Chapter Four: ...Doctor, Doctor Proctosis I Presume
My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the door opening and a new voice entering the room with the secretary's. Self-consciousness swept through me again, but I kept my eyes in the corner pretending to be invisible, not wishing to offend. I had come to realize, though I was laden with shame from being publicly humiliated all my life, I enjoyed the sensations caused by such experience. I thrilled to the spectacle of public humiliation. The feeling of strangers staring at me, their eyes crawling over my body, sent goose bumps and shivers up my spine. I often trembled to the point of appearing in dance, which guaranteed a smile from everyone.
I felt a hand roaming the cheeks of my ass. It was a cold, brisk and sure paw. It was small, with short fingers and nails, and grabbed handfuls of cheek, squeezed with little pressure and moved on. I listened to the voices discussing parts of my anatomy. Most of their comments were crude compliments, meant to belittle, I'm sure. They came with bites, and their severe accuracy humiliated me.
The secretary ordered me to turn and I came to see the top of someone's blond head of hair. She then ordered me to proceed with the nurse to the doctor's office. I then felt the nurse's finger slip through the ring of my panties and pull gently, the strings pulling tight, my balls lifting with the material. My cock actually floated in its strange prison as I began the weirdest journey of my life.
While moving I saw nothing but walls and ceiling. I felt like a freshly plucked flower as I followed the nurse's pull out of the door and into the hall. I was mortified silly and even my thoughts stammered. I was terrified by my submission and couldn't believe I was allowing this to happen. The blond was leading me into and down the hall of a major company. I was stark naked and didn't even attempt to cover myself, to hide my nudity. Under great pressure my hands stayed obediently at my sides, but twitched nervously as I walked with my head up, resting on its platter, visible to all. I had no idea men went through so much to find female companionship, or just hold down a job.
As we moved, I was compelled to contemplate the feelings generated by the material against my organ. When the material stretched, my penis felt as if it were floating on a bed of clouds. My penis vibrated against the delicate material and it drove me out of my mind with nail-biting sensuality, sensations I'd gladly suffer and die for. I was overly excited by all that was happening and the more shame I swallowed, the more rigid he became. Oh! How I wanted to grab my cock and jag-off right there and then for the women. I wanted to cum for them and for myself, while walking in the corridor. Like sowing a garden I'd send my seeds out in every direction, hoping to find an egg.
Pulled forward by the root of my being I was guided into an elevator. There were four female occupants who moved aside to allow me room. They were amused by my collar and strange garb, and their overly animated conversation turned immediately to me. Their disgusting use of crude words in describing parts of my body was shocking and brought tears to my eyes. All I was bold enough to do was continue shivering, while looking up at the ceiling and sniveling. I couldn't even wipe my tears if allowed. While my behind received more than its share of slaps and pinches, my penis received a considerable amount of close inspection. Along with wide eyes came pokes jabs and scrapes from the tips of long nails. Soon my panties were so wet the insides of my thighs to my knees were sopping, and don't think the ladies didn't notice.
It was strange being able to see only the tops of heads and faces without the bodies. But the harshest thing about the collar was not being able to see myself. I tried looking nowhere, but my eyes ran from failure to failure. I couldn't help straining to see the ladies as they pointed out and discussed different parts of my anatomy with each other. I was not in the room with them, and my body was no longer mine. As proof, though my hands were available, they did nothing in contradiction to those around me.
Trembling noticeably and mortified silly, I followed the nurse from the elevator. I was pulled from a cavern of hands and spite that followed my exit. We turned down a wide corridor lined with doors, most opened. She had a good hold of the panties' ring and was pulling up as hard as she could. The material must have been indestructible, because it took the abuse of her yanks more easily than my testicles did. Seemed she was intent at keeping me on my toes. Everyone we passed stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at me; heads were actually popping out of office doors. Between the tops of so many faces and the growing noise, I felt expected, and by the way the nurse paraded me about, it seemed almost staged. Every woman laughed, pointed and laughed again and again, and was not shy with their most vulgar comments. With an air of professionalism the nurse led me through a thin mob, to the doctor's door and we entered. Doctor Proctosis was waiting for me.
We found the doctor standing by a tall lab stool, reading from a folder. Sheepishly, I was moved to stand before her. The room was another weirdly modern office, fitted with computers and monitors. There was more electronics then I'd ever seen, or could understand. But there was also an old style roller desk to one side, a metal examination table to another, and an uncomfortable looking bed. Further, there were glass cabinets stuffed with red-cross items, probably medicines, remedies and drugs; even instruments and such. In the center of the room was a shiny metal pole that came up from the floor about three feet. Its end was finished with metal strips, coils that helped it look like a work of art. I was hot with shame, red as a beet and I couldn't stop the tears, nor quell the excitement.
"Ah ha, this must be Joey," the doctor said in a loud deep voice, putting down the folder. Dr. Proctosis was a short woman about forty. She had short brown hair and bloodshot brown eyes. She wore sequin studded black-rimmed glasses and dressed in a long white lab coat. A stethoscope hung from around her neck and she was smiling at me, watching me shiver as she picked up a pair of latex gloves and began stretching one over a hand. She worked them onto her hands, letting each one snap in place. Then with complete detachment she stepped up to me, her face disappearing under my collar, and she pulled my panties down from around my waist. She rolled them down around my thighs out of the way, then she grabbed my entire organ. She took me balls and all in her left hand and my body momentarily curled into itself, but I forced my hands to stay put. My juices gave the doctor's grip some problem, but she had a very sure grasp and soon had me under control. The doctor worked on my organ for a good long time, twisting and adjusting her clutch. Once confident of her hold, she squeezed tighter.