Clinical Trials Pt 01 The Intake

"Ok, let's get you up here. You can put your clothes on the chair in the corner." He patted the examination table and gestured over his clipboard and spectacles.

I froze. "...Like, no clothes? Now?" I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do.

He smiled and softened his eyes. "Yeah, go ahead and get undressed so we can start helping you feel better. It won't take long."

I quickly looked around the small office, which was crowded by an old desk and surrounded by shelves of dusty medical books. The table sat facing the only window, looking out into the street. I could see people's feet shuffling past just outside. It didn't exactly feel like a doctor's office...but he was supposedly one of the best?

I turned myself away from him and the window to take off my dress, to protect a little modesty before I laid myself out over the table. I crossed my arms over my chest and my legs dangled awkwardly off the edge.

"We don't need these either." He hooked his finger into my underwear and pulled them off me, startling me into lifting myself so he could get them down.

The cold air of the musty office hit my exposed skin and gave me goosebumps.

He pulled stirrups from under the table and maneuvered to the edge, standing between me and the window. "Don't worry, no one can see you out there." His voice was smooth and calming, assured. He guided my legs into the soft leather and gently opened my knees as he crouched on a rolling stool.

I closed my eyes to block out the feeling of a stranger's face between my thighs.

"Oh, yes. I see what you're saying. Wow, you surely must be uncomfortable walking around like this all day. Not the tightest I've ever seen but you certainly could do with some release. That's okay. We're here to get you fixed up."

I could hear him writing on his notepad. I could feel... is that maybe his breath? I flushed fast and red hoping I'd showered well enough. I hadn't really thought this through before coming here like I should have.

"So this is what needs to happen." He stood abruptly and came around to my side. Without a warning he placed his hand firmly on my chest and pressed deeply. I struggled to fully expand my lungs as I tried to gather my words to protest.

But before I could say anything he started massaging my labia with his other hand. "No no. You're fine." He laughed a little at my stifled words as he worked his fingers up and down my lips, circling my clitoris.

"You need to get warmed up and get your blood flowing. I'll hold you down like this to help keep you still. But you need to focus on pushing your breath and your blood to all those tense muscles. We have to tense them up as much as possible to do the release. Can you do that for me? How's that blood flow?"

I looked up at him hoping to at least catch his eyes as I nodded anxiously. I wanted to see those soft eyes again for reassurance, that this was all going to be ok and he did this everyday.

But he was focused on my labia, watching as he slowly spread me and circled me, rhythmically and methodically.

My head started to get fuzzy. I closed my eyes and forgot for a moment I was in his office.

"My dear, this is your problem. You'll have to work on this yourself to get better long term. I haven't even really touched you and you're already very worked up. That shouldn't be happening so fast." I felt him slip his finger inside me as he continued to massage.

"There's so much wetness here. You're very....sexually active, aren't you." He continued massaging and slipping his finger, now two fingers, in and out of me, paced and timed like a metronome.

I couldn't tell if he was asking me a question. I murmured a little and realized at some point I'd started holding his forearm bearing down on my chest. I tried to fight back on the urges building up in me. He was right, my body was so desperate and hungry from just this little procedure.

"How many sexual partners have you had that have penetrated you vaginally? More than 5?"

He looked down at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. His massage continued to build in pace and pressure. I couldn't meet his eyes, only quickly nodded. I could hear the slick sounds of my pussy and felt my cheeks burn uncomfortably.

"More than 10 then?" I nodded again, shutting my eyes tight trying to stay focused as he worked my increasingly wet lips and hole.

"Hmm. More than...20? Do you even know?" I winced a little. I didn't know, but it was far more than 20. I tried to work out how many men I'd fucked over the years, averaging out and doing the math, but an orgasm was starting to build in me and I didn't know where to focus. I was so ashamed that this was happening like this, that my problem had gotten this bad.

"Maybe like 50 or so." I said it quickly and my shaky voice betrayed my arousal even more.

"Yep, that makes sense. And this is what happens when you engage in that much activity. You've actually worked your body up to a point where it's in a constant state of needing sexual activity, penetration in particular."

