Forced Lesbian Submission Books 11-13 Read online

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  Copyright 2016 Adrian Amos

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  Conquered by the Doctor

  Conquered by my Boyfriend's Ex-Girlfriend

  Conquered by the Little Brat

  Part of the “Forced Lesbian Submission” series

  By Adrian Amos

  Check out more books at my Author's page.

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  Table of Contents

  Conquered by the Doctor

  Conquered by my Boyfriend's Ex-Girlfriend

  Conquered by the Little Brat

  Conquered by the Doctor

  “I don't understand why you need to ask these questions.”

  Dr. Mogle looks over the rim of her glasses, clearly annoyed at my questioning of her questioning. “Sarah, this is a training hospital. It's imperative that we know everything we can about our patients so that our students have the easiest time understanding their cases.”

  I sit quiet as she continues asking questions, responding as simply as I can in order to avoid my own embarrassment. She's been touching on a number of very personal issues that make me uncomfortable to answer, but I feel like it's my responsibility to help in any way I can. After all, I did come here for the cheapest treatment possible. If I am going to benefit, then it is only right that I make sure they get whatever they can out of me to help their training.

  Even then, the questions are tough to answer without diverting my eyes away from the beautiful woman. I'm sitting on the exam table in a light-blue smock, naked underneath as I await my gynecological exam. The prying inquiries make me feel strangely vulnerable, and the gorgeous, ponytailed blonde with thin, serious glasses is pulling no punches.

  How old am I? 19.

  What's my sexual orientation? Straight.

  Have I ever had a sexual encounter with a woman? No.

  Am I sexually attracted to women? No.

  Dr. Mogle smiles at my admissions, writing the information down in her chart.

  When was the last time I had any sexual activity? I'm a virgin.

  She squints her eyes. “Then are you sure that you're not attracted to women?”

  I blush, nodding and folding my hands together. “I'm sure.”

  “Okay,” she says, “I just need to make sure.”

  Have I ever had an orgasm? Yes.

  “Good,” she says.

  “Is that important for my tests?” I ask, unsure of why my sexual life is being documented.

  “Yes, it is.” She thinks for a moment. “When we're detailing our procedures to new gynecological students, we like to give them this information so that they might understand the history of the patient, and therefore speculate or draw conclusions on physical health. Sometimes it's to help them understand how vaginas can be different between people, but also to help them avoid biases they might have based on cultural information.”

  Dr. Mogle touches my leg as she leans in, shooting warmth up my bare skin. “Some students might believe that lesbians and straight women are different or react differently. Part of our training here is to show them that women are generally the same no matter what.”

  She rubs my knee. It feels good—soothing actually—but the last thing I want to do I seem weird by reacting to it. I clear my throat, and she takes a second before she removes her hand.

  “I'm just going to need you to sign some waivers here.”

  She hands me some paperwork and I fill it out. “What do these say?” I ask.

  She shrugs, eliciting a wave of her hand. “Just normal liability and disclosure agreements. A big part of it is that you know you're in a training hospital and that students will be in the room when your exam is performed.”

  I nod. I hand the papers back and she heads for the door.

  “I'll be back in a moment with the students that will be viewing the exam.” She closes the door and I'm alone in the cold, sterile exam room.

  I know that there will be a couple students in the room as the doctor examines me. It's the first gyno exam that I've ever had, and it does make me incredibly uncomfortable to have multiple people looking at my pussy, but it's a discomfort I have to accept. I'm not getting health insurance working for a mom and pop restaurant, so I have to cut costs wherever I can.

  I really shouldn't even be here: that's how I'd really save money, but my mom was adamant that I go get checked out because she had ovarian cancer, and it was early detection that saved her life. I would never hear the end of it until I went, so I figured the earlier I got it done, the sooner she can relax and quit hounding me.

  I'm actually kind of proud of myself that I overcame my social anxiety to save some money. I would never have done that before, even if it meant not making rent. But I figured that sitting through 10 minutes or whatever of people ogling me is well worth it. All I'd really have to do is close my eyes if it got too much for me.

  Dr. Mogle walks back in and asks me to sit up on the table and place my legs in the stirrups. I do, lying back on the table and placing my hands on my stomach. I take a deep breath, calming myself before the exam. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. I hear the shuffling of feet. It's probably the students coming into the room. I want to look, but I'm still a little uncomfortable.

  No one is talking, but the sense in me that something is not right pops up. It may be quiet but the air is heavy, thick with presence. I can tell before I open my eyes that there are a lot of people in this room.

  I open them and I'm right. The doctor is sitting in front of my open legs writing something down, but behind her are standing 10 women in lab coats.

  They're all young and beautiful, from blondes to brunettes to red heads, with small bodies and finely chiseled features. All aspiring gynecologists, they are the cream of the crop, most likely brilliant with expensive pedigrees that led them to the medical field.

