-“Hello, Doctor,” the attractive brunette cheerfully greeted the man as he entered the small room.
“Pam Smith,” the lab coat-wearing gentleman read aloud from the paperwork on his clipboard, smilingly shook the new patient’s hand, and then returned his handsome visage to the data on the page. She’s perky, he thought as he read, a very patient patient, given how backed-up my appointments are today. “You’re thirty-three and here for a routine physical, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir, it’s been too long…” She was conscious of coming on too energetically, sitting wearing the silly paper gown that was embarrassingly open at the back did that to her. Calm down, Pam. Breathe… he’s just a great looking, well-heeled doctor with his own lucrative practice, and without a wedding band on the manicured ring finger of his left hand.
He set the clipboard down next to her on the examination table; felt the glands on the sides of her throat with a benignly vacant smile, “Any soreness or tenderness there?”
She smelled the mouthwash-scented breath, approved of the well-matched shirt and tie combination, restrained herself from reaching out to cup the testicular glands in his nicely tailored trousers, and asking the same question by returning the smile and shaking her head.
The good doctor held out a thermometer which Pam dutifully accepted under her tongue. She didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone in thinking about asking him to insert it elsewhere. As he gently but firmly raised her arm to wrap it with the blood pressure cuff, Pam felt the stupid gown come un-tucked from under her left leg, exposing that buttock if he were to view her south side from the north. She reached back to demurely close it some, as he pumped up the pressure, tightening the cuff’s grip on her bicep.
“Your numbers are all good,” he volunteered after listening to his stethoscope for a long minute.
“I used to take Valium, but haven’t needed to recently,” Pam said when her mouth was unoccupied again, broaching a subject that she wanted to explore later, when she felt more at ease.
“How about your weight, has that remained fairly steady?”
“I may have gained five pounds that I’d prefer not to carry around…”
“You’re still well within the norm, I don’t see where you hide those five pounds,” he understated.
“I’m sitting on it,” she smiled and blushed.
“Do you smoke?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, looking at her painted toe nails in shame, “but I’m trying to cut down…”
“I hope that it hasn’t been ‘too long’ since you saw your gynecologist last…”
“No, I just had a pap smear and check-up recently, all a.o.k.”
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes,” she smirked with a sparkling glint in her eye, which he doused when he said,
“At your age, we ought to start to be concerned about the pairing of that contraceptive means and your smoking.”
Feeling like a chastised five year old, she wanted to explain that she most craved a cigarette after sex, needed the pill in her life for that reason, so what did he suggest to break the vicious but delicious cycle? She abandoned this train of thought with his next query.
“Any problems in this area?”
Pam seized the initiative, seized his large right hand, and placed it on her left boob. “I thought I felt something here this morning…”
Looking dispassionate, the doctor reached underneath the gown, felt around expertly. She has wonderfully full, high-set breasts, he thought. Probably a thirty-six D cup. When he encountered the erect, rubbery hard nipple, both people had a problem appearing clinical.
After a thorough examination of this matter, he said, “I don’t feel anything unusual, but let’s keep an eye on it.” He thought that such pertness in tits that size and age was unusual, and wished that the bow at the nape of her neck would come undone, so that he could gaze at both beauties without the damn gown in the way.
“Was there any other concern?” he said, hoping that the tumescence in his pants wasn’t obvious.
Pam took a deep breath for fortification, and dove in.
“Yes, Doctor, just something I wanted to discuss…” She then felt at a loss for words on how to proceed, almost as if floundering in deep water. Pam pivoted on her hip so as to swing her legs onto the bed-like table and lay prone on her tummy, a move that a synchronized swimmer would’ve envied. Let your best asset do the talking, she thought.
The gown fell open in the back. Pam flexed the muscles of her backside. She felt the twin orbs stand up straight, but also felt a flock of goosebumps take flight across the entire expanse of exposed epidermis. She looked up at the doctor as seductively as she knew how. She knew how. But he was returning her eye contact impassively. His eyes met hers, never wandered to the nether regions of her derriere. The prostrate swimmer felt as if she was drowning.
