The Mock Patient

"Fuck," she said aloud, mortified by her accidental verbal slip. She brought her left hand up to cover her mouth as her right hand continued its diligent work. Molly felt herself getting closer, and she brought herself to a frenzy in search of release. She withdrew her finger from within and used the pads of three fingers married together to rake her clit mercilessly. The hand attacked her pleasure mound like an animal trying to burrow into impenetrable ground. She sought, deep within her, something buried beneath the surface and waiting impatiently to be brought out into the open. As her wrist and forearm reached rhythmic speeds on the verge of inciting carpal tunnel, Molly felt it emerging. The energy was building and rising within her groin. It spread out like a golden light warming the rest of her body as a spasm from her hips shook the rest of her frame. She felt the familiar tightening contractions, and Molly became free as her orgasm subsumed her.

Her quickened breathing gradually slowed, and a smile spread across her face. After allowing herself a brief moment of relaxed joy, Molly removed the left hand from her mouth, the right hand from her sex, and pulled the bottom of her gown back down into place. Throughout the release, her legs had never left the stirrups. She was now ready for the return of the students. She could relax. They could no longer pleasure her. She was finished and continent and now ready to be an empty, unfeeling mannequin for their learning.

A minute later, a knock at the door, "Everything OK in here?"

"Yes. I'm ready now." The line of students followed Professor Adams back into the room like baby ducks behind their mother.

"Good to hear. Good to hear. The break was perfect timing as it gave me a chance to prepare my charges for the next portion of your exam." He ducked down below and began opening drawers and rummaging beneath the exam table. When he returned into Molly's view, Professor Adams held a plastic speculum and was looking under her gown, sizing up Molly.

"Now, from our recent experience down below, I know that you are a tight little fit." A surge of adrenaline hit Molly's gut with a sickening shock. "There are no small sizes in this room, but I think we can still get by with a medium." The inappropriate clinical small talk - the leering, disgusting way Adams went about it - was already rekindling Molly's fire. She hated herself for it; Adams was repulsive, but his words turned the fossette back on between her legs.

Professor Adams began orienting the students to the tool at hand. He demonstrated the best angle and orientation for penetration. Molly heard the click, click, click, click of cheap plastic adjusting to size the speculum's opening. In a moment, she thought, it would be inside her. It would be inside her "tight little fit," as the professor had put it. The speculum would adjust to her size and expand her opening. It would push her boundaries and reveal her insides to these bystanders. As his monologue droned on, Molly worried. The orgasm she had given herself had not been a large one, by her standards. It had felt incomplete, but she assumed it would be enough to see her through the day, to desensitize her enough. However, the rekindled flame was a warning that it had not been enough. How would she respond to being penetrated again? How would she feel becoming more open, more vulnerable, more on display?

"Ready?" the instructor asked. Without waiting for a response, he had applied lube to the tip of the speculum and was inserting it without hesitation. Molly had never been entered so authoritatively, so uninvited. She had never so badly wanted something and not wanted it at the same time. She felt the cold plastic enter her completely, and she heard the click, click, click of herself being revealed to the room. She felt like a car or other inanimate machinery forcibly hoisted up so the mechanics could look at her undercarriage.

A murmur of discussion emanated from between her legs as the group discussed their findings. Once again Molly registered very little of it. There were appreciative clucks and grunts of acknowledgment and mentions of anatomy and technical terms for all the separate features of her pussy. The speculum retreated and again the students lined up - a reticent and achingly polite, meticulously organized plastic gangbang on the horizon.

Molly steeled herself. She talked to her womanhood in her mind, told it to behave. She told herself that this was a professional activity; she was being paid. She told herself this was a clinical activity. She looked around to remind herself that this was not a bedroom. She paid close attention to the health-related wall décor, the cabinets full of cotton swaps and antiseptic alcohol pads, the harsh fluorescent lighting. There was nothing sexy about this moment.

