Dental Exam [F/M]

[SwitchedAuth]

When I moved to my new town across the country, I said goodbye to a lot of familiar things, including the dentist I'd been seeing since middle school. He was the sort of gruff and no nonsense provider that gave you reassurance with his presence, if not with his words.

I didn't think much of my need for a new dentist at first, with all the more pressing changes taking a higher priority as I moved into a new apartment, started a new job, and began trying to find a new circle of friends in an unfamiliar city.

Still, enough check boxes were eventually filled on the to do list that I got around to the one for finding a new dentist.

I did my research online, comparing the offices in my insurance network with reviews on various sites, until I found one that had good reviews, took my insurance, and was nearby. On a nice day it would even be walkable from my apartment. I booked an appointment online for an initial evaluation and went back to the other tasks waiting for me on the seemingly never ending to do list.

A week later I walked into the dental clinic and checked in. It was a medium size office, with a couple dentists sharing the space. When I checked in at the desk, I was handed the standard insurance forms and new patient questionnaire to fill out. It asked about my medical and dental history, and whether I ever had any difficulty when seeing dentists in the past.

I filled out the questionnaire, and in the section about dental history checked yes for having TMJ and anxiety. TMJ syndrome, or Temporomandibular joint dysfunction, causes pain when moving the jaw from talking and chewing, among other things. Mine was relatively mild, thankfully, but it could still flare up and hurt like hell. I wasn't normally anxious, but I was a little apprehensive seeing a new provider since I'd been with the same one for so long.

I turned in my paperwork, and after only a couple minutes was called to the back by a perky young dental tech. She walked me down a short hallway to one of the exam rooms, and took X-rays and gave me a quick examination while making pleasant small talk about my move and how I was liking the new city. She gave me a couple restaurant recommendations as well, before telling me to hang out until the dentist came back to see me.

When the dentist came in and introduced herself, I had to take a breath before responding to avoid making a fool of myself. "Hi, I'm Dr. Holly. You must be Mr. Roberts?"

She was the kind of "girl next door" pretty I found irresistible, with shoulder length dirty blond hair in a loose bun and bright blue eyes, with just enough makeup to look like she wasn't wearing any at all. She was wearing scrubs, and while they're not the most flattering outfit, it was clear she was in very good shape. She was around 5'7", and from my best guess a B cup under her scrub top. I wasn't looking too hard, since I was here for a dental exam, not to be a creep to my new dentist.

She sat down and looked at the X-rays the tech had taken, poked around in my mouth a bit, and ran through my medical history questionnaire. She was very friendly and just as easy to talk to as the dental tech had been.

She asked several questions about my dental history, asking about anxiety first. She asked if I'd tried a weighted blanket for anxiety at home, and I explained that while I didn't generally feel anxiety and why I said yes to that question, I told her I did have a weighted blanket and enjoyed the feeling of it pressing down on me.

She nodded, made a note on her computer, and began asking about the TMJ. I told her how long I'd been feeling pain, how severe it was, when it flared up. She followed up by asking, "and how does the TMJ effect your quality of life?"

"It makes it difficult to enjoy a cheeseburger," I answered, before snarkily adding "and it makes it hard to wear a ball gag for extended periods."

The dentist looked up from the form at me. I'd said the last sentence with a half smirk that was supposed to make it clear I was joking, as I wasn't in the habit of being so overt and honest with strangers about my kinks. She gave a thin smile in reply and I was worried I'd offended her or made her uncomfortable, but as she looked back at her paperwork she absentmindedly responded "perhaps you should switch to using a different gag then."

We both chuckled, and she continued her history taking questions. I thought that would be the end of it, but when she walked me out to the reception area to schedule my cleaning, the end of our exchange made me wonder what was to come.

At the front desk, Dr. Holly told the tech at the computer to schedule me for a cleaning for the following week. She paused, and gave me a look suggesting she was trying to make a decision before adding "and please schedule him for the end of the day, in case he requires extra time for his appointment."

