remotely resembling sexual behavior of any kind, with anyone, not even your husband. I don't care what kind of excuse you have to make to him. Am I making myself completely understood?"

  Catherine, who was already sitting up, having been freed of her restraints and handed her clothes, replied softly, but with no small amount of anguish as she tried to find a comfortable position that didn't make either her bottom hole or her clit ache terribly as a reminder of her punishment, "Yes, sir."

  "Let's see." Brackett made notes on his tablet computer. "I'll see you in two weeks—considering the severity of your disobedience—but, of course, I want you in here daily getting treatments from Angine or one of the other nurses. I imagine you'll be truly repentant when I see you next."

  The young woman looked truly horrified that she was being made to wait that long for sexual fulfillment, when ten out of the fourteen days, she'd have to undergo embarrassingly intimate, deliberately sensual procedures for at least an hour without being allowed release, and knowing full well that there were no guarantees whatsoever that he would grant it to her even then, even if she had followed his orders to a "t".

  "See Steffie on the way out to make your appointment, Catherine," he reminded, shaking her hand in a calculatedly business-like manner on his way out the door.

  If she didn't think she was going to be in a similar situation tomorrow morning, Darcy might have been more sympathetic to the woman, who looked as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment as she headed for the scheduling window.

  "You are in the doghouse, but good," Angine whispered to Darcy as she passed by her on the way to reception.

  Hoping to hide from him at least until he was in with his next patient, Darcy ducked into the employee lounge, which occupied the entire backside of the building and reminded her of something the Google employees enjoyed, especially in comparison to every other break room she'd ever been in in her life. When she'd first come to work there, she'd wanted to move in. There was everything—free broadband Wi-Fi, cable TV, Xbox 360, fridge with water and ice in the door that was also stocked with everyone's favorite drinks, a separate freezer with free ice cream treats all summer, plus the usual coffee and tea, in a space that had been decorated to resemble a living room rather than a sterile employees' lounge.

  But, of course, he had kept his eye on her since he knew they had an upcoming conversation that he had yet to schedule, so he simply followed right behind her.

  "I want to see you in my office at five, tomorrow morning."

  Darcy was an early bird, but that was going to be tough, even for her—especially considering that she was then going to have to spend the rest of that day—if any of their previous "conversations" were anything to go by—being worked like a dog by him while her ass throbbed as if it was going to fall off at any given moment. And, of course, that's exactly why he handed out punishments before work, rather than after. If he did it after, the miscreant would just go home to soothe herself by rubbing with analgesic lotions. This way, he would deliver "reminder" smacks liberally throughout the day, and he didn't give a damn who saw him do so, either. He'd just wink at whoever it was and say something about needing to keep his girls in line.

  And he was so damned good looking that no one ever took offense, even though what he delivered could not in any way be considered a love pat, and some of the girls—usually the new ones who hadn't learned better not to—even yelped in pain when his palm connected with their behinds.

  Of course, the uniforms he made them wear weren't any help in that area, either. They weren't much of a help in any area. They weren't the usual white polyester. They were spandex, but in a soft, just shy of tasteful salmon pink, and they hugged every single curve you owned, and some you didn't know about. The doctor preferred women who weren't skeletal, and thus, the way some of them—Darcy, in particular, because she was severely gifted both coming and going—filled those uniforms out was awfully close to pornographic in and of itself.

  Darcy had often wondered why women still came to his office, but then she recalled the "special treatments" so many of them got and knew she had her answer.

  "Five tomorrow morning, yes, sir," Darcy knew she was required to say. He felt that if you repeated it back to him, you were more likely to remember it. She wasn't at all sure it helped—the only thing that was going to help her to not be late to that appointment was getting home and going to bed early.

  One out of two wasn't such great odds. She got home at the normal time but found that the anticipation of what she had coming to her in the morning kept her awake most of the night. Of course, that's why he hadn't chastised her sooner. He liked to make his girls spend the night before wondering and worrying about what they had coming to them, then spend the work day wishing they could rub their sore rear ends. It turned a two-hour punishment into a twenty-four or more hour one.

  The next morning, Darcy awoke at four A.M., got dressed in a uniform she made damned sure was spotless, did her make up very carefully and scrutinized herself in a full-length mirror very carefully before she took a deep breath that was full of dread and drove in to work to meet her fate.

  Chapter 2

  He was already there, of course. None of his nurses had ever beaten him to the clinic for a punishment. He seemed to practically live there. None of them had ever been to his home, either. Office parties—and they were legendarily elaborate and lavish, especially for Christmas—always took place elsewhere, usually at one of the better restaurants about town.

  Darcy checked herself again, compulsively, before she knocked on his door. He was a stickler about all of his female staff looking their best. She remembered hearing a tale about one of the nurses he'd hired coming to work in the morning with a stain on her uniform—and the light-colored material showed everything. She had been made to stand naked in a corner of the break room, bent over one of the straight-backed chairs that were always depressingly at hand around the office, her viciously tanned behind—and the rest of her intimate charms as her legs were lashed to the outsides of the legs of the chair—on display to all of her coworkers.