And yet, throughout this inner dialogue Molly found that she liked her predicament. She enjoyed being on display. She wanted a dozen hands on her. She needed to be seen, be watched. She remembered the professor's vile turns of phrase, being talked about like she wasn't there, like she was an object for their education.

The first student's speculum entered her now, roughly. Molly invited the inexpert manipulation within her. She shifted her hips down imperceptibly, sliding the plastic instrument into place on behalf of the hapless student. Click, click, click. She wallowed in the expansion.

Without her clit being stimulated, Molly felt herself immune to the threat of another orgasm. She breathed a small sigh of relief and relaxed to enjoy her pleasure. One by one, the students took their turns filling her up, opening her, observing, talking about her most private of places openly and clinically in the room. Molly savored it, paying close attention to the details. She wanted to lock this moment into her mind clearly. She would spend the next few years frequently masturbating to these memories, and she wanted to hold onto every sight, sound, and sensation. It was intoxicating, the mix of being both ignored and stimulated.

As the sixth and final student cycled through, Molly felt something different. A shy young women with a shock of red hair visible over the gown, Molly took pity on her as she approached the exam with a meek air of fear. That pity evaporated as this student took a unique angle on the approach of the speculum inside Molly, striking her and applying continuous pressure across Molly's G spot.

"I can't seem to get there, Professor. It doesn't feel how you described it."

"Let me see." Professor Adams also disappeared behind the gown now, handling the speculum in tandem with the student. Together they rocked the tool back and form, pulled it slightly out and back into the same place, grinding and providing ever-building friction across Molly's interior pleasure zone. "I'm not quite sure how you got it wedged into this angle. Let's take a look and see where you are." Click, click the speculum opened. "Still don't know where we've ended up. Perhaps if we reorient anteriorly."

Molly felt an enormous pressure building. The speculum was unrelenting in the grinding pressure it exerted. Each movement and readjustment crackled her loins with electric spasms. Perhaps because this was unlike any situation she had ever been in, the stimulation was unlike anything she had known. She had experienced "inside" orgasms during sex before, but there was an overwelmingness to the current encroaching sensations. Molly thought about pulling back, asking for another break, but there was an inevitability to what was happening to her body. She'd just assume stop the sun from setting today as stop this orgasm from taking control of her body. She gritted her teeth and gripped the table, committed to riding out this thing without making a peep.

The speculum remained pressed deeply into her. Ripples of pleasure gripped her body, and Molly came harder than she ever had in her life. Her G spot exploded, bringing new depths of orgasm she would not have thought possible.

I'm doing it, Molly thought, as she bit her tongue, suppressing any squeals from her mouth and successfully keeping her body pacid enough to go undetected. But to her horror, Molly's explosive orgasm transitioned into a climax of inescapable release. The feeling of release was followed rapidly by a shower of moisture across her inner legs and a scream of surprise by the redhead between them.

Though it had never happened to her before, Molly knew instantly that she was squirting. She felt emptied and hollowed out by the release, as if everything bad was leaving her body and all that remained was exquisite joy and orgasm. The shame and indignity of everything left her as she released an unrelenting jet of fluid, which struct the handle of the speculum and arced throughout the room in a shower of Molly's cum. The startled students were in a panicked state of shock and began backing out the room through the door. Professor Adams' glistening face appeared into Molly's view, dumbfounded, as he choked out a few sputtering apologies and exited himself.

Molly was alone now, wet below the waist, a speculum still inside her. She stretched her arms out wide, took a deep breath in and out, and simply laughed at the absurdity of the world. Unable to remove the smile from her face, she instead removed the medical device from her pussy and got dressed. When she walked out of room 124, teacher and students were all standing against one wall in the hallway. None could find any words for the moment and most averted their eyes.

Without breaking stride, Molly winked at Professor Adams. "Thanks, big guy." She reserved another glance for the final meek examiner. "Here's looking at you, Red." A few more steps and Molly turned the corner down another hall, leaving her mock patient career behind her, never to be invited back.