Recovery (Doctor Dom Volume 5) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella)

by Tara Crescent

  The past was the past. But my present was amazing, and the future was bright and filled with promise. I couldn’t wait. “So, Patrick,” I teased him. “Do you want to help me pack all my stuff?”

  He kissed me thoroughly, and it was a while before he answered my question. “Not even a little bit, Lisa,” he said. “That’s what movers are for. I have better things to do with my time.” He nibbled at my earlobe, and I moaned and moved closer to him.

  “Like making love to me?” I asked him.

  “Very, very thoroughly,” he promised.

  I reached forward and moved the plate in front of Patrick out of the way. Then I stood up and stretched my hand out in invitation. “That sounds like it would take a lot of time,” I said. “Shall we get started now?”

  He laughed at me, his eyes warm. “Ah, Lisa,” he said. “So fucking perfect. Let’s get started now indeed.”

  Epilogue

  Exactly a year after that first day…

  Lisa:

  Yes, I knew I was supposed to be perfectly honest with my Dom all the time. And I was. I was so much better at asking for what I wanted.

  But still, telling your Dom that you wanted him to stick his fist up your pussy? That thought had filled me with deep embarrassment, and each time I tried to summon up the courage to tell him, I lost my nerve.

  I should have remembered that Patrick was the most observant person I had ever known. And I should have never used his laptop when I was too lazy to go upstairs to find mine.

  “Lisa,” Patrick glanced at me as we entered our house. We’d been out eating dinner at our favorite pub, the one that served only curry. It has become our place; we ate there at least once a week, and the bar staff knew us by name. On the one-year anniversary of the day I’d gone home with the stranger at the vodka bar, we couldn’t think of a better place to have dinner than the bar we’d had our first real date at.

  I raised an eyebrow at his tone.

  “I looked at my browser history the other day,” he said. His lips twitched as he struggled to keep his amusement under control. “Anything you want to tell me?”

  Ah, crap. Caught. Though I wasn’t sure how much of that had been accidental. After all, I did know how to clear my browser history, if I wanted to keep my online searches strictly private.

  I blushed. “Umm,” I started, my fingers curling around a strand of my hair, and my toes crossing automatically. Patrick wouldn’t think I was weird, would he? “I’ve been watching fisting porn on the Internet,” I confessed.

  He laughed openly at me. “Yes, I’m quite aware of that,” he said dryly. “Keep talking.”

  Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides, it’d be a heck of a memory of our one-year anniversary. “Please, Dr. Anderson,” I asked him. “Will you fist me?”

  He smiled, a slow and sexy smile that had the power to set my insides fluttering, even after a year. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  ***

  He sent me up to our bedroom, and he stopped at the examination room to grab some lube. “I’m nervous,” I said, when he entered the bedroom.

  “Why?” he asked me with a raised eyebrow.

  “What if it hurts?”

  He rolled his eyes at me, and I bit back a grin at his expression of exasperation. “Do we ever do something that we don’t enjoy in the bedroom?” he asked me. I shook my head. One year in, and our sex life was still smoking hot. I had to pinch myself sometimes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  “No, we don’t,” I replied.

  “Then, get naked,” he instructed, “and get a pillow under your ass.” I obeyed, and cooperatively spread my legs for him.

  “Well, hello there, Ms. KitKat,” he said, getting on the bed, and addressing my pussy. I promptly dissolved into giggles.

  “Did you just call my pussy Ms. KitKat?” I asked, sniggering.

  He grinned up at me. “She needs a name,” he said cheerfully, and I giggled again.

  “Do I get a say in naming her?” I snickered. “Ms. KitKat, indeed.”

  He frowned, though his eyes were laughing. “I happen to think that’s a very good name, Lisa,” he said, pushing two fingers into my pussy, and resting his thumb right on my clitoris.

  My giggles stopped instantly, and I bit my lip at the sensation that radiated from my pussy through the rest of my body. So good. Patrick pulled his fingers out, and pushed back in, and this time, I felt a slight discomfort.

  “How many fingers?” I asked, and he chuckled.

