Page 22 of Doctor's Demands
“That wouldn’t be fair. I wouldn’t even want you to do that. Do you know what I really want?”
“What?” I ask her as I think about her sitting on the bed, legs crossed in an Indian fashion, twirling her hair around her finger.
“I don’t want this to interfere with your summer plans and I don’t want you to get another sub. Let the plan be the same as it was before I figured out who you were.”
Curious about how she was able to figure out who I was so quickly, I ask, “Petra, just how did you figure that out?”
“I recognized you in the hallway. Your longer hair had me stumped for a moment, but then I pulled your face out of my mental file and there you were—Dr. Owen Cantrell from a show I watch a lot of. I’ve had a little crush on you for four seasons.”
My chest fills up with an odd feeling. I’ve never been shy, but it feels kind of like that. “Okay. So, you also had my voice in your head then, too, didn’t you?”
“Well, truth be told, when I saw you, I hoped and prayed you had bid on me and would win me. I kept telling myself, when I was thinking that was your voice I was hearing, that I was just fooling myself into thinking it was you. And your name just came out, unintentionally.”
“I suppose my leaving cemented it into your head,” I say as I shake my head and think about all the things I could’ve said that would’ve turned this all around. I could’ve just laughed and told her she was wrong.
“Well, yeah. It certainly screamed that you were the man I thought you were.” She laughs a little and I love the way it sounds. I hate the fact I love so much about her.
This is a temporary fix, and that’s all it is!
With that thought, I let her know exactly how I do things and how our time together from here on out will be. “Petra, I want to be honest with you about what I need in a sub.”
“Please tell me, Owen. All I want is to please you.”
Tapping my fingers on the top of my leg, I fight myself not to do what I want—take her out on a date and make huge mistakes that’ll cost me dearly.
After a moment of getting my head straight, I say, “Okay, just like before, your arms will be restricted and your legs too.” Then I think about how long her arms were bound in the monoglove and feel badly about not asking her about that earlier. “Petra, about the monoglove, was it uncomfortable? Were your arms very sore?”
“It was okay. My arms did feel kind of like noodles when Pat took it off, but she rubbed them and it took no time for them to feel normal again. Thank you for asking, Owen.”
“Okay,” I say, and feel weird that she’s calling me by my name. But I’m not going to say anything about it, as I’m about to let her know that I won’t let her talk to me anymore, so that won’t even matter. “Petra, you will still wear a blindfold, and now I’m going to add in a gag. For your comfort, I’ll allow you to pick out the one that works best for you. They’re in the dresser—the top right drawer.”
“A gag?” she asks, then I hear her footsteps as she goes to see what I’m talking about. “Oh, I see a couple of them in here.”
“Good. Just pick out the one that bothers you the least and make sure the person who comes to get you ready for me puts that on you.”
“Owen?”
“Yes, Petra?”
“You know, you could put all that stuff on me and take it all off too. It feels odd for anyone else to do it. And what if a man comes to do it? Then he’ll see me naked.”
“I’ll make sure only females do it, then. And I’m sorry for the odd way it makes you feel. It’s just that I prefer to come in when it’s already done.”
“So you don’t have to look anyone in the eyes?” she asks, then thinks better of it. “No, don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right,” I say as I lean back and look up at the ceiling. “But you’re also right about the reason I have someone else do that for me. You see, I want the entire thing to be just what it is. I told you before; I want a tight pussy to put my dick in, do the deed, and go. Nothing more than that. Helping you in and out of that stuff would force me to have more to do with you than I want.”
“I can see that now.” Her voice sounds sad.
And this is why I prefer things not to be this way!
“Petra, I feel I need to remind you about this not being personal. It’s not that I don’t think that you seem like a great person. Because I do think that. It’s just that I’ve needed to get this out of my system for nearly a year. You understand, don’t you?”
“Sure, Owen. I get it. Your life is all high tension and you just need a release. One where there’s no talking. Because you just need to get out of your head for a little while and don’t want to talk about why that is.”
“Damn it, Petra. You really get me. How the hell is that?” I ask as I get up and go lay on the bed—the one I’ll sleep in all alone because the idea of going and finding a random woman to fuck isn’t sitting well inside of me for some reason.
“I don’t know how that is, Owen. I just know it, is all. And I want to say something to you before you end our talks. I understand and accept things. I appreciate you and love the way we feel together. Even if you only use my body, I want you to know I will be enjoying it all. Even the touch of your hand sets me on fire. I’ll take what I can get from you and cherish every last second you give me.”
