Section 6

Dr. Brian's confident hands at the sides of my throat are like a tonic. Luckily, he doesn't leave them there long enough to get a pulse because he'd find it unnaturally fast. My attempts at calming the hell down were beginning to work -- until he started touching me. His hand on my shoulder during the eye exam is somehow an even more intimate contact, and reassuring as well. But that feeling of safety, is taken from me when he snaps at me to keep my mouth open. I'm bewildered and then terrified when he goes for the Jennings gag.

I didn't even recognize it on the tray at first. And now it's humiliating. The cold, steel forcing me open -- I hate it. I'm a woman, not a horse or a child, and I'm perfectly capable of keeping my mouth open for a quick oral exam. However, that's not what he wants. I can see in his eyes that he means to impart a lesson, or perhaps just remind me that he controls me, now and for the entire time we stay together. For the first time in his presence, I feel fear.

The scrap of food and his reminder to floss are devastating, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. I blink to keep them back, trying desperately to keep my chin up to the saliva that's gathering in my mouth won't spill out and further humiliate me. But then the ordeal is over and I'm working the sensation back into my jaw like did right after that time I had Gavin's cock in my mouth for what felt like an hour.

And then comes the order to strip. A jolt of energy goes through me at the calm instruction. My nipples perk up, as if they've suddenly become interested in the conversation. I look around for a screen and realize, to my vast unease, that the office holds nothing of the kind. His follow-up order snaps me out of my daze and automatically, like a soldier, my fingers go to the buttons on my blouse. An attractive and powerful man is giving me orders. Am I really going to refuse?

The spell has indeed been fully cast. So I take it slowly, wanting to be attractive and pleasing to him. I don't want to be found lacking any more than I already have been. But he's got a preternaturally keen eye, and a voice that's steady, yet filled with a terrifying weight.

"DidI not specify a smart and professional appearance?" he murmurs, low, as I'm standing small before him.

"Yes, Doctor, you did."

"Then what is that?"

He points with his pen and I see with real concern that one bra strap is oddly twisted around and down off my shoulder. My breath catches in my throat. My heart stutters.

"I'm sorry, Doctor."

But he ignores the apology and just directs me back to the exam table, a hand drifting towards the stethoscope that's been lying, until now, draped around the back of his neck like a cherished pet.

I swallow hard.

Section 8

Although Lia moves across to the couch, I change my mind about the next part of the examination. What she has failed to do is straighten her bra strap, so she is stand Ing there with it still hanging off her shoulder. This is not acceptable. I take my stethoscope and place it on my instrument tray.

"There have been a number of breaches of the discipline code already this morning," I state.

"Forgetting your manners and not calling me Doctor; the skewed skirt; not waiting to be told that you could close your mouth; and finally, even after being told, leaving your bra strap twisted." I refrain from mentioning her minor mumblings and general insubordination. Oh, and not forgetting to clean her teeth properly.

"I have already mentioned your strap and yet it is still not correct". As soon as I reach the key words her hand whips up and pulls it over her shoulder, but it is too late. "You must learn that discipline is not optional in this department,” I continue.

"Now face the couch and then bend over - grasp the other side with your hands" I tell her. She hesitates, but knows that this would be the worst possible thing to do. I think that she knows what is coming.

I carefully lift up her skirt and pull it above her buttocks. I am pleased to see matching panties that cover her rather attractive bottom.

"Part your legs". Lia moves a little.

"Further". She moves her legs apart more.

I stand just to one side, raise my hand, and bring the palm of it down fairly gently on her knicker-clad buttocks. Lia may have been expecting it but it is still a surprise and so she jumps a little.

"Get back into position" I order. " I am going to spank you again, once for each of your transgressions. If you must be treated as a child, then so be it."

With that I deliver 5 more strokes with slightly increasing intensity, spreading the blows around both her buttock cheeks. Lia stands there stoically taking her punishment. I suspect that she realises that protest would lead to something worse, and at the endI order her to stand up and face me. Her hand goes to rub her buttocks butI tell to keep her hands by her sides. It wan't a heavy spanking, and she needs to feel the tingling to remind her of what has happened and why.

"Now, sit up on the couch" I order. She springs up, even remembering to smooth her skirt down. I get my stethoscope and the sphygmomanometer, and wrap the cuff round her left arm. I feel for her pulse and pump the cuff up, while placing the earpieces in my ears. It doesn't take long to find that her BP is a little on the high side which is not particularly surprising. For good measure I take it on the other arm as well, with consistent results.

