Chapter 4 BOOK 2 - doctor's Pet

The rain outside lashed against the windows of Dr. Elias Thorne's private study, a fittingly dramatic backdrop to Clara's growing unease. She clutched the discreet note in her hand. "Dr. Thorne requests your presence... 8 PM, to review patient files."

But she knew better. No files were ever reviewed at 8 PM in his personal sanctum. This was different. This was just him, and her.

The heavy door swung open, revealing the lavish room. It reeked of expensive wood, old books, and a faint, masculine scent that was purely him. Elias. He was impossibly handsome for his age, somewhere in his late forties. Salt-and-pepper hair, eyes like chipped obsidian, and a jawline that could cut glass. A dark suit fitted his lean, powerful frame perfectly. He looked like sin, perfectly tailored.

He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, a single lamp illuminating his sharp features. His gaze lifted, pinning her instantly.

"Clara," his voice was a low purr, a sound that slid under her skin. "Come in, my dear. Close the door."

She obeyed, her hand shaking slightly as she clicked the lock. The sound was unnervingly final in the soundproofed room. She was trapped. Or, perhaps, precisely where she was meant to be.

"Take a seat," he gestured to a plush leather armchair opposite his desk. She sat, her nurse's uniform feeling suddenly thin against her skin. Those polished antique medical instruments on a side table glinted under the dim light, looking less like tools and more like elegant, dangerous toys.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here," he said, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, his gaze never leaving her.

Clara swallowed. "To... review files, sir?"

He chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver straight to her core. "Please, Clara. Don't insult my intelligence. Or yours. We both know that's a polite fiction. Tonight, we're reviewing you."

Her cheeks flamed. "My condition, sir? I assure you, I'm quite healthy."

"Healthy?" he scoffed, his eyes glinting. "You're a walking testament to repressed desire, Clara. A perfect, ripe fruit just waiting to be plucked. I've watched you, you know. Since you started here."

Clara's breath hitched. He'd watched her? A strange mix of mortification and a thrilling, illicit excitement surged through her.

"I've seen the way you bite your lip when you're flustered. The way your hips sway, even under that dreadful uniform. And those breasts, Clara." His eyes dropped, unabashedly staring at her chest, making her nipples tighten instantly. "They practically beg for attention."

He rose, slowly, fluidly, like a coiled snake. He moved around the desk, his presence filling the air. He stopped right in front of her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body.

"No medical jargon tonight," he stated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Tonight, we speak the truth. I've always wanted you, Clara. From the moment you walked through that door."

Clara gasped, her eyes wide. The sheer audacity, the blatant perversion of his words, shocked her to her core. Yet, her body was screaming a different story, a desperate longing ignited by his raw honesty.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" he murmured, his eyes holding hers captive. "Still untouched. A perfectly wrapped gift. And your pathetic little husband only ever used his hands, didn't he? Poor, starved girl."

Clara's jaw dropped. How could he possibly know? Her shame was overwhelming, yet the fact that he knew her secret, her deepest unfulfillment, was strangely, darkly alluring.

"Don't look so surprised," he scoffed, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I see things, Clara. I see what people hide, what they deny themselves. And you, my dear, are ripe with denial."

He reached out, his long fingers cupping her chin, tilting her head back. "Tonight, we fix that. Tonight, your professor is going to teach you what you truly need. What your pussy is begging for."

His thumb stroked her lower lip. "Open for me, Clara. Let me see that pretty mouth."

Her lips parted automatically, trembling slightly. His eyes dropped to her mouth, dark and intense.

"Good girl," he purred. "Such an obedient little thing. Now, I want you to tell me. What are those beautiful breasts of yours aching for right now?"

Clara blushed crimson. She couldn't form the words. Her nipples, hard as pebbles, were practically throbbing under her uniform.

"Too shy?" he chuckled, a low, wicked sound. He reached out, his hand sliding under her blouse, directly cupping one of her full breasts. Clara cried out, a sharp, surprised gasp as his thumb circled her nipple through the fabric.

"This, Clara," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked on hers, "is what they're crying for. The attention. The devotion. And my mouth, of course."

He unbuttoned her blouse with one hand, his eyes never leaving hers, a dark promise in their depths. The fabric fell open, revealing her pristine white bra. He unhooked it deftly, letting her heavy, pink-tipped breasts spill free.

He let out a low groan, his eyes devouring them. "Absolutely exquisite. Pink and round, like perfect little sprinkles, begging to be licked off."

His head descended, and his mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking hard, drawing her deep inside. Clara gasped, her fingers digging into the arms of the chair. He pulled, tugged, licked, a slow, sensual assault that made her arch her back, desperate for more.

"You're so sensitive," he mumbled against her skin, moving to the other breast, suckling with equal fervor. "Just as I imagined. A little firecracker, waiting to explode."

He pulled back, leaving her breathless, her breasts aching. He stood, unzipped his trousers, and his thick, hard cock sprang free, pulsing with life. It was huge, intimidating, a dark, veined column that seemed impossibly thick.

Clara's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn't look away. It was truly monstrous, in the most magnificent way.

"Now, Clara," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "On your knees. For your next lesson."

She slid from the chair, her knees hitting the plush rug. She knelt before him, her eyes level with his cock, which twitched, eager and heavy.

"Take it," he ordered, his voice laced with absolute command. "Take it all, Clara. Show me how much you want to be cured."

He took his cock in his hand, guiding the massive head towards her mouth. Clara's lips trembled. It was so much bigger than anything she'd ever imagined.

