The Doctor's VisitSubmitted by: Dub
Recently, my wife (mistress) scheduled me for a thorough physical examination. I was informed that it would be the first of what will become annual exams. "After all," Mistress said, "I have to endure annual exams, so I think you should too. It will be good for you. You're my property now and I'm going to make sure you're well taken care of; whether you like it or not."
Perhaps I should fill you in on a little background information at this point. I have been the full and complete slave of my wife for about six months now. We had played with dominance and submission games on and off for several years previously, but had come to the point where we both felt we wanted to take things to the next step. That step, for us, was for me to become quite literally and irrevocably, the slave of my wife. After much discuss over several months, we had a quiet but very intense ceremony that included my receiving my permanent slave collar.
This is polished stainless steel collar about an inch high and at least a quarter of an inch thick. It is formed of two semi-circular pieces that Mistress actually had riveted in place with stainless steel rivets. As best as I can tell, there is no practical way it can ever be removed. I have every expectation that some day I'll be buried with it still securely about my neck. The collar fits snugly but comfortably about my neck. Mistress can just get the two smallest fingers of her hand between it and my neck. There are two rings fixed to the collar exactly opposite each other, for the attachment of a leash or other "accessory." From the ring on the front of the collar hangs a stainless medallion about the size of a fifty-cent piece. On it, Mistress had engraved, "Angela's Pet" on the front side, with her cell phone and pager numbers on the reverse. If I had entertained any doubts before, the first time I glimpsed myself in a mirror and saw the collar about my neck and realized it would never be removed, I knew for certain that this was no mere game for my mistress. She was deadly serious. Mistress rarely gives me any opportunity to cover or hide the collar, even in public. Even after several months, I am very aware of its presence and the looks and stares I get from people.
I soon found Mistress was deadly serious about something else too: my chastity. We had incorporated chastity and orgasm denial for me for a long time previous to my enslavement. I had become fairly accustomed to wearing a CB-2000 during my periods of submission to her. However, a couple weeks after my enslavement, Mistress took me to a piercing studio. There she had my frenum pierced as well as a second, guiche, piercing behind my balls. After the piercings healed, I was permanently fitted with 6-gauge stainless steel rings. A short, flat stainless chain with a second ring at its end is attached to the lower ring through my body. Mistress had prepared a stainless sheath that fit over my cock. It was just big enough for my flaccid cock and was curved. She slipped me into the sheath and pulled my frenum ring out through a slot near the lower end of the sheath. My tubed cock was then pulled down and back between my legs, and the frenum ring was padlocked to the dangling ring between my legs. This effectively prevents any attempt at an erection. With the sheath in place, I can neither see nor touch my penis.
The collar and chastity arrangements are only two of the many drastic changes in my life since the day I became my Mistress' property. When I agreed to become a slave, I had no idea how significantly my life would change. Mistress had obviously given the matter much more detailed consideration than I had. Still, I wouldn't go back to the way things were before even if I were given the opportunity to do so. I love my mistress more now than ever before. There is nothing I wouldn't do to please her or to make her life more enjoyable.
The day of the doctor's visit arrived on a Wednesday. Mistress had informed me the day before that I would need to take most of the next day off from my work. Since I work from home, this presented no real problem. That morning, Mistress escorted me to the medical clinic for my late morning appointment. I hadn't been really sick in years so this was the first time I had been in a doctor's office for quite some time and the first time at all to see this doctor. I hadn't even been informed who the doctor was or just what sort of examination I had scheduled. I held open the outer waiting room door while Mistress stepped inside, then followed her.
"Stand here by the door," she ordered quietly as she continued on to the receptionist's window.
There were only a few people sitting in the waiting room and I doubt anyone heard Mistress' soft command other than myself. As I was growing accustomed to such orders, I silently stepped to the side of the door and stood at relaxed attention, arms folded across my chest. While Mistress signed me in with the receptionist, I scanned the people in the room. There was a mother who had brought in her young daughter to my left, an elderly couple a few chairs down from them, and a middle-aged man in a chair over to my right.
Mistress spoke with the receptionist for a couple minutes, then moved to sit in a chair almost directly across from the mother and her child. She discreetly pointed to the space beside her chair and I quickly walked over to stand next to her. Though there were plenty of empty chairs in the room, there was no chair in the space Mistress had indicated next to her own chair. I took up my stance next to her and felt her give my behind a quick pat of praise. I glanced over to catch the mother across from us give me a brief appraising smile. I kept my head down and tried not to notice what anyone else was doing. These quiet little humiliations are something I am still trying to grow accustomed to. Even though she rarely makes a show of her ownership of me in public, these discrete rituals still make me very conscious of her control and ownership of me. I'm sure, also, that others sometimes recognize what she is doing and what our relationship is; especially once they notice my collar.
When I heard my name called, I looked up to see a nurse standing in an open doorway, clipboard in hand. She was a middle aged woman, a little on the plump side and rather plain looking in her pale blue lab coat. I looked down to see if Mistress intended to accompany me, but she was pointedly immersed in an old copy of People magazine. Nervously, I approached, the nurse and was instructed to follow her down a short hallway. As I left the waiting room, I noticed for the first time that the elderly couple had disappeared. The nurse showed me into an examination room about midway down the hallway.
