Unfortunately for me, I have a trip to the dentist coming up. Nothing major, just a little routine maintenance. Well, that’s what the hygienist would say, “It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine” but I must confess that the dentist scares me and trips to that chair are not on my list of favorite things. But I suck it up and take my medicine like a big girl because I’m an adult and that’s what adults do, right?
Yeah, I guess. But being an adult is such a drag sometimes! So I decided to have a little fun with it and make a little game out of the ordeal. It’s not hard, I get so anxious just walking through that door that I already feel a heightened sense of drama surrounding everything. What typically looks like a horror show of soft pastel scrubs and watered down jazz..well, it still is but my fantasy kicks in as soon as my butt hits that snazzy vinyl chair. I wore a low-cut top and a loose, flowy skirt, daring without underwear just to facilitate the experience. I take a deep breath after the hygienist leaves, and I begin to imagine that small bio-mechanical straps emerge from the armrests, tightening around my wrists. Similar straps wind their way around my abdomen, thighs, and ankles until I am completely restrained, unable to move my body an inch in either direction.
Just as I realize how helpless I am, I hear the door click as the doctor walk into the room behind me. As usual, he bustles around behind my head, doing who knows what while I listen to the little metal sounds of instruments hitting a sterile tray. The doctor coughs, clearing his throat and leaning over me, turning on the bright light and shining it into my eyes before I can get a clear view of his face. He pushes a button and the chair reclines a bit before I feel it moving in an unexpected direction, the mechanics forcing my legs open. Surprised, I try to find the doctor’s eyes in the flare of the bright lights while my own eyes flare open, darting with adrenaline. I hear a raspy chuckle in response, my face a theater, broadcasting every feeling in high-def for him to enjoy. A latex covered glove grabs a chunk of my inner thigh and slowly, so, fucking, slowly, slides its way towards my pussy, a growl in my ear wondering, “Are we wearing panties today, bad girl?”
The hygienist hands me a tiny cup and tells me to rinse and spit. I have to shake my head and blink for a second before I remember where I am. When I leave, I’m pretty conscious of the wet spot my crotch left on the chair. Blushing, I want to wipe it up before someone notices but hurriedly leave instead.