Doctor's Orders

Sometime around lunch, I realized that I hadn't been thinking about him, and that I hadn't been thinking about the mess in my underwear. I realized I'd stopped wondering what he was going to do with them. It was like I had two entirely separate lives, and they'd intersected for a brief moment that morning, only to diverge again. The rest of the day flew by.

I walked out with Julia, right at 4:30PM. She nattered on about her weekend, and some annoying thing her husband had done. I got in my car and left. I drove around the block and then realized I didn't know where I wanted to go to kill an hour and a half. I knew I didn't want to drive home, that was a little too far. I went to a drive through and picked up a burger. I drove to the parking lot of a strip mall and waited there. I wolfed down my food, then regretted keeping the onions on the burger. It was just past 5PM. I had a little less than an hour, and it would take about five minutes to drive back to the hospital.

I remembered my other task. I felt secure in my car, far away from the buildings. There weren't any other cars around. But just as I'd decided to shove my hand down my skirt, someone parked next to me. I decided to drive back to the hospital. He'd said to leave on time, and he'd said when to be at his office. He hadn't said I had to stay away until then. I parked in a different parking lot than I usually used, a small one around the back of the main building. I was able to get in an entrance that no one would likely be paying attention to.

I climbed the stairs and went down the hall with his office. It was quiet and someone had turned off half the lights in the hallway. I walked down to the women's bathroom, looking at each office to see if any light came out under the door. I didn't see any; I didn't hear any sounds of people in these offices. I went into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

I hoisted myself up onto the sink, and braced my foot on the nearest wall. I could spread my legs wide that way. I looked at my watch; it was barely 5:40PM. I started pleasuring myself, really taking my time to work up my arousal. I dipped a finger in and smeared my juice all over the crotch of the panties. I used the finger to shove the panties inside me. I rubbed my clit in small circles, pressing down and letting off. I repositioned my legs and managed to shove more of the fabric in my hole. I felt so filthy, so deviant, and so very aroused. It felt wonderful to be acting this way, to be doing these things, to be obeying him, and risking whatever it was I might have been risking. I rubbed harder and faster; my breath hitched in my lungs. I exhaled through my nose. I clamped my mouth shut tight, and fingered myself.

I fucked myself with two fingers, and rubbed my clit. I laid my head back and the arm holding me up shook. I breathed hard, in and out through my nose. My head spun and I thought of him. I imagined him again, fucking me, what his cock would feel like inside me, what he might say. I climaxed hard, much harder that the little orgasm from the morning. I shook, and my hand slipped, and I almost fell off the counter, but I managed to grab on. I closed my legs and squeezed them together, trapping my hand as the last throes and spasms washed over me. I leaned back, my head resting on the mirror while my breathing and my heartrate slowed.

I checked my watch. It was seven minutes to six. I slid off the counter, leaving my panties crammed up inside me. I arranged my skirt and shirt. When I opened the door, he was leaning on the wall directly opposite the bathroom door.

I paused, unsure if that was good or bad. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he moved one hand slightly, pointing back toward the bathroom. I stepped back and let the door close. He waited a moment, then came into the room.

His eyes were blazing, and I couldn't tell if it was anger or lust. I backed up, butt against the counter. He stepped to me and wrapped both his hands around my neck, holding my head. He leaned down and kissed me ferociously. There was no subtlety or tenderness. It was raw, wanton, need. It was pure power. It overwhelmed me. He bent me back, grinding my backside into the counter as I tried to press back into him.

He broke the kiss long enough to yank up my skirt and shove his legs between mine. Then he bent back and his tongue invaded me and it was all I could do to hold on. He broke the kiss again and picked me up, depositing me on the counter and spreading my legs wide.

He stared at me, one hand wrapped around the back of my neck, while the other jerked the fabric out of me. Then his mouth found mine again and I gave in. I pressed myself to him, I opened my mouth wide, I wanted him inside me. I wanted his tongue, his fingers, whatever he would give me. While we kissed, he shoved three fingers deep in me, catching the fabric and pushing it back in too. He fucked me, pumping hard, our mouths mashed together, and he didn't let up with his hand or his tongue until I had another orgasm. Until I clenched around his hand and my hands clutched at his shoulders, and my hips bucked and I trembled, shuddered, jolted hard enough to almost knock both of us over.

