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#speculum
heart-2-get · 3 months
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mmm i love lying back on the bed, my legs spread wide and my pussy stuffed with a speculum, cranked open as far as it can go, clenching desperately around the blades while my heart races away in my chest
i love the feeling of being so humiliated, so exposed, knowing that anyone who walked in at that moment would be able to see deep inside me, see my cute, pink little cervix all slick and ready for a load, knowing that anyone who wanted to could pick up the stethoscope on my bedside table and press it to chest could hear the frantic racing of my heartbeat
what would you do if you walked in on me, hmm?
would you use me? pull the speculum out and fill me with your cock? breed me while I begged you to cum deep inside me?
would you press the stethoscope to my chest? listen to my pounding heart while you touched my clit, explored my wide open pussy? would you make my heart race even faster so that you could hear it skip when I came?
mmm, what a dream come true...
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Anonymous asked:
Meanest thing to a subby boy would be slow methodical stretching. Sub being laid out on a gynecologist chair, legs held open and naked body barely covered by a thin sheet. His tight pussy slowly being fingered open with no hope of orgasm. Sometimes his examiner will quietly comment about how swollen his clit is, or make note whenever she manages to slip another finger in. Eventually she gets an entire hand inside, now pushing further to tease his cervix. Painfully opened wide and ready for insemenation.
oh my god yes 🤤 bonus points if he’s strapped down and blindfolded! poor baby can feel a lot of uncomfortable sensations but doesn’t know what’s happening, just told he would be examined. but oh dear, why does it feel so cold down there? something is stretching, ah, now it’s hot, he doesn’t know what’s happening! meanwhile they’ve inserted a jumbo speculum, nearly a foot long, deep into his tummy and are pulling it open. he’s whimpering and moaning as they open up his cervix so wide they can clearly see the soft cavern in him, inviting the other doctors to come take a look!
source: mickeyimagines.tumblr.com archive on the wayback machine
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naughtypuppyprince · 5 months
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More About Speculum Play
Being stretched out with a speculum can heighten a submissive’s senses and open them up to sensations not available through other forms of play. Speculum play also allows a dominant to see parts of a submissive that they could not usually see. This can be very erotic for the dominant.
Stainless steel speculums are intended for multiple use, while Perspex speculums should be discarded after use. Disposable speculums are ideal for multiple-partner speculum play. There are also specially designed speculums for anal use. These are the only ones you should use for rear-entry play.
Since speculums are made from metal or hard plastic, they can be uncomfortable to insert and could even cause tearing. Start small and go slow. Use a silicone- or water-based lubricant to make insertion easier. You may also like to insert a finger first to warm up the area.
People experimenting with speculums should take similar precautions to doctors to ensure safe, hygienic play. Dominants should wash their hands, wear surgical gloves, and wipe down the speculum with an alcohol swab to sanitize it before insertion. While making speculum play hygienic, it also makes the play feel more realistic. You can also sanitize stainless steel speculums with boiling water or by running them through the dishwasher.
As with all types of BDSM play, both parties should discuss their desires and limits before engaging in speculum play. Implement a safe word so the submissive can stop the scene at any time. In addition, dominants should closely monitor their submissives for signs of real discomfort or pain. Some discomfort is normal, but it shouldn’t be excessive. Speculums and lubricants also shouldn’t be shared among partners, unless the speculum is thoroughly sterilized
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Esther Forbes - A Mirror for Witches - Cedric Chivers - 1973
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cantstayaway · 6 days
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have such a fantasy of my little pink hole being spread open by a speculum while filthy man over man stand over me,spit in me and shoot load after load of warm cum deep into me🤤🤤
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professornightmare · 10 days
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yeowninefive · 5 months
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Speculum (Chapters I and II)
Not quite staring into a mirror. But the parallels are...haunting, so to speak. Even moreso when for Halloween, you're dressed as the other's appearance!
Left is Annalogue, my mime OC. Right is Noss the Nosferatu, created by @rariatoo. Noss is one of the main sources of inspiration for Annalogue's design. (This is also a followup to my Noss-inspired "Amalog" design for Annalogue I created last October.)
(In both drawings, you can also see another of rariatoo's characters, Zakuro the Vampire. Where is she?)
(This is the last of my queue of late Halloween artwork I'm publishing after Halloween.)
