by Loki Renard
“Hi,” she said, feeling shy. She really was in the middle of absolutely nowhere with a man she barely knew, about to embark on an experience like no other. She’d expected to feel naked without her phone, but she would have felt naked no matter what she had with her when Paul looked at her with those deep green eyes.
“Well, you two have fun,” Chase said in bubbly tones that reminded her of the days before she’d fucked everything up. He flashed Paul a bright smile, tossed Chloe’s bags out of the car, and left before she was done looking at Paul. It was a swift exit, one made before she could change her mind and throw herself back into the car.
In a matter of moments, she was alone with Paul. She looked up into his handsome face and felt a little nervous tremor run through her. It felt as though the whole world was spread out around them, and yet he filled her vision with his bulk and quiet, but strong presence.
“So, uh, what now?”
“Come into the tent and we’ll start with a basic medical exam.”
Chloe was instantly suspicious. “A medical exam? Why?” She left her bags where they were and followed him into the interior of the tent, discovering that it was set up very simply. At one end were two cots with scratchy blankets atop them. There was a gas cooker and a chest or two that he said contained basic rations. It was small and totally devoid of any kind of source of entertainment. She ached for her phone, but Chase had confiscated that as soon as she’d gotten into the car. There would be no contact with the wider world for the duration of her seclusion.
The other end of the tent contained a bunch of specialized equipment. Most of it was painted green and had yellow numbers and letters embossed on it. There were screens with radar and something that was probably a radio, and a medical kit from which Paul was getting his medical supplies ready. He looped a stethoscope around the back of his neck and gave her a warm, professional smile before answering her question.
“This is going to be an intense experience. I want to know you’re in good shape before we get started.”
“Of course I’m in good shape,” she said with a little frown. “I don’t need a medical, I had one a year ago.”
Her complaints rolled off him like water off a duck’s back. Paul crooked a finger at her, then pointed to one of the cot beds. “Come over here and sit down. We’ll start with your blood pressure.”
She hesitated. She’d only been at camp for two minutes and already she felt as if she’d lost every shred of self-determination she’d ever possessed. Paul gave orders as naturally as he breathed. He didn’t shout, and he wasn’t being rude, but there was no doubt that he expected to be obeyed. Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted to be docile with him. She felt all tight and nervous at the prospect of being ordered around for two long weeks.
He waited, his left brow slowly creeping up as she stalled wordlessly.
“Uh…” she said, fairly incoherently. “I don’t…”
“Sit down, Chloe,” he said firmly.
She found herself sitting, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Her mind was in rebellion, but her body had obeyed him without question.
Paul kneeled down before her, one knee up, almost as if he were about to propose. Instead of a ring, he had a blood pressure cuff in his hand. “I’ll need your arm.”
Chloe rolled her eyes and extended her arm. She hated medical examinations. There was something about doctors that made her go all quivery and nervous. She’d almost forgotten that Paul was a doctor thanks to his hyper-masculine appearance and casual dress. He looked like a marine, not a doctor.
His eyes ran over her in that appraising medical way that made her even more nervous. He’d always had an air of authority about him, but now he was going to examine her and it felt more intimate than any medical examination she’d ever had before. Usually they took place in brightly lit rooms with people so professional they were barely distinct from robots. Usually her doctors were women. There was nothing feminine about Paul.
“You could have just gotten me to get a medical before I came,” she complained.
“I could have,” he agreed, wrapping the cuff around her upper arm. “Hold still and breathe normally.”
Breathing normally wasn’t easy around him; he made her heart skip a beat, her pulse race, her breathing pick up the pace. Though she was sitting still, her body was humming with energy.
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because I wanted to do it myself,” he said, inflating the cuff with a few quick squeezes of the rubber bulb held in his other hand, before glancing at the readout. “Take a few deep breaths, try to calm down.”
“You wanted to get your hands on me, you meanie.” She gave him a smiling, coy look. Paul had been playing it pretty cool up until this point, but there was definite heat between them. A desire that was flowing even in the lightest, most professional touch of his hand. Flirting with him distracted her from how nervous she was, and there was a small chance that she might be able to make him blush and feel a little more in control herself.
“I wanted to make sure that it was done properly,” he said in a tone so flat she almost thought she had been imagining the chemistry… until his fingers brushed over her wrist and her pulse began to race again.
“I don’t trust Hollywood doctors,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Your medical records were clean, but…”
“You got my medical records?”
“They were supplied as part of the contract,” he said. “You signed off on it, among a great deal of other provisions and clauses.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right. So, uh… is this going to be one of those exams where I have to take all my clothes off?”
She was flirting boldly now, teasing him and his formality. She almost wanted to shock him, as nothing so far seemed to shock him very much at all.
“You can take them off if you like,” he smirked, his green eyes flashing down at her with a dash of humor and that intangible quality that made her stomach flutter. He unsnapped the cuff from around her arm with a little tutting sound. “Your blood pressure is elevated, but so is your pulse. We might have to wait until you calm down a little to get a proper reading.”