“It’s my bottom…” she cooed, “do you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
It’s a magnificent pair of buttocks, he thought, a gluteus to the maximus. He placed a hand on each cheek, weighed their heft, judged the muscle tone, appreciated the cellulite-less baby fat, and reveled in the perfection of this sacral dimpled, plump, deeply cleft peach of a posterior. She relaxed, and he gently parted the pair, saw that the divide was a lovely valley where a hairless little rosebud of a rectum resided. The pink petaled, velvety dimple tightened under the scrutiny, then winked at him. It’s not ordinary in any way, it’s quite extraordinary.
“Out of the ordinary?” he repeated.
“Well… as I mentioned, I used to have to take a Valium regularly, just to be able to settle down in the evening. But, last night, Doctor, my boyfriend…” (For a girl who felt like she was drowning, her mouth sure was dry.) “…he playfully, well, not really that playfully…it kind of stung, stung to the point of burning…”
The doctor imagined that his patient was about to bring up the subject of anal sex. He was preparing the words in his mind; how most couples experiment with this at least once, how some find it pleasurable and some don’t, that a water-based lubricant and safe hygiene were the only relevant…
“…spanked me…He said that I was an incorrigible brat who didn’t appreciate the value of a dollar. So he held me down, and spanked my fanny… hard… Is my bottom bruised or…?”
The doctor looked at the area, and the patient in general, with fresh eyes. He ran his hands over the area once again. So many women today diet themselves down to where most feminine curves are nonexistent. Here was a woman who was voluptuous in a svelte sort of way, her hourglass figure was keeping great time. He massaged the buttocks like bread dough, which further leavened his manhood. The loaves were so mouth-watering. He parted them again, winked back at her asshole, saw that the other parted orifice was feeling friendly as well; there was evidence of her natural lubrication at the entrance to her vagina. The labia appeared slightly engorged. She was talking openly about a subject dear to his heart, the warming of a heart-shaped bottom with a loving but firm hand. Had the discussion done this to her? It was having a profound effect on him.
“There’s no bruising back here. It might be slightly braised, now that you mention it… I can’t really tell because you’ve been sitting on the area in question. Let’s have you remain in this position for a few minutes, then I’ll look more closely.”
She liked these words shared this way. Pam found it easier to talk to the doctor, this learned authority, a pillar of society, when she didn’t have to look him straight in his beguiling brown eyes. Looking at the examination table was much better, sort of like confessing to a priest in your own private space. This man was clearly no priest; this pillar had another one growing in his jockey shorts, tenting his pants remarkably. Pam was right at eye level with the medical miracle as it enlarged even more. Was this wood similar to Pinocchio’s nose, did a lie make it longer?
He cleared his throat.
“Tell me about this…er…spanking… Your boyfriend isn’t abusing you, is he?”
“Oh no, Doctor. He always says that he “loves my caboose.” We’d been playing around, had had sex just a few minutes before. Doug was lying on top of me, caressing me there, and he started giving me little love pats… They felt exquisite. I told him so. The pats grew stronger. I must confess that I liked that even more… I noticed that it was reigniting his desire… It made me feel lovely that my body could do that to him again, so soon after we’d just… He said that he wanted to paint my adorable caboose bright red, and began spanking me even harder. It got us both so hot; it was like we were on fire… He asked me what I’d done recently to deserve a good spanking. The only thing I could think of was that I’d just spent a little too much money on some refurbishing of our apartment. I mentioned this, and…and… he really let me have it. He held me face down on our bed, and spanked me until I had tears in my eyes… I just wanted to check and see if it was damaged at all…”
Pam had gotten a little excited during this recounting. She paused to re-regulate her breathing. The doctor stepped back from the head of the examination table to re-examine the patient. Her excitement had been contagious; he was rock hard and throbbing.
