Dr. Slut's Office

Jill leads me straight to her office and very quickly shuts the door behind me. I think she has it locked even before it's shut. Then she turns to me, a look of pure nervous fear on her face. Nervous that I'm here at all. That her secret could get revealed. In her office. While patients are here. Something that would utterly destroy her reputation, force her to move far away, and even then still follow her around.

But I wouldn't let that happen. She is just going to have to learn to trust me.

Chapter 02: The Sentence

Jill is a fairly tall woman, around 5'8" and 135 pounds. As nervous as she is, she still remembers to stand properly before me. She faces me, her feet a couple of inches apart, and her hands behind her back. I insist that my toys stand like that. Jill would be punished if she stood before me any other way. More so now that she's already in trouble.

I can see how nervous she is. She usually a very sure and composed woman. But not now. She's still blushing slightly. And she trembling just slightly. Even though she locked the door, her eyes are still darting around the room anxiously, constantly making sure that no one is going to see or hear anything. She's far from still.

Jill is a pretty woman. She has long, frizzy-curly blond hair that spreads out to cover the tops of her shoulders. It's a fairly light shade of blond, too. And I don't see any gray in it yet. She has brilliant blue eyes to go with it. They decorate a slightly rounded face with soft lines and softer features. Except for her nose. That's slightly long with defined, sharp lines. Unlike her jawline with its soft features. And she has a rather wide mouth framed with a fine pair of light pink lips.

She's dressed for work. Or should I say she's dressed to work, not to sit at a desk all day? Then again, she wouldn't be much of a doctor at a desk. She's wearing comfy jeans. They're slightly snug on her, but not overly so. And they clearly have a designer label on them, as does everything she's wearing. I can see a snug undershirt with spaghetti straps over her shoulders, underneath a white, long-sleeved shirt that's buttoned just high enough to fully hide her cleavage. She has a matching white blazer on over that. And she's wearing sneakers. A smart choice for a woman who will be spending the day on her feet. All of which meet my dress code.

Although I don't know about her underwear. That's where I have the strictest standards. I wonder if she's wearing comfortable undies, one a woman would wear to work in, or if she might have something sexy on just in case her boyfriend might see them later. I know, whatever her choice was, she didn't plan for me to be seeing her in them. Good, now I'll see how she really dresses when she doubts she'll be seen by me. Doubts she'll have to endure the punishment if I catch her.

I don't have much time. I'm sure I could keep Jill in here for a while if I wanted to. But in about 20 minutes a patient is expecting her. If Jill doesn't show up, sooner or later (OK, later), eventually a nurse will come to find her. Eventually, the rumors will start around the office about what Jill and were doing behind closed doors. Rumors live forever. So now I have to hurry. But Jill doesn't have to know that, although she should be able to guess it. If she were thinking clearly, which it doesn't look like she's doing. I'd bet her only thought is whether she's going to get caught.

"Stay," I say firmly, but without raising my voice to her. It's a simple command I taught her long ago. The same command I'd teach a dog. Stay means stay put. Don't move, not even a finger. Don't speak, not a peep. Just stay as you are while I do whatever with you.

I reach my hands out to the front of Jill's shirt and start unbuttoning it. Since it's not my body, I'm not the least bit shy, so I don't hesitate. I work fairly quickly to unbutton it all the way down, pulling its tails out of her jeans as I do. I open the shirt, leaving the soft fabric hanging free.

It lets me see the undershirt she has on. That's simple cotton. It's slightly snug on her chest. Enough so that I can see the lines of her figure. And the lines of her bra underneath. I can see the mounds of her ample breasts swelling the front of it out, too.

I take hold of the bottom hem of the shirt and lift it up. This time I don't hurry. But I don't dally either. I just lift it up until it uncovers her bra. Then I leave it hanging around her upper chest, just above the tops of the bra's cups.

I see she's gone with cutesy-sexy for her underwear today. As if she thought, just maybe, after Hank told on her that he might undress her tonight. Her bra is white and silky. It has half-cups that cover a decent part of her breasts while leaving a little slice of them bare at the top and leaving a nice cleavage. It also firmly supports her mounds, pushing them up and together to maximize a cleavage that doesn't need maximizing. It has ½" wide, peach-colored straps with a delicate black lace trim over her shoulders. Straps that are far wider than the straps of the undershirt over them. It has cups that are decorated with bright lavender flowers. It has a bow of peach-colored fine ribbon between her mounds. It has a wide strap around her chest. And it has another strip of fine black lace along its bottom.

