Chapter 9
PIERCE
My heart is hammering in my chest, betraying the fa?ade of measured control. I’ve already broken my carefully constructed rules for this woman, and I unwittingly broke another. I don’t fuck virgins. I don’t train them. Jesus, I was so fucking rough with her, so eager to sink balls deep inside her cunt.
Pent-up anger radiates through every cell, threatening to push me over the edge. With anyone else, this would be over already. I don’t tolerate lying, even by omission. I get off the bed and start pacing the room, trying to ignore the fact that my cock is hard for her, even now.
“Sir…”
I scrub my hand over my face as I try to process what I’ve done and what she did.
“You signed the contract. How could you neglect to mention that you wanted to try something as simple as sex for the first time? God, the stuff I asked you about. I’m fucking livid right now. If you had any experience before now, I’d be chaining you up and punishing you for such a massive error in judgment. In fact, I would terminate the contract immediately.”
“Please don’t do that. I didn’t think it was a big deal. ”
“Don’t lie to me, little one. If you thought it was nothing, you’d have told me straight out the gate. For God’s sake, I ate you out in the voyeur hall.” There’s a weight on my chest—frustration, anger, and fucking lust.
“I enjoyed it… Sir.”
“Fuck.” I continue to pace, fighting the urge to fuck her into submission. I’m a castrated Dom right now. I’ve always prided myself on my rules. At work. In my playroom. I’m the master of every domain I inhabit, but this little one—she confounds me. I know I should walk away right now, but I couldn’t leave this room if it were on fire.
“I’m so sorry, Sir.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for losing your virginity. But can you understand why I’m furious?” I never lose control. I’m always level-headed. I hate how angry I am at this moment. We barely know each other, and yet I want her trust.
“I didn’t want the fairy tale. I waited for it and overthought every aspect. I let guys do the foreplay thing, and I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“How can you say that? Guys being inept at proper foreplay isn’t reason enough to let a guy like me fuck you.”
“Guys like you?”
“Yeah, guys who use women to satisfy their sexual needs without any commitment.”
“You committed the next six months of your life to me. That’s more than most women get in a relationship.”
“Why are your standards so low?” I don’t understand why she’s being this way.
“I’m nothing special.” Her words are a dagger through my chest. I’ve spent several hours with this woman, and I already know she’s different.
“You have no idea how spellbinding you are, little one.” I strut back over to the bed and slide in beside her, holding her in my arms. This shouldn’t even be a discussion. I’ve never had a submissive lie to me on this scale. When it comes to this lifestyle, omission is as good as lying. I should’ve listened to my gut when she said she wanted to remain anonymous. Venom provides discretion unlike any club I’ve ever been to. This place is locked down tight.
I should let go of her and leave, but I can’t relinquish my hold, something in me unable to bear this being her lasting memory of losing her virginity. It’s a big responsibility, which is why I don’t take on submissives without at least vanilla sexual experience.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
For a woman to reach her age and still be a virgin is rare these days, and I didn’t just take it from her—I ripped it from her body. I have no words. No wisdom to bestow in this moment.
“Please, Sir, say something.” Her voice is barely a whisper, breaking my heart as she begs for my approval. The way she addresses me—how she purrs ‘Sir’—has me wanting to make this better for her. I can give her tenderness if only for tonight.
“What do you want me to say, little one?”
“That you forgive me. That I can be your good girl.”
I reach down, cupping her cheek, our eyes fixed on each other. “You were so good, little one. Absolutely beautiful in your submission.”
“I can’t explain it, but I know you’re the right Dominant to teach me.”
I trace lazy circles on her back, at war with myself over what to do. I know what I want and what I should do are two very different things.
“You’re not ready. It kills me, little one. Believe me.”
“Please, Sir.” She pushes herself up and presses her lips to mine. Her kiss is electric, setting my whole body on fire.
Tangling my fist in her hair, I hold her close, darting my tongue out to meet hers in a slow, sensual fuck. My resolve dies on my lips at the sight of tears welling in her eyes. Rolling her onto her back, she moans into my mouth. I convince myself I’m making it right, giving her the tenderness she deserves on the night she lost her virginity, but I know it’s selfish of me.
She melts under me, her legs spread wide, wrapping around my waist as I position myself at her entrance, slowly working my way in. She’s wet and eager to take all of me, but I know she’s hurting. If this is the last I have of her, I want her to know there can be a gentleness to submission. A tangling of two souls if only for one night.
“Oh God… Sir,” she whispers, her hands wrapping around my back, digging into my shoulders as I rock in and out of her sweet pussy. I take my time, kissing her with a tenderness I never afford my submissives in training. She feels so fucking good, taking every hard inch of me as we lose ourselves to the soft sensation, our bodies intertwined. At this moment, we’re lovers. I’m not her Dominant. We move in sync, her hips rising to meet every thrust, her moans of pleasure driving me to the edge of madness. I want her more than my next breath, and as a silent, powerful wave washes over us, we find release in each other’s arms.
