Chapter 6A

This is the sixth story about my life as a hooker.
Getting pregnant isn’t always a good thing. This is a 2 part story about my new gynecologist and, in the second part, my lawyer.

This series is about a young girl coming of age in a world shaped by defiance, of the rules I was taught, of the shame imposed on my body, of the silence expected of me, and my own identity. I sought out freedom in dangerous places, chasing experiences that blurred the line between rebellion and self-discovery.

I created a world of my own, where desire dictated the rules and innocence was redefined, and I ended up choosing the wrong path.

Important disclaimer:
All characters are over 18 years old in this part.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. As a non-native English speaker (I’m Swedish), please forgive the occasional grammatical error or awkward phrasing.

Characters:
Me, Sarah, 25 at this time
Glenn, The Doc, My Gynecologist 57
Stan, My lawyer, 55

Ok, ready to go? Let’s roll, part 6-1

Part 6 - My pregnancy didn’t quite turn out the way it ought to...

Part 6, Part 1 - The Gynecologist{br}

I was 27 and five months pregnant when my longtime OB/GYN retired, and they assigned me to his replacement, Dr. Evans. One morning, I got an email from the clinic letting me know Dr. Evans had to cancel my next appointment. They suggested I see Dr. Steward over on Greenline Drive instead.When I called, they told me there’d been a last-minute cancellation that afternoon and offered to fit me in. They emailed over the intake paperwork, and I settled in bed to fill it out, clipboard balanced on my knee. I wore a simple white cotton tank that hugged my breasts - breasts that had outgrown their old D-cup size and now filled a DD or maybe even an E. It was a small but satisfying reminder of how much my body was changing.

While filling it out, I noticed myself getting excited, feeling a familiar tingling. There were some interesting questions beyond the family and medical history. How sensitive are your nipples? How easily do you orgasm? In which position and with what kind of contact do you typically orgasm? Since I loved sex more than ever since becoming pregnant, I found myself gladly scrawling in the blanks in response.

The next day, I slipped into a simple, striped cotton dress that hugged my growing belly and took the train across town. It was only a short walk from the station before I spotted a discreet metal plaque reading Women’s Clinic next to a glass doorway. I pressed the buzzer, was buzzed up without ceremony, and stepped into a waiting room that was unimpressive at best, a bit dingy around the edges.

The admin behind the counter was friendly enough, chatting easily as she took my intake papers and slipped them into a folder. With a knowing glint in her eye, she told me I’d be seeing Dr. Steward and assured me I’d be very pleased with him.

The women in the waiting room were all at different stages of pregnancy, or else looked unassumingly “unpregnant” - unlike me, with my round, unmistakably pregnant belly. I checked in, then settled into a plastic chair and scrolled my phone until a nurse stepped into the doorway and called my name.

“Sarah?” she said brightly. “Hi, I’m Sophie, I’ll be assisting Dr. Steward today, helping to get you prepped and supporting you however you need.”

I nodded, taking her in: light-skinned, short natural curls, almond-shaped eyes, full lips, a small chest paired with a perfect bubble butt. Sophie carried herself with a calm confidence that made me feel, for the first time in a while, like I might actually be in good hands.

Sophie weighed me, measured my height, and handed me a plastic cup for a urine sample. On my way to the bathroom, I caught sight of a doctor stepping into an exam room, tall, fit, with a chiseled jawline and salt-and-pepper hair. As he disappeared inside, I glimpsed a woman on the exam table, turned away, wearing one of those flimsy, open-backed gowns. A nurse slipped in behind him and closed the door, leaving me to wonder, my heart beating just a bit faster, what exactly I was about to step into myself.

After I’d finished in the bathroom, Sophie guided me to an exam room of my own. It was spacious but no less dingy than the waiting area, harsh fluorescent lights making everything look clinical and cold.

She had me sit on the edge of the exam table while she pulled up my file on the computer, scrolling through the details I’d entered on the long intake form.

