Dr. Slut's Office

I release her hand. She quickly moves it away from her eyes, and down as far as she can move it. I scold her for not putting her hands behind her back. She does it. But this time she doesn't grip one hand with the other. Instead, she lightly strains her arms to hold them in place while making certain that her messy hands touch nothing.

"Describe the sample, slut. Show me that you actually looked at it and aren't lying to cover up how disobedient you've been." I tell her firmly.

I see a horrified, and disgusted, look on her face. Surprise, too. She tries hard to describe it, noting it's light brown color, the creamy soft texture of it, and even the tiny piece of undigested corn in it. I ask her if she considers that to be normal and healthy, and she says yes. I ask her to describe its scent, and she tries hard. She deems it "offensive, with a slight sweet tinge to it, but mostly like an open sewer." I'll give her that one. She also deems it a fairly average aroma, neither weak nor particularly strong.

I ask her to describe it's feel. She deems it soft and pasty, with tiny bits of roughness. I guess that's good enough. She adds that it's still warm, too. Yuck.

I tell her to get off the table. She does, careful not to touch anything as she moves.

I ask her what she normally does during this break. She says she doesn't have a routine, but coffee is a possibility. Then she tells me that she "has to use the bathroom." And that's something she uses these little breaks to take care of.

"Then you may ask to be taken, slut." I tell her smiling at her.

Jill grimaces back at me. In her quietest, most shamed, little-girl's voice, she asks. "Miss Rodgers, I have to pee. Would you please take me potty, Ma'am?" She knew how to ask. As degradingly as possible. I've made her ask for this privilege before.

"Come along, slut." I tell her. Only now I do not take her by the hand. No way am I touching those hands! As I open the door, I see Jill balling up her fists behind her back. She knows that she has to keep her hands behind her. But she definitely doesn't want anyone to see what's smeared on her hands.

I decide not to be nice. It's my preferred level of niceness. We're in the last exam room, closest to the back hall where the staff bathroom is. There's little chance of anyone being back this far. So I firmly scold Jill to open her hands back up. She knows better than to make fists. She very reluctantly opens her hands, turning them so that the messy palms are towards her body and keeping a good inch of space between them and herself.

The walk back to the bathroom is uneventful. The bathroom is fairly small, about like you'd find in a fast-food restaurant. There are no stalls. Just a square room with a toilet and sink. But it's nicely decorated. I tell Jill to start by washing her hands, lest she "skanks up her skank pit any further." It's not like she could undo her pants with her hands messy. Not without messing up those jeans, she has to wear for the rest of the day.

At first, Jill is eager and grateful to wash her hands. Then the sound of the running water has its effect on her. I watch as she squeezes her legs tightly together. Then she lets out a pair of little mewls as she hurries to wash the mess from her hands. Once she's done, she quickly dries her hands and turns to stand facing me. Her thighs remain squished tightly together.

Jill has already had a little "toilet training" at my apartment. There I have a defined routine for allowing her to use the toilet. A routine Jill has to follow carefully or face consequences. But this is the first time I've taken Jill to the toilet anywhere but my apartment. She waits for her instructions.

"You know how good little sluts go potty, slut. Undress." I tell her in that tauntingly too-sweet voice of mine.

It's the same thing I'd make Jill do at my place. Undress fully to use the toilet. But here it just wastes some of the little time Jill has. She hurries to squat down and take her shoes off. She almost just scoots them off to the side, now overly-needy to use that toilet. But she thinks better of it. She tucks the laces in neatly, squares them up, and starts a neat pile in the corner, on the floor.

Jill stands back up and takes her blouse off. She folds that neatly and sets it atop her shoes on the pile. Then she takes her undershirt off and adds that to the pile. Then her bra. That's not the easiest thing to fold neatly, so it takes her a few seconds to get it right.

This is what she was told to do. In my realm, "undress" is a very specific command. I've taught it to Jill, as I do all of my subs. It tells her not just to get her clothes off, but to take things off in a specific order. From the top down, once her shoes are off. Those shoes just get in the way. It's also not the way a woman would normally undress. Most women prefer to leave their bra and panties for last. But moving from the top down, Jill now has her bra off, her chest bare, her soft breasts standing out for me, and her jeans still buttoned up.

