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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BOTTOMS IN BONDAGE
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Chapter Twelve
Bare-bottomed I go to the magazine rack. The magazines are crisp,
new. This is a pleasant doctorÕs office. I remember going with my
mommy, a little girl, wondering if I should pop the question, ask for birth
control. I was in the third grade and just starting to kiss. I decided I
wanted a baby and did not ask.
Naked I sit on the chair. It feels smooth, comforting under my skin.
Another woman enters, with a man. She is naked also. Buck naked, her
hair tousled. She turns, I see whip marks lightly dashed across her
bottom. The man is dressed, though perhaps hastily so. ÒBe seated,Ó he
tells his girlfriend, his mistress. ÒWe must see to that bottom of yours.Ó
She sits down across from me. My eyes flick at her, return to my
magazine. I see her watching me from across the room. There is a low
coffee table between us.
ÒYoung lady?Ó A sweet voice. It snaps out from the receptionistÕs
desk, floats a bit at the end. I do not notice it. Deliberately I read how to
impress boys. ÒYoung lady?Ó Hastily I look up. The voice cannot be
ignored. It is always so in a doctorÕs office. The voice calls and you do
not hear, calls again, you look up, in haste you drop whatever you have,
rush up to be seen to, inoculated, injected. The receptionist is looking
right at me. I stand, move quickly to her. It is the young adult girl, the
college girl in her early 20Õs. She is dressed differently now. She has on
a nurseÕs hat and a white dress. Somehow I sense she wears nothing
underneath. Her dress is unzipped unusually low in front, the sweet inner
curves of her bosoms show. ÒPlease sign in,Ó the nurse explains, handing
me a clipboard. I a pencil from a cup on the counter. ÒJust your first
name is fine,Ó the nurse says. ÒAnd the questions. Answer all the
questions in complete detail.Ó
I stand at the counter. My hips sway, move agitatedly as I realize
what I must answer. I bend low, my feet shift. My bosoms, peaked, hang
perilously close to the wicked form. It does not ask my medical history.
Instead it reads, under the place for my name, ÒSexual History.Ó All kinds
of questions are asked. The ones I do not know I answer with Ò42.Ó That
is the answer. When I am 42 I will know, Ôtil then donÕt ask me. Tell, but
donÕt ask. ÒI got pregnant from kissing boys,Ó I write in a space. ÒBut I
spit afterwards, so there was no baby.Ó In the girlsÕ bathroom in
elementary school I spit, daintily, sweetly. My friends had taught me how
to do it.
Poking my eraser tip in my mouth, I read the last questions. I write
in my answers. Some of them are silly answers, others truthful, others
still snide jokes, comments, girlish pranks. I hand the clipboard back. The
nurse reviews it. I look at her nametag. It sits high on her chest, on her
bosoms. It is pinned to her uniform. I expect to read a last name. Instead
it says simply ÒGwen.Ó A nice name. I like my nurse.
ÒYou may sit down,Ó Gwen tells me. I return to my chair. I go back
to my girlish fantasies. ÒMaÕam?Ó I hear in the distance. The
receptionist calls up the woman. She goes, rising in stately manner, but
absolutely naked, her bottom already caressed by the whip. I admire her
from over the top of my magazine. Her hips are full, womanly. They move
with a grace beyond my years. Sitting on my pert cheeks I wish I had her
motherly ones. Her waist is narrow, her back straight, proper. Her hair is
pinned up but coming loose. I watch the graceful smooth walking of her
legs. Somewhere up between them her cunny lies, wet, waiting. She
tosses a strand of hair from her eyes and takes the clipboard from the
nurse. I sense something. I stand, quickly, impulsively. Peeking over the
women, drawing closer, pretending to return my magazine to the magazine
rack, I glimpse the receptionist. Her dress is unzipped to her waist now,
pulled back. Her bare breasts show in all their natural glory. Like
newborns fresh from the womb they stand up, squeezed slightly by her
still-tight dress. She smiles at the woman, the woman lets a smile slip
out in return. The receptionist sees me. She rises. She does not re-close
her dress. ÒI must admit our brand new patient,Ó she says to the woman.
The woman glances over her shoulder at me. She is temporal, worldly.
There is a look of uncaring in her eyes. She has already played the games I
am about to embark on. She glances at me.
ÒYes,Ó the woman says. She turns back to the form in her hands.
ÒYou have different questions from what I have seen before,Ó she says.
ÒWe have different instruments,Ó the nurse replies. Gwen
disappears a moment, reappears at a doorway leading deeper into the suite
of offices. ÒCome in, please,Ó she says brightly. She is holding my
paperwork. My first name is written across the top, in large, girlish
letters. The ÒiÓ in my name is a sprouting flower.
I step within. It is air-conditioned, chilly. Gwen takes me into a
small dressing room. There are clothes there. A pinafore dress, apron
like, a bib in front but nothing but a big bow in back. It is made of taffeta.
