I need a good girl to come visit, or invite me to make a house call.

She should present herself and, trusting me implicitly, allow me to examine her head to toe, inside and out, front to back.

She should be willing for me to take her temperature, from every possible location.

She should be a very good, patient girl as I use my stethoscope to listen to her heart and press it tenderly on all of the key auscultation points, listening for murmurs and skips and see just how sensitive her pulse is to different kinds of stimulation.

She should not be surprised when I remove her bra in order to palpate her lovely breasts and ensure they are in proper, good health.

She should be obedient as I direct her to remove her panties and raise her knees, and then open them to the sides so that I may examine her womanhood. The sense of violation may be strong as I palpate her tender inner labia and puffy outer lips. She’ll gasp as I retract her prepuce, the hood protecting her sensitive little clitoris, and check its sensitivity.

She will be responsive when I tell her to relax her muscles so I can insert the speculum. She likely won’t enjoy being impaled by the sterile, plastic shoehorn that will stretch and present the insides of her most delicate place. Certainly she’ll feel that I am intruding into her most private of places as I peer through the opening and see her cute, pink cervix. And I’ll tell her what a good girl she is as I poke it with the swab and the brush that will scrape the inside of her cervical opening, giving her cramps and tearing off tiny bits of tissue to ensure her health.

She will sigh in relief as I slowly remove the speculum, and probably as well when I gently insert my fingers to feel her uterus and ovaries between those intruding fingers and the ones pressing just above her pelvis. After I have held her womb, felt her womanhood in my very hands, and run them along the walls of her birth canal to make sure nothing calls out to my medical attention, I will remove them and she will, again, breathe a sigh of relief, from the end of it all.

Only after I tell her that I am almost done will she realize that she still has one mystery left for me to expose. She will look at me, eyes begging for mercy from my anatomical intrusions, but the inevitable will come to pass as my finger presses ever so gently, but implacably, against the opening of her back passage. She’ll wince as it moves inward and twists around, feeling and palpating those tender tissues in her tush. And when one finger slips back into her womanly way and attempts to join its partner, dancing with it as it slides all over the thin membrane between her two passages, one for the good girls and the other for the bad, she will scrunch her eyes closed and wish for an end to it all. And, after another minute of reaching and palpating, that feels like 10 to her, it will end.

And through it all I will praise and encourage her. I will tell her she is being so brave and is my very bestest, very good girl.

And, most of all, she will allow me to take pictures and illustrate all of it, so that I may once again provide some imagery and context for my posts - not that they need them - without the constant and irascible meddling of the Tumblr puritans.

Interested parties may apply in my DMs…