(A tiny medical / gyno tit-bit from the up-coming volume 2... or volume 3, who knows? Click on title for next Vol 2 extract)
For this girl from now on her 'examination pants' would indeed live up to their name. Her vagina was going to gape through the transparent crotch window, the outer lips distended, darkly shadowed beyond the confines of the gusset, the inner labia squeezed smearingly against the steamy-moist polythene gusset panel. The girl, herself, would soon learn to appreciate the futility of guilty fumblings; true those sensitive lips would protrude, would ache for attention unbearably, but that all important release button, the clitoris, might as well have been excised. The stiff coiled-wire reinforced rubber protective clitoris hood would always separate her fingers from her release. And yet fingers of another sort were to be granted access, would not be denied in fact; a fine soft latex fringe would tantalise and brush gently with the slightest of movements.
In the coming months, even years, Matron would decide, she would learn to rock back and forth like the imbecile she was to become. Deliciously subtle sensations, sometimes even wonderful, heavenly sensations, would pursue her toward a quest without end, towards an all consuming and never ending obsession with unobtainable perfection. Forever in the foot-hills, the highest slopes attainable with the utmost concentration but always the final ascent just too abrupt, just too sheer; the summit forever out of reach, but only just, tantalizingly just the wrong side of normality.
As for 30C, this treatment was going to do her the world of good. Dress her in her ‘examination pants’ with this dilating grommet in place like some permanent speculum; why, it was going to work wonders for her. Pride was, after all, a sin and sin must be punished.
Externally the health-professional exuded detached efficiency, her expression, passive, inscrutable; simmering below, Matron, the woman, was breathless, floating in an untouchable, dreamlike reality. Here was a reality lying beyond mere rules, ethics and imposed limitations – a reality that owed its substance, the possibility, truth and probability to the carte-blanch freedom so uniquely afforded by this oh so very special institution.
In the coming months, even years, Matron would decide, she would learn to rock back and forth like the imbecile she was to become. Deliciously subtle sensations, sometimes even wonderful, heavenly sensations, would pursue her toward a quest without end, towards an all consuming and never ending obsession with unobtainable perfection. Forever in the foot-hills, the highest slopes attainable with the utmost concentration but always the final ascent just too abrupt, just too sheer; the summit forever out of reach, but only just, tantalizingly just the wrong side of normality.
As for 30C, this treatment was going to do her the world of good. Dress her in her ‘examination pants’ with this dilating grommet in place like some permanent speculum; why, it was going to work wonders for her. Pride was, after all, a sin and sin must be punished.
Externally the health-professional exuded detached efficiency, her expression, passive, inscrutable; simmering below, Matron, the woman, was breathless, floating in an untouchable, dreamlike reality. Here was a reality lying beyond mere rules, ethics and imposed limitations – a reality that owed its substance, the possibility, truth and probability to the carte-blanch freedom so uniquely afforded by this oh so very special institution.
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