Next, the jeans come off. Then her panties. It leaves only two things on her body. Her socks and a watch. The watch, around her wrist, was lower than the high waistband of her panties. But it's far above those socks. So it has to come off next. Finally, her socks take their place on the very top of the pile. Now there's absolutely nothing on her body. When I say naked, that's what I mean. As naked as the day before she was born. If she'd been wearing any jewelry, that would have come off as she worked downward. Even piercings have to come out. I mean naked.

Now that Jill is naked she doesn't have any choice in anything. She stands up and faces me. She puts her hands behind her back. As much as she wants to keep those legs tightly together, or better yet crossed, she opens her feet about six inches. She looks directly at me. "Miss Rodgers, I am fully nude now, Ma'am. May I please have permission to go pee now, Ma'am?"

"Sit," I tell her.

Jill quickly sits down on the seat of the toilet. She opens her knees as wide as she can and positions her feet flat on the floor directly under those knees. It has her shins straight and vertical. Jill stretches her back, sitting up straight. She stares forward, seeing nothing but the empty wall across from the toilet. She leaves her hands behind her back, her palms flat against the skin of her back and the backs of her hands flat against the lid of the toilet. It's the only place she's allowed to touch the lid. It leaves a space, just under an inch, between her back and the lid. A space that lets me see down all the way to the dimple at the top of her crack.

"Miss Rodgers, will you please tell me to pee whenever you are ready to watch me so that I pee properly, Ma'am?" Jill asks in a very embarrassed voice.

I stare at Jill's body for a couple of seconds, letting her see my eyes looking over her breasts before they work their way down to her bush. With her legs spread wide, I can see under her bush. I can see the top of the furry mound of her pussy. I fix my eyes there. "Pee now, slut."

"Yes, Ma'am, I will pee right now, Ma'am. Please watch my pussy closely while I pee, Ma'am." Jill answers. The line is pretty scripted. Then she pees. It's a hard, long stream that tells me she really had to go.

I watch her closely, seeing exactly what she's doing, but also standing back far enough that I can see the rest of her naked body as well. I don't really want to see it. I want Jill to see me watching her. To know that I am seeing everything that she's doing. To know that this bit of privacy has been so fully stripped away from her.

"Thank you for supervising me while I peed, Ma'am. My bladder is empty now, Ma'am." Jill tells me once she stops peeing.

I pause for a couple of seconds, then tell Jill to stand up. I have her bend over, resting her forearms on the seat of the toilet her bottom just vacated. With her feet fairly wide apart. It gives me a view of her pussy. It shows me that the fur atop her mound is already moist and matted with her creamy honey.

I pull off a short piece of tissue, ball it up and hand it to her. She takes it and waits.

"Miss Rodgers, I know a slut like me can't be trusted to touch her pussy, Ma'am. Will you please watch me wipe my pussy, Ma'am, and keep me from touching myself like a whore, Ma'am?" Jill waits.

I sigh deeply as if this is an unwelcome burden for me. "Wipe that skank pit, slut."

Jill, standing with her pussy on full display for my eyes, wipes herself. Then she drops the tissue into the toilet under her. And she waits. She's to do nothing without being told to.

Jill has long, wide lips that meet fully into a fine line of a slit. I grab hold of those lips, feeling the modest, but noticeable, plumpness to them, and casually pull them wide apart to display her pinkness to me. Mostly what I see is the rather liberal layer of her creamy honey coating everything.

"I guess that's clean enough, slut." Officially it's a "post-potty hygiene inspection." An inspection to show me that she's wiped herself properly. It's just another humiliation for her. I release her lips.

"Thank you for caring and checking my pussy for me, Ma'am." Jill thanks me.

I tell to Jill to stand. She rises up and quickly turns to face me. I tell her to flush. She has to turn her side to me to reach, which she does quickly, then turns to stand waiting and facing me again.

I tell Jill to dress. I watch her closely, making a point for her to see that I'm watching her, as she dresses in the exact reverse order that she undressed in.