I remove the cuff and place the instrument back on the tray, but keep the stethoscope. I move over to Lia and replace the earpieces and place the diaphragm on Lia's chest well above her left breast. I can hear her heart beating at a fair rate, no doubt more to do with the situation than any physical reason. I move the diaphragm over the top half of her chest - all the standard positions and some less orthodox. I need to auscultate the top of her breast just where the breast starts to list away from the chest. Not clinically helpful, but fun. I see that her nipples are starting to harden, showing themselves straining against her bra material.

I move my stethoscope to the lower chest. It is necessary to listen immediately under her breast so I cup her right breast in my free hand and lift it up so that the chest piece can be placed correctly. As I listen I gently massage her breast with my free hand. The bra material feels gloriously satiny and smooth under my fingers. I continue to listen to heart and lungs - both showing signs of excitement - move her breasts and bra around as I need until finally I have to stop. I go back to my desk and make some spurious jottings in her file. In my return to the couch, I move to the other side and listen to her back and note that indeed her bra is a 32B. I am sure this is too small, especially as her breasts seem to be very close to falling out of the cups and I note that there are red marks on her shoulders from the straps.

“I can't fully hear your heart and lungs with your bra on - remove it please" I order. Lia, now used to the idea that there is no privacy, slips it off. I repeat the stethoscope examination fully and completely this time being able to cup her breasts directly when they need moving out of the way. Her nipples continue to stand erect. It takes some time to cover all areas of Lia's chest and back fully but she is very patient - so much so that I wonder if she might be enjoying the attention.

Finally my examination is complete - for the time being.

"Remove your skirt". Realising that it has to be done she does so, revealing the delightful panties more fully.

I address her: "Keep your hands by your sides" - hardly necessary but a gentle reminder - "as you will have realised by now medicine can be physically demand Ing so the next part of the examination is to test your strength and stamina. Go and stand by that wall, face me and put your hands out to the side, palms up." Lia looks surprised but knows better than to argue. She stands, back to the wall, arms parallel to the floor, palms up. I reach over to my bookshelf and pick out my favourite volumes. Favourites for this test, that is. They are Physical Medicine volumes 1 and 2, substantial tomes, both. I placed a book in each upward-facing palm. "You’ll stay in this position with your arms parallel to the floor, at right angles to your body for at least 5 minutes".

I do rather like the look of patients standIng there exposed and struggling to keep their arms up. Just to make sure the test is completed properlyI set a timer and put it on my desk. Lia of course can't see it or the fact that it says 8 minutes not 5. But what are 3 minutes between friends?

Lia stands there looking very confident - but for how long? WillI have to use my little friend to keep her in line?

Section 9

Punished? Me? As if the gag wasn't bad enoughI now have to stand here and -- but I can't make myself finish the thought. I love being spanked. I want this.

As I lean across the exam table, with my cheek against the sterile paper, time stretches out. I'm exposed with my legs spread and my panties on display to a superior whose taste for kink seems as though it rivals my own. Reality colliding with my fantasies this way is a heady mix of exciting and terrifying.

I wait for his hand, but still twitch out of position when the blow comes and he doesn't like that, oh no. So I force myself into stillness and don't moan, or even sway my hips back and forth at the delicious cracks of his palm. I'm hard-pressed, though. Literally.

When he steps back, my skin feels like it's glowing. He's covered every square inch of my butt in just a few strokes. However, putting a hand back to more fully savor the feeling is apparently not the thing, because he orders me back to attention, although I do get a nice little bonus when he directs my newly sensitized posterior back up onto the exam table. Ouch.

After a bilateral BP-check, he moves in to auscultate my chest. His stethoscope is chilly, but I keep nice and still for him, even when he moves it to a clinically dubious place on the upper slope of one breast. Oh, but then, oh then, he's got my entire breast in his big, warm hand and he's rubbing it. My lips part all by themselves and a little breath goes in as a little prayer runs silently through my mind: yes, oh, please, yes. When the tips of his fingers brush across one nipple, my whole left side feels a rush, like someone opened a bottle of spring water and exposed my body to the effervescent bubbles. A bolt of feeling goes straight down to my clit, too, and I want to moan into the silence of the office, but clamp down on it.

