'Next patient, please!'
You stand up. You've been at the hospital for about ten minutes now, anxiously awaiting your monthly visit to the gynaecologist.
It's not that you're unwell; far from it in fact. However, your doctor has suggested that you pay her a visit once a month, just to make sure everything is in working order. Normally you'd scoff at such an idea, but you've grown very fond of the tests she performs on you each month…
Not wanting to keep her waiting, you follow the nurse into a small back room; the office of one Angelina Dalles, A.K.A Madam Red. You shiver in anticipation as you enter the room, bidding the nurse thanks before closing the door behind you.
Madam Red is currently sat behind her desk, eyes focused on some kind of paperwork. Her gaze doesn't leave the document as she addresses you. 'Strip down and assume your usual position. I shall be with you in a moment.'
You do as she says immediately, removing all of your clothing before laying down on her examination table. The room is chilly, and your nipples soon harden to little pebbles. You can feel yourself tingle in anticipation; has it really only been a month since your last visit? It feels like so much longer.
Madam Red stands up, placing her paperwork on her desk. She walks over to you, heels clicking as she goes. She smiles salaciously at you, running a hand up one of your legs before pulling it away from its twin. You understand her silent command, and spread your legs as wide as they'll go. This seems to please her. 'I'm glad to see that my favourite patient is eager to begin. I think I'll begin by inspecting your vulva.' She moves between your legs, and you hear the tell-tale snap of gloves being put on.
You feel her fingers lightly brush over your labia, and try not to moan. You are in a pack hospital, after all; anyone could hear your noises of pleasure and mistake them for fear or trouble. You don't want someone to barge in here and ruin the fun.
After a few more light touches, she pinches your clit. You gasp in surprise, and she lets out a low chuckle. 'You're very sensitive down there. Has no one been playing with you lately?' She asks, a hint of curiosity in her voice. You shake your head. 'That's a shame. A body as lovely as yours should have regular visitors. After all, you wouldn't hide a painting behind cloth forever, so why hide this?' She stokes you again, and you feel yourself leaking onto the table. She gathers some of the moisture onto a gloved finger and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the taste.
'Have you ever sampled yourself? You really should. Your taste is exquisite.' She coats a finger in your juices again and offers it to you. You suck on it eagerly, loving the taste of yourself mixed with the latex of the glove. She trails the finger out of your mouth slowly, rubbing it across your lips until they're glistening with saliva.
She saunters over to your side, grabbing the breast farthest away from her. She begins toying with your nipple as she talks.
'You know, part of my job is to prepare women for marriage. I have to make sure that they're in top shape before I can allow their husbands to do as they please. Usually I do it by observation and testing, but I feel like you'd benefit from a more hands-on examination. I'm going to introduce you to a friend of mine. I think you'd love it, you filthy little harlot.' You love it when she calls you names. The shame of being called a harlot, combined with all the things she likes to do to you make this affair seem like the most sinfully sweet thing in the world. You love the way she makes you feel, and you know you'll never tire of her pleasuring you.
She moves away from you, looking for something across the room. She returns with a long wooden box and some lubricant of some kind. When she opens the box, your eyes widen in surprise; it's some kind of fake phallus, made from what looks like polished wood. You shuffle back a little out of anxiety; is she really going to put that inside of you?
She sees the look of fear on your face. 'Don't worry, my dear. This'll fit inside of you perfectly by the time I'm finished with you.' She starts spreading lubricant onto the faux shaft, and you feel yourself growing a little wet at the sight. She makes sure the object is dripping wet before setting in to one side, smearing leftover lub in and around your opening. When she's done, she attaches your ankles to the straps on either side of the examination table, preventing you from closing your legs.
'Perfect. We're all set for your examination. First, I'll need to loosen you up a bit.' She puts some more of the lubricant on her fingers before slipping one inside of you. You gasp at the intrusion, still not used to it even after all your months of visiting. She smiles as she crooks it, looking for a particular spot. You have to throw your arm over your mouth to keep from screaming when she finds her target. The pleasure of her rubbing against your walls is enough to distract you from her adding a second finger. You start to feel a bit sore as she works on scissoring you open, but the underlying pleasure makes any discomfort worthwhile.
You're genuinely shocked when she adds a third finger; she's never done that before. Your opening is wider than it's ever been, stretched by Madam Red's clever fingers.
She reaches her head down to suckle on your clit as she works on your opening. Your body suddenly reaches climax, your legs spasming in their restraints, desperate to be free. The pleasure is glorious, made greater by your doctor's ministrations.
When you finally come down, you're greeted by the sight of Madam Red hiking her skirt up to her waist before climbing onto you, turning to face your legs before crawling back a bit. You understand her intentions, moving your head forwards just enough to allow her to position her own sex over your face. She isn't wearing anything under her dress, giving you unrestricted access to her private quarters. The smell of her arousal is dizzying, and you can't help but give her opening a small lick. She lets out a moan.
'Wait until I've begun your examination. Then you can feast upon me all you like.' You move your head back slightly, praying that she hurries up so you can drink down her essence. You feel something hard poke against your opening, and assume it's her instrument. It slides into you slowly, installing a feeling of fullness inside of you that you've never known. It's almost pleasurable enough to make you want a husband, but not quite. The instrument itself might feel nice, but having to deal with what's attached to it isn't worth it.
Madam Red slowly moves the phallus in and out, taking care to be gentle with you. It stings a bit, but the pleasure is worth it.
'You may begin your meal, my filthy little harlot.' You don't need telling twice. Your tongue begins lapping at her opening greedily, like a parched man at an oasis. She tastes different to you, but no less appetising. You bury your tongue inside her, determined to drink her nectar straight from its source. You creep a hand up to play with her clit, while she continues her examination of you.
After a while, her movements become erratic, as if she can't focus anymore. You know this means she must be close, so you redouble your efforts, eating her out with all the passion and determination you can muster.
She abandons her attempt at pleasing you, and instead begins grinding herself against your mouth, determined to finish as soon as possible. You reach for the object between your legs with your one free hand, and take up where she left off, pleasuring yourself whilst pleasing her.
She caves mere moments before you do, her release pouring into your mouth and down your chin. You lap up all that you can, the taste and the sensation triggering your second and final release. It's unusual for your walls to have something so solid to cling onto, but you love it, still delighting in the full feeling it gives you.
When you're both done, she climbs off of you on shaky legs, stumbling over to the end of the table so she can remove both the restrains and the instrument. You sit up on the table, panting as if you've run a marathon. Your legs are terribly sore, as is your vagina. It's a sinful kind of sore that you hope you feel for days.
As you stand and redress, she takes you into her arms and kisses you deeply, her tongue and yours battling for dominance. You break the kiss before there's a clear victor, but you both know she'd have been the winner. She always is.
She smiles at you. 'Thank you for stopping by, but I'm afraid it's bad news. I'm going to have to insist that you visit me at least twice a month, so I can keep an eye on you properly.'
You agree in a heartbeat; you can't say no to the doctor's orders, after all.