He left his fingers deep inside me until the spasms stopped. He let me rest my head on his shoulder. I could feel his erection pressing on my thigh. I wanted it, I wanted to wrap my hands or my legs or at least my mouth and engulf his cock with my body.

I sat up straight, looking at him. His eyes looked like banked coals, glittering in the harsh florescent light. He used the hand at my neck to lean me back against the mirror. His hand at my crotch slipped out slowly, pulling the fabric with it.

"Give me these," he said. I knew exactly what he meant.

I pushed up with my arms, lifting my ass. He slid the satiny panties down, and they were soaked. I could see the color change, even though the fabric was black. I straightened my legs and he slid them the rest of the way off me. He rolled them up and put them in his pocket.

He sighed. "If we had privacy, Leah. If I thought we could get away with it. I'd strip you naked and make you crawl." He stroked my cheek. His voice was soft, low. "I would make you crawl down to my office, and I'd make you wait out there. I'd make you beg me to let you in."

I was blushing, red faced and excited about that prospect.

"As it is. With the cameras." He shrugged. "It's not worth the trouble you would get in."

I reached up and stroked his cheeks. I ran my thumb along his lips. I didn't want the evening to be over. He stepped back from me.

"I'm going to leave. Wait ten minutes and then come to my office. The door will be unlocked. Present yourself. I hope you remember how." He looked me up and down. "I'm not done with you yet."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."

I waited. I waited, staring at my watch, willing the hands to move faster. When the time elapsed, I walked, as normally as I could manage, to his office. I went in, and he was sitting at his desk, typing. He didn't look over at me. He didn't acknowledge that I'd come in. I stood next to the bookcase and took off all my clothes, folding them neatly, and placing them on the highest shelf. I added my shoes and then went to the spot in front of his desk.

I stood for a moment and thought about the other day, I thought about how my body had felt once he'd put me in the position he'd wanted. There was a clock in my head, ticking away a time limit to do as he'd said. I assumed the position, as close as I could remember. When I stopped moving, I breathed out slowly and fixed my gaze on his face. He kept typing.

When he was done writing whatever it was, he sat back in his chair. He looked me over and got up without so much as a word. He inspected me, fitting his fist between my thighs and grunting when the spacing was narrower than he'd instructed.

Then he walked back to his desk chair and sat.

"Come over here, Leah."

I went to him. He'd moved away from his desk, pressing his chair up against the window. I hesitated when I got to him because the space was small.

He turned slightly in the chair and pointed under his desk. I looked and saw what looked like a yoga mat spread out there.

"That's your spot this week. Kneel down there."

It was the first time he'd said something that I wanted to balk at. It was so objectifying, so potentially degrading. I'm supposed to hide under his desk, and what? I looked at him, and he had that same impassive look he'd given me in the conference room. When he'd pressed his leg to mine and prevented me from scooting away. I was going to do what he wanted. I couldn't let myself contemplate what would happen if I didn't.

I squatted down and crawled into the space. I knelt and spread my knees as wide as I could. I felt my head brushing the bottom of his desk and was glad I wasn't taller. I put my hands behind my back and he rolled his desk chair up, blocking my exit.

He sat with his legs spread, slouching a little. His erection was obvious in his pants.

"You know what to do, Leah. Get to it."

I shuddered. Suddenly I was aroused again and too focused on pleasing him to be disturbed by my reaction. I unbuckled his belt and unzipped him. As soon as my mouth touched him, I heard him start typing again. I pulled him into my mouth, and I did all the things he'd taught me. He rewarded me by shifting around, rolling his hips, fucking back when I moved on him. At some point he stopped typing and I felt his hand on its familiar spot around the back of my neck. I'd been practicing, and I managed to take his full length. I pressed my nose against his pelvis and opened my mouth as wide as I could. I stuck out my tongue and tapped his root.

His hand clamped down on my neck, and he groaned, not quietly. I stayed there as long as I could and when I had to pull off, he released his grip. I looked up at him and his eyes looked darker than usual, like his pupils had dilated. He stared down at me and I smiled. Then I deep throated him again and held on longer.

