Clinical Trials Pt 03 Good Girl

The day of my next appointment with the asshole doctor was here and I was ready. I had a good track record of getting the men I wanted but I hadn’t left anything to chance with this one. This guy wanted to toy with me, play with me, deny me. He wanted to hear me beg. And this sicko clearly just got off on the control. Well, I wasn’t so easily controlled. He didn’t realize that this toy had her own arsenal and I was ready for battle.

For conquests like this, I made sure to do my hair and makeup just so. My nails were manicured, my skin extra moisturized. My freshly waxed pussy was adorned with my favorite pair of panties. I’d eaten sweet fruits and doubled up on my alkalized water in the days prior, a trick I learned to enhance my natural flavors. I even added my super secret weapon - a mist of my loveliest perfume to the corners of my inner thighs. Nothing could stop me when I was in challenge mode. I was a goddess of beauty. I was a god of war. And this asshole didn’t stand a fucking chance.

I arrived a few minutes late, something I hadn’t intended, and descended the quick steps down to the garden-level office. His door was shut but I could hear him chatting, talking happily with someone, maybe on the phone. I waited in the narrow hallway, shifting my weight from side to side, absentmindedly checking my text messages. I debated on whether to knock. It was about 10 minutes past our appointment time after all. Did I get something wrong?

I was re-reading our emails to confirm when the door flew wide open and a shockingly beautiful woman followed, her smile and eyes were elegant and responsive to his warm pleasantries. They held each other’s hands in a friendly clutch and their goodbyes were effusive and intimate. She left without even noticing me leaning against the wall.

“Greta!” he said, startled. “I didn’t see you there!” His hand reached out to me and his tone carried the warmth of the conversation he’d just come from. I hesitantly let him lead me into his office. He settled in his office chair as I took a seat awkwardly on the only spot offered to me, the edge of the examination table. I pulled nervously at the hem of my dress.

“So!” he was animated and his smile actually seemed…genuine? “How did it go this week? Any changes that you noticed?”

I stammered for a moment. I was confused. Where was that cold, calculating doctor? How could someone like him charm such a beautiful woman like that? Had he actually done and said all those things to me last week?

My mind fuzzed with self doubt. Maybe he was actually some kind of split personality psycho? Or maybe it was me finally just losing it? Was I the psycho? My dress suddenly felt too short and my makeup too done. I felt obvious. Painted up. Like a little girl wearing her mom’s heels and expired blush.

“I- I… I’ve had an okay week, it’s been fine.” I crossed my legs and avoided eye contact.

“Fine? Well, that’s certainly so much better to hear than what you were reporting on your intake form. Would you say the first treatment helped you then?”

I thought about his “treatment”- the restraints, the fingering, the SPECULUM. In what universe were those treatments?? I scoffed openly and rolled my eyes. There was just no way these treatments were ok. He was clearly violating laws, protocols, and now he was trying to fucking gaslight me into thinking he was helping me. I get it now, asshole. I reassured myself that I was definitely right. He was just like any other dude, just wanted to get his rocks off at the expense of some dumb girl. That beautiful woman just probably didn’t understand what she was clearly victim to, too. I’ll bet he did the same thing to her, pushed his fingers into her and violated her. Grabbed her breasts and squeezed until she was hurting. And hers were truly beautiful breasts. And this guy got to fucking fondle them!

A tickle of wet trickled from my pussy and interrupted my thoughts. My anger at him turned into utter disgust with myself, but my original mission was renewed.

“Greta, I can’t really help you if you don’t communicate with me, so I’m hoping you can let me know what’s going on in that head of yours a bit more. Did the treatment help? You seem…upset about something.”

He stood up and approached the table, softly guiding my legs into the stirrups again. Alright asshole, here we go. This was it, my time to shine. I just needed him to quit the games and fuck me already, let me get off good and hard. Pat me on my head and send me back out into the world.