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tawneybel · 1 year
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Note: I wish there were more Valentine-themed horror movies. With a lack of romantically inclined slashers, I take it upon myself to write them. 😘
Imagine the recently awoken Harry Warden stalling his spree to try to convince you to engage in some medical play.
Nursing did not prepare you for this much gore. Sure, grisly accidents and assaults happened, but a massacre… Nothing could prepare you for the aftermath of the Miner’s rage. All carried out by hand. Or whatever hospital equipment he had weaponized.
Warden lacked a surgeon’s precision. That much was clear, by the sight of your fellow nurse’s hollowed trunk. You assumed it was her heart Harry presented in an appropriately cardiac box.
If I survive, you figured, anything heart-shaped’s going to send mine into palpitations. But your training kicked in and you composed yourself before accepting the gift.
Warden’s hand reached for your stethoscope. Instead of wrapping around your neck, he placed it over his own heart. Without a word, you donned the ear pieces. Reports said the other miners were offed quickly. You suspected it was done in cold blood, but Harry’s heart was racing now.
Hand closing over the bell, he took your wrist. For a minute neither of you moved. His breath and heartbeat permeated the room. Then, Harry dropped the tubing.
Before you could react, a blood/ied rubber glove was snapped over your hand. He picked up its twin along with a speculum and thermometer in his other hand, presenting them to you.
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bare-booty · 2 years
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I have my first Pap smear on the 19th
(yes I know I should’ve had at least one by now shut up)
I’m genuinely nervous that I’m going to get hard and wet enough that the doctor is gonna notice. The potential embarrassment of getting off to a Pap smear in front of my attractive doctor just makes everything worse too 🙈
On the bright side though I’ve already considered buying a speculum and this will just confirm if I should or not. Orrrrrrr I could just buy one and see how hot it gets me.
Hmmmm decisions decisions
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naughtypuppyprince · 5 months
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One of my own personal fetishes
Speculum play is any sexual interactions involving the use of the medical devices called speculums. During speculum play, a dominant partner typically takes on the role of a doctor while a submissive person plays the patient.
Speculum play can involve internal examinations of the vagina or anus. Speculum play may be used to add variety to the sex life, especially among BDSM couples. It may be a component of a medical-themed BDSM scene or a key part of the way someone with a medical fetish enjoys sex.
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deviljinnina · 4 months
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That's a nice touch ❤️
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ilikevintagebooks · 2 years
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Ye olde uterine devices.
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"On this account we never find it necessary to administer chloroform..."
Dear sweet lord!
No. Just no to all of this.
From The Common Sense Medical Advisee 1895
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speakin-4-myself · 1 year
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Some of these heaux heaux heauxs won't get it either. #speculum https://www.instagram.com/p/CmmWFdOOXlO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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moonlady101 · 1 year
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Speculum: The search
First of all, I’m really sorry for the lateness, but I’ve had some events in my life which had made it impossible for me to post this sooner. But just as promised, here it is the first story of this small project. The protagonist is Penelope, hope you enjoy!:
I can still remember the moment I heard the words leaving the herald's cracked lips. He stood there afterwards, staring expectantly at his audience, awaiting for an avalanche of questions or a cheer that never came, because we could barely process the message he had brought to Ithaca all the way from the east. We must have been the last to know, that was the first thought I had as I watched my father in law slowly rise to make a speech, his wife had broken down to tears and for I wondered if I should follow her example. Ten years, that's how long we had been holding our breath each time someone brought us news from the battlefield, listening fearfully to the names of those who had been struck by a Troyan spear, or killed by the plague. Telemachus was by my side, his eyes wide open, as they are now as we sail across unknown waters, watching the horizon carefully, as if he expected to avert his father awaiting for us on the coastline. I waited a year and two months, more than enough for him to make his way back home. In all that time constant news dropped about the other's νοστοι, Pyrrus, Nestor, the unlucky Agamemnon and even of his brother Menelaus alongside his wretched wife. After their stories were told the aedus would pause and Anticlea would open her mouth and with her trembling old lips would mutter the question we all wanted to make "what about my son?". I came to terms with losing my husband after the first year of the war, before that I would lay awake every night imagining his corpse laying abandoned over the sand covered in dirt, sweat and dry blood, carrying every wound I could imagine from spears, arrows and swords. "The master is smart" Anticlea would always say as I sat silent working on the loom, she would raise her head proud of her words, of the boy she had raised as if he was her own and in those moments I wondered if she actually had wanted him to leave, after all, what would bring the palace more glory than having its king fight on the biggest battle of his time, even if that meant being away from his wife and child for so long? "There is a ship stranded on that island, potnia" the kybernetes pointed at a landspot which had appeared in front of us while I had been distracted with my own thoughts. I looked ahead and for a moment I thought that he was making it up, but then I searched through the shore and there it was, discarded over the beach like an old toy, I recognized it, how could I not? It haunted my dreams since I watched it depart from Ithaca with my husband on it. Why did it take him to Troy and refused to return him home? Perhaps it had grown old too, after ten years of being motionless on the same spot, perhaps it forgot the way home. The island was small and covered with a thick forest that made it impossible to see through the surface.
