Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella)

by Tara Crescent

  He chuckled at my expression. “Seriously, Lisa, you have to stop feeling sorry for me. My life was a piece of cake compared to so many people. So anyway, my father threatened to cut me off. I told him he was welcome to do whatever he wanted with his money. I withdrew from college, bought a ticket to India. I stayed in India for almost a year, then went to Nepal and backpacked there for another six months. Then China for two years. Mongolia for another six months. Then, I came back home.”

  “You went to pre-med?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Somewhere in my travels, I realized how good I had it. How much I had compared to most of the world. It helped knock the chip off my shoulder. I’m not saying that my parents didn’t neglect me, because they did. But I was also pointlessly angry about the situation. Traveling helped me realize this.”

  I surveyed him silently. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me about BDSM.”

  He laughed aloud. “That’s quite a topic shift,” he said wryly. “My introduction to kink, you mean?”

  I grinned and nodded. I wanted to know everything about Patrick, and it was rare that he spoke about himself so openly. I was going to take advantage of this talkative mood.

  “There was this girl I dated for a while in China,” he said. He smiled, remembering. “She liked to be spanked. Tied up. Taken hard. I was twenty one. I was just thrilled to be having sex with a beautiful woman who would let me do almost anything to her.” He grinned. “It just grew from there, I guess. I kept exploring. Plenty of sleeping around in college and after.”

  “How much exploring?” I asked him curiously.

  He grimaced. “You name it, I’ve very likely done it,” he said. “Medical school was filled with women who thought being tied up and whipped was excellent stress relief. I was very happy to oblige.”

  I laughed. I wasn’t fazed by how much he’d slept around in the past; I’d had plenty of sex myself.

  “Okay,” I probed. “Have you had a threesome?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Is that the kinkiest thing you can think of?” he asked me. “Yes.”

  “Two women?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I had a threesome with two submissive women once. That was a disaster. But two Doms and a sub – that’s a dynamic I’ve enjoyed more than once.”

  “Why was it a disaster?” I was curious.

  “Well,” he said. “If you think about it, a Dom expends a lot of mental energy keeping a sub at a particular state. Balanced between pleasure and pain. Just at the edge of arousal, not tipping over. It’s insanely hard to do that with two women. Someone’s going to be neglected.”

  “Ah. And two Doms?”

  He grinned. “Twice the amount of focus.”

  I shivered. “That sounds intense,” I said.

  “Want to try it?” he asked. His tone was interested.

  “Would you be okay with that?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never shared a woman I’ve been in love with. I have no idea how I’d react. But if you were interested, I’d consider it. And if we did go through with it, I will certainly behave myself, and not be a possessive jackass.”

  I grinned. “Not anytime soon,” I said. “Baby steps. I’m really only just comfortable with you dominating me.”

  He laughed. “I’ll quit worrying about it then,” he said. Our food appeared, and we dug in for a few minutes in silence.

  “Okay, what else have you done?” I asked him. It was exciting hearing about Patrick’s secret life of kink. I felt like I was watching some particularly exciting porn. “Have you ever fisted someone?”

  “Vaginal or anal?” he asked calmly, and I nearly choked. He laughed at my reaction. “Your eyes are as wide as saucers, Lisa.” He chuckled, and ate a forkful of food.

  I flushed. “Seriously? You’ve done both?” I sounded a bit shocked.

  He chuckled again, and he shook his head. “Vaginal, a few times. Anal, never. I know this is going to sound pretty hypocritical of me, given I have no problem putting my dick in your ass, but the idea of my fist there makes me a little squeamish, to be honest.”

  He looked at me evenly. “Are you interested in being fisted?” he asked me, taking another bite of his food.

  I gulped. “Will you judge me if I say yes?” I asked him. I was both scared and intrigued by the idea of being fisted. My internet porn history could attest to that.

  He rolled his eyes. “Did you judge me when I told you I’ve done it?” he replied. “No, of course not, I’m not going to judge you, baby.”

