The Clinic — Part 1: My First Examination (Full Video) Stepp..

The Clinic — Part 1: My First Examination (Full Video)

Stepping into the sterile, dimly lit room, I felt a strange mix of nerves and anticipation curling in my stomach. The clinical smell, the faint hum of medical equipment, the cold leather of the examination chair—everything about this place was designed to make me feel small, vulnerable, exposed. Just how he wanted me.

When the my Owner—my doctor for the day—entered the room, his presence alone was enough to make my body instinctively react, spine straightening, heartbeat picking up pace.

I could feel his eyes roaming over my body, analytical, detached, as if I were just another subject to be examined. It always aroused me when he looked at me like that. Like I was an object, a specimen, a body meant for use and testing rather than a person with thoughts and emotions. It made me wet before he had even touched me.

He stepped closer, cool latex gloves brushing over my thighs as he spread them apart. I swallowed, already feeling the slickness between my legs.

“You’re always so easy to work with,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he traced his fingers along the soft folds of my pussy. A sharp inhale left my lips as he parted me, exposing everything to his trained hands. There was no tenderness in his touch, only efficiency. His fingers slid through my slit, pressing, prodding, testing.

“You’re already dripping, patient,” he mused, spreading my wetness with his fingertips. “Let’s see how reactive you are today.”

I had no time to brace myself before the wand was pressed firmly against my clit. A jolt shot through me, my thighs twitching in response. I gasped.

The sensation was instant, overwhelming. The vibrations traveled through my entire core, making my body jerk against the restraints. He didn’t ease into it, didn’t give me time to adjust. He simply increased the intensity, watching, waiting, gauging my response.

“You’re too sensitive,” he noted, his voice clinical. “Too weak.”

I moaned, hips shifting involuntarily, trying to push against the wand and yet somehow also retreat from the overstimulation. It was a brutal mix of pleasure and torment.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “That won’t do. We’ll have to train you.”

And just like that, the wand was gone. I whined at the loss, chest rising and falling rapidly as I struggled to come down from the edge he had so cruelly denied me.

But he wasn’t finished. His fingers replaced the wand, slipping inside me without hesitation, curling, stretching, pressing against that perfect spot that made my legs tremble.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured approvingly, his gloved fingers working deep inside me, coaxing out every last drop of arousal. He pushed in harder, his thumb circling my clit, making me cry out. My body was beyond my control, shaking, pulsing, desperate for more.

And then… nothing.

He withdrew his fingers, stepping back as if the past few minutes had never happened. I was left gasping, throbbing, my walls clenching around nothing. I was so close. So fucking close.

But this wasn’t about my pleasure.

This was about assessment. Training. Obedience.

He wiped his gloves clean, removing them with a snap before walking over to his desk. Without a word, he sat down, pulling out a clipboard, making notes as if I wasn’t still sprawled out before him, slick and used and aching for release.

I had been dismissed.

But I wasn’t going anywhere.

I knew what was expected of me.

Carefully, I did as I was told earlier and slid to my knees, crawling toward his desk. My place was there, under him, waiting, ready.

He barely acknowledged me as I settled between his legs, my hands moving to undo his belt, pulling down his zipper. His cock was already hard. My inspection had affected him, after all.

I took him into my mouth without hesitation, wrapping my lips around his length, taking him deep. My tongue pressed flat against the underside, savoring the way his body tensed at my touch. I loved these moments… when I was simply an instrument for his pleasure, a tool for his release.

I focused, bobbing my head, sucking greedily, working him with every ounce of skill I had. Above me, I heard the scratch of his pen on paper, the occasional rustle of documents. As if I were nothing but a background accessory, a means to an end.

It only made me wetter.

He finally looked down at me, running a hand through my hair.

“You’ll continue training at home,” he told me matter-of-factly, as if he were prescribing medicine. “Use the small wand on yourself. Combine it with anal beads. You need to learn to take more, to endure more. Your body is too delicate.”

Anal beads.

I had never used them before.

I bit my lip, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine.

“Yes, Doctor,” I whispered.