P3 Fiances Doctor House Call

Fiancé's Doctor House Call: Part 3 of 3

Her Story

I'd been so busy with work and graduate studies I didn't make any weekend plans. Some of my friends had talked about going downtown to a new restaurant and hanging out afterwards, but I was tired of the same old routine. It would be another night of negotiating strangers; some were nice guys, some were too full of themselves or too pushy.

My phone rang. "I know, Mom, I'm fine. Thank you for reminding me I'm not getting any younger. There's nothing wrong with focusing on my career; it doesn't mean I'm not social. What? No, I'm not a lesbian. I'll visit you and Dad soon; let me get my life in better order. No, I won't be bringing someone for you to meet."

He walked by me in the graduate student section of the library; I sensed him looking my way, but I wasn't sure if he would approach me. He had kind eyes and a nice smile; he walked by me and went on his way. That's fine; I'm not here to socialize; I've got work to do.

After wrapping up my book search, I thought a coffee would be in order, so I headed out to the café at the entrance. Here's the guy with the kind eyes again. I was wondering if he's stalking me or if it's a coincidence. I smiled at him, and he spoke.

"I hope you found the book you were looking for."

With nothing to lose, I invited him to join me. I'm usually never this open to a stranger, but he had those kind eyes, so I gave him a break. We had a great conversation sitting outside the library, and I hoped he would get the courage to invite me out. I almost thought about extending him an invitation, but I couldn't. He found a creative way to get us together, an excuse to meet him that night at a comedy performance without the stigma of a first date. It seemed safe; I could leave or ghost him if he turned out to be creepy, so I gave him my contact information.

Spending time with him was much like coffee with him at the café. His company made me feel free and easy. He listened to what I had to say and was interesting himself to listen to. He had depth and character; maybe he wasn't as tall or attractive as my usual suitors, but I felt so comfortable with him. Besides, I could totally see myself banging him, and I knew he thought I was really attractive, but he never looked at me like a piece of meat.

This was refreshing because the last guy I dated was someone all my girlfriends drooled over. He had the body and looks; he was also very successful. Making love was a thrill at first, but I sometimes didn't feel he was making love to me, more like he was checking off his to-do list. I soon came to realize I couldn't compete with his Porsche and his ego. I felt like a pretty accessory to go with his Porsche. One day I decided I was done with him, and he didn't hesitate walking away.

The more I spent time with Mister kind eyes, the more I felt he was someone who made me feel better about myself. I was excited by the anticipation of sex with him for the first time. I put good, fresh sheets on the bed. I bought new underwear, nothing slutty but pretty. I even shaved my legs and spent extra time making sure every detail looked its best.

We were so naturally attracted to each other; I would get wet holding him close. This was making love, kind, tender, patient, and thrilling. I soon wanted to feel him inside me every chance we got. I knew he felt the same, and things were moving so quickly, but I didn't care; it felt so right.

He surprised me with a proposal on the beach at night. I said yes immediately and thought, what are my mom and dad going to say? They haven't met him yet, but I'm sure they will love him like I do. Soon we became focused on making wedding plans and meeting each other's families.

Saturdays at the yoga studio were good for my body and attitude, but I kept getting a sharp pain in my pelvis. I had bad menstrual cramps as a teen; being on the pill had helped reduce them. Then the migraines started. I was having a bad day when he found me in my bedroom curled in a ball. He looked so helpless, like he was feeling my pain and couldn't do anything about it.

I went to my OB/GYN to see what could be happening to me. I really liked and respected this woman; she was knowledgeable and very attentive. But I was disappointed when she told me I was fine and some pain is what women had to live with. I knew there had to be a better answer.

The next Saturday at yoga, I worked out next to my trusty friend. She's a young mom, and yoga is her me-time away from her husband and child. She noticed I was uncomfortable.

"Where were you last week? Everything ok?"

"Migraines and pelvic pain; not sure why, but GYN says it's nothing."

"No kidding, I went through the same thing about a few months after delivery. OB said, "Toughen up and get over it."

"Really, how insensitive."

"No kidding, but I didn't accept his answer; I found alternative care to fix my pain."

"How?"