When she’s breathless in my arms, our limbs tangled together, I press my lips to hers in a plea for forgiveness. She might not see it right now, but when she does, she’ll hate me for taking her virginity in such a cold, hard, and calculated way. This is the least I could do to make up for it in some small way.
Guilt is an unfamiliar emotion for me, and yet it weighs heavy in my chest.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, little one. Loving, caring, everything you deserve. Not a guy like me, who’ll fuck you up and spit you out. Do you understand?”
She doesn’t answer, her breaths soft and even asleep in my arms. My little one looks so peaceful, and all I want to do is untie her mask and gaze at her blissful face.
It’s been three days since I deflowered my mystery submissive, and I’ve thought of virtually nothing else. The only time I get a reprieve is in the operating room. I have been channeling my desire to teach into my new residents. They are benefiting from my sexual frustration.
I set out the rules for my little one after we spent the night at the club—a first for me. She was so beautiful as she slept. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up, even though I never sleep with submissives. Having a woman in my bed has never been for anything other than sex. Sleeping—actually sleeping—is a foreign concept to me. I spent my years of medical training grabbing an hour here and there in on-call rooms, too tired and dedicated to bother making a home for myself.
Yes, I have an amazing apartment that overlooks Central Park, but it’s not what I think a home should be. For me, it’s all fairy tales and whimsical notions born of a childhood spent in and out of group homes. I’ve never known what it truly feels like to have a family and a place that gives me a sense of belonging.
Now that I’m an attending, I spend more time at my apartment, but I usually pass my waking hours at the club. The past three days, I’ve had too much time to think about her , fighting the urge to summon her to my room at Venom and do all manner of wicked things to her body.
In truth, I’m not sure how to proceed at this point, and that’s unlike me. I make decisions based on all relevant information and move forward in all things with conviction. This woman has me floundering.
After setting my phone down on the nightstand, it pings with a message.
Lavender: Good evening, Sir.
It’s shameful how my dick instantly hardens for her.
Me: Hello, little one.
Lavender: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a virgin. I hate that you don’t trust me. It’s been eating away at me.
Me: Have you decided how you want to move forward?
Lavender: I still want you to be my Dominant for the agreed time .
My pulse quickens at the thought of bringing her back to my playroom.
Me: Are you ready to be open with me?
Lavender: Can we take it slow?
Me: Of course. I’m going to send you some reading material. It contains more information about praise kink and degradation. Based on your responses the last time we were together, I believe you favor one over the other, but some submissives like both, which can be more challenging. Read up and reach out when you’re done.
Lavender: Yes, Sir.
Me: Goodnight, little one.
Lavender: Goodnight, Sir.
Unfortunately, I have to work this weekend, so meeting my little one is out of the question. To add insult to injury, I’m expected to attend the hospital’s annual fundraiser. Black tie. Very fancy. No kink allowed. It’s my idea of a penance. I get paraded around to all the wealthy benefactors. I’m basically the hospital’s whore for the evening. There’s a reason I got into medicine—surgery specifically. I want to save lives with as little interaction as possible.
The last time I went to a party was at the club, and it ended with my head between a woman’s thighs. She would definitely make this fundraiser more bearable. Although, I’d have to know who the fuck she is in order to invite her to join me.
The second I get my little one back in the playroom, I’ll have her begging to tell me her name. I will make sure of it.
I’ve said hello to hundreds of guests as I make the rounds. My only saving grace is the drink in my hand and the promise of a delicious dinner.
“How are your residents shaping up this year, Pierce?” My Chief of Surgery and mentor, Dr. Joseph Milligan, loves these events. I’m his finest protégé, and he’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. He got a kick out of teaching and passing on his expertise. I’m not so enthusiastic when it comes to my residents. It’s a necessary evil as far as I’m concerned.
“You want my honest opinion?”
“Of course.”
“Perrington is the only one who has what it takes for neuro.” It’s unusual for me to consider taking someone under my wing, but maybe this year is different.
“High praise from you, Pierce. You have standards that few could live up to. Imagine if I’d done that with you.”
“We’d still be where we are now. I’m extraordinary, and you know it.”
“I see you’re still an arrogant son of a bitch.”
“It’s not arrogance when you have the skill to back it up.”
He chuckles. “Well, channel all that skill into creating another you. I need more surgeons of your caliber.”
“I’m great, but I’m not a miracle worker.” I slap him on the back before heading to the bar for another drink.
“Scotch neat, thanks.”
“Dr. Harrison,” says a familiar voice at my side.
“Perrington? You scrub up well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of surgical scrubs.” I find myself lost for words. It’s amazing how different we all are outside of the hospital. I live a double life. It stands to reason that others do the same.
“Thank you.”
“Can I get you a drink? Pick your poison.”
“Gin and tonic, please.”
I flag down the bartender and order for my new shadow, standing in awkward silence until our drinks arrive .
“So, Perrington, have you thought about our last conversation? Your prospective specialty.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Walk with me. Dinner is about to be served.” Following me like a puppy, we take our seats.
“I came into residency with cardio in mind, but the more I have learned, the more interested I’ve become in neuro.”
