Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 313: The Doctor’s Diagnosis

A deep crimson hue saturated Nathalie’s skin as she nervously crumpled the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. "I—I couldn’t take it in my p-pussy anymore," she stammered through broken sobs, tears tracking down her cheeks.

"So I—I asked him to—to put it in my a-ass instead." The shameful confession poured out of her in a frantic rush, filling the room with the heavy scent of her humiliation.

Anya’s professional mask slipped for a fleeting second, her eyes widening. "Mrs. Nathalie, that’s extremely dangerous," she cautioned, her tone stern yet lacking malice.

"Your tissues aren't designed to endure that level of strain, particularly without any lubrication or preparation. You were at risk of severe injury."

Nathalie’s breath hitched, her response barely audible. "I know, Doctor," she confessed as fresh tears blurred her vision. "But h-he couldn’t stop. And I—I didn’t want to refuse him."

Though her gaze remained piercing, Anya’s expression softened. "Mrs. Nathalie, your health must be the priority," she insisted with gentle firmness. "You cannot continue to do this to yourself. Your body simply cannot handle it."

Thick with shame, Nathalie’s voice was a mere whisper as she nodded, a stray tear falling. "I understand, Doctor."

I stepped forward, carefully masking my true thoughts behind a look of deep contrition. Squeezing Nathalie’s hand gently, I spoke with a voice heavy with feigned remorse. "Wife, I’m sorry... I hurt you."

Still caught in the middle of her ordeal, Nathalie sniffled and shook her head. "H-husband, it’s not your fault..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "M-maybe it’s because I’m old... c-can’t satisfy you..."

"No. It is not that," I replied firmly, shaking my head.

Anya cut in, her tone shifting to offer a bit of reassurance. "Mrs. Nathalie, your age has nothing to do with this," she stated.

"While many wives complain that their husbands lose affection as the years pass, you are blessed." Her face then turned grave. "However, your current condition might be linked to Mr. Dexter’s... issue. Don't worry, though; we will do our utmost to assist you."

Turning back to Olivia, Anya resumed her professional air. "Olivia, go get a speculum and some sterile lubricant. An internal examination is necessary." Olivia gave a quick nod and hurried out.

While they waited, Anya’s eyes lingered on Nathalie. Her expression was a complex blend of medical concern and something more intense—perhaps fascination or pity. "Mrs. Nathalie, has your husband ever done this to you before?" she probed in a low voice.

Hesitating, Nathalie twisted her fingers together. "N-no, Doctor," she admitted with a shaky voice. "It has only been this way since we arrived in this world. He’s... different now. Stronger. More intense."

Anya’s curiosity was clearly piqued as her eyes narrowed. "Different in what way?" she pressed sharply.

Olivia returned with the medical supplies before Nathalie could respond. Taking the items, Anya refocused on the patient. "Mrs. Nathalie, I need to check for internal damage. This might be uncomfortable, okay?"

Nathalie nodded, her breath catching as the lubricant was applied. As soon as the speculum made contact, her body went rigid, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the table. "Nngh—" she whimpered, her body squirming as another embarrassing splash of fluid escaped her.

Anya’s eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion, though she maintained a clinical look. "The internal swelling is significant as well," she murmured with concern. "Mrs. Nathalie, I strongly advise you to avoid all sexual activity until you have healed. You risk a very serious injury otherwise."

"I'll try, Doctor," Nathalie whispered.

Removing the speculum, Anya looked grave. "No, Mrs. Nathalie," she corrected firmly. "You will. I am prescribing a mild painkiller and a topical ointment. You must rest." She paused, her gaze sharpening. "And your husband must exercise self-control. If not, the situation will only worsen."

Her face still burning with shame, Nathalie nodded as Anya helped her up and provided a tissue. "Thank you, Doctor," she murmured tremulously.

Anya watched Nathalie for a moment longer, her expression unreadable—a mix of cold detachment and a probing intensity, like a steel blade hidden in silk. "You're welcome, Mrs. Nathalie," she said softly. "Now, get dressed. I need a word with your husband."

I moved forward to help Nathalie sit up, adjusting her dress with a deliberate show of gentleness. My fingers brushed her shaking hands, causing her to flinch slightly, her face still flushed from the lingering embarrassment.

As we exited the exam room, Nathalie’s gait was unsteady, her entire being radiating a mixture of residual shame and relief. Olivia and Nancy, another nurse, followed behind us with neutral expressions.

We took seats in the waiting area. Attempting to regain her composure, Nathalie turned to Nancy. "Nancy, could you please get us some coffee?"

Nancy nodded and headed toward the machine, leaving us in a heavy, awkward silence.

Nathalie turned toward me, her eyes searching mine with a blend of worry and anticipation. "Mr. Dexter," she whispered, "after taking that medicine... do you feel any better? Or do you still feel... unrest?"

My cock was throbbing painfully, especially after watching Nathalie’s body betray her—squirting under Anya’s professional touch. I shifted in my seat, feigning embarrassment and pretending to stammer.

"D-Doctor," I said, my voice cracking as I looked away from Anya’s sharp eyes, "I—I still don’t feel right. In fact, it feels like it’s getting... worse." I spoke with a strained voice, my hands gripping the armrests as if I were struggling to stay still.

Anya’s eyebrows rose, her professional facade cracking for a moment as she looked between us. "It appears I may need to examine you as well, Mr. Dexter," she said with measured reluctance. "However, I do not treat male patients. I’m afraid we must wait for another doctor to arrive."

Suddenly, Nathalie grabbed my hand with a desperate, tight grip. "Doctor, please," she begged, her eyes wide.

"Help my husband. I—I don’t know what will happen if you don’t." Her voice shook, her fingers trembling against mine in a performance perfectly tuned for Anya’s benefit.

Anya observed Nathalie for a long beat, her gaze shifting to me before she finally sighed, her posture relaxing. "Very well," she conceded, though her voice remained cautious.

"I will examine Mr. Dexter’s... genital condition. But I will require your help, Mrs. Nathalie." Her eyes met Nathalie’s, a silent challenge passing between them.

Nathalie nodded quickly, her face flushing again—not with shame this time, but with the thrill of the game they were playing.

"Of course, Doctor," she whispered. "Whatever is needed."

Anya’s gaze moved back to me, her expression unreadable but filled with a new sense of curiosity. "Mr. Dexter," she commanded firmly, "follow me."