Robin stood staring out the window of the maternity ward, watching the huge snowflakes blowing past the window. Already, she had put in three hours of overtime, since the evening shift was so slow getting in. Traffic crawled, when it moved at all. A bus, full of standees, took five minutes to go one block. “Robin, how are you going to get home?”

“Oh, Dr. Kreuzer. I can’t possibly get home. It takes an hour when the weather is clear. I guess I’ll just sleep in a chair somewhere.”

“Then you’d be in no shape to work tomorrow. Why don’t you come home with me? I only live two and a half blocks from here. Don’t shake your head, no. Get your coat and come with me.”

On a side street, Dr. Kreuzer’s place was a renovated century-old brick building. The ground floor display windows were covered on the inside with heavy drapes and on the outside with iron bars. The door had a brass plate: Katherine Kreuzer, M.D., gynecology and obstetrics. As they entered, a big dog, a Weimaraner with short gray hair and eyes like opals, bounded up and started nuzzling Dr. Kreuzer. “This is Clem, my companion and guard dog.” Downstairs, there were waiting rooms and offices and examination rooms. Upstairs was a spacious loft- style apartment. “It’s beautiful, Dr. Kreuzer. It’s really nice.” “Now, Robin, you look cold and wet. Here’s a robe you can wear. There’s the bathroom, with fresh towels and anything else you will need. Help yourself to a new toothbrush. I need to take Clem outside to do his business, so you just take a nice long hot bath. You can wash out your things and hang them on the rack over the hot air vent. That way, you will have clean underwear for tomorrow. Go on, and take your time.”

The bathroom was larger than Robin’s rented room, with a tile floor and central drain, a wash bowl, toilet, bidet, a large glassed-in shower with multiple heads, and a big tub with “whirlpool” jets. There were several large mirrors. Robin took a long, relaxing bath, and watched herself in the mirrors as she dried herself with thick, luxurious towels. She washed her undies and socks, and her white nylon uniform slacks, too, since they’d been splashed with gray slush by a passing car. She wiped her white shoes as best she could and combed out her long, blonde hair. She looked at the bidet next to the toilet; she had never seen one in an apartment before. The dressing gown was rather clingy, and short. Surely it wouldn’t have fit Dr. Kreuzer, who stood two inches taller than Robin and must have weighed half again as much. To see them together, the doctor might have been Robin’s mother, or older sister, for she probably wasn’t much over 30. She, too, had blonde hair and blue eyes. When Robin emerged from the bathroom, the apartment was transformed. It was lit by candles.

A table was set for two with hot soup, french bread and cheese, and glasses of red wine. Soft instrumental music played in the background. The doctor was also in a bathrobe, with Clem’s head resting on her lap. She held up her glass and said, “Come sit with me, Robin, and chow down.”

The meal was delicious, though the wine was very powerful. After three glasses, Robin felt quite at ease and a little tipsy. The doctor cleared the table and sat, looking at Robin. Robin felt a bit embarrassed. “Doctor, you seem to be staring at me.” The doctor shifted in her seat. Her robe gaped open a bit, displaying her cleavage. Robin thought she was very attractive and wondered why she was still unmarried. “Robin, of course I was staring. You are a very pretty girl… young woman. You have particularly pretty breasts. A C-cup, right.” “Yes.” “On a girl as slender as you are, they are quite impressive. You must have men asking you out all the time, right?” “No. Well, yes, but I seldom say yes.” “You have a steady boy friend.” “Oh, no. No, I don’t date much. There was school, and now my job.” “I understand. As a women’s physician, I have a professional interest in breasts. Would you mind showing me yours?” “Uh, I suppose that would be OK.”

The doctor got up and went to Robin, who stood up. The doctor undid the belt of the robe and pulled the front open and off Robin’s shoulders, exposing her breasts. Robin just stood there, confused. “Oh, yes, simply beautiful. You must let me take pictures.” In seconds, Robin found herself stark naked. “Just stand over by that white wall, while I get my camera. You needn’t worry. I’ll safeguard your privacy. In fact, just to be sure that no one will recognize you, you can put your hands over your face.” Robin placed an open hand each side of her nose, covering her eyes. “That’s right. Raise your elbows a bit, please.” She heard the doctor moving around, taking a couple dozen shots from various angles. “Yes, very nice. Thank you, Robin. I have one more request. You won’t mind, will you?” “I guess not. You’ve been very nice to me. The soup was delicious.” “I just want to make a plaster cast of your breasts. It won’t hurt a bit. OK?” “Well…OK.” “I’ll just run downstairs for a moment to get some things.”

