Emily the Model

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

London, 1894

"Ah, Emily my dear, so glad you could make it," Dr. Prott smiled as he motioned her into the room.

"Thank you, sir, of course," she stuttered, eyes briefly taking in the other six men in the room.

She felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks again and she swallowed nervously. She had to come, of course, she had no choice. She had said she would come, and so here she was, although she wished she could be anywhere but here. She had agreed to act as the demonstration model for gynecologist Dr. Prott's medical lecture, which meant...oh God...she would be... Her moment of terror was interrupted by Dr. Prott leading her over to the other men, who were standing casually in front of a dais.

"Gentlemen, this is Miss Emily Croft, who has graciously volunteered to be our model for the lecture. She has just turned eighteen and is in perfect health, as my most recent examination of her shows."

Emily nodded weakly; barely able to glance at the men. They seemed younger than Dr. Prott, doubtless doctors just starting out on their chosen profession. While she understood that doctors needed to learn from someone, she didn't know why that someone had to be her. She wished she had never agreed to this, what on earth had she been thinking? Well, she knew what she had been thinking, so desperate for Dr. Prott to finish her treatment for Hysteria she would have agreed to anything. A stray thought crossed her mind of traveling across England as Dr. Prott's model as he taught other doctors. She felt the room start to spin a bit as she felt faint, but one of the men asked her a question.

"So, Emily, I understand you are preparing to head off to University this fall?"

"Yes, yes sir," she nodded.

And so they stood for a few minutes, the men asking questions of her, her educational experiences, her chosen major, as if it were little more than a tea party. Even in the small circle she was acutely aware of how much taller they were than her, somehow the room feeling entirely too warm. None of them offered their names, so she just resorted to calling them sir when needed, but all of them used her name. Finally, just as she was beginning to relax a bit, Dr. Prott moved the event along.

"Emily, my dear, why don't you get changed and then we can continue our conversation?"

She nodded, expecting to leave the room, but instead was guided to an ornate carved wooden screen on the side dais. The screen only reached to her armpits, and she looked out to her audience. She swallowed nervously.

"Emily, I have hung a dress for you; please change into it."

With that, he turned to the other men and began talking to them. Emily turned and saw the dress he had left and the blood ran from her face. It was completely sheer, composed of a sheer white tunic and sheer white trousers. Her eyes widened as she glanced back to Dr. Prott. He was completely focused on the other men, and they on him. She swallowed again and steeled herself. She had known she would have to show her body, but now being faced with that fact was more horrifying than she could have imagined.

She closed her eyes gathered herself and then resolutely reached behind her back to begin undoing her dress, a simple conservative outfit that covered her from neck to wrists to ankles. She had just shrugged her blouse off her shoulders when she realized the voices had changed. She glanced over and found the men had seated themselves before her. The screen hid her body, but her face and shoulders were showing, allowing them to watch her undress. Emily tore her eyes away, instinctively covering herself behind the screen. She glanced back over to them, holding herself in her own embrace, as they sat there relaxed and impassive.

"Move along now dear, be a good girl," Dr. Prott nodded, snapping her out of her lethargy.

She nodded, blushing furiously as she lowered her blouse. She carefully hung it up, trying to buy some time, her mind whirling in fear and confusion. Her eyes caught on the men sitting there, watching, as she tried to decide if she should take off her bodice or her dress next.

"Do you need assistance?" Dr. Prott asked kindly, and she squealed a no to him, furiously shaking her head.

Emily gathered herself again and reached back to unlace her bodice. She paused for a moment before pulling it from her body, feeling the cooling air on her bare breasts. She hung the item up as best she could, one arm covering her chest. She couldn't resist a glance back at the men, as if hoping this was all a terrible dream. They were still there and she immediately looked away. Using only one hand, she reached down and began to lower the zipper on her dress. Her focus was interrupted by a question.

"Do you ride horses, Emily?"

"Y...yes sir," she smiled weakly, her aristocratic upbringing forcing her to smile as she faced him.