I wasn't sure what to make of that, and was too embarrassed by the possibilities to ask. Was it some sort of sexual innuendo? That would be rather brazen, especially in front of her staff in the waiting area. Was she suggesting that there was some reason to believe I couldn't handle a simple teeth cleaning? My pride was wounded by the suggestion, even if it hadn't actually been made.

I kept my mouth shut and let the receptionist list the available appointments before accepting a 5PM slot the following Thursday.

...

When I arrived that Thursday, the receptionist greeted me and checked me in. She told me to follow her, and led me directly to an exam room. Since I was the last patient, she didn't need to stick around, so she said goodbye before leaving for the night.

I sat in the same room for only a minute before Dr. Holly came into the exam room. I expected her to just say hello and tell me the dental tech would be along for my cleaning shortly, but I was in for a surprise.

"I'm actually going to do your cleaning myself, but wanted to get you suitably prepped before getting started."

I wasn't sure what she meant by that. "What sort of prep is necessary? I brushed my teeth before coming in," I told her.

"Good boy," she said, in a manner I found unexpectedly arousing. I hadn't expected the vaguely dominant undertone in that response, but I was even less prepared for what she said next. "Actually, I was thinking of your complaints about anxiety and TMJ from your initial appointment, and wanted to try killing two birds with one stone."

"Since we perform oral surgery on site, we have a number of medical restraints in our inventory. Obviously we use anesthesia instead of restraints for the primary care of patients during procedures, but we still occasionally need the restraints to prevent a sedated patient from falling out of the chair.

"Given that you said you enjoy the feeling of a weighted blanket, and especially because of your little ballgag quip during the exam last week, I thought I'd offer you the option of having some of the patient restraints applied during your cleaning. It sounds like the kind of thing that might mitigate your anxiety, or at the very least distract you."

I'm sure I was bright red, as my cheeks felt burning hot. I hesitated before replying, partly to make sure I didn't stumble over my words, and partly to wait and see if she was about to burst out laughing at the joke she was playing at my expense. When she didn't move and didn't crack a smile, but kept waiting with the expectant look of someone used to being in charge, I finally nodded and murmured "ok."

She didn't move, and continued to stare at me like the cat that caught the mouse, before a smile slowly spread across her face.

"Marvelous, let me get you sorted." She walked across the room to a supply cupboard and pulled out a drawer, digging into it to come up with a handful of straps of various lengths. They didn't look particularly intimidating, which I found somehow reassuring; the shorter ones looked almost like blood pressure cuffs.

"Put your arms on the armrests." I noted that she didn't say please. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it was clear she was giving me a command.

"Ok," I replied again, still not managing to get my linguistic feet under me.

"That's 'yes, Doctor,'" she corrected me, firmly. I knew plenty of doctors that bristled at dentists that used that title to describe themselves, but I certainly wasn't going to bring that up. Her tone still wasn't harsh, but it was unmistakably dominant in a way that left no room for disagreement. This appointment was taking a very different direction than I'd ever anticipated.

"Yes, Doctor," I responded, placing my arms on the armrests as instructed. The armrests were adjustable up and down and made of the same padded material as the chair, with a front that rounded over and connected them to the base of the chair.

Dr. Holly took one of the straps and looped it under the armrest. From the focus she was giving to its placement, it was apparent that she was threading the strap through a loop attached to the inside of the armrest, and not just sliding it through the large opening between the armrest and the chair body. I hadn't realized until that point that the chair was designed to accommodate strap positioning.

With the cuff attached to the armrest, Dr. Holly folded one side over my arm and tucked it closely to the side of the arm rest, before taking the other side, threading it through a buckle, and pulling it firmly back, cinching the strap down and pressing it firmly against the exposed Velcro of the cuff.

The effect was snug, but not too tight. I had the impression I could struggle out of the cuff if necessary, but I wasn't planning on trying that yet.

Dr. Holly leaned across my body to fix the other cuff to the armrest on the left side of the chair. Doing so brought her head within a foot of mine, and I caught a whiff of her shampoo. She smelled as intoxicating as she looked.

"Are you being a perv and sniffing my head?" She asked, as though reading my mind. I hadn't moved my head and didn't think I was sniffing conspicuously, and shook my head with a "No, Doctor."