"Please remove all your clothing and jewelry, then don the gown you'll find on the exam table," she instructed. "I'll be back in a few minutes." With that, she closed the door behind me, leaving me in the cool, sterile room.
I looked around nervously, wondering where I should put my clothes. I settled on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair crammed in one corner. I quickly removed my clothes, folding them and laying them on the chair before picking up the hospital gown the nurse had indicated. I had never worn one before and wasn't too enthusiastic (to say the least) about donning one at that point. Never-the-less, I slipped my arms through the sleeves and managed to tie the cords at the back of my neck and waist. Just as I had feared, the gown gaped open in the back, leaving me completely exposed from the neck down. Self-consciously, I sat down on the examination table, the paper cover feeling cool to my naked rear. At least I didn't have long to wait before the nurse returned.
She glanced over me quickly then asked again that I remove the rest of my jewelry as she was going to weigh me and wanted to get an accurate measure. She pointed vaguely toward my collar as she spoke. She seemed slightly shocked when I informed her that the collar could not be removed. "I couldn't help noticing your tag," she stated. "Are you telling me that you are not allowed to remove it, or that you are unable to do so."
"It's been riveted in place," I informed her sheepishly. "There is no way to remove it."
Now she was shocked and didn't even try to hide it. "Ever?" she exclaimed.
"That's right," I replied, hoping she would change the subject.
"So you're like a sex slave or something?" she asked. She began to gather up the blood pressure equipment to hide her surprise.
"I am the slave of my mistress," I answered as I had been taught for such a direct question.
"Whips and chains and all that?" she asked as she began to wrap the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm.
"At times," I admitted.
"And you like it?" she continued as she began to pump up the cuff.
"I love my mistress," I answered truthfully. "I enjoy serving her in what ever way she chooses. I don't always enjoy what she does to me, but I know that she loves me too."
"Your blood pressure is fine," the nurse stated, back to business. She made a notation on her clipboard then released the cuff and hung it back on the wall. She slipped a thermometer under my tongue, then moved to the door. "If you'll come with me," she said as she opened it, "we'll get you weighed and record your height."
Nervously, I stood and followed her into the hall, keeping one hand behind me to hold my gown closed at my rear. Luckily there was no one else in the hall. She led me around a corner to where a large set of hospital scales stood against one wall. Without waiting for further instructions, I stepped up on them and stood with my back to the weights. The nurse efficiently tapped the weights back and forth until the scale was balanced. Standing that close to her, I finally noticed that her name tag read "Gwen."
"One ninety-five," nurse Gwen announced and she jotted down the information. "Now, step back a little and stand up straight, hands at your sides, while I check your height."
I moved back until I felt the apparatus at my shoulder blades and reluctantly moved my hands down to my sides, allowing the gown to fall open at the back. The nurse lowered the horizontal measuring rod until it just touched the top of my head, then had me step down from the scales. I clumsily reached back to gather up the edges of the gown as I did so.
"Five feet, ten and a half inches," Gwen repeated to herself as she recorded the information. "Back to the exam room and have a seat, then we'll check your temperature," she ordered.
I followed her back into the room and resumed my place sitting on the end of the examination table. Nurse Gwen popped the thermometer from my mouth and held it up to read the temperature. "Exactly normal," she chirped as she made a note on her form.
"Now, I'm just going to draw a little blood," she informed me. She produced a syringe and an ampule and quickly filled the container with blood from my arm. She was very good and the whole procedure was nearly painless. "Just relax and the doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes," she stated as she left the room.
I waited patiently for the doctor. If there is anything I've had to learn as a full-time slave, it is to wait patiently and calmly. I didn't really mind it all anymore. I even thought to myself how nice it was to be allowed to sit on a comfortable, padded table, rather than kneeling on a cold hard floor. At home, I'm not allowed on the furniture at all without Mistress' permission. Even in public, I don't sit until she gives me a signal that grants me permission to do so.
It was probably about twenty minutes later that the door opened to admit nurse Gwen and another lady I realized must be the doctor. She was probably forty something, sandy blonde hair tied up in a bun, wearing the usual white lab coat. She had an attractive face and a pleasant smile which she immediately tried out on me.
"I'm Doctor Wilson," she announced cheerfully. "I'll be examining you today. We have a lot of ground to cover, so let's get started."
She stepped up to me and donned her stethoscope. With one hand on my chest, she used the other to move the scope across my bare back, listening as I breathed for a few moments. "Nurse Gwen tells me that you are a real live slave boy and that this collar is a permanent fixture," the doctor stated by way of idle conversation.
Though I could think of lots of topics for discussion I would feel more comfortable with, I answered her properly. "Yes, ma'am, I've been the slave of my mistress for about six months now."
"And you enjoy this arrangement?" she asked as she continued to move the scope about my back.
"Immensely," I answered truthfully.
"In that case," the doctor said as she leaned back, "I'm happy for you. Please undo the top of your gown and lower it to your waist so I can check your heart."
"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I reached to untie the cord at the base of my neck.
The doctor leaned back toward me and began listening to my heart. She took her time, moving the stethoscope here and there on my chest. She had me breath deeply a few times while she listened to my lungs. After a few moments, she stepped back, removing her stethoscope and pronouncing my heart and lungs sound.
"Now," she instructed, "stand up and remove your gown completely."