  “Just three, sweetie,” he said. “Relax.” His mouth lowered on my clitoris, and I exhaled in pleasure. Oh, Patrick’s tongue on my pussy always felt so good. I closed my eyes, and desire fluttered through my body.

  “You like that, baby?” he asked, strumming his tongue on my clitoris. I bit my lip as I reacted to his touch, and I writhed as arousal flooded through every inch of my body.

  “Again,” I breathed, and he cooperatively repeated the movement. I ran my fingers through his hair, and gripped him tight. “Don’t you go anywhere,” I threatened, and he chuckled.

  “I should tie you up,” he said, amusement etched in his voice. He raised his head and looked at me. “Hold the bars of the headboard,” he ordered. “Don’t let go.”

  I obeyed with a smile, then wailed as his teeth gently nipped on my clitoris. I ground my hips into his mouth and pleaded for him to do that again.

  His fingers had been pumping in and out of me while I was being distracted by his mouth. He pulled them out and smiled at me. “You are doing great, baby,” he said, squirting a generous amount of lube into my pussy, and an equal amount of lube on his right hand. “I’m going to slide four fingers in, until the second set of knuckles, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said. I was slightly nervous, but mostly, I felt loved and cherished by Patrick.

  His hand entered me steadily, and I hissed as a sharp, burning pain filled me. “Relax,” Patrick’s calm voice soothed. “Just breathe.”

  I obeyed, letting my head fall back and taking a deep breath in and out. He held his hand still as I relaxed, and then, he moved his hand out of my pussy, and trickled on more lube on his knuckles. “I’m still just at four fingers, Lisa,” he said easily, as I felt his fingers enter me once again.

  This time, there was less pain. I felt full, and yet I wanted more. “Go deeper,” I gasped, as he pushed into me. I parted my legs even further. “Ah Patrick. That feels so good, don’t stop...”

  “I’m not planning on stopping,” he assured me. “This is such a beautiful sight, baby,” he said. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to blow my load in my pants.”

  I bit my lip and stifled a moan. The idea of Patrick, who was always calm and self-possessed, losing control to such an extent was a huge turn-on.

  “More,” I begged as he rotated his fingers in my pussy, coming in contact with every inch of my vaginal walls. “Please. All of it.”

  He lifted his head to look at me. “Say it,” he ordered. “Don’t beat around the bush.”

  My embarrassment had left me as soon as he had pushed his fingers into my dripping pussy. I smiled at him and winked. “Fist me, Dr. Anderson,” I grinned and he laughed out aloud, and bent to kiss my clitoris.

  He withdrew his hand, and squirted more lube into my pussy, and coated his hand generously as well. Four fingers went back inside, and then, I felt a burning as my muscles stretched to accommodate his hand. “I’m curling my thumb into my palm so it fits easier,” he said, and the play-by-play commentary sent further lust cascading through my body.

  I just grunted and keened. Everything hurt, but I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to lean into the pain, embrace this feeling of complete fullness. My moans sounded like that of a wounded animal, but Patrick didn’t flinch away. He just pushed, steadily, his other hand on my mound to hold me steady until finally, my vagina yielded and his fist was in me.

  “Are you in?” I asked for confirmation.

  “Fuck yes,” he replied. He r
arely sounded possessive, but I heard it at that moment in his tone. I own you. I didn’t blame him. His hand was in my vagina. At that moment, he did own me.

  “I’m going to start moving,” he said. “Relax. Lie back. Enjoy.”

  I giggled. “You make it sound like I’m getting a massage,” I said.

  He laughed. “An internal one?” he suggested. “Now, do as I tell you, please?”

  I smiled at him and inclined my head back. My moans filled the room as he started to move his hand inside my vagina, and a wonderful flood of sensation absolutely overtook me. “Patrick,” I groaned.

  “Touch yourself,” he said. “Make yourself come.”

  I was happy to obey. He moved and twisted his hand, and I arched and moaned, and my fingers strummed faster and faster on my clitoris, moving in tight circles until I twisted and flailed and shouted as I came.

