by Zoe Blake
The wooden stool scraped as the doctor now took a seat to gaze at her exposed cunny. Charlotte’s cheeks flamed scarlet.
With a sharp cry, Charlotte desperately tried to close her strapped down knees as she felt something frigid and smooth push against her cunny entrance.
“Easy,” chastised Dr. Stacid. “It is just a speculum. Most doctors do not agree with their use, finding them too intrusive but I find them invaluable for truly testing a girl’s maidenhead.”
Charlotte marveled how he could so casually ramble on about medical tools while he was down there. She could feel her tight entrance stretch to accommodate the metal blades of the speculum. It felt odd to have something pushed inside of her but there was no pain, just discomfort.
“These metal blades are only about three inches long so there is no worry of breaching her maidenhead accidentally. Once I screw them open wide, we will have an unobstructed access so there will be no doubt as to her purity or…ahem…otherwise,” said the doctor in a monotone. Lord Asherton nodded as he moved closer, his steps quiet. This next part of the examination would determine his future happiness.
“How dare you imply I am not pure!” raged Charlotte, missing the subtle fact the doctor’s comments were not directed at her. “I will endure this no…”
Her rant was cut off when the doctor twisted the knob on the speculum, causing the two blades to separate inside her body.
“Oh! Ow! Ow!” cried Charlotte as with every twist of the knob the blades widened, stretching her entrance and causing a painful expanding deep inside her body.
“Stop! Stop!”
“Relax. This will cause you no lasting harm. Your body will adjust.”
The speculum caused an awful distortion to her cunny entrance. Forcing it open in a large circle about two inches wide. “Nurse, the lamp and the glass probe if you please.” The glass probe was a glass tube slightly wider than the width of a pen about ten inches long.
A soft whisp of air could be felt inside her body as the doctor exhaled after leaning in close. Something was being pushed inside of her but with the awful stretching of the speculum, she could feel only the soft brush of it as it touched her sensitive flesh. When it cleared the blades of the speculum, she could feel the probe more distinctly as her body closed around it. Charlotte held her breath as she felt a sharp pain when the probe pushed against some kind of resistance deep inside her body.
“Ow, please stop. That hurts!”
“Just one more time to be sure.”
The Doctor pushed once more against the clear evidence of her maidenhead. He then gestured for the nurse to step back with the lamp and looked up at Lord Asherton. With a clear nod of Dr. Stacid’s head to confirm the evidence of her virginity, Lord Asherton visibly relaxed.
Gently pulling the probe free and releasing the speculum, he congratulated Charlotte and apologized if it appeared her purity was in doubt.
“You are doing wonderfully, dear,” said the nurse as she stroked Charlotte’s brow. “Almost done.”
Charlotte’s cunny throbbed and stung. There was a strange sensation of the objects still pressing her insides even though she felt them being removed.
“Nurse, please take Lady Charlotte’s temperature,” instructed the doctor. “I will return in a moment.”
Charlotte could hear the soft, shuffle of feet and the door opening and closing.
“Was there someone here other than you and the doctor?” she asked.
“Don’t ask silly questions,” scolded the nurse as she dipped her index finger into a jar of lubricant.
Charlotte was beginning to dread the scrape of the stool on the polished wooden floor, knowing it always led to something dreadful and degrading.
The nurse’s left hand spread open Charlotte’s lower bottom cheeks. Her right index finger pushed against Charlotte’s tightly closed entrance.
“No, Nurse! No, please take my temperature in my mouth!”
“With a rectal thermometer! You speak such silly things, dear!”
The nurse’s finger traced the puckered ridges of Charlotte’s bottom hole. Gently coating it with lubricant as her finger swirled and circled. When she was satisfied enough lubricant had transferred, she pushed just the tip of her finger past the resisting muscle.
“Oh…no…no…no!” Charlotte moaned as her head moved side to side in her misery. Like the probe, it wasn’t painful just very unpleasant.
