3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
J essica
By the time he finally enters, I’m a mess of anxiety and insecurity.
“Ms. Jones.” He gives me a nod, his expression unreadable.
Uh-oh. Is he angry, upset, or, worst of all, doesn’t care?
He looks over my vital signs the nurse wrote down.
“Have you been continuing your self-exams at home?” he asks.
An image of me screaming into my pillow with my vibrator between my legs flashes through my mind.
“Yes, doctor,” I answer.
“Good,” he says, and I feel a twinge of pride. I’m not sure why, but I want his approval.
He moves toward me and explains, “Today we’re going to do a speculum exam so I can get your pap smear done. Do you know what that is?” He gestures to a metal tray that’s been pulled up to the side of my table. A long sheet of paper towels are draped over the top of it, so I haven’t been able to see what the tray contains. With an efficient movement, he whips it off, revealing a variety of jars, Q-tips, and swabs. A large silver speculum sits on the tray. It’s bigger than any I’ve seen before, with its long neck secured by screws.
Dr. West picks it up and holds it out before me. The overhead lights reflect off its shiny surface.
“Yes, I’ve had that done before,” I answer.
He frowns at that, the expression fleeting. “I doubt you’ve been examined as deeply as I’m going to do. I need to take a good look today.”
I shouldn’t feel excited by those words. It’s so wrong, yet somehow I am. “Okay,” I agree breathlessly.
Dr. West unfolds the stirrups, and I place my heels into them. Without warning, he grasps my hips and drags me down to him. He pulls me so that my butt almost hangs off the table. Like the last time, he turns on the bright light and directs its beam at the space between my legs. The wheels squeak when he takes a seat on the rolling stool.
“Let’s see what we have going on here,” he says. I watch him apply a thin layer of lubricant to the speculum.
“Drop your knees to the sides,” he commands.
I do as he asks, letting my legs fall open. A wave of lamp-warmed air hits my core, which is already damp. Moisture has been pooling there ever since he walked into the room.
This time, when his fingers separate me, I can feel the warmth of his skin through his gloves. It’s surprising, so I jump slightly.
“Hold still,” he admonishes.
“I’m sorry, doctor.”
His fingers have moved deeper. They are probing, sliding along my folds, searching for my opening. It feels divine to have him touch me again. My head drops back with a sigh.
He gives a small grunt of satisfaction when he finds what he wants. He slips a finger inside of me and works it around, stretching me out. It’s wrong to enjoy his touch like this. I try to ignore how it turns me on. I try not to moan, but it’s impossible.
He’s a lightning rod, and I’m the lightning. I can’t help being attracted to him.
Suddenly his finger is gone.
I want to cry from the loss of it.
“I’m putting in the speculum now. You’re going to have a sensation of fullness.”
Surprisingly gently, Dr. West eases the cold metal into my channel. It’s so big, it’s uncomfortable. I tense against it, my muscles going rigid.
“Relax. Let me in,” he says, his voice stern.
There’s a clicking sound as he opens the speculum even wider. I do my best to hold still, but it’s unpleasant. The stretching sensation is bordering on painful. Just when I think I can’t take it, he cranks the device open even farther.
“Ow,” I complain.
Dr. West looks up. “Does it hurt?”
I don’t want him to think I’m weak, so I lie and say, “Only a little.” The truth is, I feel like I’m about to be split in two.
He tsks, a disappointed sound. “I need you to hold still. I have to get a good look.” He focuses those stormy eyes on me.
I nod, eager to please. “I will. I promise.”
Lifting my head off the table, I peer down at him.
Dr. West wears a frown of concentration as he looks through the speculum. “I’ll gather samples to send to the lab for your pap,” he tells me. He picks up a bristle tipped swab from the tray. There’s a pinch when he puts it in and spins it around. Then it’s out and he drops it into a tube, sealing it away. Next, he selects something that looks like a Q-tip, but huge, like a giant would use. He sticks it into me, and I can feel it rolling along my inner walls. It’s pleasant, and the pain from the speculum fades, replaced by this new sensation.
After a minute, he pulls the swab out and holds it up to the light to look it over. The tip glistens with moisture.
“I’m going to get a clitoral sample now,” he says. “Did you know the clitoris has a hood on it?”
I shake my head no.
“It does. A small piece of skin that protects it, almost like how a sleeve covers your arm.”
He reaches up above where the speculum protrudes. “If I pull back the hood, your clitoris is exposed and is more easily stimulated.” He pushes the skin back, and a blast of air hits the sensitive area. Dr. West takes the damp swab and rolls it over my clit in a smooth, firm motion. My head drops back on the table, and I sigh out a moan. Whatever he just did felt amazing. I’m instantly turned on. Then he taps the swab against my clit which has begun to swell. Tap. Tap. My knees jerk involuntarily at the contact. I can feel arousal pooling around the speculum. He circles the swab over my clit, around and around.
I’m panting. An ache grows between my legs.
“Good,” Dr. West says, sounding pleased, but I can’t look at him to see his expression. My eyes are squeezed shut, focused on what he’s doing to me.
“I’m going to palpate your insides and check for any masses or irregularities,” he says. Still stimulating my clit, he sticks his fingers into the opening of the speculum. “I can reach much deeper now that I have this holding you open.” I can feel him in there, stroking me. My hips rock to the motion.
“I have three fingers inside of you now, Ms. Jones,” he says in his deep, gravely voice. “Can you feel them?”
“Oh, yes,” I breathe out.
He pushes into me even more. The speculum digs in, but all I feel is his touch. Electricity is building in me, zinging along my spine and heading straight to my core.