"I did some research and found pelvic floor muscle balance is critical to a pain-free active lifestyle. The MDs tend to overlook the muscle group, but it's your body's foundation. Tense or weak pelvic muscles can affect men and women."

"Let's chat more after class."

Class was great, and I was able to manage the pain. As we began to chat, I was taken aback by what my friend described.

"Are you certain vaginal massage is a legitimate medical treatment for pelvic pain? It sounds shady. I bet some perv is the author of the theory."

"I felt the same way, so I looked up Kegel exercises and pelvic floor therapy. Deep pelvic muscle massage is a legitimate way to treat female abdominal pain. The key is finding a fully licensed therapist."

"Are there women pelvic therapists?"

"Yes, many PTs offer pelvic treatment, but no one came close to the results this DO is achieving. I must warn you, if you require a pelvic floor massage, it will be really intense. You won't be able to hold back your reaction to stimulation. You'll need to be mentally prepared."

"You're scaring me now."

"It's not painful; I mean, you may orgasm. I put aside any guilt and embarrassment. It was actually quite thrilling. More importantly, it really worked; I am pain-free without drugs."

My fiancé was suddenly behind me and I didn't want him to hear our girl talk so we agreed to meet the next day for coffee. At the local coffee bar, we once again found ourselves locked in conversation.

"What did you really mean by putting aside guilt and embarrassment?"

"I wasn't looking for sex, but being alone with this doctor triggered one of my secret fantasies. You're like me, career-oriented, always in control, and confident. We don't allow anyone to control us. My secret fantasy was to let it all go, submit to someone else's full control."

"From the time I hit puberty, I was always told to control my thoughts, be guarded, and never vulnerable."

"What if you had an opportunity to secretly surrender self-control? What if you could allow yourself to be totally vulnerable and under the control of a stranger; fully submit without restrictions?"

"I'm not sure I would want to fully submit to anybody, not even my fiancé."

"You don't really know if you don't until you try it. You're in a great relationship, but to really know yourself and be a full partner, you should explore inner thoughts. The erotic beauty of anticipation and longing, of exposing all insecurities and desires."

"I only want relief from pain and migraines. Not a sexual transformation."

"That's what I thought; but if you see this doctor in the privacy of your own home, a door will open. I want you to be ready. The cool thing is you can try as much as you want and back out at any time. He is strictly private and confidential. Most importantly, the pelvic therapy works wonders. All I'm saying is there's an opportunity for self-discovery if you allow it."

On the way home, her words haunted my thoughts. I am a very high-control, confident woman and proud of it. I never really thought deeply about submission or taking a submissive role with my partners, still the fantasy lingered in the back of my head. I really couldn't image submitting my body to the complete control of a stranger, nor did I ever intend to break the trust of my fiancé.

I told myself this was different and a medical situation. I remember after puberty my mom telling me, as a woman I would have to accept being inspected and probed. I was horrified but growing up, I always had a healthy perspective on nudity. My adult experience with medical care was always clinical and supportive. I had experienced both male and female physicians, and I felt comfortable with both. It was like taking my car into the shop, open the hood, check the oil and I'm good for another 10,000 miles.

I have a healthy perspective on sexuality, my body, and my choices. I'm no virgin, and I'm not naïve, but I've never really played the fantasy game with anybody. Maybe that's why I feel a little guilty about omitting key portions of pelvic treatment when I updated my fiancé. I never doubted he would understand, but I couldn't put him through descriptions of my vagina being fingered by some stranger, even if the stranger was a doctor.

After allowing my fiancé to help me with research, I gathered my confidence and made the phone call to the Doctor of Osteopathy's office. I was pleased I was able to speak directly to him. He was reassuring and very matter of fact. I liked his plain spoken, straight-shooter, no-bull, non-sales approach. So, I booked a home visit appointment and asked my fiancé to chaperone.

The evening of the appointment, I was frazzled. I was running late all day and very busy. I was in business attire and really didn't have time to prepare myself. I wasn't sure if I should prepare to get nude or if the initial examination was a brief checkup. I was thinking about having my fiancé join the examination, but at the last minute I felt it was best if I handle this on my own. It really helped when my fiancé got to my place early and straightened out the place, I was calmer by the time the DO arrived, but I didn't have a chance to change out of my office attire.