There are panties beside it. Bows for my hair, long stockings for my
coltish legs. And new shoes, with buckles.
ÒPut these on,Ó Gwen tells me. She offers no explanation. I am
grateful for the clothes. She leaves me, closing the door behind me. I slip
on the panties, sit on the chair and roll the delicious nylon stockings up
my legs. They grip my thighs, stay put by their own elastic-topped bands,
encircling me, holding me modestly within their sheathing. I slip on the
pinafore, tie it in back. I put the ribbons in my hair. Curiously, there is
nothing else. I turn, display my back in a mirror. My panties are on full
view, my bare back, the backs of my stockinged thighs. I find a brush and
brush my hair. There is a tube of toothpaste. Aqua-Fresh for Kids. There
is a childÕs toothbrush. I squirt some flavored white gel onto my
toothbrush and relish the taste of it. I am bending over and rinsing my
mouth when Gwen returns.
ÒThe doctor will see you now,Ó she breathes. She breathes into my
hair. I straighten. I feel her opening my panties in back. There is a brush
of coldness. She deposits an ice cube into the back of my panties. I
shiver. She puts a hand to the back of my head, presses my face down
toward the sink. ÒRinse,Ó she tells me. I rinse my mouth again. She uses
my pose to her advantage, to impress the cube within my girlish
bottomcheeks. I feel the edge of it come in contact with my anus. My
cheeks clench, the cube is too big to get completely between them.
ÒWhy?Ó I ask. I am bent over, looking up at her, in the mirror. There
is a smear of white toothpaste across my upper lip. She fondles my
bottom as if it is a new fruit, fresh-picked at harvest time.
ÒThere are many tests we must do,Ó she replies. ÒDoctorÕs orders.Ó
I splash the toothpaste cream from my lips and stand erect. Gwen
steps back, admires me a minute. I turn around to her. I am ready to go. I
feel wet in my panties.
ÒCome,Ó she says. I take her hand. We go to another room. It is
small. There is a table here, leather-covered, for examining women. It
has steel stirrups protruding from its base. ÒSit down,Ó Gwen says. She
offers me the only chair with a wave of her hand. I seat myself. I reach
behind me to smooth my dress as I sit but find there is nothing there but
my bulging bottom. Uncomfortably I sit on the wet ice cube. It impresses
more deeply, more thoroughly against my anus. It is smaller now. I fear it
may go up me. Gwen turns, leaves the room, locks the door behind her. I
reach in back of myself and lean forward. I pluck the ice cube from the
rear of my panties. I look at it. It is small now. I contemplate popping it
in my mouth. Then I toss it toward the sink instead, a scrubbing sink for
the doctor to wash his hands in.
I settle onto my chair. It has no arms. I let my eyes drift along the
counter-top that runs along the wall next to me. I spot a soft cloth, black.
It reminds me of a blindfold we used to use at birthday parties to play
Pin-the-Donkey with. I pick it up. I see a gleam of metal beneath it. Twin
cuffs. I gasp. Lightly I touch them, still holding the blindfold aloft with
my other hand. I am curious. I fetch the handcuffs also, draw them to me.
The metal is cold. I cup the handcuffs in my palms, the big police
handcuffs. I blow on them to warm them.
I feel my pulse racing. I lay the cuffs on my stockinged thigh.
Gently I drape them over my thigh. I do not want to let them fall to the
floor. They might break. They could not, but they might. I am silly.
The blindfold. Would the naked woman wear it, put in on, if she were
sitting in here? Would it make her a slut? I feel the aphrodisiac coursing
in my veins, the wicked fluid we were all forced to drink in the carriage.
But then, is there any such thing as a true aphrodisiac? Surely there must
be. We were all wild in the carriage, bucking, thrusting. Such could not
only exist in the mind, could it?
My heart beating, I lift the blindfold to my mouth. I will gag myself.
I want to see who my doctor is. I do not want to go through the exam
blinded. I must report him afterward. Yes, for abusing me. Just looking
at me like this would be abusing me, wouldnÕt it? To have such desires, in
a MAN! The F.B.I. will send him a photo of me like this and arrest him.
I wrap the blindfold around my mouth. I wedge it between my lips,
so that they will show despite the gag. Carefully I tie my gag in back, in
the nesting of my hair. I will not tell on my doctor. I cannot. Not now.
I pick up the handcuffs from my thigh. I rotate them, let them
dangle. They will keep me from being naughty. I cannot do anything with
them on. That is how I want it. I am innocent, pure. They are the wicked
ones. They are the ones whoÕs desires must be arrested.
I gaze across the counter. Is there no key for these cuffs? I spot
something gleaming next to a urine container, empty, new, waiting for a
mare to pee into it. There. Yes! A key. A key for my cuffs. Now where
shall I put it?
The front of my panties lie beneath the bib of my apron. I lift up the
bib. I open the front of my panties. I drop the key in, deposit it in my safe
deposit box. I can feel it pressing against the lips of my pussy. It feels
cold, hard.