The nurse twisted her finger to and fro working it deeper into Charlotte’s bottom, making sure to spread the lubricant evenly. After her finger was pushed in past the first knuckle, she easily pulled it free, only to replace it with the cold tip of the glass thermometer. The nurse forced the long six-inch glass tube deep into the dark recesses of Charlotte’s body.
“Stay still. It needs to rest there for at least a minute to get a proper reading,” said the nurse, checking the watch pinned to her uniform.
While Charlotte was enduring this humiliating way to take her temperature, Dr. Stacid and Lord Asherton were conversing in the hallway.
“Congratulations, my boy!” said Dr. Stacid as he clapped Lord Asherton on the shoulder. “Your intended is pure.”
Asher smiled, taking the doctor’s good will as his due. “Do not forget I also wanted her rectal tolerance checked.”
“Yes. Yes. Nurse is preparing her now. Shall we?” asked the doctor, gesturing to the door.
Both men entered the room. Asher once again marveled at her creamy skinned perfection. Anxious for the time when she would be strapped to a bed awaiting his own pleasure.
The doctor once again took up position between her open thighs as Asher watched closely over his shoulder. Pulling the thermometer from her bottom, he had the nurse make yet another note.
“Now we are almost finished. We just need to test your bottom. It is important to know how much you can take up this narrow little hole so that you are not injured.”
Scrutinizing her shaved cunny, he exclaimed, “I see you have been enjoying our examination more than you have let on.” He ran a finger down the seam of her cunny and raised its glistening tip for Lord Asherton’s observance.
So his intended became aroused from pain and humiliation, thought Asher. It was just further proof he had made a wise decision in granting Lord Brunswick’s request to take his errant daughter off his hands. He thought he was going to have to slowly initiate her into the pleasure to be had from first experiencing the release of pain. He was pleased to see he could move forward more swiftly with his plans for her.
The nurse dipped the tip of another long glass probe about nine inches long and a half inch thick into the jar of lubricant. Handing the generously coated probe to the doctor, she positioned herself by Charlotte’s side and once again stroked her hair.
Dr. Stacid parted Charlotte’s bottom cheeks and rested the tip of the probe against her forbidden entrance.
The nurse tried to soothe Charlotte as she saw the girl’s bosom rise and fall with each agitated breath. Placing her hand inside one of Charlotte’s above the restrained wrists, she said, “Squeeze my hand, dear. This will be a wee bit painful.”
Charlotte whimpered but said nothing, as she was too busy biting her lower lip in fear.
The doctor applied pressure but despite the lubricant, the probe did not budge. Her bottom hole was clenched too tightly. Used to this kind of response from innocent ladies who were not used to having their bottoms violated, the doctor calmly slipped his index finger and thumb between her smooth cunny lips and gave her clit a hard pinch. Charlotte’s startled cry of pain was amplified when the probe easily slipped an inch into her bottom.
“I find a little distraction when applying a punishment or something your girl will find, shall we say unpleasant, can do wonders,” Dr. Stacid said with a smile to Lord Asherton, who nodded his assent.
Once again, Charlotte missed the implication of the exchange, too lost in her own shame at having something pushed into her bottom hole.
The
doctor slowly pushed the probe in deeper, watching as her bottom hole swallowed the clear glass tube inch by excruciating inch. Charlotte began to squirm and whine. It felt wrong, worse than the thermometer. As the probe pushed further, the uncomfortable feeling slowly built into a feeling of pressure and the occasional sharp twinge of pain.
“We are at an impressive five inches. Good girl,” admired the doctor as he patted her inner thigh. “Now let’s see if we can’t get you to take another two inches.” Moving his hand to get a firmer grip on the probe, he dug his fingers into her bottom seam and pulled her cheek open even further.
At this further indignity, Charlotte could no longer keep quite. “You must stop! Please, I beg you. It’s all too much!”
