The Curious Case of the Cocky Submissive
(or, why pushy bottoms never prosper)
he other day I got an e-clinic email from someone I'd never chatted with or even seen on the boards before. This was just after he'd addresed me in chat, saying he had issued "a challenge".
very interested in what I have read about you from posts and profile. I have had a catheter in for the last six days due to detrusor instability. I am going to emergency later to see if it can now be removed for a trial void. Would love to hear what you would do to me if I arrived at your hospital.
bye and looking forward to interesting treatment.
Yes I know straight male subs have it rough. Women are a minority in chatrooms, epecially the kinky ones. And tops are rare too, making women who top the unlikeliest creatures of all. That's why femdoms make money -- there's high demand.
But I found this presumptuous to say the least. If you'd like me write the narrative to your beat-off session, at least say hello, exchange a word about the weather, or offer me a virtual cup of tea. This also came the very day after I was discussing this problem with UK domme and fellow Star Trek afficionado cast_iron_widow (we'd been talking about how to let the boys down easy) and the same day she and I had an afternoon dalliance in chat. Once she'd coaxed a virtual orgasm out of my web-presence and gotten RL-me hot and bothered, I realized she needed to be written up in a complimentary kind of way. So this story sprang to mind:
Title: The Big Switch
Length: 998
Notes: Medfet / Humor / PG-13 / suggestions of ff
Summary: Dr. Lia Chan answers a challenge.
When I came in at six to pre-round, I had a coffee in one hand and a hot chocolate in other. The second cup was my excuse to talk to Dr. Iron, who I knew was going to be on duty.
Now that I'd been here a few months it was clear that talking to staff who weren't "your" residents or attendings was a tricky thing. Everyone was busy so the folks she supervised could get prickly if I took up too much of her time. Also, take a cadre of people trained to obsess over details who spent most their time in a concrete fishtank, and what do you get? Rumors. Big, hairy rumors that made the rounds quicker than a specialist before a golf game.
So even though I wanted to talk to my crush on a regular basis. I couldn't. And when I did, I always made sure to have an excuse. This morning's was an elaborate barista-made-a-mistake and would-you-like-the-extra-drink? I knew hot chocolate was Dr. Iron's thing. I'd seen her drinking that watered-down crap out of the vending machine plenty of times.
The petite and pretty attending was going over some lab results at the nurses' station when I made the offer. She accepted the cocoa with a genuine smile.
"Thank you Lia," she said in that precise British accent of hers. My heart flip-flopped. I had such a big thing for Dr. Iron that I was always having some kind of arrhythmia when she was around.
"I heard your Mr. Wolff is finally starting to stabilize."
"What?" I said, leaning past her to look into the room he'd been in yesterday. It was now occupied by an elderly lady with blue hair. "Hey, where'd he go?"
"I heard that they moved him straight to the CCU after the first MI."
I was floored. "He had a heart attack?"
"Yes. Nobody paged you?"
Somebody probably had but I'd learned, like any good intern, to keep my pager way the hell out of earshot when I was post-call. I went over to find Mr. Wolff's chart, but of course that was down in critical care too.
"He didn't have any cardiac trouble yesterday, or even any history. Why'd this happen?" I was royally confused. Also, listening to Dr. Iron and trying to keep my eyes off her slim, athletic body were making it hard to think.
"Nobody's sure. Apparently it happened right after his surgery, with one more since."
"Surgery?! What the hell?"
She looked concerned. "Remind me of his condition again?"
A couple of nurses laughed. I turned around, realizing they'd overheard.
"Don't you remember him, Dr. Iron?" said Gabe, all spiked blonde hair and sunshine. "He was the guy with the bladder problem. He just walked on up here before he was even admitted, cornered Lia, and told her he'd love to hear what she'd do to him."
"Ah yes, that one," Dr. Iron said dryly. She sipped her drink, eyeing the nurses who promptly stopped watching us and went back to what they were doing.