I put my arms behind me. I thrust my wrists through the ribs of the
open chair back. I lift the first cuff with one hand, guide it, so that it
will snap shut over my left wrist. Click. One down, one to go. Then I will
be patient. I will have to wait for the doctor then. I hope he is not long. I
might have to go to the bathroom eventually. I would not want to wet my
new panties.
A problem. I cannot get myself cuffed. My arms behind me, a rib of
the chair running up the middle of my back. I have my wrists thrust
through the ribs that form the back of the chair, my one hand cuffed. I
must cuff the other wrist if I am to be secured to the chair. I struggle. I
bend forward, my tongue at the corner of my mouth, protruding.
Click. It is simple, easy suddenly. And I am captive. Now I must
wait.
I hear a door open, shut. Someone has entered the exam room next
door. I hear talking. Something falls over. ÒNo!Ó I hear. And then the
crack of leather. A scream. Suddenly I realize. It is the bare-bottomed
woman, the one brazenly naked, come for her exam. She does not sound
quite so confident now, though I am sure she is still quite as naked as
when I first met her. More smacks of leather. More shouts, cries, a sound
of a woman barking commands at her. Then the grunts of a man. Moans,
screamy-moans. At last silence. I listen to it all, shivering, wishing I
were free of my cuffs now. Yet I cannot help rubbing my thighs together, a
little bit. Then I wait some more, my legs spread much wider than they
should be when I am waiting to meet a strange man.
Suddenly my door opens. The nurse steps in. Her hair is tousled. Her
hat is gone. Her white dress is rumpled, her bosoms still showing. There
seems to be an awkwardness to her stance. Her face, flushed, she looks at
me. At first she is too preoccupied with herself to notice my
Ôattachments.Õ Then she smiles.
ÒDr. Alexander, this is Lisa,Ó she says to me, to him. The doctor
enters. He is large, looks more like a football player than a doctor. He is
perhaps 40. He wears a stethoscope, watch, and carries a clipboard with a
stick sticking partly out from behind it, on the far side of his body. Then I
realize. It is the handle of a riding crop.
And there is one other instrument besides. Neat in his starchly
stiffed uniform, but with his fly unzipped, his most precious and
important instrument hangs out, ready for use. His schlong. It is a long
schlong. It swings easily with his stride. He has used it already, I can
see. It is not hard like it is supposed to be. It looks moist, as if someone
has just washed it.
ÒIÕm sorry to make you wait,Ó Dr. Alexander tells me. ÒI was busy
attending to another patient.Ó He exchanges a glance with his nurse, who
briefly blushes a deeper hue.
ÒIÕm Lori,Ó the nurse tells me.
ÒWhat is your first name?Ó I ask the doctor. He smiles. The nurse
smiles. My voice is muffled by my gag. Lori reaches down, her breasts
hanging, plump, gently pulls down my gag so I can talk.
ÒSilly girl,Ó she says. ÒHow can you ask the doctor questions if you
are playing with our equipment?Ó
I blush more deeply. Then I do my best to compose myself. I fix my
eyes again on the doctor. He is the pervert, not me. Surely not me. My
eyes wander to his cock. It is long, bold. ItÕs girth is wide. ÒWhat is your
first name?Ó I ask again. In my mind somewhere a first-grade version of
myself wants to ask him the name of his friend in his pants.
ÒAlexander, that is his first name, at least here,Ó Lori smiles. ÒWe
call him Alexander, as in ÔAlexander the Great.ÕÓ She pauses, laughs. ÒDo I
need to tell you why?Ó I blush. I gaze at his cock.
ÒNo,Ó I reply sheepishly. He is quite large. He lengthens as I look at
him. I wonder how big he gets when he is fully hard.
ÒQuite big,Ó the nurse replies, reading my mind. With delicate
fingers she bends again and restores my gag to my mouth. She fixes it
show my lips show, prettily. I must always be pretty. Especially for
Alexander, here, with his long dong that swings along. Still bent, the
nurse unties my pinafore dress. She removes it, folds it neatly, lays it
upon the counter. I gaze up at the doctor with my boobs freely displayed
to him, my nipples at crisp attention. His schlong gets longer, begins to
rise.
ÒHave her stand, would you?Ó the doctor orders my nurse. Lori
bends.
ÒWhere is the key, darling?Ó she asks me. She pulls my gag down
again. I sense it will be as much of a bib tonight as a gag. It will keep
semen from spilling on my breasts.
Lori looks at me inquiringly. She wants the key. I do not want to
tell her. I twist my hips, I feel a sense of abandon. I love resisting. Lori
senses, slaps my face. I feel the blow, sweet yet painful upon my cheek.
My ears ring. ÒThe key, little girl. Do not play games with doctor. His
time is very valuable.Ó I thrust my cunny at her, my legs spread, shifting
my hips forward on the chair. She spies the tell-tale outline of the key
bulging within the pouch of my panties. Gently she opens the front of my
undies, dips her finger within. She fetches the key and tickles my clitty
before departing.
