Dr. Ellis pushes his finger forward, at the same time he does I start hearing the tic tic tic of the timer Dr. Miller starts. This isn't like the exam from earlier. His finger isn't investigating me, looking for clinical symptoms or abnormalities so that he can mark on a chart about my health. He may have had this same finger inside of me before, touching me thoroughly, but it's as if he is feeling my pussy for the first time again, his finger driven with a new purpose.

He moves it around, pressing into the sides of my inner walls then pulling his finger back out while maintaining the pressure, dragging it along the inside until his finger is about to leave, but before he does he pushes back in and starts again from a different spot. Dr. Ellis repeats it over and over in a circle, making sure that no surface inside of me is ignored, his finger slowly pumping in and out in the process.

I'm doing my best to ignore it, I'm not sure how to. My eyes have already explored everything they can in the room. The only things to focus on now are the touch of the doctors finger and the invasion of the gag in my mouth. Still I will resist. I have to, their goal is to turn me on, to make my pussy wet, to try to make me cum. I'm not their toy or their lab rat. If I can resist these tests I'll hold onto some of my dignity, at least I hope so.

My eyes widen when Dr. Ellis speaks, "She appears to be ready for two now.".

That's all he's been doing? Trying to stretch me out? Making room for more of him to invade me? I grunt into the gag, noise barely escaping me as I shake my head in disapproval. Mark's looks at me for a moment before turning back to the show. He's watching the performance, anticipation in his eyes as he watches Dr. Ellis finger me.

The sensation of emptiness was brief as Dr. Ellis pulled his finger out, before he returned with two fingers this time, spreading me wider, deeper. The stretch was sharper now, more invasive, and a small whimper left my throat His movements were methodical, the slow, steady rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out of me. The sound was wet with the heavy amount of lubricant he applied, shameless, echoing in the silence of the room like a lewd confession. I clenched around him instinctively, my body fighting the intrusion even as pleasure began to coil low in my belly.

"Increased resistance,” Dr. Ellis murmured, his voice clinical yet tinged with a hint of fascination. His gloved fingers moved deliberately inside me, probing deeper as he observed my body’s reactions like a scientist dissecting a specimen. “There is tightness of the vaginal walls, even with two digits inserted. The muscle contraction is pronounced, almost reflexive—a clear indication of heightened sensitivity combined with anxiety.” He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Mark, who stood nearby, watching intently. “This level of resistance is unusual. It suggests her body is fighting the stimulation. Fascinating.”

He began to move faster, his fingers pistoning in and out of me with a steady, relentless rhythm. The wet, slick sounds filled the room, punctuated by my shallow, desperate breaths. My hips twitched against the restraints, instinctively trying to meet his thrusts, but the straps held me immobile, forcing me to endure the overwhelming sensations without relief.

“Look here,” he said to Dr. Miller, “The labia are becoming flushed—a clear sign of engorgement—yet the vaginal canal attempts to remains constricted. The contrast is remarkable. Her body is responding to the stimulation but is simultaneously resisting it. Observe how the clitoris is becoming more prominent, though it’s still partially concealed by the hood.”

As he spoke, his movements became even more forceful, his fingers driving into me with a precision that bordered on cruel. I gasped into the gag, my back arching as much as the restraints would allow, and a low moan escaped my lips before I could stifle it.

“Ah, there we go,” Dr. Ellis said, his tone almost triumphant. “The vocalization suggests increased arousal. Her body is beginning to yield to the stimulation, though the resistance persists inside. We’re seeing a physiological paradox—arousal coupled with tension. It’s as if her body is at war with itself.”

I wanted to protest, to beg him to stop, but the gag was firm in my mouth, completing my helplessness. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My pussy clenched around his fingers, an uncontrollable reaction that only seemed to spur him on. His clinical observations were degrading, humiliating, and yet they heightened my awareness of every touch, every movement.

“It’s likely she’ll reach orgasm shortly,” Dr. Ellis added, his voice calm and measured as if he were discussing the weather rather than my most vulnerable moments.

With that, he quickened his pace even further, his fingers plunging into me with a relentless intensity that left me straining for air through my nostrils. I was utterly at his mercy—bound, exposed, and unable to escape the dual agony and ecstasy of his touch.

A soft, traitorous moan escaped my throat, and I bit down hard into the deep gag to try to stiffle it. But it was no use. The pleasure was building, clawing its way up my spine, igniting every nerve in my body. My whimpers grew louder, turning into moans I attempted to stiffle that filled the room. I could feel myself unraveling, my body betraying me with every thrust of his fingers. The wet slapping sound of his hand against my flesh was obscene, a constant reminder of how utterly exposed I was, how completely at his mercy.

The climax hit me like a freight train, tearing through me with a force that left me heaving for air. My back arched against the straps, my hips twitching as my pussy convulsed around his fingers. The sensations were overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and humiliation that left me trembling in its wake. My channel clenched, trying to milk every last drop of sensation from his relentless thrusts.

