Page 3 of Doctoring Dolly

Mr. Nelson was obviously a Dominant and used to getting his way which was fine with her, at least for this moment.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping back before making her way around the car.

By the time she reached the passenger side door, he had stowed her suitcase in the back seat and was sliding behind the wheel.

Without further comment, she secured her seatbelt. She pressed her thighs together and wrapped her arms around her messenger bag as her panties grew damp. Mr. Nelson was just the kind of man she wrote about. The kind she dreamt of. Strong in body and spirit. A true Dominant.

“Are you a Little, or just submissive?” he asked after putting the car in gear.

His assumption had her taking a breath. “What makes you think I’m either? Maybe I’m a Domme coming to beat on some submissive men for fun.”

Quincy Nelson had to fight down a chuckle at the pretty submissive’s statement. He glanced over and saw her pale skin with a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks take on a rosy glow with her lie. When she caught him looking her way, she turned her head to look out the side window and he was left staring at beautiful jet-black hair that trailed in a long braid over her left shoulder. With her bangs and clear ivory skin, she reminded him of a pale, freckled, modern-day Cleopatra.

“I’ve been in the lifestyle for a lot of years, and you don’t give off the vibe of a Domme. My guess is that you’re a newbie who couldn’t find what you were looking for back home and decided to dive headfirst into the lifestyle with a stay here.”

From her sharp inhalation, he could tell his words were spot on. He was not sure if his accurate observation came from being a Dominant for most of his adult life, or from being a newly retired Army physician and learning to read past the walls people put up when they came into his office. Military service members especially never wanted to admit when they were injured, sick, or otherwise impaired. His job was to read the nuances of their bodies and then convince them to open up so he could help them heal.

Coming to Rawhide Ranch for his fourth visit was a retirement gift he was giving himself. He hoped to find a sweet and slightly bratty, submissive to play with while he figured out the next phase of his life. Where he wanted to live was the first decision he needed to make. After that came the decision of whether he wanted to continue practicing medicine in the civilian world, teach at a medical school, or move into some other career field for the next forty or fifty years of his life.

He smiled when the resort came into view and his passenger gasped. “Oh, my,” she breathed.

“It is something, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing.”

The road circled around in front of the three-story main building. He eased the car forward, stopping in front of the six steps that led to the front porch that ran the width of the building. Several seating areas with large basket chairs, rockers, and swings called for him to come and rest under the slowly moving ceiling fans overhead. After twenty years of being in near constant motion, Quincy wondered if he could manage sitting and rocking for even ten minutes. Maybe he would start with five and work up to ten and then maybe even twenty during his time here.

Not forgetting that she’d never actually answered his original question, he gave it another try. “You don’t have to answer, but if you are a straight subbie looking for a play partner, I’ll be here for the week and would be happy to teach you anything you want to learn.”

That offer earned him another sharp inhalation as she whipped her head around to stare at him. “Thank you, I think, but I’m not sure things work that way here.”

She opened her door and tried to climb out but forgot about the safety belt and ended up slamming herself back into her seat. She dropped her head forward and muttered something as he reached between the seats to unclip her harness.

“There you go, you’re free now.”

“Thank you,” she said.

After a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and eased the door closed behind her.

Quincy popped the trunk before climbing out. A young man wearing a T-shirt with the Ranch’s logo on the front was coming around the hood of the car. “I’ll be happy to move your car and make sure your bags get to your room, Sir.”

“Thank you,” Quincy handed over the keys after grabbing his briefcase out of the trunk.

He sighed when he saw Dolly struggling to pull her suitcase out of the back seat. Though he wanted to order her to let him or the bellman deal with the luggage, he held his tongue.

She was not his submissive, or his woman.

Yet.

And she seemed determined to be self-reliant even though BDSM did not encourage such a mindset in a submissive. Sadly, while BDSM encouraged women to lean on a man, twenty-first century society did not. Quincy would love to teach her differently… but she would first have to agree to be his. She seemed to be just what he was looking for in a play partner and submissive.

All he had to do was convince her that they would be a good fit.

Rounding the back of the car, he shook his head. So much for holding his tongue. He couldn’t continue to watch her struggling when it was totally unnecessary. He approached her slowly, using his Dom tone as he asked, “Didn’t I tell you that you don’t schlep luggage while I’m around?”

Dolly jumped and spun around, losing her balance as she somehow fell over her suitcase. Quincy was close enough to catch her, pulling her into his arms before she could hit the ground.

The electricity that zinged between them had them both sucking in sharp breaths. The lovely woman dropped her head back and looked up at him. Her ice blue eyes with a thin circle of dark gray around the irises went wide and she appeared shocked.

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