ÒHere, doctor. She was being naughty,Ó Lori tells Dr. Alexander. He
nods.
ÒA common problem with patients at this clinic,Ó he observes.
ÒDonÕt worry, I can help you with your problem,Ó he assures me. He puts
the clipboard down and retains the riding crop. Lori bends over me,
breathes down my neck as she unfastens me from the cuffs. Behind her,
the doctor lifts her dress inquiringly. With a sudden flick, he gives her a
sharp crack across her bottom with his crop. Lori shouts from behind my
head. She finishes undoing my cuffs. She stands. She makes to straighten
her dress.
ÒI donÕt have time for that, get the drugs,Ó the doctor orders her.
Bashfully Lori turns. She walks to the cabinets across the room. In
behind, her bottom naked, rearing, rolls beneath the bunched-up back of
her dress. I see a single, bright red line across her heinie. I know she
feels it. I bring my hands in front of me. I stretch out my arms, I turn my
wrists. It feels good to be free after the long silence, the long waiting.
Lori rummages in the cabinets. I wonder if she knows what sheÕs
looking for. Finally she returns, her bosoms rolling between the tight-
squeezing halves of her open-front dress. Her nipples stand rigid, twin
soldiers in the service of their queen. I see a syringe. I sit bolt upright.
ÒDonÕt worry, itÕs nothing that will hurt you,Ó Lori assures me.
ÒThis is a sex exam,Ó the doctor says roughly, impatiently.
ÒYou need to be as sexed as possible,Ó Lori adds, softly, brooking no
disobedience, yet understanding my fear. She unfolds a little white cloth
and lays it on the counter-top beside me. There she puts down the syringe,
a length of rubber tubing. She also places a metal container there, and a
small urine cup.
ÒThe needle will hurt me,Ó I say, gazing at the syringe. Lori looks at
me. She laughs.
ÒYou look as scared as a little rabbit,Ó Lori replies. ÒYour ass is
going to hurt like the dickens when your exam is over. Why are you
worried about a little shot in the arm?Ó
ÒMy ass wonÕt hurt like the dickens,Ó I reply, pouting, sullen. I reach
back, smooth my hands over my protecting undies.
ÒWell, thatÕs up to the doctor,Ó Lori says. I glance at him. To my
surprised delight I see that he has become hard.
ÒPlease donÕt hurt me,Ó I say to him. I am meek. I am a little mouse.
ÒWell, that might depend,Ó he replies. ÒHow well can you suck?Ó
ÒVery well!Ó I volunteer. He presents himself to me and I eagerly
lean forward. I do not want his crop whacking me. I am compliant,
submissive. I get my mouth around his huge knob and awkwardly begin
sucking it between my full, pursed lips.
ÒHavenÕt you ever done this before?Ó he asks. He looks down at me,
amused. I shake my head Ôno,Õ looking up at him in reply, hoping he does
not mind my inexperience.
Lori presses a hand to my shoulder, my chest. ÒSit back, darling,Ó
she advises. She pulls me from the doctorÕs big cock. My lips seem to
emit a popping sound as I am loosed from his prong. I sit back in my chair,
lick my lips. She takes the doctorÕs stethoscope off his chest. Turning,
she puts it to her ears and applies the cold metal disk at the end of it to
my left nipple.
Òmmmm,Ó she smiles at me. ÒGood blood flow in this one. You could
still deliver lots of milk even if you had it pierced.Ó I tremble. I should
get up, grab the door handle, try to fight my way past my big football-
player doctor. But because of the aphrodisiac in me I say nothing. Instead
a feel a desire to remove my panties. I hook my thumbs in the waistband
on either side of my hips, lift, let go. The waistband snaps back against
my skin, stinging me. The doctor watches. He misses nothing in my
movements.
My other nipple is tested, listened to attentively by Lori. When she
is done she tweaks it once with her fingers, checking its resiliency, then
the other one. She slides the stethoscope down my belly. Over the gentle
curve of my belly it travels. She stops at the waistband of my panties.
Then, with a womanÕs delicate touch, she opens me in front and slips the
metal disk down to my cunny. I wet it with my excitement. I am moist,
hungry. Lori smiles, listens, strokes my tumbling locks where they tumble
down the side of my head. She withdraws the stethoscope and gives it
back to the doctor.
ÒLisaÕs vital signs sound good,Ó Lori reports to him. The doctor nods.
ÒProceed,Ó he says offhandedly, as if bored. But from the stiffness
of his cock I can see he is anything but bored. His free hand, the one
without the crop, brushes his thighs, as if wishing his pants werenÕt
there. I sleek my fingertips along the insides of my thighs. We have the
same feelings, desires, wants. But the nurse must complete her exam
first.
ÒAre you a real nurse?Ó I blurt suddenly. She looks down at me,
always smiling, delicate in her movements, admiring me with her every
touch.
