I stood up and followed Anya back into the examination room, my pulse quickening with a mix of anticipation and faux nervousness. Nathalie was also instructed to follow, but Olivia and Nancy were left outside, the door clicking shut behind us with a finality that made the air feel heavier.

The examination table where Nathalie had squatted so shamefully earlier had already been wiped clean, the paper covering fresh and crisp.

Anya turned to me, her expression all business, though her cheeks held a faint flush. "Mr. Dexter, please lie down and remove your lower clothes," she instructed, her voice steady but carrying an edge of professional detachment.

I hesitated for a moment, my face heating up as I pretended to be overwhelmed by embarrassment. My fingers fumbled at the button of my pants, my mind racing—this is too easy.

Anya noticed my hesitation and offered a reassuring smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. "Mr. Dexter, you don't need to be embarrassed," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "I'm just a doctor. There's no taboo between a doctor and her patient."

I nearly chuckled inwardly—then why do you only take female patients?—but I kept my expression carefully sheepish.

Slowly, I slid my pants down, the bulge of my rock-hard cock straining against my underwear, impossible to hide. I quickly covered myself with my hands, feigning shyness, my face burning with faux humiliation.

I lay back on the table, my heart pounding as I pretended to be overwhelmed by embarrassment, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the waistband of my pants. Anya stood nearby, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of professional detachment and something far more intriguing—a flicker of curiosity in her sharp eyes.

I slid my pants down slowly, the bulge of my cock straining against the thin fabric of my underwear, the outline of my length and the thick, pulsing veins visible even through the material.

I bit my lip, my face flushed as I covered myself with my hands, acting as though I were trying to shield my modesty. "D-Doctor, I—" My voice cracked, my fingers trembling over the fabric, my cock twitching beneath them, already painfully hard.

Anya let out a soft, almost imperceptible scoff, shaking her head as if amused by my faux shyness. She turned to Nathalie, who stood nearby, her cheeks already flushed with anticipation. "Mrs. Nathalie," Anya said, her voice carrying a note of command, "please help your husband remove his underwear."

Nathalie's breath hitched, her fingers trembling as she stepped closer to the table. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted slightly as she reached for the waistband of my underwear.

The air between us felt charged, electric, as if the room itself was holding its breath. I could see the way her chest rose and fell, her breathing shallow, her gaze flickering between my face and the obvious bulge beneath my hands.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nathalie hooked her fingers into the waistband and began to pull the fabric down. My cock, already throbbing with anticipation, sprang free with a violent jerk, the sudden release making it slap against Nathalie's face with a sharp, wet smack.

The sound echoed in the room, obscene and unexpected, and Nathalie let out a shocked gasp—"Aaaah!"—her hands flying to her cheeks as the thick, heavy length of my cock left a reddening mark across her skin.

The sensation of my cock slapping against her face sent a jolt through me, my hips twitching involuntarily, my length throbbing as pre-cum beaded at the tip. Nathalie's breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers pressing against her flushed skin, her eyes wide with shock—but there was something else there, too.

Something darker, more shameful. Her lips were slightly parted, her tongue darting out to wet them, and I could see the way her thighs pressed together, as if she were trying to stifle the arousal that had flared within her.

"I—I'm so sorry," I stammered, my voice thick with faux remorse, though my cock pulsed again, betraying my excitement. It was thick, veiny, the head swollen and glistening with pre-cum, the cock twitching as if hungry for more.

The sight of it, so close to Nathalie's face, the red mark already blooming on her cheek, sent another wave of heat through me.

Anya's breath caught in her throat, her eyes locking onto my cock with an intensity that made my skin prickle. She took in the scene—the way Nathalie's fingers trembled against her face, the way her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, the way my cock jerked again, as if reaching for her.

A faint flush crept up Anya's neck, her professional demeanor faltering for just a moment as she absorbed the raw, erotic tension that filled the room.

The air was thick with the scent of arousal, the sound of Nathalie's ragged breathing mixing with the quiet, almost imperceptible whimper that escaped her lips.

My cock throbbed again, a bead of pre-cum dripping down the side, and I could see the way Nathalie's gaze was drawn to it, her tongue darting out again, as if she were fighting the urge to taste it.

Anya's voice, usually so commanding, had softened to a whisper, her gaze locked onto my throbbing cock as if she couldn't look away. "Mr. Dexter..." she began, her breath hitching slightly, her professional composure fraying at the edges.

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the clipboard she held, as if it were the only thing anchoring her to her role. "From what I can see... the medicine we prescribed isn't working. We need to consider a different approach." Her words were measured, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

I let out a low, pained groan, my voice trembling as I clutched the edge of the examination table. "Doctor... please, do something," I pleaded, my cock twitching as if to emphasize my desperation.

"It's starting to hurt..." My voice cracked, my body arching slightly as I pretended to be overwhelmed by discomfort, though the truth was far more shameful—every second of this was driving me wild.

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