Even as a relative newcomer to the surgical staff, Dr. Roxanne Tremblay had already heard rumors about the 'Cutters Club' of the male surgeons. At first, she dismissed the rumors as folklore, propagated by bored nurses and resentful administrators. With massive egos, chauvinist attitudes, and salaries that often didn't match their skills, the male doctors certainly gave enough ammunition to their detractors. Until she heard it straight from another female surgeon, she didn't put too much stock in the stories.
"It's been around for a few years," explained her friend, Shelly Pascal. " Most of the guys won't talk about it, of course, but if you go out drinking with these guys as often as I do, the details eventually come out."
Shelly was a plastic surgeon, and had been with the hospital for years. If she confirmed the story, it just had to be true. Roxanne was curious. The rumors had been delicious.
"So what goes on at these meetings?"
"They get a different girl each week. A volunteer. I'm afraid the poor girl doesn't know these men the way we do. Stick twelve of the biggest male egos into the same room, let them loose on the body of some dumb girl who has volunteered to let them use her sexually, and you can imagine the scene. These guys store up a week of pressure and frustration, and then take it out on some witless girl. I hear it gets pretty intense."
Roxanne shook her head in disbelief.
"How in the world do they find a girl to volunteer for it?"
"I sometimes wonder the same thing. They advertise in adult classifieds, offering a thousand dollars to a girl for volunteering for the meeting. I've actually looked up the ad, and it does warn about the abusive treatment, so I don't know how they always manage to come up with applicants. I guess there must be some girls out there who get really turned on by this sort of thing."
In the days following that conversation, Roxanne couldn't stop thinking about what her friend had revealed to her. Even as Shelly had been speaking, she had been afraid that something in her face would betray the fact that she often fantasized about being dominated by men. She never brought up the fantasies to her husband, of course. He was much too sexually uptight to explore these feelings with her.
Now that she knew what her male colleagues did for fun, her imagination worked overtime. Roxanne thought about it all the time when she masturbated. She hadn't felt this sexually energized in years. She imagined what it would look like, with twelve of the male surgeons (which twelve, she wondered?) surrounding some dumb girl who allowed herself to get roped into serving them. She imagined all of the indecent things that they would do to the girl.
Then, finally, she imagined herself as that girl. That always brought her off.
Of course, it was just a harmless fantasy. In reality, it was out of the question. These were her colleagues. She had her standing to think about. Even if these weren't her colleagues, she knew that she could never go through with it. It was too dangerous, too indecent, and altogether too exciting for her to even contemplate.
While going through her newspaper the following week, Roxanne took the time to scan the adult classifieds. Her curiosity had grown, and she just wanted to see what the ad looked like. She wanted to know the kinds of things that they expected from their 'volunteer'. A few extra details for her sexual fantasies couldn't hurt. Hell, it was normal. Even Shelly had looked the ad up after hearing the story.
SEEKING Sexually submissive female for group session.
Must be willing to accept abuse and humiliation from group of men.
Generous financial compensation. Safety and discretion assured. '
Dr. Tremblay read the ad three times. This must be the one, she told herself. She was a little disappointed that the ad didn't include more details. The words 'abuse and humiliation' really turned her on, but she was hoping to find out some of the specifics that had been absent in Shelly's account.
She recognized the contact number beneath the ad as a hospital extension.
What could it hurt to fish for a few details?
Her hands were trembling in a way very unbecoming a surgeon when she dialed the number.
"Dr. Vichy's office," a cheerful female voice answered.
There was one juicy detail. Dr. Vichy was the head of surgery, and a married man. Roxanne wondered what his wife would think of his exploits.
"Hi," Roxanne responded, not sure what to say next." I'm, uh, calling about the ad in the classifieds. '
"Would you like to come down for a screening?"
Screening? This was too weird.
"No, I was just looking for a little more information."
The voice on the other end of the line paused.