That's when he started talking. So softly I could barely hear him. He encouraged me, he praised what I did right. He praised me for being willing, for exploring my sexuality. He told me how wonderful it was to have someone who'd give herself up to him. He kept asking rhetorical questions about whether I liked what I was doing, and what drove me to act this way. I was half hypnotized by his voice. He kept his hand on my neck and guided me. He guided me down, holding me when he wanted to be far inside me. He guided me up, letting me pull off of him completely to breathe deeply. His hand pulsed on my neck, telling me to move faster, suck harder, waggle my tongue more quickly. I heard his breathing change; I felt his cock twitch and his balls shifting and I knew he was about to cum.

I started to pull off, but he held me down. I settled for bobbing my head in short strokes while his glans hit my soft palate. Then his hand spasmed and he grunted again, and I felt his hot wad spurt and splatter. I coughed and almost gagged, but breathed through my nose and swallowed without thinking. I swallowed and swallowed with his cock still jerking and spurting inside me.

My eyes went wide. I was horrified at myself. I was supposed to hold it in my mouth, show him what he'd done. I was supposed to wait to swallow. But it was instinct. I'd had to, to be able to breath.

Then I felt that gentle, reassuring tap on the side of my neck. I started to pull off of him, but he held me still.

"Just try to look at me, Leah. Or at least listen."

I nodded with his softening cock still deep in my mouth.

"It's ok. You didn't do anything wrong. Tonight, I want to stay in your mouth until I'm flaccid. We're going to stay, just like this, for as long as I want. You're going to keep your mouth closed around me, not let anything drip out. If you need to swallow, go ahead. But you'll stay attached to me, like this, until I say otherwise."

I nodded again.

"Good."

His cock was softening, shrinking and I slipped my mouth down, as close to his root as I could. It was an odd sensation, this deflation. I couldn't figure out what he could possibly like about it. But I realized it wasn't up to me to wonder about that. I made myself as comfortable as I could, leaning forward, with my face buried in his lap. He stroked my hair and I felt him shifting, like he was leaning his head back. I felt drool building up in my mouth and I swallowed without thinking. The suction moved his penis around, and my tongue shifted, pressing up on his underside. He let out a long sigh. He stroked my hair some more, and I found myself drifting in some foggy headspace where I felt disconnected to anything but him. A huge wave of contentment washed over me and swept away any concerns or worries, any questions or doubts about what was right for me. I closed my eyes, and nestled my head into his lap.

Then he shifted in his chair again, tapped the side of my neck a little more sharply.

He said, "Alright. Put me away."

I pulled off of him, keeping my lips sealed around and slurping up my saliva as I went. I handled him with care, slipping his flaccid penis back into his pants and zipping up slowly.

"Go sit on the sofa."

I crawled out from under the desk and found my legs a little shaky. I shook out all my limbs and then sat down. He followed me over, but sat in the chair in front of his desk, facing me directly.

"We have to step some things up, I think. Blow jobs and finger fucking are all well and good, but that's not really what you want is it?"

I didn't know how to answer that question. On the one hand, no. I didn't really just want that. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to see his naked body and arouse him and get pummeled by him with the same force and desire he'd shown in the bathroom earlier. But, more importantly, on the other hand I wanted that feeling again. That feeling of utter calm I'd had when I shut off my brain and just let him deal with my body however he wanted. I stared at him. He stared back. I realized he expected an answer.

I gave him the best one I could. "I really want you to do whatever you want. However it pleases you."

He sat back in his chair, and I couldn't tell if I'd said the correct thing.

"Are you on birth control?"

"Yes, sir."

"What?"

"The shot, depo provera."

"Hmm," he said. "Ok. How long?"

"Three, no, four years."

"Really." He tilted his head sideways, his gaze gliding down my body. "There's a pretty common side effect to that."

I knew what he was talking about. "Yes. And yes, I haven't had a period since a couple of months after the first shot."

He smiled. "Good. Beautiful." He sighed again. "You really are beautiful, Leah. You're so beautiful I want to make you cry."

I laughed. Maybe that only made sense because of the situation and the relationship. I wanted him to make me cry, too.

