A Fruitful Doctor/Patient Relationship
A Fruitful Doctor/Patient Relationship
"Please remove your shirt," the doctor said. I removed my shirt, and she stood there looking at my chest and shoulders.
"Hmm," she muttered. "You're acne isn't clearing up. Have you been using the cream I prescribed you last time?"
"Well, I, um -- no. I mean, yes. I just started."
"Jeffrey," she said sternly, "I don't think we can have a fruitful Doctor/Patient relationship if you won't follow my instructions."
"But I was really busy."
"Don't bother with excuses. Now I need to deal with this problem. I'm going to leave the room, and when I come back you need to be undressed like you were for your physical exam last month. Drape this over your waist," she said, handing me a paper cloth from the cabinet.
"But, doctor, do I need another physical already?"
"I'll explain when I get back. Just do as I ask."
Slowly, I undressed. I felt pretty embarrassed about her catching me on not following her orders about the acne cream. My procrastination and laziness had gotten the best of me, and she'd called me on it. Naked under the cloth, I awaited her return.
"Okay, here's the deal," she said as she re-entered the room. "From now on, all of your sessions are going to be conducted like this. It's the best way I can think of to re-enforce to you that I am in charge here. You don't seem to have a proper level of respect for my profession."
I said nothing. She briefly examined me, ordered me yet again to use the acne cream, and then the exam was over.
Two weeks later, I went back to the office for a follow-up. I have to admit that in the meantime I'd still been negligent with the acne cream. The nurse, apparently, had been told by the doctor about the new "arrangement" she had determined for me. She immediately ordered me to undress.
The doctor came into the room, examined my upper back, and said, "Well, I see you still haven't learned. I think, Jeffrey, that you have a problem following orders from a female doctor."
"Well, no, I don't."
"I don't believe you. You guys don't know how easy you have it. Women have to submit to invasions of privacy for which you rarely experience any equivalent."
She reached down at the foot of the exam table and swung a pair of stirrups into view. "I want you to put your feet up into these. We're going to pretend, for a moment, that you're a woman getting a female exam. I'm going to examine your vagina."
"My what?" I asked, even as I complied with her orders and put my feet into the stirrups.
"Your vagina. Well, technically, your anus. But for our purposes today it's going to be your vagina."
"Okay," I said, nervously. she snapped on rubber gloves and lubed up her right index finger with KY.
"Please scoot down closer to the end of the table, ma'am," she said.
"Please don't call me that," I said.
"What? You're offended at being called a woman, are you? That shows how much you respect us, doesn't it?"
"No, Doctor, not at all."
"Save it," she said angrily, as she inserted a finger into my anus.
"Oh!" I hadn't had a rectal exam in quite a while and never before by a woman.
"Are you feeling submissive yet? Powerless? Out of control?," she asked, twisting the finger in my butt.
"Mmm... Nnnn..," I was in too much discomfort and embarrassment to answer.
"This is just the beginning," she said ominously. She reached into a drawer under the table and pulled out a large vibrator.
"Do you know what the word 'hysteria' means?" she asked.
"Back in the 19th century, doctors - male doctors - used to diagnose women with 'hysteria' and prescribe, to relieve the 'tension', clitoral massage and the use of vibrators. In fact the first vibrators were marketed to this purpose. Did you know that?"
I shook my head.
"I felt quite a bit of 'tension' in your 'vagina', ma'am. In fact, the stress is quite visible. I think it needs to be relieved now."
As she said this, my cock was throbbingly erect under the drop cloth. I could only see the bulge, but the position I was in, with my legs up in the stirrups meant that she could clearly see everything. Somehow this made it feel even more like she was in control and I wasn't.
"Wha-wha-what do you want me to do?" I asked.
"Ohh," now finally dropping the stern voice and addressing me like a child, "that's a good patient, asking for your orders," she said, gently patting me on the butt cheek. "But you can just relax and let me into your vagina."
"I r-r-really wish you wouldn't call it that."
"Oh, the bitch is back!," she scolded. "Okay, bitch, I'm not going to call it that anymore. I'm not going to stimulate your 'vagina'. I'm going to fuck your cunt. You have a tight, tight, sweeeeet little cunt, don't you, bitch?" She ran her lubed finger around the rim of my asshole.
"Oh, yes, you do," she slowly, deliberately inserted the vibrator.
"Ahh. Oh, god!" I grimaced.
"Now, bitch, I'm gonna turn it on." Inside my poor mocked and penetrated asshole I felt the vibration start. My cock was harder than ever, pre-cum dripping down its shaft.
"Just pretend it's a great big hard cock all the way up inside your hot little, tight little cunt. You like being fucked in your cunt, don't you, girl?" she asked, thrusting the thing in and out.
I couldn't help myself, I answered, "y-y-yeah."
"What did you say? I couldn't hear that!"
"Yes! YES!" I said, as the vibrator's tongue licked my prostate.
"Yes!? Yes what?"
"Yes, Doctor! Yes, Doctor."
"Good! That's a good little patient, and a good little bitch, too. If you liked being fucked in your cunt, ask for it from now on!"
I didn't say anything, I was just enjoying the sensation.
"Ask for it, goddamn you, or I'll turn this fucking thing off!"
I got what she meant now. I said, "Fuck me, Doctor, fuck me."
"Fuck my cunt! Fuck my cunt!"
And she did. She thrust the vibrator deeper and harder, in and out. I bucked my hips up and down, and the drop cloth finally fell off me onto the floor below. I could plainly see my red, fully engorged cock and even partly see her fucking my ass with the dildo.
"Fuck my cunt!!!" And with that, a splurge of jism shot out of the end of my cock up into the air and landed on my stomach.
"Good boy!" she said, patting my tummy. "That's my good boy, Jeffrey." And she wiped it off me with the drop cloth.
"Now get dressed, and next time I expect that you will have followed my orders."