The doctor brought up a box of plaster and such and then a low bench, like a piano bench, and a padded board. She led Robin into the bathroom and had her kneel down on the padded board in front of the bench. “There, now just put your head on the seat of the bench, so your beautiful breasts can hang free. Now, you can’t move while the plaster is setting, so you won’t mind if I just make sure.” Robin found her arms strapped to the bench with “Velcro” and her knees similarly fastened two feet apart to the padded board, so she really couldn’t move much. “Now, we’ll have to oil your skin, so the plaster doesn’t stick.” Reaching around Robin’s slender body, the doctor used her hands to rub baby oil over Robin’s breasts. The nipples hardened, and the doctor seemed to pay particular attention to them. “There, that didn’t hurt, did it?” “Not at all.” “You rather liked it, didn’t you, Robin.” “Yes.” “Now, breathe in shallow breaths, so your ribs don’t move.” Robin tried. The doctor took surgical gauze and soaked it in plaster. She wound the gauze around Robin’s upper body, from her arm pits to her floating ribs, enclosing her breasts in thick plaster. The plaster, as it set, generated considerable heat, which Robin found rather exciting, as it “cooked” her breasts. The doctor talked softly to her as the plaster set, and the doctor’s finger tips roamed over the bare skin of Robin’s body, over her rump and down the insides of her thighs.

She felt the doctor’s fingers sliding along her bare bottom, and feeling between her legs. A finger tip parted her hairy labia and slid forward, parting Robin’s inner labia. It came to rest on the little ridge beyond the juncture of the thin inner lips. The doctor pressed lightly. Robin wriggled. The doctor moved her finger tip from side to side, rolling the hidden organ below. “Eewww!” squealed Robin. “That feels funny.” “You’ve never done that to yourself?” “Not like that.” The doctor expertly fingered Robin’s hooded clitoris, until Robin writhed and panted. “Naughty girl! You’ll ruin the cast,” the doctor scolded, as she spanked Robin’s right buttock, leaving a pink hand print. She repeated with a slap to the other buttock. “Oww!” “Then keep still.” Robin tried, but she was overwhelmed by the doctor’s manipulation of the hidden clitoris, and her spanking and scolding. Suddenly, Robin shuddered with an orgasm, more intense and exciting than anything she had experienced when she had surreptitiously fingered her panties. “Oh, my goodness!” Robin said, after she had recovered from the novel experience.

“I think the plaster has set sufficiently,” said the doctor. She unzipped the Velcro straps that bound Robin and helped her to sit up on the toilet seat, still a bit shaky from the mighty orgasm. She cut the cast up sides and pulled the rigid gauze away, noting approvingly that the plaster seemed to have faithfully represented the beautiful breasts. “Well, we have to wash that oil off you. Come, get in the shower with me.” The doctor soaped Robin’s chest and used her hands to scrub the oil away. Robin squirmed and made incoherent noises as her breasts were squeezed and stroked. The doctor took one of the special shower heads on a hose and washed away the soap at close range, the pulsating water teasing Robin’s breasts. Then Robin’s pubic region was soaped and the doctor rinsed Robin’s vulva with a powerful pulsating jet of body-temperature water. Robin squealed and tried to pull away, but the doctor backed her into a corner and trapped her with the pressure of her body, breast to breast. In seconds, it seemed, the pulsing water, blasting against Robin’s hooded clitoris, pushed Robin over the edge. “Oh, oh, Oh God!” she cried over and over again, until she collapsed in the doctor’s arms.