I leave Jill standing like that, her bra fully exposed, one shirt dangling open while the other snuggles high around her chest. I put my hands to the button of her jeans and unfasten them. Then I unzip them. I pull the little flaps wide open to reveal her panties underneath.

The panties perfectly match the bra. They're obviously a set. Good thing for Jill, since that is part of my dress code -- matching bra and panties, always, period. I figured they would be. Jill is well-off enough that it isn't an issue for her. She doesn't have to piece together her wardrobe.

Her panties have a modest, fairly large, triangle of fabric in the front. It's a triangle with fairly steep sides so as to leave every bit of her thighs bare. But it also rises up fairly high on her waist. Enough to fully cover her pubes. And the light bush I can see puffing the fabric out. What it doesn't seem to have are sides. Besides that triangle, all I see are the ½" wide peach straps with the black fringe circling around her hips. But that triangle is also decorated with more of those flowers. And it has the same black lace fringe to it.

As Jill stands still, I circle around behind her. With her jeans still pulled up and now slightly loose on her bottom, there's not much for me to see. I put my hands to the waistband of her jeans. I'll bet Jill expects me to pull her pants down. But I don't. Instead, I pull the waistband out, away from her body. It leaves me a decent-sized gap between the denim and Jill. A gap I can easily peek right down.

Now I can see that Jill definitely picked these panties in the hope that Hank would undress her. The narrow band circles all the way around her hips and across her back. At the very center, beneath the small of her back, I can see only a tiny triangle of the fabric. In about an inch it tapers into another narrow band of fabric that vanished into her crack. And that leaves her cheeks fully bared. I'm sure it has a swath of fabric to cover her pussy, but that's going to be minimalist as well. Definitely not everyday wear. Or workwear. These are "hot date" wear.

I slip my hand down the back of her jeans, letting my bare finger slowly glide down across her equally bare cheek. Once my hand is around the center of her cheek, I give the globe a gentle squish. Just enough for her to feel me playing with her bottom.

"Oh, this bottom has been so slutty and naughty!" I coo in a very teasingly sweet voice. "So naughty. I am going to have to spend some time properly disciplining it for your naughtiness."

My hands slowly inches towards the center of her bottom, until I find her crack. I slip my finger into her crack, using the tip of it to slowly stroke along the narrow band of fabric. Even through the thin panties, I know Jill can feel my finger teasing its way along the valley of her crack, all the way down until it has passed over her asshole to the swath of fabric atop her pussy before heading back up again.

"Oh, and clearly you need much closer supervision. If you were well behaved enough to be trusted on your own, you would have been diddling your slutty little skank pit last night like a naughty slut. I guess I'll just have to watch your slutty bottom myself for a while." I giggle. "Too bad you have to work. Even worse, for you, I don't care!" I giggle hard. "Patients or not, your naughty bottom will not be out of my sight for even a fraction of a second until you've learned your lesson and been punished. You'll just have to hope that I can play a convincing nursing student for a while." Now I laugh.

But Jill won't get the joke. I don't tell my toys much, if anything, about myself. I prefer them to simply know me as their Mistress. Not a friend. It doesn't matter what I do, or what my job is. I am Mistress. I own her. That's all she needs to know. So Jill doesn't know that I actually am a student nurse. Playing one will be child's play for me. I don't know what she thinks I do, either. The few toys who have ventured a guess usually peg me for a "trust-fund brat," but that's mostly because of my nice apartment. And my seemingly random availability to dominate at all, and at odd, times of the day. Times when most would be at work, like now. I doubt student with an academic scholarship is a common fantasy of theirs.

"I shouldn't have to remind you, but since you're such a delinquent slut, I will. You will behave that naughty bottom. Like a proper lady. Whatever your concerns are, I don't care! You should have thought of them before diddling that skank pit."

I take a second to squish her bottom again, just to remind her that I can, and will, demand access to even the most private parts of her body at my whim.