ÒOf course not, dear,Ó she replies. ÒNor is Alexander the Great there
a doctor. But I am a first-year nursing student, and he has plenty of
experience examining young girls. So donÕt worry, youÕre in good hands.Ó
Lori lifts my wrist. She is wearing a watch with a white wrist
band. No bra, but a watch. No panties either, I remind myself. At least I
have my panties on. I am ahead of even the doctor, with his underwear
open, his cock out. I am the most modest, the most moral. I feel a sense
of pride in that.
Lori times my pulse. Next she rummages in a drawer near me and
pulls out a blood pressure cuff. She has me hold out my arm, attaches it,
inflates the cuff and gets my pressure.
ÒA little on the high side,Ó she says. ÒBut thatÕs to be expected.Ó
She writes on her clipboard. On the doctorÕs clipboard, actually, given to
her for her necessary work. She turns to the doctor. ÒOral or rectal?Ó she
asks, her hair flowing down her back, her mouth poised, her fingers
alighting softly in mid-air.
My temperature. ThatÕs next, I can guess.
ÒOral will be fine for now,Ó the doctor replies, smiling. Lori turns,
bends, a little wary of the rustle she hears behind her as the doctor
brushes his riding crop against his leg, slaps it once. She pops a
thermometer in my mouth and waits, watching it, until it is ready to come
out. I sit perched on my chair like a pre-schooler, ready for lessons.
Today we will learn about popsicles, class, and the big men who shove
them down little girlÕs mouths. ÒOf course it is very, very bad, but we
will tell you all about it just the same, so you can think of nothing else,Ó I
add in my mind, smirking. Every day I used to walk home from school,
wondering, worrying, certain a man would leap from his car and grab me.
When I got home the afternoon passed slowly, boringly, the cartoons less
and less exciting with each passing year. When I was in the middle years
in elementary school I learned to walk with a wiggle. After that my walks
home from school were quite wiggly. Still no-one came, just policemen
passing, protecting me from my would-be assignations with strangers.
ÒYes, a perfect temp,Ó Lori announced, drawing the thermometer
from me, a trail of saliva following it out of my mouth. She wiped off the
thermometer on the front of her dress, placed it on the soft cloth on the
counter, beside the syringe.
Lori picked up the rubber tubing. Thin, dangling, she knotted it
around my neatly presented arm. I was feeling randy, out-of-control. I
did not care anymore what they did to me. ÒThis will hurt just a little
bit,Ó Lori told me.
ÒWhat is it?Ó I asked.
ÒMore sex juice,Ó she replied. ÒMainlined this time, to get you really
sexed. DonÕt worry, IÕll take some too, and the doctor. We wouldnÕt give
you what we wouldnÕt take ourselves.Ó With a cotton swab and alcohol
Lori anointed the crook of my arm. Then she brought the needle down,
carefully, uncertainly. A stab. I winced. A squeeze on the end of the
syringe, LoriÕs thumb pressing down. I feel a sudden warmth rush up my
arm, then spread almost at once within my belly.
ÒGood girl,Ó Lori is saying to me, and it is over before I know it, the
needle out, Lori wiping my arm lightly with a second alcohol pad. ÒHere
they are,Ó I hear her announce, rummaging in the helpful drawer from
which sheÕd just drawn the alcohol pads, before that the thermometer, and
the blood pressure cuff. Whoever played in here last didnÕt quite
straighten everything up when they were done, I guess. Or Lori is new
here, doesnÕt know where things are kept.
Lori swaps out the needle on the syringe tube. She turns, goes to the
doctor. For a moment she takes hold of his cock, fingers it, holding her
syringe aloft, admiring the big vein running down the shaft of his penis.
ÒThe arm, girl,Ó the doctor replies, rolling up his sleeve. He breaks
open an alcohol pad and swabs his own arm. Lori lets go of his member
and he presents his arm to her. She has no trouble finding his vein. No
band of rubber is needed for him. Nonetheless, he grips his bulging bicep
with his free hand to constrict the blood flow and make his vein bulge out
more. Lori pricks him, a delighted look in her eyes as she stares down at
his big arm. Then she removes the needle, offers him a fresh cotton pack,
and he swabs the injection spot himself.
ÒUnh,Ó the doctor suddenly says. A grunt, primal. I glance at him.
His butt has reared forward, his cock sticks out with unusual hardness,
waving in the air like some line officer calling his men from their
trenches. ÒInto the enemy foxholes, boys!Ó I hear the officer call in my
mind. Doctor Alexander eyes me with renewed interest, his vigorous cock
pulsing and throbbing with a kind of desperation. ÒGod, my balls feel
heavy!Ó he admits to me, frankly, one lover to another, no barriers between
us.
ÒYou are full, I am empty,Ó I want to reply, but I just look at him
instead, my eyes flicking between his face and his huge organ.
Lori switches needles again, the fluid in her syringe down by two-
thirds now, the rest remaining for her. She goes to the doctor, presents
him with the injection materials. In his cupped palms he takes them. He
ties her off, injects her. She returns to me rubbing her belly, her womb. I
imitate her. I want to rub lower, fear to. Not without doctorÕs
permission.
