Chapter 4 Selma
Selma
“Please take off your pants and undergarments and lay down on the couch.” Dr. Hershey gave her an encouraging smile.
“I… didn’t shave.” It was silly to worry about her grooming habits before the most awkward medical procedure of her life, but the thought popped into her head before she could stop it.
He smiled a little wider, then shook his head. “You’re a woman, not a little girl. Don’t worry about it. Do get comfortable, please. I’ll just need to fetch the ring—I won’t be a moment.”
It was a lot to ask of her—to get comfortable with her entire lower body exposed—but Selma obeyed nonetheless. She quickly got out of her pants and underwear, then lay on the couch waiting while Dr. Hershey rummaged around in his desk drawers on the other side of the bookshelf.
He was back by her side before she’d managed to calm her thudding heart, a small piece of gleaming metal trapped between his fingers.
“Can I see it?” she asked despite herself.
“Certainly.” He held his hand out toward her, letting the little device rest in his palm.
It was a small hexagon that looked an awful lot like something a builder would use to secure screws with. A nut, she thought they were called. Some sort of letters were etched along the silvery sides, but they were too small for her to make out.
“What does it say?”
“It’s just the make and serial number,” he said, closing his hand around it and dropping into a crouch by her side. “Are you comfortable? Use the cushions to support your neck. That’s it. Can you put one leg on the backrest for me?”
Selma obeyed, biting her lip as she lifted her leg up and out of the way, giving him access to her most private place. She stared straight up into the ceiling, avoiding his gaze—but he seemed to be focused on her sex rather than her eyes anyway.
“Good girl,” he murmured, scooting closer as he knelt. His large hands encircled her hips underneath her linen shirt, warming her skin as he adjusted her position. Without asking her to move it, he grabbed her straightened leg behind the knee and lifted it off the couch, spreading her further.
“Very good.”
His hot breath ghosted against the inside of her thigh, raising goosebumps in its wake. His hands followed, smoothing up along the inside of her thighs, spreading her wider still with a gentle, yet firm caress.
Her breath caught in her throat, every nerve in her skin suddenly alive with sensation. When Dr. Hershey brushed one hand up along her sex, she couldn’t hold back a gasp.
“I’m going to stimulate you now,” he said, letting the back of two fingers tease up and down her closed lips, tickling the hair there.
“S-stimulate?” Selma did her best to keep her voice calm, but she most definitely had never experienced an examination like this.
“We need your clitoris nice and plump for the ring to be fitted. In a more clinical setting, I would have to use tools to force it out—a rather painful procedure. But it’s just you and me here now, and I can achieve the same results with some gentle stimulation instead.”
“O-Okay.” Neither option seemed ideal, but at least this way, she wouldn’t get hurt. And regardless of what he was about to do to her, and how effective it may or may not be, once it was over she would have her freedom again.
When Dr. Hershey gently parted her slit with two fingers, she clenched her eyes shut and silently repeated that over and over.
“You are so tense,” he murmured, breath grazing her most intimate flesh this time. “Try to relax, sweetheart. It’ll be over faster if you can.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she whispered, doing her best to obey.
“You don’t have to call me ‘Doctor’ right now. I suspect it’s not helping you relax. My name is Marathin,” he said as he rubbed up and down her outer lips while keeping her slit spread open.
“Marathin?” The oddity broke her tense focus, her eyes fluttering open as she frowned. “The sign… said Dr. Martin Hershey?”
He cracked a half-smile, though his eyes didn’t flicker up to meet hers.
“Yes. I’m known as Martin here—when I was first hired, they misheard my name.
By the time I realized the mistake, they’d already ordered the name plaque.
But I’m mostly called Dr. Hershey by my colleagues and the support staff, so it never seemed worth the trouble to order a new one. ”
“But you ask your patients to call you by your given name?” she asked, grateful for the distraction of their conversation—even if it was hard to pretend like he wasn’t massaging her sex in an increasingly intimate fashion.
Marathin chuckled. “Only a very few. Your condition is rare—but the intimate nature of the procedure doesn’t lend itself well to formalities.
I find most women prefer to pretend I’m not their doctor during this process.
” He moved his thumb from her outer lips to the soft flesh between them, testing with gentle presses.
It was uncomfortable, dry, and the sensation made her tense her thighs.
“Shh, it’ll be better when you’ve lubricated,” he murmured, moving one hand to press her thigh back up on the sofa’s backrest. “You’re starting to flush nicely. Just relax. We’ll get you there.”
Selma forced a deep breath as she stared at the white ceiling, trying and failing to ignore his insistent stroking of her sex.
He wasn’t touching her clit, but on every upstroke, he manipulated her inner lips just enough that her flesh tensed around the sensitive bud, stimulating it ever so slightly.
It didn’t take long before, despite herself, heat began to collect between her legs and a soft, pleasant throb stirred in her abdomen.