Another man commented and they turned to each other, giving her a moment to herself. The zipper opened and her dress fell to the floor with a soft noise, leaving her in only her sandals and bloomers.

"How many horses do you own?"

"I...I have three, sir."

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned to his companions. Emily took a calming breath and ducked down to pick up her dress, noticing that the screen did not cover the bottom six inches of her legs. A new flush ran over her as she realized her bare, athletic calves were now on display to these men. She fumbled hanging up the dress, hampered by only using one hand and more questions from her audience. She finally got it secured and paused again, her hand seemingly unwilling to undo the tie to her bloomers. A vocal prod from Dr. Prott nudged her forward and she pulled the knot out, helplessly glancing over to her audience as her bloomers settled at her ankles, her hand instinctively covering herself. She stared down at her knickers as she stepped out of them, now completely naked. Her heart in her throat, glanced over the screen to her audience, quietly watching her.

Emily finally forced herself to crouch down, hiding behind the wooden screen, a new flash of alarm as she realized that there were countless tiny gaps in the wood. Her mind seized in confusion as she tried to figure out which hand to remove from covering her body in order to pick up her unmentionables. Encouragement from Dr. Prott moved her along and she quickly removed her hand from between her legs and picked them up, clutching them to her center. She couldn't help but glance at the men again, still sitting quietly and watching her. With all the power she could muster, she tossed her bloomers onto the hook and covered herself again. She held her naked body, her eyes staring sightless at white, sheer blouse she was supposed to don.

"Come along now dear, put it on, we have to get moving."

She glanced back at him with a curt nod, unable to force a smile on her face. Swallowing again, she pried her arm away from her breasts and took the trousers from the hanger. Urging herself forward, she stepped into them as quickly as she could. Her haste almost led to her downfall as she lost her balance for a moment, which would have resulted in her sprawling naked in front of them. Her impeccable balance saved her, and she quickly recovered and pulled the diaphanous garment up over her hips. Her hand, occupied with tying it off, left her breasts uncovered as her eyes flitted over to the men. Her hands returned to cover herself for a moment as she paused.

A nod at Dr. Prott got her moving again, and she turned and slipped on the tunic. A glance down her body confirmed what she already knew, that the delicate fabric left her body completely on display. Her firm pink nipples jutted out from her ripe white breasts. The room was too hot, the flush from her skin burning up her neck, and she quickly clamped an arm over her body again. She regretted having shaved all her hair off her womanhood, leaving her completely exposed. She distracted herself for a moment to debate on why she had complied with Dr. Prott's directions to shave herself.

"Marvelous, my dear. Good girl," smiled Dr. Prott as he mounted the dais. Emily shrunk in alarm, her arms struggling to cover herself. She had, of course, been naked in front of him before, but now it seemed completely terrifying. "Come now, be a good girl," he smiled, holding out his hand.

Her eyes darted between his hand and his expectant face. Which hand should she offer, the one covering her breasts or her crotch? The answer was as obvious as it was frightening; she had to take his hand with her left. She reached out, in fits and starts, before finally prying it off of her mons pubis, her right hand instantly dropping from her breasts to take its place.

"Good girl," Dr. Prott smiled reassuringly. "Come along." He tugged her hand lightly and her traitorous feet finally agreed, taking halting steps out from behind the screen to the view of the men. "Gentlemen, may I present again our lovely model for the afternoon, Emily Croft."

Her mind froze as she stood in front of them as they smiled at her, their eyes raking up and down her exposed body. Her knees pressed tightly together, one hand in front of her forming the only coverage other than the transparent lace of her clothes. A tug of her hand awoke her, and she looked at Dr. Prott, finally realizing he was talking to her.

"Give them a wave, dear," he smiled, "be a good girl."

She turned back to the men in alarm, forcing a small smile on her face. She summoned her courage and pulled her hand from her body to wave at the men. Dr. Prott released her hand and stepped down, leaving her alone and on display. Elevated as she was, she couldn't help but feel their eyes on her. Her modesty protested and her hands once again sought to cover herself, half turning from the men.