Lori opens the metal box. She tells me to stick out my tongue. ÒTwo
aspirin, dear,Ó she explains to my wide, enquiring eyes. ÒTo relieve the
achey feeling youÕll probably have later, when weÕre through. Doctor will
be going several rounds with you, you know. ItÕs best to let this start
working now.Ó
I accept the pills on the tip of my tongue. Lori fills the spanking-
new urine cup with water and gives it to me to wash down the pills. As
she is bending to serve me the doctor comes up to her from behind. Aloft,
in his hand, he has a needle, fresh from the cabinet across the room.
ÒDonÕt move,Ó the doctor tells Lori. Startled, she turns, her hair
brushing over my face as she turns to look at him. He pushes her onto me,
her hands flying to my shoulders to keep her from falling on top of me.
ÒShe is not the only one IÕm going to fuck tonight,Ó Doctor Alexander tells
his nurse. ÒIÕm going to pop that tight little anal cherry of yours, and to
make sure I get up you IÕm going to give you this muscle relaxant.Ó Before
Lori can do more than gasp, the doctor has swabbed her briefly in back and
jammed a needle straight into the undercurve of her heinie. Lori shouts
into my ear. I flinch, feeling her jerk as the doctor does her. A moment
more and the act is done. Lori stands, ruefully, her hands flying back to
examine the damage. Rubbing her heinie, gazing with sulky eyes at the
doctor, I realize she is unintentionally doing just what heÕd hoped,
massaging her hinds to let the relaxant spread fully within her tight
cheeks.
ÒTurn on some music,Ó the doctor tells Lori. ÒI need you to dance
around a little for me, Ôtil your bottom feels nice and relaxed.Ó
ÒYouÕre doing me first?Ó Lori asked, her mouth suddenly agape. I
looked to see if she was smiling.
ÒI odnÕt know who IÕm doing first,Ó the doctor replied, his ÔdonÕtÕ
almost like a gasp of springing pain/pleasure as a new dose of the
aphrodisiac spread deeper within him.Ó
ÒI must have some aspirin too, then,Ó Lori announced. She ran to the
drawer and opened it, got out the little metal box sheÕd put away in there.
She filled my urine cup and swallowed three aspirin. ÒOne extra for how I
know IÕll feel afterward,Ó she told me, our doctor listening with a grin on
his face.
Lori opened the door to the room and went out, leaving me alone with
my doctor. He walked over to me. He replaced my gag over my mouth. I
did not resist, my chin uptilted Ôtil he forced it into my mouth so my lips
would show. He made me stand, turn around. He cuffed my hands anew
behind me. Then, removing his tie, he bound my elbows close together
with it. I felt like I was being popped open in front, my bosoms twin
marshmallows of flesh gloriously presented.
He turned me back toward him. My tits bobbled before him,
wondrously obscene. He gazed down upon my nippled peaks like a child
browsing in a candy store. Just then music came over an intercom. Not
muzac music anymore, playing softly all the while somewhere in
background, but hard-driving rock-and-roll, with the volume turned up.
ÒDance,Ó Doctor Alexander ordered me. I began to gyrate my hips, just like
IÕd done walking home from elementary school. My bosoms swung in all
their fulsome glory before him, entertaining him. He put his hands to my
panties and yanked them down to my knees. ÒDonÕt trip,Ó he laughed, as I
struggled to find my footing with my legs suddenly constricted by my own
panties.
The door to our room opened. ÒDoctor!Ó I heard Lori say, gazing upon
my new predicament. She entered, a new nurseÕs hat perched on her head,
slightly askew, as if sheÕd put it on in haste. ÒShe is our last patient for
the day,Ó Lori said to Doctor Alexander, watching my antics as I tried to
dance to the music, my legs ringed by my own panties, stumbling in my
spiked heels. ÒMy I get a little more casual?Ó Doctor Alexander looked at
her.
ÒYes,Ó he replied. Promptly she closed our door and unzipped her
dress all the way down. A moment later Lori was more naked than I. She
had not worn stockings, her alluring bare legs temptingly displayed all
evening. Now her pussy was on view too, and her belly, and of course her
lovely big boobs that bounced in rhythm to the music as she began to
dance.
ÒWhat about yourself, doctor?Ó Lori asked Alex. He smiled and began
to disrobe. Still dancing, moving in front of him, she helped him out of his
clothes.
For awhile it was just the three of us, lost in our own passion, our
lust for each other, dancing nakedly to delight each otherÕs eyes. Alex
presented his manhood to us, waggling it about like a schoolboy in the
boyÕs bathroom, pre-cum flying hither and yon as he marked off his
territory inside our room. We were his, he was ours, and no others would
enter upon us. We could dance the night away together, or play more
private games. There was only one key to this exam room, and Lori had it
tucked in a pocket of her now discarded dress. We were captive to each
other. We would make our own rules and decide our own fate together,
alone, just us three.
