“What?”
The word left me in a stunned breath.
Knox tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”
I stared at him, my pulse climbing. “You’d really examine me?”
“Yes.”
My face flushed so fast it hurt. A hard spike of hesitation pinned me in place.
How was I supposed to navigate this?
Yes, he was a doctor, and this was technically an exam. But he wasn’t *just* a doctor. He was my brother’s friend. My senior. The man I’d been secretly wet for.
Letting him cross that boundary to touch me felt... dangerous.
But the thought that this ache could actually be cured—that I might finally live without that sharp, crippling tension ruining my shifts and my life—flooded my veins with dizzying relief. I’d been too ashamed to tell anyone about the tightness wrecking my body.
My brain ran hot, all logic evaporating completely. I didn't expect him to be this willing or this ready.
But since he was... fuck it. I was doing this.
I gave a shaky nod. “Okay.”
He didn’t look away. His eyes looked darker, deeply focused.
That gaze tracked my movement as I hooked my thumbs into my panties and slid the wet and sticky fabric down. I stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor, and straightened up under his stare.
His face stayed perfectly neutral. I caught a faint swallow, his jaw flexing just once.
I didn't know if I was overthinking things, projecting my own desperate fantasies onto him, or if that brief, sharp flash in his eyes meant something else entirely.
He stepped forward.
“Sit.”
His hands settled on my waist, warm and firm. He guided me back until my thighs hit the chair. He pushed me down slowly. Then he took my ankle and placed my foot into the metal stirrup. The other followed. He spread my legs wider until the cool air kissed my exposed cunt.
I felt so open. So fucking exposed. My pussy lips were puffy and slick from earlier. My clit throbbed with my heartbeat.
He lowered himself between my thighs. His hands slid under the hem of my gown and pushed it up, baring me completely. Then his face was right there. Hot breath washed over my wet folds.
Jesus.
Knox…
Oh my God.
“Okay,” he said, his voice rougher. “I’ll begin the examination now.”
Normally, a gynecologist uses gloves. Knox always did. I’d watched him glove up for every patient. But he didn't do it this time. He was using his bare hands.
One large palm settled over my pussy, cupping me. His fingers spread my lips open. He started rubbing, using slow strokes through the slickness. My hips twitched.
“Ahhh…”
He didn’t stop. One thick finger found my entrance and pushed in. Slow. Steady. Stretching me open inch by inch while my walls fluttered around the intrusion.
“Nnghh—fuck—”
The sound tore out of me.
My face flushed the second the moan slipped out. I slapped both hands over my mouth, my eyes wide.
“I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so sorry—”
Knox chuckled. The sound surprised me.
“It’s fine, Maya.”
He tried to press his finger deeper, but paused. His brow furrowed slightly. “The tension here is severe. It’s making it difficult to examine the deeper walls without causing you discomfort. Do you happen to have any lubricant in that bag of yours?”
My face burned hotter. I gave a jerky, embarrassed nod. “Yes. In the side pocket.”
He reached over, pulled my bag from the floor, and retrieved the small bottle I kept with the toy. He squeezed a thick ribbon onto his fingers, rubbing it between his hands until it glistened. Then he lowered himself between my thighs again.
The moment those thick fingers pushed back inside me, I bit down on my palm to muffle my voice.
“Mmph—nnghh—”
God. His hand felt so good. Hot. Strong. Stretching me open in a way the dildo never managed. He worked a second finger inside, scissoring them slowly. He rubbed along my walls like he was mapping every inch.
“Tell me exactly where you feel the pressure,” he murmured, his tone carefully neutral even as his movements shifted. “Is the tension localized here?”
“Yes—ahh—right there,” I managed, my hips twitching.
He nodded, pressing steadily. “And when I apply pressure to this area… does the muscle spasm ease, or does it ache more?”
“It… ahh… it feels better.”
I could barely string a thought together.
The way he moved felt far less like a clinical assessment and more like he was intentionally trying to unravel me.
“Does it hurt here?”
His fingers thrust harder, a wet squelch filling the quiet room.
“No,” I breathed. “Please… don’t stop. Keep going.”
He did. He finger-fucked me steadily, curling against that swollen spot. My thighs shook. The stretch burned in the best way. My juices mixed with the lube, dripping onto the chair. I kept my hands clamped over my mouth. Every thrust dragged another muffled whimper out of me.
Was this really an examination?
Was this how a pelvic exam was done?
I doubted it. But he claimed this was an examination, so I played along—especially since I was getting so much pleasure.
“Nnghh… ahhh… fuck—”
It went on and on. His fingers pumping and rubbing until my body trembled. The pressure built so fast I couldn’t stop it. My walls clamped down hard. Then I was squirting, messy pulses of fluid spraying across his face and chest as I came with a broken cry.
“Oh God—I’m sorry—”
Embarrassment crashed over me. I tried to close my legs, but he was still between them. He just smiled, wiped his face with his hand, and slowly pulled his fingers out. The wet sound was filthy.
“It’s fine,” he said again, still smiling. “Completely fine.”
He stood, cleaned his hands, and looked down at me while I sat there soaked.
"The reason for this pain is simple," he said. His deep voice vibrated right through me. "You’ve been a virgin too long. Your body is tight because it’s never been stretched by a real cock."
He didn't look away. His dark eyes held mine, tracking the hot flush creeping down my chest.
"If you find a man to fuck you right," he continued, the rough word sounding sharp in his calm tone, "someone who will fill you, stretch those walls, and keep filling you until you learn how to take it... the tightness will ease. Maybe disappear."
My mind went blank.
A real cock.
God, I wanted his. The thought hit me so hard my thighs trembled against the chair.
He watched me for a long second. His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering just enough to make my breath hitch, before dragging back up.
"Fix yourself up, Maya," he finally said, his tone turning strict as he turned to wash his hands. "Your shift isn't over."
I slid off the chair on weak legs. My hands shook as I grabbed my wet panties, shoving them into my bag. I smoothed my scrubs, desperate to escape before I did something crazy—like beg him to give me that treatment right now.
I reached the door, my cold hand closing over the metal handle.
"Maya."
I froze, glancing back.
He leaned against his desk, his white coat pushed back. A slow smirk curved his mouth.
"Don’t forget," he murmured, his eyes dark. "You can always come to me for help. I’ll always make sure you're taken care of. No matter what."