He slid back, giving me space. "Go clean up, and get dressed."

I went into the half bath and repeated what I'd done the other day. He watched me dress and once again patted the sofa for me to sit next to him. He held both my hands in his.

"Ok, this week. I'm going to leave my door unlocked. You are to leave the building promptly at 4:30PM, unless you have a real, work related reason to stay. Something I would know about in advance. Drive off the campus. Go somewhere, I don't care, but long enough for most people to have left for the day. Then come here and let yourself in. Put your clothes where they belong. If I'm in here, present yourself. If I'm not, wait under my desk."

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

That's what happened the rest of that week. I did crave more. But I did as he instructed. The days he was there when I came in, he ignored me for a while, then gestured for me to come over. The days he wasn't, I waited in my hidey hole, ears pinned for the sound of him. Each day I'd take him flaccid in my mouth, wait until he signaled, then work to make him hard. I'd fellate him, swallow his cum, and wait as he softened in my mouth again.

Friday came, and I got no special instructions from him. He was halfway through his time at the hospital, and I wondered for a moment if what I was doing was worth it.

*~~* *~~* *~~*

That Monday was busy. We'd gotten several new patients over the weekend, the other psychiatrist was out sick, and so Dr. James had to cover everything. A discharge plan for one of my patients came together more quickly than I was expecting, and that person wound up leaving that day. Suffice to say, neither Dr. James nor I had any time to even think about any extra-curricular stuff. Since I hadn't heard anything different from him, I did the same thing I'd done the week before.

I left on time, drove around for a little while, and then went to his office. The door was unlocked, and he wasn't there. I did as he'd instructed previously, I stripped and secreted myself under his desk. Then I waited. I stared at the partially obscured view; I daydreamed about him coming in and ravishing me. I even allowed myself to daydream that when his contract ended, he'd decide to renew, or something. I'm pretty sure one version of that fantasy involved him taking me back to New York with him.

He still hadn't showed, and I waited some more. My knees started hurt. I got cold. I waited. I got annoyed, then angry, then worried. I waited. I wracked my memory to think of any contrary signal he'd given me, any sign that I was supposed to do anything else. I filled up with embarrassment and berated him in my head. But I waited. I told myself to leave. I told myself he was just an asshole. I told myself I was an idiot. And I waited some more. My stomach growled, and I waited. I needed to pee, but I waited. I could tell the sun was setting. I waited.

Finally, when I really had no choice but to get up to use the bathroom, I did. I looked at the clock on his desk and saw that it was after 8PM. I'd waited for him three hours. I figured there was no way he was still working. Then it dawned on me that I didn't even know what his car looked like, to see if it was still in the parking lot.

I dressed, furious at myself, ashamed, annoyed. I felt like the worst kind of cliché. I went home.

The next morning, I swear he smirked at me during Morning Report. I flipped him off under the table and pointedly ignored him.

He called my office just after lunch. I had been in the middle of a discussion with Julia about one of her patient's behavior, and how that would affect his discharge plan. I didn't even look at the caller ID before I picked up.

"Social Work, this is Leah."

"Leah." For once the sound of his voice only irritated me.

"Dr. James, what can I do for you?"

"Oh. So, Julia's right there is she?"

I was so not in the mood for this. And yet he still had that pull.

"Yeah, we were just talking about Mr. Bishop."

"Oh. So, how long did you wait last night?"

I wanted to call him a bastard, but I bit down on my lip. I thought about how to say it and still sound casual.

"Oh, I think it was about eight."

"Oh. Only a few hours then. You know, Leah, I had this hope that I'd find you under the desk when I got in this morning. I spent all night thinking about what it would be like. I nice blow job, first thing in the morning. Your hot throat surrounding my hard cock. Fucking your face."

"Well, yeah. I just don't think we can make that happen right now."

He kept talking like I hadn't even said anything. "Just knowing that you'd waited all night. That you'd be tired, sore, cold, but that you'd endured it all just because you were doing what I wanted. I had a lot of fun, last night, imagining that."

"Sorry to disappoint." I'd meant for it to be sarcastic, but it actually sounded sincere.

"You'll make it up to me."