Forced orgasms need to be standard practice for gynecologists. It’s part of my training for learning how to be a good girl. My legs need to be spread and bound open to display my pussy for anyone who walks in. Keeping my pussy properly displayed for anyone who wants to see it. It’s desensitization. It’s muscle memory. The humiliation of it psychologically reinforces my submission and obedience to male superiority.
I blush and bite my lip during the initial inspection. He doesn’t warn me when he spreads open my smooth, soft labia with one hand and rubs my clit with his other. He stares into my eyes, watching my stunned, unsure reaction as he deliberately stands between my spread legs and rubs my little clitty.
I gasp. I look up at him, then to his fingers rubbing between my labia, then back up at him. “Wait..wha..what are you doing?” I wiggle in the chair, trying to avoid his touch to the most sensitive part of my body, but the straps around my calves, thighs, hips, belly, and the rest of my body prevent me from escaping. I can’t do anything to stop him.. I’m helpless. I look up at the gynecologist with wide eyes as the reality of my circumstances set in.