Stranger practices

Submitted by Patient C

Because the Doctors’ practice was being renovated and I suddenly saw a possibility to make an appointment. After an intense conversation, in which we discussed some earlier less pleasant circumstances, the Doctor jokingly offers me the thrill of a tree in the sweltering hot woods. I laughingly dropped a comment during the conversation that being tied to a tree awakens memories of pretty persistent mosquitoes and that I most certainly wasn’t waiting to be gawked at by equally persistent passers by.

At the last moment I phone him to confirm the appointment, but also with the message that I just haven’t had the chance to shave myself, which is enough for him to threaten me yet again with a tree, moreover, in public, seeing’s as I enjoy asking for problems ....... So here I am now, sitting on the train, on the way, with a juicy book about sexual fantasies and I am filled with lust, because it was weeks ago since I last got serviced. I have to phone the Doctor as soon as I’m nearing the place where he lives, and of course I do just that. In the meantime it's not only my heart that’s pounding, filled with expectation.

I get off the train and almost straight away see him standing there. Different to how I remember him, his sunglasses hide his eyes. According to my recollection he’s now less lean, but again he has that sardonic grin on his lips which tells me that he knows exactly that I’m not able to offer any resistance and why I’m standing on this station trembling with excitement. To his authoritative acknowledgement: 'And, properly prepared?', together with a nervous laugh I can do none other than deny this.

I try to answer in a pleasant and self assured manner, that regarding the hair removal, this wasn’t the situation but with my clothes I was prepared. I’m wearing my blue panelled trousers of which the legs fall open to my thighs when I walk. Under the pink t-shirt with a rubbery red heart on it, which has 'feel what you can't touch' printed under it. I’m not wearing a bra and I see his eyes moving and glance up on my erect nipples that are visibly poking into the material. As I step into the car the left trouser leg flies all the way open revealing the top of my naked leg. 

As we drive away he checks if I really have come prepared regarding my clothing and quickly notices that my undies, although a string, are in the way and orders me to take them off. Unfortunately that’s not possible, because the tops of the trouser legs have ties on them which are around my waist. This leaves me with no other choice than to push them aside. As soon as I do this I can feel a cool finger in my opening investigating the situation. With no problem he finds my clit and even driving he’s able to bring me within minutes to the edge of my top.

He dips his fingers in my excited vulva and remarks: 'You call that prepared?? Unshaved and you’ve got undies on and apart from that you’re soaking wet? What do you think other road users will think when they see how you’re letting yourself be fingered? Shame on you.' I startle and open my eyes. Whenever something is really nice or really scary they seem to take on a life of their own and close. I take a look to the side and to my relief see that the driver of the car next to us is looking straight ahead and apparently hasn’t noticed anything.

Later he told me that he most certainly was watching, but looked away when I glanced to his side. 'I bet that you haven’t done the exercises I gave you either.' I sit fretting about this. Which instructions were they again? Most likely something to do with training the pussy muscles, but I can’t remember for sure and just ignore his comment. I can only feel my cheeks burning and my leaking juice. I hear him say: 'There’s been a change of plan', and ask him if that’s a good or a bad sign. To which he just carries on driving, undisturbed.

'Should I feel happy about that, or worried?' trying to coax him to give an answer, but he doesn’t answer. Then I recognize the area where his house is and I am guessing that after all, we’ll be going to work within the confines of his treatment room. 'Get out of the car in a civilized fashion.' Really nervous now, I arrange the open trouser legs to cover myself and push the crotch of my undies in my opening. 'I’ve got a few things ready so go straight upstairs', he says. He is right behind me. Again no possibility to stall or protest and I meekly carry on upstairs to the attic room. 

He leads me to the attic which has in the meantime been renovated. My eye immediately falls on the pontifically placed gynaecology chair and again I didn’t dare look at the table with the instruments arranged on it. 'Get undressed now. I’ll be back shortly', he says and leaves me alone. My fingers fumbling from nervousness pick at the ties on my back and tummy, but I’m still completely dressed when he returns to the room, now dressed in his white doctors coat. He looks at me with raised eyebrows.

I fiddle with my trousers, fold them up which he says isn’t necessary, take off my t–shirt, wrestle with getting my shoes off. Then as I remove my slip, catch the smell of my own scent as it wofts up towards me. Oh heavens above, hope that it's a smell that he approves of. I am trying not to make it apparent that I’m standing here shaking from desire of wanting to be taken. I feel my body burning up and the trembling deep below. He orders me in a cold clinical manner to stand in front of him.

