Nathalie's entire body flushed an even deeper shade of red, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress into a wrinkled mess. "I—I couldn't take it in my p-pussy anymore," she stammered, her voice breaking, tears streaming down her face.
"So I—I asked him to—to put it in my a-ass instead." The words tumbled out in a rushed, shameful confession, her humiliation so palpable it filled the room.
Anya's eyes widened slightly, her professional demeanor faltering for just a moment. "Mrs. Nathalie, that's extremely dangerous," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.
"Your tissues aren't meant to handle that kind of stress, especially without preparation or lubrication. You could have been seriously injured."
Nathalie's breath hitched, her voice barely a whisper. "I know, Doctor," she admitted, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "But h-he couldn't stop. And I—I didn't want to refuse him."
