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All she could do was nod weakly as she felt thick straps being cinched low across her pelvis, across the tops of her thighs, and across her ankles. Another thick strap was placed about her neck, holding her head in place and tilted back slightly, so that the activity between her legs was no longer visible. Then, finally, her wrists pulled up and fixed in place above her head, leaving her utterly helpless.
Emily struggled to comprehend what was going on, but too much was happening at once. The men rotated seamlessly from her breast examination to out of sight between her legs. Her attempts to answer their questions became more and more erratic as unseen fingers stroked and prodded her clitoris and inserted themselves in her vagina. Other hands settled on her bare feet, her belly, wherever they wanted. In no time her body was hurtling towards an orgasm, primed for release, her hips bucking hard against the strap. Then, suddenly, as she reached her crests, everything stopped. She groaned in protest, hanging on the edge of a massive orgasm, her dazed eyes finding Dr. Prott standing over her, cupping her face gently.
"There, there, Emily, good girl. Let's take a break, let you cool down a bit."
"No, please, I...," she started to protest, but he cut her off.
"Soon, dear," he promised, then turning to the men. "Emily is, in fact, capable of multiple orgasms, but we want to be prepared first. Let's focus on finishing her breast examinations."
Her arousal still near a boil, two new men began caressing her breasts, the others again out of sight. This time the fingers between her legs merely stoked her lips, cruelly teasing her pouting sex and avoiding the center of her universe. Suddenly, the lightest of touches and she moaned in desperation. She struggled against her bonds, trying to get just a whisper of additional pressure in the right location, all for naught. The rest of the examination became a blur, man after man talking calmly to her as she roiled in need. She managed to pick out Dr. Prott speaking the only words that mattered to her, paroxysm or orgasm, and she whimpered in need.
The bed was adjusted again, this time lifting her up slightly so that she could clearly see her outstretched legs. Dr. Prott stood by one of her hips, one of the men stood beside the other hip. The other five men stood packed between her feet. The man at her hip held up two fingers and then slowly slid them into her, their eyes locked. The index finger of his other hand lowered slowly and settled on her clitoris and started to circle it lightly. She gasped at the sensations, eyes wide as she stared at him, before the tidal wave of need crested and she came hard on his fingers.
Finally her peak subsided and she slumped back in her bonds, only for a second man to take the first man's place. Her body was still on fire, and mere minutes later she came again, followed by another man taking his place. Her mind faded out as yet another orgasm approached and then crested, barely aware as another man came forward.
She awoke with a start, lying on a sofa, covered in a sheet. Her body was still flushed from the examination, and her dazed eyes wandered the room before finding Dr. Prott sitting near her head.
"Ah, you're awake, excellent. You were a very good girl today, and you can rest assured that your contribution to science today will help hundreds of women across England. Are you ready to get dressed?"
Emily nodded weakly and slowly rose, wrapping herself in the sheet as she padded over to the screen. She dressed by instinct, hands working clumsily but effective enough to get dressed. That night, staring up at the ceiling in her bed, she wondered if she would ever meet those young doctors again. Her hand drifted down from her nightly breast examination to find her center, raw but still needy. And then, for the first time in her young life, she obliged herself as she replayed the day's events in her head.
*****
This story was inspired from a throw away line in a separate story featuring "Dr. J Prott, Sc.D., F.R.S.Ed., F.R.C.O.G., F.A.A.A.S., F.A.A., F.R.S. Professorial Fellow, Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, Royal Women's Hospital." A story you just might find lurking around in the dark corners of the internet.
- COMMENTS
cdh023 months agoThe story was very exciting for me - my pussy was quite wet by the time i finished reading it, I was inspired to submit a couple of my stories but after reading the mean spirited, really nasty criticisms of your wonderful story I don't think I will do so. Who needs that kind of soul destroying rejection?
Carolinedh2001
Anonymousover 1 year agoSimonDoom is right. And not nit picking about the zip. Furthermore in the UK we do not say fall, it is Autumn and an Aristocratic, back then would be heading for marriage rather than University, unless she had very enlightened parents. She would also come out into society, a debutante to be presented to the Queen/Prince of Wales at a ball in the Palace, with the other deb's, so she wouldn't be doing this as it was the lower classes who did, for payment. And it wasn't called an orgasm in women....and the treatment for hysteria (that word is still reflected as removal of the uterus is called a hysterectomy but that's been around for a long time) was a special type of massage to induce a paroxysm, but Doctors hands got tired and the vibrator was invented and was steam powered!! I don't know why the author put the story in London, maybe it seems more erotic but this story would of been better say, in New York. The Doctor would of been a member of the Royal college of Gynecology and the Royal college of Obstetrics. So not the best story and I am sure more erotic to others, I was to busy laughing and I am sure if you asked someone French about the story set in Paris, they would be doing the same. Stick to a country you know.
Anonymousover 3 years agoI love this type of story, the reluctance, the embarrassment but submission without force and then the reluctant pleasure the subject receives and the embarrassment that goes with it. Would love more like this.
SimonDoomabout 5 years agoI thought this story was well-written and arousing. The development of the story was good, but it could have used more of an introduction. Since the essence of an exhibitionist story like this one is the element of embarrassment and discomfort being the only one naked in front of others, it would have helped to have more of an introduction to explain how and why Emily volunteered to expose her body this way, a dramatic thing to do in those days. You give only a very brief explanation that she's seeking treatment for her "hysteria," but a longer explanation would set up the story better.
I thought the editor's note was unnecessary. This isn't a nonconsent story. She's uncomfortable, but that doesn't make it a true nonconsent story.
Nitpicky anachronism: zippers were not in use for clothing in 1894. They didn't get widespread use until the 1900s, so she would not have unzipped herself.
