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Authors: Elyse Scott

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BOOK: House Call (Hideaway)
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‘Good
job, Sam. I’m proud of you. I know that hurt. Give it a few minutes, and you’ll
hardly know it’s there.’

She
nodded against his chest.

‘Push
it out, however,’ he added, ‘and you’ll be lying across my lap while I reinsert
it with less patience. Got it?’

She
smiled. ‘Yes, Sir.’

He
pulled back a little. ‘What do you say?’

She
bit down what she
wanted
to say, and took a deep breath. ‘Thank you,
Sir.’

He
smiled to show he knew very well what she had
not
said. ‘Manners are
very important,’ he said. ‘Now step out of the shower, careful not to let the
plug ‘accidentally’ slip out.’

He
steadied her as she did as she was told, her hand pressing against the plug to
keep it in. He wrapped a warm, fluffy bath sheet around her, and dried her off.

‘Now
let’s go to your bedroom and find you some clean pyjamas,’ he said.

*

Five
minutes later, she was wearing a clean tank top and shorts. She shifted
uncomfortably from foot to foot, the plug in her rectum feeling every inch as
big as it was.

He
watched her. ‘Go ahead and sit down – carefully –,’ he grinned, ‘while I make
your soup. Tell me about your precious necklace.’ He began taking ingredients
out of the fridge and the cupboards, laying them on the counter along with
utensils and pots and pans she rarely used.

‘Dear
God,’ he said, scrutinizing a pan. ‘Is this
dust?

She
blushed. ‘I’m not at home all that much, so I don’t do a lot of cooking… But
you’ll find the microwave is spotless.’

‘Mmm.’
He went to the sink and washed the pan. She watched, fascinated, as he set the
stock on to simmer, and began chopping up the chicken and vegetables like a
pro.

‘A
few weeks ago, I went back to a refugee camp in Gaza. One I’ve reported from
several times.’ She went to the bookcase and picked up a photo of herself with
a smiling teenager with long black hair and geeky glasses, and brought it back
to show him. ‘This is a place where children are ostracised and bullied for
being refugees. They can be taken off the streets, interrogated, and tortured
for no reason. They can be killed for no reason other than that they were
playing in the wrong place at the wrong time, or spoke to the wrong person.’

He
nodded, his eyes never leaving her.

‘I
became particularly friendly with a seventeen year old girl named Asma. Her
mother had told her that people who lived in the camp couldn’t have dreams, but
she did... she does. She wants to travel, to go to university, to become a
journalist like me, so that she can tell her people’s story to the world, and
not just have it reported on by foreigners. To show the good in the people she
knows, the kinds of things that the news never shows. That she can have that
kind of humanity, and ambition, in a place like that is just…’ She broke off,
and he nodded, but didn’t interrupt.

He
slid a chopping board down the counter, handed her a couple of carrots and a
knife, and she began to chop, the action soothing her.

‘One
day,’ she went on, ‘I went to the market and found these necklaces with
affirmations on them. They were made by young children trying to make some
money for their families. When I saw this one, with ‘Courage’ on it, I knew she
had to have it, as a reminder of the respect I had for her, and to stay strong
and go after her dreams. I promised to help her if I could.’ She smiled. ‘She
insisted on spending what little money she had on buying the same necklace for
me, in return, to remind me of the gift I had given her, by risking the dangers
of the camp and being the first person to encourage her to make her dreams a
reality.’

‘That’s
wonderful,’ he said, taking the chopped carrots from her, and brushing them into
a pot.

‘She’s
taught me more about courage than I ever taught her.’ Her throat closed up.
‘She was in the market a few days later, when a car bomb exploded.’

‘Jesus,’
said Master Dan, pain written across his face. ‘Don’t tell me she died.’

‘No.
She lost her leg below the knee, and a couple of fingers, but she survived.’
Her eyes were brimming. ‘And she’s even more determined to become a
journalist.’

He
shook his head. ‘That’s incredible.’

She
nodded. ‘I’m still in touch with her, through an aid worker I know. I’m going
to do everything I can to help her.’

‘If
anyone deserves it, she does,’ he said.

She
nodded, and wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand.

He
frowned. ‘It’s really hot in here.’

‘The
air conditioner’s broken.’

He
went over to the box set into the window, and opened the back panel.

‘Please
don’t get electrocuted, Sir,’ she said, following at a safe distance.

He
snorted dismissively, and jiggled something inside the box. She could hardly
bear to watch. A moment later, the beast roared to life. She blinked, and
laughed. ‘Oh my God! Thank you.’

He
grinned. ‘I’m a man of many talents.’

She
laughed. ‘That you are.’

‘How’s
that plug?’ he said. ‘Do I need to check?’

She
grimaced, and carefully lowered herself onto the sofa. She’d almost forgotten
about it, her mind momentarily on higher things. ‘Still there, Sir.’

‘It
had better be.’ He went on with what he was doing; fixing the chicken and
vegetables, adding seasoning, putting it all together with noodles, until the
whole apartment smelled heavenly.

*

Maybe
it was the delicious homemade food going to her head, or the way he’d stroked
his hand down the back of her head and neck when he’d set it in front of her,
but the question was out. ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Sir?’

He
raised an eyebrow. ‘I guess you’ve earned the right to a personal question,’ he
smiled. ‘But it goes both ways. I answer your question, you answer mine.’ He
stuck out his hand for her to shake. ‘Deal?’

She
stared at his hand, unable to reach for it.

‘I
suppose, in your line of work you’re more accustomed to asking questions than
answering them,’ he said, dryly.

She
smiled, hoping she could slide out of this. ‘I think you may be right, Sir.’

He
nodded. ‘Eat.’