Telemachus had already jumped from the ship and into the shore before I could warn him to be careful, not that I needed to anyway; he had been brought up in a palace filled with women and old people, he couldn’t be blamed for not being as reckless as other boys his age. I wondered if that would have been the case of the son’s of Agamemnon and the other Achaeans, and suddenly I remembered, Orestes had fled the city right after his mother had chopped his father’s head off, making Aegisthus the new ruler of Mycenae. Can’t say I felt sorry for that, I had had time to reflect on her actions and she was not short of reasons to do what she did; her daughter was sacrificed right in front of her while she was held back by… Oh, now I know why I stopped thinking about it.
For a while I tried to convince myself that he would still be himself afterwards, that all he would bring back home would be the scars and some Trojan treasures; and for a while it worked; to me he was still my husband, always wearing that mischievous smile, not malicious but childishly wicked, making me lose my mind in every possible way. I loved the way he enjoyed messing with me, it made me feel alive, as if someone, for the first time in my life saw me as a partner, as something more than a wife, as something more than a mother.
The moment he left I could feel myself shrinking, a part of me was ripped and thrown away to the sea and all I could do was to sit and wait, loom, drink, eat and sleep and occasionally listen to the stories brought to us by men who would at most spend two days in the palace an then leave. I watched my son grow and ask about his father, at first only a little bit, and then he wanted to know more, until not only had I nothing more to say, but also grew tired of speaking of the shadow of the king of Ithaca. Love turned to longing, which after the seventh summer began to shift, as much as it pains me to admit this, into a creeping mixture of anger and despair.
I walked across the trees and breathed in the welcoming smell of wild flowers and dry land, never before had I missed walking on the hard rock, free from the constant swinging of the wavy sea. It was so quiet that for a moment I allowed myself to close my eyes, a light breeze blew over my skin, still damp and smelling of salt.
I did not sense her at first, she moved like Dyonisus panthers, making no sound and leaving no trace; her bare feet slid across the rocks, the grass and the sand  the same way mine did across the hallways of the palace. Her eyes were wild (I am aware of how vague that word is, but I found no better way to describe them) and her hair flowed around her face in such a way that for a moment I feared her being Medusa, but as much as I was unable to move, I did not turn to stone. Her arms were flexed, so were her knees, her short tunic allowing her to move much more freely than mine did. And then I noticed the small sharp object her left hand had drawn forward, pointing directly at me.
“Who are you?” Her voice was deep and clear, and even if I had never met a god before, I knew that she wasn’t entirely human.
“I am looking for my husband” Was all I managed to say, in a shaky and weak voice. She filled in so much space with her presence that the island felt for a moment too small for the both of us.
“Many men have arrived to this island” She replied. My mouth was dry and a sweet smell had suddenly made the atmosphere thick enough to make breathing hard, my head began spinning as I tried to focus.
“My husband is Odysseus, his ship is stranded on the shore, I came here to bring him back home” As his name left my lips I realized just how long it had been since I last pronounced it.
Odysseus, my husband, the king of Ithaca, Athena’s favourite and son of Laertes. He had so many names that sometimes I would think of him as someone else. Over the course of the years he had become something closer to myth than to reality, and even in my head I  sometimes was unable to distinguish what was real and what just what I heard about him. Were his eyes blue as the sea we sailed through? Or were they brown as the woodened horse which made them win the war? Not even by staring at Telemachus was I able to find an answer. At first I tried to hold onto him; every single night as I awaited for Morpheus to take me I would see him in the dark, imagining him by my side, stretching his arms to wrap me in his warmth; but then the memories got blurry and I was unable to hold onto them any longer. He faded, leaving me alone in a bed which was colder than it had ever been.
