Receptionist Bonus

by Orestes

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Blackmail, DomSub, FemaleDom, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Masturbation, Water Sports, Doctor/Nurse, .

Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Things just get worse for Dr. Tremblay. With her life and career in ruins from her recent indiscretions, she tries to pick up the pieces by working for her friend as a receptionist. Unfortunately, she still can't quite get control over her urges, and worse, someone seems to know her secret.

Sitting through the hearing was worse than she would ever have imagined. Dr. Roxanne Tremblay sat before the disciplinary committee of the hospital for the first time in her career.

They couldn't do it, Roxanne tried to assure herself. They couldn't play the video in front of the whole committee.

Her hands were trembling as she watched the chairman of the committee toying with the remote control to the TV. He was only waiting for one committee member to return from lunch.

"Sorry I'm late, " said the last of the members as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. This was getting worse and worse for Roxanne. She actually recognized the man from the 'Cutter's Club', where all of her current troubles began.

"Good, now that we're all her, let's proceed."

He pushed the play button.

' Oh, god, yeah ... fuck me ... I need it in all my holes ... please ... someone fuck my ass..."

Roxanne watched the screen with growing horror. She was hardly recognizable in the video. The camera was stationary, as if someone had set it down on the arm of a chair, centered on the action.

A man was underneath Roxanne. She was straddling his cock. His face was just outside of the view of the camera. Her face, on the other hand, was quite visible. Her mouth, her chin, and her neck were coated in cum. Her dark hair was still tied up in the cute little ponytails, with little pink ribbons at the ends, but it too was splattered with fresh cum.

Her firm little breasts were also displayed in every detail by the video angle. Her nipples were swollen with lust, and quite red from the abuse of the other surgeons in the video. A clothes pin still hung painfully from one of her tits as she bounced herself up and down on the unknown man's tool.

"Nnng ... I need it in my tight little ass hole ... oh god, abuse my body ... I'm your slut..."

Responding to her pleas, another man moved in behind her. The camera didn't provide a good view of this man, as Roxanne's tortured body took up most of the view, but it was clear from the expression on her face that he was fulfilling her request. She pushed backwards in lust as the unknown man pushed into her rear hole.

Roxanne didn't really remember this part of the evening clearly. After a certain point, she had just allowed herself to wallow in the humiliation of being used by her colleagues sexually. Her fellow doctors punished her body, and fucked her mercilessly in every way imaginable. And she had loved the whole thing. Even now, while the committee sat in judgment of her actions, Roxanne couldn't help but be aroused by images of the video.

It was the consequences that she was regretting.

"That's enough, " the chairman said, pausing the video. The scene froze on a view of Roxanne taking yet another cock in her well-used mouth. The screen of the TV flickered up and down while on pause, giving this final frame the appearance of motion.

Roxanne just couldn't face these people. They were the senior administrators of the hospital. Across the table, the last man into the room smiled at Roxanne. He knew perfectly well who the other men in the video were, even though the video didn't show them. Hell, he had gotten as much mileage out of Roxanne as any of the men that evening.

It wouldn't help Roxanne to point the finger at him. It wasn't his face in that video. She knew as well as anyone that the other surgeons would circle their wagons and protect their own. Trying to implicate them in the making of the sex tape would just make things worse. They still had the other video, after all.

Finally, it was the only female member of the committee who spoke up. It was Charlotte LaBelle, a senior administrator, and a former friend of Roxanne's.

"Given the sensitive nature of the evidence, we would very much like to keep this matter out of the public eye. I'm sure that you will agree that this is in the best interest of all parties involved. So far, nothing has been leaked to the press. If we were to dismiss you from your position, I'm certain that the press would ask questions."

Roxanne waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Nonetheless, we can't condone this sort of behavior, even from one of our most talented surgeons. We are asking you to take an unpaid leave of absence from the hospital for the duration of a year."

There it went. With her current financial problems, it was as good as dismissal. There was no way she could go without her salary at the hospital while trying to resolve her coming divorce. Charlotte wasn't done yet, though.

