Doctor’s Demands

Owen

Owen

April is always the hardest month for me. I’m so close to the prize that it’s frustrating, yet I have a month’s worth of work left before me. My mind gets frazzled, as do my nerves. I hate how this always happens!

I left the operating room after a harrowing twelve hours of surgery on a woman’s face that was already perfectly fine, and came to find solitude in my office. The routine facelift had changed into a life-and-death situation when her heart stopped beating. Thank God for my staff and their endless knowledge. The woman, who’s a model, turned out just fine, but I was left a bundle of nerves.

It’s days like these when I wish I had a permanent bottom. Someone I could go to. Someone who’d just be quiet and let me do what I needed to, and then I could leave without so much as a word said between us.

That’s why I need my summer vacations at The Dungeon of Decorum. That is where I find what I need to help me make it through the year.

No cameras and no producers asking if I can possibly make the surgeries bloodier. Just me and my purchase who waits in the room I left her in.

My privacy is precious to me. As a celebrity of sorts—I’m one of the plastic surgeons on a reality television series entitled, Beverly Hills Reconstructions—I can’t let my little fetish become headline news. Nor can I expose the fact that I’m a member of a b**m club in Portland, Oregon. I buy women for the summer months and keep them hidden away. They never see my face or know me by anything other than sir.

It’s best that way. No one can ever come back to haunt me.

I turn on my personal laptop and pull up the club’s website. Scrolling through the women who are already signed up to participate in this summer’s auction, I check them all out.

It’s not that I have a type, really, but I do like to have a few girls chosen before going to the auction. I’ve had various females in the last five years. Tall, short, curvy, thin, and one was an amputee. That one was interesting, to say the least.

I let her tell me that she had lost her leg in some accident. I prefer not to know anything about my subs. I like to keep things with them strictly s****l. Not that they get a lot out of it. I mean, some of them might’ve, but I don’t ask about things like that. I’m in it to get my rocks off, not pander to the female.

It’s crass, I know. That’s why I pay highly for what I want. I don’t treat the women I date that way, but I hardly ever date anyone for more than a month or two at a time.

My work has made me quite wealthy. I’m also pretty damn good looking to boot. I work out, so my body is on point. And that’s what makes me insecure.

Stupid, I know.

But it does. I mean, I’m smart as s**t, a thing I feel like most women don’t pick up on. They all think of me as the air-head who fixes other air-heads’ faces and bodies. Being a plastic surgeon who specializes in maintaining the beautiful doesn’t garner respect from one’s peers.

I think my personality is charming, and even that has me wondering if the woman I’m with likes me for me or for what I look like, drive in, live in, or any of the other things that money can buy.

The blindfolds are used so the women I purchase can’t see me. I keep her hands tied back so she can’t run them over my muscular body. I don’t talk much so they can’t fall victim to my charms. They get me in my most basic of forms. They get my c**k and that’s all they get.

So far, no bottom has ever fallen for me. And I’ve never fallen for one of them. When the summer is over, the contract is up and we go our separate ways, the woman none the wiser of who she just had s*x with and me with no remorse or guilt about walking away from her.

It’s clean and easy, about the only thing in my life that is that way.

My parents are divorced. Even though my brother, three sisters, and I are grown, they still use us against each other. We’re their weapons and they use us every chance they get. I hate it!

So, I moved as far away from New York as I could get. Los Angeles called my name after I finished medical school back east. And now Mom and Dad have a hell of a hard time using me to hurt my siblings. It’s great.

Moving down the screen, I look at one pretty face after another, but none are jumping out at me. It shouldn’t even matter what they look like, but somehow it still does.

A quick knock on my door has me closing my laptop. “Come in.”

One of my fellow plastic surgeons, Dr. Dena Dion, comes into the room. “Owen, come with me to dinner this evening. My old friend from college is in town and she wants me to meet her husband. I don’t want to go alone.”

“No,” I say, then sit back in my high-backed chair.

She comes around my desk and plops down onto my lap, then runs her arms around me. “Please, Owen. I’m begging you. I hate to show up to meet a married couple all alone. You can do this for me. It’s the least you could do, really.”

Brushing her light blonde hair off her shoulder I say, “I’m sorry about f*****g you, then not wanting to date you, Dena. I’ve apologized to you a thousand times for that.”

“I know you have. But you’ve still found yourself at my house more than a few late nights, sneaking into my bed. I think you feel more for me than you’re letting on. And I think I could make you into the man you could be if I groomed you.”

And now she’s pissed me off. This is why I know we can never have a future together. “I don’t want to be groomed.” I’m the one who does the grooming!

I pick her up and place her back on her feet. “Owen!”

“No. Have a great night with your friend and her hubby. I’m not dating you.” I get up and grab my laptop to take it home. “I’m out of here. See you on Monday.”

“Well, don’t you dare try to come to me this weekend after you’ve had too much to drink and feel like you want a taste of my sweet p***y, Owen.”

I open the door to my office and nod my head gesturing for her to get the hell out. “You have nothing to worry about. I have a lot of research to do this weekend. I won’t be getting drunk and bothering you. Feel free to have another man in your bed this weekend.”

“So, you won’t be using me?” she asks as she walks past me, then runs her hand over my cheek. “I know I give you a hard time about it, but I like it when I wake up to find you breathing hard over me, then taking me like some kind of an animal. I just wish you’d make it more of a habit.”

“I’m sorry that I do that, Dena. It’s not fair to you. You should change the locks on your doors. The liquor makes me do things I shouldn’t.” I eye her and wish like hell I could control myself when I drink too much.

At least I only seem to bother her when I get into that state and she seems to like it well enough. But I don’t really like the woman. She’s bossy, overbearing, and not at all my type. I only f**k her because I can.

“Owen, you turned thirty-four last week. When do you think, you’ll be ready to settle down? You’re not getting any younger. You won’t be a catch for much longer.” Her hand moves over my shoulder and she leans in for a kiss.

I back up. “Thanks for the advice. I better hurry up and find someone to marry before my expiration date comes up.”

Walking away from her, I hurry to get to the elevator before she does. That’s not the first time she’s used my age to try to knock my ego into the dirt. She can be such a huge b***h sometimes!

“Owen, I’m sorry,” she calls out as I step onto the elevator.

She stops as the doors close. “Take the next one, Dena.”

The doors close and I drop my head, staring at my shiny black shoes. I’m a successful man. I have tons of things going for me, and only one little thing that I don’t want anyone to know about. And that one thing seems to be my downfall, the thing that sets me apart from normal people.

If I could stop doing it, I would. I can only manage to keep it under control for just so long. The urge is building in me as summer approaches and my time grows near.

Soon I’ll be able to do it as much as I want and get it out of my system for a while. I just wish I could get it completely out of my system. Maybe then I could have a normal relationship.

Getting into my car, I open my laptop to check my personal email and find the page for the club is still up. A new woman’s face is at the top of the list.

She has a really nice face. Gorgeous brown eyes that look sweet staring back at me. Her hair hangs in a black sheet of silk around her heart-shaped face. Plump lips the color of cotton candy stand out against her creamy tanned skin.

Now, who is this Petra Bakari?