Dr. Slut's Office

Jill moans a deep "UM!" as it stretches her unwilling muscle. Then the widest part of it vanishes into her pink ring. Quickly her tense muscle pulls the collector forward a bit, allowing her asshole to cinch down around the pencil-thin shaft. "UH!" Jill breathes out, now that the worst of the stretching is done. Not that it actually hurt her at all. It wasn't nearly big enough for that. Just enough to make sure she felt it. And make sure that she knew it was slipping into her butt.

I stop the collector once I feel the resistance from her tensed asshole ebb. That tells me the head of it now just beyond the thick ring of muscle. That puts it at the very bottom of her rectum. Jill definitely can feel where it is, although it won't be hurting her at all now.

"Hmm... is this deep enough, slut? Is this where you'd take a stool sample if you wanted a really good one?" I teasingly ask Jill. I already know the answer. It's not. Stool samples are usually taken from the back of the rectum. The very depths of her bowels. It's the freshest specimen. It's also the place where Jill least wants me to go.

"No, Ma'am..." Jill answers in her muted, shamed voice. Only now her voice breaks anxiously and unhappily. "You should get it from the back of my butt, Ma'am."

I start the collector slipping forward again, moving it about two more inches into Jill's bottom. Jill moans a rather squealy "UM!" as it moves into her. I see her fingers gripping each other tightly as well. And I see her muscles, the ones I can see with her clothes mostly on, tensing up. I stop moving it again and hold it still.

"Ah!" Jill breathes out a heavy sigh of relief as it stops moving. I know she's exaggerating. It doesn't hurt. But she definitely feels the hard plastic tip as it slides along the inside of her rectum. And she knows that it's slipping deeper into her bottom. It might not hurt, but I also know that Jill absolutely does not want this in her bottom. The deeper it is, the more of a violation it is. And the more unwelcome it is.

"Is this where you want me to get the sample, slut? Or do you want me to go even deeper into your rectum and get a better sample?" I ask.

Jill's voice takes on a light, shamed, sobbing note. Otherwise, it's the same muted and embarrassed voice, only now full of unhappiness as well. "Will you please go deeper, Ma'am? Please, Ma'am, I want you to get the very best sample. Will you please go all the way to the back of my rectum, Ma'am?" It sounds like it kills Jill just to ask me. I love it.

I start the collector moving again, inching it as slowly as I can make it move into Jill's bottom. Instantly Jill is grunting a very strained "UMM!" through gritted teeth. She tenses back up just as quickly.

I slip it a couple of more inches into her bottom. I'm guessing at where the tip of it is now. It should be close to the back of her rectum, but not there yet. But that's a guess based on experience. It's not like I can see up her butt and see where it is.

I stop pushing it into her bottom. But I don't quite stop moving it. Instead of letting it slide in, I wiggle the tip in place. It's a tiny wiggle, just enough for Jill to feel it stroking over the nerves lining her rectum and know just how deeply it's inside her bottom.

Jill doesn't relax this time. She stays stiff. And she moans a long-drawn-out "OOH!" that soft, but very strained. "Is it at the back of your rectum now, slut?"

"No, Ma'am..." Jill reluctantly admits.

"Do you want me to put it deeper into your butt before I take your sample, slut?"

I know Jill wants it out of her bottom, not deeper. But I also know that Jill understands her place. It doesn't matter what she wants. What matters is that I've decreed we're going to get the best sample. It doesn't matter how comfortable that is for Jill. I'm just making her talk, and ask, to make her squirm even more as she submits to it.

"Yes, Ma'am..." Jill's voice quiets a few more decibels and turns very squealy, into her "little girl" voice. She sounds almost like a toddler. "Will you please go all the way to the back of my rectum, Ma'am?"

I know I'm getting close to the back now, so I know this is going to be the last pause. I take a second to stretch Jill's mental discomfort out. "All the way to the very back, slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am, please go all the way to the very back of my rectum, Ma'am..." Jill answers. "You'll feel some resistance when you get there, Ma'am. Please! Please, don't press too hard. It will be very uncomfortable for me. Please, Miss Rodgers, please, just be very quick and get my sample, Ma'am." Jill tries to add in a little plea for a tiny mercy.

I slip the collector forward. It slides about another inch into Jill's bottom before I feel the light resistance as its tip presses against the membrane-like back of her rectum. As soon as I feel the resistance, I hear Jill suck in a sharp, pained breath and stiffen up. Her muscles tense to steel.