“I’m calm,” she lied. Usually her acting skills were good enough to make people believe her, but Paul had hard data to the contrary and all she got from him was a raised brow and a shake of his handsome head.
“It’s alright to be excited.”
Excited. That wasn’t quite it, but excited was better than ‘aroused.’ If he’d said that, she would have blushed so hard it would have made his blood pressure reading head right off the charts.
He unlooped the stethoscope from around his neck and put the little rubber earpieces in his ears. Chloe sat still as he got up, momentarily casting a masculine shadow over her, then propped one knee on the bed next to her and pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Breathe deep.”
She took a breath, lacing her fingers together to stop them from trembling. He made her the strangest combination of excited and nervous and horny and…
“Breathe,” he reminded her.
Chloe hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, but his reminder made her take a deep gasp. No wonder she was feeling so lightheaded and silly. Oxygen deprivation.
“Do you smoke?”
“No.”
He moved back a little, looked her in the face, and asked her the question again in a tone that made her hips start to wriggle. She felt like every part of her existence was being examined, not just her lungs.
“Do you smoke, Chloe?” His dark brows drew down and together as he asked the question.
“Socially, sometimes,” she said. “I don’t do it just… normally.”
“You should cut that out.”
“Why? Is there a problem? Do you hear something? Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said. “It all sounds nice and clear, but you should quit smoking, even socially, anyway.”
“Right,” she replied. “I’ll keep that i
n mind.”
She had no intention of keeping that in mind. She could have done with a cigarette in that moment. It would have calmed her nerves, which were still dancing with excitement all over her body.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re deliberately making this examination difficult,” he said, his tone filling with medically stern censure.
“I’m not doing anything.” Chloe batted her eyelashes playfully. “It’s not my fault my body isn’t doing what you want it to.”
“Isn’t it now,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking in a smile she found devastatingly attractive. “Whose fault is it, then?”
“Yours, probably,” she said. “You’re the doctor.”
“I see how it is,” he said with a little smirk. “Lie down on the bed, turn over, and pull your pants down, please.”
“What?” The blood rushed in Chloe’s ears so loudly she really wasn’t sure she had heard him properly. “Why?”
“I’m going to take your temperature, and give you a tetanus booster,” he said. “Best you have it now, just in case you get any scratches or cuts out here.”
She was blushing so hard, her face felt like it was going up in flames. She’d been given vaccinations in her bottom before, of course, but never by a doctor this handsome. If she took her pants down, there was a chance he’d see just how… excited she really was.
“Lie on your tummy,” he said more gently, but in that tone that somehow made her do as she was told even though she didn’t want to. Chloe reluctantly swiveled around to lie face down on the bed, her arms wrapped around the thin white pillow, pressing her mouth against it as Paul’s fingers found the hem of her leggings and peeled them down over her bottom. She was glad she’d worn a thong. It gave her some modesty even as he uncapped the syringe.
“I don’t like needles,” she whimpered. “Ouch!”
He’d jabbed the needle quickly and fairly painlessly into the fleshy part of her left cheek before she’d really gotten to complain about it.
“There,” he said warmly. “All done. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“I guess,” she said, pushing up from the bed. Before she could move more than half an inch, she felt Paul’s hand between her shoulder blades, pressing her back down on the bed.
“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got to take your temperature.”
“Huh?” She didn’t understand, until she felt the string of her thong being slid to the side and her buttock spread slightly. With the realization of where he intended to take her temperature came a reflexive squirming that put her on her side, her hand back over to protect the little bud he was planning on entering. “Not there!”
“This is a rectal thermometer,” he informed her. “It goes in the bottom. Now turn over, please.”
“I’m not running a temperature. You don’t need to take it!” She wished she’d worn a longer top, one she could have pulled down over the front of her crotch. The scant modesty of her thong suddenly wasn’t nearly enough. She was keenly aware of the loss of her leggings and utterly disoriented. In a matter of minutes with Paul, she found herself half naked and about to have her bottom penetrated. How could this have happened?
“I’m taking it so I have a baseline for you,” he explained patiently. “Some people run a little hotter or colder than others. If you get sick later on, I’ll be able to tell how much of a temperature you’re really running. Now roll over onto your tummy, please.”
“I don’t want to,” she whimpered.
“Chloe, when you signed up for this, you signed up to my command,” he reminded her. “That means doing as I tell you. And right now, that means rolling back over onto your stomach and letting me take your temperature.”
“But…” Her objection trailed off into a pathetic whimper.
It had no effect on Paul whatsoever. He was totally resolved. He made a rolling motion with his finger, the order now silent but no less emphatic.
She shook her head, just as silently. Two could play at this gesture game.
“Are you this much trouble for your regular doctor?” He asked the question with a half-smile, though she didn’t think he found her refusal funny.
“My regular doctor doesn’t examine me in a tent. I don’t have to live with my regular doctor for two weeks. I don’t have to follow my regular doctor’s orders.” She pulled her knees up to her chest so she was a little less vulnerable—or so she thought.