Dr. Ellis continued his movements, unrelenting, as if he hadn’t noticed—or didn’t care—that I had reached my peak. His fingers worked me mercilessly, prolonging the orgasm. Finally, he slowed his pace, withdrawing his fingers with a slick, wet sound that made me cringe. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, my legs trembling in the stirrups.

"Orgasm achieved at four minutes, thirty-two seconds,” Dr. Miller announced, his voice calm and clinical, documenting the chart, recounting my most intimate humiliation. I lay there, breathless and trembling, my body still throbbing with the aftershocks of pleasure that now felt like betrayal.

“Dr. Miller,” Dr. Ellis called him over, gesturing for the younger doctor to approach, “come observe the physical changes post-orgasm. Mr. Thompson, you may join us as well.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. My face burned with shame as Mark and Dr. Miller joined Dr. Ellis on either side of him, their gaze fixed intently on my exposed body.

Dr. Ellis leaned forward, his gloved hands parting the lips of my pussy with deliberate care. I flinched at the contact, my sensitive flesh still tingling from the intensity of the orgasm. “Notice the swelling of the labia,” he said, his voice cool and instructional. “The engorgement is noticeable, and the area is flushed—a clear indication of increased blood flow during arousal. The vaginal opening is now more relaxed compared to its initial state. Oddly, the lack of any blue tint on the lingering lubrication I applied indicates no change to her vaginal secretions, confirming Mr. Thompson's concerns.”

He glanced at Dr. Miller, who held the camera poised to document every detail. “Take several shots for reference. Focus on the changes in coloration of her labia, the degree of swelling, and the change to the resting diameter of her vaginal opening.”

The camera’s flash went off again and again, each blinding burst of light making me cringe. How many people would see these photos? I wondered, my stomach churning with dread.

“Now, let’s examine the internal changes,” Dr. Ellis continued, his fingers sliding inside me once more. The intrusion was slow and methodical, but it felt utterly invasive after what I’d just endured. “The vaginal walls are less constricted now, though they still exhibit some residual tightness." He withdrew his fingers with a soft, wet sound that made my cheeks burn. “Mr. Thompson,” he said, turning to Mark, “you may feel the difference as well. It’s a useful comparison for understanding her physiological response.”

Mark didn’t hesitate, not realizing Dr. Ellis was gesturing for him to retrieve a glove from the counter behind them. His large hand replaced Dr. Ellis' as he slid two fingers inside me. His touch was familiar yet utterly humiliating in this context. I could feel his fingers moving slowly, exploring the changes that my body had undergone.

“Mr. Thompson, please make sure you wear a glove next time, this is a sterile enviornment. Dr. Miller,” Dr. Ellis said, turning to his partner in crime, “I encourage you to examine her as well. Direct observation is invaluable for understanding these responses.” The younger doctor nodded and moved closer, his fingers replacing Mark’s. His touch was clinical but gentle, almost exploratory as he probed my sensitive flesh.

Their touches were slow and deliberate now—a stark contrast to the relentless pace of the test—but they felt like a different kind of torment. The teasing motions of their fingers only heightened my awareness of how exposed and vulnerable I was. My body twitched under their hands, betraying me with small, involuntary responses that made my shame burn even hotter.

Dr. Miller withdrew his hand and stepped aside as Dr. Ellis held up the measuring tool, placing it just above my hole, making adjustments to the small notches protruding from it to make his measurement.

"Patient's resting diameter has increased from 3.7 centimeters to 5.3." Dr. Ellis puts the tool back down as Dr. Miller walks back to chart the change.

My stomach twisted at his words, my humiliation deepening with every passing second. The way they talked about me—like I was some kind of experiment—was unbearable.

Dr. Ellis walks back to the counter along side Dr. Miller, taking a moment to change his gloves. Mark moves forward, taking Dr. Ellis' spot between my legs.

"You're doing great my love." He says, like he is simply encouraging me in a competition. But I recognize the words, the look on his face. He has said the same thing before when I'm being submissive for him at home. He's leaning forward, looking down at me, the fabric of shirt being a barrier between his chest and my bare ass as they make contact, his head is between my feet as they remain locked in the metal and raised in the air above my hips. He looks down at me. I don't buy his concern, he could have come over to the side of the table to talk to me. He's pressing against me to let me know this is exactly where he wants me to be right now, here, naked, bound with my knees pressed back, gagged, helpless to the assaults of the doctor and the photographing of my humiliation. He is letting me know he is enjoying this.

Mark has taken advantage of this opportunistic doctor. Now I'm left wondering, when will this end? As he stands there, asserting himself against me, I can't help but feel a longing sensation in my breasts. Each peak stands on my chest, still moving from exaggerated breathing in my heightened state. At this point it feels like it was an eternity ago when the doctor started this appointment with the breast exam, but my nipples were still stiff, ignored for so long now but craving attention after all the attention my pussy has received.

They won't receive any relief, the doctor has finished his exam with them earlier, now his only focus is on testing my pussy, intent on finding a way to make me create my own wetness inside. Mark moves out of the way as Dr. Ellis replaces him. He is holding up an object I can't quite make out against the brightness of the room. I hear Dr. Miller winding the timer back, indicating the second test is about to start.