"There is one other condition. You must sign an additional morality clause to your contract. Any further behavior of the sort shown in the video would result in severe financial penalties, as well as immediate dismissal. Is this all clear to you?"

Tears welled up in Roxanne's eyes.

"Yes."


Roxanne had to count her blessings. It was the only way that she could deal with her present problems. At least the hospital hadn't destroyed her career outright. If she could get through the year, she could almost pick up where she left off. Sure, she'd be embarrassed to work with the same surgeons who had so thoroughly humiliated her, but by the time she came back, it would be old news.

Of course, the problem was how to get through the year. Without the generous salary of the hospital, she had no income at all. The divorce would swallow all of her assets. Even if she didn't have student loans to pay off, she would need somewhere to live, and a way to pay her mounting bills.

That brought her to her second blessing; Shelly Pascal. Throughout the whole ordeal, Shelly had stood by Roxanne. When the rumors started circulating through the hospital, and no one wanted to be seen with her, Roxanne could still count on her weekly lunch with the cosmetic surgeon. Shelly even picked up the tab for the meals, because of Roxanne's current financial problems.

There was also the offer of employment. Under the terms of her contract, Roxanne knew that she couldn't practice medicine outside of the hospital. In no time, her financial resources would be tapped. Although she had initially balked at her friend's offer, it now looked like there was no alternative.

Shelly Pascal was opening her own clinic, and needed a receptionist. The thought of setting aside all of her medical knowledge, and lowering herself to the tasks of answering phones and booking appointments made Roxanne cringe. It was so humiliating.

I brought this on myself, she reminded herself silently. After the meeting, she had retreated to her office, hoping to leave when no one was looking. The office would be reassigned to another surgeon soon, and like everything else she had owned only a month before, it would slip away from her.

With still trembling hands, she picked up her telephone and dialed a number.

"Hi, Shelly, it's Roxanne. Um, about the receptionist position ... is that still a possibility?"


It had been an amazing first month for the Pascal Clinic. So much so that the patient waiting list had doubled and then tripled over the first three weeks. Lucy Gibbs felt fortunate to have taken the position as anesthesiologist when it first became available. Of course, only major procedures required her presence, but between Dr. Pascal and the other surgeon that she had brought into the clinic, Lucy had a fairly full schedule.

The success of the clinic brought prosperity with it. Dr. Pascal had already given the new staff a couple of bonuses for putting up with the increased work schedule, and promised that more financial rewards were on the way.

Most of the success was due to the strong reputation of Dr. Pascal. The kind of positive publicity that her reputation brought to the clinic just couldn't be bought. It was somewhat of a surprise to the staff when Dr. Pascal added the less reputable Dr. Robert Marsh to the staff.

"It pays to diversify, " she had explained at the staff meeting.

As far as Lucy could tell, the gamble paid off. In Dr. Marsh's previous practice, he had suffered from a reputation of performing risky and unnecessary procedures. There was even a rumor that he had taken on "fetish" business - customers who sought unusual body modifications as part of their lifestyle. Because of this, he never had much business from mainstream clients. Now that he was a member of the Pascal clinic, his schedule was booked with both his previous clients, and the run-off from Dr. Pascal's waiting list.

Lucy was really enjoying her time at the clinic. It was better than any hospital job that she had ever had. When she moved into town just the previous month, she had started looking for work, and just fluked onto a posting for the clinic.

The atmosphere was really upbeat here. Dr. Pascal was always nice to work with. Dr. Marsh was a bit of a pig, but the girls generally kept him in line. There were four nurses in the office, who would make sure that every preparation was made before a doctor came in to the operating room. Dr. Pascal ran the place like an assembly line. Everything was geared so that the doctor could be in and out of any procedure in the minimum amount of time.

A big part of the credit for that, in Lucy's mind, should go to Roxy. That's the name that Dr. Marsh called her anyway. Lucy was pretty sure that the woman preferred to be called Roxanne, but after Robert took to calling her Roxy, it just sort of caught on with the staff.

