by Nora Ash
Selma stared up at him in alarm, but he only briefly met her eyes before he let go of her hips. The reprieve from his burning touch was, however, short lived, as he once again grabbed her knees and spread them with a firm pressure against the insides, which—to her horror—traveled up along the smooth skin.
“W-what are you... ?” His hands brought a burning tingle up along her inner thighs, and her mouth felt dry. She couldn’t help but stare at them as they approached her center. Surely, this was not how he’d instigate the examination? Surely this was highly unprofessional and—
“I am just getting you into position. Relax, Selma.” His voice sounded completely composed, even as his fingertips brushed over the crease where her thighs met her mound, and she jolted, abandoning the attempt at appearing calm. The flush his touch had caused didn’t allow her to keep up the pretense.
The doctor simply made a shushing sound, turning his hands so each rested underneath a thigh. With skilled ease he lifted her right leg by applying pressure just beneath her buttocks, smoothly sliding back down her hamstring until he reached the back of her knee so he could place her calf in the cushioned stirrup. Without hesitation he repeated the action with her left leg, lightly brushing the topmost part of her scar with a thumb as he did so.
And then she was spread open for him, the implication thoroughly magnified when he stepped so close that there was barely any air between her curls and his pants. The disturbing realization that the height of the chair had her completely unprotected slit aligned with his zipper did not improve her enjoyment of the incredibly mortifying position.
“There, that wasn’t too bad, I hope?” He sent her a reassuring smile, and despite the beet-red shade of her face, Selma automatically shook her head. Admitting that yes, it was really that bad would just take everything to an entirely new level of awkward.
The doctor gave her a quick once-over, ensuring that her hips and legs were placed as they should before moving away from her spread thighs—to her great relief—and around to her side. “I will just get you leaned back, and then we’ll get started,” he informed her at the same time as reaching behind the seat and pulling on something, which made her tip backwards slowly and smoothly.
As soon as she was flat on her back his head popped into her field of vision, the horns being oddly outlined by the sharp light attached to the ceiling. His otherness seemed to shimmer more strongly as he bent over her, and she closed her eyes when that familiar panic of being close to one of them set in again. It’d faded while they talked, his calm and kind composure soothing her natural caution of them, but being so completely helpless for him...
Warm hands slid over her ribcage, brushing the shirt open and nestling underneath her breasts, causing an involuntary hitch in her breathing.
“Your heart is beating so fast,” he murmured, those large hands moving in what was probably meant to be small, soothing circles, but only emphasized the feel of his palm against her bare skin along with gentle brushes along the sensitive underside of her breasts. She felt her nipples harden in response.
“Are you still scared of me?”
Despite the gentle tone the suddenly somewhat firmer press against her ribs lessened her desire to test him with another lie. “Yes,” she whispered, shamefully aware that her firmly shut eyes must make her appear like a silly child trying to hide from the darkness by pretending it isn’t there. “But... but it’s okay, I just... I know you’re not a monster.”
A low chuckle made her crack open an eye, and the sight of his wry smile met her.
“That’s good; that’s a step in the right direction,” he assured her, face slipping back into the professional mask as his hands slid up and over her breasts, encompassing them fully. “Try to relax while I examine you. Your fear is understandable—do not be ashamed of it, but try to remember that by the end of this session, you should be much better already. Now, how does this feel?”
“Uh...” It felt like firm heat pressed gently against her soft flesh from all sides. She had a small C-cup and had always thought of her size as ‘average’, but in his oversized hands she felt... well, not flat; it was impossible to feel small with just how completely he dominated her nerve endings by touching her there—nothing capable of so much sensation could be underdeveloped. But he sure didn’t have trouble covering every inch of them. “Uh, it’s... it’s okay.”
“It doesn’t feel tender or uncomfortable?” If he noticed that her general fear was fluctuating with embarrassment he didn’t show it, his gaze focused on her chest as he pressed gently, observing her body’s reactions.
“Nu-uh!” The last syllable was somewhat higher pitched, because the doctor had separated his fingers on both hands, letting her pink nipples slip through the gap before pinching firmly.
“And this?”
“No.” Her brown eyes locked on the sensitive buds in his grip, her brows furrowing as she fought not to whimper. Her efforts failed as he lifted his hands with his fingers still lodged around her nipples, pulling gently to make them stretch up before he let them slip through the gaps.
“They seem suitably responsive,” he said in a tone that indicated he was noting this down in his memory as a reference point, rather than commenting for her benefit. His index fingers and thumbs grabbed and plucked them a couple of times until they were achingly hard under his touch. “Any discomfort now?”
Such an incredible amount of discomfort! Her furiously blushing face should have been enough of an answer, but she assumed he meant of the physical kind and tried to get her throat to squeak out an answer. “Bit... a bit tender.” Purely from the unaccustomed attention—it had been an eternity since a man had gotten handsy with her—but if it got him to stop the disturbing onslaught on her sensitive peaks she was not above mild exaggeration.
“Hmm,” he hummed, letting his fingertips knead the flesh carefully. “Glands are well developed, tissue appropriately soft. Good, no problems so far.”
