Page 36 of Storm Bound
“Great. Now I’m going to revert to calling you Doctor, but I’m still in control unless you call your name, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Now, go and deliver a baby,Doctor,” he said, adding the emphasis on my title but in a way that told me he was boss.
God, I could get used to this. Too bad it was only for this house-call.
Eleven
Charlie
Iwatched Adam get out of the car in his full, sub, doctor mode, and I followed close behind him, feeling every bit of the rush in my body from our little exchange in the car.
But if I lingered too much on it, I’d get hard, and Adam didn’t need a horny, dumb dom right now. He needed a protective, caring dom who was in control of the situation.
The door of the Bates’ farm opened before we even got to the porch, and Mr. Bates, a man in his late thirties, was standing there, all color drained from his already white face.
“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Kravitz,” he said as soon as Adam stepped through and immediately brought his lips to the back of Adam’s palm.
“He’s not a priest, Mr. Bates,” I said since Adam was focused on my order. “Where is your wife?”
He closed the door behind him and took us through the living room to the dining room that was in the middle of the house, and we found a red and sweaty Mrs. Bates lying on the table that had been dressed with a sheet and pillows under her back to make her as comfortable as she could be.
“Hello, Mrs. Bates,” Adam said and approached the woman.
As soon as he touched her, she shrieked, and he jumped a little. I was more than ready to go stand next to him and give him some more comfort and courage, but he turned to me and in a deep, determined voice said:
“I need hot water, towels, scissors, and a trash bag.”
I quirked an eyebrow, but I didn’t dare challenge him. This was his territory, and I was under his command. Yet, as Mr. Bates helped me go around to get all the stuff, I realized he still hadn’t called out his name. So he obviously still needed me, needed to know I was in control.
When I returned to the dining room, Adam was looking through his bag.
“Charlie, can you hook up Mrs. Bates with an IV?” he asked and looked at his patient.
“Just call me Hazel,” she groaned. “I don’t want pain relief.”
Her husband went to stand by her side and squeezed her hand.
“It’s our firstborn,” he said.
“I want to… ngh! Feel everything,” she said and let out a loud shriek as she had another contraction.
“Don’t worry, Hazel. It’s just fluids because you’re extremely dehydrated,” he said and grabbed both her knees and squeezed them reassuringly.
Then he looked down at her cervix while I got the butterfly needle and the IV line out of his bag.
It was hard to find a vein when she was so dehydrated, but, thankfully, she was too distracted by the paindown thereto feel the pinches on her arm.
Once she was hooked up and Adam had sterilized all his tools, he announced to both Hazel and her husband, as well as me, that she was fully dilated.
I passed the IV to her husband, told him to keep it over her shoulder, and encouraged him to give the bag gentle squeezes to help the fluids flow faster. Then I went by Adam’s side, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
Being beside him, in the beginning of a tropical storm, delivering a baby on a farm. This was all kinds of exhilarating. For me. Not for the mother-to-be, of course. It was my first birth, so that added to my excitement.
I held a flashlight over Adam’s head and passed him his tools as and when he needed them. He also walked me through what he was doing, as if he were teaching me how to deliver babies. Wasn’t that super sweet of him? I liked that despite everything, he was willing—and able—to do this for me.
Who could have told me that a time full of screaming, blood, and poop would be such a sweet affair for me? But was there anything more beautiful than the miracle of life? Even when it looked like a massacre?