I slip my hand out of her jeans. Then I quickly tug those jeans down to the tops of her thighs, exposing every bit of her bottom. Her cheeks are nicely rounded, but modestly so. It's as if her thighs flow up and swell outward into a gently rounded globe that just as softly flows up to a flat back. Across, her cheeks have the same gentle rounding to them. They meet fully, making a deep crack, but barely touching as they do. But her cheeks are well rounded enough that it's a short crack, her cheeks curving away from each long before flowing into her waistline. And those cheeks are well-toned and firm. But covered with a milky white skin that as soft as silk. Taut and elastic, without a single blemish let alone a wrinkle or line, but also baby-soft. I so love spanking this bottom.

I use my hand to spank the closer cheek. It's not a hard spanking. I never spank too hard with my hand. That's what paddles are for -- to save my hand from the sting of it. But it's hard enough to leave a faint pink handprint on the light flesh. It's hard enough to land with a crack that must sound as loud as lightning to Jill.

And it's hard enough that Jill jumps as it lands. I hear a few nervous pants from her as she steadies herself. I imagine her praying that no one else heard the spank. It's a fairly unmistakable sound. I spank her other cheek. She jumps again, blurting out a muted, and very embarrassed, "OOH!" as it slaps her bottom.

I step back around to face Jill. I put my hand underneath her jaw, and nudge her head around so that she's looking slightly downward and right into my eyes. "Since this is your second slutty offense, slut, you are in for a very hard punishment."

My free hand slips into the front of her jeans, the tips of my fingers teasing over the fabric atop her pubes. "It will require some time for you to fully understand the skankiness of your naughtiness." I allow a single finger to slip down further. I stroke that fingertip along the tiny swath f fabric covering her pussy mound, roughly atop her slit. Jill's eyes tell me that she feels it. That I have her undivided attention now. And that she's getting hotter than fire.

I suspected she would. Jill is the kind of toy who likes to be pushed beyond her comfort zone. The further beyond she's made to go, the hotter she gets. Light pain excites her as well. As does humiliation, at least if it's done safely where her life won't be ruined by it.

But nothing excites her like medical kinds of things do. I mean things like enemas, which I've found that she utterly despises while they unbearably excite her. I mean simple things, too, like having her temperature taken. I've seen it. It's far too obvious. But so far I haven't done anything to her that would indicate that I have any medical knowledge.

I suspect the fetish is from her being a doctor. All day, most every day, she's doing these same things to her patients. Sometimes unpleasant things. It must strike some chord in her when she's pushed to submissively allow those very same things to be done to her. More so when her modesty is not accommodated as they are.

And now I have a full doctor's office of "toys" to play with. Jill's own office. The one place she never expected to be anything but the doctor ruling over it. Her very own "toys," the same ones she uses on her patients. And I intend to use them on her. I would bet my entire bank account that within an hour or two, Jill will be so hot that she can't stand it. That she will be struggling every second not to let it show just how hot she is. That should make an excellent lesson for her.

"Now it's time for you to start seeing your adorable little patients. I'll just have to make time in between to teach you to behave. I suggest you mind your manners, slut."

I step back from Jill. "Hurry up and fix those clothes, unless you want even that toddler waiting for you to see what a slut you really are."

Jill blushes to a very bright pinkness. She also scrambles to pull the undershirt back down and cover her bra. Then to button her shirt back up. And fix her jeans. In well under a minute Jill is ready for the day.

I don't give her any time to think about what I just sentenced her to. Instead, I take hold of her hand, gripping it firmly, and lead her to the door. I unlock it for her. Then I almost have to drag her out into the hall, telling her "let's go see our first patient!" Before we get to the exam room, I release Jill's hand. But I don't stray from her side. I stick right beside her and follow her into the room where her patient, and her regular nurse, are waiting.

Jill starts sputtering, her eyes nervously darting all over the place when she realizes that her nurse is seeing her. Worse, seeing me. I decide to save Jill again and introduce myself to her nurse, a 30-ish woman named Hannah. She greets me warmly, laughing as she remembers the times she had to shadow a doctor.

I stay quiet, as a student should, and let Hannah brief Jill on the patient. For this first patient, I plan to stay off to the side, watching Jill as I pretend to be watching her doctoring. As the day goes on, Jill is going to be getting it worse and worse and she really can't stand it.

Chapter 03: How Hot Are You, Slut?

