At the age of 23, Courtney was beautiful, rich and incredibly conceited – and she hated men. She wasn’t a lesbian, as such – it was simply that the only proper place she saw for men in the world was as servants and accessories.

Nevertheless, she also insisted on having only the best – and the best gynaecologist in town, by all accounts, was a man – Dr Evan Kepler. So when her family doctor suggested that she might benefit from having a specialist gynaecological appointment, she immediately arranged to be placed on Dr Kepler’s books.

At Dr Kepler’s office, she felt awkward about some of his requirements. She had never had a proper Ob/Gyn appointment, and didn’t really know what to inspect. Dr Kepler asked her to undress completely for his inspection. She felt humiliated, standing naked in front of a fully-dressed man, but he was a professional, and presumably knew what he was doing. Besides, he immediately complimented her.

“You have such well-curved hips,” he told her, as he made notes on his tablet. “Such perfectly-formed generous breasts. Such beautiful blonde hair. There should be more women like you in the world.”

She blushed – she had always loved compliments on her appearance – and thanked him.

A smarter woman may have asked questions about Dr Kepler’s unusual word choice, but Courtney was not that woman.

Then he put her in his inspection chair. She lay backwards, her legs resting in elevated stirrups, spread wide open to give him access to her vagina. To her surprise, he strapped her arms down, too.

“A full inspection involves some penetration,” he warned her. “Sometimes it makes the patient jump. This will stop you from hurting yourself.”

And he placed a sleeping mask over her eyes, blindfolding her.

“The ceiling lights are very bright, I’m sorry,” he apologised. “It’s best you don’t look directly into them. This will protect your eyes.”

She felt goosebumps rise on her skin at the realisation that she was blind, restrained, with her cunt completely vulnerable. But that was normal for a gynaecological inspection, wasn’t it?

Dr Kepler placed two fingers on her pussy – spreading her pussy lips wider – and then began to gently massage her clitoris. She jumped – and was immediately glad that her arms were restrained. She blushed. Jumping like a teenager, at what must surely be a normal part of the gynaecological inspection.

“Are you on birth control, Courtney?” asked Dr Kepler as he massaged her pussy.

“No,” she answered.

“Good,” he replied. “And are you sexually active, Courtney?”

“No,” she admitted. “I’m a virgin.”

“That’s very good,” he answered. “For the inspection, I need your vagina to be lubricated. I’m just going to keep massaging you to help you lubricate.”

She blushed as she realised that she needed to become aroused for him. This was humiliating – or it would have been, were it not a regular medical procedure. She had to admit that his fingers on her pussy *did* feel good. She tried to relax, and allow herself to get wet – and sure enough, she quickly found herself becoming aroused. To her surprise, the blindfold and the restraints actually seemed to help. It felt good to be so secure, so unable to move.

Her breathing quickened, and her nipples stiffened, and her pussy began to throb with lust. Once Dr Kepler was satisfied that she was sufficiently wet, he slid two fingers into her fuckhole, and began to pump them.

Courtney gasped. It was the first time her cunt had ever been penetrated by something other than her own fingers or a sex toy. She had heard that a woman’s first penetration was rarely satisfying – but for her, it was the exact opposite. Something about being restrained, blindfolded, and wet in front of a clothed, professional man tripped a switch in her brain – and, completely unable to stop herself, she heard herself make a low, slutty moan, as she began to shudder and orgasm.

Dr Kepler pulled back immediately. “That’s disgusting, Courtney,” he said, and Courtney immediately felt full of shame. “I’m just trying to conduct a procedure here, and you’re orgasming like a common slut. It’s sexual harassment. I won’t have it in my office.”

Courtney was unable to move or remove her blindfold. All she could say was, “I’m sorry, Dr Kepler.”

“Did you know that there’s a punishment fee for women who orgasm in my office?” asked Dr Kepler. “Five thousand dollars per orgasm. It was on the paperwork you signed when you came in.”

Courtney said nothing. She was rich. She could afford five thousand dollars – but still, it was a lot.

“Are you going to pay the fee for orgasming, Courtney?” asked Dr Kepler. “Bear in mind that everything in this office is filmed, and if you dispute the charge, I’ll be obliged to play the footage of you cumming like a whore for a judge, in court.”

Courtney went even brighter red. “No,” she said. “I’ll pay it.”

“Good,” said Dr Kepler. “Try not to cum again.”