“Just a little further. The human bottom cannot take more than seven inches without a threat of harm. You are almost there,” murmured the doctor, distracted by his task.
Asher watched with fascination as her tight bottom reluctantly accepted the probe. He was having a difficult time restraining his interest in a gentlemanly fashion. He closed his eyes and tried to banish the image of a far larger object forcing and stretching its way into her tiny bottom hole.
Charlotte felt a fierce stabbing pain causing her stomach to cramp. Digging her fingernails into the nurse’s hand as she cried out. Her bottom clenched so tightly she feared the probe would break off inside her.
“Good girl. You have taken the whole seven inches,” said the doctor calmly. “You have an impressive bottom hole.”
Charlotte started to cry. It was all too much…too much. Suddenly she felt the soft brush of knuckles down her cheek, brushing away the tears. There was a soft touch of lips against her forehead. Inhaling, she detected the subtle notes of musk and tobacco. She had not smelled the earthy, masculine scent earlier when the doctor was examining her mouth, puzzled Charlotte.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice hoarse from crying.
The only answer was the soft closing of the door.
Chapter Three
Her First Spanking
It had been a difficult fortnight at the Brunswick London townhouse…to put it mildly.
After recovering from her shock of such a humiliating and thorough examination, Charlotte sought out her mother and demanded an explanation. Her mother refused one. This shocked Charlotte even further. Her mother rarely stood up to her, especially when she was in high dungeon. Tried as she might, even going so far as to throw a few expensive porcelain figurines into the fireplace, no answers would be forthcoming until Lord Brunswick returned home.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Charlotte pounced on him. “Father, I absolutely demand an answer!”
Catching his wife’s anxious but happy look, he determined the examination had been a success. Against the odds considering her wild behavior, his daughter was still a virgin which meant the banns could be read. She would soon be off his hands.
Ignoring Charlotte’s indignant ranting, he moved to his study and poured himself three fingers of brandy, thought better of it and poured a bit more.
Taking a long draft, he pointed to a vacant chair in front of the lit fireplace. “Take a seat, daughter. We need to talk.”
“I’ll stand,” she stubbornly replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
Shrugging his shoulders with indifference, he was used to her disobedience by now, Lord Brunswick lowered his considerable girth into a plush chair. His wife entered and stood behind the chair, her hand on her husband’s shoulder as a show of support.
“You have been promised in marriage to the Duke of Asherton. The wedding will take place in three weeks,” he blurted out with no preamble. “The doctor was here today to ensure your purity.”
Charlotte was so taken aback that for once she was at a loss for words. She soon recovered. Unleashing a barrage of curses, affronts and denials on her long suffering parents. Raising her nose in the air, she glared at them both before declaring “over my dead body” and sailing out of the room.
Lady Brunswick sat in the vacant chair. “Well that went better than we had hoped,” she said cheerily. Her husband harrumphed his agreement.
Charlotte raced up to her room. Ordering her lady’s maid out, with a screech she fell face first into the pillows on her bed. This cannot be happening. It was her own fault she thought with dreadful honesty. Her parents had been pushed too far with her antics. She should have expected this to be the result but why him! Him! Of all the lords of the ton, why did it have to be the one man she knew instinctively she would not be able to control? The one man out of a ballroom full of men that made her heart skip a beat the few times she had caught him watching her. The one man who both frightened and captivated her.
***
Charlotte stayed in her rooms for the remainder of the evening, only emerging to satisfy the demands of her stomach the next morning. Having spent the night alternating between crying, raging and pacing, she was worn out but resolved. Even she knew better than to defy her parents or risk a true scandal with the ton in this regard, so that only left one alternative. She needed to force the Duke’s hand.
Charlotte smiled as she thought of her perfect plan. She would behave with such abominable manners and cause such scenes at every ball between now and the proposed wedding date that the scandal alone would force Lord Asherton to call it off. He would be reviled for his caprice and she would be coddled and soothed over her disappointed hopes.
