Mistress Nurse Ch 03 Golden Checkup

Oksana gives Jake a VERY thorough examination

Author's Caution: From here on out, the kinky train leaves the station! For those with a weak stomach in regards to medical play, skip to Part 7.

Also, I'm DESPERATE for editing help. If you are willing, drop me a note.

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When I arrived home, the apartment was empty. Emily had left a note though. 'Out with the girls, back late.' I was relieved to know I could expect some privacy.

When I'd graduated--I found this place. It was only a few miles from my work. It was expensive, but I was thrilled to have my own flat. After settling in, Emily and her Posse showed up for an impromptu house warming party. She had quickly noticed that it was a great place and a great location.

She still had a year of school left, but said she would pay 1/4 of the rent until she graduated and got a full-time job, then she'd pay 1/2. I didn't object.

Much.

We had always been close-ish, and I didn't really mind. Besides, it would give me a steady source for panties... The downside was that I had to empty my stuff out of the second bedroom.

I'd been stoked to finally have a room dedicated to my gaming setup. I had a top-of-the-line PC, with video cards driving 6 monitors. The main CPU and graphics processors were chilled with a small cryogenic plant that produced liquefied gasses, mainly nitrogen, which was stored in a 25-gallon Dewar. The cooling system was totally a custom job, mostly made with surplus parts I'd scrounged together.

When I was ready to get my game on, a valve started regulating the flow of liquid air to keep all the processors very, very cold. And that meant it was very, very fast. Eventually the system would run out of coolant. Mainly if I went on a weekend-long gaming binge.

As long as I didn't go on a bender, it was an unbelievable system. Running out sucked big time, but there was a low-level alarm to warn me to shut down. It takes several days to completely refill the Dewar, but as long as I keep my PC time reasonable, it manages just fine. Cramming it all into my bedroom sucked though.

I stripped out of my clothes. The butt plug was getting sore. It had been especially dicey driving with it in place. The pressure of sitting down was strong enough that I sort of stood against the backrest of the driver's seat so my butt would be off the cushion--which made it tolerable.

I stopped at Starbucks on the way home and ordered two Vente black coffees. I wondered what the girl at the window would say, had she known precisely how I planned to "consume" the contents of those cups.

Yes, I admit to being a perverted fuck. Big deal. I enjoyed having a naughty secret. Whether it was wearing panties or now a butt plug and pending enema, I derived a nice high from the taboo nature of it all. Doing it under the direction and hands-on involvement of a euro-goddess took it to a whole new level.

Besides, I was pretty sure at least half the people out there who would slut-shame me for my antics did so as a way of coping with the shame they felt about their own messed up sex lives.

I once read a story of a guy who found some old VHS tapes at a local thrift store. More than one of them were "home movie" recordings of a religiously devout couple and their church-going neighbor lady getting some seriously kinky butt sex on. I think that shit happens A LOT more than anyone admits. I'm just more willing to own my kinks. Now, whether that specific account was true or not, it was a very hot story--definitely an overtone of medical roleplay in the narrative and I really got off on that.

Wanting to obey my beautiful Mistress with preciseness, I changed into thigh-highs and a garter, plus a matching silk baby doll top. Removing the catheter-sound from the chastity device (which was also getting really uncomfortable) was a relief. I unpacked the enema gear then. It was a plain 2-quart fountain syringe type bag. The top was open to allow the contents to be quickly and easily added.

I poured in the coffee, mixed in the baking soda, then added water until it was a perfect temperature. After hanging up the bag in the shower, I withdrew the butt plug, carefully removing and flushing the condom, then slid the rigid nozzle into place. My cheeks were still well-lubricated from earlier and it went in easily.

I clenched down on the flared douche nozzle, holding it firmly in place, then released the clamp. The bag drained slowly into my inflating belly. It was a strange but familiar sensation. I felt the warm fluid coursing through my innards and found that after an initial powerful cramp, the entire bag went in pretty easily. As the last few ounces emptied from the bag, I felt full, but it was actually kind of sexy. It was a lot more pleasant than I remembered.