The doctor carried a semiconscious, unresisting Robin to the big four poster bed and put her on her back. Robin was hardly recovering when she realized that the doctor was between Robin’s knees, and she was licking Robin’s vulva. Those delicious tingles radiated from Robin’s swollen clitoris, making Robin thrash and moan. Yet another overwhelming orgasm drained her strength. This time, when Robin regained her senses, she found she was between the doctor’s knees, and the doctor said, “Now it’s your turn to do me.” Robin had never “done” a woman, but under the circumstances she couldn’t refuse. The doctor lay back, her legs spread, and Robin tried to imitate her. Fresh from the shower, the scent of sex was muted. The doctor’s pubes were hairless, and her labia minora, which were inconspicuous in Robin’s vulva, stood out between the labia majora and looked, to Robin’s eye, like slices of luncheon meat. Robin parted the lips and saw that, unlike her own smooth vulva, there was a tent-like fold of flesh at the apex of the inner lips and a little nubbin, like a pencil eraser. Gingerly, Robin touched the thing. “Careful, girl. That’s very sensitive. Use your tongue.” Robin did as she was told, until the doctor writhed and ejaculated in Robin’s face. “That was good, girl. Go wash your face and come to bed.” They slept side by side, skin to skin.

After breakfast, Robin showered and got dressed in her now dry uniform. Sober now, she reflected on what had happened last night, and the special relationship that she supposed must exist after such unexpected intimacy. She didn’t think of her being in love with Dr. Kreuzer. It never occurred to Robin that she might prefer women — she dearly wanted to be near her. “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” said the doctor, “as the sidewalks aren’t clear of snow yet. I’d like you to come over here after work and have supper with me. OK?” “Uh, OK, Doctor. Yes, I’d like that.”

That evening, over small steaks, asparagus, and a spinach salad, Dr. Kreuzer put forth a proposal. “Robin, would you like to live here with me and Clem?” “I think that would be nice. I don’t think I could afford my share of the rent, though.” “Oh, I’ll pay for the rent and provide you with food, when we are here together. You can pay for your keep in services.” “Services?” “Well, I’ll be in charge, and I expect you will help around the house, washing dishes, things like that. When you are off work, and I have patients here at my office, you could help out as my office nurse. Would that be all right?” “Sure, I guess so.” “After all, you will save a couple of hours a day by not having to take a bus to work. It’s not as if you won’t have time.” “Yes, doctor, that makes sense.” “As far as the Internal Revenue Service is concerned, you won’t be an employee, but I expect to be treated respectfully, as your boss, right? You will always address me as doctor and you’ll do what I say.” “OK.” “If you misbehave or disobey, I reserve the right to punish you. Understood?” Robin wondered what that might involve, another spanking,perhaps, with another wonderful orgasm. “OK, doctor, I’ll be good.” “Here, sign this contract.” Robin scanned the typed document. “It says I will grant you access to my body at any time.” “Of course. I can’t ask for your consent every time I want to examine you for disease, or spank you for misbehaving.” “Um, OK.” Robin signed two copies. The doctor signed one and gave it to Robin. “We have time. Why don’t I drive you to your room, and you can get your things and give notice that you are leaving. You don’t have a lease, do you?” “No.” By midnight, Robin was all moved in. All that remained was the change of address cards.

“Before we go to bed, we’ll take a shower together,” said the doctor. Robin could not object. They soaped each other and rinsed each other. The doctor took one of the showers on a hose and unscrewed the head, so a solid stream of water shot forth. She pushed Robin into a corner and held her there with the pressure of her body against Robin’s. She directed the stream of water at the apex of Robin’s labia, so the water gushed through her vulva like a raging river through a canyon. Robin struggled and writhed and moaned and screamed as clitoral orgasms came one after another. When the doctor finally stopped, Robin was too spent to resist. The doctor laid her on the floor and lathered Robin’s pubic hair. With a razor, she removed Robin’s sparse, blonde pubic hair, leaving her soft labia as hairless as her breasts. The doctor carried her to bed, put her on her back, and spread her legs. She knelt between Robin’s knees and put her lips against the invisible clitoris, sucking gently. Robin moaned and wriggled and again returned the favor, licking and sucking the doctor. Robin slept well. Before breakfast, the doctor taught Robin about breast sucking. Again they ate in the nude, and before Robin left for work, the doctor gave her her first enema and inserted a slender rubber device into Robin’s anus. “That, girl, is to remind you, all day, that you belong to me now. Can you do that?” “Yes, doctor, whatever you want.”

All day, Robin was aware of that symbol of her submission to the will of Dr. Kreuzer. She knew there was no good reason for the anal plug, except as a reminder of her… humiliation at the hands of the older woman. As she worked, she was aware of it. When, at lunchtime, she was able to sit, she was even more aware of it. Once, in the nurses’ toilet, she pulled it most of the way out, but then thought better of it and pushed it back in. She worked it in and out, back and forth, noting the strange sensation, not unpleasant, as it teased her anus. At one point, if felt as if she should have a bowel movement, but of course there was no fecal matter to expel.