  A thought struck me, one that made me feel suddenly depressed. “So Andrea and you must have done a ton of stuff together,” I said. I tried to keep my jealously out of my voice. I failed terribly. I could hear myself. I sounded disconsolate.

  He shook his head. “Most of this is pre-Andrea,” he said. He made a face. “With Andrea…” he hesitated, and then continued. “Without discussing my marriage in any kind of play-by-play fashion, I can tell you we did very little together. I’m happy to play with a partner that I can trust to be honest about their limits. Right from the start, when she hid what she wanted from me, it was hard to trust her. She really wanted to be my slave. It freed her from any responsibility for her own safety, which made it even harder for me to trust her. If you can’t trust someone, you can’t really play with them easily. The Dom/sub dynamic is mostly about trust, and our dynamic never recovered from the loss of trust.”

  Which reminded me, I hadn’t asked him how she was faring. I felt like a terrible person. “How’s Andrea doing?”

  “Better,” he said. “The signs are promising. She’s still in a coma, but she’s showing periods of consciousness. Eyes still unfocussed, but greater periods of wakefulness. It’s too early to tell what recovery could look like.” He sighed. “Best case scenario, she’s got a long road ahead in rehab.” His voice was bitter. “I wish they’d catch this guy, and I hope he rots in prison for what he did to her.”

  His mood turned pensive, and as insecure as I was about Andrea’s role in his life, I couldn’t blame him. We ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, chatting occasionally about something trivial. At the end of the meal, I reached for the check, and gave him a look, daring him to protest. He laughed and raised his hands defensively. “Thank you for dinner, Lisa,” was all he said with a grin. “Want to come over to my place?”

  I hesitated. “I have a really early morning meeting with a client,” I replied. “And I don’t have any clothes with me.”

  He looked at me. “You are welcome to leave some stuff over at my place,” he said.

  “I could,” I replied. There was more hesitation in my voice.

  His gaze narrowed. “What’s the hesitation about?” he asked me directly.

  “I wish we’d hang out at my place more often,” I said. Until I voiced the words, I didn’t realize it had been bothering me that we tended to hang out at Patrick’s place, not mine.

  He looked puzzled. “I have no objection in coming over,” he chided. “You just have to ask, you know.”

  I did know. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t very good with asking for what I wanted in a relationship. I had no problems articulating what I wanted sexually. But where my emotions were concerned, I was a lot more diffident. I’d been the same with Nick. I’m not sure I’d ever really voiced what I wanted from him.

  “Will you come over to my place, Patrick?” I asked. My head was reeling from my realization.

  He smiled at me. “I’d love to, Lisa.”

  ***

  Our lovemaking was sweet and tender. No games, no toys. Just two people enjoying each other’s bodies. He kissed the entire length of my body as I wriggled and moaned, and then I pushed him on his back and straddled him.

  “Stay there,” I told him, and he laughed.

  “Playing Dom tonight, Lisa?” he asked, amused, and I grinned at him.

  “Would you mind?” I didn’t really want to play Dom, but I did want to hear his answer.

&n
bsp; “Depends on what you have planned for me, sweetie,” he replied. “If you wave a flogger at me, I confess that I might bolt.”

  I giggled. “Really?” I couldn’t see it.

  Patrick laughed. “Nah. I mean, I have no desire to be flogged, but I have tried it before. I wouldn’t use it on a sub if I had no idea what it felt like.”

  “Well, Patrick,” I winked at him, and took his wrists in mine, moving them above his head. “I’m not going to flog you, but keep your hands there.”

  He grinned at me. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. I definitely heard a sarcastic undertone in his voice, but I decided to ignore it. If we’d been switching, I might have taken steps to correct the behaviour, but I really didn’t want to be a Dom. I just wanted to explore his body.

  I nibbled and sucked my way down every inch of him, discovering a ticklish bit on his inner arm that had him biting his lip to keep still. “I like this,” I announced gleefully, and he made a face at me.

