A second clit

It all happened in a flash. One moment I was cycling home from school, the next moment a van stopped next to me with screeching tyres, a bunch of guys jumped out and grabbed me, and one of them held some kind of strange-smelling handkerchief under my nose. The last thing I knew was getting dragged into the van, then everything went black.

When I came round, everything seemed to be white. I was in a hospital bed, with a beeping machine beside it. I tried to get up, finding I couldn’t, my limbs failing on basic commands. The nurse sitting in the chair noticed, and picked up a phone.

“She’s awake,” was all she said, then got up, bent across me, measured my pulse and felt my forehead.

“What… how… where…” I mumbled incoherently.

“Shush, darling. The doctor is on his way; he’ll explain everything.”

Actually it wasn’t one doctor; a host of people in white coats hurled into the room a minute later. Most of them stood back and just observed, whispering between them; only a man in his fifties came up to me. He displayed the casual authority of a team leader.

“Open,” he said, gesturing to my mouth. When I did, he inserted some kind of surgical spreader tool, making it impossible to close my mouth again, and shone a flashlight as he looked inside. He hummed, apparently satisfied, then pushed another tool inside, heading towards my throat, feeling out the edges of my oral cavity as it explored deeper.

I was still groggy, probably by the narcotics; yet I immediately noticed that my throat didn’t feel like it used to. When the cold metal of the tool reached the actual throat, there was the slight gagging reflex which you normally have when you push something too far down there; but it wasn’t very strong, and submerged into a tingling burst of light, fresh energy arising. It didn’t feel unpleasant or painful at all; in fact, it was good and invigorating, as if it was looking for more. I recognized the sensation from somewhere, but didn’t know how or from where in my hazy state of mind.

The doctor retracted his instruments and I could close my mouth again. He looked satisfied and proud of himself.

“It looks like the operation was a great success, miss Johansson!” he said in a pleased tone.

“What… operation? What are you talking about? “

He seemed surprised, and looked over his shoulder. One of the other team members shook her head. He looked back at me and said: “Ah… I thought you were one of the volunteers. Oh well. I’ll call mr. Karlsen, and he’ll explain everything to you shortly. He was very eager to hear about the results, he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

He started turning around, but I yelled: “Wait! I was… ****, I guess? Where am I? Am I a prisoner here?”

A slightly tormented expression crossed his face, then he said: “Well… yes and no. You could get up from that bed and walk out of here right now… but it was a very complicated operation, and you should remain under observation for a while. We have to ensure that all functionality actually works. Besides, you’re getting medication from that I.V. over there to avoid post-operative rejection symptoms. If they are stopped, you would have severe pains and might even lead to permanent damage. So I would strongly advise against it. Believe me, we are taking the best care of you, just allow us to help you, OK?”

I sank back into my cushions. To be honest, I didn’t feel like taking a walk around long hospital corridors at all; I felt like I would tumble to the floor on the first step. I sighed and nodded to him; he looked delighted.

The entire medical team left the room, only the nurse stayed. I wanted to ask her more questions, I still had no idea what was going on, but I felt completely knackered as well, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear the answers. I dozed off again.

When I came round again, the nurse was gone. I felt slightly better, my head was clearer. Why had this doctor had all this attention for my mouth? And why did it feel so unfamiliar? Even as I was just swallowing my saliva, the tingle was there… not very strong, but absolutely recognizable. I opened my mouth and put a finger inside. The tingle got a bit stronger, and it seemed as if it encouraged me to reach deeper into my throat. Unfortunately my finger wasn’t long enough to reach very far, it couldn’t get down all the way. I looked around the room for some object which might reach deeper. To my astonishment, there was a dildo on the bedside table.

What the hell is a dildo doing on the bedside table of a hospital room?!? , I wondered, then abandoned the thought and took it anyway. It seemed perfect for the job. I aimed it between my lips and shoved it inside.