It's hurting Jill, but not badly. Not even as bad as a needle stick. But she definitely feels the sharp, cramping pressure as the tip presses firmly into the back of her insides. It's her body's way of letting her know that something is deeper inside her than should be, and she needs to get it out of her. As if her bowels are way over-full.

"Ooh, this feels like the back of your rectum," I say to Jill, holding the collector still and keeping the gentle pressure against her insides. "Is this the dirtiest part of your rectum, slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am..." Jill blurts out in a pained voice. "Please take my sample now, Miss Rodgers. Quickly, Ma'am." Jill grunts a rapid chorus of "OW!" over and over again.

Since Jill misbehaved by sneaking in a plea for mercy, again, she won't be getting that mercy. "Am I going to find any icky man-filth in your stool, slut?"

"No, Ma'am!" Jill blurts out, her voice now taking a desperate note to it. "Please take my sample now, Ma'am, I promise you won't find any semen in my poop, Ma'am! I swear I haven't had anal sex since you made me, Ma'am!" Her modesty now takes a backseat to her desire to get this over with.

I twist the collector around five times. It's four more than I need to twist it. That spins the needle-eye head of it, lightly scraping it against the sides of her rectum and filling the opening with a sample.

Jill cries out a normal-volume-level "UH-MM" as it starts twisting inside her depths. It's a far louder cry than she would like to make. It shows how hard she's trying to mute it, but more failing than succeeding. But it's not loud enough for the nurses to hear her. Which is all I care about. About halfway through the "collection" Jill suddenly cries out "OW!..AH!-OW!" it's a little louder than her earlier cry, but still not enough to draw attention to this room. She tensed up rock-solid as well. Her legs, from the knees down, and her shoulders squirm pretty hard, too. But she fights to keep her bottom still, knowing that moving it will just make this more uncomfortable for her.

I stop twirling the collector but hold it in place, still pressing into the back of her rectum. While Jill lies there feeling the cramping, light stabs of pain, I ask her "There, is that a good sample, slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am..." Jill quickly answers, her voice urgently begging me to stop teasing her and take it back out of her. "Thank you very much for going all the way to the very back of my rectum to get my sample, Ma'am."

"You're welcome, slut." I tell her, drawing her discomfort out a hair longer. Then I start inching the collector back out of Jill's bottom.

Jill breathes out a very deep and heavy sigh of relief as the pressure vanishes from the back of her rectum. After a second or so I feel the tension begin to flow from her muscles, too. She chants a very soft chorus of "Ooh!s" as she feels the slight drag of the plastic as it slips through the tense ring of her asshole.

Jill groans out a more pleading "OH!" as most of the collector is out of her. It's the point where Jill feels the widening tip of the collector pressing against the inside of her ring, ready to stretch it again as it slips through to exit her bottom. She gasps out a squealy "AH!" as it stretches her muscle again. Then she breathes the deepest sigh of relief as it slips from her body.

I set the collector, sample in its head, on the table just behind Jill's thighs and under her bottom. "There, now we have a good stool sample to send to the lab. I'm sure they can check it for skank-itis." I teasingly tell Jill. As I do, I use the second wipe to clean her asshole again, wiping away any mess that the collector might have smeared along on its way out of her.

Chapter 09: Potty Break

Jill lies on the table, panting soft, mewling, whiny "Ooh!s" as she waits for me to fix her clothes and let her up now that her "tease of the patient" is over. I just take my time, lingering as I toss the trash and move the collector over to the counter, careful to keep it full. While I'm over there, I get the little plastic eye paddle out of the cabinet.

Then I step back over to Jill, standing just beside her bare hips. "Oh, and that was three patients, so this is... punishment time!" I tell her in a soft voice full of excitement. "Even if you are suffering from a hideous case of skank-itis, you're a big slut now, Jill. You can just run around acting like a total gutter whore! You have to behave your naughty little slutty bottom."

I put my hand to Jill's cheek and caress it softly. Now that I have my gloves in the trash, I can feel the silkiness of her skin. I love a good bottom, and Jill's is a good one. Skin silky and soft, feminine, but also like a baby's bottom. And underneath that softness is a firm, slightly spongy, and very squishable, muscle.