“I don’t want to waste my time teaching you if you’re not sure.” It’s the story of my life right now.
“I understand, Dr. Harrison. I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and I would consider myself lucky to work under you.” My cock twitches. My little one has me on edge and turned on every minute of the day. Anything sounds dirty to me right now. I’m turning into Flex with the perpetual humor of a fifteen-year-old boy.
“You are lucky to work under me, Perrington. You have no idea.”
“Yes, Dr. Harrison.”
“So tell me, where did you go to school?”
“I was top of my class, pre-med at Stanford.” Impressive. “Then I went on to Harvard Medical School. I graduated summa cum laude.”
“Any other doctors in the family?”
“No. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom worked three jobs to put food on the table.”
“I’m impressed. How did you put yourself through college?” I’m not usually this inquisitive, but summa cum laude at Harvard is something to be praised.
“I worked as many jobs as I could growing up. I started saving for college when I was ten and started mowing lawns in my neighborhood.”
“You don’t strike me as the outdoor type.”
“I’m not, but I was determined to become a doctor. I wasn’t handed everything on a silver platter.” I track Perrington’s gaze, taking in the opulence and wealth in this room.
“I respect that.”
“Are you from a family of doctors? ”
“No. I grew up…” I stop myself. I don’t share my life story with anyone, never mind a work colleague. A resident. “Enough about that. We need more drinks. Can I get you another?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” I stand and make my way through the tables back to the bar. I never let myself slip like that. It’s no one’s business but mine as to how I got to where I am today. It leaves an uneasy feeling in my chest. I don’t do well when I don’t have absolute control in any situation.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I type out a quick message. I need to compose myself, and this is a sure-fire way to do it.
Me: Are you at home?
Lavender: No, Sir.
Me: Then go to the restroom and remove your panties.
She hesitates before answering.
Lavender: Sir, why do you want me to do that?
Me: It’s not your place to question. If you want to come back to my playroom, you’ll do as you’re told, little one.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, grab our drinks, and head back to the table, stopping to say hello to some of my fellow attendings. I know the head of cardiology is going to be pissed that I’m stealing their best potential resident. I can’t say I feel bad about it. I will always do what’s necessary when I want something.
A few minutes later, I get a text.
Lavender: Done.
Good girl.
Me: I’ll call you when I get home. Do not touch yourself.
Lavender: Yes, Sir.
Dinner is enjoyable, and I find myself deep in conversation with my new protégé. It turns out not all residents are a royal pain. I don’t bother speaking with any of the others trying to kiss my ass. If you can’t show me your skill in the operating room, I have no desire to hear about your cat, kids, or your bog-standard-vanilla life.
I don’t think I could ever live the cookie-cutter lifestyle. Becoming a Dom saved me from myself. When you grow up like I did, you have to find ways to connect with people. I’m sure a shrink would go to town on why I was drawn to BDSM and don’t even get me started on the fact that I train rather than having a long-term submissive. I’m all kinds of fucked up, but none of that matters when I operate.
Patients don’t care if I’m a warm and fuzzy human being. In fact, I think it’s often comforting that I’m focused on providing them with the best care possible rather than being their buddy. That’s what I tell myself when I keep my distance with patients. In truth, I don’t think I could do this job if I took on emotional attachments to every single person I operate on. Yes, it may make the wins even better, but the lows—emotional detachment is the only option to keep functioning and moving on to help the next person. I’m not saying I never get attached, but I try to remain professional at all times.
I’m not sure if Perrington has what it takes to remain professional with a difficult case, but we’ll find out soon enough.
By the end of the night, all I want to do is lose myself in my little one, but I can’t show weakness when it comes to her. She needs a firm hand and proper guidance. Going easy on a submissive in training does nothing to help her become a good sub.
When I arrive home, I head straight to my closet to get out of this penguin suit. I’m down to my boxer shorts when my phone rings. It’s her .
“Hello, little one.”
“Hello, Sir.”
“How was your evening?”
“Torture.” I love the bite in her voice. She’s got moxie.
“You didn’t enjoy being a dirty girl?”
“I loved it, but I was working. I felt like everyone was looking at me. Like they knew .”
“Maybe they did. Would it really matter?”
“Why do you frequent a club that requires an NDA? People judge the lifestyle harshly. Of course it matters.”
“Tell me, little one, what do you do for a living? Where do you work?”
“Details that do not need to be divulged.”
“You put so little faith in me. How can you trust me with your submission but not with the most meager of details regarding your person?”
“I…”
“Lost for words, little one. I should put that mouth of yours to good use.”
“Does that mean you will allow me back into your playroom, Sir?”
“That depends entirely on you. Come to me when you’re ready to divulge at least your first name.”
“But, Sir…”
“That is my final decision. As much as I crave your submission in the bedroom, I desire your trust more. Goodnight, little one.”
I end the call, not to punish her, but to stop myself from giving in. I cannot ask her to meet me at Venom. As much as it pains me, she needs to come back of her own volition, willing to afford the small mercy of her name. Until then, I will throw myself into teaching elsewhere.