  If there is a good time to feel vulnerable, it's now, with my legs open and my pussy exposed to 11 beautiful and intelligent women. Even more so, since I'm a mousy girl—called cute but never beautiful—who got through high school and didn't think twice about attending college. My short, small frame and my brown bob on my head have never let me stand out. These women wouldn't be caught dead with me sitting at their table; but here they are, closer to me than I would have ever gotten out in the real world.

  The one thing I feel lucky about is that I made sure to shave myself bare this morning. I wanted to look good for the few people I thought would be looking at me. This many people and I would have died if I had an unkempt bush. Not that I ever did: I like it smooth, even if I am a virgin, I still enjoy touching myself, and nothing feels as unsexy to me as parting a forest to reach the promised land.

  I struggle to speak, eking out the few words I can, “I thought there was only going to be a couple of students?”

  Everyone looks at me as I open my mouth, and I dart my eyes away as quickly as I can, avoiding all the attention I just brought on myself.

  I start bending my knees inward, closing my legs unconsciously, but Dr. Mogle grabs a hold of my knees and pushes them outward. “Please keep your legs open.” She drags her fingertips halfway down my thighs and pulls away. It feels amazing to have that light caressing touch on my sensitive inner thighs, and I shift my butt back into the seat.

  Did she do that intentionally?

  Her gaze turns toward the students and she begins going over what they should be paying attention to. I can't pay attention, though, as there are so many eyes in the room that even when Dr. Mogle is talking, one of the girls will be looking at me
, at my face or my pussy, and I can't help but close my eyes and try to divert myself. I think about my little vegetable garden on the window sill of my apartment, and the sun outlining the plants as I wake up in the morning. It's relaxing and I feel my tension begin to lift.

  “Now, our patient here is a virgin,” I hear her say, which snaps me out of my reverie. “She's attracted to men and she has orgasmed before, as she has informed me.”

  My heart picks up and I feel heat hit my face. I was embarrassed before, but now I'm beet red, completely shocked at my personal information being spoken out loud. It is one thing when they might have just read it, it is another when the doctor mentions it and a number of the girls look at me and a couple of them smirk.

  It's utterly humiliating.

  So many minds processing me: what I look like, what my pussy looks like, and what my sex life is like. It's impossible at this moment for one of them not to be gloating or laughing over my inability to land a man and have sex with him. After all, these girls are in college, probably only a few years older than me, and that amount of time isn't enough for girls to stop being high school bitches about that stuff.

  I want to say something, but I'm far too nervous to speak up in front of everyone.

  The doctor continues, “So, from our last patient, this one is going to be quite the opposite. As you recall, we had a lesbian who had never orgasmed and had never been with a man before. We all know how easily that went.”

  The girls laughed and Dr. Mogle smiled, looking me in the eye with a devious glance.

  “But even then, our results should be predictable. Women's vaginas act and respond the same way. Even when they are self-proclaimed gay or straight, they respond to stimulation and inspection the same, producing copious blood flow that engorges the genitals.”

  I'm not sure what she's talking about. It seems irrelevant. But I can't say one way or the other whether it's normal when dealing with a class of students. She might just need to touch on multiple subjects in order to remind them about the human body.

  Dr. Mogle puts on rubber gloves, a distinctive slap on the wrist signifying her readiness. The standing girls prep their papers and notebooks to begin writing down her instructions.

  She places her gloved hands on my spread thighs, pushing her hands downwards along them. Although the sensation of gloves isn't as tantalizing as the warmth of her bare hands against me, the pressure is still intense as she glides along. It builds even stronger as she slowly approaches my pussy. My hips buck ever so slightly as she comes to a stop right outside of my lips.

  “Did you notice that?” she asks. The students murmur agreement and nod as they furiously write down their observations.

  She chuckles, “I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let me perform the external exam first.”

  What did she mean perform it first? What else would she be doing?

  She stands up and walks around to the side of the table. She reaches over the top of me and undoes the opening to my gown. She pulls it open and frees my tits from the paper gown.

  “Now, I'm going to perform a breast exam. We're just checking the tissue for any lumps or abnormalities.”

  She runs her hands in a circle over my tits, cupping them as she runs around my nipples. Every so often she squeezes, searching for anything that is out of the ordinary.

  Then her hand grazes over my nipple and I feel a tingle in my chest. I think it's an accident, until she does it again. Then her hands turn toward my nipples, running her fingers around my nubs. I squirm, the feeling tingly and unexpected.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. Having read about exams before I came here, I didn't see anything about touching the nipples.

  “Checking the tissue for abnormalities,” she calmly says. Almost to make a point, she pinches my nipples between her fingers and pulls up on them. I can't help but puff out my chest as I feel the pressure pull me upward. “I need to make sure the erectile tissue is functioning properly.” My nipples, indeed, work correctly and stand erect, large, and puffy. Dr. Mogle lets go and my tits slap back into me.

  She gives a small glance toward her students—which looks like it's meant to be sly—and heads back toward the stirrups. As she sits down, I realize she didn't close me up, and my tits are still exposed out of the gown.