After work, the doctor said, “Leave your uniform on, girl. I’ll need you as receptionist tonight. Robin greeted a middle-aged woman, Mrs. Kelly, who arrived at the office, and Robin recorded that she was on time for her appointment. As instructed, Robin had the woman disrobe and put on one of those ridiculous disposable paper gowns. She led her into an examining room and had her lie on a table, with her feet in the stirrups. Robin had to stand by as Dr. Kreuzer performed a gynecological examination. “Now, Mrs. Kelly, you have been married for six months now, after years of being divorced. You say that your second marriage isn’t as satisfactory as your first.” “Yes, doctor.” “You have been taking the Premarin, the hormone replacement therapy I prescribed. I can see that the health of your genital tissues has improved. You find you are not as dry down there, right?” “Well, I suppose so, doctor, but still… I mean our bed time activities, they… well.” “Your husband can’t satisfy you?” “It’s not his fault. He tries. But…well, it’s not very exciting.” “When was the last time you had a good orgasm?” “Oh, ten years ago.” “Well, Mrs. Kelly, I don’t see any organic problem that would account for that. You are not ill. Wait here for a while, while I arrange for my nurse to give you some treatment.” She took Robin aside and gave her some orders.

“No, Doctor, I couldn’t,” protested Robin. “You do not say no to my orders, girl. You have earned yourself a spanking for that, and if you do not do as I say, a more severe punishment.” “Yes, Doctor.” Robin went back to the examining room and put straps around Mrs. Kelly’s feet, locking them in the stirrups, and passed a strap around her upper body and arms, so she could not sit up. She put on surgical rubber gloves. She tore away part of the gown that was in the way and wet a sponge with fluid. She sponged off Mrs. Kelly’s vulva, first outside and then, with the outer lips held apart, she sponged off the pink mucous membranes. “I don’t understand,” said Mrs. Kelly. “Shhh. I’m only following the doctor’s orders.” Robin inserted one gloved finger into Mrs. Kelly’s vagina, curling her finger toward the pubic arch and feeling for the G-spot. With the fingers of her other hand, she parted the woman’s hairy outer labia, holding a sheet of thin rubber stretched across the clitoral region. With both hands busy, Robin had to use her tongue and lips, pressing and sucking on the rubber membrane, along with two fingers on the G-spot, to stimulate Mrs. Kelly to an orgasm. In few minutes the patient was yelling, “Oh, God, that’s it. Oh, that’s wonderful! Oh, don’t stop.”

The doctor entered the room and said, “Well, Mrs. Kelly, are you feeling better?” “Oh, yes, much better. Better than I have in ten years.” “Do you think you will require any follow-up treatment, or is your problem cured?” “Oh, doctor, it’s so much better, but I do think I’d better come back again, soon.” Dr. Kreuzer turned to Robin and said, “See if you can make another evening appointment for Mrs. Kelly, next week, if there’s an opening.” “Yes, doctor.”

There was another patient that evening, a twelve year old girl, Janet, who was brought in by her mother, Mrs. Pasquali. Taking the doctor aside, the mother said, in a loud whisper, “Janet, my daughter, she…she keeps playing with herself. I catch her in strange places, like behind an arm chair or in the basement, with her hand between her legs. You know, rubbing the crotch of her panties.” “You want me to treat her for that?” “Well, it is unnatural. She’s only twelve. It’s… perverted what she’s doing.” “I’ll examine her, Mrs. Pasquali, to see if there is anything wrong, a vaginal infection or something like that that would make her uncomfortable. You know, an itch that she has to scratch or something like that. Is that what you want?” “Yes, doctor, whatever it takes to make her stop.” “Well, if you will please wait in the waiting room, I’ll examine Janet. My nurse will give you some paperwork and a medical history questionnaire to fill out.”

