Doctor's Orders (BDSM / Medical Play) by Ashley K. Bennet Page A
Authors: Ashley K. Bennet
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whatever I want."
Right then, she should have fled. Even if she had to retreat into the arms of the law, Clara should have done it. Virtually every fiber of her being understood this.
Yet she didn't do it. Clara couldn't do it.
Clara bowed her head as Eric opened the door, touched his other hand to her but, and nudged her inside. She didn't know what to expect. It certainly wasn't what she found on the other side.
A medium-sized room, it could've been a small bedroom or maybe a sitting room. It could've been a nice office, though in its current state no one could mistake it for anything but what it was. A dungeon.
Clara blinked, not sure what to do or say. The improbability of her surroundings gripped her. As she tried to process it all, her brain refused to work. One wall was covered in shelves. Each shelf held different sex toys. There were crops and whips and paddles, muzzles and dildos. A hundred different items waited under the soft lighting, each one ready to inflict a mix of pleasure and pain. That wall almost looked like a candy shop.
But there was more.
Clara swept her gaze across the room. Little by little, she took in the big details like the cage set off in one corner. Made with thick, black metal bars, it would have no trouble containing her. And Clara had no doubt who Eric intended to keep caged there.
Another wall had been covered in shelves. There were bins, each one presumably filled with clothes and costumes. A leather chair, an ottoman, and a grid of metal bars and suspension straps also occupied this space. It was a dungeon, one designed to help facilitate the training and submission of some young woman.
Her.
Clara turned around, speechless yet desperate to speak. Eric seemed to read her body language with ease. He seemed to drink in her hesitation and nervousness. But her feelings didn't stop him when he took her by the hand and led her over to the Ottoman.
Eric sat her down, instructed her to lift her sleeve, and went back to one of the drawers. Clara kept her eyes on the floor because she didn't want to think about what he could do to her the next two days. This kind of thing should've been impossible. How did she get here? Again and again, she considered her situation and each time she came to the exact same conclusion.
She messed up at work. She deserved this.
A much smaller voice at the back of her head, one Clara refused to even acknowledge, whispered an entirely different answer. It suggested that maybe, just maybe, this excited her.
Eric came back with a syringe in hand. "Hold out your arm," he said, clearly unwilling to brook either discussion or debate.
Submitting to his authority, she did it. She lifted his arm and clamped her eyes shut as he took an antiseptic wipe and cleaned the spot above the vein in her arm. He touched the needle to her skin, pressed down, and depressed the plunger. The needle’s bite stung for a moment, but he did this with expert precision. It didn’t hurt for long.
Some part of her wondered why she allowed that to happen. Doing her best to ignore her doubts, she asked, "What did you just give me?"
Eric seemed amused by her question, as though it made him want to smile down at her naïveté. "Just a little something to ensure that your body behaves exactly as I wish."
"Behaves how?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It seemed he had many sides to this personality, not that this information helped her understand what he wanted. "First, we're going to work on your obedience. They give you a little test, and if you fail it I will call the police and our arrangement will come to an end. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl across the room and come back to me.”
He spoke with perfect certainty, as though it were impossible for her to question his commands. In some ways, it felt as though she really couldn't.
Clara berated herself silently, knowing that this was only the first order. There will be others. He
Right then, she should have fled. Even if she had to retreat into the arms of the law, Clara should have done it. Virtually every fiber of her being understood this.
Yet she didn't do it. Clara couldn't do it.
Clara bowed her head as Eric opened the door, touched his other hand to her but, and nudged her inside. She didn't know what to expect. It certainly wasn't what she found on the other side.
A medium-sized room, it could've been a small bedroom or maybe a sitting room. It could've been a nice office, though in its current state no one could mistake it for anything but what it was. A dungeon.
Clara blinked, not sure what to do or say. The improbability of her surroundings gripped her. As she tried to process it all, her brain refused to work. One wall was covered in shelves. Each shelf held different sex toys. There were crops and whips and paddles, muzzles and dildos. A hundred different items waited under the soft lighting, each one ready to inflict a mix of pleasure and pain. That wall almost looked like a candy shop.
But there was more.
Clara swept her gaze across the room. Little by little, she took in the big details like the cage set off in one corner. Made with thick, black metal bars, it would have no trouble containing her. And Clara had no doubt who Eric intended to keep caged there.
Another wall had been covered in shelves. There were bins, each one presumably filled with clothes and costumes. A leather chair, an ottoman, and a grid of metal bars and suspension straps also occupied this space. It was a dungeon, one designed to help facilitate the training and submission of some young woman.
Her.
Clara turned around, speechless yet desperate to speak. Eric seemed to read her body language with ease. He seemed to drink in her hesitation and nervousness. But her feelings didn't stop him when he took her by the hand and led her over to the Ottoman.
Eric sat her down, instructed her to lift her sleeve, and went back to one of the drawers. Clara kept her eyes on the floor because she didn't want to think about what he could do to her the next two days. This kind of thing should've been impossible. How did she get here? Again and again, she considered her situation and each time she came to the exact same conclusion.
She messed up at work. She deserved this.
A much smaller voice at the back of her head, one Clara refused to even acknowledge, whispered an entirely different answer. It suggested that maybe, just maybe, this excited her.
Eric came back with a syringe in hand. "Hold out your arm," he said, clearly unwilling to brook either discussion or debate.
Submitting to his authority, she did it. She lifted his arm and clamped her eyes shut as he took an antiseptic wipe and cleaned the spot above the vein in her arm. He touched the needle to her skin, pressed down, and depressed the plunger. The needle’s bite stung for a moment, but he did this with expert precision. It didn’t hurt for long.
Some part of her wondered why she allowed that to happen. Doing her best to ignore her doubts, she asked, "What did you just give me?"
Eric seemed amused by her question, as though it made him want to smile down at her naïveté. "Just a little something to ensure that your body behaves exactly as I wish."
"Behaves how?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. It seemed he had many sides to this personality, not that this information helped her understand what he wanted. "First, we're going to work on your obedience. They give you a little test, and if you fail it I will call the police and our arrangement will come to an end. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl across the room and come back to me.”
He spoke with perfect certainty, as though it were impossible for her to question his commands. In some ways, it felt as though she really couldn't.
Clara berated herself silently, knowing that this was only the first order. There will be others. He
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