She
ate, sneaking glances at him. There was no way this was the end of the matter.
When they were done with the soup and stood out on the balcony, he proved her
right.

‘You’re
clearly terrified of what I might ask you,’ he said, when they’d been out
there, watching the stars for a while. ‘Don’t you think you’d feel better if
you let me lay your fears to rest?’

She
would, if there was any guarantee that that
was
what the outcome would
be. ‘I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have started something I couldn’t finish.’

‘No,’
he said. ‘But I’ll let it slide this time. Go ahead; ask me whatever you want.’

She
smiled. ‘Okay… How did a nice doctor like you end up in a job like this? Was
there an evening class, or…’

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I
have
taken numerous courses. Now,’ he grinned, ‘I
teach
them. But I’d say
being a Dom is more a vocation than a job. I’ve always been a dominant. Since I
was a kid. But I never pursued it, never looked for an outlet for my…
proclivities, even when it became one of the irreconcilable differences I had
with my ex-wife, along with the crazy hours I spent doing ER rotations.’

Suddenly Sam felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You
don’t have to…’

He shook his head. ‘It’s okay. It ended amicably, and the breakdown
of my marriage caused me to really take a look at myself, and what I was doing
with my life. Much to my colleagues’ disgust, I switched from emergency
medicine to holistic therapies, because I was interested in learning about
other ways of helping people. One day, I had a client who happened to be a
Domme. We got talking, and she invited me along to a barbecue where I met a
bunch of her friends.’

‘Wow.’

He nodded. ‘It was… profound. Like finding your tribe, and realizing
that you’re not a freak, and you’re not alone anymore, you know?’

Sam nodded. ‘It must have been such a relief.’ She swallowed.
‘Maybe like how I felt when I met you.’

He glanced down at her, and smiled. ‘Probably so. Is that how you
felt? Relieved?’

She felt herself flushing.
Be honest. You have to be honest.
‘Yes. Relieved, when I spoke to you on the phone for the first time, and told
you things I’d never dreamed of telling another person. You listened to what I
had to say without judgment, and when we met, you gave me what I’d been
wanting… craving, even… for such a long time. And then excited, when I thought
of the possibilities that lay ahead, if I had the courage to see you again.’

His arm slid around her, and pulled her to him. He kissed the top
of his head. ‘Thank you, Sam.
That
was brave.’

She smiled. ‘Yeah. Well… don’t let me interrupt. So you found your
tribe.’

He nodded. ‘They convinced me that some of the, er,
skills
that I had were in great demand where they worked. I was highly sceptical at
first, but I went along to The Hideaway and found that the way different
individuals enjoyed exploring their sexuality and hell, just had fun, was
fascinating, and often very different, and far more complex, than the popular
stereotypes. Every client I had, had different wants and needs, so every day
was different, and I enjoyed the psychological aspect as well. I met a lot of
good people, and found that I could give them things they couldn’t get anywhere
else. For a few months I worked and trained at The Hideaway a couple of days a
week. Eventually I resigned from the hospital, and I’ve been very happy at The
Hideaway ever since.’ He looked at her. ‘That answer your question?’

She laughed. ‘Yes! More than. Thank you.’

‘I’m
not going to force you to open up to me if you’re not ready,’ he said. ‘Your
body, however, is another matter, and if your mind decides to come along for
the ride, well,’ he smiled, ‘that will be a bonus.’ He hooked his index finger
into the shoulder strap of her tank top, and tugged. ‘Time to go back inside.’

*

He
steered her to the sofa. ‘Lie down on your back.’

She
arranged herself so that she was comfortable, which was not easy with the plug
making its presence know with every movement. The room was dimly lit by a
single lamp. She was
so
happy he was here. And that was what was so
scary.

He
pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her neck, and looked into her eyes.
‘Excited?’

She
nodded.

‘Why
don’t we pick up where we left off, when you so rudely interrupted my
examination.’

He
didn’t sound angry, though, so she allowed herself to relax into the intimacy
of the moment as he proceeded to listen to her heart and lungs.

‘Now,’
he said. He put the stethoscope back in the backpack, and pushed up her top. He
moved her left bra cup aside, and carefully examined her breast, and the
surrounding tissue. Then he leaned forward, his hands pressing deep into the
cushions either side of her, his hard forearms warm against her bare skin.

He
lowered his mouth to her breast, and kissed it softly, making his way all
around until he arrived at her nipple, and began to suckle.

‘Yes,’
she said, running her fingers through his dark, grey-flecked hair. Her hips
canted upwards in invitation.

He
cupped her breast in both hands, squeezed hard, and suckled without mercy,
trapping her nipple between his lips and pulling it long and taut. After a
certain point, she couldn’t bear to watch. He hadn’t done this before, and the
frisson of fear heightened her arousal. She gasped, caught between pleasure and
pain, and her hand went down into her panties, dipping into her wet sex before
remembering this was forbidden.

His
grip clamped around her wrist. He brought her hand up, and held it in place as
he took her glistening fingers into his mouth.

Through
half-closed eyes, she watched him lick and suck her clean as her breathing
hitched and quickened.

He
released her hand, and replaced her damp breast in its bra cup. He uncovered
the other side, and repeated the procedure. Examining. Suckling. Squeezing.

Finally,
he straightened up and sat back. He stroked a gentle hand over her forehead,
pushing under her bangs, calming her, testing her temperature. ‘You’ve defied
me numerous times, and you need to be punished, sweetheart.’

A
chill ran through her. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Do
you have a hair dryer?’

She
blinked at the randomness of the question. ‘Um, yes. On my dresser.’

He
stood up, delved into the backpack. ‘Turn over. Let’s get that plug out of
you.’

As
she moved to obey, she heard the unmistakeable sound of him pulling on a pair
of latex gloves.

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