Friday 3 June 2022

Fiction: The Consultant

“Nice office”, I thought.

The consultant’s waiting room was modern, with uncluttered surfaces and modern art. Private dermatology practice was obviously financially rewarding. The attractive male receptionist had told me on arriving early for my appointment that I was the last of the day. The waiting room thinned out until only I remained – he was running late – but I had nowhere to go so there was no hurry.

“Mr Jones will see you now” the attractive receptionist stated. He must have been late 20s, blonde – with what looked like a swimmer’s body – long and lean I imagined even though he was sitting behind a tall reception desk. Not really my style, but I was sure that his ‘pretty boy’ type would have been all the range if he went out on the local ‘scene’. Standing, I looked at him for guidance as to where to go, and he motioned me down a corridor behind his reception desk.. “third door on the left”.

I flashed him a smile and thanked him, and headed down the corridor, as I approached the third door, it opened and a muscular looking dark haired man came out.

“Aha, you must be Mr Caan, I’m Jeff Jones. Apologies for running late, if you’d like to take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment”. Walking past him, I flashed him a smile, and he spoke to the receptionist “John, it’s late, and it’s a Friday, get yourself away”.

“Thanks boss, I’ll close everything up and see you Monday”

Returning to his office, he sat opposite me and extended his hand in greeting. A firm handshake; he must have been mid 40s, square jawed and good looking, with dark hair, turning salt and pepper at the temples, cut fairly short and neat. I’d noticed in the corridor he looked good from behind, his hair, his back, his ass – sometimes I do believe people can look as attractive from behind as in front. Wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit, his jacket hung from a coat stand next to his desk, along with a padded leather bike jacket. His office was modern like the waiting area, carpeted and tastefully decorated – nothing like what I anticipated a normal doctor’s office would be like.

Sitting in front of me in a pink shirt and purple neck tie, he was solid like a power lifter, his broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waistline. It looked like there was a fair amount of muscle definition under those clothes. I liked him already; before he’d even really spoken – at least this doctor’s appointment would involve something nice to look at.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, it’s been a busy day” he flashed me a smile and stroked his fingers across his dark well trimmed and shaped beard. Nice teeth and lips too.

“It was no problem, for a change I was early and don’t have no plans later” I responded and mirrored his smile.

“So, you were referred by your doctor, do you want to tell me more?”

I explained my doctor had referred me after I’d become concerned about a mole on my shoulder which seemed to be raised and irritated.

“If you’d like to take off your shirt, then I’ll take a look”. He washed his hands and donned some surgical gloves. I unbuttoned my shirt exposing my chest and ink – I have a full back piece – my SRN barcode and chains leading to a design of a leather man standing with a metal cage.

“Nice ink” he noted “just sit on the stool under this lamp, I’ll take a look”. Moving from my existing chair, I sat where required, as he examined me. With one palm in the middle of my shoulders, he used the other hand to poke and squeeze at the affected area. Alternatively looking through a magnifying lamp and with his naked eye, his face held close to my shoulder I could feel his breath and the heat from his body. His hands were warm and I was enjoying his close contact.

A few minutes later, the good news came “I don’t think it’s anything to be overly concerned about, the position it’s in will make it prone to being irritated by your clothes. It’s not deep, and I could remove it now under local if need be and then we’ll send it to the lab just to be sure”.

Whilst not overly worried beforehand, the statement at least set my mind at rest. I asked the implications of him removing it; which seemed nothing more than keeping it clean for a few days and ensuring I attended for aftercare and the results. I was happy with his confidence, so agreed that we should deal with it then and there. We went through formalities of allergies, paperwork and aftercare arrangements.

“I need about fifteen minutes prep time as there’s no one left to assist, so you might like to put your shirt back on. There’s the TV back down in the waiting area”.

“You’re the boss, Doc. I’ll catch up on current affairs until you’re set”

Pulling my shirt back on, but leaving it unbuttoned, I headed back into the corridor with him following. Returning to the waiting area, I sat down in front of the news, and he disappeared into other room. Moments passed during which I saw him go from door to door with various trays and bags of dressings.

“This way”… at some point, he’d changed into a green medical gown, the short sleeves of which showed off his muscular arms. Following, he lead me into a different room, far different to his office. “This is our minor procedure room”. In contrast, this room was stark white, un-carpeted, stainless steel fittings and trolleys, with a surgical bed and moveable light overhead. Everything looked spotless.

“Okay, let’s get started, shirt off, on the table please”

Again removing my shirt, I lifted myself onto the padded table, and noticed that threaded through one side of the table around waist height was a brown leather fastening humane restraint strap. He must have noted my glance, gave me a smile, and commented “just keeps things still during some procedures. Not needed for minor legion removals however...” he guided me onto my back, and lowered his face very close to mine and looked me straight in the eyes “... unless you particularly want to...” his voice lowered “…seeking ownership eh?”

I recognised the wording instantly from my SRN profile. Rather than all out panic, there was something about his powerful man which put me at ease, I leaned up to his lips to meet them, but he placed his forearm across my chest, and pushed me back down.

“Not until earned”

“Please own me SIR”.

At that point, I knew it was too late; he already had me. I wanted to taste his lips, tongue; lick clean his pits and chew on his tits to serve him. To be on my knees while his hot piss and cum hit the back of my throat. To offer him my ass to be plugged and ridden for his pleasure whenever he wanted.

He looped the restraint round my right hand, pushed the tab through the leather, and clipped closed the locking post. I pulled against the restraint, testing its security; the leather didn’t give but creaked under my straining, and holding my wrist fast to the bench. The other wrist restraint was as quickly applied to my wrist – rendering me completely owned for as long as he wanted me to remain. I could smell the leather, and wondered the history of how many other ‘patients’ had enjoyed this treatment quite as much.

He stroked my tits, squeezing and pulling at them, and running his gloved fingers across my hairy chest. My cock was rock hard, and wanted release from my jeans. He followed down my abs, and rubbed his hands across my cock through my jeans, and reaching for my belt, in one swift motion unbuckled it and unbuttoned my jeans. Pulling from my ankles, he pulled my jeans straight off, exposing the black “Bike” jock I was wearing which was now moist with precum and straining against my 8 inches.

Moving his head down to my crotch, he made eye contact with me, and opened his mouth to gently bite on the length of my cock through the jock. Moving his mouth up the shaft, he extended his tongue to lick my cock head where it was now exposed over the waist band of my jock. I felt the moist pressure of his tongue and it sent waves of pleasure into my brain.

He returned to another cupboard to my right, and removed some more sets of humane restraints. Looping a set around the lower half of the bed, next, my legs were spread wide, and my ankles similarly fastened into ankle restraints. I was now in four point medical restraints, completely owned.