“That will work,” he said, putting his hand on her outer thigh. She realized a little too late that though bringing her knees up had made her crotch less visible from the front, it had made her bottom protrude at the rear. She squirmed in place as he pressed the gel-covered tip of the thermometer to the sensitive little star of her anus. “Now, hold still,” he cautioned gently. “Don’t start rolling around with this inside you.”
She gasped as the thermometer slid into her bottom. He used it quite expertly, smoothly introducing it past the tight outer ring of muscle and holding it between his index and middle finger once it was an inch or two inside her. Chloe realized she’d made a mistake in rolling onto her side. If she’d stayed on her tummy, she would have been able to hide her face in the pillow. Instead she found herself looking into Paul’s eyes.
“Good girl,” he praised, keeping the instrument inside her. “Just a little longer. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
It didn’t hurt at all. If anything it felt sort of good. The muscle of her bottom was tight around the plastic probe, and his fingers were warm against her skin, so close to her pussy that if he shifted even the slightest bit, the heel of his palm would be pressed against her…
“Mmnn….” She let out a little moan as he made contact with her pussy. It was a very light, passing touch, probably accidental, but it teased her lower lips regardless. They were covered with the light silk of her sheer underwear, a modesty that didn’t feel modest at all as the soft fabric transmitted his touch.
“Are you alright? Is there any pain?”
“No,” she said. “No pain.” She was so embarrassed she could barely form the words. Her usual smart mouth had totally deserted her.
He twisted the thermometer slowly inside her, rotating it with a gentle touch that stimulated the tight ring of her bottom in a way that made her clit tingle beneath the satin veil of her panties.
It was the hottest thing that had happened to her in recent memory, perhaps since ever. She was totally at the mercy of a commanding doctor who was making free with her bottom and perhaps would want to examine her even more intimately.
“Where are you in your cycle?”
“Huh?” She didn’t know what he was talking about at first.
“If you get your period during this exercise, that’s something we’ll need to take into consideration.”
“I’m not going to get my period in the next two weeks,” she blushed. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“You’re not on birth control of any kind?”
“No,” she said, feeling quivery at the topic of conversation. It was so intimate, though she supposed she understood the reason for his questions. This experience was already shaping up to be much more intense than anything she’d imagined.
He drew the thermometer slowly out of her bottom, wiped it with an antiseptic cloth, and inspected the dial. “It’s 98.7. You do run a little hot,” he noted. His other hand was still on her bottom, a gentle touch that she fancied as being possessive.
Though she was glad the thermometer was out of her bottom, Chloe didn’t want him to stop touching her. She didn’t want to pull her pants back up. Didn’t want him to move away. Didn’t want the moment to end.
“I’ve had a bit of a sore stomach,” she said, the first words that came to mind leaving her mouth.
“How have you been eating?”
“Uhm, just…”
“I’m guessing it’s not a lot.”
“I eat whatever I want,” she said. “I eat candy and… things.”
“You e
at rubbish and not much of it,” he said with an authority that presumed more knowledge than he could possibly have had—unless Chase had been ratting her out again. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t constipated.”
It didn’t sound as hot anymore, the discussion of her most basic and private bodily functions. And yet there was something reassuring about the way he spoke to her. He was taking care of her; that was what it was. Nobody took care of her. They demanded things of her, they adored her, they lusted for her, but since moving to Hollywood, Chloe had not been touched or talked to in the way Paul did, with simple human concern for her well-being.
“I’m going to give you an enema.”
The simple sentence made her heart start to pound and sent her hands back to cover her bottom. “I really don’t think I need… I mean… no, thank you…”
“Very polite,” he smiled, his masculine cheek dimpling. “But these are doctor’s orders. You’re about to undergo an experience like no other. You’re going to need to be in top shape. Trust me, you’ll be glad to be spared any digestive issues.”
“But…”
“Just stay in that position, it’s perfect,” he said, reaching for more supplies from an olive green box that seemed to contain every potential embarrassment in the world.
* * *
Just as Paul had suspected, Chloe was already trouble. He didn’t blame her for being a brat, it was practically her job, but it was a real change from dealing with people who snapped to attention when he gave an order and practically fell over themselves to execute it. Discipline was going to be difficult with this one, he could tell.
Still, she was keeping the position he’d told her to, though she very much didn’t want to. She was adorable, her big brown eyes giving him the most pitiful look, which would have broken his resolve if it weren’t for the fact that she really did need to be in good shape for what was coming. Celebrities were made to look healthy, but as far as he could tell, the lifestyle was anything but healthy. Eating little and poorly could lead to constipation, and then, once she got into a decent diet, the opposite. Better to perform an enema now than risk her languishing with pain later on. It was embarrassing for her, but he wasn’t there to make sure she wasn’t embarrassed. He was there to give her some kind of understanding of the role she was playing… and maybe, he privately hoped, set her straight. Everything he’d seen of her so far told him that she was a smart, talented girl going down a bad path. With any luck, this experience would be more than a film to her.