He once more placed his hands where she’d been man-handled recently. The flesh was fair, unmarked, unblemished by as much as a pimple. The light peach fuzz covering this ripe and juicy orb prickled to attention under the clinical caress, more goosebumps electrified her cool complexion. He manipulated the globes; they wobbled firmly, proclaiming that they were comprised of the perfect ratio of muscle mass to baby fat. He parted them for closer examination, penetrating eyes mere inches from his exploring hands. He could smell her feminine bouquet blending with the most potent aphrodisiac, the scent of soap. Copious quantities of viscous arousal now be-dewed the paper gown and sheet underneath her loins, as well as her loins themselves. Pam parted her thighs further, as the doctor parted the crease that continued down from one tiny rosebud to its larger sister. A very erect clitoris stood at stiff attention, throbbing in much the same way as the doctor’s dick was doing.
“So…” the doctor whispered confidentially, donning the role of counselor, as those in his profession often are called upon to do, “this spanking… it doesn’t seem to have done any damage to this part of your anatomy,” he said lightly patting her round tush. “How about this part?” and he gently rested his hand on her brunette head.
“That’s what I’m most concern…” she could feel her throat constrict as tears welled in the deep pools of her liquid large baby blue eyes. She took a moment, took a deep breath, cleared her throat. “…I’m rather… conflicted about that. Is it… normal to have liked it, to have been aroused by it, Doctor?”
“There is a wide spectrum of what can be called “normal” in terms of sexual tastes and appetites, Pam,” he said assuringly. He then cleared his tight throat, and proceeded, carefully choosing his words. “I don’t want to cross the line of decorum, but you seem to be a very healthy, very attractive thirty-three year old woman.” What he’d said didn’t seem to be getting through to her, she was softly sobbing into the paper sheet beneath her head, asking the crinkly parchment to absorb even more moisture than she’d already secreted down below. He ventured further. “I don’t know if you noticed, but your beauty, combined with a discussion that I found interesting to the point of titillating, has me very aroused, it’s entirely natural…”
“You get aroused by spanking, Doctor?” she asked vulnerably, looking up into his eyes for the first time since he’d examined her titty an eternity ago.
He was struck afresh with how wonderful the human body is, how its symmetry so appealed to the opposite sex. Two big blue eyes reached up to grab his attention, as her two pendulous breasts swayed beneath the flimsy garment. Erect nipples protruded through the latter, mirroring those beseeching irises. His glance wavered to her twin orbed bottom, a trigger for his own sexual taste. All of this flashed through his mind in a nanosecond, giving him invigoration to answer the troubled woman’s personal question.
“Yes, I find the thought of giving a female’s bottom a sound spank….”
“Not just the thought, Doctor, have you ever actually given a girlfriend a spanking?”
“Yes, Pam… it happens… to be something of a favorite in my repertoire of sexual pastimes…”
“You see it as entirely normal for two people to engage in… particularly if one… party has done things… to inspire a need for it… to have earned it and deserves…?”
She seemed so troubled, so perplexed about something so innocent, so within the realm of the doctor’s concept of healthy sexual expression, that, in exasperation, he became emphatic.
“YES! Pam, light to moderate spanking, if consensual, is not only normal, it’s fun; it’s a huge turn-on for a great many people… Look at what our innocent conversation has done to me…” he said openly, gesturing toward the massive erection that was straining behind his fly. She still looked tentatively unconvinced, when her baby blues flashed from his circus tent trousers up to his serious facial expression, so he bared his soul. “I have often focused on the portion of the female anatomy that I find most erotic, the buttocks, and administered playful pats to tingling taps, sometimes sound spanks, as well as some real rafter-ringers, when circumstances have called for a…”
“Spank me, then, Doctor…”
He froze, dumbfounded. He was conscious of his Gemini personality working on two levels simultaneously; luxuriating in hearing so sensual a creature say so seductive a phrase out loud to his somewhat closeted sensibilities, and hearing the heavy hammering of a malpractice lawsuit in his head. The judge’s gavel was imaginary, however, and this woman was unimaginably real.