Having him then do the auscultation again (unnecessary, but I'm past caring) with my bra off is sheer delight. My eyes slip closed. I can't help it. The delectable contrast between the steth's chill and the heat of his hand makes my senses reel, and my lower lip find its way between my teeth. My nipples are now straining forward as if they could somehow get more attention from his amazing hands just by being all pink and perky. But it's clear that Dr. Brian is going to decide what's to be done around here. My nipples can look as cute as they like. He'll do things his way and according to his schedule.

Not long afterwards I'm down to just my panties, shoes, and stockings, up against the wall with a reference book in each outstretched hand. Five minutes doesn't sound like much, but I know from the get-go that it's a difficult test, made worse by the threat of some unpleasant consequence if I don't pass. As he calmly put the books in each of my hands, he mentioned the possibility of using a little friend to keep me in line. This, coupled with my natural drive to submit to him makes me eager to put on a good show.

So I assume a confident air. I count the seconds.

At around ninety my arms start burning and at one-thirty they're subject to little tremors. But the call to relax doesn't come. He stays at his desk filling out forms, occasionally glancing at the timer (facing away from me, dammit) or at my arms to see how things are progressing. His expression is mildly interested, but for the most part mellow, although it gets a little more direct as the seconds tick on.

I'm in agony. ButI don't dare protest or even make a sound. Pushing my arms back against the wall helps a little, in fact the more of my arm I use, the greater the friction. But I can't hold out forever.

Please, I beg silently.

Section 10

Lia is fit, of that there is no doubt. what I have seen of her body provides ample evidence of that. As she makes a cross shape, carrying those weighty books I can see that she's making valiant attempts to keep her arms at right angles. But she's doomed to fail, if only because I control the time. After 3 minutes real time - it probably felt like hours - her arms began to sag. I could see the effort etched in her face to bring them back up but it isn't working. Time for some help.

I reach under my desk and find my cane. Yes, the same type used in British public schools to enforce the rules and bring recalcitrant pupils into line. I find it helps with patients too. I pick it up and walk over to Lia. I tap the underside of or left hand. "Keep it up"; I repeat the other side. Just a gentle tap, but with the promise of more to come. There is that look on her eyes suggests that despite the pain this is not unwelcome. Time goes on - I've lost track of the time on the timer and to be honest it wasn't really that important anyway. As it becomes increasingly difficult for her to keep her hands up, the taps become more frequent and sharper. Finally I call a halt to it.

I don't comment on her performance but, very kindly, give her a couple of minutes' respite while I note her reaction in her file. Her nipples still look erect even after this test. It's difficult to wait for the breast exam, but good things come to those who wait.

"NowI need to test your stamina and your vitals after exercise" I state. "You will run vigorously on the spot for 5 minutes. When you run, your thigh will form a right angle to the floor at the top of each stride. And you will run fast enough to make it difficult for you to hold a conversation. Start now".

The first few on-the-spot strides are inevitably not up to standard. But that's OK, after all she hasn't really done any warming up exercises or stretches. But a tap on the behind from my friend the cane reminded her: "Knees up and faster" I instruct. After a while her running style slips into something more like what is required.

I decided to check if she can hold a conversation. "Tell me what your favourite position for intercourse is and why." I demand. She answers eas Ily if hesitantly, so time to up the pace. Another, more signif Icant tap on her knicker clad buttocks. I love the way the material stretches as she runs; getting her to bring her knees up really helps outline her buttocks.

I use a number of my standard questions to check how out of breath she is. How does she feel at orgasm? How does she use a vibrator? Has she had anal sex? All the time keeping the pace (and her knees!) up with taps from the cane.

Finally, even athletic Lia runs out of breath and it's time to stop. "Onto the couch" I tell her and repeat the BP checks and spend time listening for to her heart and lungs. This time I am unashamedly caressing her breasts and making sure that the stethoscope's diaphragm gets placed on her breasts where the chances of hearing anything clinically signif Icant is next to nil. I just love it how her nipples stay erect.

I, of course, have to keep listening until she returns to her normal heart & respiration rate.

"Stand up and bend over, touching your toes" I instruct. Strength, stamina and now flexibility.

Oh that bottom is beautiful. She can easily reach her toes, and I spend the time running my hand up and down her spine checking for any vertebrae out of alignment. It is necessary for me to pull down her panties a little to get the base of her spine. I swear she shivers a little.

