Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 312: Nathalie’s Puffed Up Pussy

Nathalie gave a slight nod, her voice barely a whisper. "At times... walking becomes quite a struggle," she confessed, her face turning a bright crimson. "The pain eases after I rest for a bit. However, considering my husband’s condition... he lacks self-control, making it nearly impossible for me to get any real recovery."

Internally, I gave Nathalie a thumbs-up for her stellar acting. She was executing her role flawlessly, using her visible shame and frailty to make our fabricated story incredibly believable.

Anya’s stern expression softened just a fraction, though her gaze remained observant and piercing. "Mrs. Nathalie," she began, her tone gentle yet authoritative, "if you are comfortable... may I perform an examination of your genital area to determine if there is an underlying issue?"

The flush on Nathalie’s face deepened as she cast a quick, panicked look toward me. I mimicked a blush of my own, offering a subtle nod to signal my silent approval.

Her voice shook as she hesitated. "O-okay, Doctor," Nathalie stammered, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt.

Anya’s command sliced through the silence, leaving no room for debate. "Nurse Olivia, set up an examination table in the next room." Her voice carried the weight of absolute authority, the kind that forced immediate compliance. Turning back to Nathalie, her sharp eyes softened only slightly, though her commanding aura remained. "Mrs. Nathalie, please follow me."

Nathalie’s breathing hitched, and her chest felt constricted as if the oxygen had thickened. Her knuckles turned white as she twisted her fingers in her lap, her thighs clamping together by instinct. She threw a desperate, wide-eyed look my way, her cheeks already glowing with a fiery red heat.

"D-Dexter..." she breathed, her voice so unstable the name was barely audible. Her bottom lip trembled, her whole being radiating a silent, humiliated plea for me not to leave her side.

Mistaking Nathalie’s reluctance for simple modesty, Anya gave a small, reassuring nod. "Mr. Dexter, you are welcome to accompany us," she stated, a hint of warmth finally touching her voice. "To provide your wife with some comfort."

I offered a stiff nod, keeping my expression carefully neutral as I followed them.

The exam room felt clinical and cold, with harsh white lights casting an unforgiving glare on the surroundings. The sharp tang of antiseptic filled the air, causing Nathalie’s frantic breaths to become even shallower. Anya pointed toward the table; the paper lining crinkled loudly as Nathalie moved toward it with hesitant steps.

"Mrs. Nathalie, please remove your clothing from the waist down and lie back on the table," Anya directed. Her professional tone was tempered with a kindness that failed to soothe Nathalie’s growing dread. "Olivia is here to assist you if needed."

Nathalie’s hands shook violently as they hovered over her hemline. "D-Doctor, is this necessary?" she asked with a cracking voice. "C-could you not simply—examine me from the outside? I—I am s-so ashamed—" Her face was a mask of pure mortification, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her body shivering as if the thought of exposure was physical torture.

Anya remained unmoved. "Mrs. Nathalie, I must determine the level of swelling and check for any internal damage," she said firmly, making it clear there was no room for negotiation. "This is essential for your health. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can finish."

Gasping for air in short bursts, Nathalie swallowed hard. Finally, she gave a weak nod, her fingers fumbling clumsily with her clothes.

Olivia moved in, her touch light and supportive as she helped Nathalie raise her dress, but Nathalie’s entire frame remained stiff with shame. As the cool room air touched her bare skin, she let out a small whimper, her hands instinctively darting down to hide herself.

"It is quite alright, Mrs. Nathalie," Olivia whispered, gently moving the woman’s hands aside. "The doctor needs to see."

Nathalie’s features contorted, her cheeks burning as she was positioned on the table with her dress pushed up to her waist. She clamped her eyes shut, her breathing ragged while her fingers dug into the paper beneath her.

The sharp snap of Anya’s latex gloves made Nathalie flinch. The doctor’s footsteps echoed with an ominous weight in the silent room as she approached.

"Mrs. Nathalie, try to relax as best as you can," Anya said softly, though the command was still present. "This won't cause pain, but it may feel uncomfortable."

Nathalie gave a jerky nod, her knuckles turning bone-white as she gripped the table’s edge. She bit down on her lip, her muscles tensed as if she were waiting for an attack.

Anya gently spread Nathalie’s thighs. As soon as those gloved fingers brushed against the sensitive, inflamed flesh, Nathalie gasped, her back arching off the table. "Oh—!" A strangled, humiliating sound escaped her throat, her face twisting in a conflict of pain and a much more shameful sensation—pleasure.

Anya’s brows twitched upward, her clinical mask slipping for a brief second. "Mrs. Nathalie..." she murmured, sounding genuinely surprised. As her fingers pressed into the swollen tissue with professional precision, Nathalie’s body betrayed her utterly.

An obscene, wet sound broke the silence as her pussy, despite the discomfort, squirted in response to the examination. A sudden rush of fluid soaked into the paper lining below her.

"N-no—!" Nathalie cried out, her face nearly exploding with shame. "I—I am s-so sorry, Doctor, I d-didn’t mean to—I c-can’t—" Her voice failed her, her frame shaking violently as her thighs tried to snap shut in a desperate attempt to hide.

Anya’s face showed a mix of shock, curiosity, and concern before she regained her composure. "It is okay, Mrs. Nathalie," she said steadily, though a spark of intrigue remained in her eyes. "Your body is simply in a hyper-sensitive state. This is a natural physical reaction."

However, Nathalie was too far gone for logic. "P-please, Doctor, I—I am so humiliated—" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands while her body trembled with disgrace.

Ignoring the outburst, Anya stayed focused on the task at hand. "Mrs. Nathalie, your labia show significant swelling," she remarked, her voice clinical yet concerned.

"There is also visible bruising. This aligns with a history of repeated, forceful intercourse." Her fingers continued their precise movements, causing Nathalie to gasp again as another wet sound filled the room. "Does it hurt when I apply pressure here?"

"Y-yes!" Nathalie wailed, her muscles tightening as she clawed at the table. "It h-hurts, but it—it also—" She couldn't finish the sentence, keeping her face hidden in her hands while her cheeks blazed.

Anya’s look sharpened instantly. "It also what, Mrs. Nathalie?"

Nathalie shook her head frantically, her voice muffled by her palms. "N-nothing, Doctor."

Anya didn’t push for an answer, but her eyes narrowed as she moved lower. "Mrs. Nathalie, I am also noticing rough abrasions around your anus," she said, her tone becoming much more grave. "Has your husband engaged in anal penetration with you?"