Medical Fetish Erotica
"Exposed" by Chloe Waits
I tap my foot, glancing through the magazine in my hands without seeing it. Full of nervous energy as I wait my turn in this bland, white office. So sterile, even the potted hibiscus is fake, evergreen and perfect.
I am led to Examination Room One minutes later. The doctor barely glances at me, making notes as he absently takes my history. In his fifties, graying hair, looking like so many others they blur together. This is the fifth clinic I have been to this month.
Finally the moment has arrived. "Please put on the gown. I will be back momentarily."
I disrobe, trembling. The gown is not even cloth, but a disposable paper one. Crêpe and thin, it offers no false modesty. I lie down on the table staring at the bright lights on the ceiling. A door opens and I sense his presence.
"Legs up in the stirrups, please."
I fumble on the cold metal to position my legs as he spreads them wide, impossibly wide; light shining from his headlamp.
I cannot hide. That moment of shock and shame – of the forbidden – as he gazes with an intensity not even a lover would assume. Every secret I have lies open to his penetrating eyes, professional and cold. My full labia welcoming him. The heat has started in me.
"So when did the pain start?"
"Last week, when I have sex – I mean intercourse."
I almost jump to the sudden probing of his rubberized fingers.
"And where is the pain located?"
Biting my lip, "Um, kind of everywhere."
"Well, let’s have a look, shall we?" His voice sounds slightly patronizing.
The speculum is in his hand. "You may feel some coldness."
Slipping the speculum in without preamble, I flinch in discomfort. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. My desire grows with this pure detachment. I hear him winding the speculum open, stretching my passage to his view. Again, his thick rubber fingers on my pink inner layers. The wetness is starting, the swelling and hunger. My back is arching lightly and I am bearing down on the metal instrument inside me.
"I don’t see anything unusual." He doesn’t see anything but cunt wide open to him. He has seen hundreds of cunts. Soft, wet, juicy, folds of all shapes and sizes.
But has he seen one blooming hungrily during an exam?
Scarlet and twitching, my moisture is making the instrument slick. I contract the tight ring of flesh repeatedly around this welcomed invader, knowing every ripple is visible to his eyes.
Finally, what I am waiting for – a bare brush of his hand against my budded clitoris. My arousal is obvious in a gasp. "Did that hurt?" His fingers feeling my tight, wet flesh.
My face is starting to burn. This is the time they usually withdraw quickly, my vague symptoms and flood of wet juices letting them know that I am not there for medical attention. Professional voices stating they will send off swabs etc. Writing referrals. Anything to get me out of their offices.
"There is lubrication, the pain is not from dryness. Do you reach climax during sexual relations?"
"Usually."
I feel his finger on my clitoris then it moves. I am burning and throbbing. Slow, occasional strokes, bare touches, as he exams every inch of my folds. I am panting now, helplessly.
I hear the sound of a zipper undone. "I am going to do one final exam." His voice is detached, but there is a faint sheen on his face. "Legs wide," he intones. The speculum holds my tight wet flesh open to him. Accessible. I feel a surge of hard warmth filling me, a soft grunt.
He is standing motionless between my legs.
"Any pain now?"
I cannot reply. Then I feel the metal scraping against me with measured thrusts. In and out. His face is plum colored with his movements. Legs wide, wide. Wider. Building waves consume me. A flood of warm liquid in my open canal.
The speculum is abruptly removed. A zipper closed.
"We will have to continue investigating the source of your discomfort. Re-book in two weeks."
Turning away. The door closes.
I am left alone, shaking, holding the creased folds of my wet paper gown.
Originally published July 2009