“Good girl,” Marathin cooed when she inadvertently lifted her hips on another upstroke. “Very good.” And then, before she could fully comprehend what he was doing, he’d popped his thumb in his mouth, wetting the pad before he pressed it directly at her still-hooded clit.
The zing of sensation was sharp and made her grunt, but it was far from unpleasant—which made it so much worse.
She bit her lip hard and tried to shift her pelvis to lessen the stimulation, but he wasn’t having it.
He followed her movements with his thumb pressed hard against her little nub, rubbing in circles as he caught her hips with his other arm and grounded her to the couch.
“Easy now. Easy.” His dark voice was huskier than before, which did little to calm the throb of her blood pulsing heavily in her tissue. “Give in to the pleasure, sweetheart. The more fully you surrender, the quicker it’ll be over.”
He had a point. The sooner he could get her body to respond enough that he could slip the ring on her, the sooner she would be free.
It took everything Selma had to relax her thighs and reopen her legs fully for him.
“That’s it, well done,” Dr. Hershey said, shifting so he could maneuver more easily. He brought the hand that’d been keeping her leg on the backrest down to her sex, wetting his thumb in dampness she hadn’t know she was producing until he touched the hood of her clitoris.
“Let’s see if we can’t coax her out, hmm?
” His low hum was followed by pressure on both sides of her clit.
He rubbed up and down the tiny shaft, squeezing gently on the upstroke, just enough to set her nerves alight.
Over and over he rode it, only changing it up by occasionally letting his free fingers brush along her spread lips, teasing her opening ever so lightly.
Soon she was squirming, not to escape, but to increase the pressure of his touch, her breath coming in soft pants.
“Starting to feel good?” he asked, and she could have sworn he was smirking.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Selma hoped it was a rhetorical question as a low groan made its past her clenched teeth.
Thankfully he didn’t push for an answer, nor did he comment on her body’s involuntary, but embarrassing, signs of pleasure. Instead, he doubled his efforts on her clit, pinching harder as he rubbed it up and down.
It was too much, too intense, but when she pulled back he followed her, capturing her against the end of the sofa.
“Give in, sweetheart,” he purred. “You want to feel better, don’t you? I’ll make you feel so good. Listen to your body—it knows.”
Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny the rising flood of heat in her pelvis, and despite her mewls of reluctance, soon her thighs spread wider of their own accord, inviting him in.
It’d been so long since a man attended to her needs, and the doctor knew how to make her come alive as she’d never been before.
“Please,” she panted, not knowing what she was asking for. “Please!”
“I see her,” he rumbled, voice hoarse. “Starting to peek out from her protective hood. So pretty and pink, your little pearl. Begging for more, hmm?”
In a wild moment, she thought he might put his mouth on her, but her fevered thoughts were quashed as he twisted around, fingers still stroking firmly, and grabbed the metal ring in his free hand.
When he brought it back around, her eyes caught his—and something in her gut that had little to do with the pleasure he was forcing on her clenched.
There was a look in his fiery eyes then, something dark, and from deep inside a wave of fear bloomed despite her arousal.
Get away! Get away! Selma, get away!
The voice rang through her mind as clearly as if someone had shouted it into her ear. She gasped, choking on a groan when Marathin pinched her clit, forcing it fully out from the hood.
No, she had to get away! She had to escape. That voice—
Metal gleamed between her thighs and she kicked out, but it was too late. The doctor pinned her legs with his elbows, spread her labia wide—and in the next second, the cool ring slipped over her throbbing clit.
The moment the metal hoop touched her, darkness rose around them both. Yet despite a bolt of panic, Selma quickly lost the ability to care.
Marathin twisted the band, tightening it unbearably against her sensitive nub—and Selma screamed as black stars of agony exploded before her eyes.
“Take it off!” She managed to squeal despite the pain pulsing through her with every frantic beat of her heart. Reaching down, she tried to rid herself of the torture device. “Please, please—!”
Marathin caught her hands easily in one of his own, stilling her desperate squirming as he reached between her legs again. “Give in!” he growled, and then his hot fingertips pinched the still-free tip of her clit. “Come for me!”
It shouldn’t have worked. The pain was so severe, and her panic so overwhelming that her nerves should not have been able to feel pleasure as well. But when he pinched her trapped little bud, warmth flooded her pelvis—and from nowhere, an orgasm rose hard and fast.
Her attempts to escape stilled, quashed on a tidal wave of agonized bliss. Selma howled, arching up from the sofa as her doctor rubbed savagely at her clit. The darkness seemed to close in from all sides, but she was beyond caring.
“Come for me, Selma!” he commanded again, pressing his free hand against her forehead to push her down into the couch. Pain seared where he touched her, but it was brief and quickly swallowed by the torment he was inflicting on her sex.
Squeezing her eyes shut and closing out anything but the burning sensation of pain and ecstasy, she finally obeyed, screaming in agonized surrender as her body seized.
Marathin’s thick fingers penetrated her weeping core, pushing her over the edge. He fucked her in rhythm with her cramping orgasm until her torment was forgotten and all she knew was ecstasy.