  Rumor had it that there had been a paddle on a table next to her and a sign encouraging her fellow employees to help her to learn to mend her ways and take pride in her appearance, but that part of the story was—so far—unconfirmed.

  Darcy shuddered at the thought just before she heard him say, "Come in, Darcy." She drew a deep breath and entered the room, knowing that the next hour or so was going to be filled with pain and humiliation that—to her immense horror—only made her lady parts contract and swell in perverse pleasure.

  He was behind his big desk, recording notes for patient files to be transcribed later, but he focused his attention on her immediately, his eyes half closed as if he was casually giving her the once over, but she knew better. There was nothing lazy or casual about him, especially not during an employee training session.

  She knew what to do, although the exact routine had taken her a painfully long time to remember. She stood in front of the desk at attention—stomach in, breasts out, straining against the push up bra that was a requirement for everyone on staff. He had designed the uniforms himself, and they had a deep V in front that, in cooperation with the bra, revealed an entirely indecent amount of cleavage, regardless of the woman's cup size.

  And Darcy's overly generous bosom threatened to break free of its restraints every minute of every day, and she knew that he liked that she was constantly worried about just such an occurrence.

  She thanked her obsessive-compulsive tendencies that had made her be just that much more careful with her appearance this morning as he rose and came to stand by
her, circling all the way around her, giving her the once over with a very critical eye, looking, she knew, for any reason to add strokes to what was already a pretty hefty count against her. And not that he had to go looking. There were absolutely no restraints on him—he didn't need to trump up a reason to punish her. He could do so for as long as he wanted, whenever he wanted to, as long as she was in his employ.

  It had been a part of the employment contract that she'd had to sign, along with a clause about needing permission from him to reach sexual gratification in any way, which she rarely did on her own or with anyone else, anyway, so that was no skin off her nose, and a confidentiality agreement that was the size of war and peace. The doctor didn't want anyone telling tales out of school.

  But he liked to find at least somewhat valid reasons for his harshness, and they were usually depressingly easy to trump up. Despite the fact—or maybe because of it, in many cases—that his girls knew they were going to catch very painful hell if they broke one of his rules, they did so with satisfying frequency—especially lateness.

  Except Darcy. She had struck him as a very staunch rule follower in her interview, and that type of person was few and far between, especially lately, and he had wanted her for himself so immediately that his cock had swelled to enormous proportions at that completely inappropriate moment, so much so that he hadn't stood to shake her hand as she left because he didn't want to reveal to her just how turned on he was.

  But he knew that, with her, he had struck the jackpot, that she would take to his particular style of staff training like a duck to water, even more so than the rest of the staff, because this one would have a guilty conscience he could exploit for even the smallest of misbehaviors.

  Like daydreaming in the middle of a patient's exam.

  But he was disappointed to find that her uniform was spotless, as was her makeup—heavy enough to cover any blemishes, but light enough to still look quite natural. Her hair was up in a neat bun. It wasn't the hairstyle he preferred, but he bowed to practicality in that. It was just easier to have them keep their hair back, especially when they were dealing with women in pain—or the ultimate pleasure—who might grab at anything they could to try to get him to stop—or continue—doing what he was doing to them.

  He reached down and lifted the hem of her uniform—although it was already almost criminally short—to see that she was also wearing the prescribed frilly white garter with lace topped hose, as well as a white lace thong, and he could tell that she'd shined the tops of her nurse's shoes, only, of course, they weren't the usual. He'd found a very small shop on the internet that would make exactly what he wanted, which was an almost business like pump in white patent leather, with inch-and-a-half hidden platforms and five inch stilettos. They didn't quite reflect up the way he'd wanted them to, but they were just demure enough to get by the patients and slutty enough that, when he saw them on the long, leggy blondes he preferred to hire, he got harder every single time.

  "Take off your shoes and hand them to me."

  She almost turned and looked at him, almost asked, "What?" because the order startled her so much, but she steeled herself against it and, instead, did exactly as he asked, lifting each foot up behind her to slip them off.

  He inspected each carefully, and she thought she was fine until he turned them over and began to shake his head and tsk, giving Darcy a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that only increased as he spoke. "This will not do, Darcy. Not at all." Instead of giving them back to her, he showed her what her downfall had been. "You obviously buffed the tops; I can see that. But you left the bottoms entirely untouched."

  She could see how dirty they were and that there was gum stuck to the bottom of one of them—but she would never have thought to clean the bottom of her shoes.

  He always came up with something that would ratchet up the level of punishment for her. Always. She didn't know if he did it with the other girls, but he always did it with her. None of her punishments were ever as they had been described by him in the beginning—short, sharp reminders to follow the rules. They always ended up being exactly what this was going to be—long and drawn out, thoroughly and deliberately embarrassing and humiliating.