I could only grip his forearm to keep from orgasming. His circles were constant and unceasing, with quickly inserted fingers playing with my hole and interrupting the pace in unexpected moments. The muscles in my ribs started to hurt from tension, pushing away an increasingly overwhelming need to release.

And then just when his rhythm was about to put me over an edge...

"See, notice how you respond when I do this in particular." His hand deftly but very suddenly slipped down and he pushed two fingers deep inside me with a thrust so hard that I cried out.

"Look at me and count to 3." I held my breath under the weight of him bearing down on my chest and his fingers as far up inside me as he could push them. His fingers didn't move, just stayed plunged deep. My body started to shake.

"I said look at me. Do NOT close your eyes."

"Wh-wh-one..."

"That's right. You really need this, trust me. Keep going."

"Teh-teh-two" My voice was thin and I could barely get the numbers out. I needed to get to Three so he would pull out of me. My body could not handle this. My hips were squirming around his fingers trying to escape just how deep he had them in me. He wouldn't let me get an inch of space.

I paused and mustered every remaining ability I had to say "THREE" with a quick push of the remaining air I had in my lungs under the weight of his hand.

But he did not come out from inside me.

Instead, he began to violently shake his fingers and push further into me. I cried out as I tried to buck from off the table. "Stop moving." I could hear him exerting himself through his gruff breath and his voice was lower and demanding. His fingers didn't move up and down, in or out. Only deeper and wider, stretching me out so forcibly that every part of my skin felt like fire. My cry built into a strong, unrelenting moan from my chest as I clenched his arm with both hands, digging my nails into his skin. I felt myself tense up around him and my back arched in anticipation of a final, big, fucking beautifully satisfying release.

But just as quickly as he'd been in me, he slid his fingers out.

I gasped and my hips instinctively twisted in desperate attempts to grab his fingers back inside. My hand moved toward my swollen pussy but he scoffed and swatted me away.

"You can't do that here. This is a medical setting and you're trying to make this one of your tinder hookups. You have to learn that not everything should make you want to just walk around cumming all the time." I could feel his hand slowly squeeze around my breast, hard and painfully. The massive orgasm that had built up in me was dissipating back into my body and I felt tears welling in my eyes. My heart was pounding out of my ears.

He brought his wet fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Yes, those are all self-lubricating juices alright. You can tell by the smell."

He hovered his fingers over my mouth, just a few tiny spaces above my small gasps of recovery. "And the taste actually. Taste this and see. You should know this to test yourself in the future."

I looked at him, unsure of what to do. He was looking back at me but he was not seeing me. The soft eyes were gone. He was cold and terrifying.

"Taste" he said sharply, startling me and my mouth wrapped around his fingers quickly.

"Oh fucking hell. I said to taste, not swallow my HAND. Get yourself together or we'll have to start all over."

"We-we're not done?" I stammered. My body was writhing from all the energy pent up inside me. I needed to touch myself, to release something, anything. It was agony.

"Uh, no," he chuckled. "From the looks of you, you're not any better yet." He washed his hands in a small sink behind me before rustling some items out from a drawer.

He came back to the table with his shirt unbuttoned and rolled up sleeves. He dropped a tangled mess of leather and buckles onto my stomach, wrapping the first cuff around my ankle, binding it to the stirrup and securing it tightly.

"What- why are you... what are you doing?" Panic started to rise up in me. He buckled the other ankle in the same way.

"You can't be trusted in this state. You're an addict. I have to restrain you to finish up. Look at you, you're touching yourself in a doctor's office for fuck's sake."

I hadn't realized my hand had wandered down and I'd been stroking myself mindlessly, anxiously. He pulled my hand away, drawing it above my head. He reached for the other and met my wrists behind me, tying them to a cord affixed to the table.

I was completely held down. And that ache from deep inside me started to pulse again.

He looked at me and stroked my hair softly, his voice languished and calm. "I know it's hard. That need and that craving, it's all the chemicals. Some people were just born with a certain mixture of them that makes it almost unbearable. Studies even link it to our ancestors. Your lot were the breeders, the bitches.

You can't help it, that constant state of neediness."

His last sentence wasn't a reassurance or absolution. It was a diagnosis.