I stepped out of the shower and admired my distended belly in the mirror. Damn, I looked like I was pregnant, with a little 3-month along baby bump! I caressed my distended tummy with both hands-on bare skin and on top of the silky fabric. It was so sensual and erotic. I posed for a photo and sent it to my Mistress.

I decided I would definitely enjoy doing this in the future.

I reinstalled the short silicone catheter into myself and locked it in place with the chastity cage. As instructed, I rinsed the bag and left the detached hose hanging up to dry. After twenty minutes I felt a strong cramp and ran to the toilet to expel. It took a while to empty, and even when nothing else would come out, I still felt a little water logged.

Oksana later explained that it was normal for the transverse colon to hold onto some of the fluid because it didn't like to be completely emptied. It did however mean that for a few hours after an enema, I would likely have to make a trip or two to the bathroom to empty a rapidly-refilling bladder as the retained fluid was absorbed by my body. I hated having to get up multiple times at night to pee but it was a small price to pay for the eroticism of an enema.

I sent a lengthy text to Oksana, including pictures of the bag, and showing off my distended belly. She was pleased by the report and made plans for the following Friday evening. She told me to pack a small overnight pack with baggy sweats but to dress nicely for our date.

The prospect of an overnighter with my naughty nurse had my mind racing for the next several days. It was hard to focus at work, and I burned several hours sneakily reading enema and cross-dressing stories. I couldn't wait to make some of these long-held fantasies a reality with my Mistress Nurse.

In the hustle and bustle, I forgot to keep up with my training schedule. When I realized I'd missed multiple sessions, I sent a text profusely apologizing and making excuses (lame sounding I'm sure). She didn't respond or acknowledge my error in any way. As I followed the prescribed schedule exactly after that (setting reminders on my phone made all the difference). I forgot about it and assumed she did as well.

Oksana arrived to pick me up promptly at 9pm. I was speechless when I saw her. She only grew more beautiful every time I saw her. Fucking gorgeous. I invited her inside where my sister was watching TV on the couch and was surprised to see the stunning nurse again. There were brief pleasantries but I was curious about what she had in mind for the evening and was anxious to get going.

Instead, Oksana took my hand and led me to my room. Closing the door so it was shut, but not latched, she demanded to see my present state of preparation. I hesitated only momentarily as I reached down and unbuttoned, dropping my slacks to the floor.

She seemed pleased with my presentation and adherence to her requirements for undergarments and attachments. She instructed me to zip up and turned to the door. As we made our way out, I heard an inquiry.

"You aren't staying?" my sis asked casually.

"No, we have other plans" I answered. "Maybe next time. Don't wait up!" I said nervously.

Her expression was inscrutable as we turned away to leave. I rode shotgun as Oksana drove us to a restaurant for dinner and drinks. The food was delicious. It was an expensive meal, but the cost didn't even phase me. I was with the sexiest woman in the whole place! And I never got tired of her accent. She had a beautiful voice. Girly, sultry, she had a range with speaking that was striking.

I was especially distracted by Oksana teasing me with her foot. She kicked off her flats and kept stroking the inside of my leg. At one point she leaned back slightly and actually slid her foot up my inner thigh, making contact with my caged and skewered cock. I rolled my head back in pleasure, as my confined cock stiffened painfully. She must have been thirsty because she downed four big glasses of water with her food.

When dinner was over, we walked around the area. It was a huge shopping/dining/entertainment development. The courtyard was intended to be a large common area that several restaurants opened onto. The movie theater was also center stage, but the big attraction was an animated musical water fountain.

I'd heard the developers spent over a million dollars putting it in. Every half hour a 7 to 10-minute show ran. We sat out on patio chairs chatting and watching the fountain. It was after 11pm when we left. By this time, our date had been strikingly vanilla. I expected it was about to get a lot more interesting. I sure wouldn't mind a repeat of my visit to her apartment!

However, instead returning to her dwelling she drove us to the hospital!

She had me carry a backpack (transferring my sweats into her pack) along with a drink jug. I think it was most of a gallon. She kept drinking from it. She led us through a quiet employee entrance on the lower level of the back side. Most of the hallway lights were off, so it was relatively dim inside. She took a left through some doors and it was even darker down that hall. Only 1 light in 10 was burning. The bare minimum for safety.

