Joanne is the sexual play-thing of the owner's son at work

"I, ah...." Joanne's face turned red and she considered lying, but the man was her doctor after all. "I, um, had a sexual encounter. Recently."

"I see," Dr. Turner moved his head in close, taking a good look at both orifices, and making notes about their state. Raw, even mildly gaping as if recently used and pentrated by sizable intruders. "Anally and vaginally?"

"Um. Yes," Joanne answered meekly, wishing she could sink down and disappear.

"Recently, I assume?" the doctor pressed, selecting two speculum, laying them out on a tray, and lubricating them both. Joanne watched with trepedition, and nodded.

"Right. Well, I don't need the details, but this might have had an effect on the amount of liquid that you have inside you. Ah, if you don't mind my saying so, your orifices appear.... flexible at this moment," he said tactfully, not wanting to say that she reminded him of the hooker he'd seen earlier.

Blushing, Joanne bit her tongue as he inserted the first speculum, not wanting to admit why she appeared so used. It really hadn't been her intention to become one of those women. The kind that sleep with their boss.

When she'd graduated college Joanne had crushing debts, no friends or family nearby, and every job she applied for turned her down. She couldn't help but feel that her good looks had actually harmed her prospects, as the interviewers seemed to think her beauty would translate into a dim intellect.

Finally, after a string of failures and pointed remarks from her landlord, she'd been **** enough to use those looks on a distinctly predatory and lecherous looking man who was interviewing her for a sales position. He'd been utterly receptive to her advances, and took pleasure in making her gag on his large penis. Over time she - or maybe he - trained her to not gag, but on that first day it had been difficult, and he seemed to take pleasure in it.

It was just her kind of bad luck that he'd turn out to be the boss's son. Although not her direct manager he'd still call her to his office at least twice a day for booty calls, and he would dictate what kind of clothes she'd wear. Miniskirts and high-heels were the norm nowadays. Her co-workers, supervisor, and several of the managers seemed to give her knowing looks that had her ducking her head while her cheeks bloomed pink.

Today he'd involved his assistant, a rather large woman who'd delighted in making both hands fit inside Joanne, one in her pussy and the other in her sore rectum. Desmond, the owner's son, merely watched, rubbing his dick and filming it like usual, idling talking to his assistant about what the corporate team-building day should include this year.

Thinking back on what happened distracted Joanne from Dr. Turner's inspection of her private-parts, while the earlier invasion made it easy for the doctor to inspect her insides.

'Recent, and copious, sexual activity. Subject appears to engage in quite frequent activities, likely including sizable objects', the doctor noted with a little smirk.

"Well," the doctor began as Joanne was dressing in her little skirt and nearly transparent top. "You haven't exhibited any signs of poisoning, and you appear to be quite healthy. I would have liked to keep you for observation, but it appears that there wouldn't be any need. If you feel at all odd in the next day or two please return to us as quickly as possible. In the meantime, go home, take a shower, and consider the possibility of counselling. People often have delayed psychological reactions to events like this. It's the trauma of it all."

"Thank you, doctor," Joanne said with a tight smile, and went out the door. The doctor's eyes lingered on her tight derriere until the door swung closed again.