"Good boy" she said again, not looking up as she continued adjusting the strap. She tightened the strap around my left arm, and sat back up. I was effectively stuck, and she continued to improve the restraints with the addition of several more straps.

She added two over my legs, one over my thighs, and the next over my shins, halfway between my feet and knees. Both of these clipped onto hooks attached to the sides of the seat, and the right strap was pulled through a loop on the left before being pulled back, creating tension before the Velcro was smoothed down. She did the same with another strap at my waist.

Another strap attached to the top of the chair just below the armpit, and was tightened in a similar manner to the other straps. "Does that obstruct your breathing at all?" She asked, giving each strap an experimental tug, tightening them here and there. When she tightened the arm straps, I no longer had any confidence that I could struggle out if I tried.

"No, Doctor," I replied, finally daring to try and shift in my seat and finding little maneuvering room. The contour of the dental exam chair prevented me from scooting up or down without pushing with my legs, and despite the position of the leg straps leaving my feet relatively free, they were kept in such a position that I couldn't dig them in and push off with them.

"Good" she said, smiling again as she looked me over once more. "I just have one more thing for you, then we can get started." Instead of going back to the supply cabinet, this time Dr. Holly walked to her desk, and picked up her purse.

"This is from my personal collection. Are you familiar with Dr. Walter Whitehead?" I shook my head. "He invented this useful little tool that bears his name. Allow me to introduce you to the Whitehead gag." She pulled her hand out of her purse to reveal a pair of curved metal bars connected by a pair of ratcheting hinges on either side. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about your TMJ. These are adjustable, so we can find out the limits of your tolerance for both size and duration."

I started to try and form words to protest, but by this point she was standing by my side and firmly grasped me by my lower jaw. "Don't make this difficult now. Open up, doctor's orders." She had what I hoped was a playfully sinister tone and smile as she said that, and I didn't fight as she positioned the two bars of the gag between my teeth. Slowly, playfully, she clicked the ratchet larger and larger, never breaking eye contact with me as she did.

The curve of the bars left a tab of metal behind my front teeth on the top and bottom of my mouth, preventing me from pushing the gag out. Thankfully, she was true to her word, and didn't force the ratchet too wide. She stopped when my mouth was forced open about three quarters of the way it would have been with most of the ball gags I've used, leaving my lips parted by at least an inch.

I moaned in a mix of discomfort and pleasure. Dr. Holly rubbed my cheek tenderly, and somewhat patronizingly said "that isn't so bad, is it?"

I tried to respond "No, doctor," but what came out was a jumble of vowels. She chuckled again before saying "I'm so glad to hear it. Now, get comfortable, I have some paperwork to finish and have to close up the front office before we can get started with your cleaning."

I moaned and tried to make my displeasure at the thought of being left like this clear, but Dr. Holly just ignored me and walked out the door, shutting it behind her. I was left in the sterile exam room with nothing to so much as look at on the wall in front of me. There was an analog clock ticking away in the room, but unfortunately for me, it was on the wall behind my head. I could listen to it tick, but without seeing the clock I could only estimate how much time had passed, as I wasn't able to maintain focus and lost count of the passing seconds and minutes.

I don't know how much time passed while I was sitting there. I've always found dental chairs to be ergonomic, and didn't develop any discomfort from sitting there - for a while. After what must have been nearly half an hour, I started to try and squirm and shift my position, to little effect.

The gag made it difficult to swallow, causing a pool of saliva to form in my mouth, but with my head upright I was able to swallow just enough to keep from drooling. I wasn't sure how much longer that would stay true, though. Paradoxically, despite all the saliva, my mouth was also drying out. It made sense, since I couldn't do anything to wet the roof of my mouth, but it added to the discomfort.

The position of my jaw was the worst part. Even though Dr. Holly had been forgiving with how much she'd ratcheted the gag, the sensation was moving from uncomfortable to painful, and I couldn't do anything to alleviate it. I considered trying to call out, but the possibility that other people were still in the office kept me quiet. I could only imagine my embarrassment if someone other than her opened the door to find me like this. Eventually, the pain became too much. I swallowed my pride (if not my saliva), and tried to call out.

