Having finished documenting my sparse bush, Dr Forrest had
just put the camera away when the door opened and Dr Weston walked into the
exam room, followed by a young man, and three young women, all of them dressed
in white lab coats, with stethoscopes hanging round their necks. Brian Weston’s
a good looking guy, and I always liked having him examine me, he’s very
thorough, and says sorry when he’s going to cause me pain. The other four
people were strangers though, but he introduced them all to Dr Forrest, clarifying
they were all first year students, which I’ve had sit in on a few of my visits
before, even though these looked young enough to be still at high school, and one
of the girls could be attending junior high. He explained it would be really
useful for them to experience a full development research study assessment, and
I would be a wonderful subject since this was a very important stage, the first
milestone exam following a young girl’s 21st check-up, and with several
unusual events for me between them. Brian Weston had a captivating voice, and
he always addressed me as if I were a young girl, or a small child, as if I
were still only 10 years old, though in all honesty, it made me tingle all
over. Dr Forrest was good at getting me in a submissive frame of mind, agreeable
to all her instructions, but Dr Weston seemed expert at shaping my actual
feelings into a 10 year old, not just my outward responses.
I climbed into the Ob/Gyn chair, and a nurse fastened the Velcro
straps round my wrists and ankles to prevent any accidents, but being
restrained had my heart racing, knowing I would be helpless to resist whatever
they wanted to do to me. Dr Forrest took various instruments from cabinets
round the walls, placing them on a steel trolley table, all neatly displayed
for me to see. Some of the shiny stainless steel tools I’d seen before, during
previous exams, some of them I had seen while surfing the web, and a few I didn’t
recognise at all. In amongst them were several scalpels of various sizes, some
long, large diameter needles, and scrapers that the doctor sometimes used to
free my clitoral hood from the shaft so it could be cleaned. Dr Forrest knew I
had a fear of needles, and sharp blades, and always included some during
procedures like this to introduce a level of uncertainty in me.
When she wheeled the table over to the side of me, Dr
Forrest explained to the students that I was scheduled for a lot more tests at
this stage of the study, now that I was 25 years old, and she would expect me
to be adult about the way I handled them. She told them I was a rather
submissive girl, so they could treat me in a more casual way than most patients
they would be looking after, omitting explanations just to put me at ease, but
using those which would make me aware of impending discomfort. They could be as
forceful as they wished when handling my body since I was quite used to being
spanked and stretched, getting a level of enjoyment from such treatment, as
long as they were careful not to tear anything, or to inflict permanent damage
without authority. When she told me to say that it was agreeable, I promised I
would try my best to be obedient, and I would use my safe word only as a very
last resort. I already knew from previous visits that the milestone exams could
be very harrowing, but I had never been badly harmed, and Dr Forrest would
always make sure I experienced more pleasure than I did pain.
The doctor gripped a small tuft of my pubic hair, tugging it
as she explained to the students how she’d already taken photographs to
document my bush, and since she loves to have her girls childishly bald down
there, and derives great pleasure from de-nuding them herself, it was time to
remind the patient just how young and clean they look when completely bald.
Using disposable razors they would each carefully shave away
every single hair I’d grown in the last few months, leaving baby soft skin that
would be tested with their fingers first, then with a much more sensitive
method. She would allocate an area for each of them to shave me, then the final
delight was to oil the freshly shaved skin, with each nook and crevice
diligently attended to, and rubbed till every trace of oil was absorbed.
The students gathered round the chair I was seated in and
the young man asked why my bush was to be removed if it’s growth was part of
the study, so Dr Weston clarified for him that hair patterns were often allowed
to follow the patient’s own preferences. His fingers trailed across the soft
fur of my raised mound as he turned towards me, “Katie here likes her girlcleft
smooth and hairless, don’t you, little girl.”
“Yes Sir, it’s much nicer that way,” I replied.
“But if she never lets her pubic hair grow,” continued one
of the young women, “then how can she be part of that section of the study
program, without skewing the results.”
Dr Forrest answered this point, “We remind all our patients
not to shave for at least a week before their appointment, but some of the
program participants aren’t always co-operative, although, as it happens, the
numbers don’t adversely affect the study, because it’s a very large sample.
