“Uh, okay.“ I answered.

I am now going to insert the speculum,” he said, his voice steady, almost gentle in its certainty.

The tip pressed against me, cold even through the lube, stretching me wider than his fingers already had. My back arched involuntarily, a cry catching in my throat as he pushed it deeper, the smooth metal sliding inside inch by inch.

“Ohh—ahhh—” The sounds tumbled from me, helpless, my body tightening around the intrusion.

“Breathe,” he instructed calmly, his hands steady as the speculum seated itself fully inside me, the cold bulk of it filling me in a way that felt almost unbearable.

He adjusted the screw at the top, and with each turn, the blades began to spread, opening me wider, exposing me in a way I’d never imagined. The stretch burned and throbbed all at once, my body trembling around the metal.

“Yes,” he murmured, peering in with a clinical focus that made me feel more naked than I ever had. “Now I can see everything.”

The metal was already heavy inside me, but then his hand went to the screw at the top, and I heard the first sharp turn. Click. The speculum’s blades shifted, spreading me wider, the cold edges pressing into my walls.

“Ahhh—” I gasped, my hips twitching upward, thighs quivering as I clutched the paper beneath me.

“Relax,” he said, his voice calm, almost soothing but with that commanding undertone. “I need to open you fully.”

Another turn of the screw. Click. The blades spread further, the stretch impossible to ignore now, pulling me apart in a way no man’s cock or fingers ever had. My breath came shallow, quick, heat crawling across my skin even as the cool steel **** me open.

“Just a little more,” he murmured, focused entirely on the view between my thighs. Click. The speculum widened again, and now I could feel the walls of my vagina straining around it, trembling, clenching helplessly against the cold intruder that refused to yield.

“Good,” he said at last, satisfaction in his tone. “You’re open.”

I whimpered, my hands fluttering uselessly against the table, my face hot with humiliation and strange need as he leaned closer, peering straight inside me.

“This gives me direct access,” he explained, his gloved fingers adjusting the handles slightly to hold me in place. “I can see your cervix, the lining of your walls, everything I need to assess.”

He reached for a long cotton swab, holding it up briefly so I could see before bringing it down between my thighs. The tip disappeared inside me, sliding through the speculum’s cold tunnel. I felt the soft scrape against my walls, the pressure as he swirled it deeper, collecting what he needed.

“Mmm, yes. A good sample,” he said, pulling it out slowly, the drag of cotton against my stretched flesh making me shiver. He set it aside carefully, already preparing another.

Inside, I could still feel the huge weight of the speculum holding me wide open, every nerve alight with the burn and ache of being spread so far. He didn’t give me time to recover—he was reaching for another swab, dipping it in a bit of solution before bringing it to me again, pushing it through the gleaming metal, brushing deeper inside.

Each movement was meticulous, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to examine me like this, spread obscenely wide on his table, helpless to stop him.

The metal was still lodged inside me, spreading me wide, my thighs trembling from the stretch. Then his hand went to the screw at the top again. The first backward turn gave a sharp click, and I felt the speculum’s jaws shift, the pressure easing fraction by fraction as the blades began to slide back toward one another.

My body sighed with relief even as I whimpered, the ache of being held so wide still throbbing inside me. Click, click—each turn brought me closer to being closed again, the cold steel gliding against my sore walls as he drew it back together. Finally, with one steady pull, he slipped it free, the slick metal sliding out of me with a wet sound that left me gasping.

He set it on the tray with a clatter, stripped off his gloves, and walked to the disposal bin. His movements were methodical, deliberate, as though nothing in the world could hurry him. The speculum landed in the bin with a heavy metallic thud, the sound echoing in my ears.

When he returned, he didn’t sit this time. He came to my side, standing tall beside the table, looking down at me as I lay there, skirt and panties folded neatly away, thighs still parted and trembling from what he’d just done. His presence loomed larger this close, the bulk of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders, and those enormous hands flexing inside a fresh pair of gloves.

His voice came calm, steady, as though he was announcing the weather. “Now I’m going to perform a rectal exam.”

My heart skipped violently, my stomach twisting. Those hands—those huge, gloved hands—were going to be inside me again, only lower this time. I swallowed hard, my face flushing with humiliation and strange, nervous heat.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, holding it up just long enough that I couldn’t look anywhere else. The thick, glossy gel streamed out in a long ribbon, coating his index and middle fingers until they glistened, slick and shining under the exam light. He rubbed them together slowly, spreading the lube, flexing each finger as though preparing for the task.

“Lift your hips slightly,” he instructed, his tone unwavering.

I obeyed, clumsy and shy, tilting upward just enough to expose myself further. The cool brush of his hand found my ass, his slick fingers circling, spreading the gel around the tight ring of muscle. The first press made me gasp.

Then he pushed.

His finger breached me, the lube cold and slippery but the intrusion firm, inevitable. “Ahhh—” I gasped, my eyes wide, my body clenching around the thick digit. He didn’t stop, didn’t wait, just eased in deeper, the pressure stretching me in a way that was different, shocking, more intimate than I expected.

“Almost in,” he said evenly, his voice calm above me as my body trembled, thighs quivering, shame burning hot across my cheeks.

Then his knuckle slipped past, burying the finger inside me fully, his huge hand resting steady against my ass as he began the exam.

His finger worked inside me slowly, deliberately, stretching me in ways that made my toes curl against the paper. I felt every inch of the intrusion, the glide of the lube, the tight ring of muscle struggling around the thickness of him. He withdrew almost to the tip, then pressed deeper again, twisting slightly, feeling the shape of me as if memorizing every contour.