"Open wider," he insisted, pushing his hips forward, pressing the blunt head against her lips. "Don't be a coward, Clara. Show me your devotion."

She opened her mouth, stretching her jaw, and he pushed. Slowly, deliberately, the thick head slid past her teeth, then her tongue. She gagged, a desperate, choked sound, as he pushed deeper, filling her mouth, stretching her throat to its absolute limit.

His taste was salty, musky, intensely male. It filled her mouth, coating her tongue, making her eyes water. He was pushing so deep, she felt like she might choke.

"That's it," he rasped, his voice thick with arousal. "Take every fucking inch, Clara. Swallow your doctor. Be a good little patient and take your medicine."

He pulled back slightly, letting her gasp for air, then pushed again, deeper, forcing her to take more of him. He moved his hips, slowly at first, then with more force, thrusting into her mouth, using her throat as his personal pleasure tunnel. She could feel his balls slapping against her chin with each powerful, vulgar thrust.

Clara whimpered, tears streaming down her face, not from pain, but from the sheer, overwhelming, perverse pleasure of it all. Her hands instinctively went to his thighs, gripping them tightly as he fucked her mouth, her throat. He drove into her, a relentless rhythm, forcing her to submit, to take every inch of him.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled his cock from her mouth, leaving her gasping, drooling, and utterly spent. Her throat was sore, her jaw ached, but a strange, powerful sense of accomplishment washed over her.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He wiped her mouth with the back of his hand, then knelt before her, his hands going to her hips, pulling her panties down.

Her blonde curls, untouched and innocent, sprang free. Her pussy was swollen, wet, glistening. He stared, his eyes burning with hunger.

"Perfect," he breathed, his fingers parting her labia, revealing the tight, pink folds within. "Absolutely perfect. A virgin, waiting just for me."

He leaned down, his tongue darting out, licking her swollen clitoris. Clara screamed, a raw, animal sound, as a wave of intense pleasure ripped through her. He suckled, licked, devoured her, his tongue working her relentlessly, driving her to the brink.

She bucked and moaned, her body writhing under his expert assault. He moved his head, tasting her inner labia, her vaginal opening, making her gush with wetness. The rain outside continued its violent beat, matching the storm inside her.

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. "Now, Clara," he commanded, his voice a low, triumphant growl. "It's time for you to understand what true submission feels like. The kind that heals."

He picked her up, effortlessly, carrying her to the center of the plush rug. He gently laid her down, then reached under the desk, pulling out a set of soft leather restraints. He secured her wrists and ankles to the thick legs of the desk, stretching her out, completely exposed.

"You're beautiful like this," he rasped, his eyes devouring her naked form. "Vulnerable. Mine."

He returned with a small, powerful vibrator, gleaming black. "This, Clara, is your next dose of medicine."

He pressed the vibrating tip against her clitoris. Clara screamed, her body arching violently against the restraints as the intense buzz filled her. He worked her ruthlessly, his other hand sliding into her pussy, fingers plunging deep, stretching her. He fucked her with his fingers while the vibrator made her climax again and again, a raw, uncontrolled explosion of pleasure.

"Feel that, Clara?" he growled, his voice thick with triumph. "That's what happens when you let go. When you trust your doctor to give you exactly what you need."

He pulled his fingers and the vibrator away, leaving her trembling, aching, utterly spent. Then, he unzipped his trousers again, pulling out his enormous, thick cock. It was throbbing, ready.

He knelt between her legs, looking down at her, a dark smile on his handsome face. "Now, for the final cure."

He pushed, slowly, deliberately. Clara cried out, a sharp, piercing sound as her virgin flesh stretched, tore, and gave way around him. A searing pain, quickly followed by an intense fullness, ripped through her. She gasped, her body arching against the restraints.

He paused, letting her adjust, his eyes locked on hers. "That's it, little slut. You're mine now. Fully diagnosed. Fully cured."

He pushed again, deeper, until he was fully buried inside her, filling her completely. Clara's legs trembled, her body shaking uncontrollably, her pussy stretched impossibly wide around his massive cock.

He began to thrust, deep and rhythmic, fucking her with a primal intensity that left her breathless. Clara cried out, her body convulsing around him, meeting his every thrust with a desperate arch of her hips. The pain of her virginity giving way was long forgotten, replaced by an overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure.

He fucked her relentlessly, driving her higher and higher, until her body tensed, her muscles spasmed, and a wave of pure, unadulterated orgasm ripped through her. She screamed, a raw, guttural sound, her body arching violently against the restraints, her pussy clenching around him.

He groaned, his own body tensing, and then he too found his release, thrusting deep inside her as he came, filling her with his hot, sticky cum.

He pulled out slowly, leaving her trembling, slick, and utterly spent. He unzipped her restraints, then gently helped her sit up. Clara felt a profound shift within her. The shame was gone, replaced by a strange sense of clarity, of understanding. She was no longer innocent, no longer stifled. She was free.

She looked at him, her doctor, her dominant, her first. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes still dark with passion, a faint flush on his cheeks. He looked utterly satisfied.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, her voice still hoarse, but clear. She looked him directly in the eye, her gaze unwavering. "I understand better."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Elias's handsome face. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear from her cheek.

"Good, Clara," he said, his voice soft, yet filled with a new, possessive warmth. "Because I have a proposition for you."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Clara's heart hammered, a mix of fear and exhilarating anticipation.

"Clara," he finally said, his eyes gleaming. "Would you like a promotion?"