However, our young Katie here is in a control group, so she’s never any
problem, are you poppet.” The students looked a bit confused, so the doctor
explained that a number of the survey entrants were screened for their inclusion
in a special collection of participants, called a control group. These had
unassuming personalities, some were quite open to suggestion, some of them were
eager to help achieve the objectives of the study despite many of the more personal
discomforts, and others, like Katie, were very submissive, obediently following
any instructions they were given.”
Amy was handed a disposable razor and told to dry shave my
right labia from the point my slit started, right round to the top of my anal
groove, going with the direction of the hair, and they would repeat it later
using shaving foam, but for now it would allow a much better view. As Amy
shaved from my groin inwards, Dr Forrest asked if that was the method she used
on her own bikini line, and the girl admitted that on herself she would have
stretched the labia tight as she went along. The doctor pointed out that shaving
this area is a beautifully personal, intimate act that women react differently
to, and a doctor needs to be aware of her patient’s response, prompting them
for feedback, and assessing their needs, some of which are subtly hinted at.
Amy tucked her fingers into my slit, one of them across my clit, and another in
the dip of my vaginal entrance, making me tremble slightly at the sensations,
which Dr Forrest pointed out to her, suggesting she keep taking a fresh grip
quite often, and pull the lip out in tugs, rather than using a gentle pressure.
The other students were encouraged to watch my face for signs of distress or
concern that would indicate a strong aversion to the contact level Amy was
using, recommending a different approach be adopted if it seemed to be a
serious problem.
Naomi made the observation that I seemed more excited than
distressed for some reason, so Doctor Forrest invited her to move round and
pull my other labia out of the way so that she could get a better view of how
Amy was working. She gently eased my slit apart, displaying the pink inner
flesh, pulling harder as the doctor encouraged her, till my petal almost tore
off under the pressure, but Naomi explained to the others that she could see
Amy’s finger against my clitoral shaft, and another working its way into my
vagina. Dr Weston assured them that many women found their pelvic exams to be
very stressful, but a subtle stimulation of their erogenous zones, appearing
accidental, would raise their sexual excitement, which in turn would prove a
distraction from the anxiety and make the experience a more enjoyable one.
When Amy had removed all the hair from her designated area,
she stepped back so Jessica could take her place and shave my other outer lip,
which she did with just as much expertise as Amy had demonstrated, being just
as forceful at pulling me about. Jessica’s nails though, were longer than Amy’s
and she worked the point under my clitoral hood to dig in right at the base of
the shaft, while one of her other nails dug into that tender spot just below
the bottom of my cunny entrance. It was all I could do not to squirm about as
she ran the sharp blade up my labia from one end to the other.
Naomi shaved the right half of my mound, and then Martin
shaved the left half, leaving me perfectly baby smooth, without a single nick
to my skin. Dr Forrest produced a bottle of nice scented oil, and each of the
students massaged it into my bare skin, so by the time all four of them had
finished I was panting on the edge of orgasm, which the doctor pointed out to
them all, and also warned me that I hadn’t been given permission yet, so I
reluctantly had to calm myself down.
The chair I was attached to was adjusted to a more upright
sitting position, which the doctor told the young students was to enable a
breast examination, and while there were different techniques for handling
breasts, it was important to conduct a visual inspection first. Position was
important, as viewing from different angles and distance could reveal changes
in shape and structure indicative of many conditions, so they were to move
round to both sides, above the patient and below, then present their
observations at the end. Dr Forrest also gave them all some tips concerning the
white lab coats they were wearing, which had uses other than just protecting
their day clothes.
Amy’s coat was quite close fitting, so the doctor asked her
to step up to my left side, then to lean over my body and look along the
outside of my right breast, pointing out how a properly fitted garment kept
itself clear of the patient, avoiding unnecessary contact. Jessica wore hers unfastened,
and everyone watched as she moved between my thighs, the open edges trailing
along the sensitive skin on either side as it neared my spread pussy, setting my
legs trembling slightly. Doctor Forrest warned Jessica to watch her coat as its
edges worked into my slit, the dripping girl juice wetting the white cotton,
but she wouldn’t want to get it on her nice skirt. However, there were
advantages to the situation, such as stimulating female patients almost to the
point of orgasm while they would often be too embarrassed to make an issue of
it, just quietly suffering their rising tide of sexual excitement.