Again, I wasn't able to make much more than a series of vowels come out, but I hoped they were loud enough to be heard in the waiting room, or wherever Dr. Holly was. I shouted, grunted, or whatever best described the sounds I was making a few times, then paused to listen for any signs that she heard me.

It didn't take long.

Almost as soon as I finished calling out, the door opened. Dr. Holly walked in, her face still wearing the mischievous smile she had when she gagged me.

"Thirty seven minutes, I'm impressed!" She must have been waiting outside the door waiting for me to make a noise. She stood over me and gently stroked my cheek. "Would you like a break from that gag?"

I nodded and croaked out a "es ocher," the closest I could come to the "yes, doctor" she was expecting of me.

"Very good," she said, and she released the crank holding the ratchet open and slowly removed the gag from behind my teeth. I slowly closed my jaw, swallowed, and tried to work sensation back into my mouth. Dr. Holly wiped a finger under my eye, coming away with one of the tears I hadn't realized had leaked out from the pain.

"Poor baby. You didn't have to let yourself suffer all this time, I could have let you go much sooner if you'd just let me know. Do you need any water?" Besides the "poor baby," she sounded sincere, and from the look on her face I had the impression she was actually concerned about how I was doing.

I nodded "It's ok, I can endure it,' I said, trying to hold back a grimace from the pain I felt when I spoke. Dr. Holly put her hand on my cheek, gently moved my head so I was looking her in the eye, and without warning gave me a soft but sharp slap with her other hand.

"I don't like false bravado or being told what someone thinks I want to hear. You don't strike me as a pain slut, and looking at all your nonverbal cues you're in quite a lot of pain. Don't do that again." With that, she pushed my head into the chair's headrest with the hand that was still holding my face, and walked over to the sink to fill a cup with water. She brought it back and patiently held it to my lips as I took slow sips. The boomeranging between harsh and compassionate was doing a number on me, but I found it intoxicating nonetheless.

Once I finished the cup of water, she threw it in the trash next to the chair and asked how I was feeling. While there was still some soreness in my jaw, it didn't hurt as much when I experimentally opened it. I told her I was sore, but otherwise fine.

"Good, then are you ready for your cleaning?" At this point I'd almost forgot the supposed reason for being there. I nodded, which earned me a sharp look followed by a "What was that?"

"Yes, Doctor," I corrected myself. She smiled, which was the last glimpse of her face I got as she put on a surgical mask and goggles. She pulled a pair of nitrile gloves out of a box in the supply cabinet next to the exam chair, and snapped them on while looking me in the eye. The effect was both intimidating and arousing.

"Be honest now, can you tolerate the Whitehead gag again while I do your cleaning?" The prospect of having my jaw forced open again wasn't one I looked forward to, but it would probably be worse trying to hold my mouth open under my own power. I told her as much and she nodded, adding "grunt three times whenever you need a break."

I replied "Yes, Doctor" before she repositioned the gag behind my teeth and ratcheted my mouth open. She snapped a disposable bib around my neck before reclining my seat back, and set to work with the cleaning tools. She was entirely businesslike during the cleaning, and if it weren't for the straps and gag I might have mistaken this for any other appointment.

There were some deviations from the normal dental cleaning routine. When she needed to suction my mouth after rinsing my teeth, she couldn't just tell me to close my lips around the suction tube; she had to release the ratchets first so the gag would let me. She did this a couple times, each time holding the side of the gag so it wouldn't slip out of position, allowing her to crank the ratchet again with minimal fuss once she'd completed the suctioning.

"Do you need a drink?" She asked at one point about halfway through the cleaning. I nodded and gave her my best "yes, Doctor," and she used the water nozzle to squirt water into my open mouth. When I couldn't completely swallow the water, she laughed and began to toy with me. "Oh no, if you don't swallow that you'll end up drooling all over yourself," she said as she took hold of my lower lip with one of her gloved hands and slowly pulled down, causing the water pooled in my mouth to begin dripping onto the bib. "My, what a mess you're making. Let me help you clean up," she so helpfully offered as she sprayed me in the face with the water nozzle. She laughed as I tried to shake my head under the small but steady flow of water, before putting the nozzle down and wiping my face and chin off with the bib. Finally, she released the ratchets on the gag again and actually let me have a drink of water.