Janet looked a little frightened as Robin led her into the examination room. “Janet, I’m Dr. Kreuzer, and this is my nurse Robin. I’m going to have to examine your body, all right? Ok, then would you please take off all your clothes?” Robin folded them and put them aside as the girl took off everything but her socks. She noted that Janet was on the threshold of maturity. Her nipples extended from puffy areolae, with not much fatty breast tissue behind them, but that would be only a matter of time. The girlish slit between Janet’s legs had barely a fuzz of pubic hair. The doctor looked in her ears and down her throat and listened to her chest and did all the other standard things. Then, as the girl sat on the edge of the examination table, the doctor said, “Janet please lie back and raise your knees. That’s the way. I’m going to look between your legs, all right? Good. Have you ever had blood come from your slit, what’s called your vulva? No? Well, someday you will see some blood. Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Nurse Robin give you a little booklet that explains everything, OK?” Then, to Robin, she said, “Her hymen is present, quite intact. I don’t think a vaginal examination is needed.” To Janet: “Janet, your mother says you touch yourself down there. Is that right? Yes? Would you show me how you touch yourself?” Janet hesitated and then reached down between her legs and sort of pressed on her puffy little labia. “I know you haven’t been putting anything inside there, and that’s good. Why do you rub yourself there?” Janet shook her head but said nothing. “Does it feel good to touch yourself there?”

Janet nodded. “Your mother doesn’t like to see you do that. Of course, it does feel good, but you need to touch yourself when your mother isn’t watching. You know, if you know how, you can do that.” Janet grinned. “First, Janet, I want you to cross your legs and squeeze.” Janet did that. “Does that feel good?”

“Sort of. Not as good as when I rub.” “Here, give me your hand. Extend your first finger. Good.” Gently, the doctor parted her legs and guided Janet’s finger tip between her girlish labia. Slowly, she guided the finger toward the clitoris. “Does that feel good?” “Mmm. Yes.” “You practice a while and see if you can’t make it feel better.” Robin and the doctor watched as the girl explored and experimented, smiling when she found how good it could feel. “Now, Janet, it’s OK for you to do that when you are alone, and your mother won’t find out, perhaps in bed. Wash you hands, first, and afterward. If you are comfortable with it, you can do it with one of your girl friends, or even do it to each other. But I want you to remember; you must never do that with a boy or let him do it to you, until you are married. Boys can hurt you, even if they don’t mean it. Never let one see between your legs or touch you there, OK?” “Yes, Doctor.” “Robin, do you think you could do as you did with Mrs. Kelly” “Doctor, she’s only… of course, Doctor, if you order it.” The doctor left the room, and Robin said, “Janet, I’m going to show you something only another girl can do, OK? You can use your fingers alone, but this is special. You tell me if you like it.”

Robin didn’t bother with the sponge or the rubber sheet; she wasn’t afraid of infection. Very gently, she parted Janet’s labia and applied her tongue to the tiny nubbin of her clit. “Oh, yes, Nurse Robin, that’s nice!” Robin continued, and in five minutes or less, Janet experienced the first orgasm of her young life. “Oh, thank you. That’s wonderful.” Robin stood up straight and said, “Remember, Janet. Wash your hands. Don’t get caught. Don’t let boys touch you there. OK?” “Yes, I’ll remember.” “OK, get dressed now.” When Robin let Janet out to her mother in the waiting room, Dr. Kreuzer explained, “Mrs. Pasquali, your daughter seems to be in excellent health. I’ve explained to her that if she wants to stay healthy she shouldn’t rub her panties. That’s dirty. She says she understands, and you won’t see her doing it any more.”

Back upstairs, Robin began to undress and get ready for bed. The doctor watched her, until Robin was naked. “Robin,” she said, “you remember that I promised you punishment.” “Yes, Doctor.” “Remove the object from your anus and give yourself a soapy enema, to clean yourself out.” Somewhat reluctantly, Robin prepared a bag of warm, soapy water. She had no interest in “scat”, and she was not anally oriented. For her, an enema was punishment. The doctor watched her, making her continue until the water she expelled into the toilet was clear and clean. Doctor Kreuzer took a rubber glove and put the opening over a shower hose, fastening it with a rubber band. She lubricated Robin’s anus and inserted the hose and glove, as Robin stood with her hands on her knees. Slowly, hot water flowed into the glove. It unfolded and stretched and the fingers made their way deeper and deeper into Robin’s rectum. “Getting ass-fucked with a glove is a lot easier on you than having some man inside you. Consider yourself lucky.” The doctor made sure the glove was tied shut, leakproof, and then she pushed the end past the anal sphincter and replaced the plug Robin had worn all day. “I know you feel full and want to expel it, but you will hold it in until morning, when I tell you you can pass it. Understand?” “Yes, Doctor.” “Now, go bend over the bed.” Robin pressed her breasts against the sheet and raised her rump as she stood beside the bed. The doctor used a hairbrush, the smooth back striking the ass cheeks alternately. The warm mass in Robin’s rectum was jarred with each blow, exciting her perineal nerve, which serves the inner thighs, the vulva and vagina, and the anal region. The water in her rectum pushed the rectal walls against her vaginal walls, pressing on the G- spot.