  He pulled out gently as I slowly recovered, and I flinched as sharp pain found me as he pulled out. He came to lie next to me, and I whimpered and snuggled. “Give me a second,” I whispered, “and I’ll take care of you.”

  He shook his head. “Rest, baby,” he said. His lips twitched. “I can take care of myself from time to time,” he quipped.

  My eyes gleamed. “Will you do it in front of me?”

  He laughed. “Whatever my baby wants,” he said dryly. He shed his clothes, and lay on his back next to me, and his hands stroked his dick. I lay on my side facing him and watched his face, savouring the expression in his eyes as he got closer and closer to orgasm. It didn’t take long; he growled a muttered curse and spurted all over his stomach.

  He moved his arm, and I lay with my head on his shoulder, completely and utterly sated. “That was lovely,” I muttered finally. “Ms. KitKat sends her thanks.”

  He chuckled. “I knew you’d come around on that name,” he replied, getting up to get a washcloth.

  ***

  “Lisa?” Patrick’s voice woke me from the nap I’d fallen into when he was in the bathroom. He’d got back in bed, and he lay next to me, and I curved automatically into him.

  “Mmm,” I groaned. I was exhausted from the sex, and I didn’t want to make conversation. “I thought you didn’t do pillow talk,” I complained, snuggling deeper into his body. He was spooning me, and I just wanted to be allowed to sleep.

  He laughed. “Baby,” he said. He moved his arm away from my waist for a second, then deposited something on the sheets in front of me. “Look.”

  There was a slight tension in his tone. I opened one sleepy eye and saw a ring in front of me.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, his hand tightening around my waist once again.

  “Patrick,” I accused, coming further awake and trying not to laugh at the timing of his proposal. “Did you ask me today so that you’d only have to remember one date for our anniversary?”

  He chuckled, a sweetly sheepish sound. “Guilty as charged. I did warn you I’m not a romantic,” he said.

  I stretched my hand out, and picked up the ring. “Aren’t you going to place it on my finger?” I asked him, struggling to contain the smile that was breaking out across my face.

  “Am I to take it that you are accepting my proposal then?” he asked me dryly, his fingers sliding the ring on my ring finger.

  I turned towards him, and kissed his neck. “Of course I am,” I said. “Was it really in doubt?”

  He laughed at me. “No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t. Is the ring okay? We can change it up if you want.”

  “The ring is perfect,” I told him. “Now, Patrick, I’m going to bed.”

  He smiled, and pulled me into his body as I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me. “Sweet dreams, love,” he said.

  End Notes

  Dear Reader,

  That concludes Lisa and Patrick’s journey! I really hope you enjoyed reading the Doctor Dom series as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  If you’d like to keep in touch, please visit my website to sign up for my new release email alerts. I hope you’ll also leave a review with your thoughts on this book – I can’t wait to hear what you think of it!

  I’d also like to share an excerpt of another book of mine – The House of Pain. It features Patrick’s friends Doug and Sara, and tells the story of how they got together. Read on!

  Happy reading!

  Tara Crescent

  http://www.taracrescent.com

  The House of Pain

  Text copyright © 2013 Tara Crescent

  Sara White is outwardly a good girl; she follows the rules; works in a professional office; has a boyfriend who treats her with consideration. However, deep inside her, there’s a craving for pain, a desire to be spanked and whipped, to be submissive, to be controlled.

  One day, she walks into the House of Pain, a sex store in Toronto that also does shows in the back, where women are whipped and spanked in front of an audience. Transfixed by the idea, she signs up.

  Doug Patterson has met Sara at work, but discovers a whole new side of her when he sees her at the House of Pain. He approaches her and suggests Sara become his submissive. Sara is attracted to Doug; but afraid of complication.

  Will Sara surrender to Doug, and yield to her desire to be submissive?

  Contains BDSM, flogging, anal sex, and much more...

  *****

  Read on for an excerpt from The House of Pain…

  “Did you like getting whipped at the House of Pain?” His words pull me back to our conversation.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like being tied up?”

  “Yes,” I whisper again.