Jill's first patient is the toddler I saw in the waiting room. When Jill and I enter the exam room, he's sitting on his mother's lap. I'd guess he's between one and two. He was walking, but not exactly steadily when I saw him. His mother tells Jill that she worried about him because he has a tiny cough and maybe a fever. Mom is fairly young, maybe in her mid-20s, so I guess this is her first child. And she's likely worrying over nothing.

Jill has the nurse take his temperature, then she listens to his chest and pronounces that he's fine. Maybe a touch of a cold, but nothing Tylenol won't sure. Mom is relieved. She takes her son out of the exam room. Hannah tells Jill that the next patient is ready in room one.

I quietly tell Hannah to give Jill a couple of minutes. I feign eagerness and ask Jill to explain everything to me. Hannah smirks and tells us that Jill has a light day, so take a minute. Then she steps out before Jill gets more than a few words out. Perfect.

I click the lock on the exam room door. Then I hold a finger up to Jill's lips to silence her. Immediately the nervousness floods onto her face again. Jill's exam had been fairly perfunctory, but that's because this kid wasn't sick. He wasn't even running a fever.

Hannah used an infrared thermometer on the boy. One the ones where you just aim, slick and the temperature reads out. I open one of the drawers in the room and take out an old-fashioned rectal thermometer. I hold it up, letting Jill see it, as I slowly slip a plastic sheath over it. Just as I would if I were going to use it. I'm sure this hasn't been the preferred method of pediatricians for about 50 years now. But it's mine!

"Your turn," I say so teasingly soft and sweet to Jill. And I grin from ear to ear as I hold the thermometer up. I set it down for a moment to find myself a pair of latex gloves, which I quickly pull on.

"Come over here, slut." I'm standing beside the exam table. It's regular-sized, not smaller or baby-sized. The very same exam table the boy was just on. I crook a finger, encouraging Jill to come over to me.

Jill walks hesitantly, her steps slow. As if she still doesn't believe this is happening to her. I just tap my foot and wait on her. Sooner or later she'll figure out that she wants to hurry. It won't tie her up as long.

Once she's here, I firmly tell her to "be a good slut patient" and lie on the table, on her stomach. She starts moving even more reluctantly. I swat her bottom, through her jeans, with my hand. She flinches hard at the light swat. She almost jumps up onto the table, too.

I have her lie face down. I have her put her feet almost together, about like they would be if she were standing naturally. At first, Jill tries to prop herself up on her elbows. I don't allow it. I have her fold her arms and lie her head on them. She does, her head turned to where she's looking at the door. It's also the direction that gives her a view of me and what I'm doing. I don't allow that either. I have her turn her head the other way. That leaves her staring at the wall beside the table.

"Now you just be a good slut-patient for Nurse Rodgers..." I teasingly coo to Jill. "Lie still while I take your temperature so we can see how hot you are."

I slip my hands under Jill's waist, sliding them between her body and the softly padded table underneath. I've gotten good at this. It doesn't take me but a couple of seconds to get those jeans unbuttoned and unzipped again. Then I slip my hands out from under Jill.

I put my hands low on her hips, almost at the table, hooking the waistband of the jeans with my thumb. They're still snug enough that with her lying on them I have to wiggle them a little as I scoot them down. It slowly bares her cheeks again. It takes me about ten seconds to get them down to her thighs, to where I have about an inch of thigh bare beneath her bottom.

Then I slip her panties down the same way. Those go easily, but there's not much of them.

I put the tiniest dollop of lubricating jelly atop the shaft of the thermometer. Like any rectal thermometer, this one is slightly thicker than the common ones sold at CVS. But still not even as thick as a pencil.

I use my left hand to firmly ease Jill's toned cheeks apart, spreading her crack open.

By now Jill is fidgeting slightly as she tries to lie still. I can hear the faint mewling sounds she's making, too. I suspect that's all over her anxiety at getting caught, not at having her temperature taken.

Now I have a good view of Jill's asshole. Hers is one of the lightest ones I've seen. It's a very light shade of pink, with no purple or brown to it. It's small, too. And it's completely flat with the valley of her crack. I can't see even the lines of the ring of muscle. It's just a nickel-sized, irregular-shaped, swath of light pinkness at the valley of her crack. It has a few light wrinkles around it, all of them flowing inward to the center of the pinkness. To the almost straight, and short, little line formed where two slices of pink flesh press tightly against each other. A line, not a hole. Not even a pinpoint. Just a straight line about as long as this thermometer is thick.