My body is reintroduced to the business like approach of his hands as they touch me whilst they glide along my breasts and unheedingly pinch my nipples. It makes me catch my breath which in turn is enough for him to come out with a comment that’s it's not the idea that I stand here getting horny. With moans of protest I say that I can’t help it. Which evokes an even more wicked pinch in my nipples. With that I feel fire shooting along the meridian to my cunt. That almost sucks it's breath in the same as my mouth. 'Turn around and spread them', he says curtly.

I daren’t look at him and hear him move over to the table with instruments. 'This backside hasn’t seen a lot of sun. We should first give it some colour.' I hear the crack of a whip. It doesn’t really hurt, more of a firm massage, but the rain of short sharp blows turn my skin pink and only makes me want more. More turned on, more pain, but try to retain my dignity and not groan out loud begging for harder, for more. I know that the doctor isn’t the hitting type. 'With your hands on the exam table, legs apart, back towards me', he says walking to the table.

I hear the whip being dropped on to the table and a soft rustling as he pulls on his latex gloves. My head is bowed, my hair is falling over my face and I feel my cheeks burn with shame. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m not clean from behind and whilst he sticks his fingers in my puss and then lets them disappear into my arse I get to hear this in a sneering fashion. Two, three fingers. Can’t have more than that there and I feel my knees start knocking and want the ground to open up. I feel myself go weak from shame as he takes off his glove, and notes.

'Hm, not clean, not shaved and above all horny. I can only conclude that you’re asking to be punished. On the table with you and I’ll assure you that in the future you’ll arrive more prepared when you come to see the Doctor.' Hurriedly, yet at the same time the feeling that I was in a slow motion film I climbed onto the table, unsure how he wanted me? 'Backside to the edge and legs in the stirrup.' He takes an instrument off the table. I feel the able stick on my own sweat and at the same time tremble as he opens and closes a sharp pointed clamp in front of my nose.

'What effect will this have?' is he asking me or himself and pinches a nipple between the teeth of the clamp. Breathing is impossible and the bottom half of my body raises itself up as he grips the nipple in the clamp. The sharp points dig in deep. I know that he only needs to use a little more force and he can probably pierce the skin, but to my relief, he doesn’t do that. He’s totally calm as he grips the other nipple and again my pelvis rises automatically off the table. 'Stick your tong out', he says threateningly and I feel the sharpness on my tongue .

My half hearted effort to put it back in makes him move down, 'No, oh no!!!' I say, but he’s already got hold of my clit and behind my closed eyes flashes of pain and pleasure are bolting through my throbbing bud. The muscles of my vagina contract with every squeeze of the clamp. I can feel an orgasm coming closer, but that is apparently not the general idea. A different sharp instrument appears, a sharp spatula with which he uses to scrape over my love bud. 'Am I able to peel that clit?' he mumbles and my body stiffens against the table.

My most sensitive place tries to hide in my lips, but with his routine experience he lays it bare and softly scratches over it with a dangerous looking knife. Regardless of how I try to keep my bud in, it just pushes itself out. Peeling, peeling resounds in my head and I feel the sharp edge of the spatula scrape over my clit. A feeling of relief flows through my body as I’m unable to feel the trickle of blood, but there’s also a feeling of disappointment too. I am still hearing the echo of those words that have grown in my fantasy into horrendous torture.

He puts the sharp scalpel away and comes with a black box with wires hanging from it. Electricity!! The last time I managed to hold on with it on the highest setting, but also screamed my lungs out at the same time. That prospect now filled with the well-known mixture of fear and excitement. I hear the warning words that electricity and the heart don’t belong together and with my small breast it’s just a short distance to my heart. An electrode is stuck onto my right thigh, close to my groin and then attaches it to the pinwheel. I can’t remember the official name.

He let it dance over my exposed body, tracks from the prickles that penetrate in to the underlying muscles. Shaking and contracting, stabbing and beating, enjoyment, fear and pain swirl in my head and I feel drops of juice dripping out of my cavity, blend themselves with my sweat and don’t know if I should beg for this gruesome feeling to stop, or indeed to carry on. For sure we haven’t reached the maximum setting yet, but in spite of the intense warmth my screeching makes him close the windows.

'I can see now it's time for more drastic measures. You’re just getting wetter and wetter. You don’t really think that’s it's normal to get so aroused from your Doctor?' I can only feel shame and turn my head away and half sobbing from my horny feeling try to explain that I’m not able to control my handiness if he carries on playing these atrocious games with me. He takes something off the table and I see it’s a bottle of alcohol and a packet of cotton wool pads in his hands. I know what that means. Disinfection is only done when you intend to go through the skin.  