The woman was bright. Too bright to be a receptionist, really. She never needed to be told the name of a medical procedure twice. She was absolutely outstanding at making sure that the clinic was well stocked with medical supplies. Heck, she had even corrected Lucy on the proper dosage of an anesthetic for an elderly patient. Maybe she would have caught the problem herself anyhow, but it floored Lucy that the receptionist had noticed it.

It seemed like there was a special sort of relationship between Dr. Pascal and the receptionist. They had a kind of closeness that made Lucy wonder if there wasn't a little something more personal going on between the two of them.

Lucy couldn't blame Dr. Pascal if she was fooling around with the secretary. When she first came to the clinic, Lucy had given the woman a few appraising looks of her own. Normally, though, Lucy kept her preferences for women rather quiet. Rumors that she was a lesbian had been one of the things that had made her life less than comfortable in the rural area she had just moved away from. This time, she wanted to keep her personal life private.

In the last day, though, Lucy's mind return to the possibility of getting something going with Roxy. It had started with a conversation with Dr. Robert Marsh. The patient was unconscious, so Dr. Marsh had no problem speaking freely.

"God, I'm horny ... my wife blue balled me this morning."

Classic Dr. Marsh. He just liked to make a pig out of himself.

"Maybe I could get Roxy in here to relieve the pressure."

Lucy shook her head. " Careful there, Robert. Don't you doctors have some sort of code about not screwing around with each other's mates?"

"Oh, you think her and Shelly... ? No ... they're just friends. But that Roxy's one hot chick. I once saw a video of her that you wouldn't believe."

"Bull... " Lucy was accustomed to Robert's fables by now. " If she's so easy, why haven't you gone for her yet? You don't seem to have any moral inhibitions about it."

"Thanks for the suggestion, Loose. Maybe I will. I would just have to take the right approach. I happen to know that she's a real slut for humiliation. I'd have to be pretty careful how far I go with it, too. After all, she is Shelly's friend, and I wouldn't want to piss off the good doctor."


Roxanne couldn't help but resent Shelly's new found success just a little bit. The two women used to be equals. In fact, Roxanne had even made slightly more money than her friend because of her surgical specialty. Now, Roxanne was working as Dr. Shelly Pascal's office girl, and taking care of all the crap jobs that the nurses wouldn't do.

Certainly, she appreciated her friend standing behind her during this trouble, and Shelly was making every attempt to treat Roxanne with respect, but it still bothered Roxanne to see how easily her friend was bringing in thousands of dollars in revenue daily. In the meantime, Roxanne struggled to find enough money to cover her legal bills.

The divorce was almost final. She wasn't contesting it.

She would have to move out of the house. Just one more entry on the long list of consequences following from her sexual appetites. The kicker was, the hungers weren't going away.

Every night, Roxanne could take her pick from the humiliations of the last couple of months. Each one of them had given her endless pleasure when she masturbated.

Roxanne liked to think about the screening process she had gone through when she applied to be the 'entertainment' for the "Cutter's Club" of male surgeons. It always made her wet to think about the way that she had humiliated herself in front of the receptionist, Becky Keena, at Dr. Vichy's office in making the application. The irony that she, Dr. Roxanne Tremblay, had lowered herself now to the very same mindless position as that dumb girl wasn't lost on Roxanne.

Of course, another big turn-on was her memory of that night with the surgeons. The small portion of the video which she saw at the disciplinary committee meeting was only a sample of the many ways she had been degraded at their hands. The memories of that evening were burned into her head, and always brought her to a screaming orgasm. She found herself wishing for her very own copy of the now infamous video.

Even little things excited her. It was like now that she had allowed her submissive side some small place in her life, it was struggling to take possession of her soul entirely. In fact, it was the little things that were beginning to excite her most. The humiliation of being ordered around by the nurses at the office gave her little jolts of pleasure. Why should that excite her? Even the thought of being lowered to the position of office girl for her friend Shelly ... she tried not to think sexual thoughts about it. It was just a humiliating fact of her new life.

