Se connecterInteresting,” he murmured. “Because the other patients said the same thing. At first.” He walked around the desk and stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “You’re shaking, Miss Bastian. And your pupils are dilated. Your breathing is shallow. These are classic signs of residual arousal.”Heat flooded my face. I looked away.“Look at me.” The command was soft but absolute. When I obeyed, he continued, “Dr. Auden has a particular talent for identifying women who respond to authority. Women who need more than standard care. Women who… thrive under intensive treatment.” His hand rested on the arm of my chair, boxing me in. “The question is whether you’re one of them.”My pulse thundered in my ears. This was not the rescue I had expected. This was something else entirely.“I don’t understand,” I whispered.“You do.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small black keycard. “There’s a private suite on the lower level. Fully equip
The door handle rattled again harder this time. My heart slammed against my ribs so violently I thought it might break free. Dr. Auden was still buried halfway inside me, thick and pulsing, his storm-gray eyes locked on mine with dark triumph. The restraints held my ankles wide. My body trembled around him, on the razor’s edge of another orgasm I didn’t want but couldn’t stop.“Doctor!” a male voice called from the other side. Not the nurse. Deeper. Authoritative. “Open this door. Now.”Dr. Auden’s expression shifted for the first time — not fear, but calculation. He pulled out of me slowly, the sudden emptiness making me whimper. With clinical speed he tucked himself away, smoothed his coat, and unlocked the restraints around my ankles. I scrambled to sit up, gown clutched uselessly against my chest, thighs slick and shaking.The door swung open.A man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped inside, flanked by two clinic administrators. His eyes swept the room, lingering a fraction too lon
The next appointment was supposed to be routine. That was what I told myself as I walked into the clinic, legs already weak with anticipation and dread. Dr. Auden’s instructions had been clear in the message he sent the night before: “Wear nothing underneath. Arrive on time. Do not touch yourself.” I had obeyed, the sundress brushing against my bare skin with every step like a constant reminder of how completely he owned my body now.The waiting room was busier than usual. Several patients sat quietly, flipping through magazines. I kept my head down, cheeks burning at the thought that they might somehow sense what I was here for. What I had become.“Blythe Bastian,” the receptionist called. “Dr. Auden will see you in the main procedure room today.”My stomach dropped. The main procedure room? I had never been there before. I followed a nurse down a longer hallway to
The days after that appointment blurred into a fever dream of shame and aching need. I tried to focus on my scholarship essays, on normal life, but every time I closed my eyes I felt Dr. Auden’s mouth on me the slow, torturous licks, the sharp bite on my clit, the way his gloved fingers had stretched me while he forced me to taste my own sin. The memory of another woman’s moans through his office door only made it worse. I was just another patient. Another body he used and discarded.Yet I kept the next appointment.I arrived on time, skin already flushed, wearing a simple sundress that suddenly felt too revealing. The receptionist smiled as if nothing was wrong. “Dr. Auden is ready for you.”The examination room felt smaller this time. He was waiting, white coat on, gloves already snapped into place. His storm-gray eyes tracked me as I entered, a hint of satisfaction in their depths
The third appointment loomed like a secret I couldn’t stop obsessing over. I arrived early, nerves twisted so tight I could barely sit still in the waiting room. My body still remembered the last visit the stretch, the teasing head of his cock, the way he had commanded me to come on just the tip. I hadn’t touched myself since, just as he ordered. The sensitivity was maddening. Every brush of fabric against my skin felt like foreplay.I stood, deciding I needed to speak with him privately before the exam began. Maybe cancel. Maybe demand real answers. My heels clicked down the quiet hallway toward his private office at the end. The door was slightly ajar. Strange moaning sounds drifted out low, feminine, desperate.My stomach dropped. I shouldn’t look. I knew I shouldn’t. But my feet carried me closer anyway. I pressed my eye to the narrow gap.Dr. Auden had a woman bent over hi
The follow-up appointment came faster than I expected. Three days. I told myself it was necessary the pain hadn’t eased, and Dr. Auden’s notes had been very clear about the importance of continuity. But as I sat in the same waiting room, thighs pressed together under my skirt, I knew the truth. My body remembered his fingers. The way he had looked at me while I fell apart on his exam table. The praise in his voice. Good girl.“Blythe Bastian?” The receptionist called my name with the same professional smile. I stood on unsteady legs and followed her to the same examination room.Dr. Auden was already there, reviewing notes on his tablet. He looked up when I entered, and that storm-gray gaze locked onto mine with the same commanding intensity. “Blythe. Good to see you again. How have you been feeling?”“Still… uncomfortable,” I admitted, voice smal