Dr. West moves the swab more rapidly now, and my body moves with it, vibrating under his careful ministrations. He bends his finger slightly, and it increases the pressure against the sensitive skin down there. I whimper, rocking my hips to his rhythm. I’m so wet now that there are moist slapping sounds every time his fingers bottom out in me. There’s an orgasm growing inside me, just the tease of it but getting bigger every second.
“I want you to touch your breasts now,” he says. “I need to see if you’re doing your self-exam correctly.”
I hadn’t noticed before, but the jerking of my body as it moves in time to his fingers has knocked my gown open. My chest is on full display, tits bouncing as my hips roll. Without hesitation I bring a hand to each breast and knead the soft flesh.
“Like this?” I ask tentatively, not completely sure what he wants from me.
“No. Harder. To do a proper self-exam, you must be firm.”
I peek down and quake at the scowl on his face.
To appease him, I press my fingers with more force into my breasts.
“Don’t forget the nipples,” he tells me. “Remember what I told you about how there can be masses hiding behind them. Palpate that area. Don’t neglect it.”
I move my hand to my nipples and give them each a sharp tweak, which sets off a pleasurable twinge between my legs. A low moan slips out of my lips.
“Am I—am I doing it right?”
“Yes. Much better. Please continue.”
I smile at the approval I hear in his tone.
His hands move faster as I pinch and roll each nipple between my fingers. My nerve endings trade signals between my nipples and core. I’ve never come without direct stimulation of my clit before, but I’m so turned on by this drag of his fingers in my pussy with the teasing of my breasts that my legs begin to tremble as a climax rises in me.
Thrust, pinch, stroke, roll, rub, flick. Everything merges together, and it all feels so good that I’m panting, my chest heaving, my hips slamming against the table. The pleasure and fullness and friction make me grind against him. The orgasm rips through me. I buck wildly, one foot slipping off the stirrup in the process. It goes on for a long time, the most intense orgasm of my life.
Finally, Dr. West slows down. He removes his hand and picks up a plastic bottle with my name on it from the tray. He rubs the fingers of his glove along the inside of the bottle, leaving behind a smear of my wetness. After he’s screwed the cap back on, he holds the bottle up to the light and peers at it.
“That should be enough sample for the lab.”
The high I was riding from the orgasm comes crashing down. Of course, he was just collecting body fluid to send to pathology. For a moment I had been delusional and I had thought he liked pleasuring me, but that’s silly. A schoolgirl’s fantasy. He’s a doctor doing his job. I’m just another patient. The thought that he’s doing this with other patients makes me jealous. How many women has he finger-fucked in the name of science today?
No. No. I shouldn’t think of it that way. He’s a professional doing his job. That’s all this is between us. Nothing more. I can’t even be mad about it. It’s not like he’s ever promised me more. I pull the paper gown tight over my now-chafed breasts.
Dr. West sees that I’m struggling to sit up. He comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder to help me into an upright position.
“You did well today,” He tells me. Even though I know it’s wrong because he’s my doctor, happiness expands its wings in my chest.
Adam
God. That felt good.
Watching her fall apart on my fingers. How the tremors rolled through her as she lost herself in the pleasure I gave. It was intoxicating. Addictive.
I’d been so determined to hurt her. To remind her who held the power now. But then she’d whimpered, just a single, soft, fragile sound. The speculum had been too wide.
My resolve had faltered.
I want to make her feel . Pain, yes, but only the kind that lingers, that melts into pleasure until she doesn’t know the difference. Today, I’d read her and been slow when she needed slow. Fast when she needed fast. Jessica was so…transparent. Her desires were right there, written across her pretty face.
There for me alone to read.
That realization unsettles something in me. I’ve had women before. Many. Some begged for me. Chased me. They offered themselves freely, eager to be conquered. I’ve taken them all, and I’ve enjoyed them. But none of them— none —have ever been like this.
I’ve never been this sure of someone.
Never known exactly what would shatter them.
Never wanted to break them just to see how they’d come undone.
But with Jessica?
I know her.
I know how she writhes and how she burns. I know the way her pleasure coils into something desperate, how her lips part when she’s on the edge, right before she falls.
I should leave her alone—but fuck—I want more.
I’m not done with her yet. Not even close.
My pretty prom princess.
She used to be untouchable.
Not anymore.
Jessica
Dr. West stands close to the door with his head bent as he makes a note in my chart. Our appointment is about to end. The reality of it leaves me hollow, the empty ache of having lost something.
“Did you know I make house calls?” he asks.
I perk up at that. Is he suggesting we see each other outside of the office? Does he want to take this further?
“Oh?” My voice is cautious, but my pulse betrays me, kicking up a notch. I must be imagining this, right? It seems too much to ask, that he could be interested in me .
He nods, amusement dancing in his expression. This is the most animated I’ve seen him so far, and it feels like a gift, to get this glimpse of the man behind the white coat. He settles back into his usual cool facade. He pulls a small white notebook and ballpoint pen from his pocket. It only takes a few seconds for him to scribble some numbers on a piece of paper.
“This is my cell phone.” He holds the paper out to me, seven digits neatly printed. No messy doctor handwriting. “Text me your address later. I’ll come to your place on Friday at 7:00 p.m.”
I take the paper and stare down at it, cocking my head. “Don’t you have my address in your files?”
“I do.” He sets his jaw and says no more.
Puzzled, I chew on the inside of my cheek. It takes a long minute before I understand. This is his way of giving me the option to reject him. To have control of the situation for once. If I don’t want to let him know where I live, he’ll respect that. He won’t look it up.
Mostly, I’ve viewed him with lust. For the first time, a slow flush of affection works its way through my system.
I beam at him, which makes him blink in a way that’s almost comical.
“Okay!”
“Okay,” Dr. West repeats slowly, then says words that send my heart soaring. “It’s a date.”