A brief medical check-up

Last year, I went on vacation to St. Petersburg. Since the girl, partly to meet whom I had come there, couldn't meet that day, I decided to contact... let's say... specialists in those matters... Several of the first phone numbers I found online didn't answer. At a couple of other relevant establishments, everything was already occupied. Finally, I got through to an available woman who practiced medical fetish.

A rather pleasant voice answered me, giving the address, place, and time of the meeting. On the way to its owner, I remembered all those spicy stories from my early youth, especially,

the examination and joint bathing with my mom's friend. My male member reacted to these memories almost as intensely as it did back then. The door was opened by a rather plump, but quite attractive dark-haired woman in glasses and a white coat, from under which black lace lingerie peeked out. After suggesting I take off my shoes, she led me down a dark corridor to the treatment room.

Here, due to the drawn curtains on the window, there was the same semi-darkness. The room was furnished with a couch, a medical table, currently covered with a white cloth, and a gynecological chair.

"You need to undress completely," she said in a tone that was not rude but brooked no argument, "clothes here." The speaker nodded towards a coat rack.

I did as I was told. My freed member stood erect. The "doctor," smiling slightly, nodded towards the middle of the room. Then, taking a stethoscope from under the sheet (besides it, I saw a couple of devices that looked like speculums and some kind of chain with two clamps, whose purpose I was destined to understand later), she began listening to my chest, gradually moving lower and lower; reaching my erect member, she "listened" to it too. Then, ordering me to turn my back and bend over a little, she checked my anus with her finger.

"Okay, I think I know what we're going to do with you," she said, "do you know how to get onto the chair?"

I nodded.

"Then go ahead."

As soon as I did, my hands were fastened to the armrests, and my legs were tied to... well, those things where they're supposed to be.

"Well then, shall we begin? Open your mouth."

I did as I was told, after which I felt two of her fingers in my mouth, moving back and forth quite quickly; coughing, I reflexively turned my head, to which came a stern:

"Face me," after which she roughly turned my head towards her and resumed this torturous yet simultaneously pleasant procedure, during which I turned my neck again, to which came again:

"Face me!" This time I heard more than felt a slap on my left cheek.

Finally, her fingers disappeared from my mouth, and the examiner began searching for something on the table. I closed my mouth, but then heard right by my ear:

"Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue... more! More!"

As soon as I did, a medical clamp squeezed my tongue, pressing it against my lower lip, and her fingers were in my mouth again, though not for long this time.

Again, she began searching for something to my right, and then, the clamps at the ends of that chain squeezed my nipples.

"Okay, there's a reaction..." the woman said with satisfaction, apparently seeing the changes in my member. "Let's continue." With these words, she connected some other wire to the chain, after which it felt like thousands of needles pierced my entire body, then the pain became weaker, then stronger again. Then the pain became constant: not burning, but very noticeable and making me tremble pleasantly.

"Good," the "doctor" slowly approached my spread legs and stroked their inner surfaces, "there's one more test left," with these words she squeezed my scrotum hard (but, God, how pleasant!), while two fingers of her other hand slowly but surely began entering my anus

"Mmmm..." I made a weak attempt to resist.

"Quiet! Or I'll get the big dildo, you'll see!"

"Come on then! Come on! Or I'll torture you even worse!"

And then, I came.

"Ugh," the woman said, "you're a hooligan, you splattered me all over. Alright, wait, I'll go wash up."

I lay on the chair for quite a while longer, already starting to think they'd forgotten about me. But then the examiner came and, freeing me from the restraints, helped me down, then, for some reason taking me by the hand, led me to the bathroom, where she told me to clean myself up.

When I returned, I saw the "doctor" taking off her coat for some reason.

"Okay, face the wall," she said curtly, wrapping herself up, "stay like that until I say."

I stood for a couple of minutes, examining the wallpaper, during which, from the feeling of fear of the unknown and the rustle of my tormentor's clothes, my member began to get excited again.

"Katya, bring the cream!" A door creaked to my right.

Then some other, younger female voice said:

"Wow!"

"Nothing 'wow.' Next time he'll know not to resist and come on my face, even though we didn't discuss it. Go on. Actually, you can look," she addressed me.

Turning around, I saw the "doctor" in black lace stockings, a matching bra and panties, over which, on leather straps, a strap-on was fixed, about four centimeters in diameter and clearly more than twenty in length.

"Like it?"

I didn't know what to answer.

"I see you do," my interlocutor nodded at my member. "Remember, I warned you?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded.

"Well, good, get on the couch in the knee-elbow position."

A couple of seconds later, I felt her fingers smearing my anus with something like Vaseline.

"Ready?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my pelvis firmly, and the next instant, I felt something hard penetrating deeper and deeper into my anus. The pain was hellish, but at the same time, I wanted it to go deeper and deeper.

"Mmm... More! More!"

"Good boy, otherwise I have to tie many up, but you're an honest boy. But I won't let you go until you come."

Finally, the dildo reached my prostate. Not stopping there, she began moving it back and forth, first slowly and over a short distance, but then gradually increasing the amplitude and pace, digging her short but sharp nails into my flesh.

"Come on, come on, help me! Why are you lying there like a log!"

I clumsily tried to adjust to her rhythm, but at that moment, streams of white liquid began hitting the couch.

"Good boy! Should I continue?"

"No, c... can I go."

"You may," I felt the strap-on disappearing from my rectum, "go wash up, and you can be free."

The end.