The tingling, exciting sensation got stronger and stronger as the dildo reached deeper, coming to a climax when it touched the back of my throat. Maybe I needed the fact that I was sending a dildo down there to make me realize what it reminded me of… the thought was so weird that it was as if there was no room for it in my head, so I dismissed it. I took the dildo out for an inch and pushed it back again. It felt really good, and the thought inevitably crept back into my head.

It feels like sex. It feels like my clit. It feels the same way as when I am alone in my room at home, and I move my hand down there and rub.

I guess I should tell you at this point that I have always been very interested in sex. I started masturbating when I was 12 years old. My parents were very conservative and protective and they’d never really given me a chance to be alone with any boys, so I didn’t get much further than a few stolen kisses and, once, a quick crotch fondle; but they had no objection at all to me being in my room alone when I said I was doing homework. Little did they know what kind of “study” went on in there. I taught myself the art of masturbation, practicing for hours on end. I’d make myself cum, cool down a bit, and pick it back up again. I experimented with the sensations of stroking, squeezing, rubbing, pinching, slapping, groping, and more. I hadn’t just played with my clit, my slit, my labia, my asshole, my buttocks, my breasts, my nipples; but also, with my thighs, my neck, the inside of my wrists, the soles of my feet, and everything in between. I had built up a small collection of perfectly neutral objects, not arousing any suspicion when my mum went through my room, yet had their own part in my private orgies: an electric toothbrush, the detached knob of an old chair which felt perfect when inserted, a few clothespins, some leather belts I also wore in my trousers, a few pieces of rope and some more stuff. My laptop was configured for optimum access to internet porn, without leaving any trace when the last window was closed. I had made my parents believe that I was really fond of bananas and my mother would restock a bunch of them in my room whenever they ran out. Slightly unripe please, mum. I guess you could say that for an 18-year old virgin, I was pretty experienced. I loved sex, I revelled in masturbating and playing with myself, and I was delighted to take my body through orgasm. I was half a year away from graduation and the plan was to go to college, and I was really looking forward to getting away from under parental supervision, and put all that experience to good use moving into campus, with a man. Or men. I didn’t know yet.

So as you can imagine, being **** and ****, subjected to an involuntary medical procedure in a strange place, scrutinized by doctors who specialized in giving out as little information as possible, and an unknown future ahead of me, still was a very disturbing and traumatizing experience… yet apparently, it wasn’t all bad. These people might have given me a second clit, or something? Suddenly worried, I held the dildo inside my mouth, as my other hand reached down. I heaved a sigh of relief to find the first one was still there as well - providing the same warm and arousing welcome it always had. I released it though - I had received a new toy and wanted to check it out first. I released the dildo for an inch and pushed it back once more. Yes, very clear now - excitement, arousal. The drive to go on, to work myself into the horny frenzy I loved so much. To figure out if I could actually have an orgasm in my throat now.

I started repeating the motion, in, out, in, out, the dildo pushing and pressing against my new pleasure zone on every downstroke. The feeling was incredible. I don’t know if it simply was because I was pleasing a clit I had never had before for the first time, but the lascivious, intoxicating thrill seemed even stronger than the one from below, the one I knew so well. I couldn’t help myself, didn’t even want to help myself, when my hand increased the speed of the thrust of the dildo into my throat. Yes, I was absolutely on course for an orgasm - and if I didn’t read the signs wrong, it would reach to the top of the “explosive” scale.

I got so devoted to my activities that I noticed the door handle only at the very last minute. Before I knew it, the presence of a man filled the room. The doctor who had examined me earlier came in alongside with him, but all his previous authority had gone, absorbed as he was in the aura of the big man. He was a lot older than me, maybe in his late forties. He was dressed in a suit and tie, tall and handsome in a predator kind of way. His eyes would see any small change to the room - so for sure, the dildo which I quickly tried to pull from my mouth. Too late. There was a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth, otherwise his active, observant expression didn’t change when he looked me in the eye. I had **** but to blush, and lower my eyes.