Submitting to the Doctor: Her Erotic Medical Exam

She must submit to the doctor, because her Master wishes it...
Michelle Marshall is a Sub. She trusts her Master . When her Master books her a gynecological exam, she thinks that it will just be an ordinary check up. But she couldn't be more wrong.

Dr. Pike tells her that her Master has left him very specific instructions...

Excerpt

A tall doctor strode into the room. His steps were long and confident, and I was immediately intrigued by him. His body was large, and it was obvious to me he was a muscular man. Not merely athletic, but strong. His clothes fit well in that rarely-seen way; his shoulders were broad and filled out the white doctor’s coat superbly. His hands were large, nearly obscuring the entire clipboard that he cradled. His jaw looked as though it were drawn with black felt tip, powerful and authoritative. His face was softer, almost pretty, almost girlish, with large eyes and a small mouth that seemed at odds with his square chin.

He was very intriguing to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him while he walked to the exam table and perched himself on its edge. A thought flitted through my mind: What did he look like naked? That was definitely an interesting thought. Such a hard body… it was the kind of thing that would just make me want to reach out and touch it.

He flipped through the sheets on my clipboard for a moment, and I saw that he was sporting a five o’clock shadow. I wondered idly if his beard grew particularly quickly, or if he shaved before bed to get the look. After all, it was only eleven in the morning.

His hair wasn’t neat, but wasn’t messy. It lay somewhere in between. He, no doubt, was a ruffler. Some men just liked to run their fingers through their hair.

“Ms. Marshall, I’m Dr. Russell Pike. Um, it looks like you are here for a full exam this morning.” He looked at me, his eyes turning hard.

“Um, yes, that’s right,” I squeaked, nodding.

“I can also see by your chart that someone else called in your appointment for you.” He looked back down at the chart, nodded, then looked back up at me. “A Mr. Matthew Stone. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. That was Master. I felt a small prick of embarrassment that a man had called in for my gynecological exam, and desperately hoped that my cheeks weren’t turning red.

“He seems to have left some very… specific instructions,” the doctor continued.

“Oh?” I asked, feeling a surge of warmth in my face. My heartbeat quickened and I began to breathe a little more quickly. “I, um, don’t know about that.”

“Is Mr. Stone your regular doctor?”

This time, my cheeks burned. “Um, well, no, he’s, uh—”

“He’s your…?” the doctor prompted.

“My Master,” I whispered, looking down at the ground.

“I see.” Dr. Pike replied. A short silence settled between us before he spoke again. “That explains a lot, such as why he asked me to make sure that you were wearing a butt plug when you arrived here.”

I bit my lip and winced, feeling the prick of embarrassment and shame turn to a million stings. Goose bumps erupted on the tops of my arms and I shivered involuntarily.

“So, Ms. Marshall,” Dr. Pike said, and I heard something new in his voice.