"You'll get ten more strokes on each cheek. This will part two of the punishment for diddling your slutty skank pit last night, slut Jill."

"Yes, Ma'am..." Jill accepts, her voice muted, edgy, and reluctant.

I doubt Jill expects it. I take my hand from her cheek, and quickly like the head of the paddle squarely in the center of her cheeks. To date, Jill has been spanked only two ways. Once I had her bent over and braced against a wall. The other times I had her turned over my knees. That's my preferred way to spank. But now Jill is still in place on the exam table, lying on her side. With her knees up, it has her bottom pulled taut in the same position as if she were over my knees. But it deprives her of the support my knees provide. Her chest isn't lying firmly over my thighs. My thighs aren't supporting it. Her knees aren't braced on the floor. She doesn't even have the floor to rest her feet on. The table supports her, obviously. But it doesn't offer her the support my legs do. The support that she relies on to keep herself still as she's spanked. It's relatively easy to just lie there, letting me hold her body up.

Now Jill is going to have to stay still with nothing to resist her body if her muscles try to move. That has her nervous. She knows the price of disobedience, of moving during a spanking. It's a high price. I start the spanking over again. And again, until she lies still and accepts her punishment properly.

I'm sure she knows that her cheeks are going to feel this spanking a little worse than the first one, too. They might have stopped stinging her by now, it has been about 45 minutes, but that doesn't mean her flesh isn't still "tenderized" from it. It just means that the irritation to her nerves has faded enough that those nerves are no longer sending her the pain signal to encourage her to do something about it. But with the first slap of the paddle, the sting will slice into those still-irritated nerves, and they'll let her know it. It will be as if her bottom has already had two or three strokes. The first might well feel like a fourth on those cheeks. By the tenth, it will definitely feel like the thirteenth or so.

This isn't exactly the easiest way to swing a paddle. Maybe it would be easier with a larger paddle. Definitely with a whip. But I'm using this little paddle on her. I have to step up beside her shoulders to swing it. I try to use the same power I used last time. I intend to make every stroke she gets today the same. Even if it turns out to be 100 strokes, they won't get any lighter. Or easier on her bottom.

It lands with the same slapping crack against her globe. It leaves the same little pink splotch on her white cheek.

"OW!" Jill squeals out as it lands on her bottom. She tenses up hard, then relaxes, so fast that it looks as if a hard shudder has swept over her body. "Ow!...Ow!" Jill chants a few times, already sniffling lightly from the spank.

"One, Ma'am. I'm sorry for being a total slut and diddling my skank pit without permission, Ma'am. Thank you for not letting me get away with acting like a whore and spanking my naughty bottom, Ma'am." Jill counts of her stroke in her little-girl's voice.

I swat her other cheek, getting another squeal from Jill. She again counts it as stroke number one.

Ten strokes later, Jill's bottom is tanned to a bright pink now. I know that it's stinging her like a thousand needle stabbing into it. But I did show her the mercy of avoiding the little Big Bird band-aid where I stuck her with the needle earlier. It's why I put the needle so low on her cheek. So I could avoid it while still turning those cheeks fully pink.

Jill struggled hard not to move. She came close to getting to start over, too. She flinched and shuddered hard with every stroke. By the third, her feet were moving with every flinch. But they stayed together, so I let her get away with it.

But this time I've gotten a couple of little tears to roll from Jill's eyes. With her on her side, and her head sideways as well, the tears rolled not down her cheeks, but out of the corners of her eyes. One along her nose. Then both rained down to the table underneath. But it was enough to leave faint lines in her makeup where they ran. Lines that could be noticed. And it leaves her eyes wet.

It leaves her almost crying as well. Sniffling as she sobs, but not yet bawling.

I pull her panties up first. I know Jill would take good care to avoid the panties, even just the delicate waistband of them, from touching her sore globes if she were dressing herself. I don't. Nor do I try to make it unpleasant. I just pull them up, letting the fine waistband slide over her stinging cheeks on its way up. As if I'm doing a chore and don't care one way or the other how comfortable it is for Jill.

I do her jeans the same, all-business-like way. Only the denim is rougher than the satin of her panties was. As it slides coarsely over her globes, Jill squeals out a pained "OW!" and she shudders lightly. Once the jeans are up and covering her bottom, Jill pants a few hard breaths as I reach around her waist and fasten them. Then I tuck her shirt in.