  “So, what concerns you?” There’s no impatience in his voice. He’s trying to understand.

  “I don’t like the idea of being obedient, submissive.”

  “Are you submissive in bed?” he asks bluntly.

  I flush. “Sometimes. But I’ve always had a choice; I don’t have to be submissive.” I’m explaining myself badly. I think I’m afraid I’ll lose my ability to choose. That my submission will not be a choice I make, but the expected behaviour from me.

  Doug listens as I try to explain this. Finally, he raises a hand and interrupts me.

  “As I see it,” he says, “you are trying to run before you can walk. These things, everything you are worried about – the nature of submission, the boundaries of the submission, they are complicated things that every couple negotiates over time.” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes me and continues. “Right now, I think we should be more concerned about the hard rules – things you have no interest in doing in bed, things you definitely want to do, that kind of thing.”

  He’s right. Besides, as he said, this can be a one-time thing.

  “No blood,” I say. “No permanent damage. No caging.”

  “Ok.” We quickly agree on the basics; set me up with a safeword. Red.

  “I really have only one rule, Sara,” Doug says. “One that applies to both of us, really. Open, honest communication. If something isn’t fun, say so. I’m pretty sure that we can find enough things that we will both enjoy.”

  “Ok,” I say, softly. I am once again a bundle of nerves. I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.

  He senses my nervousness. “Sara, it’ll be fine, I’m not a jerk,” he says wryly. “Look, do you want to do this some other time?”

  “No.” I don’t think I’d have the courage to go through this again. Besides, I broke up with Colin because of this dark chasm in me. This is my opportunity to explore it a little bit.

  “Can I get a glass of wine?” I ask him.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “Liquid courage?” he asks with some amusement. “Red or white?”

  “Whatever’s easier,” I say. Doug opens the refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of white wine and pours me a glass. I take a sip. It is light and refreshing; a perfect summer wine. I take another sip.

  “Let’s go back to the living room,” he says.

  ***

  In the living room,
Doug sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. He pulls me close, one hand encircling my waist, the other tracing a gentle line down my cheek. He runs a thumb over my lower lip; an incredibly erotic touch that has me shifting restlessly in his lap.

  “Want to do this?” he whispers in my ear, catching my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling it lightly. Little tendrils of arousal run through me, replacing the nervousness. I shift in his lap again. I can feel his erection against me, and I bite my lip. His body feels good, really, really good.

  I nod. Yes. I want to do this.

  He pulls me closer and kisses me. His mouth is initially gentle on mine. I sigh softly. I haven’t been kissed in over five weeks and I miss it. My mouth parts slightly and lets him in. That’s the signal Doug’s been waiting for. His lips are suddenly more insistent, his tongue pushes into my parted mouth and dances a delicious duet with mine. His free hand traces idle lines on my bodice.

  I moan. Doug’s hands are, in their own way, creating a fire as insistent as the whip. My body tingles in pleasure and lust. I move into him; bring my hands around his head to draw him in, still closer.

  “No,” he says softly, pulling away from my mouth for an instant. “Let me set the pace, please.”

  Aah. The first demonstration of control. But he doesn’t order me. This is a request, not a command. I nod. I can do this for him. My hands remain at my sides.

  He bends his head again, pulls my mouth onto his. He’s nibbling my lower lip now, softly, and the feeling of his teeth on my lip is awakening a deep hunger in me. I moan and shift restlessly.

  “Keep still, baby,” he mutters. Again, not an order, but again, I obey.

  His hands are now running lightly over my breasts. I want to shrug off the straps of my dress, lower the bodice so that his hands will caress my bared breasts but I hold still. His fingers are dancing a little waltz on my bared arms, tracing a pathway along my exposed cleavage, running a fiery line along my thighs.

  I part my thighs. Doug chuckles. “Keep still, baby,” he says again.

  His mouth now is trailing little kisses on my neck. I love being kissed on my neck. It’s my secret erogenous spot, one with a direct line to my pussy. I feel the familiar stirrings as he kisses me. The familiar dampness. I bite my lower lip and moan.