Then she turned to me, professional but kind.
“So, Sarah,” she began, “can you tell me more about what’s going on? Have you been sexually active since contraception?
“No, well at first, but that changed fairly soon.”
“Ok, sorry to hear that, you do know that having sex does not affect your child, right?”
“Yes, I know, it’s not, that...”
“I understand, it’s a fairly common thing, I’m afraid. I can see that your nipples and very sensitive, and then you’ve experienced some milk leakage.
Does that turn you on?”
“What ... that I leak milk?”
“Well, yes.”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“Sorry, it only goes to understand where you are, in ... well, your mental state.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was both feeling a bit awkward about the whole conversation and a bit turned on.

“Ok, a bit, I’d always thought that pregnancy and sucking milk from a pregnant woman’s breast was ... well, sort of hot.”
“It is, I agree,” the sexy assistant said, and it looked like she was blushing a bit.

“And your breast, sensitive, as in pain?”
“No, not painful really, just sensitive to material, I have to wear a bra all the time, since when my nipples touch just my top, I...”
“You?”
“I ... get horny.”
“Wow, that’s ho ... nice,” she said and shifted her body position.
“And ... when you get horny, do you do anything about it?”

I thought that she was asking way too many weird questions, but she was so hot and I was getting wet, so I played along.

“Yes, I either use my fingers or I have three different dildos, one is a double- ended thick one.”
“Ohh, my...”
“Yes, I use that with ... a friend of mine, have you tried?” I boldly answered.
“No, but let’s move on.” I was 100% sure this was turning her on, m I smiled to myself.

“And would you be comfortable if Dr. Steward recommends any additional tests to get a clearer picture?”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing as I prepared to answer, aware of every flutter in my swollen belly and every question that still hung in the air.

“Okay, we’ll play this a little by ear and let the doctor decide how he’d like to proceed.”

“Isn’t an exam pretty straightforward?” I asked innocently, getting so turned on. There was something so erotic about our exchange. I couldn’t stop staring at her lips, shiny with a clear gloss.

Sophie studied me for a moment, her expression shifting from curious to professional. Then she began to explain, “Most women who come here already know exactly what kind of services we provide. But every so often, someone like you, someone as beautiful as you, walks in without really knowing what to expect. So let me give you a clearer picture of what we do here, so you can decide if it feels right for you.”

She finished with a warm, reassuring smile.

“It’s our philosophy here that by connecting pain with an erotic experience, the process of childbirth can become not only easier but also naturally more pleasurable. Beyond that, we help women gain a deeper understanding of their own orgasmic responses and develop a sense of ownership over their bodies. Instead of simply performing routine examinations, we actually train the body to handle pain and to adapt in ways that will be essential during labor and after birth.

Our mission is to create a space where you feel truly safe and empowered to explore the boundaries of your erotic self as it relates to your pregnancy and your upcoming birth.”

I must have looked silly, with my mouth ajar and not any muscle moving.

I genuinely wanted to go through with this, I did. Especially if the doctor was even half as attractive as the woman in front of me in her mulberry-colored scrubs. The excitement about all the mysterious possibilities drowned out any second thoughts or logistical worries. I told Sophie I was ready, and she responded by clapping her hands with bright enthusiasm, giving me another warm smile as she handed over a waiver. I signed it with quick, nervous strokes.

“All right,” she said, “the first thing I’ll need you to do is undress completely, including your underwear, and put on this gown.” It was the same kind I’d seen on the other patient earlier.

“I can step out if you’d like privacy,” she offered.
“No,” I told her, “it’s totally fine.”

I slipped off my dress, bra, and panties, pulled on the gown, and settled myself on the exam table. The thin paper beneath me clung to my skin, making me feel awkwardly exposed. A chill ran through me, and I shivered a bit as I sat there, just like I’d seen that other patient do earlier. My bare skin felt stark against the cool air of the room, my ass sticking to the paper as I tried to get comfortable.

“Sorry, I look awful in my gown,”
“Not at all. You look ... quite beautiful,” she said softly, her warm brown eyes meeting mine, then quickly looking away. I heard her take a quick out-breath. Her soft lips formed a slight ‘o as she blew warm air out. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

She was holding a thermometer and a small bottle of lubricant. She caught my questioning look and explained calmly, “It’s our policy to take temperatures either vaginally or rectally, since these methods are more accurate.”