But there was the problem. It was the humiliation that always drove her on. It was the idea of the humiliation that had lured her to that first rash decision, and she could feel that desire to further humiliate herself lurking just beneath the surface.

"You don't mind sweeping up before you leave, do you Roxy?"

"No problem, " Roxanne told the nurse. Then came the little tingle of pleasure. She used to be able to write orders for a whole staff of nurses. Now she was doing menial tasks at this woman's request.

Something else excited Roxanne. She watched the tall black nurse, Pauline, as she prepared to leave the office. Did the nurse know? Had she heard the rumors? Shelly had promised to keep things quiet, but sometimes Roxanne got the feeling that some of the staff knew about her. These little humiliation fantasies were driving her to distraction.

Roxanne retrieved the broom from the supply closet, and began to sweep the reception area. She was bending forward to sweep under the reception desk, when she noticed a small envelope sitting atop the nursing reports.

The envelope was addressed simply: Roxy.

That goddamned pig Robert Marsh had shortened her name to Roxy, and now everyone called her that. Even Shelly had slipped up and called her Roxy the other day. But who would have left the envelope? Roxanne couldn't remember any of the staff dropping it off. It could be anyone.

When she opened the envelope and read the enclosed letter, her heart began to race.

' i know all about you slut

i saw the video

you still want more

don't try to deny yourself

tomorrow at lunch 12:15

go to the washroom

but don't lock the door

naked, blindfolded, on your knees

against the wall

i know you will be there '

Oh my god, thought Roxanne. It's too humiliating. Someone in the office knows everything, and wants to do things to me. Nasty things.

She couldn't go along with it. There was too much at stake. If she couldn't keep herself out of trouble, she would never be reinstated at the hospital. She would just have to keep control of her desires.

But who was it? One of the nurses? Dr. Marsh maybe, or Lucy, the anesthesiologist. In her wild imaginings, for an instant she even considered her friend Shelly. The idea was far fetched, but the possibility made her legs tremble. Whoever it was, Roxanne tried to muster the will to resist.

She folded the letter nervously into her pocket, and then continued to sweep the floor.


12:05 Roxanne checked her watch for the third time in a minute. The feeling in the pit of her stomach just wouldn't go away. This was lunch hour at the clinic, and the rest of the staff always went out for lunch, leaving Roxanne alone. She, on the other hand, couldn't afford to eat out in restaurants for lunch. Today it would have been a welcome diversion from her sexual curiosity.

First thing in the morning, Roxanne had come in with full intentions of bringing the letter to Shelly. Everything else aside, Shelly was a good friend, and Roxanne knew she could count on the doctor to deal with the problem.

Nonetheless, the letter remained folded in her purse. Yes, she was embarrassed to bring it up, but if that were the only reason she had kept the note, Roxanne wouldn't be feeling so nervous right now. Or checking her watch quite so frequently. There was some part of her that just wanted to surrender.

If she did what the letter writer wanted, maybe it could all be kept quiet, she tried to convince herself. Nobody would have to know ... not the hospital, not the other staff members, and certainly not Shelly.

In her heart, she didn't know if she believed that. 12:06.

Her mind wandered to what the scene would be in the washroom. She would be

kneeling there, against the wall. No one else is in the office. Someone would come in. She wondered if it would be one of the nurses, maybe even Pauline, the one who last left the office the previous night. Or could it be that pig Robert Marsh. That would be too degrading. Her pussy tingled. The thought of being abused by that chauvinist doctor brought back memories of her previous depraved acts.

A minute later, Roxanne found herself getting up to go to the washroom.

She turned back once, on her way to the washroom door, and then she approached again. With trembling hands, she opened the door and stepped in. It's not too late to back out now, she told herself. She wouldn't really have to go through with this. All she had to do was lock the door at the last minute.

That would end it.

She left the door unlocked for a moment, and looked herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed with excitement. The door was unlocked behind her, but she still had at least five minutes to back out. Her head buzzed with anticipation as she began to unbutton her blouse. Piece by piece, she removed her clothing, taking the time to fold them neatly onto the counter.

Now she was naked, and the door was still unlocked. 12:13.