I, of course, was a perhaps a bit uppity in my thinking, for with my
wrists bound behind me and my mouth gagged, mine was not necessarily
going to be a voice that was heard or a lofted hand that was noticed.
Teacher could not respond to my questions. Alex, though, or ÔDoctorÕ as I
liked to call him, was most noticeable with his big thing sticking out in
front of him. He would get called upon a lot.
Alex still held his riding crop. I danced in front of him, taunting
him, knowing I shouldnÕt, guessing what might happen if I provoked him
too much. Within my gag I stuck my tongue out at him, wishing I could
insult him. He saw my disobedience in my eyes. I would overthrow him
and make myself Queen. He would do my bidding, not his.
Alex handed his crop to Lori. She accepted it eagerly. She was
jealous of my writhing body, so beautiful, though in truth her equal, not
her superior. She whacked my heinie. ÒHowÕs that feel, hmmm?Ó She
asked. It was a light sting. I flinched in my dancings but no more. She
whacked me again. And yet again. She got behind me and gave me two
more cuts. I was quite enhanced in my wrigglings now, dancing and trying
to cast of the burning sting of her impromptu cuts.
Next Lori, perhaps to AlexÕs surprise, slipped behind him and began
applying the crop to his buns. Stolidly he danced on, not stopping her,
impressing me with his huge cock by jerking it each time she laid on a
hard one.
Suddenly in my excitement, and due to the time that had passed, I
felt a need to pee. I tried to mouth my desire to Alex but he was too busy
trying to fend off LoriÕs cuts to reply. She was giving him quite the
treatment now, and he was not the true Roman heÕd been before. She
pursued him around the room, he shifting here, there, not running but
dancing in new spots, shifting his feet as fast as he could as Lori banged
away on his ass. I had to laugh. He looked silly.
Muffled in my gag, I tried to get LoriÕs attention. I clipped my thighs
together and looked at her imploringly.
ÒOoooh!Ó Lori laughed. ÒYou have to go pee-pee, Lisa?Ó She smiled.
IÕd hoped shedÕ unlock the door for me and let me out of the room, lead me
to the bathroom, maybe even uncuff me. Instead she opened a cabinet
under the sink and took out a toddlerÕs potty. It had a large seat,
curiously, as if somebody had expected that mommie might need to use it
too.
ÒSit down, here,Ó Lori told me. She put a hand to my slim shoulder
and guided me down onto the potty. I sat on it fully, looking utterly
charming and ridiculous, my stockinged legs chin-high, my knees at my
face, my bosoms wobbling. I pissed into the potty as Alex and Lori looked
on like loving parents might, proud of their preschooler for making her
first b/m. In my case it was just pee, though, filling up the little bowl
beneath me. Lori caught me up afterward, restoring me to my feet. Then
she bent down and lifted up the bowl IÕd filled, hefting the inner lining of
the potty with a small female grunt. Having laid down the crop, she fell
victim to Alex, who gave her a playful cut on her heinie.
Lori poured out my pee in the sink and then turned on the water,
rinsing it down the drain. Next she took her turn upon the potty, and
finally Alex stood before it and peed a long pee into it. When we were all
done Lori wet a cloth with hot water and bathed us each in turn Ôround our
loins to wipe away any splashes. Alex, having stood, needed no wipe-
down, but she did him anyway, perhaps to freshen away all the pre-cum
that heÕd been drooling from his slit.
ÒHowÕs your bottom feel?Ó Alex asked Lori as she wrung out the hot
cloth over the sink.
ÒA little jelly-like,Ó she replied.
ÒGood, youÕre ready then,Ó he answered. They shared a kiss as I
stood silently by, swaying my bare ass in time to the music.
There was a whisper between them when their kiss finally ended.
Lori nodded. ÒShe is the patient,Ó Lori agreed. She came over to me,
kissed me once upon my cheek. ÒDoctor must give you a rectal exam,Ó she
told me. She went to the examining table that stood along the far wall of
the room. Opening a cabinet beneath the table, she drew out a big fluffy
towel. Then she pulled out from the base of the table, at the back, a shelf
on which one might rest oneÕs feet, or kneel. Lori plopped the towel down
on it and beckoned me over. ÒKneel down, darling,Ó she said. ÒAnd lie on
the table, with your bottom sticking out for doctorÕs exam of you.Ó
Shivering, I complied. There was no paper sheet on the exam table
for my protection. Just smooth leather, lemon-scented, antiseptic. I let
my knees buckle and dropped them onto the shelf. I bent forward and
pressed myself to the table. I felt my breasts crush themselves beneath
me, swelling out on either side of my torso as a complement to my
lightly-fleshed ribs. My tummy, curving out as I curved in my back,
pressed to the cool leather table-top.
ÒGood girl,Ó Lori complimented. She unlocked my handcuffs. She
untied my elbows. Drawing my hands above my head, she tied them to a
hook in the wall. I trembled on the table, a fish upended on AlexÕs dock.
