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It is not easy to have a good GP assigned under the Italian National Health Service, so when my wife Cristina invited me to join Dr. Salaretti, I seriously considered changing my retiring old-fashioned doctor, Dr. Bulzoni.
My only resistance was that Dr. Salaretti was a woman, and I told Cristina I wasn't sure I would be willing to share my private health issues with her.
She laughed about this uneasiness; after all, she had, for most of her life, a male doctor as her GP, and she told me, almost annoyed, that competency should be the priority in these matters over gender.
I couldn't find anything to object to her thinking, so I asked to be added to the list of Dr.Salaretti's patients.
I went for the initial visit, and I couldn't help assessing her from a sexual point of view. She was a good-looking woman, in her early thirties, with honey blond straight hair, tied in a ponytail, blue piercing eyes, fair skin, and below the white doctor coat I could guess generous, high-standing breasts.
I made these observations while she asked me about my medical history, with precise, professional questions.
I thought there was no way she could guess my thoughts until she stopped talking and abruptly asked with a severe tone if I had anything I wished to add.
Her eyes were piercing me in such a way that I immediately realized how inappropriate were my evaluations and I felt she had guessed them and was rather annoyed.
Of course, there was no way she could read my mind, and, blushing slightly, I told her that I had nothing to say.
"Very well, goodbye then. You can leave," she said dismissing me, rather unceremoniously.
At home, my wife asked my impression of Dr. Salaretti, and I confirmed that she seemed a very conscious professional and that switching to her seemed a good idea.
"Even if she is a young woman...and a good-looking one!" she commented, ironically.
"I didn't notice if she was good-looking or not," I lied - still feeling the sting of the doctor's reaction.
Cristina recorded my answer with a bemused expression, and this ended our conversation for the day.
About a month later, I had to return to get some prescriptions from the doctor.
At that time, my wife came with me because we were on our way to do some shopping downtown.
When we got into her room, she greeted her smiling warmly, but she was much colder with me as if she still remembered my inappropriateness.
She also pointed out to me, rather piqued, that it would have been sufficient to send her an e-mail with the request for the prescription.
Anyway, she prepared it and was handing it to me, when, once again, she raised her stern gaze at me.
"Wait...-she said -when did you have your last prostate checkup?"
I blushed and began to mumble an answer.
"I don't remember...maybe a couple of years ago..."
"I don't have any reports in your file..." observed the doctor.
"I think it's much longer, you don't like that test...", added my wife, chuckling.
"I surely need to have one to complete your initial health assessment", concluded the doctor.
"Well, yes, you can prepare a prescription for me..." I replied, trying to close quickly the subject.
"There is no need for a prescription, we can do the checkup right now, here."
"But..." I objected.
"Can you perform it straightaway, Dr.Salaretti?" asked Cristina.
"A manual probing of the prostrate is not that complicated, Mrs.Beddini", she explained smiling.
"Then it would be very helpful to skip the lengthy process of another visit and have it done at once", declared my wife.
I felt that, by performing that private control on me the doctor wanted to punish me for my attitude on the previous visit, and at the same time Cristina wanted to make her point clear that a female doctor was entitled to perform the same controls as a male one.
"Get on the couch, drop your underpants and underwear, and spread your legs."
"Actually..." I tried to object.
"Let's not waste time!" commented my wife.
"Well, I think you can wait for me outside", I suggested to her, resigned now to have it done, but at the same time finding the idea of submitting to the test in front of Cristina an additional, unnecessary, humiliation.
"Why? Of course, she needs to stay! We might need her help", objected the doctor, while she put on rubber gloves and sprayed gel on them.
I was confused, uncertain between the shame of being examined like that by the doctor, and the doubt that she was playing with me, at the same time unable to find a logical objection to what she had presented to me as a professional scruple. My wife's attitude, who supported the doctor, left me with no choice.
I still didn't know why she had to stay to watch Dr. Salaretti stick her finger into my asshole.
Begrudgingly but obediently, I climbed onto the clinic bed, dropped my underpants and underwear, and opened my legs.
"Spread your thighs a little more, " ordered the doctor.
My wife had never seen me like this. I turned to her, and she was looking intently at my exposed orifice.
"From the way you're acting, it looks like you never had this exam," commented the doctor, in a somewhat ironic tone, that Cristina seemed to find funny.
I had kept my eyes down to that point, only to raise them, and meet the doctor's cold gaze on me.
Just then I felt the gloved finger, covered in the icy gel, penetrate my anus.
"There doesn't seem to be anything there, but we'd better check it thoroughly," she said, and at that moment I felt a second finger make its way in, with difficulty, and penetrate me deeply.
"He has a nice tight little hole," commented the doctor to my wife, who simply nodded with a certain pride.
"Don't move," she ordered, slipping her fingers out, leaving me with the humiliating feeling of being left open, unable to control my sphincter muscles.
I saw her open a cabinet, and pull out a rubber rod that started tight, widened, and then narrowed again, ending in a flat disk.
She covered it with a generous amount of gel and, without giving me time to react, slipped it inside in between my buttocks.
I let go of a cry of pain and at the same time of mortification at that violation.
"He has to enlarge it, that little hole...we will repeat the visit in a month, in the meantime he has to wear this anal dilator as often as possible, let's say every day, except when you have to evacuate - she explained, addressing initially my wife, and then looking sternly at me. Do you understand, Mr. Beddini?"
Then Dr. Salaretti turned again to address my wife.
"Do you mind being in charge of this, Mrs. Beddini? I am sorry to bother you, but sometimes patients are sloppy in following their doctor's instructions.
You should keep a record of the occasions when Mr. Beddini pulls out the plug and make sure it is for the shortest possible time.
Let's say he must ask permission from you to do it, and of course, you should feel free to deny it if you feel he is just trying to get unnecessary relief.
I am sorry to bother you, Mrs Beddini..."
"No doctor, I appreciate your concern, it's no bother at all. I can take charge of my husband."