  I want to close it, but she didn't say I could. I feel unsure of what to do. Maybe she still needs to examine them, so I decide to leave it open. My nipples are still hard, though, and I notice one of the girls looking at them. I swear I can see her biting her lip, but I must be imagining it.

  Dr. Mogle places her hands around my pussy and my attention is immediately shifted. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing again.

  “I'm starting the exterior exam. Watch closely as I examine the areas inside and around the vagina.”

  She places a finger on each side of my lips, running them from top to bottom, applying pressure. Even though she's on the outside of my pussy, I can feel her pushing my lips together, crushing my clit in her grip. She slowly moves down, passing around my clit until it pops through her fingers, sending electricity through my pussy. I swallow, trying to maintain my focus.

  Once she runs around the outside, she uses her fingers to spread my lips apart.

  “We have the opening. Now I'm going to check the labia, vulva, clitoris, and urethra for any signs of abnormality or infection.”

  She uses her index and middle fingers to run the course of my lips, trailing from top to bottom. I'm trying hard not to close my legs as the urge inside me is building.

  Her fingers come back up to my clit and begin to circle it. The nub begin to vibrate as she flicks it back and forth, and causes me to seize up as she pinches it between her fingers.

  I never thought in a million years that the exam would turn me on so much! I grow even more embarrassed as I feel her fingers slide quickly as they hit a build-up of juices. I'm starting to get wet and I can't do anything to hide it!

  “Our patient is experiencing arousal, as I expected.”

  I open my eyes. “What did you say?” I ask. The girls are staring at my glistening pussy, but they all seem to look up at me with a sense of disgust, as if I'm the rudest person they've every met.

  “Don't interrupt my class,” Dr. Mogle flatly says.

  “But I don't get it,” I say, “Are you trying to get me aroused?”

  “It's part of the procedure. You signed the waivers, Sarah. Now I'm not going to ask you again. Please do no interrupt my class. You don't come into a training hospital and mess with our system of education. It's disrespectful.”

  Her tone is angry, and I feel like I've just been chastised by my mother. I shrink back as the eyes all study me with disbelief at my outburst. I have a feeling that what is happening is wrong, but this is a doctor I'm talking to. I feel like I should trust her without saying anything because she knows way more than I ever will.

  I stay quiet as she looks at me, and when she's satisfied that I won't speak again, she continues on with her examination. I sigh that I'm ignored for the time being. I need to get this over with, make sure I have a clean bill of health, and get the hell out of here as soon as I can. That won't be possible if she's got a big problem with me talking.

  She brings out the speculum—a duck-billed apparatus I saw online meant for peering into the vagina. As she inserts it into my pussy, the cold metal brushes against me and the rush of all these sensations doesn't dull its affect on me. It's soothing having something inside me that isn't my own fingers filling me up, and the cold makes it feel alien and unique. As strange as it sounds, it's one of the better things I've felt so far.

  Until she starts spreading it. It isn't painful, but it produces a bit of pressure inside me as the device spreads my walls. I exhale as I start to fall down from my arousal, returning back to normal.

  “Everything looks good,” she says. I'm relieved as she closes it up and removes the device.

  “Our patient did have concerns of ovarian cancer i
n her family history, so the last step will be performing a digital exam.”

  All that relief of coming down from arousal was for nothing as Dr. Mogle inserts her index and middle finger into my pussy. The pressure comes as a shock, even more so than the speculum, probably because it's a woman's fingers inside of me instead of a medical device. I can feel her fingers wiggle inside me as they press against my walls.

  She pushes on my abdomen with one hand and pushes inside me with the other. The hands meet and begin to massage my uterus between them. Then her thumb grazes my clit, and then does it again, almost certainly not an accident. I twitch each time it hits me, and I swear and I can hear a few of the girls giggling.

  “I don't notice anything out of the ordinary. I don't think you have anything to worry about.” She smiles at me, and I sigh knowing that I don't have to worry about what might be. My mom will be excited to hear about it as well.

  But as Dr. Mogle removes her hand from my abdomen, she keeps the other one firmly locked inside me. “Now that the exam is fully done, and our patient has a clean bill of health, we can move onto the experimentation aspect of our class.”

  She brushes the upper wall of my pussy, using her fingertips to lightly dust me. It flashes through me with a sharp pang, causing me to nearly jump from my seat.

  She laughs, and the girls behind her chuckle as well. “Sarah is a virgin after all. She not going to be used to these feelings.”

  “Stop it!” I say, angrily. They're teasing me and I can't stand that. “You just said the exam is done. Why are your fingers still inside me?”

  She stops, pulling her fingers out of me, the escape as powerful as the insertion. She removes her gloves and tosses them in the trash can. She stares bullets at me, clearly angry that I spoke up again. “Because it isn't done. Now I told you not to interrupt my class again. You need to be set straight.”

  She lifts each of my legs out of the stirrups and sets them down over the edge of the table. “Stand up.”

  “Why?” I ask.