I know that he knows that I’m longing for this, but at the same time am totally terrified. Whilst he’s cleaning the nipples I manage to stay relatively calm. My breathing is shaky and laboured, but I lay still. During the cleaning with a cotton wool pad drenched in alcohol over my female opening, sends flames through the bottom half of my body and I squirm back and forth over the black leather of the exam table. The alcohol leaves a burning trail, making me dry and at the same time excited.

I am even afraid that I can’t even cope with this stage of the treatment, but after a minute the burning ebbs and I move into the next stage of the treatment. He clatters around with a metal container. The needles! Oh no, not the needles! Actually I already knew, and now fear and delight really are having to fight each other for first place and fear is winning. Yet, at the same time I’m cheering, yes, yes, yes, right on ... the needles! I fidget on the table. Under me a pool of transpiration and juices have accumulated. I lie there, protest half-heartedly with moans and almost sobbing noises.

What a contradiction. Desire and the most horrendous fear. No, don’t do it, and yes oh yes, make me submit to this! A long needle is removed from its packet, scratching with it as he draws it over my breast. Groans of complaint escape my throat, but I remain laid down on the table. I feel the hot tears burn behind my closed eyes. I am not even able to take a gasp of breath. 'Look at me now', it sounds reassuring. 'Just take deep breaths. You can do this. Hold me tight.' He must have seen the fear in my eyes and I put my hand on his hip. My fingers claw into the material of his white coat.

Normal breathing is impossible. It's either hyperventilating or not breathing at all is all I can manage. 'I’ll help you', he says. He takes a surgical scissor - like clamp. The ends of which forms a loop and places it over my left nipple. He squeezes it closed and I close my eyes. I feel the sharp ends pushing into my nipple. Feel the pressure increasing. The resistance of my skin gives way, I sob and then..... I feel the needle bore straight through my nipple. My hand grabs his coat in desperation. My pelvis jerks and my lungs suck and push air in and out in fits and starts.

'Look', he says firmly, 'it's already in.' My eyelids flutter open apprehensively. First I see his eager look. The tip of his tongue licking his under lip and then see the five to seven centimeter long needle piercing my nipple. Carefully he moves the teeth of the clamp over the needle and removes them. I feel a wave of relief.It’s in and I relax. I lay dead still on the table, aware of the burning trail it has left through my nipple. But of course he’s not finished. He’s already disinfected the other nipple. That’s apart from cleaning my leaking cunt and soon hears again a packet being opened.

I feel two short pricks in the tip of my right nipple and two small needles are standing straight up in my nipple. Then he holds the nipple tight and very slowly slides a needle straight in to the middle of the nipple. Not that I see that as I’m laying with my eyes squeezed tightly shut, hardly breathing. So very still, offering him the opportunity to torture my tits. He sticks a small needle also in the left nipple then says:'Watch now, while I bore through your nipple.' My gaze is fixed on my breasts.

I see the needles quivering in my flesh and above my left nipple a new needle is hanging with the tip getting closer and closer to my proud and upright nipple. My eyes are wide open. My hand grabs his coat, my eyes close again. I swallow, but don’t have any saliva and do what he says. 'Look, watch now. Here it goes.' My eyes open again. The tip advances towards the middle of my nipple so very slowly and then I feel and see how he pushes it in. I pant, quake and shudder, but can see before my own eyes that my nipples have been turned into two hedgehogs.

Then he presses my chin up and with the palm of his hand and I feel a needle scratching its way over the tight and delicate skin on my neck, every line leaving a burning trail behind it. What’s more, it's still sore three days later. The burning red stripes force me to hold my head high and my sweat stings on them. I know that I’m not done yet. He hasn’t disinfected my pussy for nothing and sure enough on hearing the rustling of the packet I know that another needle is being prepared. I’m laying there wide open on the table in front of him.

My neck still extended and my thighs spread wide with having my legs in the stirrups. He holds the small labia, pulls it out so that the skin is pulled taut and quickly stabs a needle through it. I feel it biting and fiery tongues lick my puss. Then he jabs a needle in the other labia. I hear him mutter: 'I really ought to make some photos now.' Somehow I long for a lasting memory of this session, but it scares the hell out of me. If you want to blackmail me then that sort of photo would offer the perfect chance . So I don’t react, but just let it sink in. Neither do I react to his request to remove the needles myself.