On the sixteenth swat, Robin shook with an orgasm. “That’s enough, girl. Get into bed and lick my clit.”

All day at work, Robin was excited just to think of what Dr. Kreuzer might demand of her, and by supper time Robin was pressing her thighs together in anticipation. There were no patients that night, so they had time to play. They ate together in the nude, and the doctor said, “Robin, you have such a pretty vulva. I want a cast of it.” “Yes, doctor.” The bench and padded board were still in the bathroom, and Robin was quickly strapped down, with her knees spread and her rump upthrust. Of course she must be oiled, and she nearly had an orgasm just feeling the doctor’s oily hands sliding over her belly and labia and perineum, all the way up over the anus. Then came the plaster bandages, almost like rigid thong panties, and a long wait while the warm plaster set. The doctor massaged Robin’s breasts while they waited, teasing her to the brink of an orgasm but not over the edge.

When the doctor finally cut the plaster panties off and washed away the oily residue, she did not release Robin. “I have a treat for you, Robin.” She spread a towel over Robin’s back. Then she took a small plastic squeeze bottle. The label read, “Eau d’ Estrus”, manufactured by Synbiotics, of Malvern, PA., a veterinarians’ supply company. The doctor sprayed a single squirt into Robin’s vulva. She opened the door and Clem bounded into the bathroom. Robin could see in one of the mirrors that Clem’s penis, the size and shape of a carrot and bright pink, suddenly stood forth six or eight inches, with a golf-ball sized lump at the base. Clem instantly mounted Robin, his head behind hers, his forelegs grasping her body over the protective towel.

The doctor guided Clem’s red penis, and he thrust it deep into Robin’s sodden pussy. “Ah! I was a virgin!” she cried, as the long red member plunged into her. “Oh, God!” The doctor kept her hand between Robin’s vulva and Clem’s body, but even then the penis plunged so deeply that Robin could feel her cervix, her womb, being pushed out of place. She shuddered with another orgasm, and then the doctor removed her hand. The pointed red penis plunged even deeper, and the ball at it’s base ravaged Robin’s virginal vagina, stretching it beyond belief. Robin made incoherent sounds as Clem thrust into her with short rapid strokes, obliterating her hymen, stretching her vaginal walls. She felt him squirt seminal fluid into her. Then it felt as if he was expanding inside her like a balloon; the ball at the base of his penis grew to the size of a tennis ball! It was as if Robin were giving birth, with a baby’s head inside her, too big to get out. Clem now squirted even more, filling whatever volume was left inside her with clear seminal fluid. He tried to get off her, but the doctor restrained him, and he continued to hug her body with his forelegs, unable to withdraw his penis. When he struggled to withdraw that huge thing in her cunt, it pressed her G- spot, caressed the hidden roots of her clitoris, provided orgasms, one after another, for perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, until Clem’s penis finally shrank. When, at last, the doctor separated the two and released Clem’s new bitch, Robin lay on her stomach, softly sobbing. “Raped by a dog!” she wailed. “There, there, you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Now, get up and sit on the bidet.” With the doctor’s guidance, Robin positioned herself over the fountain of warm water which spewed straight up from the bowl of the bidet. It flushed out her trembling vagina and spilled over to impinge on her still swollen clitoris, bringing on another devastating orgasm. Robin was truly spent, as weary as if she had run a mile. She was glad when the doctor picked her up and carried her to bed.

Robin awoke to see light coming through the sky light. She heard the doctor in the kitchen and smelled fresh coffee and toast. Naked, Robin wandered out to see the doctor, similarly naked, setting the table for breakfast. “Good morning, Robin. Did you sleep well?” “Like a corpse.” “And did you enjoy your adventure last night?” “Oh, yes. I’m a bit sore down there, though. Is that what sex is like? I mean with a man?” “No, there isn’t one man in a hundred could do you like Clem. A man’s penis is small by comparison, and it doesn’t stay hard as long.” “Wow.” “But, you don’t need a boy friend, if you have Clem.” “Wow.” “Sit. Have some coffee. Sugar and milk?”