I hesitated. I knew I was wearing my chastity sheath. I really didn't want to have to strip in front of the two women while wearing it. While I was trying to come up with some excuse not to comply with her instructions, she spoke again. "Is there some problem? I assure you, you don't have anything we haven't seen countless times before."
"It's just that..."
"Does your mistress allow you to hesitate when she gives you an order?" the doctor interrupted with a mischievous smile.
"No ma'am," I answered, "but..."
"No buts!" the doctor stated. "Get up and get out of that gown before I inform your mistress about how much trouble you are causing."
"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I immediately stood up. As much as I hated the idea of exposing my chastised manhood to these women, I feared the punishment I knew I would receive if they reported to my mistress that I had given them any trouble. I had been down that road before and definitely didn't want to go back.
I reached behind me and loosened the gown, then reluctantly pulled it away from my body and set it aside on the exam table. I stood there blushing for what seemed like an eternity while both women stared at my crotch, neither speaking a word, or apparently even breathing for all I could tell.
"Perhaps I miss-spoke," the doctor finally blurted out. "What on earth are you wearing down there?"
"A... a chastity device," I mumbled unhappily.
"Don't tell me that's locked on permanently too?" the doctor questioned, trying to maintain her professional demeanor with only marginal success.
"No, ma'am," I answered. "Mistress has the key."
"Well of course she does," the doctor responded with a smile. She turned to nurse Gwen. "Nurse, will you please go ask our boy's mistress to come back."
"Of course, doctor," she answered. I heard her break out in laughter once she was outside the door.
"Turn around and bend over the table," Doctor Wilson ordered.
Glad at least to be able to avoid eye contact, I turned around to face the end of the exam table. The doctor bent down in front of me and pulled out a short platform from the end of the table.
"Just step up there and bend forward so you are laying across the table," she instructed. As I bent over, I heard her snap on a pair of surgical gloves. I groaned inwardly, knowing what must come next. After a moment, I felt her cool, wet finger at my rear entrance. "Relax now and this won't hurt a bit," the doctor said soothingly.
I did my best to relax and after a moment's hesitation felt the doctor insert her finger in my anus past her second knuckle. She moved her finger around, coating the inner walls of my colon before pulling it back out. Almost immediately it returned, accompanied by a second finger.
"This is not the first time you've had something back here, is it?" she asked.
"No, ma'am," I gasped softly.
"No, ma'am, it's not," I answered more loudly.
"Does your mistress like to play back here?" she asked as I felt her insert a third finger.
I groaned in pain as she stretched me widely. "Yes, ma'am, sometimes she enjoys using me there."
About that time, I heard the door open and nurse Gwen and Mistress walk in. I could only imagine the sight of me there, naked and bent over the table, three fingers of the doctor's hand shoved deeply into my rear passage.
"Hello, Angela," the doctor greeted Mistress.
"Katherine," Mistress answered. "Finding anything interesting back there?" she asked, indicating the doctor's continued probing of my colon.
Katherine? Does Mistress already know the doctor? I wondered.
"I've learned this is not the first time he's had something shoved in here," she answered pleasantly as she finally pulled her fingers out and peeled off the glove.
"Yes, I know," Mistress sighed. "Frankly, I find the entire notion somewhat disgusting, but he begs so pitifully for it that sometimes I give in and grant his request."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. As if it weren't embarrassing enough to be standing there naked and bent over the table in front of three women while one of them probed my anus, now they were beginning to discuss intimate details of our sex life as if I weren't even there. I also knew that Mistress definitely did not find using her strap-on on me disgusting but I wasn't about to contradict her. It was true that I had occasionally begged her to do so, but only at her insistence. I did find the activity somewhat disgusting and thoroughly humiliating. Unfortunately, things would get worse before they got better.
"Just be sure not to stretch him too far. There is a limit to how much the sphincter can expand."
"Yes, doctor," Mistress answered, "I'm well aware of that and do take the necessary precautions. I've never used anything really large on him. You should hear him scream for mercy whenever I used just the medium dildo I keep for him."
"Very well," Doctor Wilson answered. "In any case, his prostate seems to be healthy and I didn't notice any fecal build-up on the walls of his colon."
"Excellent," Mistress responded. "I'm glad to hear the enemas I give him every couple weeks are doing their job.
"And speaking of shoving things where the sun doesn't shine..." she continued. "Now that you are finished back there and he is all lubed up and relaxed, I'd like to go ahead and insert this small reminder."
Looking back over my shoulder, I saw her remove a medium-sized butt plug. Stepping up behind me, she lightly patted my back. "Now just relax, pet," she ordered gently as I felt her force the object deeply inside me. "Could things get any worse!" I wondered. Though the plug wasn't the largest in her collection, it was definitely large enough to cause me some discomfort, not to mention the humiliation I was feeling at that point. I could feel its thick length filling my insides and knew I would be reminded of its presence every time I moved.
"I find that little reminders like this really help keep him focused on his proper station in life," Mistress informed her audience.
"Do make him wear that a lot?" nurse Gwen asked, no longer even trying to hide the amusement in her voice.
"One or two days a week on a continual basis help keep him in shape for that dildo he so dearly loves," Mistress said, "plus a few extra hours thrown in here and there on a random basis just to keep him on his toes."
"I would imagine," the doctor replied. "The reason I called you back is because I would like to inspect his penis for any signs of incipient problems associated with his chastity device. By the way, you didn't tell me about that little piece of equipment.
