Put Your Cock Inside and Stir to Relieve My Pain, My Gynecologist! novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Toy in the Bag
Brynn's cramp hits mid-shift, she locks herself in an exam room with her toy, and is summoned to Dr. Finbarr's office, where the toy rolls out at his feet and her confession ends with: take off your panties.
The cramp hit me at the nurses' station, in the middle of Dee reading out a patient's allergy list.
It started low and deep, a hard squeeze behind my pubic bone, and it did not let go.
I gripped the edge of the counter and kept my face still.
This was month six of it.
It only ever happened on shift, never at my apartment and never on my days off.
It only ever stopped one way.
I needed something inside me, thick and right now.
"Brynn?" Dee lowered the chart and looked at me over her glasses. "You've gone red."
"Headache," I said. "I'm taking five minutes."
"Take ten. You look awful."
I grabbed my bag and walked down the hall with my thighs pressed together, because every step rubbed and made the squeeze worse.
Exam room 3 was empty.
I went in, pulled the curtain across, and turned the lock.
The lock had been broken since March. I turned it anyway and hoped.
My scrubs were damp when I shoved them down with my underwear. I climbed onto the table, and the paper crackled under me.
I dug past my wallet in the bag until my hand closed on it.
I had bought it online after the third time this happened at work. It was silicone, thick, and warm from riding against my hip all day.
I pushed the head against myself. I was soaked and shaking.
I didn't go slow. Slow had never worked.
The stretch burned as it went in, and I bit my lip so I wouldn't groan.
Then it filled me, and the cramp gave a little, and I pushed for more.
"Yes," I whispered. "Come on. Open for it."
I pulled it almost out and drove it back in, again and again, until the wet sound of it was loud in the little room and I stopped caring.
My free hand shoved up my top and pinched my nipple.
"That's it. Take all of it. Look how badly you want it."
My knees were shaking. I tried to keep my moans down and couldn't.
The pressure wound tight in my belly, and I angled the toy to grind on the sore, swollen place deep inside.
"Almost," I gasped. "God, almost, I'm going to..."
The door opened.
The curtain was still shut, but the lock had done nothing, and a man's voice came through the cloth.
"Brynn? You in there?"
I froze.
Then I tore the toy out of me so fast it made a wet pop, and I stuffed it into my bag.
I dragged my scrubs up with shaking hands and wiped my face on my sleeve. Between my legs I was still clenching around nothing.
"Yes," I said. "Just a second."
I stepped out through the curtain with the bag crushed against my ribs.
An orderly stood in the doorway looking sorry to have bothered me.
"Dee said you came this way. Dr. Finbarr wants you in his office. Now."
All the blood in my body went to my face.
Dr. Finbarr.
"Okay," I said. "I'm going."
His door was half open when I got there. I pushed it the rest of the way.
Ezra Finbarr looked up from a chart, and the corners of his eyes creased.
"Brynn. Good. Come in."
He said my name low and slow. It went through me.
He sat back in his chair with his white coat open over a dark shirt and his sleeves rolled to the elbow.
He had broad shoulders and strong bare forearms, and dark eyes that always knew more than they let on.
He was my brother Judd's best friend.
He had sat at every Caldwell Thanksgiving of my life, and he had treated me like a kid at all of them.
Six months ago he came back to our floor as the new attending. It was the same week my boyfriend left.
I looked at his mouth while he talked, and I pictured it between my legs.
I could not stop picturing it, his tongue inside me and my fingers in his hair while I rode his face.
"Brynn."
I jerked. "Yes. Sorry."
"The patient in 4B. Her labs came back clean, so you can stop her vitals after midnight." He tilted his head. "That's all. You can go."
"Thanks."
I turned to leave and my foot caught the leg of the visitor chair.
I threw out a hand and caught the desk. The bag swung off my arm and hit the floor, and everything spilled.
My wallet. My phone. A pack of gloves.
The toy bounced once off the chair leg, rolled across the tile, and stopped against his shoe.
It was wet. It shone.
Nobody moved.
Ezra looked down at it.
Something crossed his face, too quick to read, and then it was gone.
I dropped to my knees and reached.
He was faster. He bent and picked it up in one hand, and he straightened with it held loosely, his thumb sliding down the shining length.
His face was blank. He wasn't disgusted and he wasn't laughing.
I could not breathe.
He knew exactly what it was and exactly where it had been ten minutes ago.
He stepped closer and held it between us. I could smell myself on it.
"What is this, Brynn?"
I snatched it out of his hand and hid it behind my back.
"It's a friend's," I said. "She left it in my bag."
It was the worst lie I had ever told.
"A friend's," he said. "It's still wet, and she left it in your bag today."
He waited.
"Why would anyone carry that around?"
I looked at the floor. My throat had shut.
Then two warm hands cupped my face and tilted it up.
His thumbs moved along my cheekbones. His eyes held mine, calm and steady.
"You don't have to be embarrassed," he said. "Not with me."
"I'm not?" It came out small.
"No. I'm a doctor. A body having needs is not something I judge." His thumbs stopped. "What I want to know is why you're doing it on shift."
His hands stayed where they were. I could smell the soap on his wrists.
I had always been able to tell him anything, even the things I never should have.
"It started when Preston left," I said. "Six months ago. Every time we got close, my body locked up, and he got tired of waiting."
My voice shook.
"He was patient for a while. I'm still a virgin, Ezra."
Something moved in his face.
"And the cramps?"
"They come out of nowhere. Deep, low, here at work. It only goes away if I push that thing inside until it stretches me."
His eyes dropped to my mouth and came back up.
"So you've never had a man inside you."
"No."
His gaze went dark. One corner of his mouth moved.
"Where does it start?" he asked, in the voice he used on patients. "At the opening, or deep?"
"Deep."
"Does it spread to your thighs? Your back?"
"My thighs. And my clit throbs until it hurts."
"How long does the relief last after you use it?"
"An hour. Sometimes less."
"And before you ever touch yourself, are you already wet, or does it take work?"
I swallowed.
"I'm soaked," I whispered. "Every time."
He stayed there, close, and let the silence run.
Then his hands slid off my face, and I swayed at the loss of them.
He stepped back and sat on the edge of his desk. When he spoke, his voice had gone completely level and professional.
"Take off your panties, Brynn, and get up on the desk. Let me examine you."
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