  She knew that without a shadow of a doubt when she heard a particularly throaty car turn into the parking lot.

  Jared watched her eyes as she realized they weren't going to be alone while she was being chastised.

  This was the first time he was going to have someone else there with her while he punished her, and he was very interested in how she would react to it. She was a strange little thing who kept largely to herself, but he found himself infinitely intrigued by her responses to him, especially considering their strength and the fact that nothing he'd done yet had seemed to deter them.

  He thought she might be a true submissive, although completely untrained, and he intended to cultivate her as such for himself, slowly but surely. He didn't care how long it took, but eventually, he knew that she would be entirely his and the idea of instructing her to that level—where she would obey him immediately and without question, no matter what he required of her—kept him giving her more attention than any other member of his staff.

  But the addition of Angine was two-fold, because not only would he get to see how she dealt with being handled intimately by a woman, but it would also serve to placate Angine, who, prior to Darcy being hired, had been his hands-down favorite.

  Darcy knew she was supposed to remain stock still—at attention, with her head forward—until she was told to do otherwise, and she did, although her eyes were wide. She began to breathe much more heavily, and her now bare feet itched to run out the door and never come back. But the bills she had received in the mail last night danced through her mind, and she knew she was going to stay right where she was. She didn't want anyone else to witness her complete mortification—how he managed to reduce her, in a humiliatingly short amount of time, to the level of a trapped beast trying to free itself from its tormentor—least of all Angine, who she already knew didn't like her and would definitely enjoy seeing her that way, if only to lord it over her later and probably crow to the rest of the staff about what a baby she was.

  There was the politest of knocks on the door, and the doctor answered it, greeting Angine warmly and thanking her for taking the time to assist him with Darcy's continuing education, as if this was some sort of class that was sanctioned by the licensing board.

  Her answer was depressingly eager and delivered in a smarmy tone that had Darcy cringing inwardly. "It's my pleasure, sir. I'm always ready to help a fellow employee excel in your service."

  The doctor smiled down at Angine in a way he had never done with her. "Darcy is still relatively new, as you know, and as such, I feel I have to be a bit stricter with her than I might be with one of you who has been here for a while, so that she knows I mean business and that I intend she will be as dedicated and obedient as you are." He turned his attention to the young woman who was still standing in front of his desk. "Please remove Darcy's uniform. Leave her garter and stockings, but nothing else."

  She had been exposed in front of the doctor before, which was bad enough, but never one of the other nurses. But before she knew it, Angine was in front of her, reaching for the white zipper pull that hung enticingly between her breasts and drawing it all the way down until it unhooked from itself. The material was stretched so tightly around her that it burst open. All she had to do was slip it off the other girl's shoulders and Darcy was left there as Angine hung the uniform in the doctor's closet so as not to rumple it.

  Then she returned to nestle a cold finger between Darcy's breasts, behind the front bra closure, bringing it forward so as to unlatch it, as the young woman's generous endowments exploded out of their confinement. Darcy bit her lip and closed her eyes against the flood of pure mortification, but she opened them again on a yelp as the other woman's fingers and thumbs reached out to viciously pinch her distended nipples.

 
"You do not close your eyes during a punishment, Darcy, no matter what's being done to you or by whom," she corrected harshly.

  "I-I'm sorry."

  Her grip on those very sensitive points didn't lessen in the least. "That's not at all what I want to hear. Try again."

  Panicked that there were now two very demanding, dominant personalities she was going to have to please if she didn't want to end up spending the entire day like this, being disciplined to their hearts' content, Darcy did her best to say what she thought was wanted. And when she remembered that she knew that neither Angine nor the doctor cared whether or not she was sorry, because they were going to use this time to make her sorry, she said quietly, "Yes, ma'am." She felt thoroughly degraded to call someone who was barely three years older than she was "ma'am", but she felt it was right somehow, nonetheless.

  "That's somewhat better." Angine turned to the doctor to await his command.

  "You know what to do next, Angine. Put her into the correct position."

  The correct position? Darcy thought. He'd always just taken her over his lap, except for one time he'd draped her over the back of a chair.

  The other young woman went immediately to the doctor's desk and cleared it off completely, attached some sort of pillow like gadget at one end, flipped up what looked like padded restraints from under the rim of the top points of the desk, then grabbed Darcy with a firm hand around the back of her neck, guiding her roughly over to the newly padded edge and pressing her head down so that she had no choice but to bend over it.

  The width of the pillow that had been strategically positioned in front of her forced her onto her tippy toes and brought her backside into such prominence that Darcy didn't even want to consider what an obscene picture she presented to the two of them. It was somewhat peaked in the middle, which caused her legs to fall open even further than they would have naturally, causing her to expose her intimate secrets merely by virtue of her position. A strap was applied across the back of her neck, holding her head down, and her arms were extended in front of her, as if she was flying, and anchored there with eerily comfortable cuffs that felt as if they were made of velvet pillows but with the strength of steel. She tugged experimentally on them and there was absolutely no give in them.