She looked herself in the mirror again. She watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly. She could feel the warmth and wetness between her legs. She looked down to her crotch. She had shaved her pussy again after work the previous night. It seemed like she was doing it every couple of days now. The first time she had done it was in preparation for the "Cutter's club". Every time she looked at her bald crotch, it reminded her of that humiliation, and she couldn't seem to let the hair grow back in.

From her purse, Roxanne fished out a black strip of cloth. Why had she brought it? For the same reason that she had spend part of the previous evening wearing the makeshift blindfold in bed, she supposed. There was no harm in fantasizing, but now reality was approaching quickly. 12:14.

Roxanne knelt down on the floor of the washroom, beside the door. From here, she could quickly reach the lock of the door. She could still escape. She just wanted to know how it would feel, kneeling naked beside the door with the blindfold on. It was exquisite. She tied the blindfold tightly, until she was certain that she couldn't see anything.

She reached up beside her to see if the could find the door handle and lock to the washroom. Her hand slipped across the cold metal of the latch, but then returned to her side.

It must be 12:15 now, she thought. There was no noise from the office. The only thing she could hear was her own breath. Another minute ticked away. Roxanne's heart was pounding uncontrollably. She still hadn't locked the door. Was she really going to go through with this?

There was a noise in the reception room. Footsteps. They were coming towards the washroom. For a moment there was still time to lock the door. Roxanne paused, and then paused again. Her pussy was so wet that juices were leaking down her inner thighs.

A hand was on the door, and then Roxanne felt the cool movement of air across her back as the door opened. Then it closed again. The letter writer was in the washroom with her. Now she heard the lock on the door engage.

What was this person going to do with her, Roxanne couldn't wait to find out.

There was another set of sounds. First, the rustle of fabric. Then, unmistakably, Roxanne heard the sound of someone urinating into the toilet. How odd, Roxanne couldn't help but think. Here she was, ready to submit sexually to this person, and he or she was more concerned with taking a piss. The feeling was more than shameful. Roxanne's sexual submission was taking a back seat to a bladder movement.

The letter writer was behind Roxanne then, and touched her softly on the back of the neck. Roxanne quivered at the touch. The hand of her secret lover took firm hold around the back of her neck, and forced Roxanne to turn around, and drop to her hands and knees.

More than anything, she wanted to hear the voice of the writer. She wanted to be verbally abused, to be told how much she deserved to be on her knees. The words of the letter had been so fitting. Now the writer said nothing, but the grip around her neck directed her to crawl forward.

Something cold touched her chin. At first, Roxanne was puzzled, then she realized that it was the porcelain of the toilet that she had brushed up against. Still the grip insisted that she crawl forward. She could hear her own breathing in the bowl of the toilet now, as she crawled forward until the lip of the toilet was at the base of her neck. The toilet seat was gently brought down so that it rested on the back of her neck.

Roxanne knew her position now. She was on her hands and knees, with her face in the opening of the toilet, suspended only inches above the water. Being this close to the surface of the water, the sharp odor of fresh urine filled her nose.

The letter writer had released her neck now, but Roxanne didn't move a muscle. She got the message. This was how unimportant she was, that she belonged on her hands and knees, with her face in the toilet. Roxanne could imagine what she looked like, and it only increased her arousal.

There was a slap to her inner thigh, and then to the other. In response, Roxanne spread her knees apart. The hand that had slapped her felt strange. It took her a moment to figure out that the odd texture was that of latex medical gloves. The gloved fingers rubbed along the sensitive lips of her wet pussy now.

Roxanne arched her back, and pushed out her rear end to give the letter writer more access. She felt so very open in this position, with her body exposed in this shameful position. As the latex covered fingers continued to tease her, Roxanne began to whimper softly. The letter writer was deliberately bringing her close to climax, and then backing off.

"Please... " Roxanne moaned, the words reverberating in the porcelain bowl. "Please, I need it so badly."

Her body jerked back and forth involuntarily, trying to extend contact with the unseen fingers. Roxanne could feel her long hair soaking up the piss water of the toilet bowl, and with every involuntary action, her face was splashed with the vile liquid.