I turned away from the sight of her pink, pursed lips and got on the phone to the CCU, confirming my patient was in fact down there before rushing down to see what was going on. To my relief and increased infatuation, Dr. Iron came along. She walked fast. I had a few inches on her, but somehow found myself hurrying to keep up.
"He needs some kind of medication or biofeedback training, not surgery." I complained on the way down the elevator. Dr. Iron nodded and slipped out the doors first. She had this trick of turning sideways to get out of elevators when things were urgent. I tried to copy it, but banged into the elevator doors and had to really hustle to catch her after that.
"We're here to see about Mr. Wolff," she said crisply to the clerk at the central station. He knew to shift his butt when she had that tone in her voice. Half my mind quailed and the other half thrilled at the idea of it ever being used on me.
"The cancer patient, right?" He put the chart in Dr. Iron's hands and she handed it immediately to me.
I scowled at him. "Wolf's got bladder problems and a hefty sense of entitlement, but not the big C." I took a swig of coffee but then sprayed it all over the clerk and the chart as I read what was in it.
"A penectomy!?!" I stared at him with eyes as big as gallbladders (trust me -- that's big).
The clerk didn't answer. He was wiping coffee off his face.
"Who ordered this?" Dr. Iron looked over my shoulder at the hieroglyphs on the chart. "Lia, can you make out the writing?"
"I don't know. The notes get really confused after I signed him over. Says he was wandering around, challenging random doctors, telling them to treat him, even though he must've known none of them had a history." I paused, reading as fast as I could, "Seems like he somehow got mixed up with another patient."
We both looked up as a defib cart went tearing by with the team pushing it running to answer a code. Neither of us had any doubt about whose room they were headed for.
"'I guess," I murmured looking after them, "that waking up from surgery to find your disco stick missing would come as kind of a shock."
Behind me, Dr. Iron started coughing violently. I turned and patted her on the back. She thanked me, took a big swallow of cocoa, and then turned away. That was when I realized she'd been hiding a laugh.
When we turned back towards the elevators, I was considering how pushy patients never did do very well at this facility.
Was it karma?
he other day I got an e-clinic email from someone I'd never chatted with or even seen on the boards before. This was just after he'd addresed me in chat, saying he had issued "a challenge".
very interested in what I have read about you from posts and profile. I have had a catheter in for the last six days due to detrusor instability. I am going to emergency later to see if it can now be removed for a trial void. Would love to hear what you would do to me if I arrived at your hospital.
bye and looking forward to interesting treatment.
Yes I know straight male subs have it rough. Women are a minority in chatrooms, epecially the kinky ones. And tops are rare too, making women who top the unlikeliest creatures of all. That's why femdoms make money -- there's high demand.
But I found this presumptuous to say the least. If you'd like me write the narrative to your beat-off session, at least say hello, exchange a word about the weather, or offer me a virtual cup of tea. This also came the very day after I was discussing this problem with UK domme and fellow Star Trek afficionado cast_iron_widow (we'd been talking about how to let the boys down easy) and the same day she and I had an afternoon dalliance in chat. Once she'd coaxed a virtual orgasm out of my web-presence and gotten RL-me hot and bothered, I realized she needed to be written up in a complimentary kind of way. So this story sprang to mind:
Title: The Big Switch
Length: 998
Notes: Medfet / Humor / PG-13 / suggestions of ff
Summary: Dr. Lia Chan answers a challenge.
When I came in at six to pre-round, I had a coffee in one hand and a hot chocolate in other. The second cup was my excuse to talk to Dr. Iron, who I knew was going to be on duty.
Now that I'd been here a few months it was clear that talking to staff who weren't "your" residents or attendings was a tricky thing. Everyone was busy so the folks she supervised could get prickly if I took up too much of her time. Also, take a cadre of people trained to obsess over details who spent most their time in a concrete fishtank, and what do you get? Rumors. Big, hairy rumors that made the rounds quicker than a specialist before a golf game.