And he went back to pumping his finger in and out of her pussy.

Courtney tried to behave. She tried not to be a slut. But she just couldn’t. Barely a minute had passed, and she was cumming again. And this time it was worse – she even squirted a little, on the doctor’s hand.

He very deliberately moved around the table and wiped his wet hand off on her left breast. It felt strange to have a man touching her breast – stranger still to feel the shameful wetness of her ejaculate smeared over her nipple.

“That’s another five thousand dollars, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler. “You know this isn’t normal behaviour, don’t you?”

“Yes,” moaned Courtney, wanting to cry with shame.

“I think you might have a disorder of the sexual organs, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler. “A rare condition that is making you unacceptably sensitive and slutty. If left unchecked, you could find yourself uncontrollably orgasming in public within a year. Would you like me to treat it, Courtney?”

She felt unsure. Was this a real thing? Was there really something wrong with her pussy, that was making her cum so easily? She didn’t normally orgasm so quickly from her own fingers – but then, when she masturbated, she wasn’t normally restrained and blindfolded. 

But Dr Kepler was the professional. He knew what he was doing.

“Yes, please, doctor,” she said.

“The treatment will require multiple appointments, Courtney,” he told her. “You’ll need to attend every morning for the next sixty days. I don’t want to begin it if you’re going to back out. Do you promise to attend?”

“Yes, Dr Kepler,” she promised.

“See that you do,” he said – and then laughed. “Maybe we’ll use the footage of you cumming as incentive, yes? If you don’t turn up, maybe I’ll share it around with some of my colleagues.”

She blushed. “I’ll turn up,” she said. “Please treat me.”

“Very well,” said Dr Kepler. “The treatment involves the application of a liquid ointment deep inside your vagina. I’m going to use a probe to administer it. In my experience, many women find it unpleasant to have a cold metal object inserted into them, so I’m using a device with a softer exterior, that’s been heated to room temperature.”

She waited – and a moment later, she felt something push into her pussy. It certainly wasn’t metal – it felt almost fleshy. It was hard – but not *metal* hard – and its tip was wet. It pushed into her – and then withdrew. In – and then out. In – and then out.

She began to breathe faster. She felt herself moan. 

In – then out.

And, unable to help herself, she orgasmed again.

“Another five thousand dollars, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler.

The thrusting continued – and then there was a warm wetness within her. The probe had delivered its medication. It withdrew.

And then she squealed with pain. Dr Kepler had placed some sort of – well, a clamp, it felt like – on her pussy, gripping her pubic mound, squeezing her pussy lips together painfully, trapping whatever medicine he had injected her with inside her cunt.

“Ow!” she protested.

“I know it hurts, Courtney,” said Dr Kepler. “But we must ensure the medicine takes hold. I have locked the clamp in place. You will not be able to remove it. I will take it off tomorrow, when you return for your next treatment. You may find your underwear will not fit comfortably with the clamp in place, but I give you permission to go without.”

Her let her out of the bindings then, and she blushingly dressed. Dr Kepler was right – the clamp on her pussy lips was a large metal thing, and her underwear did not fit properly over it. Embarrassed, she removed the panties again, and trusted her skirt to cover her groin. 

And then came the matter of payment. Six hundred dollars for the appointment itself – and another fifteen thousand dollars in total for her three orgasms.

“The bad behaviour fine will be processed separately,” Dr Kepler told her. “It will show up on your bank statement as ‘orgasming like a slut’. Please sign this document to indicate you agree that you sexually harassed me by orgasming three times during my professional procedure.”

She signed it. She didn’t know what else to do. She remembered Dr Kepler hinting that he would share the footage of her embarrassing behaviour if she didn’t pay her fines. 

“Good girl,” said Dr Kepler as she signed – and she winced inwardly at the patronising tone of his words, and felt a little bubble of anger somewhere deep inside her.

But Dr Kepler had filmed her orgasming inappropriately in his office. She had a clamp holding her pussy lips closed that only Dr Kepler could remove.

“Will I see you tomorrow, Courtney?” Dr Kepler asked, as she prepared to leave.

“Yes, sir,” she said, in a quiet voice – and even then, she didn’t know why she had said “sir”.

“Good girl,” said Kepler again.

And if she didn’t know better, she might have thought that he knew just how humiliating that phrase was for her. And that the light in his eyes suggested that there was far worse humiliation still to come…

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