After a mishap during an internet challenge, Judy finds herself falling further and further into the grasp of one devious Dr. Andrew Dickens.
Story Tags: Challenge, Clit Slap, Doctor, Femsub, Humiliation, Maledom, Marriage, Musk Slut, Office, Panties Stuffing, Public, Pussy Kick, Pussy Stuffing, Slave, Soiled Panties, Urination, Watersports, Wedding
Chapter 2
Judy sits and waits in her local free clinic, her hands rubbing together, her feet jittering. The urine-soaked panties have been stewing inside her for the whole night. Yesterday, when she tried her best to remove the dirty fabric, only to end up masturbating on the floor of her bathroom.
A girl next to her asks, “Nervous? What’s your number?”
Judy flips the hem of her dress and takes a peek at the plastic number tag on a string hanging from her vulva. To recover the world population, waiting tickets have been replaced by vibrators—eggs vibrators for women and vibrating rings for men. “Fifty six.”
“Sixty.” The girl nods. “Brace yourself. I heard the vibrators here are extra strong.”
A man near them strokes his flaccid penis hanging out of the zipper, adorned by a silicone vibrating ring with a similar plastic number tag. “Really?”
The girl lowers her eyes to his crotch and says, “Yes, sir.”
The man glances at his watch and beckons the girl over. “Come here.”
“Yes, sir.” She kneels between his legs and waits for his order.
“Suck me.” He slips the vibrating ring to the base of his prick and lets her give him a blowjob, something to amuse him while he waits.
Judy is simply glad it isn’t her. Darting her eyes around the waiting room, she sees most men have women on their knees to suck their dicks. However, thanks to the overwhelmingly unbalanced ratio between women and men, most girls are left alone. Suddenly, the vibrator in her passage roars to life and wiggles its way out of her. She squeezes her thighs together and struggles to the front desk, where a nurse yanks the vibrating egg out of her vagina and ushers her into an examination room. Empty and throbbing, she looks around the room nervously, waiting for the doctor to finish writing his chart.
“I’m Dr. Andrew Dickens. Sit down, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?” On a chair, a handsome doctor in his mid-forties motions at the examination table.
She stays silent, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion, fidgeting.
He flashes her a warm smile. “I’ve been a doctor for fifteen years, ma’am. Nothing you say will surprise me.”
She blushes, pressing her thighs together.
He narrows his eyes deviously and smirks. “Your cunt or your ass, ma’am.”
Startled by his blunt question, she jumps out of her skin and stares at him like a fish out of water. “Sorry?”
“It’s usually one of those holes.” He grins and adds to her humiliation. “Or both.”
Shame swallows her whole. She squeezes her knees and looks at her feet. “My … my pussy, sir.”
“Legs on the stirrups, ma’am.” He waits for her to settle on the examination table before locking her legs in the holders. He slips on gloves and spreads her vulva with a speculum while she gasps. Her vagina has never felt so full. “What’s the nature of the object?”
Her rosy cheeks are on fire as the events yesterday flash in her mind. She mutters, “My panties, sir.”
“My, my, aren’t you naughty?” He fondles her hardened nub and watches her pearl pulse between his fingers. “How many, ma’am?”
“Just one, sir.”
He slips a long forceps inside her pink canal, moving to the deepest part of her passage and pulling out a wet lacy rag. Her face is burning at the sight of her soiled underwear—still dripping a mixture of her love juice and a random man’s urine. She looks down, avoiding his gaze. As he places the fabric on an emesis basin, the rancid stench catches his attention. He sniffs and frowns. “Why do your panties smell like piss, ma’am?”
She swallows a lump in her throat and prays for an aneurysm to end her shame.
“Ma’am?” He places the emesis basin down and pinches her clit.
The sudden pressure on her most sensitive bean is the last straw. She squeals, “It’s pee, sir!”
“And you kept it inside your cunt? Overnight? Do you know how stupid that was?” He punctuates each word with a thrash on her clit. Her hands claw at the cushion while her legs jerk helplessly in the stirrups.
With her pink tunnel opening up to her uterus and her legs locked and spread, she helplessly cries, “Sorry, sir! It won’t happen again!”
“No, you’re not sorry, but you will be.” He picks up the panties with forceps and brings the stinky fabric to her lips. “Open up.”
Her eyes widen and her head fervently shakes from side to side. “No, no, sir. Please.”
“Do you know how delicate your cunt is? You could have had toxic shock syndrome.” He presses the crumpled panties on her cherry opening. “Open up while I’m still asking nicely. Experience what you put your poor cunt through.”
Drinking urine is a skill every woman possesses, but most of the time, the yellow waste is fresh, warm, and straight from the source. She can’t even imagine what stale urine mixing with her love juice tastes like. But she doesn’t have a choice. Her mouth opens slightly. She holds her breath as he pushes the barely recognizable underwear into her plump lips. Immediately, the rancid smell punches her brain, making her light-headed.
He cuts a piece of rectangle gauze bandage to completely seal her mouth, much to her shock. “Do you have work today, ma’am?”
She nods, uncertain of his intention.
“Your empathy treatment will last until the end of the day. I’ll video call and check on your progress. After I’ve given my permission, you can eat and drink. Then, you’ll place your panties back in your mouth. I’ll write you a doctor’s note for your employer.” He scribbles something on the chart and cleanses her canal with a wash bottle. Fluttering jets of water from the nozzle tickles her tender walls, edging her before landing on an emesis basin beneath her bottom. Her muffled whimpers echo in her throat. The harder she grits her teeth, the more pronounced the rancid taste. But by the time he is done, her passage has become a weeping mess. “For your cunt, I will prescribe a chastity belt for a month, stopping you from other dangerous activities.”
Her eyes bulge from surprise. She shakes her head, only for the putrid fume to remind her of the futility of her resistance. She looks down demurely, catching the sight of her impossibly pink and pulsing clit. A heat wave washes over her and tenfolds its intensity when he retrieves a black leather chastity belt with a G-spot vibrator from the cabinet.
“It will vibrate for sixty seconds every ten minutes to remind you of your blunder.” Fastening the device on her, he smiles brightly and adjusts the straps so she can freely relieve bodily functions without help.
She blushes as the vibrator roars to life, thumping on her most sensitive spot, but the feet-curling pleasure doesn’t last long. Suddenly, the vibrator stops, leaving her inside throbbing in vain. She bites her lips, begging him with her eyes.
“It’s not a reward, ma’am.” He grins, pressing on the leather straps above her swollen clit, watching her crumble from the taunting pleasure. “The device will unlock for an hour every day to let you clean up. You’ll come back every Thursday for your follow-up appointment.”
(To be continue)