“But doctor, I’m a Dom!” [M/F]

“You should really talk to someone,” Elise said, taking another sip of tea. We were sitting at our favorite little bookstore, complete with elderly gay owners, obligatory mean-eyed cat, and the smell of tropical exhaust from teenagers’ vape pens as they chatted about some obscure Manga. “I *am* talking to someone, Elise,” I chuckled nervously, “I mean, you do exist, right? I haven’t gone completely bonkers?”

Elise and I had known each other for years, veterans of a couple startups, some brick-and-mortars, and more ‘Tequila Tuesdays’ than we cared to (or could) recollect. It’s strange about kinky people, you just know sometimes. It’s like gaydar, but for people that have an affinity for bondage and fine leather goods. We’d had a lot of late night talks, but no romantic engagements; the timing never worked out. However, she was as loyal and trustworthy a friend as I could hope for.

“No, seriously, like a professional someone,” she insisted, “You’re carrying a lot, and I know you like to play the more dominant role, however, maybe you need to let down your guard a bit.” That hit home for me. I always put up the facade of the ‘go-to’ guy, both at work and at social functions, but like the old country song goes ‘the life of the party dies a little every night’. Elise had always been a shoulder to lean on, however, at this point it almost felt like putting a band-aid on a compound fracture.

“Do….do you know anyone?” I asked meekly. Elise stopped and stared. “I wasn’t sure if you would take me seriously, or just blow me off with a ‘everything is fine’ like you always do. I have a friend, she’s a mental health professional and she’s kink-friendly. She might be just what you need.”

I scribbled down the phone number, and texted her immediately. I mentioned that I was a friend of Elise’s, and I just needed someone to talk to. She told me to be at her office, Friday 4pm sharp. “I like to take the new cases last, as sometimes they run over time,” the text read. Friday at 4pm, I was at her office, a quaint little place on the third floor of an old office building. It must have been something back in the day; it probably took more time just to do the crown molding than it takes one of these new high-rises to be built. I knocked twice, and a sweet voice on the other side of the door chimed, “please, come in”.

I entered the office, and it was immaculate. Large bookshelves filled with medical textbooks, several certificates, diplomas, letters of appreciation, and pictures of her with her dog. “Please, sit down,” she said graciously. She was about my age, mid-40s, with a tasteful blouse, A-line skirt, wire-rim glasses and minimal jewelry. “Now, I could have pumped Elise for information, however, that didn’t seem fair. Tell me a little about yourself,” she said, pulling out a notepad.

I told her about my crazy work schedule, my romantic entanglements, all the things that were stressing me out. She provided some timely, ‘mm-hmms’ and ‘go ons’ as I spilled my guts to her. As I paused, she asked me point blank, “do you identify more as a Dom or a sub”. “Dom,” I said almost immediately. “Why do you think that is?” she asked. I hemmed and hawed a little, when she cut me off. “What you shared with me, carrying such a load at work and your personal life, I bet you pride yourself on being that guy, making sure everyone gets taken care of,” she grinned, “but who is taking care of you?” I thought about it, and she was right. I could carry my work team on my back, and never really got recognized. I could flog a stunt bottom until she collapsed into a quivering pile of orgasmic bliss, wrap her in a blanket, and feed her Cheetos until she regained the power of speech but I never got that kind of care back. I sat there, dumbfounded. It’s so simple.

“I have an exercise I’d like to try with you,” she said, standing up. She walked around her desk, and took me by the hand, and went around a curtain. I thought they were drapes, however, they led to a separate room, one with a big four-poster bed, surrounded by electric candles. She put on some music, old jazz, it sounded like. She came back to me and caressed my face, cupping my cheek in her hand. “Take off all your clothes and get into bed. Doctor’s orders,” she whispered. I stood there for a moment, unsure. Did I really just hear that? “In. Bed. You.” she repeated. I undressed, and she did as well, kicking off her Jimmy Choos and draping her blouse and skirt over a chair before sliding into the mammoth bed next to me.

“Come here,” she said warmly, with open arms. I slid over to her side, and she embraced me and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re in a safe place now,” she whispered, “everything is going to be okay.” Years of emotion, suppressed and ignored, suddenly poured out of me. I cried like a baby as she held me to her chest. “Feel better?,” she asked kindly. I nodded an affirmative as I curled into her, like a scared child in a thunderstorm. “You have been carrying a lot of weight,” she said quietly, kissing me on the forehead, “when’s the last time someone was kind to you?” Before I could answer, I could feel her hand on my thigh. “If you would like me to, I would like to be kind to you, *very* kind,” she purred into my ear. “That….that sounds wonderful,” I admitted. Her soft, warm hand was suddenly on my cock, stroking it gently, as it got hard in her hand. “Is that okay,” she asked quietly, kissing me on the cheek. I grunted to the affirmative, to which she replied, “then you’re going to *love* this next part.”

The good doctor slid lithely down my side, until her head was next to my waist. She kissed my hip bones as she delicately stroked my cock, and then with a smile, she wrapped her lips around the head. I gasped. Her lips were impossibly soft, like goose down pillows, and her burgundy lipstick was in sharp contrast to the pale skin of my member. She pulled back and kissed the head before winking and looking at me. “Still okay,” she asked in a purposefully ironic professional voice. I nodded to the affirmative, and before I could react, I was in her mouth again, this time, she took all of me inside. Her head moved slowly up and down, her tongue exploring every contour.

She pulled away, and then crawled on my lap. I tried to speak, but she put her finger across my lips as she moved her hips into position. With one hand against my mouth, and the other around my cock, she lowered herself onto me with a grin. Soon, one of her hands was on my chest while the other was alternately rubbing her clit and holding her breast so she could get her nipple in her mouth. Soon, she was churning against me like an angry Amish woman making butter. I wasn’t sure my pelvis was designed to take that kind of impact, however I dared not to move. It wasn’t long until we both came. As my cock erupted inside her, her voice built to a crescendo, screaming for divine mercy before collapsing on my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her, and she kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going to put you down for my Friday regular,” she said flatly, “There’s a lot of feelings you still need to unpack, I believe.” “Whatever the doctor says,” I grinned. She kissed me again, and then laid her head on my chest. Her hair was soft and silky and smelled faintly of strawberries. “I don’t want you to feel bad about releasing all those feelings,” she said softly, “it’s perfectly normal, and I wish that more people could open up like that. Now, lie still and appreciate the moment.”

So I did.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/hmjgb4/but_doctor_im_a_dom_mf