The abrupt removal of his warm hands made the air seem uncomfortably chilly in contrast, and goose bumps crawled from her dusky pink areolas up her arms and down her stomach. But before she managed a full, shaky breath of relief his fingers were on her torso again, this time pressing lightly underneath her ribs, traveling down inch by inch, press by press.
“You need to eat a bit more, Selma.” Dr. Hershey had gotten to her stomach, but stopped the pressing for a minute so he could move back around to stand between her spread legs again, gaining easier access to her lower body. His fingers found her flesh again, prodding at the area around her naval.
“Uhm... ?” Despite the increased tension throughout her body as his tall frame once again loomed terribly close to her exposed center, his words caught her off guard; she’d always been hovering around a normal, healthy weight for her medium build, and no one had ever suggested she was too skinny.
His hands smoothed out over her abdomen, keeping a light pressure up. “A slightly thicker layer under your skin will be helpful in encouraging optimization of your hormonal production. It is somewhat the same principle as for women who are trying to conceive; estrogen and progesterone levels peak with just a marginally higher body fat percentage. In fact, a prenatal vitamin supplement would be beneficial too.”
“I’m not trying to get pregnant,” she pointed out, attempting to recall the biology classes that had focused on human physiology, but nothing that came back to her was helpful in supporting or disputing his claim.
His pressing fingers moved out and down, probably searching for her ovaries. “When you do become pregnant, your hormonal level will—eventually—benefit. Of course, it’ll most likely make your hallucinations come back at first, even if we do manage to settle them with this treatment, but afterward you should be a lot more stable. However, the vitamins and weight gain will support your mental health’s recovery long before pregnancy.”
She could have pointed out that she never planned to have children, but just then the doctor turned around to pu
ll over a chair, placing it so he could prop himself on it comfortably, and every muscle in her body tensed up in realization of what his gaze now rested on. It was ridiculous, really; she’d had these examinations done before... there was no point in being shy. So he was a psychiatrist instead of a gynecologist—no big deal; he was an acclaimed researcher, head of his field—
“Oh!” Selma bit back on her outburst as heated skin brushed against the curls between her legs.
Dr. Hershey hummed soothingly, but when she glanced down his head was bent over her groin and his focus was solely on his work. He pressed a little firmer against her lips, increasing the warm sensation from his touch before dragging both thumbs upwards, parting her labia in the process.
“I will need to check that you respond appropriately to stimulation before we continue with the internal examination,” he said unconcernedly, casting a quick look up at her alarmed face. The orange eyes seemed to flame, creating an odd discord to his professional tone. “Try to keep your hips still for me.” And then, offering her no chance to protest, his thumbs slid to the top of her slit, pinching the small pearl located there firmly between them.
A shockwave of sensation shuddered through the brunette, and it was all she could do to keep her legs in the stirrups instead of squeezing her thighs shut. Her fingers curled against the chair, but there was nothing she could do to control the low whimper escaping her throat.
“I know; you like to be touched more gently.” She could have sworn that there was a note of amusement in his voice, but the firm pressure against her most sensitive spot made it hard to focus. And then he shifted the pressure, gently pulling the protective hood away so her clit was completely exposed and defenseless. “Mmmh, you certainly are very sensitive here, perhaps even more so than is normal.” Keeping the hood back with two fingers he reached back with his right hand and grabbed something off the table.
Selma attempted to pull away just enough to ensure a minimal sense of safety for her tender nub, but the doctor’s gaze immediately turned back to her when she shifted in the chair.
“Keep still.” It was a flat-out command, and she froze mid-movement. The otherwise kind doctor was certainly authoritative!
He swiveled back around fully, and to her relief she saw that it was some form of lubrication bottle he’d reached for, and not one of the unpleasant-looking instruments. He held it at an angle between her legs, and a cool spike shot through her when a small amount landed directly on her clit.
“There, that should make this more pleasant.” He shifted his grip again, manipulating the protective hood between two fingers on both hands, and with a small movement he brought it back up, spreading the lubricant over the entire nub underneath it. A deep-rooted shiver went through Selma as her hyper-alert nerves reacted to the—now soothing—touch, and she let out an involuntary gasp.
But when he immediately pulled the fingers back down, her hips lifted instinctively in an effort to protect herself.
Dr. Hershey released her clit, but if she thought he was done, she was sorely mistaken.
“I cannot continue if you don’t lie still. If you don’t mind, we’ll constrict your thighs to the chair so I can manipulate your clitoris without being interrupted.” There was just enough sharpness in the doctor’s voice to quell her protests before they were even voiced, so she lay mutely while the leather straps she’d refused to focus on when she entered the room was strapped just below her knees and around her thighs.
The humiliation of being tied to a gynecological chair made her close her eyes, and so she wasn’t prepared for his touch to return. She jumped in surprise as her lips were once again spread and the hood pushed back, but the restraints kept her firmly in place, and Dr. Hershey not so much as paused. The gentle movements up and down her clit started immediately, aided by the lubricant, and in her helpless state all she could do was let it happen.
