As the nappy fell to the floor, he could not help staring at her body, looking down at her core as she hopped up onto the chair, he bottom sinking into the hole in the chair. “What is this for?” she asked, pulling the dummy from her mouth.
“To gain the measurements needed,” the doctor replied. “Legs apart.”
Edward watched as her knees were tied to the sides of the chair, her core half on view from her slightly sunken position. He realised as he looked at her that there was no turning back. He had to have her. If she passed the medical he would ask her to marry him, to become his little for the rest of their lives.
“Name?” the doctor asked, tying her wrists to the arms of the chair before picking up a notepad.
“Why am I being tied in place?”
“To stop you from falling if the measuring causes hysteria. Name?”
“Laura Rothsfield.”
“Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Are you sexually active?”
“Must I answer?”
“Yes you must. Have you ever had sex?”
“No, never.”
“Be honest. A beautiful woman like you with a body like that. Surely you must have done.”
“I have not and I am offended by the suggestion sir.”
“I merely have to be sure.” He took a tape measure and wrapped it around her left breast, making a note of the marker. He did the same with her right before taking note of the size of a multitude of her body pats. Her nipples, her lips, her fingers, all neatly recorded in his notepad. Finally, he stepped back and took hold of a handle on the wall. “You may feel a little discomfort Speak out if it becomes too much to cope with.”
He began to slowly wind the handle in a circle. “What are you doing?” Laura asked as the sound of cranking and clicking filled the air. She realised a moment later and Edward observed her reaction closely when the brass cylinder rose from beneath the chair and edged upwards between her buttocks.
“Let me go!” Laura yelled, fighting against the bonds holding her tightly in place.
“I will not,” the doctor replied bluntly. “I must first ascertain the measurements I need.” He continued slowly turning the handle.
“What measurements can you possibly find from such an intrusion?”
“How much you can fit inside you of course.”
As the cylinder continued its inexorable journey upwards, Laura gasped, the device easing its way up and into her bottom. She could not move away from it, remaining trapped in the chair as it moved upwards. She let out a shriek as the tip of it pushed into her posterior at last. “Oh my word,” she moaned. “That hurts.”
“You barely have an inch inside you,” the doctor replied. “Are you telling me that is all you can take? Your papa will not be happy.”
“No,” she said, looking as if her pride had been hurt. “I can take far more. It just hurts.”
“I know but this is to stretch you ready for your life as a little. The record is seven inches. Shall we see if you can top that?”
He cranked the handle again and the cylinder moved deeper into her. Edward watched, feeling his member stiffen at the thought of it being him easing into her instead. She looked as if se was torn between pain and pleasure, her body shuffling but her frantic attempts to escape her bonds fading away as she let out a low groan. The cranking continued and she fell silent, rocking slightly in place as the cylinder seemed to vanish inside her.
“My goodness,” the doctor said as he stopped the handle at last, looking at her panting and reddened face. He turned to Edward. “Would you believe she has nine inches inside her? That’s a new record.”
“What do you think of that Laura?” Mr Westall asked, looking across at her.
“Deeper,” she growled, surprising him by the hunger in her voice. The doctor blinked before laughing and turning back to her.
“Patience my dear, you may feel differently when we begin the second measurement.”
“Second one?” she gasped, still rocking in place.
“Indeed.” The doctor wheeled over a trolley with a metal pipe sticking forwards from the edge facing towards her. On the end of the pipe was a long rubber cylinder with a bulbous head. Rings marked off each inch along its length. The tip was placed directly between her legs, just touching her core. “Here we go,” the doctor continued, turning a handle connected to the side of the pipe.
The rubber cylinder moved forwards, bending slightly as it nudged into the entrance to her. She let out a deep low groan, wincing as it pushed past her entrance, clearly stretching her painfully before she was able to widen enough to comfortably accommodate it. “That’s an inch,” Mr Westall said. “How does that feel?”