She went on, “Because Dr. Steward hasn’t performed a vaginal examination yet, I’ll need to measure your temperature rectally.”

She gently guided me into a knee-to-chest position on the table. I faced the wall while I heard her preparing behind me, the faint rustle of gloves and supplies making my heart pound. Then her voice came softly but firmly:
“I’m going to lift your gown now. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I answered, feeling a chill against my bare skin as she adjusted the gown over my hip and gently lifted one cheek. Cold air hit my exposed backside, making me flush with a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement.

“It looks like you may have some hemorrhoids, which is really common during pregnancy,” she observed matter-of-factly, and I let out a frustrated groan.

“The doctor might want to do an additional check or two today, but we’ll wait for him to decide,” she continued.

I felt my cheeks close back together before I heard the click of a bottle opening and the soft squeeze of lubricant being dispensed. She lifted my cheek again, and I felt her slippery, gloved finger gently rub around my back door entrance.

“Take three deep breaths for me,” she instructed. I tried to relax, breathing slowly, and on the third breath, she carefully slipped her finger into my rectum. My sphincter muscle clenched and pulsed around the intruding finger as she pressed further in, exploring with calm precision.

“Try to push down a little with each breath, like you’re having a bowel movement,” she coached softly.

She continued her gentle examination, then withdrew her finger.

“No wonder you’ve got hemorrhoids,” she noted. “You’re pretty constipated. After I take your rectal temperature and do a quick cleaning, I’ll insert a couple of suppositories before the doctor comes in.”

“Cleaning?”
“Alright,” she said calmly, “we always begin our examination, or session, by washing your genitals. If you could place your feet in the stirrups for me, I’ll get you started.”

I positioned my legs and lifted them into the stirrups, feeling exposed. She set up a small basin with warm soapy water, pulled on a fresh pair of clear white gloves, and picked up a cloth. Standing beside me, she asked me to scoot forward toward the edge of the chair.

As she prepared, she explained in a soothing tone, “You can see this part of the process in a couple of different ways. One is that it’s simply a hygienic task to get through. But another is to let yourself lean into it — think of it as a chance to awaken your erotic energy, almost like a spa treatment for your body.”

With that, she soaped up her hand and let some of the water drip onto my pussy and migrate down my slit. It was so warm and delicious. Next she placed an empty pan below my buttocks, sat between my legs, and placed the whole cloth over my whole pussy, rested it there momentarily, then swiping it down but not quite reaching my ass.

“You have beautiful, full lips. Let me spread them a little.” She used a gloved finger to gingerly fan my skin out, then drenched the whole area.

With that, I groaned. “That’s right, let out any noise that makes sense, and please let me know if anything hurts.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I wanted so badly to feel the pressure of her fingers on my clit, but she seemed dead set on touching everywhere but there.

She held my labia open. “Now I will clean out your vagina with my fingers.” She deftly used two fingers and slid them in my slick pussy. Then she spread them and curled them toward herself while pulling them out. I was squirming at this point. And staring at her. A beautiful woman was taking such good care of my cunt. Before I was ready for her to get up, Sophie removed her fingers, gave me an apologetic smile, and removed her gloves.

“Wonderful,” she exclaimed. “Now for the last part, the ultrasound.”

I laughed nervously, as I climbed into the ultrasound chair. The leather was cold and raised goosebumps, making my nipples rub against the gown’s silky fabric. I distracted myself from the feeling by staring at the nurse’s hands - one hand holding a wand, the other one busily moving a mouse and dial. She turned to look at me, and in the quickest of milliseconds, her eyes darted down to my protruding belly and nipples.

“So, I’m going to apply some lube to the wand, and let’s have at how things have progressed.” I nodded. She placed some warmed-up lube at the tip of her wand. “Ready?” she asked, her tone kind but teasing. “Okay,” I whispered.

Her gentle hands lifted the end of my gown and guided the wand down to my vagina. As the wand touched my already sensitive area, I jolted suddenly. It was far from unpleasant. She rubbed the warm lube around my entrance, watching my face intently. I suddenly realized that I had been biting my lower lip, and my eyes had closed. I arched back in the chair.