I also enjoyed the view of her breasts unfettered by the lacy bra just hanging in the air - a very beautiful shape. I pull her knickers back up, and pat her bottom. "Stand up - and arms out". No not another strength test but time to check important things like her bra size. I take the tape measure out of my pocket and place it round her chest. It takes some time to make sure it's properly positioned underneath her breasts but finallyI write down the value. Now across the top of those still erect nipples looking good against dusky pink areolae. Just a few more measurements to take. The circumference of each breast at the base, and the distance from the base of each breast to the base of the nipple. Then " I need you to make your nipples as erect as you can" I instruct. This is probably the most redundant instruction I have ever issued. But Lia, now eager to please, takes each nipple in turn and massages it until finally telling me "she can't do any more". I note the lack of politeness in her reply but am keen to measure her nipples so ignore it for the moment.

"Stand up straight, legs apart, arms by your side" she's told. I take my tape measure and measure the circumference of her behind and then measure her inside leg measurement - from the floor right up into her groin. She squirms and I felt it necessary to issue a reminder to stand still.

My measurements indicate that her bra size is not 32B. More like a 32C.

"Physicians have a duty to be truthful and I believe you have told me a lie" I say. "Would you like to tell me your bra size again?". She hmms and fidgets a bit, clearly not knowing what answer was expected. Perhaps she really does believe that she's a 32B. If so she ought to go for a professional bra fitting. Eventually she tells me 32C, although clearly unconvinced, but its time for another lesson. "Bend over the couch - as before. You have been forgetting your manners, lying to me and you need to be reminded of how to behave.".

As the cane comes down, Lia is thankful that she is wearing full panties rather than a thong or G-string. Although the material is thin, it offers some protection from the inevitable 'thwack' as the thin wood meets curvaceous buttock. Every stroke causes her to tingle with what I am sure is a mixture of pain and pleasure.

I consider what part of the examination needs to be done next.

Section 11

"Tell me what your favorite position is for intercourse and why?"

As he poses the questions, true replies flicker in my mind an instant beforeI huff out other words between my panting breaths.

Anywhere you want me. Across that big desk of yours, for starters. Or in that nice, padded desk chair with me astride, my legs over the armrests, just in stockings by that time, and you fully dressed, tie and all. I'm hanging onto the lapels of your lovely white coat as you slowly move inside me, hands on my hips, controlling my movements as you scrutinize me, alert for any reaction.

But what I say is, "Missionary. Ankles up. He can . . . go deep that way."

"How do you feel at orgasm?"

Like I completely belong to you. Like it's a reward for being your good little girl. " It . . . varies. Depends on the . . . intensity. Moods. Timing."

"Describe how you use a vibrator."

I have a waterproof friend that came across the ocean with me. I've already scoped out the bathtub at my lodgings, and it's old claw-foot one with brass taps. I can't wait to get into it, rest my calves along the sides, and just go to town, muffling my cries with a washcloth to avoid scaring my sweet old landlady.

The taps of his cane bring me back to the moment.

"Externally . . ." I gasp. "Vulva, and nipples, sometimes."

"Have you had anal sex?"

You think with this raging case of kink I've never been on all fours, begging for it? "Yes, Doctor."

Back on the exam table, with chest and cheeks flushed, It's tough for my stuttering heart to get back into any kind of normal rhythm, with his steth and his amazing hands examining and teas Ing me. The best is seeing my breasts in his hands. His fingernails are well-kept and there are fine hairs along the backs of his hands. I wonder how much body hair he has and if I’ll ever be allowed to see. I also worry that by this time my panties might be soaked through and leaving a stain on the white paper atop the exam table.

The next part of the exam, a toe touch, leaves me even more open for him. I wish he would take off my panties. I wish he would press himself up against me while I'm bent over like this, soI could at least feel if he's erect or not. The thought of being allowed to feel that makes me shiver.

Next is a series of deft measurements of my body. He could be fitting me for a bra or a dress by the ease and care with which he does this. I wonder about it. What if he dictates what I'm wearing underneath my clothes while I'm working here? What if I end up doing my rounds in a full merry widow, with lace panels up the sides, breasts pushed up and held at the ready for whenever he decides to call me into his office and -- God, I don't dare think of that any more or my knees will give out and I'll just be this warm puddle of girl on his linoleum floor.

"Physicians have a duty to be truthful and I believe you have told me a lie. Would you like to tell me your bra size again?"