“Good morning parents,” she said with mock sweetness.
Lord and Lady Brunswick exchanged a worried look over their teacups. Charlotte was up to something.
“We are glad to see you in such…er good spirits,” said Lady Brunswick.
“Why shouldn’t I be? Lady Liddell’s ball is tonight,” responded Charlotte with obviously false cheer as she buttered a sweet pastry ignoring her mother’s disapproving look at her overly sweet morning meal.
Lord Brunswick cleared his throat. “About that. Your intended feels it would be best if you curtailed your social engagements until after the wedding. He insists on no balls, musicales or outings. You may go on supervised morning calls only.”
“We will see about that,” Charlotte declared, leaving the morning room, no longer hungry.
Later that evening, Charlotte glided down the main staircase dressed in her most daring and fashionable gown. She was buttoning her gloves when her parents emerged from the parlor.
“You cannot go to the ball.”
Charlotte ignored them as she crossed the hallway with a determined flounce.
“Charlotte we need to warn you…”
Charlotte cut them off. “I care not for your warnings or Lord Asherton’s demands. I am going to the ball!” Her perfect plan depended on it, she thought.
Her parents made no further protest as a servant opened the door and Charlotte breezed through only to be stopped just outside the door by a large footman in a different livery from their household.
Lord Asherton had already anticipated Charlotte’s response and took advance measures to curtail her.
“Out of my way,” she ground out.
“I cannot do that, your ladyship. I am sorry,” responded the strange footman keeping a steady gaze over her head.
“Are you daft? Move!”
“I cannot do that, your ladyship. I am sorry,” he repeated.
“Stop repeating that infernal phrase! On whose authority?” she asked, already dreading the answer. “Who do you work for?”
“The Duke,” came the simple response.
Charlotte felt an unwelcome flutter in her breast at the heavy handed approach of her future groom. Shaking off the unwanted feeling, she retorted with icy sarcasm, “So I am to be his prisoner?”
“I cannot answer that, your ladyship. I am…”
The rest was cut off as Charlotte slammed the door in his face.
Yes, it was a difficult fortnight at the Brunswick townhouse…to put it mildly.
***
It was C
harlotte’s wedding day but you would never know it from the lack of activity in her dressing room.
“Please, miss. Please let me at least arrange your hair,” pleaded Mary, her lady’s maid.
“No.”
“Would you like to at least try on the beautiful gown the Duke had sent over? It is just as you like it, miss. Lots of lace and flounces and in such a pretty, pale pink. Oh do try it on.”
“No.”
Mary stared in exacerbation at her young mistress. She was seated on her chaise, clothed only in her dressing gown, flipping through some fashion plates.
“Please, miss. We are supposed to be at the church at a quarter past! Won’t you get dressed?”
“No.”
Charlotte knew it was childish but after her perfect plan had been thwarted by the Duke’s men, she had no other choice. They couldn’t very well drag her down the aisle naked…at least she hoped not!
At that moment, they heard a crashing bang in the next room. Before Charlotte could react, the doorway to her dressing room was filled with six feet and three inches of broad shouldered angry male.
“Leave us,” he ordered the lady’s maid without taking his eyes off Charlotte.
Charlotte slowly rose from the chaise. Watching him closely, she placed the large piece of furniture between herself and her future husband.
“It won’t protect you,” he ground out.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” responded Charlotte, showing far more bravado then she felt.
He looked like a caged animal ready to strike. She could feel the tension as she watched his muscles bunch and ripple under the strain of keeping unnaturally still. Charlotte could imagine his perfectly tailored coat ripping under the pressure.
Despite her apprehension or perhaps because of it, Charlotte had to admit he looked magnificent. Standing in her doorway all masculine energy and ire. His black eyes shining with barely suppressed anger. If she were less naïve, she would have immediately recognized the leashed sexual desire barely banked in their depths.