She picks up her socks from the pile and holds them atop upturned palms. "These are my socks, Ma'am, may I please have permission to put them on my feet, Ma'am?" She humbly asks. I grant it and she squats down to pull them on quickly. She has to repeat, showing me the item and asking permission to put it on before she can. And she knows that I may not grant her permission for every item. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It depends on my mood. I might well send her along without something, like her bra or panties. But what really has her nervous is that should I deny her permission, the item starts a fresh pile beside her pile of clothes. And there it stays until I give her permission, whenever that might be. She might well be leaving this room with her neatly folded underwear in a pile on the floor.

But she doesn't. I allow her to fully dress. For now.

Then I take her by the hand telling her she has time to get me another cup of coffee before her patient. I have her fetch it, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. And I deny her a cup.

Chapter 10: Chest Pain

Jill's next patient is a teenage boy with a minor pain in his chest. From eavesdropping on the conversation between Jill and his mom, I gather he hasn't been the healthiest of boys. Thus, maybe mom's concern over the minor pain is warranted. Jill decides that it's probably nothing. His chest, and everything in it, seems to be fine. She sends him home, telling them if it doesn't go away in a couple of days to come back and she'll run a bunch of tests. Tests her insurance company is certain to argue loudly about. Then again, it seems to me that insurance companies argue about everything except cashing those premium checks.

After her last tease, Jill now watches me with unbridled trepidation in her eyes as I lock the door. As if she knows that I intend to tease her, regardless of the exam the patient got.

Since he had his chest examined, I tell Jill that her chest "will be very closely examined" this time. I will be "diligently testing for the subtler signs of skank-itis." while I'm mostly taunting her, it's enough of a warning for her that she's in for a good teasing this time around. It is the third time I've toyed with those sweet and spongy soft mounds.

I tell Jill that she's to undress to the waist again. I add an instruction that Jill is not to touch her breasts as she undresses, not even a tiny glancing brush. Then I glare hard at Jill, making it plain how closely I am watching her, as she undresses and folds her clothes into for about the tenth time today.

Jill averts her eyes uselessly. She can't turn them far enough away not to see me staring at her. She undresses quickly, knowing that we only have a few minutes before the nurses will be looking for her. She also undresses very carefully. She diligently avoids touching her breasts, even pulling the front of her blouse away from her body as she unbuttons it.

Once her chest is naked, she stands and waits. Just as she did with her patient, I have Jill come over and sit on the exam table, her feet dangling off the side. I stand facing her. "Have you been feeling anything in those slutty breasts, slut?"

"No, Ma'am, I haven't felt anything in my slutty breasts, Ma'am," Jill answers quickly.

I put my hand to her left mound, caressing it softly and slowly as I slip my hand around to cradle its underside. I heft the mound, lifting it off her chest until the crease is gone. I hold it still. "You wouldn't be fibbing, would you slut?" I switch into a very firm but also taunting, voice to ask her. "Because right now I can see a very hard nipple on this breast, slut. That is usually accompanied by a slight tenderness that aches for a man's masculine touch. You don't feel that little ache, slut?"

Jill's head starts to drop. She catches herself and snaps it back up as her eyes shift down. With her eyes still downcast she answers in her little girl's voice, muted, and shamed, and now with the note of having been caught. "Yes, Ma'am... my slutty breasts do ache for a manly touch, Ma'am... especially my shamelessly hard nipples, Ma'am."

"Do they ache so badly that you want to touch them like a skanky gutter whore?"

"Yes, Ma'am... if I could I would be touching my slutty breasts like a skanky gutter whore right now, Ma'am."

"Would that feel good, slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am, it would feel very good if I were allowed to play with my slutty breasts now, Ma'am." Jill reluctantly admits. And by now, I'll bet she's thinking that I'm going to make her play with them.

I'm not. She'd like that too much. And what really arouses her are the things she doesn't like. "You lied to me, slut." I snap, not raising my voice, but in a harsh tone. "You told me you didn't feel anything in those flabby breasts!"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am!" Jill blurts out desperately. She's been around long enough to know that lying is a serious offense. There will be a rather stern punishment for it. And here, in her office, with her life and her day going on just beyond that thin door, punishment is something Jill desperately wants to avoid. It tends to be bad, and thus make her get noisy. Which would bring the nurses. And give away her secret life.

I slap her face. Not too hard. And I'm careful not to smear her makeup. "Bad slut!" I scold her. Jill needs to be reminded of her place. The very lowest, at the bottom. She's only allowed to speak to answer a question. And I didn't ask a question. I stated a fact. Jill says nothing, taking the scolding in obedient silence.