Neither of us spoke, though I was desperately curious about her plans. She led me down a set of stairs and through several more sets of zig zag turns. I was completely disoriented. We finally stopped before a large door. The placard read "Procedure Room B201".

Oksana pulled out a small set of keys and used one to gain access. She closed and locked the door behind us. I was stunned by the room. It was large, and fully stocked for surgery--or at least it appeared that way to my untrained eyes.

There were huge exam lights hanging from the ceiling, directly above a wild looking stainless-steel procedure table. I immediately recognized the knee crutch stirrups and knew they would be cradling me momentarily.

She instructed me to completely strip while she blocked the door and began her preparations. I neatly folded my clothes on a chair in the corner. She positioned the exam table by releasing the various restraints and orienting it in a subtle reclining posture. When I glanced over again, I saw that she was squatting a bit, peeing into a pitcher. The tinkling sound of her urine splashing into the container was musical to me. I couldn't see much from my vantage point, but I could hear the relief as she exhaled a long breath.

She instructed me to climb into position on the table and then deliberately and tightly fastened each and every strap, making sure I had minimal movement. When asked to challenge the restraints, she seemed displeased with how much leeway my abdomen had so she applied another strap across my hips. I realized that until she released me, she could do anything to me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it--apart from scream.

She aligned the overhead light and began preparing for the first procedure. Wheeling a covered cart next to the table, along with an IV pole, Mistress opened a container of sterilizing antiseptic wipes and aggressively scrubbed my scrotum, my cock, and my scrotum again.

Then she scrubbed the entire area around my cock and balls. Next, she took out two large 1000cc IV bags and hung them on the pole. I felt nervous about getting an IV, but steeled my nerves and kept quiet.

"All hospitals have a certain amount of waste. All consumable medical supplies have an expiration date. That date is NEVER violated, for liability reasons. So, from time to time there is a significant amount of surplus material on hand" she instructed me.

"In this case, I have a secret stash of recently expired supplies that I can draw upon without consuming any official hospital resources; and that's what these are. And yes, the supplies are perfectly safe and usable. It's primarily a way for manufacturers to reduce risk and also assure a steady demand from amongst their customers."

She opened two packages and attached the IV-line sets to the bags. Next, she rolled over two peristaltic IV pumps; when the covers were opened and the lines installed, she attached some 1 1/2-inch 24 gage needles. Removing the cap from the first, she cleared the air from the lines by utilizing an automatic purge cycle on the pump.

The rollers inside the pump face moved slowly, and finally liquid dribbled from the tip of the needle. She replaced the cap, then purged the other line set as well. She sat down and wheeled up close between my legs, adjusting the intensity of the exam light and carefully scrutinizing my nether region.

When she was happy with her chosen site, she picked up one of the needles and removed the protective sterile cap. Next Mistress pinched a bit of skin and drew it away from my body. Her other hand lined up the needle and pressed it home. There was a sharp pinch as it broke the skin. I was pleasantly surprised when the discomfort of the needle almost entirely faded within seconds.

I was worried about what damage might be caused by all of this, but I trusted her not to cause serious harm.

She took tape from a dispenser on the cart and secured the first line in place against my lower abdomen, then repeated the procedure with the second needle. Then initiating the infusion cycle, a series of beeps announced each button press as she made her selections.

She admired her work--a pair of clear tubes snaking down to my scrotum where the needles pierced the skin like fangs. Thanks to the pumps, their clear venom would flow into my scrotum (thankfully not into my testicles) for quite some time.

"This will take about two hours to fully infuse into you. The pumps are capable of draining those bags in an hour, but we need to give your body time to equalize the fluid so I'll only be running at 500ml per hour, each".

As the rotors kicked into high gear, I felt a strange coolness wash over my balls as they were literally bathed in sterile saline. I wondered exactly how this would go. Two liters of fluid pumped into my ball sack? That's half a fucking gallon! Nearly Five pounds of water weight. Damn.

