Observation — Tara Crescent

There is an eight month period in my life that I do not permit myself to think about. The eight months of my life when I was Nick O'Malley's sexual submissive.

Eight months of the best sex I'd ever had. Eight months of spankings and nipple clamps, eight months of floggers and whips, eight months of swiftly escalating obedience and submission.

And then, things started escalating in a way that I was powerless to resist.

I recognized the look in Patrick's eyes today because I'd seen it before. I'd seen the same look in Nick's eyes for eight months â€" a certain focused intensity and a calm control, before he began to steadily strip apart every little bit of who I was, every little spark of personality, to create a sweet, willing submissive instead.

When I finally summoned the courage to break my terrible addiction, I made a promise to myself. No more. I'd play my spanking games, and I'd play at submission. But I could sense dominance in men, and I avoided it; I had determined that I was not strong enough to survive again.

The look in Patrick's eyes took me back to that dark time. And I was adamant I wouldn't go there again.

***Patrick and Lisa continue to see each other, but they are both keeping secrets; secrets that could tear them apart. How long before they find out what the other has been hiding?***

Note: This novella includes medical play, spankings, domination, graphic sexual scenes, and more.

***

An excerpt:

I was a distracted, horny mess. I couldn't think about Patrick without thinking about the way he had spanked me; the way he had strapped me down to the examination table and thrust his cock down my throat; the way he had pulled me into his body as he handed me coffee Sunday morning. By the time Wednesday evening came around, I would have spontaneously combusted if he so much as looked at my clitoris.

“Miss Preston,” Patrick greeted me at his door. I was dressed casually, since I was aware the clothes weren't going to stay on for very long; jeans and a t-shirt; a hoodie thrown over it. Even my lingerie underneath was plain; a simple grey cotton bra and panties. Functional clothes; I'd be taking them off shortly.

“Dr. Anderson,” I replied.

“Go on to the examination room please, and change into the robe,” he said. “I'll be along in a minute.”

“Yes, Doctor,” I said obediently, and made my way upstairs. My hands were shaking; my entire body was tingling in anticipation. Standing in the middle of the examination room, I forced myself to take several deep breaths before I stepped out of my clothing, and into the almost-transparent robe.

He had warned me when we talked on the phone Monday that today would be intense; he had insisted on a safeword. Red. I kept it simple. He wouldn't tell me anything else; laughing and refusing to ruin the surprise. I changed into my robe on autopilot while reliving the memory of our conversation Monday, and I realized I was smiling. Fuck. Three dates, a couple of phone calls, and I was seriously hooked. This was trouble.

I sat down on the stool, the metal cold against my bare ass, and I waited for him.

A knock, and he entered. He looked gorgeous; he was wearing his white lab coat, and under it, a blue shirt and grey slacks; I wanted to rip it all from his body; and take his hard length in me; I'd been fantasizing about Patrick since Sunday.

“Safeword?” he asked, searching my eyes for any hint of unease.

“Red,” I replied instantly. I should have been nervous at the need for a safeword; I hadn't used one since Nick, twelve long years ago. But instead, I couldn't wait to get started. There was an ease here; I felt safe with Patrick. He grinned and nodded.

“Miss Preston,” he said, smiling at me, warmth both in his eyes and in his voice. “I see from my notes here that you are still having trouble achieving orgasm?”