He talks to me. How would I feel if there were more people present? If they could see how horny I get from his treatment? Could they join in.... or just watch? Can he see on me that I would like nothing better than to be held down by a whole army. To be forced to undergo what he or they please? Can he see that I ...Yes, oh yes .... Do I want to be tortured and taken by all of them? I stay laying down, undecided. After a few minutes he removes the needles. I don’t know if I should feel happy or sad, but luckily for me the examination isn’t over yet. He slides a speculum into my vagina and opens it as far as he can.

When he touches my clit I feel my pussy muscles contract around the metal and know that he’s intrigued as he watches the instrument jerk and shake. He lets a small vibrator dance over my clit and after a few seconds feels the tension in my muscles rising. My belly, thighs and bum contract for as far as a gaping cunt allows and after a few seconds an orgasm races through my body. Wide open and horny, sliding over my own juice and sweat, I lay there hoping and wishing for more yet half scared of what his next step will be. 

He lets me catch my breath, sending vibrations through my bobble, shockwaves through my limbs and again I come. And again and without any letting up the orgasm moves in a wave through my body. Suddenly the vibrator is gone and he pulls out the speculum. I hear the snapping of latex gloves being put on and feel a cold blob land on my pussy. Lubricant gel, that can only mean that the doctor still isn’t convinced of my maximal stretching capacity and that he needs to improve that with handwork.

He pushes three fingers in me, turns and pushes them deeper inside. Then shoves a fourth finger in. I feel how my stretched cunt is filled up, further and further. By turning and pressing he knows how to push his whole hand into me. My opening clamps itself onto his wrist and I feel the suction of my uterus not wanting to let go of his hand. He gently pushes his full fist backwards and forwards in the normally narrow space. The tissue becomes smoother and smoother as he pumps his hand in and out of me. He thrusts, pulls back slowly and then thrusts again.

My hungry muscles feast upon his hand and suck themselves around his wrist. Again he thrusts into me, lets the hand nearly come out then thrusts anew. The burning heat in my crotch is surging. My head is buzzing and the world feel as if it's askew, in a whirlwind of delight. No other thoughts than that hand inside me, that pumping, thrusting hand. My cunt feels wonderfully warm whilst an incredible pressure is building within me. Then I feel my juice squirt out of me onto my thighs. Oh God, oh God oh God. It shoots, it cascades and squirts out of me, pools of moisture.

As supple as he can move his hand in me now, the waves of delight raise me up to unknown heights, I’ve only just come and shit, the next one is there. Nothing else matters anymore. Away from all other thoughts, to be on my own and to feel how my throbbing cunt is being pushed open with his fist. The waves dwindle slowly away and he pulls his hand from within me. I lay there totally open, knocked out by my own pleasure. I need five minutes for sure to come back down to earth and lay minutes long breathless on the table.

I can feel the soggy moisture under me creeping up towards my back. I ask myself if I’ll ever be able to walk normal again. I just hope that only normal ejaculatory fluids have come out and no other excrement such a pee, or worse. 'And if you think of turning up again unshaven and an opening that hasn’t been cleaned, you‘ll know about it', he says whilst he gets a syringe and a huge needle which has room for 20 ml’s and waves it in from of my face. 'I can do an injection under that knob of yours. Make it stick out more. Then I can treat it better.

Or do we need to put you in the bathroom and squirt your ass so full that you can’t hold it any longer and let you stand in your own mess?' I react cool and say that I’ll go on a diet a week before I come here again and the fact that I hadn’t shaved wasn’t a question of time.  I’d been staying on a boat whose shower possibilities made shaving a problem. Then I’m told to go and get showered. With shaking knees I walk downstairs. My body pounds and burns, which only gets worse under the warm water, but fills me with a feeling of satisfaction.

Although if I’d have dared say it, and had we had more time, I wish I could have asked for more. In the car on the way back to the station he asks me if I’ll be his patient during the opening of his new practice. I feel honoured and flattered. And proud too when he tells me I’m the first patient who has watched when the needle was being put in. He says goodbye with the words that I should write another report of the treatment I’ve had and that he hopes to hear more about my most intimate thoughts and desires. Blushing with shame, or is it a blush of craving and lust, I flee into the station.

So with this report I’m meeting the first part of his request and I’ll delay the second until a later date. How can I even dare tell him my innermost desires, knowing now that he’s capable of making them happen !!! Until the next time.... of unspeakable courage.... and who knows when that will be? 


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