Mistress smiled. "I thought I'd let it be a surprise."
"You certainly got your wish that time," the doctor chuckled. "Do you have the key to the lock with you?"
"Yes, in fact I do," Mistress answered helpfully. "I'll be glad to unlock it for you. We do have one rule, however, that I hope you won't mind if we follow."
"What's that?" the doctor asked.
"Well," Mistress replied, "as I'm sure you're aware, most men have a nasty habit of masturbating at every opportunity. Mine was no different before I began to keep him chaste. Since then, our rule is that his hands and his penis will never be free at the same time. Each time I remove his chastity device, I first make sure his hands are secured in a way that will prevent him from even touching his member. Under no circumstances will he ever again be allowed to touch himself. He just finds it too tempting."
"I'm afraid we're really not equipped to restrain anyone here," Doctor Wilson informed her.
"That's why I always carry these," Mistress cheerfully announced as she pulled a set of thumb cuffs from her purse. I knew it was true that she did always carry them with her. She seemed to delight in snapping them on me at odd moments and in strange places. Never leave home without them was her motto.
"What is that?" Gwen asked.
"Thumb cuffs, are they not?" the doctor offered.
"That's right," Mistress answered. "If you don't mind, I'll snap them on him and you can proceed with your examination."
"Please do so," the doctor replied.
Mistress tapped twice firmly in the small of my back. "Thumbs, pet," she ordered pleasantly. This was going way beyond what I ever would have expected of her. Every time I thought my embarrassment and humiliation couldn't get any worse, she was proving me wrong. Obediently, albeit with great reluctance, I moved my hands to the small of my back, palms facing outward and thumbs pointing up so she could easily secure the cuffs. "Good boy," Mistress praised softly as she patted my rump in praise.
A moment later I felt her tug at the lock to my chastity. A quick click later I felt her slide the stainless steel shaft off of my cock. In spite of my acute embarrassment, I felt myself instantly growing rigid. I wanted to find a hole to crawl into and hide. Instead, I heard Mistress order, "Present!" Immediately, I stood up and turned to face her on my small platform. I stood up straight, my feet roughly shoulder width apart, which was as far apart as I could put them and stay on the platform.
"Wow, you sure do have him trained," Gwen giggled. "I wish I could get my husband to snap to attention like that."
Mistress smiled. "Any male can be trained, given the proper circumstances."
"He certainly seems happy to be free of that steel tube," the doctor observed with open amusement.
"Yes," Mistress agreed. "He has absolutely no arousal control without it."
"I see his erectile tissue has not lost its elasticity," the doctor observed. "Do you let him out on a regular basis to keep it in shape?"
"Of course," Mistress replied. "Probably like many women, I like to use his member two or three times a week. The rest of the time, I make use of his other talents."
"He probably gets sex as often as my husband," the nurse offered, "and I don't even keep him locked up."
"He gets sex quite often," Mistress replied. "Orgasms are another matter entirely."
"And how often does he orgasm?" the doctor asked.
"About once every two to three weeks, normally," Mistress informed them.
"And when was his last orgasm?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"A little over two weeks ago," Mistress answered.
The doctor pulled a chair over directly in front of me and sat down to examine me. She hefted my balls and began to firmly examine them. I have never cum from just having my balls massaged, but at that point I felt like I was so close. The doctor manipulated may balls for several minutes; longer, I'm sure than was necessary. The whole time she kept her face so close that I could feel her breath. I had to mount a continuous struggle not to lose control and shoot all over her. One warning glance from my mistress was more than enough to let me know that I would pay dearly for such an act.
"His testicles appear to be none the worse for wear," the doctor finally announced. Before I could be relieved that she had stopped with my balls, she began to examine my frenum piercing. Taking the ring between her fingers, she first tugged it towards herself, pulling my cock out away from my body. She continued to force it downward until the head was pointing directly at her, then still further until it was directed toward the floor. I groaned in pain.
"Apparently this does cause some discomfort," the doctor mused, "but then that's only to be expected at this angle and given his state of arousal. At least the piercing doesn't seem to be hyper sensitive in a way that would indicate a problem was developing. Also, there are no signs of redness or edema. That's a good sign," she noted as she released the ring and allowed my cock to thump back against my belly. "The ring seems firmly attached," the doctor continued as she began to spin it through the piercing.
I almost lost it at that point, but at the first twitching of my cock, the doctor released her hold on me and leaned back slightly. "I believe it would take very little to bring him to climax at this point," she stated.
"I could have him spilling his seed all over the floor in less than a minute," Mistress bragged.
"Well, we can't have that, now can we," the doctor said somewhat huffily. "That would hardly be sanitary."
"He knows better than to orgasm without permission," Mistress informed them with another warning glare in my direction.
The doctor resumed her examination. Taking a firm grip on my shaft, she manipulated it back and forth so she could get a good look at the base from all angles. If I thought I was going to lose it before, now I was certain. The doctor seemed to enjoy tormenting me, taking her time and making sure she gave me plenty of stimulation. I looked at Mistress, pleading silently with her for mercy. She refused to meet my gaze, instead focusing her attention on the doctor's examination. Finally, just as I was on the verge of reaching the point of no return, the doctor leaned back and announced that everything seemed fine. I groaned in frustration.
The doctor chuckled. "He seems disappointed I didn't bring him to climax."