“Please spank me… you just said that it’s entirely normal, and we’re both obviously very into it, and…”
“What about that boyfriend?” the good doctor asked, even against his every instinct. He was valiantly trying to be good, but it was hard, oh so achingly hard in the presence of this gift from above with the heavenly hindquarters.
“I made him up, along with that story about last night. It was all a fantasy, a fantasy I masturbate to nightly, dreaming of finding a man like you who shares my taste for…”
That was all he needed to hear. His Hippocratic Oath said, “First do no harm.” This would be sexual healing, as Marvin Gaye sang about, but of a heated variety. The doctor was going to soundly scorch her rounded bottom with a righteously well deserved spanking in retribution for all the mind games that this cock tease had just perpetrated.
But that didn’t mean it would have to be solely strict and painful. The doctor placed his left hand on the small of her back, just below her nipped waist, wide-spread fingers and thumb pushing down on sacral dimples, just to convey the strong message that she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. He then cupped her fulsome right cheek with his flat right hand. He no longer was of a divided mind; having to circumspectly inspect this heavenly body while harboring lascivious intentions behind a cloak of propriety. Now all was out in the open, the lovely lady who was full of questions was going to get what she been asking for, a good, old fashioned, bare bottom spanking.
Her cheek rippled under the moderate impact, then jiggled again, as her musculature flexed at the sting, and trembled slightly once more as the two orbs relaxed. His farmer-of-a-grandfather had an oft-used phrase, “Must be jam ‘cause jelly don’t shake like that,” which he’d never understood until now. He replicated his movements with a slap to her left cheek, and she reciprocated with mirroring reactions. The Bible says to turn the other cheek, so Pam showed her strong Christian belief by arching her lower back, offering her bottom up to the slaps willingly.
“Lying is as good a reason as any for a good spanking,” he pronounced, as if passing sentence.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, as if accepting her fate.
Neither kept count as methodical spanks were administered all over the expanse of her well-upholstered derriere, from where her butt crack began all the way down to her upper thighs, and from hip to hip. Neither could have kept track, as a hard and fast volley of rapid-fire spanks concluded this set.
He wasn’t seeing red; this spanking wasn’t administered in anger. It was done with malice of fore thought. The only redness was across her warmed fanny.
She wasn’t seeing anything; her eyes had the vacant stare of someone inwardly focused. This wasn’t the trace-like navel introspection of a mystic. She was visualizing how her radiant fanny must look, as she watched her fantasy brought to life. She was in for an honest to goodness adult spanking, she silently kept telling herself as a mantra.
His chastising hand now caressed her, wandering lightly over the surface, enjoying the nearly-uniform heat and hue. The only portion not glowing was the inner curves where her curvaceous buttocks sloped in toward her divide. But not for long. She was lying prone, from sternum to toes, flat on the paper-covered table, with her forearms propped up, so that her breasts, shoulders, and head were upright. Her hands gripped the leading edge of the table for support.
“Lie down all the way,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
He parted her fanny. “Reach back here with both hands and keep your bottom spread,” he said, and again, compliance was immediate. Loving the feel of flesh that emitted such warmth, Pam smiled contentedly.
Most of her other spankings had been administered over the knee. She liked this table because it defused the impact that could otherwise be transferred through her body.
Light spanks then fell on her inner curves, on her crack, on her asshole. They were just little stingers, but the cumulative effect was sublime. The spanking made oft-ignored nerve endings come to life, sing for joy. When this flesh was thoroughly warmed, the doctored then trailed a tickling finger from where her spine ended downward. Her sphincter spasmed with delight, her vagina gushed wantonly.
“Please, may I touch myself,” she screamed with lust.
“You are touching yourself; you’re holding your cheeks wide apart. The view of your valley is so breath-takingly beaut…”
“NO! I mean touch my sex… I need to… please!”
“Oh…well, alright then.”
“Ooooh,” she sighed softly as two fingertips swirled around her honey pot… “Uuuhh,” she gasped, as the fingers were forced into the tight opening, coming out coated with her cum… “Uuummm!” Pam ejaculated, as the fingers swept around and around her erect clitoris.