She didn't care. The sensations were just too arousing. Even the smell of the piss, and the idea that she was letting her face splash around in the urine of her new lover, they just made her more hungry for release.

A finger slipped inside of her now, then two. The other hand of the letter writer continued to stroke her swollen clitoris. The combination of the sensations was driving her wild.

One of Roxanne's arm slipped on the wet floor, and before she could recover, her face was briefly immersed in the water of the toilet.

"Oh god, I love it ... I love to have my face in your toilet water ... that's all I'm good for..."

Somehow, the words seemed necessary. If the letter writer wasn't going to tell her was a slut she was, then Roxanne would have to say it herself. The smell of urine was overpowering now. The blindfold was soaked with it.

A third finger slipped into Roxanne wet hole. Her whole body was convulsing now.

Finally, the latex fingers stopped teasing, and allowed Roxanne's orgasm to take her. The brunette went wild. Her face splashed around in the toilet bowl as she grunted and squealed out her climax. Her pussy contracted around the hand of her new lover, while her hips bounced back and forth.

"Nnnnng I'm cumming ... thank you ... oh god, thank you ... I'm yours ... I belong to you ... I'm all yours..."

At moments like these, Roxanne couldn't deny her role as a submissive slut. She squealed in sweet agony as her body responded to the degradation of being fucked by the fingers of an anonymous letter writer. By the time she could breathe again, her face and hair were completely soaked. The faint taste of the toilet water was even in her mouth.

It took her a minute to realize that she was alone again. The door closed behind her.

Roxanne lifted the toilet seat from the base of her neck, and tried to stand. She pulled the blindfold free, and caught her reflection in the mirror. She was a mess. 12:34. She had a few minutes yet to clean herself up before the others would return.

Atop the tank of the toilet, there was another envelope.


The days following the washroom incident left Roxanne filled with arousal and anxiety. She still had no idea of who had written the notes, and the uncertainty was killing her. Other types of uncertainty in her life were also taking their toll. The divorce had been finalized, and that left Roxanne practically homeless. A kind gesture by a co-worker, Lucy, gave Roxanne a place to stay, but finances were so tough that she didn't even know when she could help out with rent.

Lucy was understanding, though. She seemed like she really didn't mind having Roxanne around in the one bedroom apartment.

Roxanne was filled with the nagging suspicion that this girl might be the letter writer. The very day that Roxanne had moved in, Lucy had let it slip that she was a lesbian. Roxanne didn't have a particular problem with that, but it sure did make her wonder.

Of course, she had to keep her mind open about her other co-workers too. She certainly wasn't ready to ask her new roommate about it. If the girl had no idea about the letters, that would just be opening a whole new can of worms.

If Lucy was the letter writer, Roxanne wasn't sure how she would feel about it. The girl seemed nice, and perhaps she would be willing to keep everything private. That would be a load off of Roxanne's mind. On the other hand, Roxanne felt strange about the idea of being dominated by a woman. She had never been a lesbian. Even in her previous degrading episodes, it had ultimately been men who controlled the action.

Her fantasies thought otherwise, though. If it was degrading to submit sexually to men, something inside of her told her that it would be doubly humiliating to be dominated into performing homosexual acts. The fact that she wasn't particularly attracted to women only heightened the degradation involved.

She hoped that she would find out soon. The letter that had been left behind in the washroom had given her instructions to prepare for a meeting on the weekend.

' hello toilet slut

i like you on all fours

just like a dog

drinking from the toilet

you will come to the Royal Motel

room 16

10 days from now

saturday night at eleven

stand at the door

put on your blindfold

and knock

i will bring friends

wear no panties, whore '

Every day of that week Roxanne felt like she couldn't quite catch her breath. The other staff members didn't treat her any differently. Even Dr. Marsh seemed to be laying off of the sexual comments. Nonetheless, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

The nights of the week were spent on Lucy sofa. Try as she could, Roxanne couldn't prevent herself from masturbating after Lucy went to bed. The girl slept with her door open, which made Roxanne feel even more self-conscious. The orgasms always ended up being a little louder than she wanted. It wasn't anything she could control. All day, the sexual tension built up, and by the time she was on Lucy sofa at night, she needed relief desperately.