She put away the tools and trays utilized to set up the infusion procedure, and prepared two carts for the second. She went to a cabinet and removed a black case. Opening it for my inspection, I saw a long stainless-steel rod that looked a lot like her sounds, but this one wasn't curved at all.

She explained "This, is a Rigid Cystoscope."

I wasn't entirely sure what that meant. The confused look on my face tipped her off that additional explanation was required.

"I will be using this instrument to inspect the ENTIRE length of your urethra and then the inside of your bladder. With all the training ahead, I have to be sure there aren't any problems that could challenge our continued mutual commitment to maximum dilation."

Woah, Wait, wait. That huge fucking rod was going into my bladder? This HAD to hurt. I had no idea that was even a thing! It's a good thing she knew what she was doing.

Right! Right?

She brought the needed supplies next to the table, and continued to explain "Ordinarily cystocsopic examination is performed with a flexible fiberoptic scope. But I MUCH prefer the rigid variety. The pathetic male parts should bend and stretch to accommodate Mistresses' scope. The scope should never have to bend to accommodate a slave."

I couldn't argue with logic like that now, could I?

"Also, these exams are typically performed in a surgical theater, with the patient fully draped in a sterile field, while anesthetized through a heavy local anesthetic or general sedation. In your case, you'll get neither!" there was a gleeful hint to her tone that made me shiver.

"For one thing I want to be able to see your reaction. Every muscle twitch and quiver. I also want to get some good pictures for my next fetish journal. Finally, I won't even use local anesthetic because I want to you FEEL this. You need to know that your pain gives me pleasure. It is a measure of your obedience, and your servitude. Also, if you can't handle this, you definitely can't handle what we are working towards and I'd rather know right now if you are a waste of my very precious time..."

Fetish Journal? Pictures? Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into? Is she going to plaster my pictures all over the digital domain? Once that rabbit is out of the bag it multiplies like a hydra-bunny. No getting it back. I don't mind humiliation in private, but I don't want to impact my ability to work!

My anxiety must have showed. She stared me down. I felt sheepish and looked at the floor. Clearly, I was worried about her mention of photographs, but I also understood that this was a discrete woman. I felt sure she wouldn't post these.

They would incriminate her own misuse of hospital facilities and theft of hospital supplies and facilities while performing completely medically 'unnecessary' procedures. I knew that if we were caught, she would have a great deal more to lose than I would. I could tell she wanted a response. And I figured I'd better make it good.

"Yes Mistress, of course. You are right that I freely offer my pain for your pleasure. All for your pleasure. I gratefully accept whatever treatments you deem desirable or necessary. You represent the embodiment of all of my fantasies and I never EVER expected that to happen for me. I'll do anything not to spoil that. Please proceed Mistress."

She smiled and stepped near, placing a blue surgical cap over my hair, and a large surgical mask over my mouth and nose. I breathed easy knowing that I would likely never be recognized in her photos now. She had removed my cage along the way, giving unfettered access to my cock.

She returned to the task at hand, adjusting the table so my legs were spread wide, then again sterilizing my penis and the invasive instrument which my penis was about to be introduced to. She connected the fiber optic light source and finally donned another set of sterile gloves.

She sat on the rolling exam stool and slid up directly between my splayed knees, with a very closeup view of all my bits and pieces. I hoped what she saw wasn't unpleasant to her.

I knew many people in the medical profession were severely grossed out by seeing those parts of some people. Especially those with certain medical conditions or poor hygiene in general. Thankfully I was fussy about my grooming and she didn't seem phased in the slightest to have the benefit of a high intensity overhead examination light and a microscopic view.

She held my flaccid penis almost parallel to my body, and formally introduced the cystoscope to my urethral meatus. The cold metal instrument parted the folds in a cold and firm French kiss. I took a sharp breath at the sensation. I'd felt it before, but in this circumstance, fully restrained and knowing that this time unlike previously, that thing, like E.T., was going ALL the way home.

I felt it sliding down the throat of my cock, stretching me out and forcing the tender skin to yield to the large bore of the optical tool. As the tip reached my pubic bone there was resistance. She made an inverted pendulum motion to manipulate the instrument down until my cock was pointing straight down relative to my body. She was able to advance a couple of additional inches.