My short dress did nothing to cover me with my legs spread open in the stirrups. I propped myself up to look directly at him, letting the thin strap of my dress fall casually off my shoulder. My eyes were inviting. They were daring him to make a move.

“You probably need to restrain me again, doctor, if today’s going to be anything like last week.” This time it was my turn to smirk, smug and arrogant, my eyebrow raised.

He paused and studied my face. “No, Greta,” he said coolly. “No need to restrain you for today’s treatment.” He pulled a blanket hanging off the back of his chair and draped it over my lap. “I also don’t need you to undress today so we’ll use this to keep you covered. Take your panties off though please.”

I worked my panties down my legs and off my ankles from under the blanket. Maybe my forwardness was too much for him. Maybe he had to put the blanket up to fuck me. He probably couldn’t get it up with a willing participant, had no idea what to even do with an actually consensual invitation. That’s ok, dude. Whatever your twisted dick needs. I knew my pretty and pampered pussy would put him over the edge. I put my legs back in the stirrups and laid back with a smile.

Once again on his little stool, crouched between my legs with his warm breath inches away from my skin, I felt him tightly buckle two straps around my upper thighs. I heard him from the other side of the blanket as he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. I knew those sounds well, a man getting worked up, trying to keep his composure. He was probably twitching in his pants right about now. I slowly rocked my hips, just ever so slightly. I anticipated hearing his zipper at any moment.

The doctor instead got up and opened the window, exposing the room to the street just outside. Feet shuffled by at different paces. If anyone bent down, stopped to pick up a coin, they’d see me, legs spread wide, my pussy practically framed dead center by the window.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to be unprofessional but… are you wearing perfume or something?” He wafted his hand at his face and took a few breaths at the open window.

My ears burned hot and I felt the flush creep into my cheeks. I hate when my body does this. It always betrays me. I always get too wet when I’m horny, cry too easily when I’m upset, and I always blush deeply when I feel shame. Red enough to be mistaken for a sunburn even.

“Ye- yes, maybe just a little left over from last night or something.” That feeling of looking obvious turned into a full blown feeling of exposure. “I’m a little worried about someone seeing me from outside though.”

“No one will look at you,” he said tersely and annoyed. “That perfume gives me a headache so I’ll have to keep the window open to continue. Please make sure to wash yourself in the future though. I need to work near intimate parts of your body and would appreciate the courtesy.”

He carried a small toolbox with him back to the table and resumed his seat on the other side of the blanket. He knocked my knees out further with impatience.

“I’m- I’m sorry, doctor. Really.” I could hear the smallness of my voice.

He sighed. “Greta, why did you come to see me?” He rummaged through the box, the metal chiming against what sounded like delicate instruments, much like at the dentist’s office.

Was this a trick question? “You- you know why I’ve come to see you…I came here for the same reason every other woman has to come here.”

“Yes we both know you have uncontrollable urges and poor impulse control. That all you’re ever doing is either getting fucked or thinking about getting fucked. That is abundantly clear. What I’m asking is, why did you come here TODAY?”

My face fell because I immediately knew and didn’t like the answer.

“Tell me. Say it out loud. You need to hear yourself say it.”

My eyes welled up. I swallowed hard and squeezed them shut.

“I wanted to get fucked,” I said meekly.

“What was that? Say it louder, Greta.”

I couldn’t help but fully concede. He was right, he was absolutely right. “To get fucked, doctor. I wanted you to fuck me.”

“Good girl. Saying it and owning it is an important step. This is your addiction, and maybe you see it a little better now. Today you’re going to feel some pinching while I get us set up, but this is going to help you. Are you going to accept my help, continue to be a good girl? I will not be fucking you, to make sure that’s clear. That would be a gross violation of my role.”

Why was I like this? I’d slipped so easily without even realizing it. Why was everything about sex for me? I would probably be an asshole too if I had to constantly deal with women like me all day. How exhausting. I really did need his help.

“Yes, Doctor,” I said through my tears. “Please help me. I’ll be a good girl.”