After breakfast, the doctor said, “You have a while before you have to go to work. Clem likes you. I think you should let him pleasure you.”

“I don’t think I could handle another session like last night.”

“No, just lie on your back on the bath mat and spread your knees. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She returned with a can of condensed milk, and she slowly let the sweet, viscous liquid flow over Robin’s labia. The next thing Robin knew, Clem was licking it up! “Hey! What’s he doing?” “Shush, Robin. Just hold still and enjoy. Move your knees a bit farther apart.” Clem’s cold nose pressed her mons as his tongue parted her outer lips and lapped up her suddenly copious fluids. “Oh, oh my!” Robin gasped. She clenched her teeth and hugged herself as delicious sensations raged in her pelvis. “OH, Oh, OH God!” she cried, as she shuddered and shook and finally relaxed, limp and sweaty. Clem, however, didn’t stop. Clem still lapped at her vagina, his tongue rasping over her excited clitoris. Twice more she writhed and moaned as indescribable, unstoppable spasms raged inside her. She effectively lost consciousness for a moment.

“Now,” said the doctor, “we’ll shower and plug you and get you to work.” The shower was another occasion for “hydrotherapy”, more water-induced orgasms, and a quickie enema, and a new anal plug. However, just before she dressed, the doctor inserted into Robin’s vagina two white plastic ping pong balls, connected with clear, monofilament fish line. “These are home-made ben-wa balls, better than the store- bought ones. Each plastic ball has a lead musket ball inside, which can roll around freely.”

As Robin walked the two and a half blocks to work, the little balls rolled inside the bigger balls, feeling almost as if a little animal was inside her vagina. At work, when she walked or climbed stairs, the sensation was very distracting. When she had some time alone, she found herself rehearsing dance steps, enjoying the “living” objects inside her.

After six days working, Robin got three days off, a scheme the hospital had devised to let three teams of nurses provide continuous coverage by two thirds of them. Dr. Kreuzer, by now, had Robin’s complete obedience, submission, to her direction. Robin resisted not at all when the doctor told her they were taking a little overnight trip upstate. “I’ve already packed some things for you, but I’ll dress you for the trip. Just stand there naked and let me work.” The doctor brought up from the basement plaster casts of Robin’s breasts and vulva, made by pouring plaster into the cavities formed in the plaster-soaked bandages by the convex parts of Robin’s anatomy. Dr. Kreuzer had painted the casts with a clear, translucent latex, which conformed like skin to the plaster replicas of Robin. The doctor moistened Robin’s right breast with a clear solution, mostly glycerine. Then she lifted the latex cover from the cast of the breast and carefully applied it to Robin’s real breast, guiding the nipple into cavity formed by the plaster nipple and smoothing the thing edges of latex down over Robin’s breast. She applied some “instant glue” to the edges and stood back to admire the effect. She repeated the application of latex to the left breast. “Look at yourself and tell me what you see.” Robin stood before a mirror and shook herself. Her latex breasts jiggled like real ones. “My breasts are a little bigger, but I look as if I’m naked.” Dr. Kreuzer touched up the areolas and nipples with a bit of color. Then, similarly, she applied the latex copy of Robin’s vulva. In back, a small anal plug anchored the latex second skin between her buttocks, and in front the latex flared out, covering approximately where the pubic hair would have been, had Robin not been shaved. Some adhesive on her mons held the feathered edge of the latex, forming an invisible seam with Robin’s skin. The coloring was perfect, and the slight added thickness of the latex, perfectly molded to Robin’s actual flesh, made her labia look a little poutier, more full, and her mount of Venus a little sexier. While Robin’s clitoris was hidden under mucous membrane, the replica twat displayed a realistic, penis-like clitoris peeping out between her succulent latex labia. Unless one knew what to look for, from a foot away she looked totally nude.