My voice quavers and I give him the answer he seems to want. I've always been between sizes and so it's hard to know which bra will fit. I try to be honest. I really try.

But he intends to prove a point, so there's nothing for it but to bend over and feel the bright lines of pain brought up by his half-dozen strokes at half-strength. He's going easy, I can tell, but it still hurts like a mofo and I jerk out of position on the last one, finally breaking my silence to mewl out my pain and desire in a wordless, abandoned cry.

Doctor, you've got me so hot. Please touch me, please.

Section 12

After learning her lesson - I hope - Lia takes a couple of minutes to recover. I order her back onto the couch. I examine her abdomen, feeling for the internal organs, palpating deeply. I ask her to tell me if anything I do hurts, but I think that is the feeling that is the last one on her mind. After the necessary palpation and some unnecessary massage, including just below the level of her panties, at the top of her pubis, it's time for another of my favourites: the neurological and sensitivity examination. "Take off your panties and stockings, and get back on the couch. Put your arms above your head, resting on the couch, parallel to the side". I slip out the restraints quickly before she has time to object, and quickly slip the leather loop round her left wrist attaching it to the silver rings on the side of the couch. I repeat on the other side. I order her to move her legs out, and attach the ankle straps so she's spread-eagled.

She now can't move and looks quite beautiful, lying there completely naked, and I get my first full view of her genital area. I am glad she has not shaved.

One final thing:I put the blindfold on her, slipping it over her head and eyes. She is now mine and has no control over what happens. I like it.

"I am going to do various things which you will feel. You must tell me what you feel". I pick up the Wartenberg wheel and run it over her stomach. She wriggles with surprise and answers. The wheel runs, with varying degrees of pressure over her stomach and her outer thighs down her legs. She moves as far as the restraints will allow, which is not very much. I run it up her inner thighs, right up to the top of her leg, t first lightly, then applying more pressure and both sides. I hear a slight whimper, but ignore it and move up to her breasts where the wheel moves around left and right breast, over her nipples and into her armpit; after all one must test all the breast tissue. All the time she is telling me what she feels, and where. The words come out in gasps rather then sentences. I think I have done enough to demonstrate that there are no neurological problems, but the restraints and blindfold remain.

I pick up the nipple clamps from my instrument tray. I grasp one nipple firmly, making sure that it is erect, open the clamp and place it over the nipple making sure as it closes that it grasps the nipple firmly. I repeat with the other nipple. Lia is very surprised as she obviously could not see what was coming. And of course she was in no position to complain.

"You must tell me when the pain becomes unbearable" I tell her, as I settle down at my desk and watch as she comes to terms with the pain that's radiating from both breasts. She is bearing up well, so a few minutes later I get up and go over and massage her breasts and tweak the clamps a little to make sure that the nipples remain erect. Seven minutes - not bad but not the record.

After a superb 12 minutes of unrelenting pain, finally Lia spits out "take them off". I go over to the couch. " I am sorry, did you say something?" I am not about to let her get away with that rudeness.

"Please take them off" she says again, her face beginning to contort from the pain.

"Please take them off - what?" I say.

"Please take the clamps off, Doctor". She finally remembers what the correct protocol is. I rest my free hand just below her breast as I release one of the clamps. Her nipple is quite red and marked where the clamp has been and I massage it gently to help restore normal circulation and feeling beforeI release the other clamp and make sure that nipple is restored to normal.

I start, completely unannounced, my breast exam. This is almost totally a TUBE; there is no indication in Lia's medical history of breast disease, and her age suggests that it's unlikely, She has not complained of any breast problems. But it has to be done.

I lay my hand out flat and using the pads of my fingers move around her breast in a circular motion. I start at the base of her breast and move inwards to the nipple. Slowly, and going back if I think I feel something that needs a close feel. That happens a lot. Her nipples come in for detailed attention; after all they've recently been abused quite hard. But they seem to have recovered well as I gently roll them between my fingers. There's no discharge either, which is of course what I am looking for.

My hand reaches right up into her armpit, feeling for the lymph nodes. I rest the palm of my hand on her chest as I push higher into the axilla making sureI feel everything completely. Repeat on the other side.

I see that her respiratory rate has increased - her chest rising and falling much more frequently than before. I slip my stethoscope on and listen again to her chest and lungs, making sure that the stethoscope's diaphragm moves exactly where I want it. Lia, of course, still blindfolded and restrained can only lie there thinking, I presume, of England, while I move her breasts around as I listen in unorthodox places on her chest.

