Page 33 of Grace's Daddy

I watch as he moves it around my naked chest, trying not to think about my nudity and the fact that two strangers are seeing me.

“Heart sounds great. Can you lean back for me, Little one?”

All three men help me onto my back, and I suck in a breath when Nurse Brian steps to the end of the table behind me. He reaches across me, circles my wrists, and brings my hands over my head.

I turn to look at Daddy, fighting the whimper that’s threatening to escape. I feel ten times more exposed stretched out like this. I’m fidgeting, too. I can’t keep my legs still. I draw my knees up and squeeze them tightly.

Dr. Morgan pats my shin. “Let’s go ahead and get your legs in the stirrups, Little one.”

Even though I expected this, I still gasp as he gently guides first one leg and then the other into metal stirrups. I start breathing heavier when he straps my legs down and then opens them wider.

I’m panting as the doctor examines my breasts. He takes his time. He continues to talk to Daddy about my breast tissue and my nipples while he palpates them. It’s overwhelming, and that feeling doubles when he pinches one of my nipples hard enough to make my breath hitch.

I arch my chest and stiffen as he pulls and twists that nipple before repeating the same on the other side. Leaving me breathless, he moves down between my legs and asks Daddy questions about my sexual history and any issues or concerns with regard to my vagina.

It’s surreal, and I’m mortified by the wetness leaking out of me. I’m supposed to be turned on. That’s half the point of this visit. I know that, but it doesn’t make the entire experience less shocking. I’m also aware that my physical reactions to this visit are going to dictate how often Daddy will bring me back for another exam. Judging by the amount of arousal leaking down to my butt crack, I’d say we’ll be back here four times a week.

“Any issues with bowel movements?” Dr. Morgan asks.

“No. I introduced her to glycerin suppositories and enemas already. She knows I won’t hesitate to do whatever is necessary to make sure she empties her bowels.”

“And her urethra? Does she keep her diapers wet?”

“Normally she’s pretty good about it, but the diaper I just removed from her was dry, which means she hasn’t peed since we left the house several hours ago. I warned her you would do at least one invasive procedure this morning.”

The doctor lifts his head to look at me, smiling as though this is all perfectly normal. “Have you ever had a catheter, Little one?”

I swallow. I should not be shocked, but I am. “No, Sir,” I mumble.

“It won’t hurt a bit. I’m going to push a tube into your pee-pee hole and drain your bladder. In the future, you need to keep your diapers wet. If you hold your pee pee, I’ll have your Daddy bring you back to my office so I can put a more permanent catheter inside you to hold your urethra open for a few days so it constantly drains into your diaper. Most Little girls do not like that. It’s a good way to ensure they don’t hold their pee pee back.”

My breath hitches. The idea sounds horrifying.

I really do need to pee. I didn’t think about it until he mentioned it, but now I have to go badly.

Dr. Morgan pulls up a rolling tray with so many items on it I’m afraid to look. He holds my pelvis down with one hand, lubes the entrance to my tiny hole, and guides a tube into me.

Daddy cups my cheek and meets my gaze. “You’re doing so well, sweet girl. Deep breaths.”

The relief I feel as my bladder drains is tremendous.

Brian strokes my wrists with his fingers and gently praises me for being brave.

The catheter is definitely the most invasive part of this visit, and I breathe easier as soon as it’s removed, trying not to think hard about the way Dr. Morgan parts my folds and examines my pussy.

I can’t hold back a moan when he pushes two fingers into me and feels around inside my tight channel.

“Any issues with her bottom?” he asks Daddy while still fingering my vagina.

“No. I’ve been acclimating her to anal play for two weeks.”

“Can she orgasm from rectal stimulation?” the doctor asks.

My face heats, and I bite my lip.

“Yes.”

Holy shit. TMI. Is there such a thing on this island? Probably not.