"No, no my dear," Dr. Prott smiled reassuringly as he returned to her side. "This won't do. Be a good girl."

He repositioned her so that she was facing her audience, hands folded together over her belly. Dr. Prott returned to the men and she fought the urge to cover herself again, knowing it was pointless. Dr. Prott continued to talk, pointing out the secondary sexual characteristics of the female body. Her mind drifted in and out as she stood there, only perceiving snippets of his lecture, sometimes responding to his directions.

"Emily, as you can see, has a well developed bosom...proves to be bit of a hindrance in athletic actively as they bounce around...other women may have smaller breasts, they are still fully capable of producing milk for their young...we can notice her well defined hips, wide for ease of child bearing. If you could turn around for us, dear. Now Emily is quite active and as you can see...a well proportioned gluteus maximus...legs are quite firm...face forward again...Emily has done us the favor of removing her hair to allow us a clear view. When you have regular clients, I recommend you ask them to do the same prior to their appointment."

Emily felt like she was in a dream, naked and on display before fully dressed strangers as they talked about her body. She stood still before them as Dr. Prott continued to talk, a gentle, confused smile on her face, her legs trembling. The men began asking her questions, slightly racier than before, asking her when her breasts started to develop and whether she practiced the loathful sin of self pleasure. The conversation was polite, and she answered them as best she could, Dr. Prott occasionally offering clarifications. She became vaguely aware that her heart had stopped racing and the blush seemed to have faded from her face.

She caught herself in the mirror, a naked woman on display, like some Parisian whore. Her eyes drifted over the men as they sat below her, the image taking root in her mind. A whore whom they had bought for their amusement. An impure thought about one of the men drifted into her mind before she shooed it away, but soon it came back. Lewd thoughts began to fill her head and she wondered what the men looked like underneath their clothes. She often wondered about this, and Dr. Prott had told her that curiosity and even desire for the opposite sex was normal, but still it felt naughty. She became aware of just how aroused she was, similar to how she felt as she laid alone in her bed, trying to fight off the urge to touch herself. She looked over to the clean cut young man, who was paying close attention to Dr. Prott, and wondered how he would approach her in a sexual manner. Goodness she was aroused.

Her daydreaming was interrupted by Dr. Prott motioning her down. He led her to a chair and she sat. It was time for the men to practice an examination. Even though her top was completely sheer, she still felt a rush as she pulled it over her head, looking up at the men. Dr. Prott demonstrated how to take her pulse and then listen to her heart. One by one the men took their turns, first taking her pulse, then leaning their heads forward, placing their ear on her chest, their cold hands cupping her breast as they listened to her heart. Emily bravely tried to stifle her twitches, tried her best to remain calm and still, knowing far more was to come. Her body, however, was alive, her breasts singing with every touch, no matter how clinical. Several of the later men commented that they were getting much higher pulse readings than Dr. Prott had.

Once the men had finished, Dr. Prott bid her to rise. Emily's heart leapt into her throat as she he started the next portion of the exam. He asked her remove her bottoms, leaving her completely naked. She looked around at the men surrounding her, swallowed and summoned her courage before pushing the gossamer fabric down her legs. She stood, momentarily confused, holding the garment in front of her before one of the men gracefully held out his hand and she gave it to him. A few adjustments were made to the chair, and when she turned around she saw that it had been converted to table bed.

Dr. Prott had her crawl up on the bed and positioned her with her face looking down through a padded hole, her bottom up in the air. Emily shivered at the thought of how exposed she was, only to have Dr. Prott gently arrange her so that her knees were now well apart and on the edges of the bed. Dr. Prott continued his lecture on female anatomy and then paused.

"Emily, dear, could you reach back please? Good girl, now put your hands on your bottom and spread yourself. Good girl."

She cringed at the sight she must have been presenting the men, wondering if they were leering at the way she was presenting herself. All she could do was stare at the carpet and listen as Dr. Prott pointed out her rectum, her labia, her wet vagina.

"Now gentlemen, as you can see, Emily is quite wet down here. This lubrication is formed naturally when a woman is aroused to help the male penis penetrate her."

