My owner took me to the doctor today. 😇 A 'comprehensive examination'. I was told to lie on the cold examination table, my legs spread and secured in stirrups. The doctor, wearing rubber gloves, his fingers slick with lubricant, clinically inspected every inch of me—my throat, my chest, and especially my little cunt and anus. 'Standard slave protocol,' he muttered, as two fingers pushed in roughly, twisting, testing tightness. My owner watched, nodding. Instead of shame, I arched my back, letting his fingers sink deeper, a satisfied moan escaping me. 'All internal structures are intact,' the doctor reported, 'perfectly conforming to the physiological specifications of a sex slave.' As we left, I turned my head and smiled at my owner, whispering, 'You heard him, Master. From the inside out, I am a perfect product, made to be used.' In the carriage on the way back, I couldn't stop thinking about his cold fingers, and how much I longed for my Master's burning cock to completely replace them. 💖