"He really has no shame," Mistress replied with an exaggerated sigh. "I honestly think he'd blow his load at high noon on Times Square if I let him."
"I want to examine his guiche piercing and ring, then we'll be all done," Doctor Wilson announced.
"How do you want him?" Mistress asked.
"It might be best if he were on his knees on the table, facing away from me. If he rests his head on the table surface, that should place him in a good position for me to examine him."
Mistress snapped her fingers. "Slave position on the table," she ordered.
I turned, and with the doctor's help, climbed onto the table on my knees. I spread my knees apart, then bent over and pressed my forehead against the padded surface of the table. Mistress had taught me that this was a standard slave position. I was very familiar with it as I often had to assume it at home for various reasons. Once ordered into position, I knew I was expected to remain there until told otherwise. I knew that the butt plug Mistress had forced into my rectum was pointing directly at the three women and that the short chain dangling from my guiche ring would be dangling down in plain view for them.
I heard and felt the doctor step up close behind me. With my forehead pressed firmly against the padding of the table top and my eyes closed, I couldn't see anything that was happening. I heard a click, then felt a tugging on the chain attached to the guiche ring. "This seems to be well done also," the doctor announced. "It is deeply embedded, yet I see no damage. There is no redness and the ring appears to turn freely in the piercing."
"The piercer I used is very reputable," Mistress announced.
"We're all through here," the doctor in formed her. "I suppose you can lock him back up now if you like."
"It's almost one and I'm starving," Mistress spoke to the doctor. "Are you free for lunch."
"I'm never free, dear," the doctor joked, "but I don't see why I can't be available for lunch. We don't see patients on Wednesday afternoons and I don't have rounds at the hospital until later."
"If you have a place we can stash my pet for an hour or so, why don't we make it just the two of us," Mistress suggested.
"What do you mean?" Doctor Wilson asked.
"Do you have a storage room, or janitor's closet, or somewhere like that, we could leave him for an hour or so while we're gone to lunch?"
"We do have a janitor's closet, but I don't think there's much room in there."
"Let's have a look," Mistress suggested. "I'll bet it will be just fine."
"Right this way," I heard the doctor say. I heard sounds of all three of the women leaving the room, but no door closing. I desperately wanted to turn my head just enough to see if they had closed the door, but I had been punished more than once for breaking position without permission. I kept my eyes closed and hoped no one would walk by. If they did, I knew there was no way they could help notice me in such an exposed position.
After several minutes, I heard the doctor and Mistress return. "Right where we left him," the doctor commented. "How long will he stay like that?"
"Until I give him permission to move, if he knows what's good for him," Mistress replied.
"I have to admit, I'm fascinated by all this," I heard from the doctor.
"If you like," Mistress offered, "we can discuss it in more detail over lunch."
"I'd like that," said the doctor.
Suddenly I felt a hand grasp my cock (which had deflated somewhat during the time I had been left alone), and shove it down into the chastity sheath. I felt Mistress fumbling with the frenum ring to pull it through the slot in the sheath, then she dragged the whole thing back and locked it all in place. "Nice and secure," Mistress purred as she gave my rump a quick rub.
"Present!" she ordered next.
Somewhat stiffly, I turned and moved to my feet, back on the platform at the end of the table. I watched Mistress fish a leash out of her purse (something else she always carried). It was more of a cord, actually, made out of black nylon. There was loop formed in one end for a handle and a small snap lock on the other. Businesslike, she snapped the leash to the ring on the front of my collar.
"Heel," she ordered softly as she turned and started for the door.
I couldn't believe it! I was slave naked (naked except for my collar and chastity device), obviously cuffed, and she was going to lead me out into a public doctor's office where any one could see. I kept my head down, watching her feet, hoping everyone else had already gone to lunch.
Thankfully, I didn't notice anyone but the doctor as we made our way toward the back of the office. There, near the rear exit, I saw the janitor's closet through an open doorway. Mistress led me inside the narrow room. There, against the outside wall, were a couple of insulated pipes running from floor to ceiling. Mistress led me over until I stood facing them. A quick downward jerk on my leash directed me to drop to my knees. I watched Mistress knot the leash about one of the pipes just in front of my face. Then, without a word, she patted me on the head and walked out. When the door was closed I was plunged into complete darkness. I couldn't even make out the pipes inches in front of my face.
I tested the limits of my leash, although I already knew Mistress hadn't left me much room. There was only 5 or 6 inches between my collar and the pipe; not enough slack to either stand up or sit down comfortably. I would be forced to remain standing on my knees on the cold, hard concrete floor until Mistress returned to free me. I could have worked at the knots in the leash with my teeth and perhaps could have worked them loose eventually, but in the darkness I figured I could gnaw through the cord faster than I could undo the knots. Either way, I would still be naked and with my thumbs cuffed behind my back and would be sure to receive a very severe punishment from Mistress. Knowing this, I resigned myself to wait as I was for however long it took Mistress to return.
I had probably been kneeling there for about half an hour (judging by the level of discomfort in my knees) when the door suddenly swung open. Very quickly it was slammed shut again. I could hear some excited female voices outside the closet. Then, after a moment, the door was opened again and the light switched on. I could turn my head enough to see that two nurses stood in the doorway.
"Oh-my-gosh, it's true!" I heard one exclaim.
I turned my face back to the wall, hoping they would just go away and leave me in alone. Of course, that was the last thing on their minds.