I step off to the side and root through her drawers again. I find what I'm looking for. Every doctor's office has plenty. I come out of that drawer with two latex elastic bands. Then ones they wrap around your arm to pop veins up before taking blood. I hold them up to let Jill see them. She knows what they are. And now she's wondering what I have in mind. What I'm going to do to her.

I set one band on the table beside Jill. Then I gently reach my hand out and heft her breast again. "Since you want to be a naughty lying slut, and lie about these flabby breasts, you will need a good lesson in why honesty is very important in the doctor's office. I think... a little bondage will remind you how important breasts are."

Jill's face scrunches up tight, wrinkling up in horror at the idea. At the same time, her eyes go wide in shock. Jill's breasts have always been fairly sensitive. But so far, they've never been bound. She knows they're sensitive. She knows she's really going to feel it. But she doesn't know what she's going to feel. Just that, since I've deemed it a punishment, it's going to hurt. The not knowing makes the anticipation that much worse for her. And that gets her squirming as she fidgets very nervously. Enough so that her fidgeting has got her free breast jiggling decently, and the breast in my hand wiggling slightly.

"Ask me for your lesson, slut," I tell her in my firmest voice while looking her right in her eyes. It's an attitude that I hope tells Jill that not only is that an order but that I'm not in a patient mood now.

"Miss Rodgers, I'm so sorry for lying to you about feeling an ache in my slutty breasts, Ma'am. Will you please teach me a very good lesson about lying in the doctor's office, Ma'am? Will you please bind my breast for me, Ma'am?" Jill's asks in her little girl's voice, hushed, and breaking with a sobbing nervousness.

I take the band and wrap it around the base of her breast, flush against her chest. I don't pull it tight yet, just wrap it around the mound slowly. Then, just as slowly, I start pulling it tight. It only takes a few seconds for the elastic latex to start squeezing into the loose flesh.

A second after that, Jill groans out a deep "UM!" as I keep pulling it tighter around her mound. Now her mound starts to dark as the band restricts the blood flow into it. "UM-OW!" Jill cries out, "OH!-OW!!!"

I keep pulling it tighter around the loose flesh of her mound. It's the part of her breast where it's at its softest, allowing the band to dig into her mound the most. It doesn't take long before it's pulled a good ¾" into the spongy flesh, finally squeezing into the muscles and glands of her breast.

Jill cries out a chorus of squealy "OW!s" that have a ring of pain to them.

I slip the band under itself to hold it in place. Jill whines her chorus. I wait a few seconds, leaving her breast resting atop my hand as it darkens into a purpleness. Now I know it's throbbing unpleasantly. "There, does your breast ache now, slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Jill cries out, "my breast aches unbearably right now, Ma'am."

"And does that remind you not to lie about what those breasts feel?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Jill agrees very eagerly. "I will never lie about what my breasts feel again, Ma'am. I will never forget the painful throbbing in my breast now, Ma'am. It will remind me never to lie to you, Ma'am."

"Good. Now ask me to bind your other breast, slut." I release her mound by simply pulling my hand out from under it. It lets her breast drop down to lie back against her chest. Her now-deep-purple mound against her white chest.

Jill cries out "UGH!" as it falls against her chest. Jill takes a couple of panicked breaths. Then in a voice that's even more reluctant, Jill asks me to please bind her other breast "so that one will remind her to be a good slut, too."

I put the other band around her left breast, pulling it just as tightly. Once it's fully bound and purple, I let that one lie back against her chest as well.

I count off about half of a minute in silence, leaving Jill ignored as she sits on the table, but also making sure she sees that I'm watching her closely. She knows what's expected of her. She's to sit still. The pain in her tightly bound breasts doesn't matter. She just has to endure it and make herself stay still. She fidgets, but she tries hard to keep it to where I might not notice it.

I definitely notice her wet eyes. Her clenched teeth. The fists she's balled up behind her back. The tendon's straining in her neck. The faint pinkness of a blush in her face. And the whiny little "OW!s" in every breath she takes. I notice the tension in her muscles as well.

"Get up and fetch your bra, slut. Give it to me." I stand at the foot of the exam table holding my hand out for the bra.