After retightening the gag, she finished her cleaning and applied fluoride to my teeth. To get to the back of the teeth that had the bars of the gag pressed against them, she reduced the ratchet in size a couple notches and pushed the gag further into my mouth with one hand while using her dental tools and brushes to make quick work of the spots she might have otherwise missed. Despite the extra hardware and added layers of kinkiness of this cleaning, she was professionally thorough and didn't skimp on doing her job.

With the final touches of the cleaning out of the way, she released the gag ratchets for the final time and gently pulled it out of my mouth, setting it on the tray next to us. I expected her to begin unstrapping me from the chair, but she wasn't done playing with me yet. She took her still gloved fingers and pushed them into my mouth, probing around my gums and generally being invasive without jamming her fingers into the back of my throat and making me gag. If you've never had someone put their fingers in your mouth like that, it's hard to describe just how vulnerable it makes you feel, and emphasizes the control they have. It was, as with many of the things she'd done to me that day, unbelievably arousing.

She left her index and middle finger in my mouth, the tips of them resting on the back of my teeth, and simply but definitively commanded "suck." I closed my lips around her fingers and began working my mouth back and forth along them, putting the slightly foul taste of the nitrile gloves out of my mind as I worked my tongue around her penetrating digits. I'd done this to people I'd topped, especially after fingering people with internal genitalia, and I knew how erotic and powerful it felt to be the one giving that command. I gave her that same attention until she withdrew her fingers after a minute, once again leaving the tips of her fingers balanced on my teeth.

"Bite down," she said, and I slowly closed my teeth. I wasn't sure what she intended, and if this was a very unconventional way of bottoming from the top, but as she began to pull her other fingers and thumb out of the glove with her free hand, I understood what she intended me to do. I gripped the nitrile material in my teeth as she worked her fingers out of the glove, leaving it dangling from my mouth once she worked the rest of her hand free. She continued to look me in the eyes as she reached down with her now unadorned hand and removed her other glove, before reaching up and removing her goggles, and finally her surgical mask, setting the goggles down on the tray and throwing the glove and mask into the trash.

She wasn't smiling, but the look on her face was a mix of satisfaction, power, and lust. I held onto the glove in my mouth until she reached out and took it from me, depositing it in the trash. She continued to stare for a note or two longer, then blinked and broke out into a grin. "I hope that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me."

I nodded, and with a smile on my face as well told her it was, following up with a "doctor" before she could correct me. She began to undo the straps, working her way up from my feet, releasing my legs, thighs, and torso, before finally releasing my arms from the chair. No longer restrained, I was unsure of what I should do. I sat there for a moment, looking up at her, before she stood and used the foot pedal to sit me back into an upright position.

"Your teeth and gums look good, but you might need to schedule more cleanings than the average person to make sure they stay that way," Dr. Holly remarked casually as she walked me back to the lobby, unlocking the front door to let me out.

I smiled back and hesitated before saying, "I'm not sure my insurance will cover that."

She stopped and fixed me with a firm stare and a smirk, saying "I guess we'll have to find a suitable arrangement for you to make another form of payment."

I smiled back and started to walk through the door to leave. As I set foot outside, Dr. Holly called after me. "Oh and Mr. Roberts?" I looked back. "Make sure to floss." I couldn't be sure if that was generic dental advice or a threat of what was to come, but I was looking forward to finding out.

[Red86]

With the comment of him being told he should make more then the average appointments and needing to make other arrangements for payment since insurance likely wouldn't cover it, sounds like these two would have an interesting doctor/patient relationship. Especially since the doc brought the gag from her personal stash

[LunaDog]

You know, i don't normally like going to the dentists, such visits usually involving pain. But i have a feeling matters might be somewhat different regarding an appointment with this particular practitioner though! Superb story.

[jone123]

this story speaks to a very specific fantasy of mine haha thank you for writing it