"I am going to release your ankles, and reposition you for the next part of the examination" I tell Lia. "Your arms will remain restrained and you will remain blindfolded. I find it makes the examination much easier."

I make a point of allowing the stirrups to make loud clanging noises as I position them so that Lia's heels may be put in them. I undo one of the restraints and place her foot in the stirrup. A little manoeuvring and it's a comfortable fit. Just to be on the safe side, I reattach the restraint on her ankle. Her other leg goes smoothly into the other stirrup.

My couch adjusts in the middle, and I release the lock that allows the bottom part of it to fall away. I move the stirrups out to the side until they are almost at 180 degrees.

Lia is now perfectly positioned, legs in stirrups, buttocks hanging just over the edge of the couch and totally exposed. This is good.

Section 13

Naked. Spread. Immobilized. That's how he's got me and it's not even surprising anymore, given how his neutral, confident voice has assured my surrender. He has a Wartenberg wheel and I thrill to the feel of it tracing my curves. His order to express what I'm feeling is upping the intensity of this little experiment, too.

"You have a neurological wheel and it gives me," I gasp, "little prickles as you run it across my abdomen and my," another indrawn breath, "femoral muscles, calf muscles." I squirm in the restraints, Being told to vocalize like this is undeniably hot. I can't escape the situation for an instant. "Unhh, more sensitive on the inner thighs, above the . . . gracilis . . . much more sensitive the higher you --" and I break off, releasing an embarrassing squeak and hearing a little huff of breath from him which might be surprise, or amusement. I can't tell with this blindfold.

"Continue," he says smoothly.

I swallow and pick up my narrative as the wheel begins to turn once more. " I'm more sensitive -- ooh," I wriggle a bit and then settle down, "the higher you go. It's somewhat more intense now that you're tracing more lines and pressing harder. Ow owowowOW, yes I feel that." I arch up from the table, trying vainly to get away, but that just puts more pressure on my butt, still striped and sore from the caning. "And, ohh, on my breasts and -- hsss, ahhh --- nipples. Nohhgod. Hhomi- unnh. Vertical . . . . lines. Pressing . . . really hard now and. Ahh. Hhahh. Hnnn -"

My whine dies when he takes the wicked little instrument away, only to be resurrected when he clamps both nipples with something very firm and very pinchy. Taking my sight away probably heightens the sensation and he probably planned that, the cad. He's wonderful.

Except then he's not because he leaves me like that. I can hear his chair roll out from behind his desk and slide of fabric as he seats himself.

"You must tell me when the pain becomes unbearable."

When it becomes unbearable? It's unbearable now. He's been stimulating my nipples for a while now and testing them with that wicked neurological device so at this point it feels like they're on fire. But when the surprise fades and I begin to breathe and countI realize it is bearable -- just intense sensation after all, and not completely antithetical to what's going on between my legs. But it gets far worse when returns, his warm hands massaging, increas Ing the blood flow and thus also the pain. I nearly let out a wail when he adjusts the clamps but it emerges instead as a broken moan. There's no telling how far sound carries in here or who might be just outside.

By the time the pain really is unbearable, when I'm about to shed tears behind my blindfold and can practically feel my throbbing nipples in my fingers and toes, I call for release. But he doesn't oblige me until I've learned another lesson in manners, in calling him doctor and saying please. You think I'd've learned that by now.

My sigh of relief sticks in my throat when, immediately afterwards, he starts palpating my aching breasts in the familiar exam pattern. Oh of course he'd do it now that I've been suitably prepped. And of course I'm so sensitive that every touch of his hands make my PC and iliococcygeus muscles jump with repressed desire. Again, I try the restraints. Naturally, they're as secure as when he put them on what seems like a half hour ago.

His stethoscope has cooled off again and now my skin is hotter than before, so the contact is sweet, like a kiss. I try to arch up into it, but he presses down firmly on my torso, holding me in place. I must sound like a marathon runner to him now. My heart's in third gear and my RPMs are higher than they should be, so it seems likely to shift to fourth at any time.

It's his rearrangement of the exam table that causes the gear to shift. Before, there was something solid under my legs but now my hips are right at the edge, legs wide. I feel so exposed that I give up an involuntary, soft little "oh" and turn my head away. It's the only way to escape, even a little.