He walked between my legs and rubbed my swollen, wet lips. I could feel the bulge of his pants press against me. "A cunt like yours only wants one thing, at all times." He pushed his hips into me and I could feel him through the clothing working against my exposed pussy. For as much as I knew he wasn't supposed to be doing this, I knew equally that I wanted him to fuck me. I needed him to fuck me.

"Please," I begged. "Please, your fingers, your cock, your tongue, anything. I need you in me." I was so desperate. If my pussy could have gripped onto anything at that moment, I'm sure it would have. My muscles throbbed and all I could feel was the void inside me where he wasn't. This gaping, aching, needy hole. It was more than I could stand. I squirmed in agony against the restraints to push myself further against his groin.

"You're like a dog, a little bitch in heat. You'd let a horse breed you right now. Why would I put my cock anywhere near you?"

He pulled something awkward and silver from a nearby drawer. It flashed in my eyesight but I couldn't make it out. It was large enough to fit inside me though and I didn't care one flying fuck what it was, as long as it was going in me. I braced myself.

"This will be a little cold." He slipped the steel inside me and I moaned in instant relief. Finally something filling my hole. My body began to contract around the object despite its awkward angles. I worked myself around it searching for the release I had to have.

"I know what you're wanting to do, but that's not what you need for your condition. Give me a deep long breath." I immediately did what he told me to, unable to even pause to think.

I could hear the squeak of screws from the object as he squeezed two handles together, slowly. To my horror, I realized this was a speculum opening me up. That deep satisfaction of being filled in one moment gave way to the tool stretching me into a gaping hole, now bigger than before. I couldn't even squirm my own muscles against each other for relief. A profound and throbbing craving swirled through my pussy, now a cavern of desperate empty space. I cried softly and begged him to please let me cum.

"Ha, the little bitch needs to cum now?" His words were mocking and patronizing. "You need an orgasm so badly, I'm so shocked." He rolled his eyes and laughed as he stood up, the speculum still buried inside me and the restraints holding me in place. He noted something on his clipboard while I continued to whimper and beg him softly, tears running down my cheeks.

He was still focused on his notes as he moved towards the door. Without a word, he left the room and latched the door behind him.

"D...doctor?" I could hear the panic in my voice instantly. Come back come back come back! My mind raced and my heart pounded in my stomach. I laid there barely able to move. My body felt heavy and pathetic, a sack of meat surrounding this all-consuming void, my pussy pulsing at its desperate and impossible attempts to be filled. I was nothing but this needy void. If I could have fucked the air inside me I would have. Please... come back.

I cried and pleaded to no one while I worked myself against the restraints to get any semblance of movement out of the speculum, even more than I was trying to escape them. But all I could do was listen to the bustle from the street just outside and the clock ticking on the wall.

*****

I had no idea how much time had actually passed when he finally came back into the room. By that point, my mind was hazy and I could feel an ungodly puddle had pooled under me. I'd stopped fighting the restraints a while ago, only softly rocking my hips absentmindedly, like from deep muscle memory.

"Ok, my dear. Very good." He swiftly unbuckled my ankles and untied my hands. My body lay limp and exhausted and I barely felt him remove the object of my torture from me.

"Oh goodness, wow. You are so, so wet." He looked around the room and landed his eyes on my panties on the floor.

"Well, here. This should tide you over until you get home." He stuffed my panties into me, fingering me deeply between the fabric. "That'll plug you right up."

He pulled me up into a seated position and lifted my arms to pull my dress over me. "Ok, you're good to go. Come back this time next week."

I stumbled off the table and he went back to jotting his notes. I clumsily pulled on my wedges, and started to shuffle my limp body toward the door.

"Jesus, hang on. Your mascara is a mess." He laughed while he licked his thumb and smeared it under my eyes.

"Oh! Well, uh, that didn't really help, sorry to say. We don't have a bathroom here for clients but there's a public toilet in the subway down the block."

And with that he went to his desk and began typing away, immediately disinterested in me standing in the doorway with my makeup smudged across my face and my panties dangling out of my pussy.

I turned to leave and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, my tall wedges felt like stilts and made my knees wobble. "Thank you," I murmured as I entered the hallway, in search of a subway toilet. "See you next week."