As I walked into the kitchen to meet the DO, he and my fiancé seemed to have bonded. I could tell my fiancé was uncomfortable, but the DO put both of us at ease. I also couldn't help but notice this DO was a hunk of a man. Now I knew why my yoga friend enjoyed extra benefits with him. I led him to my guest room, leaving my fiancé in the kitchen, and shut the door. A chill went down my spine. What was going to happen?

The DO was all business. I sat on the bed in my business suit, and he sat on a chair with a notepad. I never sensed that he was sexualizing me. He seemed focused on his questions and locked in analysis. He played a chess match in his head, trying to find the right moves to defeat my pain. I listened attentively to his questions and answered honestly.

"Date of your last menstrual cycle?"

"About two weeks ago."

"Mother's history of cancer?"

"No, but my aunt had breast cancer."

"Current birth control method?"

"The pill, but I am considering an IUD."

"Have you ever had an abortion?"

"No, but I did need a morning-after pill once."

"Pain during intercourse?"

"Only recently, since the pelvic pain started."

"Anal intercourse?"

"I have tried it but not recently."

"Multiple active sexual partners?"

"No, I'm in a monogamous relationship."

Some of the questions seemed invasive but not unusual. These were the same questions I was asked by my OB/GYN. His tone was almost hypnotic, as were his facial expressions. I felt safe with him; I didn't feel embarrassed when he asked me to unbutton my blouse. I remembered what my friend had described in her visit, how she suspended her inner thoughts and allowed him to control her. She told me she accepted allowing him access to her body without guilt about how her husband might feel. She found the experience liberating. The complete privacy in her home was different from a clinical office visit. It was completely time out of mind.

His hands felt warm and strong against my breasts. I enjoyed his touch, and my poor nipples gave away my reaction. I stopped worrying; I knew this wasn't his first time examining women. In fact, he told me he sees many women over the course of each week. As he moved away from my breasts and worked his magic fingers on my temples, the tension and pain melted away. I had lost track of time and forgot about my poor fiancé waiting in the kitchen.

I was suddenly snapped back to reality when the DO said, "I will need to do a visual pelvic inspection; do you consent to the examination?"

I said yes but I was confused, this was so different from being at the clinic, where I had the opportunity to undress myself and put on a hospital gown. He started undressing me, and I allowed him to do so. In this moment I later realized I was at the crossroads of control and submission. It wasn't the nudity that I consented to; it was control. I remembered how my friend described her descent into submission as blissful. I went through the looking glass and let him unzip my skirt, then pull down my pantyhose and panties. I surrendered to him consciously, but I didn't feel I had a choice. I worried about how my vagina looked and smelled, but as I drifted further into submission, I stopped caring.

He never broke character; I never sensed he was gawking at me as I lie there so vulnerable. His strong hands gently prodded my labia open. He moved my legs with precision, and as he did, I felt a release of tension in my pelvis. The pain was subsiding, but the movements were rubbing my labia together. He pushed my legs out wide, and I was obscenely displayed to him; I craved his focus on my open vagina.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but I could feel the moisture building inside. My body begged for his fingers to penetrate me. This was way beyond any experience I had in a medical office. I didn't feel I could stop it, or maybe I didn't want to stop it.

My fiancé's knock on the door brought me out of my dream state, "Just checking, is everything ok in there?"

I couldn't speak, I lay there nude and flat on my back, my legs spread wide. The doctor answered and said we were almost done. Then he got up packed his things and exited the room. It took me a while but I gathered my thoughts and put on my underwear. I didn't want my fiancé to walk in and find me naked on the bed.

It was over for now; the doctor left me follow-up instructions on his way out. I asked my fiancé to stay the night, I owed him an explanation but wasn't sure how much to tell him. The thought of a second visit already entered my mind. I couldn't decide in the moment if I would take this any further.