"Sit up, slut Jill." I give the command in a very stern voice, leaving Jill no doubt that she's going to sit on her stinging bottom. But I don't raise my voice to her. I just give a firm command.

Jill very slowly obeys it. She rolls over to her right side, keeping her bottom off the table as she turns over. Then she swings her legs over the side, lifting her shoulders up. Now she braces her hands against the table close at her sides, using them to hold her body, and her butt, off the table. She slowly and gently lowers her bottom onto the table, wincing hard and sucking a pained sharp breath as she does. Finally, she puts those hands behind her back and waits.

I have her hold her hands out in front of her, palms upturned and flat as a little tray. She keeps her eyes forward, but she does try to watch me out of the corner of her moist eyes, hoping for a second's warning of whatever I'm doing to her. I grab the collector off the counter.

I casually drop it on her hands, making sure that the full head of it lands on her hand, not hanging over the end. I see her face wrinkles slightly in disgust as she sees what I've put in her hands. She flinches slightly but stays put. I pause for several seconds.

"Go on, slut. Examine that sample and see if your poop has any man-filth in it. Or anything else. Considering the gutter your slutty bottom was scraped out of, I wouldn't be surprised to see worms!"

Jill barely glances down. She doesn't have to. She knows that she hasn't had anal sex in weeks. There won't be any evidence of it in the sample. "My stool sample is fine, Ma'am. I don't see any semen, worms, or anything else in it, Ma'am." Jill answers softly. The collector is still lying across her flat hands. She never touched it, just glanced at it.

My goal is to humiliate Jill. And to make her uncomfortable. That's part of her punishment. A part that arouses her more than it bothers her. I'm good at humiliating subs. I'm just taking my time with Jill, slowly inching up the humiliation as the day goes along.

"You lazy slut!" I don't raise my voice, but I use my harshest tone to scold Jill. "I said get a good look. You barely glanced. Now really examine your sample, slut." I glare hard at Jill.

She gets the message. She takes the collector in one hand and brings it up closer to her eyes. She turns it, seeing both sides of the head. She spends about fifteen seconds just looking at it, although I'm sure she's not really seeing any of it. Who'd want to see that? "My stool sample is fine, Ma'am. There isn't a speck of semen or anything else in it. No evidence of skanky gutter worm either, Ma'am." She moves the collector as far from her eyes as she thinks I'll allow her to get away with.

I scold her again, just as harshly. "I said a good examination, slut. It's not like poop should be new to you! I'm sure whatever gutter you were whelped in was full of it." I grab Jill's wrist and move it, bringing the head of the collector up until it's about an inch from her eye. I twirl it, showing her both sides of the head and the waste in it. I take about half of a minute to show it to her.

Then I jerk her wrist firmly, moving the head of the collector down and pushing it up under her nose. I snap firmly for her to get a good whiff of it. I hold it still for about ten seconds, forcing Jill to smell her waste.

I jerk her wrist again, this time hard enough to bring her hand out in front of her. I take hold of Jill's other hand and bring it up. Then I snap her wrist, tapping the head of the collector firmly again her open hand. As I'd hoped for, it knocks the sample out of the collector and into the palm of Jill's hand.

Jill's hand flinches hard, wanting to pull away from the sticky waste dropping into it. But I hold her wrist, keeping her hand in place. Once it's in her hand, I release the wrist of the hand holding the collector long enough to pull the now-empty plastic tool from her grip. I idly toss that into a trash can beside the table. Then I grab her hand with mine.

Jill's hand is stiff and tense. As it unconsciously resists me, I force her hand to open and extend her first two fingers. I shift my grip, now taking hold of those fingers where they meet her hand. I hold them stiff. I pull them towards her other hand, feeling her arm tensing harder with every inch as it nears.

Jill doesn't fully resist. I have to work to pull her fingers along, but not as hard as she could make me. I pull her fingers to her palm, putting the pads of her two fingers right into the gooey gob in her palm and pressing them firmly into the mess.

"EW!" Jill moans out, her face and nose wrinkling up as she touches it. She averts her eyes, but keeps her head still and looking forward.

I keep hold of her hand. I rub her fingers around in the mess, smearing it into her palm. Then I tug her hand up, putting her palm close in front of her eyes so she can see the mess smeared onto it. I don't scold her to get a good look. I don't want to warn her. I just hold her hand still for several long seconds.