The doctor studied her masturbatory methodology as hard as he might have for the state certification boards. Every woman was different in their technique, and he wanted to know hers.
Every woman’s sexual organs are unique, as well. Pam had puffy outer lips when engorged, coral colored inner labia that reminded the doctor of a conch shell. They formed the shape of a wish bone, with her eager little clit forming the juncture where both sides met. He wondered just how lucky he was going to get. It was a sublimely sensual sight to watch her play with herself, pluck her sex’s heart strings, and make such melodious music on her Stradivarius of a vagina.
After just a short concerto, warmed-up as her instrument was by the best foreplay she knew of, Pam reached her first crescendo of a climax.
“I’m…going…to…come…” she whimpered, as if announcing its arrival would assure the ephemeral experience.
With fingers darting in and around her sex, the doctor put his hand back on Pam’s lower back, and his other hand on her pink-tinged tushy.
The spank, he saw, was not an interruption, but an ally to her efforts, so he gave her more. He watched as muscles tightened and inhibitions relaxed. Almost as if the violin that they both played upon transformed itself into a living bow; the drawstring tightened, and strained, and extracted all the energy that it could contain, and then, whhhooosh – ZING, a flaming arrow of orgasmic ecstasy was released. Arrow after arrow was sent soaring, until the woman’s quiver was depleted and her nearly-nude body lay quivering on the table. Another physician might have covered her with a blanket; our doctor knew another way to warm her.
The doctor, having spanked Pam through her multiple orgasm, asked her to remove her hand and re-grip the table’s edge. It showed the amount of respect that she held for the esteemed authority figure when, contrary to her body’s pleading, Pam complied.
A thoroughbred race horse comes out onto the track and warms up its finely tuned, high-strung physique before running the actual race. Pam now saw that all she’d experienced so far was just that, merely a warm-up for the big event. The man above her would put her through her paces, demand the utmost from her; urge her, push her, drive her, whip her flanks, work her into a lather. The filly in Pam threw her head up proudly, whinnied silently, and figuratively pawed at the imaginary ground in readiness.
“It seems that this naughty little girl likes telling lies. I’d like to cure you of that bad habit right now, young lady.”
“You realize that you’re in for the spanking of your life?”
“Ow… yes, sir…”
“You’ve earned this, Pam.”
These spanks were harder. These had a purpose. These spanks were meticulously placed, even though they came at a slightly faster tempo. Before five had landed, tears shimmered in the big blue eyes. Before the tenth hit home, Pam was scissoring her thighs together fiercely to contain the heat. When it became clear that it wouldn’t be a set ten or twelve, a set that she could manage, she gripped the table with all her strength in order to hang on, and relaxed every other muscle, giving herself over to the ordeal.
Endorphins flooded her system. Like a body in shock shuts down for self-preservation, a body undergoing great exertion, such as a sound spanking, rises to a higher physical plane, thanks to these miraculous hormones. Every slap still stung, but Pam was slightly removed from the mounting pain, like that filly would be, as she charged down the homestretch. Oblivious to her screaming muscles, to the oxygen-starved lungs, to the thrashing hand, Pam galloped, then soared. She had what felt like a full body orgasm, every constraining band that tied the human form to earthly existence was undone, broken, with the exception of the one niggling whisper in the back of her mind that said it was all too intense, surely she must be floating away from life itself, soaring too high.
She came back to reality who knows how much later. Her body was more alive than it had ever been in all her thirty-plus years, her bottom radiated with the inner glow that painters depicted in portraiture by a halo around some saintly figure’s head.
The doctor was trailing ten fingertips delicately across her blast furnace of a bottom. It brought sensation back to flesh that was nearly numb. It brought back the goosebumps, but this time they felt more like a swarm of swans.
She swallowed to enable a throat that must have been screaming to speak.
“I want more, push me further, take me higher…please.”