“There, that’s much better, isn’t it? Just relax… your body is responding nicely. How does it feel?”
What was there to say to that? She was tied down, and a stranger—with horns—was rubbing her more intimately than anyone else before him... and the physical stimulation was slowly but surely getting to her.
“It’s okay.” It was barely more than an embarrassed whisper.
Grabbing her abused clit between thumb and a knuckle he placed the now free hand on her lower stomach, pressing down firmly to keep her completely still as he picked up the pace some. “Do you feel aroused? As I said, your body is responding as it should; your clitoris and labia have begun to swell and expose the vagina, and there are signs of lubrication, but it is important to note if the physical stimulation correlates to your mental and emotional experience.”
She could feel it, her body’s response to him. She could feel her pussy opening up in invitation, readying her for the expected penetration; she could feel her thoughts fall into the seducing rush of hormones, basic chemistry betraying her as she fought the urge to give in to the pleasurable aspect of it all. Though, if she admitted to getting some level of enjoyment out of the perverse situation, maybe he would finally relent and move on to the more customary parts of the examination?
“Yes, a little.” It was the ultimate humiliation; confessing that she found her gynecological checkup sexually stimulating, but the entire thing was already so far out of her comfort zone that all she could do was grasp on to the fact that he was behaving as if everything was perfectly normal.
However, her admission didn’t stop the onslaught on her exposed flesh, and the stimulation was rapidly becoming uncomfortably intense, forcing her body to react. She could feel more moisture rush to her core, and her hips were fighting to press up against his touch as internal muscles contracted in search of something to clench around.
“Please stop.” She couldn’t do this; she couldn’t orgasm in front of her doctor. “Please, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He looked up then, flaming eyes catching hers. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, Selma. I need to see you climax from clitoral stimulation, so we can be sure that the therapy will work.”
He couldn’t be serious! Eyes wide with shock she scrambled to get up, hands flying down to try to push his fingers away. “No, please, I’m really not comfortable with that!”
She’d expected him to stop then, so they could discuss other options for her treatment. She hadn’t expected that he’d grab her wrists in the hand not busy on her clit.
“Be calm,” he told her as he pressed her back down flat on her back without releasing her wrists or seemingly put in any effort despite her weak struggling. “This is a necessary step, and strictly about your treatment. Please be still so I can concentrate; if I miss certain signs it could make the later treatment unpleasant or ineffective.”
The big hand stayed firmly wrapped around her wrists as he returned his focus to her clit, and Selma moaned in distress as she felt her body give in. Heat rushed through her from his touch, followed by electric charges of pleasure that made her muscles cramp and tense to arch against the pressure, though the leather straps around her thighs and his hand on her wrists kept her down.
“Please!” she gasped, trying—and failing—to calm her breathing to regain a minimum of control of her own body. She wasn’t used to it responding so willingly to another's touch, but the doctor seemed to know exactly how to manipulate her aching nub, and within minutes she was on the edge, fighting against him with the last bits of willpower not hazed over by her body’s demand for release.
But then he started speaking, and his voice was no longer distantly professional; it was dark and velvety, heated with promise.
“Give in, sweetheart,” he murmured, never easing his hold or the pressure between her legs. “Be a big girl and come for me; let me see you take my pleasure now.”
The shock that vibrated through her when the professional barrier came crashing down between them was enough for her to completely lose her grip on any remaining composure; white-hot ple
asure snapped through her body and exploded in her brain, and she was dimly aware of the hoarse cry forcing its way out her throat as she finally shuddered in orgasm.
Relief flooded her system on a river of endorphins. Had she ever come so hard before? The buzzing in her mind said no, but it was hard to remember while the pleasurable aftershocks still coursed through her veins in tingly tendrils.
“That’s it, take your time.” A warm hand stroked over her inner thigh and swollen labia. “Ride it out.”
Her body pressed against his touch, as if it realized that he was the source of its pleasurable state, but something in the back of her mind tried to wake up from the haze to warn her about him. There was something wrong, something not quite right about the way he rubbed her tummy and praised her.
It broke through the haze when his one hand traveled up far enough to surround a breast, squeezing it gently, while the other nestled against her lower lips, caressing her softly and intimately. Startled, she opened her eyes and stared up at the creature posing as a doctor. His horns were silhouetted against the sharp ceiling light, and the flaming eyes burned against his eerily handsome face.
He had her tied up and at his mercy, with no one within earshot, should she need to scream for help, and no way of overpowering the much-bigger man.
“Shh, relax sweetheart.” The hand around her breast slipped down and rubbed her stomach again, creating pleasant shivers in its wake. “You did very well. Are you ready to continue?”
Selma swallowed thickly as she forced her brain to focus on the situation, rather than on her post-orgasmic bliss. If his reaction to her protests before was any indicator, she wouldn’t be allowed back to her room before he had finished whatever it was he had intended with this examination, and in her vulnerable position she had nothing to gain by trying to defy him. So… she nodded stiffly, praying silently that he didn’t intend to harm her.