So even though I wanted to talk to my crush on a regular basis. I couldn't. And when I did, I always made sure to have an excuse. This morning's was an elaborate barista-made-a-mistake and would-you-like-the-extra-drink? I knew hot chocolate was Dr. Iron's thing. I'd seen her drinking that watered-down crap out of the vending machine plenty of times.
The petite and pretty attending was going over some lab results at the nurses' station when I made the offer. She accepted the cocoa with a genuine smile.
"Thank you Lia," she said in that precise British accent of hers. My heart flip-flopped. I had such a big thing for Dr. Iron that I was always having some kind of arrhythmia when she was around.
"I heard your Mr. Wolff is finally starting to stabilize."
"What?" I said, leaning past her to look into the room he'd been in yesterday. It was now occupied by an elderly lady with blue hair. "Hey, where'd he go?"
"I heard that they moved him straight to the CCU after the first MI."
I was floored. "He had a heart attack?"
"Yes. Nobody paged you?"
Somebody probably had but I'd learned, like any good intern, to keep my pager way the hell out of earshot when I was post-call. I went over to find Mr. Wolff's chart, but of course that was down in critical care too.
"He didn't have any cardiac trouble yesterday, or even any history. Why'd this happen?" I was royally confused. Also, listening to Dr. Iron and trying to keep my eyes off her slim, athletic body were making it hard to think.
"Nobody's sure. Apparently it happened right after his surgery, with one more since."
"Surgery?! What the hell?"
She looked concerned. "Remind me of his condition again?"
A couple of nurses laughed. I turned around, realizing they'd overheard.
"Don't you remember him, Dr. Iron?" said Gabe, all spiked blonde hair and sunshine. "He was the guy with the bladder problem. He just walked on up here before he was even admitted, cornered Lia, and told her he'd love to hear what she'd do to him."
"Ah yes, that one," Dr. Iron said dryly. She sipped her drink, eyeing the nurses who promptly stopped watching us and went back to what they were doing.
I turned away from the sight of her pink, pursed lips and got on the phone to the CCU, confirming my patient was in fact down there before rushing down to see what was going on. To my relief and increased infatuation, Dr. Iron came along. She walked fast. I had a few inches on her, but somehow found myself hurrying to keep up.
"He needs some kind of medication or biofeedback training, not surgery." I complained on the way down the elevator. Dr. Iron nodded and slipped out the doors first. She had this trick of turning sideways to get out of elevators when things were urgent. I tried to copy it, but banged into the elevator doors and had to really hustle to catch her after that.
"We're here to see about Mr. Wolff," she said crisply to the clerk at the central station. He knew to shift his butt when she had that tone in her voice. Half my mind quailed and the other half thrilled at the idea of it ever being used on me.
"The cancer patient, right?" He put the chart in Dr. Iron's hands and she handed it immediately to me.
I scowled at him. "Wolf's got bladder problems and a hefty sense of entitlement, but not the big C." I took a swig of coffee but then sprayed it all over the clerk and the chart as I read what was in it.
"A penectomy!?!" I stared at him with eyes as big as gallbladders (trust me -- that's big).
The clerk didn't answer. He was wiping coffee off his face.
"Who ordered this?" Dr. Iron looked over my shoulder at the hieroglyphs on the chart. "Lia, can you make out the writing?"
"I don't know. The notes get really confused after I signed him over. Says he was wandering around, challenging random doctors, telling them to treat him, even though he must've known none of them had a history." I paused, reading as fast as I could, "Seems like he somehow got mixed up with another patient."
We both looked up as a defib cart went tearing by with the team pushing it running to answer a code. Neither of us had any doubt about whose room they were headed for.
"'I guess," I murmured looking after them, "that waking up from surgery to find your disco stick missing would come as kind of a shock."
Behind me, Dr. Iron started coughing violently. I turned and patted her on the back. She thanked me, took a big swallow of cocoa, and then turned away. That was when I realized she'd been hiding a laugh.
When we turned back towards the elevators, I was considering how pushy patients never did do very well at this facility.
Was it karma?