  “Just you wait, kitten,” he said, smiling at me. He kept his hands where I’d positioned them though. “It’ll be your turn soon, and you will regret this.”

  “Promises, promises,” I mocked, and he laughed aloud. Then his laughter was cut short as my breasts brushed over his dick, almost by accident, and he stifled a moan.

  “Do that again,” he ordered, and I laughed and complied.

  “You know, you don’t get to give the orders tonight,” I pointed out.

  “Is that so, kitten?” Patrick arched an indulgent eyebrow at me, and I winked at him and laughed. I was having such a good time. This was perfect. I wanted and needed Dominant Patrick. But, sometimes, like at this moment, it felt great to laugh during sex. To tease. To be relaxed. I very much appreciated that Patrick was playing along. More than that – he wasn’t just humouring me. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself as well.

  I wriggled my way down his body, and took a long, leisurely lick at his cock, following the motion with another graze of my nipples on his erection. He growled in response, and I smiled, leaning forward to grab a condom from my dresser drawer.

  “That’s very prepared of you,” Patrick noted appreciatively.

  I winked at him. “Not just a pretty face, baby,” I responded, and he chuckled.

  “No,” he said, “there’s a pretty pussy in there as well. Let me see it, baby. Part your lips and show me.”

  “Bossy, bossy,” I chided, but I obeyed, and flushed as he hissed his arousal. His cock jumped underneath me, and I giggled again, opening the condom wrapper and rolling it on his hard cock. I swivelled my hips around his erection, rubbing the head of his cock against my pussy lips a few times as he growled his impatience with my teasing. Finally, I pushed down, and his entire hard length filled me, and I whimpered as each and every nerve ending in my pussy came alight with pleasure.

  Patrick moved his hands to place them on my hips, and I shook my head at him. His lips twitched, and he let his hands drop away. “Payback’s going to be such a bitch, baby,” he said, his tone slightly mocking. I just laughed at him.

  “I like your payback,” I told him, raising and lowering my hips in a steady rhythm. I leaned forward slightly, and Patrick seized the chance to pull a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling it till I groaned, and pulled his hand up to place it on my other breast.

  It was his turn to laugh. “What would you like me to do with this hand, Lisa?” he enquired. Amusement danced in his eyes.

  “Pinch my nipple,” I ordered, my voice breathy with need. His eyes darkened as he complied, and I groaned and ground my hips against his cock. My hands moved to my clitoris. One hand parted my pussy lips so that Patrick could watch, and the other rubbed tight circles on my aching clitoris.

  Patrick groaned, a noise that vibrated against my nipple. “You are so beautiful,” he bit out, his words muffled by my breast. “Keep doing that.”

  I couldn’t have stopped at that moment. My fingers moved, faster, with increased desperation, matched by the speed of my hips gyrating against him. He straightened me. His hands gripped my breasts, and his eyes stayed on my pussy, and his look of hot lust was enough to push me over the edge.

  “I’m coming,” I moaned, as I exploded, muscles clenching around his dick, and he laughed and his hands finally stayed on my hips, and he firmly kept my rhythm against him going until he too ground his teeth and erupted in climax.

  I purred, and climbed off him, and slumped in bed by his side. His hand reached out towards me, and he laced his fingers in mine. “Was that okay?” I asked him.

  “Slightly better than okay, I’d say,” he responded with a smile. “Planning to make a habit of it?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. You are definitely the Dom. I was just goofing around.”

  He grinned at me, and his grip on my fingers tightened. “Goof around anytime, that was great,” he said. I giggled and he chuckled, and I snuggled against him, till he groaned and got up to dispose of the condom.

  I grumbled a little and moved reluctantly when he came back. “I just made a nice, warm cocoon,” I protested, and he laughed and kissed my neck.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  “Mmm,” I replied. My brain wasn’t really up to forming words yet.