I'm glad I waited to explain the situation to my fiancé. The next day I was calm and more rational, more my self-controlled personality again. I had guilty morning sex with my fiancé; it was naughty and fun. I was upbeat because the therapy really helped. I wanted to call my friend and share my experience, but I felt so guilty about being stimulated. I knew I had to keep it all to myself and not create any loose ends. Besides, it was a one-time thing, and I could move on.

I gave my fiancé the Reader's Digest version of the examination, omitting my feelings of submission. As I spoke with him, I had the feeling he already knew more than I was telling him. I let the concern fade; there's no way he could know everything. Later, he told me he'd be gone for a couple of days on business, and I didn't think anything of it.

The next afternoon at work, I wasn't able to concentrate. Sure, the therapy and exercises worked, but I couldn't stop thinking about a pelvic massage to complete the full treatment. I wasn't sure why I became so obsessed with these thoughts; it was as if a suggestion was planted in my brain. It was then I made the decision to make the call. I would be completely alone for a couple of days; no one would ever know. I found myself pleading with the doctor to see me during this time. I became obsessed with finishing what I started.

I took the next day off work and didn't say anything about it to my fiancé. The doctor was arriving in the afternoon, and I had time to prepare myself for his house call. I don't know why, but I was at a local mall in the morning getting coffee when I walked past a Pretty Kitty wax salon. I was thinking about making an appointment, but they were having a slow day and took me right away. In a matter of minutes, I agreed to a full Brazilian wax. The wax job was painful but left me clean and smooth; I felt so naughty and sexy. On the way back home, I thought I should get a new robe to wear since I was going to be nude. Better to undress and wear the robe instead of stripping in front of him. Somehow, I ended up with very a sexy one-piece lingerie and a cute matching silk robe.

As I got home and began my preparation, something came over me. I was going to call my fiancé at the hotel but was scared I would be caught in lies and secrets. I put the doubts out of mind, and got ready. My pulse was racing and my stomach was in knots with anticipation. I jumped in the shower; my smooth vulva felt so good to touch. I curled my hair, put on makeup, and jewelry. I touched up a recent manicure of my hands and feet. I put on the one-piece lingerie and looked at myself in the mirror. I felt so erotic, and so willing to submit.

The knock on my door startled me out of my daze. What was I about to do? I suddenly had the resolve to pay for the visit, and call the whole thing off. I put on my large terry cloth bath robe and answered the door. His caring smile and voice calmed me down. We spoke for a while in the kitchen where he reviewed his diagnosis and treatment plan for me. He asked if I wanted to reschedule and conduct massage treatment in a clinic. Again, he asked for my consent. His voice and facial expression got to me; I could only say yes. I led him to the guestroom and excused myself.

I went to my bathroom, brushed my hair, and added perfume. My mind was clear and lucid, but I only wanted to feel, not think. My blood pressure must have been soaring and my mouth was dry. He was waiting for me when I returned to the guest room in my silk robe. His eyes told me to drop the robe, and I did. I don't recall how long he stared at me in my lingerie, but I wanted to please him. He asked me to turn around, and I did. I would have agreed to anything he asked.

He repeated the temple massage for my migraines, which had me calm and relaxed. His hands and fingers felt so strong and sure; I was squirming with anticipation for him to touch my vagina. He positioned me up on my heels, facing him with my knees wide open. His eyes told me to show him my bare vulva, so I did. I unclasped the snaps of the one-piece and pulled open the crotch. I could only stare at him as he so carefully pulled my labia open and inspected my vagina. He asked again for my consent to start the massage; I couldn't speak. I could only nod yes.

His fingers pressed into my flesh, arousing me. He knew exactly how to touch me and with each movement I fell further into a state of full submission. His fingers pressed hard into my vaginal walls and I wanted to grip them. After a while he asked be to stand up and remove the lingerie. This time he spoke the words and didn't have to ask twice. Standing nude with a fresh bare pussy had me so aroused. I wanted him to look at me, really look at me; leave no detail unassessed. My body felt powerful and magical under his control.

As his fingers impaled me against the dresser, I wanted to scream in ecstasy. His fingers kept filling me, finding the right spot, and with the perfect amount of pressure. I could tell I was dripping almost squirting, but I didn't care. I felt no embarrassment, no shame, no guilt.