“You have such a beautiful derriere…” he said, hoping that she knew her limits best.
“Go on…” she whispered.
“No, it’s true, it’s absolute…”
“I know it’s true, go on, spank me more, even harder; I want it, I need it, you know that I deserve it.”
“You do have more to answer for…”
“How dare you smoke?”
“You are a miracle,”
“my wet dream,”
“and you’re committing slow suicide!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Every hard spank was another rung up the ladder to sexual ecstasy; Pam knew it as tangibly as the facts that a firm table was beneath her, the firmament above, and a firm hand was belaboring her behind. She was scampering up the rungs as adeptly as a firefighter.
“Yes…” she murmured, and the doctor knew that she was on the doorstep.
The examination table had a stair step. In a twinkling of an eye, the doctor was up it, on her, unzipping his trousers. His flat belly grazed her tender fanny.
“Yes…please,” she repeated, arching up for it.
The filly had been brought from the track to the breeding shed. The doctor unleashed his manhood, a raging, snorting stallion that reared up fearsomely. It nudged against her soft, reddened cheeks, which further inflamed the rampant charger. He found the receptively wet entrance, and pushed forward to the hilt. Pam stiffened, shuddered, began the involuntary rocking rhythm that every wild female creature knows instinctively. Pam was just as fit internally as her outward appearance proclaimed; she gripped his erection in her velveteen vice. It all proved too much for our star-crossed pair. He pistoned into her, loving how her resilient bottom bounced beneath him. She took the hammering, knowing that every thrust brought her closer to nirvana. They could feel it; that bow string being fitted with its arrow, two at once this time, as a matter of fact. They could feel the arrow heads being ignited, then the string being drawn back, further and further, the archer’s hands, then arms, finally whole body trembling with the effort. Surely the string would snap or the stout bow would crack in half. Tension built to well beyond the breaking point, then held there, silent, straining.
“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh,” she bathed him in her climax.
“Urgh…urgh…urgh…urgh…urgh…” he replenished the lost liquid by pumping spurt after spurt back into her wellspring.
The French, who know a little about lovemaking, call it ”le petite morte.” That translates to mean a little bit of death. When the body can’t handle the stresses that sex brings about, it faints. The doctor fainted dead away on top of Pam, she with him still inside her. They awoke as if reborn, as if different people entirely.
“Oh, God… that was incredible…role playing takes sex…to this whole higher level…I’m no longer me…I don’t have any problems…I’m no longer the least bit pre-orgasmic…I….I…I love you with all my being, Todd!”
He smiled, kissed her, carefully withdrew, so as to lie next to his wife of three years.
“You’re a dynamite little actress, Stephanie,” he enthused.
She blushed, demurred, “I think that dime-store kid’s medical kit, this massage table and that lab coat are the best purchases we’ve made in a hell of a long…so, got any ideas on what scripted characters to work on next, lover boy?”
Her hand naturally fell upon his manhood, which she massaged proprietarily. His was drawn to her rosy red heart-shaped ass, the apple of his eye.
“We’ll think of something… Let’s not rush things, I want to enjoy this game’s possibilities for all they’re worth…Tomorrow, I think that a stoned college co-ed who ate too many munchies should pay a visit to the doctor’s for an enema. Then he can enlighten her on the evils of marijuana…”
Stephanie wiggled her fanny like an excited bitch wags her tail, smiled serenely, and implored, “Do we have to wait until tomorrow, hon, that sounds so hot, and my butt isn’t that sore?”
“Well…” her massaging hand and lascivious smile seemed to rouse him.
His magic wand was stiffening, and, as it waved about, a transformation overtook the girl on the examination table. She sat up, but in a slumped posture, her eyes glassy, and her speech thick.
“Hey, Doc, what’s happenin’?”
“Miss Owens, Suzie Owens, is it? I see by your chart that you’re twenty and going to State College. How can I help you today?”
#12) Here’s to Your Health – mild sexual content
-“Hello, Doctor,” the attractive brunette cheerfully greeted the man as he entered the small room.