"But why is she wet now?"

"Excellent question. Emily, are you aroused now?" Dr. Prott asked as he patted her bottom.

Emily's stomach clenched at the thought, words caught in her throat, a weighty silence filling the room.

"Yes, dear I know, it's okay to admit it."

She struggled again, humiliation burning through her, finally just nodding with a squeak.

"It is, gentlemen a simple female reaction that generally cannot be avoided. It is something you should be aware of, as most your patients may well have similar reactions. The exposure, the touch, no matter how sterile, can cause the baser instincts to override normal composure. However, every patient is different. The key is to sympathize with your patient to minimize their embarrassment, which is why having such a good girl as a model is so valuable. And so, if we..."

Emily lost the next words completely as a finger was dragged up her slit, causing a moan to slip out of her throat. Her eyes widened as she heard Dr. Prott describing her wetness, now clearly visible on his finger, praising her apparently healthy womanhood. Her blood ran cold as he instructed the other doctors to sample her themselves. And so they did, finger after unseen finger running up her, sometimes after a pause, sometimes following quickly. The inability to see them left her unprepared, causing her to buck with each touch, even as Dr. Prott patted her bottom reassuringly. Finally the erotic torture ended, leaving her gasping for air. Dr. Prott tapped her wrists and she realized she was still holding herself open. She released her grip on her cheeks and he asked her to get on her back.

A few more adjustments were made to the bed, now with an inclined back, leaving her sitting somewhat upright before the men. Beams swung out from beneath the bed, and her heart sank as she recognized their purpose. A few tussles later and the leg beams were secured in place, Dr. Prott explaining the procedure as he placed her legs in the stirrups, leaving her spread wide. She looked down across her body, through the valley of her legs at the men, staring approvingly at her naked body. Dr. Prott continued his lecture from her waist, leaving the men an unfettered view of her, all the while she sat passively, trying to avoid reaching down with her own hands and finishing what the men had started. She was jolted out her daze by Dr. Prott announcing that the next step was the breast exam.

He made another adjustment to the bench, lowering it flat, but leaving her legs still in the stirrups. She looked up as the men gathered around, jumping as Dr. Prott took her breast in his hand and began his examination. She was used to these examinations, as she had them done every six months during her appointments, and nightly in her own room. Dr. Prott was very clear that if lumps in her breasts went undetected, she could get ill, and so she spent her time in bed before sleeping doing to requisite breast exam as he had taught her, then spent the rest of the night trying to fight the fires that the exam had aroused in her.

She lay there, passively, as he pressed on her breast with two fingers, slowly moving around her orb and getting closer to her nipple. Her breath became shorter as her hips started to wiggle of their own volition. This had always been embarrassing enough when only Dr. Prott was present, but now with an audience it was even more so. He spoke to the men as he worked, explaining his technique, while he slowly worked closer and closer to her nipple. Then, finally, he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled them softly for a while to check them, and even though she was ready, she couldn't stifle a moan.

"And so, gentlemen, please practice. She has, of course, two breasts, so one of you can be on each side, but do be sure to practice on each side."

Two men came up to her sides and began to fondle her breasts as Dr. Prott had shown. Their inexperience showed, as sometimes they pressed too hard and other times not hard enough. Emily was lost in a blizzard of arousal, made worse by the men asking her about their technique, her gasping responses highlighting her arousal. Her hands drummed helplessly on the bed as they worked, her hips now thrusting in futile need.

Emily became aware of Dr. Prott's new position when she felt him pulling her lower lips open. Her dazed eyes shot down to find that he was conducting the final part of the examination, her treatment to prevent hysteria, while the other two men methodically examined her breasts. Dr. Prott gave a bit of a lecture about her anatomy while holding her open for a few minutes and then turned back to her.

"Emily, dear, I know you're trying to be a good girl, but as you see we haven't much time to waste with these fine gentlemen. As you know, you do get...excited during your therapy, and alone I can handle it, but today I am going to strap you down so that we can get a good look, right? Good girl."