Doctor's Orders: The Complete Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

first time in memory.
    When I finally come fully to my senses, the mystery man is gone, and the Doctor is gently stroking my cheek. My whole body is achingly sensitive. I can’t talk yet, can’t fully feel my face. The Doctor walks around and tenderly wipes me down before he frees one ankle, bending my leg under me and back, getting the circulation going for me before placing my foot on the ground. Gently he does the same with the other leg, and lowers my harness before freeing my hands. I can’t stand yet, and I simply collapse into the harness, where he catches me, softly.
    He fondles my breasts, and I don’t care that it hurts, even in this debilitated state. I want his hands on me. But it only lasts a moment before he helps me up and out of my harness, and then he’s walking me over to the chair, where my clothes are in disarray. He’s silent as he helps me dress, gentle and considerate, anticipating my movements without asking me to speak. Which is just as well, since I think it will be a while before I can.
    Finally I’m clothed, presentable, no outward sign of what just happened. He touches his fingers to my chin, and my cheek, and he brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear.
    “A productive session, Claire?” he asks softly.
    I nod. It’s all I can do. But suddenly the thought is quite clear in my mind: I think I am his.
    The thought stuns me. And I don’t know what to do with it. I realize I don’t know anything about him, or his life, or whether this is the treatment that everyone gets. It nearly pains me as he walks away, back to his desk, and I have to restrain myself from ripping off my clothes again, the fabric coarse and unnatural against my skin now, from throwing my naked body on his.
    This is insane. I’m trapped in my own little insanity now, because of him. I don’t know what to do, and I’m debating what to say, how to say it, when he walks back to me. He puts a hand under my chin, and lifts my face to his, his blue eyes shining as always. I don’t know what I expect to happen, but it isn’t this.
    “Our next appointment,” he says, and flourishes another black card by my cheek. And then he grins. “I think it will surprise you.”
     

 
     
    P ART 2:
    R EMOTE C ONTROL
     
     
    I feel absolutely naked.
    I’m not, not really. Technically I’m covered up. But the dress that he told me to wear doesn’t cover much, and what it does cover it hugs so tightly that it might as well be see-through.
    I felt so out of place in that store, buying that dress. I was secretly relieved that he’d left such specific instructions on where to find it, so that I could just get in, get the dress, and get out. Everyone else was so fashionable, so made up, so sure of themselves, just standing there, looking cool, while that weird music played in the background. I felt like Pinocchio hiding among the real children; as though the salesgirl, with her asymmetric haircut and her dramatic eye makeup and her sexy cleavage, would somehow know I wasn’t one of them. But no one said anything. I mean, of course no one said anything. They took my money, and I walked out with the dress that he told me to wear for our next appointment.
    And now I’m standing on a street corner in my slutty red dress and high heels, as ordered, feeling naked to the world, and waiting for the Doctor.
    My first appointment with the Doctor changed my life. I think. I’m still not sure how, exactly, but I’m definitely a little different. Things are different. I agreed to his treatment, even though I’m not sure what he’s treating – malaise? Boredom? Depression? But I agreed to submit to him completely for its duration, unless I use the safeword and quit. I’d never done anything like BDSM before, never thought about submission, and what it meant. He told me it would make me free. I mean, sure. Fine. I’m not so sure of where it will all lead, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to find out. Possibly this is because I was