A Bad Girl’s Lesson – The Institute Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
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I forgot again—about the gag. I tried to say, Oh, God, and it came out as another of those humiliating whimpers. All the while the doctor had delivered his horrible speech, his eyes had moved back and forth from his tablet screen to my face as he registered the terrible depth of the need those degrading words stirred up in me. Worse, Nurse Cathy had accompanied the doctor’s sermon with the rubbing of her gloved fingers, covered in cool, slick lube, exactly where I needed their friction more than I could ever have imagined I might.

I came. I couldn’t keep it back: the climax simply washed over me. I closed my eyes tightly and I cried out around the gag. I struggled against the restraints, my head threshing back and forth as the shocks of the orgasm rocketed through my nervous system.

I heard the tablet give a double chime.

“Well,” said the doctor from the darkness behind my shut eyelids, “seems like we won’t need the trainer after all. We got our baseline. Cathy, could you get a speculum out, please? We should have a look inside.”

CHAPTER 3

Marianne

I heard a tiny click, and the buzzing from the device in the doctor’s hand switched off abruptly. I felt like I could never open my eyes again: the thought of the expression of disgust I knew I would see on Nurse Cathy’s face made me want to vanish into a hole in the floor. I heard drawer noises and plastic noises. I chanced it and opened my eyes, only to see that the left side of the awful woman’s lips remained curled into a sneer as she held out the transparent speculum to the doctor.

He took it from her, and she stepped aside, out from between my raised and spread feet, so that he could sit on his wheeled stool and pull it in close. I bit my lip hard, feeling my forehead crease with the hot flood of embarrassment that mounted to the roots of my hair. I had never enjoyed gynecological exams, obviously, but I had never imagined that a doctor could somehow make them worse than they already were.

To my absolute horror, I heard his tablet give another chime. The doctor had just donned a headband with a light affixed to the forehead, which I might have been able to find ridiculous if I didn’t happen to be gagged and bound naked to his exam chair. Instead, it seemed sinister, and that impression didn’t fade as he looked over to where he had put the tablet, atop the cart.

“You might as well mute that,” he told Nurse Cathy. “Seems like she’s just going to keep setting it off.”

I watched him turn back to me—to me, but not to my face. The doctor focused instead on the part of me that seemed to represent the only important part to him, and to the judicial system… and, apparently, I tried and failed not to recall from the nurse’s ominous words, to some firefighters who would… what?

“I understand you’re intact down here, Marianne,” said the doctor matter-of-factly. “So we’re not going to put the speculum in very far. I wouldn’t mind rupturing your hymen, frankly, just to make certain you’re ready to serve your sexual partners properly, but I know people have some old-fashioned attitudes—especially the sort of men whose lives this program is designed to make a little more rewarding. So, I’ll leave your vagina as I found it and let them make a woman of you the traditional way.”

He accompanied these degrading words, whose clinical tone seemed to make them even worse, with the sudden insertion of the speculum between my pussy-lips. My cry of dismay, around the horrible rubber ball in my mouth, sounded terribly pathetic—almost as if I meant to tell the asshole doctor to go on: as if I too wanted to make sure these “Daddies” Nurse Cathy had spoken of could enjoy deflowering me as they should.

I felt the beak of the plastic thing start to open, just inside my vagina. Knowing that he hadn’t pressed it in very far at all, because even at nineteen, even having tried to scam a wealthy executive with my good looks and my feigned innocence, I hadn’t yet actually become a woman, made the shame much worse. The fact that I had just come, as the nurse applied lube to my clit, under her gloved fingers, deepened the feeling even further. To my distress, instead of giving me some kind of relief, the humiliating orgasm seemed to have increased the shameful need down there even further. I had to bite my lip so hard I tasted the metallic tang of blood to keep from crying out.

“She just recalibrated,” the nurse said. I looked up from the doctor’s frown of concentration as he focused on the treasonously warm, much too exposed region between my thighs to see that Nurse Cathy had turned her attention to his tablet. The nurse’s voice had a note of surprised disdain in it that told me that whatever the fuck recalibrated meant, it wouldn’t make me happy.


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