Allow Haggen to administer his "special medicine"

"I will do what you believe is necessary to heal," you say, looking away from stout doctor as he continues to squeeze your bottom through your gown.

"Yes, good," he says. "That's good, Sabine. I went you verrry healthy."

He continues to massage your bottom and begins to raise the back of your gown over the firm roundness of your cheeks. His rough hands slide over your smooth buttocks, fingertips kneading your flesh, spreading it and exposing your body immodestly. Haggen steps around behind you to observe your bottom.

"Yes, it looks quite healthy. Firm and well-exercised. Can you lean forward here onto this crate?"

"Yes, doctor," you say, reluctantly. You lean forward onto your elbows, aware that this position hikes your gown up your back, completely over your firm buttocks. Haggen admires your pale hind again, wetting his tongue and gently stroking you with his fingertips. His touch slides lower and caresses the backs of your thighs and then the downy furrow of your sex. You let out an involuntary, "Ooh!"

"Good, good. Your response appears normal. May I test your circulation?"

"What? How would you do that?" you ask, watching him over your shoulder.

"Vascular response, of course. Two part. Redness from irritation and engorgement."

You're not sure what he means exactly. He must be a real doctor, so you trust his expertise.

"Very well, doctor. Whatever you think is best."

No sooner have you given Haggen permission than he delivers a sharp swat to your rear end. Your head jerks up and you let out a gasp.

"What are you--"

He swats your other cheek and stinging pain seems to soak into your bottom.

"Part of the process, my dear. I'm afraid I'll have to do it ten times. Yes, that's good. Ten. On each cheek. Are you ready?"

His eyes bulge with excitement and he cock back his hand once more.

"No, I don't think--"

He interrupts your objection by beginning his spanking. You have certainly received your share of wallops on your bottom as a child, but it has been years since anyone has dared to discipline you in such a way. Haggen swats you again, seemingly harder than before, and you let a little cry of pain escape your parted lips.

"Best count, sweetie. I have trouble keeping track. I'll start over with one."

"One!" You shout as Haggen delivers another smack. "Two! Three! Ahhh! Four and five! Six!"

Each blow lands with another electric jolt of pain from your buttocks. Haggen is straining and panting with enjoyment as he paddles your bottom with his big hands. Your firm bottom burns with his rough treatment. Whatever he is testing is surely a success.

"Twenty!" you finally cry and the spanking ends.

"Yes, yes, good. But I am concerned about your engorgement. There is some moisture here," he gently prods your sex with a finger, "but I think I may need to give you a more thorough examination."

Your throbbing bottom is one thing. Imagining him abusing your virgin quim is another level of depravity.

"Examine my sex? Doctor, that does not seem appropriate."

"There's a tropical plague. Yes. The sea wugs sometimes carry it. Very bad. Very band indeed. It gets into all your girly parts, your folds and creases. But there is a way to be sure you've not caught any."

"What's that?" you ask warily.

"Well, I'll have to risk myself, of course. I'll suck out the poison."

He strokes your bottom with both hands and eyes you, obviously waiting for permission. The thought of the round old doctor slurping away at your quim is rather disturbing. More disturbing still, the thought is also rather arousing.