"He's got something on his thumbs," I heard the second speak. She approached me from behind, bent down and pulled my hands up and back to get a better view. "They're cuffed together, just like Gwen said," I heard. She released her hold on my cuffed thumbs and bent down to place her hands on my rear. I felt her fingers slide down the crease then pull my cheeks apart. "He's plugged too!" she giggled.
"Turn around so I can see your front," the nurse ordered me.
"I don't have enough slack to turn around, Miss," I informed her.
She leaned over me, tugging my shoulder back and moving my jaw to get a better view. I got a good whiff of her perfume while she was close. She smelled really good. I felt her fumbling with the catch on the leash where it attached to my collar. After a moment, I felt it drop away. "Now you can turn around," she announced as she stepped back.
Reluctantly, I turned to face her, still on my knees. For the first time I got a good look at her. She was as attractive as her scent. She was probably in her early thirties, sandy blonde hair, with a lovely face and striking eyes. From what I could tell by her somewhat bulky uniform, she also had a very nice figure. The nurse behind her was also attractive, but not in such as striking way as the blonde. This second lady was a brunette with large dark eyes. I noted from the tags on their uniforms that the blonde was named Carol and the brunette was Marie.
Smiling, Carol nudged my knees apart with the toe of her shoe. She then gently tapped her foot against my chastity sheath. "So it's true the little slave boy can't even get it up without his mistress' permission," she noted with amusement. "Do you like being a little eunuch slave boy?" she asked sarcastically.
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered softly.
"Does she always treat you like this?" Marie asked.
"No, ma'am, not always."
"I bet he loves it though," Carol offered. "I'll bet he'd be hard right now if he didn't have that steel tube locked on his cock."
"What are you going to do with him?" Marie asked.
"I haven't decided yet," Carol answered. "I suppose he'll do about anything we tell him to. Won't you boy?"
"Yes, ma'am, within certain limits," I answered.
"Why don't you lean over and kiss my feet," Carol ordered.
I leaned over and began to lick and kiss Carol's white running shoes. Marie crowded around in the small room to get a better look. "He's really doing it!" she exclaimed in a surprised tone.
"Of course he is," Carol answered. "He probably gets off on licking the crud off the bottom of women's shoes."
"Yuck!" Marie snorted. "I want him to do mine after he's finished with yours."
Carol stepped aside. I stayed where I was, my head near the floor, facing the open doorway of the closet. Carol wormed her way back behind me. "Scoot up and start on her feet," Carol ordered. "Use lots of tongue. Keep you head turned so we can see you really licking and cleaning her shoes."
Silently cursing them for what they were doing to me, I scooted forward on my knees until I could reach Marie's feet. I began kissing them, laving my tongue along their white leather top and along the crease where the leather met the rubber soles. I felt my knees kicked further apart.
"Get that ass up in the air, boy," Carol ordered.
Helplessly, I tried to obey her as I perched awkwardly on my knees trying to maintain my balance. I rested my forehead against Marie's ankle as I continued to address myself to her foot. Suddenly I realized what Carol's intentions were when I felt her fingers on the plug in my rectum. Slowly, she began to pull it out. She stopped when she reached the maximum diameter of the plug, stretching my sphincter wide. I gasped and momentarily stopped with my tongue.
"Did I could say you could stop licking, boy?" Carol demanded.
"No, ma'am," I stammered and began again on Marie's other foot.
Carol rotated the plug left and right a few times, holding at it widest point. Then, she gave it a little shove and allowed it to be sucked back inside me to its hilt. Without a pause, she tugged it back out to its maximum point again, not neglecting to give it a little twist. She let my body pull it back in before tugging on it again. Soon, she was raping me with the plug, pulling it almost all the way out before shoving it hard back in to its full depth. She kept this up for several minutes. I tried to concentrate on the shoes in front of me.
"Look, he likes it!" Marie giggled. "See how he's moving his hips."
I blushed and stopped in mid thrust. I hadn't even realized what I was doing. I was mortified. I wished Mistress would return and send them away.
"Don't stop now, slave boy," Carol sneered. "Keep those hips moving. Hump this plug like the queer you know you are."
Tears of shame forming in my eyes, I did as I was told. I felt Carol's firm hold on the plug as I moved my hips away from the plug, then leaned back toward her, jamming the plug to its hilt in my rear.
"Faster," Carol ordered, "or I'll pull this thing out of your ass and shove it in your mouth."
Closing my eyes, I began to move my hips as fast as I could against the plug in her hand. Nothing I had faced in the few shorts months of my full slavery had been this humiliating. I don't know how long I kept it up, but I finally realized that both women were laughing hysterically. I immediately also realized that Carol's hand was no longer on the plug and that I was thrusting my hips against the empty air. I stopped at once, resting my forehead on Marie's shoes, trying to blink the tears out of my eyes.
"He's such a slut!" Carol laughed.
"What now?" Marie asked.
"I just want to do one more thing," Carol told her. "Then we'd better tie him back up before his mistress gets back."
"What's that?" Marie wanted to know.
"Kneel up, slave," Carol ordered as she moved back around in front of me.
I moved to a kneeling position, standing up on my knees. I couldn't bear to lift my eyes to look at either of the ladies standing before me. Suddenly, Carol's fingers appeared before my eyes.