“What do you think, Robin?” “Wow!” “Comfortable?” “Like a second skin.” She did a little dance in front of the mirror. “If you need to go to the bathroom, you can pull the plug in back and and pull it up between your legs. Then , when the paperwork is done, smooth it down over your labia again and re-insert the plug to hold everything snug. Let me see you do that now, for practice.” It was easy, no difficulty at all, and Robin replaced the latex lips over her own. The smooth rubber clung to the skin perfectly. “You look, Robin, as if you are totally naked, but, in fact, you are legally covered. You could walk through a mall like that, and they couldn’t arrest you for indecent exposure inciting a riot, maybe. I got the idea from reading about the Columbian Exposition, more than a century ago, where the police objected to one of the tableau vivant exhibits with a bare-breasted woman. They painted her with latex and carried on as before. I really do like the effect.”

It was cold out, so Robin wore fleece lined boots and a fake fur coat, and nothing else. Driving up the interstate, Dr. Kreuzer told her to take off the coat and let the truckers have a look as she passed them. The doctor listened on a CB radio, laughing softly as the word went around about the naked babe in the black Mercedes. After fifty miles, a state trooper waved them over, but, after being told to touch the latex, he left, shaking his head and warning them not to cause an accident. Later, they stopped for food at a truck stop, and Robin let her coat gape open. The doctor laughed and laughed.

Their destination that night was a private party at an otherwise deserted resort hotel, busy in summer, empty in winter. There must have been two hundred guests, a lot wearing leather, mistresses and their slaves, transsexuals and transvestites, dykes and lipstick lesbians, gay male couples, every sort except straight heterosexual men. The doctor checked the coats and boots, leading Robin by a ribbon around her throat, with her wrists bound behind her back with a matching ribbon. Unable to use her hands, Robin was obliged to let others feed her, and sometimes feel her up, amazed that her juicy cunt was rubber and glycerine. One guest, wearing a low cut red evening gown, insisted that he should pierce Robin’s latex nipples, but the doctor objected, pointing out that underneath the thin pink latex nipples were real pink nipples, not sterile.

For entertainment, the various submissives were required to compete with each other in certain tasks. There was naked mud-wrestling and tugs of war in shallow pools of Jello. In one contest, female slaves inserted ever larger objects into their vaginas. A beer can was just the entry qualification. The winner held a small football inside her while climbing the stairs onto the stage. Robin, of course, was not able to compete in that contest. She did win a ribbon for prettiest tits, but was disqualified when the runner up complained that no one had actually seen Robin’s tits. There was a “wooden pony” game, where women, and one transsexual, were made to straddle a horizontal bar, facing each other, and fight with pillows. Robin won her first match, when her opponent banged her clit on the bar and retired in tears. Robin’s second opponent tried to twist Robin’s nipples with her free hand. Robin just laughed and retaliated, winning easily. Robin lost her third match, however, when her opponent pulled her forward on the bar so that it pressed against her protruding latex clitoris. It was not painful, as with her first opponent, but the pressure of the artificial clit on the real one underneath had Robin giggling and panting and forgetting to fight. The judge, giggling herself, disqualified Robin for excessive public orgasms and decreed that Robin must therefore compete for the de Sade Cup. That was the prize awarded to the subbie who could withstand the most whacks with a perforated paddle wielded by the owner of her competitor. Dr. Kreuzer did a magnificent job of decorating Robin’s opponent’s buttocks with countless red circles, where the flesh was squeezed into the holes of the paddle. Unfortunately for Robin, the petite brunette was a real pain slut, who just sank into sub space and dreamily accepted the worst of spankings. Robin wasn’t used to the pain and almost gave up, but then her torturer tried to enhance the pain by aiming between the legs, paddling those pretty puffy labia. Robin’s response was a series of orgasms which left her wanting more. Dr. Kreuzer finally called the match, as Robin’s backside was bright purple and starting to bleed. The eventual winner was a BBW who took her whacks with her DD breasts in a tit press and an electrical shocker in her vagina. The doctor supposed that, with such strong sexual stimulation, the paddling was hardly noticed.

In their room, in the early hours of the morning, the doctor praised Robin for her performances and lovingly rubbed her lacerated ass cheeks with topical anesthetic. When, well after sun up, they prepared to go out for breakfast, the doctor laid out some ordinary street clothes for Robin. “Please, doctor,” she said, “may I wear the clothes I came up her in?” After a moment of thought, the doctor said she could wear a T-shirt and shorts over the latex for breakfast, and take off the shirt for the ride home.

– The End –

by Libertine