Dr Weston advised the youngsters to make sure they kept a
Farley File on all their patients, to record such things as shyness and sexual
excitability that they didn’t want to appear in their official practice
records, but were extremely useful in setting controls on how far they could
push the boundaries of medical ethics. They should try different methods as
they examined patients to see which ones worked best, and produced the most
interesting responses, as most people were unique in their attitudes and
upbringing. He’d known patients that were virtually frigid with their partners,
valiantly resisting all efforts to draw out personal matters, yet when pressed
to submit to an intimate exam, could be brought to multiple orgasms, and suffer
quite extreme treatment in the process. While some of them wouldn’t return
after their first display, many of them found ample reasons to present with
symptoms that may require a repeat visit, and multiple follow ups, especially
when new wrinkles were added to the procedures.
Demonstrating how pockets could be useful, Dr Forrest asked
Naomi to slip her spiral bound notebook into her pocket then lean over to
examine me, paying attention to how the wire had rubbed along the skin of my
waist, making me twitch as it tickled the sensitive nerve ends. Swapping it
with her own pad, Dr Forrest pointed out to Naomi that the end of the spiral
was now sticking out towards the patient, and as she moved up and down the
table, I was being scratched rather than tickled, and on being told to press up
against me, the wire pressed hard into my flesh without breaking the skin. The
doctor told them she had a range of notepads specially prepared for various
patients, depending on what their Farley file indicated, one of them even had a
sharp point that would actually penetrate the skin quite deeply, and several
patients would subject themselves to multiple wounds being inflicted without
complaint. Of course there would be profuse apologies afterward, but the same
process would be willingly endured on subsequent visits, often with just a
change of site for the damage.
Martin was next, being told to put his stethoscope into one
pocket with the earpiece out, and a haemostat into the other with the jaws
sticking out, then stand between my spread thighs and gently test the firmness
of my breasts with his hands. Dr Forrest showed him how to adjust his stance
without being obvious in what he was doing, slowly pressing the stethoscope end
into the lower part of my slit, gradually working it deeper into my pussy
entrance. Eventually there was four inches of the earpiece inserted into me,
the curve making it rub along the soft lower wall of my vagina and the upper
side of the entrance as Martin moved in and out with each change of position.
After a few minutes he stepped back quickly, the sudden removal making me arch
my hips as he asked if I was comfortable, under direction from the doctor,
which I assured him I was. Dr Weston explained the importance of engaging with
the patient to ensure they had opportunity to voice any concerns they had,
enabling a doctor to modify a treatment to remain within their comfort zone.
Brian Weston came over to my side, resting his hand on my
breast, with his thumb stroking the erect teat, as he asked me to help out by
showing a little reluctance during the next part of my examination. I agreed of
course, since just the sound of this guy’s voice makes me wet, and he’d always
taken very good care of me in the past when he was the duty doctor. Martin
continued to examine my breasts as gently as before, but now turned his hips
the other way, so that the haemostat in his pocked was now poking into my slit,
though a little further up than the stethoscope had. The jaws rubbed against my
throbbing clit, and despite the delicious sexual tingle rippling through my
pussy, I winced, telling Martin, when he asked, that there was something
sticking in me “down there”. At this point Dr Weston intervened, explaining to
the students that if they didn’t know the patient’s history then they would
have to gauge the level of the complaint being raised by studying the facial
expression and the intensity of the objection. Asking the students for their observations,
Amy said my slight frown showed only mild distress, and Naomi added that there
had been a glint in my eye, more like strong sexual arousal, so maybe I didn’t
want them to know I was getting turned on. Jessica pointed out that she thought
my protest lacked conviction, and seemed more apologetic, as if I didn’t really
want to make a fuss.
Commending them all Dr Weston confirmed that many female patients
became aroused when being man-handled, or woman-handled he added, nodding
towards the girls, but felt that they were expected to object for social
reasons, and hide the effect it was having on them. Often it was enough to
encourage them to be brave, or to tell them not to be silly girls, whichever
had the most successful effect on the individual, and to carry on, taking care
to monitor responses as they changed. Martin was instructed to exchange the
haemostat for a wider jawed pair, and set them slightly open; making sure the
patient could see the instruments that were going to be used on them as it
increased expectant anxiety levels. When he stepped back between my legs and
leaned forward, the opened jaws now rubbed up either side of my clitoral shaft
and pushed the hood further back each time he moved, exposing more of my love
button till the metal was digging into the base, right against my body.
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