Finally, when the second Saturday came, Roxanne didn't even debate herself about whether she wanted to go to the motel. She just needed to get this thing out of her system. She still had her car, thank goodness, at least until she needed the money for something else. She was dreading that day. Now she sat in the driver's seat of the expensive vehicle, in the parking lot of one of the sleaziest motels in the city.

The rooms at the Royal Motel were posted with rental rates by the hour. A couple of hookers lingered by the front doorway, basking in the light of neon signs from the adult video store across the street. Stepping out the car, Roxanne felt like the perfect whore. No one goes to a room here for sleep. Under her short skirt, Roxanne's pussy was shaved and bare, and slick with excitement.

The surgeon walked across the parking lot to the door of room 16. She paused there, and looked around to see if anyone was watching. To her chagrin, the man in the motel office was watching her through his window with an amused expression on his face.

Best get this over with, she reasoned. From her purse, Roxanne pulled out the black strip of cloth, and secured it as a blindfold. Taking a final nervous breath, she knocked quietly on the door.

"Come in, " said a male voice that Roxanne didn't recognize. Somehow, she had expected that this evening would reveal the identity of the letter writer, but now she truth hit her. The letter had told her that there would be friends. She had no idea how many. Since she was blindfolded, she might not ever know which one of these people she knew.

Roxanne stumbled into the room, and was steadied by an unseen set of hands. They guided her to the edge of the bed.

"Get ready with the camcorder, " the same voice said.

She spoke before thinking. " No ... please."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. We're making a little documentary, and you're the star. We're going to see what a little whore you are, aren't we? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes ... but..."

A sick feeling hit Roxanne in the gut. Whoever wrote the notes probably knew about her troubles at the hospital. The video could ruin her career for good. She should be refusing this, but instead, she was surrendering. Part of her wanted every degrading moment of this to be on tape.

"Alright ... we're rolling. What's you're name, whore?"

"Roxanne."

"Isnt' that, 'Doctor'..."

"Yes. I'm Doctor Roxanne Tremblay."

"Show us your pussy, doctor."

She had no idea how many people were in the room. Someone was smoking. She could smell it in the air. They were all watching her. The camera was recording this moment too.

Slowly, she raised her ass off of the bed, and wiggled her skirt up to her waist.

"Very nice, " said the voice. Someone else whistled. " Why don't you spread your legs for us, doctor slut."

Roxanne parted her legs, a little at first, and then more. It shamed her for them to see how wet this display was making her.

"Where do you work, doctor slut?"

"At the Pascal Clinic."

"Very nice. Do you perform a lot of surgery?"

Roxanne's face flushed red.

"No. I work as the receptionist."

There were muffled laughs from around the room. For the first time, Shelly heard the voice of a woman in the motel room. The unknown woman took over the questioning.

"Play with yourself while you talk, doctor slut. We want to see how horny this makes you. Tell us what nasty things you did to get kicked out of the hospital."

Roxanne brought one hand in between her legs. It felt so very strange to play with herself in front of these people. She wanted them to abuse her. To be taken violently. This isn't what she had in mind.

"I ... uh ... volunteered to be used sexually by a group of my co-workers."

"Now why would you want to do something like that?"

The surgeon's delicate hand was gently rubbing her clitoris as she admitted her

desires.

"I like to be humiliated. It was always a fantasy. When I heard what they do to girls who volunteer, I couldn't help myself. I wanted them to whip me, and fuck me, and humiliate me."

"Did they fuck you in the ass?"

"Yes."

"Did they make you drink cum?"

"Yes. Oh yes."

"And you enjoyed it?" the woman pressed.

"Oh, goddamn yes. I loved it."

Roxanne could help but be turned on by this talk. It was what she fantasized about most frequently. Despite the fact that she had been sore for weeks afterwards, she had loved every painful moment.