"I got some goop on my fingers, boy. Clean them off," she ordered.
I opened my mouth as she shoved them roughly inside. I used my tongue to clean the foul tasting stuff from her fingers. There wasn't much, but it was enough to make me want to gag. It was all I could do to force myself to clean the fingers she swirled in my mouth. After a moment, she removed them and dried them in my hair. A hand under my chin forced me to look up at her.
"Before we go," she announced, "I think I'll give you a glimpse of what a eunuch slave-boy faggot like you will never have."
I watched as she began to unbutton the front of her pale blue lab coat. Soon, her coat was hanging open and she was working on the buttons of her blouse. Next, she was standing before me, her blouse open to the waist of her skirt, showing off her soft, lightly tanned belly and her nice round breasts partially confined in a lacy white bra. She reached behind her back and loosened the bra but left it in place. Leaning over, she pulled her breasts free, cradling them in her hands. They were beautiful; round and full with long erect nipple standing out from maroon areolas.
"Like what you see, slave-boy?" she asked as she jiggled her breasts slightly in her cupped palms.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered, dry mouthed.
She leaned closer, brushing her breasts against my cheek. Her scent was intoxicating. "Wish you could touch them?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered truthfully.
"Wish you could kiss them, suck them, play with them?" she teased.
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered.
She brushed the hard nub of a nipple across my lips. On its own volition, I felt my tongue snake out between my lips, reaching for her. Carol laughed and easily moved back out of my reach. She quickly slipped her breasts back in her bra. "That's as close as you'll ever get, boy," she teased. "Only real men get to touch this body; not pussy-whipped little eunuchs like you."
"Quick," Marie warned, "Gwen says they're coming back."
"Hook him back up while I finish getting dressed," Carol ordered as she quickly left.
"Back against the wall," Marie ordered.
I couldn't tell if she was feeling apologetic over what had happened or disappointed that it was over. I turned and moved back to my earlier position facing the pipes against the wall. Marie leaned over me and began fumbling with the snap lock on the leash, trying to get it attached to my collar. Finally, I felt it click in place and Marie hurried out, slamming the door behind her.
A few minutes later the door opened again. Looking back over my shoulder, I was relieved to see my mistress standing in the doorway.
"How have you been, pet?" she asked kindly.
"Anxiously awaiting your return, Mistress," I answered honestly.
She smiled. "That's nice," she said. Then, "Didn't I turn this light out when I left?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.
"Have you had visitors?" she demanded.
"Yes, ma'am," I responded.
She walked over and untied my leash from the piping then turned me to face her, still on my knees. "Who was here?" she asked, "and what did they do with you?"
Kneeling there, I related to her all of the events that had transpired since she had left me. When I got to the part about Carol revealing her breasts to me, she was furious. When I had become a slave, I had learned I was expected to obey all instructions and grant all requests made by free women. However, there were limitations and restrictions. First, I was never to look upon any woman's body other than my mistress. I was expected to avert my gaze under all circumstances. I was certainly not allowed to look at a woman who was partially clothed. If I was ordered to do so by another woman, I was expected to politely refuse and inform her that my mistress had strictly forbidden such activity. If she attempted to force me, I was to close my eyes and beg her mercy. This was my first true test of such a circumstance and, caught up in the moment, I had failed completely.
Mistress quietly and coldly demanded to know what else I had done. Had I touched her? Had I kissed her? I told her that Miss Carol had rubbed her bare breasts across my face and that I had been forced to have contact with her.
"And while she was rubbing her breasts all over your face did you try to kiss her?" she demanded icily. "Did you stick that filthy tongue of yours out and try to touch her with it?"
I could tell by the tone of her voice that I was in serious trouble. Mistress never raises her voice when she is angry. Instead, she speaks with a coldly controlled, firm but quiet voice; exactly the voice she was currently using. I stared at the floor between her feet, unable to speak.
"Answer, slave!" she snapped as she gave a sharp tug on my leash.
"I didn't kiss her, Mistress," I croaked. My throat was so tight I was afraid I would suffocate.
There was a long pause while Mistress said nothing. "So instead you stuck your tongue out and plastered it all over her."
"No, Mistress," I answered quietly. "I did put my tongue out, but I never touched her."
"You never touched her because you stopped yourself, or because she didn't let you?"
"She moved away," I confessed softly.
Another long pause. "I suppose you should be thankful for small favors," she muttered. "You can think on that tonight while you're hogtied on your belly in the basement.
"I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you," she continued. "This is the first time I've left you in a position to be tempted by other women and you failed miserably. You did exactly what I've warned you not to do. I had scheduled more physical tests for you this afternoon at the hospital, but that will all have to wait now. I'm going to have to take you home and teach you the consequences of so deliberately disobeying some of the most basic rules I've given you. Believe me, when I'm through with you, you won't even consider making the same mistake twice."
"Yes, Mistress," I sobbed.
"Look up at me," she ordered.
I forced myself to do so. Before I realized her intent, she slapped me hard across the left side of my face. In the small closet, it sounded like a gun going off. My head snapped to the right and I would have fallen over if she had not jerked me up short by my leash. Just as I was regaining my balance, she slapped me again, this time on my right cheek. As before, I was kept from falling by her hand on the leash.
Without another word, Mistress jerked me to my feet, but held my head low, near her waist so that I was bent sharply at my own waist, my hands still confined at my back. Holding my head down at her hip, she led me stumbling from the closet toward the examination room where she had left my clothes.