She did not speak again, but instead turned around and began to walk into the forest. I did not move, until she looked back, her face carrying an expression I couldn’t read.
“Well?” She raised her eyebrows, making her eyes look even bigger. “Aren’t you coming to get him?”
I did follow her then, my wobbling legs were no match for her agile steps, but I managed to keep up with them in order not to get lost. Arriving to a house no bigger than the ones which surrounded the palace of Ithaca.
Odysseus was there. And while I had expected to meet with a weary, tired and older man; he looked exactly the same as he did eleven years ago; he hadn’t change, not even did he hold noticeable scars on his body besides the ones which I had been familiar with. Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me, but I could almost swear he looked younger.
I was unable to cry to my own surprise, he stared at me, I can imagine that he wondered if I was real, I dare to say that he, on the contrary was unable to recognize me at first. He did not cry either, he just stood there, opening and closing his lips as if he were a fish, gasping for water on the dry land.
“Your wife came for you Odysseus” And it was once more the calm low voice of the godlike woman the one which broke the silence.
Of all the things I had expected Odysseus being mad at me was none of them, but was exactly what happened; “Insane woman”, “reckless”, “unwise”… I stared at him as he continued to let out the cascade of anger of his lips. Never before had he been like this to me, I used to consider myself lucky to have such a good man by my side, until that exact moment in which I began to realize that the only reason why he had been like that was because I had never before done anything to anger him. I was the patient Penelope, the prudent wife, the caring mother; not the woman who leaves her home. And so, after eleven years I met with my husband and his disappointment caused by my un-Penelope like decisions.
“I missed you” After he had finished I spoke, softly, through the knot which had formed on my throat, he stared at me and took a deep breath to speak again, but I wasn’t done, something bubbled inside my chest and rose to my mouth before he had the chance to reply.
“I was alone Odysseus, I waited for you and heard your stories, but you didn’t come back; there wasn’t anything left for me to do but wait, in your palace, with your family, with your servants, your son, your nursemaid and even your dog; what was left for me Odysseus? What was I to do? Would you prefer that I had waited another ten years until my hair was white and face wrinkled? No, I would not have done that, perhaps you would have rather returned to a dead wife, who took her own life because she could not wait one second more. Which one would you have preferred?”
I felt his strike harder on my pride than on my cheek, I hadn’t seen him get closer until his hand hit my face with a violence I had never seen before on him. That was the first and only time he had done that, and I remember it so vividly that I can still recall the sound of it. His face was red and nostrils swollen, teeth clenched so tightly his features sharpened.
“She made a question Odysseus, and if you don’t want me turning you into a pig and offering you to my father you will answer it and restrain yourself from ever hitting her again”
She was by my side, staring at him with her eyes shining so brightly they seemed to have been painted by sunrays. I could feel the warmth which irradiated from her, and matched the heat on my face. I used to think about the women he would meet on his journeys, I used to convince myself that I was not envious of them, that they would be slaves and if he took them to his bed it would mean nothing, but she was no slave, she was free, she was wild, as if she needed nothing, as if she was complete by herself, while I was just a part of someone else’s life.
I wonder what would have happened if I had not reached Aea and instead I had found my husband somewhere else, things would have been much different, I would have returned to Ithaca and retaken my duties as I was supposed to, perhaps have another child and spend the rest of my nights in a warmth that wouldn’t be as comfortable as it used to. He refused to let me stay as soon as she asked me to do so, but he was only able to win the fight with her once in his life and in the end, I stood on the sand and waved at the ship as I watched him go for the second time. Telemachus went with him, reluctant to leave me, but content with finally getting to be with his father, I only hope that the war has not made him tougher than he was (although the tears he shed as he held onto his son left me little doubt of his love for him). As for his love of me, I do not doubt that there was some, he’s good at lying, but I am not so naïve to mistake his attitude when we first met; but over those long ten years his heart had grown used to living without me, and so had mine, even if I held him on my mind every single second. Watching him leave was both a relief and a stab to my already wounded heart.
Living with her was easy, she was my teacher in how to be myself and for that I will be forever grateful, for the first time in all my life I had nothing to do and I could do anything I wanted at the same time. I learned what she showed me and slowly began to feel as if that half which I thought belonged to him returned to me. In a small island, lost in the Aegean sea, surrounded by wild beasts, living in the house of the sorceress, daughter of Helios. I was finally whole.
So there it is! The next one will probably come up in the next two weeks so stay tuned! 
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