"You love to be dominated by men?"

"Uh huh."

"And by women too..."

The doctor paused. This is something that she had hardly even admitted to herself.

"I think so."

"Have you ever submitted to a woman?"

"A little bit."

She felt uncomfortable talking about this. Her pussy urged her onwards.

"Her name was Becky Keena."

The voice questioned further. " Is she a doctor?"

"No. She's just a ... just a receptionist."

The room laughed again. Roxanne was the subject of the joke. Yes, Roxanne knew full well that 'just a receptionist' was exactly what she was too these days. Her face burned with humiliation.

"How did the great Dr. Roxanne Tremblay end up submitting to a mere receptionist?"

The voice was the male again. Roxanne was getting close to an orgasm, but slowed herself down. She didn't know if they would want her to cum.

"When I applied to entertain the other surgeons, she took my application. I let her take a video of me. God, I'm so ashamed. I was on an examination table, with my ass in the air. I let her touch my body, and it turned me on. The whipped me with her belt. She even put her fingers into my ass."

"Did you get off?"

"Yes. I came so hard. It was horrible."

"But you loved it, didn't you?"

"Uh huh."

"What else would you like to do with that receptionist."

Even in this situation, it seemed, well, awfully personal to lay her deepest fantasies on the table. Roxanne's body was shaking. Despite her attempted restraint, she was getting very close to a climax.

"I dream about her. I've never done anything else with a girl before, but I think about maybe ... well ... I think about licking her pussy for her. After the way I degraded myself in front of that receptionist, god help me, I want to lower myself again and lick her pussy lips."

"Do you want to be a cunt licking slut for this receptionist? Do you want to take a place between her legs, and worship her pussy? Is that where you belong?"

"God yes, I think about it all the time."

"Lay back on the bed."

Roxanne allowed herself to fall backwards onto the smelly sheets of the bed. All the while, she stroked her pussy, fantasizing about the time she had spent with Dr. Vichy's receptionist on that fateful first day.

"We're going to let you have your wish, doctor slut. One of the girls here will let you lick her pussy, and you can pretend that it belongs to the receptionist. Pretend that it's Becky."

Yes. Roxanne wanted this so badly. With her eyes covered, she could pretend that it was that dumb blond from Dr. Vichy's office who was crawling onto the bed beside her. One of the men, she imaged that it was the man who had been questioning her, was also positioning himself between her legs.

"Pretend that I'm that receptionist, doctor, " a female said from above her. The voice was familiar, but Roxanne couldn't place it. Was it one of the girls from the office? No. Right now, in her mind, this woman was becoming that dumb slut of a receptionist, ready to have her pussy licked by Dr. Roxanne Tremblay.

The woman straddled Roxanne's face. She could feel the woman's knees aside her shoulders. Roxanne couldn't wait to feel the wet pussy against her face. This was a fantasy come true. Between her legs, the male teased the entrance to her pussy with the head of his cock.

The first taste was exquisite. The girl was practically dripping. Roxanne took her first lick of female flesh, and then quickly took two more. The aroma filled her nose. She could truly imagine that this was the pussy and ass of that secretary that was being lowered onto her face. The very thought brought her to an unexpected little orgasm.

When the unknown man sunk himself into her, Roxanne began to lick and suck in earnest. The other people in the room cheered the man and woman on as they rode Roxanne from both ends.

"You're not so high and mighty now that you're licking my cunt, are you doctor As a matter of fact, you're just a receptionist now too. Maybe licking pussy should be part of your duties from now on."

Roxanne's fantasy was so strong that she could actually imagine that it was the voice of the cocky receptionist that taunted her. The words triggered another small orgasm in Roxanne, and the man inside of her grunted with approval as her pussy contracted around him.

Yes. This is where she belonged. Sucking pussy. Being fucked.

The surgeon continued to suck greedily on the wet pussy of the unknown woman.

The man between her legs picked up his pace. He slammed himself in and out of her well lubricated hole. Another set of hands was freeing Roxanne's small breasts from her blouse and bra.

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