"I'm sorry, but I can only give out that information in person. No appointment is necessary. The address is..."
Roxanne hung up on the receptionist. Her heart was beating fast.
Yes, she wanted the details, but not enough to risk being found out by Dr. Vichy.
Damn she was turned on by this.
Maybe, just maybe, she could go into the office when she was sure that Dr. Vichy wouldn't be there. Then she could get all of the juicy details from the receptionist, but still not risk anyone finding out. That would be enough, she assured herself. That would satisfy her curiosity.
She lifted the phone again to call in for the surgical schedule.
Becky Keena loved her job. The pay was excellent, the workload was light, and her boss, Dr. Vichy, was rarely in the office. Becky could spend much of the day reading, or making personal calls, or whatever she wanted. Of course, there were always the screening sessions. That was the part of her job she liked best.
At least twice a week, a woman would come through the office door, usually with a copy of the newspaper in her hands. They were always so nervous. Becky knew exactly what these women were looking for, but she always liked to hear them say it anyhow.
"I'm here about the personals ad," said the woman who had just entered the office. The woman averted her eyes when she spoke.
Becky looked the woman over. The doctors would like this one. She was petite, clean cut, and quite pretty, in a low-key sort of way. She wasn't at all like some of the whorish women who came here, lured by the promise of money. This one didn't need the money, she could sense. Becky wondered, for a moment, if she recognized the woman from somewhere. She seemed familiar, but Becky couldn't place her.
"Do come in," chirped Becky enthusiastically. " I'll just close up the office for a while so that we can do the screening."
Becky walked past the nervous woman, and locked the front door of the office. She then led the way into Dr. Vichy's examination room.
"Please follow me."
The woman followed her, after a short pause, and took a seat on the examining
table when Becky motioned towards it.
"What's your name?" asked Becky.
It was a lie, Becky knew, but she had to call the woman something. Amanda it is.
"All right, Amanda. I need a contact phone number, where I can call if you pass the screening."
The woman was hesitant, but gave Becky a number. Becky copied down the number, and then continued.
"Okay, I'm going to need you to take off your clothes."
Becky had done a hundred of these screenings. Every woman reacted differently. This one was nervous as hell, biting her lower lip in apprehension, but she also seemed excited. If Becky could handle this right, the woman would definitely be a good candidate.
Presently, though, she wasn't making any move to take off her clothes. Becky knew that she was going to have to slow down with this one.
"Am I going too fast for you?"
"Well, I, uh ... I'm just a little nervous, and I wanted to know what I would be expected to do in this group session."
"That's okay," Becky assured her." Just relax, and I'll explain the whole thing while I do the physical examination. Don't worry. You can back out at any time, just say the word."
That seemed to calm the woman somewhat. She still seemed reluctant to take off her clothes, but Becky urged her along. The more the woman took off, the more Becky liked what she saw. The woman had a good, healthy body. Her skin was clear and pale, which was a nice contrast to her dark locks of hair, and her pussy was well-trimmed.
Everything about this woman said that she was classy; her posture, her clothes, and her manner. The doctors would love it, Becky knew. She had seen the videos of the meetings, and recalled that the men always seemed to enjoy humiliating the classy ones more. She licked her lips involuntarily, just thinking about what the doctors would do to this one.
"These are nice," said Becky, raising one of her hands to the woman's breasts. They weren't very large, but they had a nice shape to them. The woman made no effort to stop Becky from fondling her tits. In fact, her nipples hardened under the receptionist's touch. Maybe this one will be easier than I thought, Becky speculated.
"Why don't you lay face down on the exam table, Amanda, while I set up the video camera?"
That got the woman's attention.
"Don't worry. If you decide to back out after the screening session, I'll give you the tape. If you do decide to go ahead, my clients will want to see the tape before they make a decision."
"Please, I don't want my face on tape."
Not an uncommon request, actually. Becky had a comeback for everything.
.... There is more of this story ...