  “Shoot me down if it’s too soon, or if you aren’t up for it. But are you on birth control, and if you are, how do you feel about getting tested, and then possibly dispensing with the condoms?”

  I turned to him. “I am on birth control,” I replied. “Neither of us is sleeping with anyone else. If we get a clean bill of health, sure thing, I’m game.”

  “Birth control isn’t fail-proof,” he warned. “Do you want kids, Lisa?”

  “Whoa,” I said. “Intense conversation alert.” My heart sped up underneath my flippant words. My answer could be a deal-breaker for us. When you were our age, there was a clock that tended to tick pretty loudly. If we weren’t on the same page on this, we’d be done. But, if there was one thing that it seemed pointless to lie about, it was this. This was just too big a deal.

  “I’ve never wanted them, and I’ve never not wanted them,” I replied finally. “It’s never been a priority. I’ve never felt that clock tick.” I gulped. “Is that a deal breaker of an answer?”

  He shook his head. “No, of course not.” His voice was calm. “I’m exactly the same way. If it happened, I’d be happy, but my life is pretty good right now.” He paused for a bit, before continuing. “I’ve been the unwanted child, so I do know that any decision about children isn’t one made lightly.”

  He’d given me a perfect safe space to bring up my questions of where this relationship was going. I bit my lip, and my voice was hesitant, but I forged on. “Since you brought up kids, can I ask, what does it mean to date for you? Do you ever want to get married again? Never want to get married?”

  He turned to look at me. “I want to be with you,” he replied simply. “We’ve only been together for a little over a month. But I see us on a long-term path. If that path for you eventually means marriage, then marriage. If you never want to get married, then that.”

  “I’m sorry, tell me again, how are you single?” My grip on him tightened, but my voice was openly skeptical. Patrick was utterly perfect, completely gorgeous, and really, really nice. Add in the dominance, and I had no idea how some woman hadn’t snapped him up already.

  He laughed. “Ask my therapist,” he quipped. “She’ll tell you that I’m a very flawed human being.”

  If he had flaws, he was keeping them very, very hidden. “You have a therapist?” I asked curiously.

  “Sure,” he said promptly. “Jackie’s helped me work through a ton of things.”

  “Do you talk about me?” I asked, and then blushed as I realized how self-involved I sounded. “Sorry, that’s a completely ridiculous and vain question. Please forget I said it.”

  He chuckled and rolled over, pulling me into his arms so I was spooning him. “I haven’t seen her in a while, but
I do need to make an appointment. And Lisa?” His voice was amused. “You are a pretty important part of my life, so I’m sure you’ll come up.”

  “Should I be reassured or threatened by that?” I asked, my tone light. I was only half-joking.

  He leaned in and kissed my neck. “Didn’t you say you have an early morning meeting?” he chided. “Go to sleep, baby.”

  Chapter 11

  Patrick:

  I thought I’d been ready to date in the two years after my marriage to Andrea was officially over. Heck, I thought I’d been ready to date in the three years we were effectively separated. But, until Lisa, I’d never found anyone I wanted to be with. At this moment, I realized I probably had been far less prepared to date, far more wounded than I had realized.

  Lisa and I, we were moving quickly. Today, I’d told her to leave some clothes at my place. I hadn’t told her that every night we spent apart seemed oddly incomplete in some way. I wanted her to move in, and only some external societal timetable about how soon you were supposed to ask had made me hold my tongue. That, and the fact that in a few weeks, she was going to supervise tearing my place apart as part of the renovation we had planned.

  But given how quickly we were moving, I wanted to make sure that every single part of me wanted this. No subconscious reservations. Add it to the list, Anderson, I thought. I was amassing quite the list of topics to talk to Jackie about. My thinking of Lisa as the anti-Andrea. My inability to tell when I was ready to be in a relationship again. My ability to finally be able to trust again.

  I’d been in love once, and I’d moved too quickly, and my marriage had ended in shambles. This time, I would do this right. This time, my head and my heart would be aligned. This time, my trust would not be betrayed.