"Is anything wrong?" I heard. I recognized Carol's voice.
"Not at all," Mistress answered kindly. She paused and I quickly dropped to my knees at her side. She kept my leash taught and my head in place at her hip. "I was merely reminding my pet not to overstep the bounds of what I will allow. We'll discuss it further when we get home."
"It's probably my fault," Carol apologized. "Maybe I did get a little carried away playing with him for a few minutes."
"Not at all," Mistress answered easily. "If I hadn't wanted anyone to play with him, I would have taken him with me or left him in the car. However, he knows he is not allowed to look at other women the way I believe he looked at you, much less try to kiss or lick them with his filthy tongue."
Carol blushed deeply and shot me a quick, angry look. She hadn't realized I would tell Mistress everything. "I'm sorry," she said. "I really shouldn't have done that."
Mistress walked up to her, forcing me to hustle to me feet to keep from being dragged. When she stopped, I again dropped to my knees. Mistress placed her hand on Carol's arm. "As I said before," Mistress told her gently. "You did nothing wrong. You were completely within your rights to have a little fun with him. He, on the other hand, knows better than to respond so lewdly."
"Then you're not angry with me?" Carol asked.
"Of course not," Mistress responded. "In fact, the next time you would like to play with a helpless slave-boy, give me a call." She fished a business card out of her purse and handed it to the nurse.
"Thank you," Carol smiled. "I promise you'll be hearing from me soon."
"Good," Mistress answered. "I'll be looking forward to it."
With that, she led me on back to my clothes. Silently, she removed the cuff from my left thumb long enough for me to get dressed. I noticed a deep red circle around my thumb where the cuff had been. I knew the other would have a similar mark that would take nearly an hour to disappear. I also knew my face had two very red cheeks from where Mistress slapped me.
As soon as I was dressed, Mistress pulled my hands back behind me and replaced the cuff about my left thumb. I was terrified with the thought that she was going to make me walk out through the clinic and through the parking lot to her car with my hands cuffed at my back but I knew better than to even speak at that point, much less complain. Only when I was securely cuffed did Mistress unsnap the leash from my collar, coil it neatly, and place it in the bottom of her purse.
"Heel!" she ordered sharply as she turned to leave.
Meekly, I followed her into the hallway and toward the front of the doctor's office. Two or three of the nurses watched us pass and I knew they could plainly see the bright red handprints on each side of my face. Luckily, no one was in the lobby and we passed through in silence and out the door into the main hallway leading from one side of the facility to the other. We had started toward the main entrance when I heard a door open behind us.
"Miss Angela," Marie called.
Mistress stopped and turned to face her. Nervously, I knelt at Mistress' feet. I sincerely hoped no one would walk out of one of the doctor's offices just then. "Yes?" Mistress asked.
"Well..." Marie began.
"Yes?" Mistress repeated.
"It's just that Carol said you told her she could call you sometime," Marie stammered. It seemed she couldn't take her eyes off of me.
"Yes, I did," Mistress answered. She paused. Marie still had not looked directly at Mistress. "Were you thinking you would like to dominate a boy like my pet," Mistress prodded gently, "or did you perhaps have something else in mind?"
"Perhaps..." Marie softly confided. "Perhaps something else."
"You've wondered what it would be like to find yourself in a position similar to my boy's?" Mistress questioned.
"I suppose so," Marie answered.
"Yes or no?" Mistress demanded gently.
"Yes," Marie whispered.
In my head, I screamed for Mistress to hurry and finish with her or at least give me some signal that I could stand before some one came along. Instead, she continued speaking to the nurse as if I were not even present.
"It would not be easy," Mistress warned her.
"I understand," Marie answered.
Mistress removed a card from her purse and dropped it to the floor at her feet. She moved her foot forward and placed it upon the card. "Kneel and ask nicely," she ordered quietly.
Marie looked around nervously, hesitating.
"Quickly before some one comes along," Mistress urged her. "You'll not get another chance."
Marie glanced quickly around, then with a blush and a sigh, she sank to her knees. "Please, Miss Angela," she asked. "May I call you sometime?"
Mistress removed her foot from the card. "You may," she announced with a smile.
Marie snatched the card from the floor and started to rise. Mistress placed a hand on her head. When Marie looked up, worried, Mistress smiled down at her and held her hand to the nurse's mouth.
"You may kiss my hand and thank me for the card," Mistress informed her.
Another blush and Marie leaned forward and softly brushed her lips across the back of Mistress' hand. "Thank you for your card, Miss Angela," she said.
Mistress stepped back, allowing the nurse to rise. She was still standing in the hallway, blushing furiously as Mistress and I turned to leave. We hadn't gone more than four or five steps when a man bustled from a doorway on our right. He also turned toward the main entrance and I don't think he noticed either of us in his hurry to exit.
We made it safely and uneventfully to Mistress' car and from there on home. Once there, however, I received the most severe punishment I had ever experienced. I was in torment for several days. In fact, I missed work the rest of the week but that's an entirely different story. Both Carol and Marie called on Mistress the next week, for entirely different reasons. Those stories will also have to await another time. Suffice it to say for now, that my visit to the doctor's office on that fateful day is one I will never forget.
Page last updated 04-Sep-21 by: Altairboy@aol.com