Lori smoothed my locks forward toward my head. She ran a hand
down my bare back. She traced the ridges of my spine all the way down to
my tailbone. Inquiring lower, she trailed her fingertip between the fleshy
cheeks of my ass. ÒSheÕs ready, doctor,Ó I heard her announce.
ÒGood,Ó he replied. I felt his approach. His hand pressed into the
small of my back. Big, heavy, calloused. ÒIÕm going to give you a rectal
exam, Lisa,Ó he said to me. ÒUsing just my finger, o.k.? Of course I wonÕt
use a glove because I want to really be able to feel whatÕs up inside your
virgin hole,Ó he told me. ÒJust relax. IÕve finger-fucked millions of young
girls like yourself and they all thanked me for the experience afterward,
and went on to take big cocks up their rumps later in life.Ó I questioned
his figures, silently, in my mind. His hand passed over my smoothly
presented cheeks, feeling their silkiness, their rubbery fleshiness, all
soft and so well-offered.
A questing. Somewhere within me there must be a holy grail. A
cherry, perhaps, waiting to be popped. A finger pressing hard against my
rose hole. I hear squirting. ÒMore oil,Ó is said, in a male voice. A female
voice laughs and squirts again. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trembling.
Optional: I remember my past injection. He does not know of my
past injection, deep-seeking.
Suddenly he is within. Bolt-hard, burrowing in, his finger delves up
my channel. Vainly I squeeze my cheeks together in an effort to keep him
out. ÒGod-Damn! YOU are the one who should have had the muscle
relaxant,Ó he swears at me. ÒItÕs just a finger. MY finger. DonÕt try to cut
it off!Ó I do my best to do just that but he plunges deeper, manages to get
halfway up. ÒIÕll have to whip her,Ó he replies, and his finger withdraws,
sleeking down my channel, popping out.
Lori handed Alex the riding crop. With his penis boldly displayed, me
watching fearfully in a mirror, he drew back the crop and whacked it hard
against my heinie. ÒYou must relax!Ó Alex roared. Tears sprang to my
eyes. How could I relax if he was going to flay me with his crop? He gave
me another butt-thudding whack, making me sob out my first tearful sob.
The next strikes were lighter, skimming my cheeks instead of driving
directly into them. It was as if heÕd intended the first two to be a kind of
wake-up call, to let me know he meant business. The rest, skimming
though they might be, still hurt most unpleasantly, each swift stroke
leaving a distinct burning spot somewhere on my heinie, usually across
both my cheeks, where the crop had made the best contact. A long slim
line, soon joined by another, then another still, each brushing across my
seat but striking somewhere deepest, leaving its mark there, evidence of
my misbehavior.
Bunching one of my knees inside other, my panties still ringed
around them, I bit my lips and tried to endure. Whack after butt-stinging
whack assailed my bottom. Alex had me crying openly by the end, a mound
of young female flesh, blubbering away. In his finger went again. I did not
resist this time. The will to resist had been literally beaten out of me.
When he was satisfied that my butthole met his requirements, he pledged
to me that he would fuck it one day and then proceeded to ream my pussy.
I gasped upon the table. He took me hard, discharging three times within
me. I was astonished by his strength. It was as if an oil well gusher had
got up me. Then he draped Lori over me, her butt above mine, and went a
fourth and final round in her ass.
When all was done I was released. Lori gave me back my clothes, and
I put them on as best I could, trying to look at neat in them as I might, as
if nothing had happened. She put her nurseÕs uniform back on, zipping it all
the way up. Doctor Alexander put his own clothes back on, even zipping
his fly this time. Lori patted my pantied bottom.
ÒDonÕt leave without finding a skirt or something to cover you in
behind,Ó she told me.
ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt,Ó I replied. We kissed. I still had the passion
in me, as did she. But I was sleepy, too. I wanted to find a bed of my own
and go to sleep in it all by myself, with no visitors.
Lori let us out of the exam room. We walked to the front of the
office, past the nurseÕs check-in window, at last to the front door of the
waiting room.
ÒBye, have a fun life,Ó Lori said, pecking me on my cheek.
ÒYouÕre leaving?Ó I asked. I considered them friends, now. I
regretted seeing them going.
ÒBye,Ó Lori said, turning to our mutual doctor. He kissed her back,
and I saw they would perhaps not meet again either. All was temporary,
for fun only, with no commitments. Dr. Alexander kissed me on my lips,
told us both we were pretty, and opened the front door for us. The
mansion waited beyond.
ÒMy carÕs out back,Ó Dr. Alexander told us. I did not know yet
whether I wanted to leave the house or not.
ÒMineÕs out front,Ó Lori replied, and briskly they separated from me,
one of them going down one hall, the other down another. Soon I was
standing alone, clad in my pinafore and panties, my ass still stinging and
traces of semen laddered on my long stockings.
30
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-END OF story EMISSION