“What are you going to teach me?” El tried desperately to make her voice sound flat, but even before she heard the way the words emerged from her mouth, she knew she would fail utterly in that attempt.
Maddeningly, he seemed to change the subject. This Dr. Fitzgerald never interrupted her, and he never truly insulted her, but his absolute mastery of every conversation really got on El’s nerves: he made it completely clear that the topic he wanted discussed would occupy her attention as well, for as long as he thought it appropriate. El had thought Relman the first worthy conversational partner she had ever had, but though Relman clearly possessed great intelligence, Dr. Fitzgerald, it seemed undeniable, had not only a brilliant mind but a very well-ordered one. He projected a sort of definitive certainty that he knew what mattered and, to El’s distress, he seemed to be able to make his conversational partner agree with that judgment.
It didn’t help that the subject to which he changed held such embarrassment for El, either.
“How often do you masturbate, Eliana?”
She had no idea why a life that she tried to view as completely shameless should contain this one small shame. Whether her embarrassment about the subject had kept her from anticipating this kind of attack on her attitudes or she had simply not thought of the possibility that Dr. Fitzgerald might be right that he could use her sexuality to affect the way she thought about things, the idea that she would have to touch herself in front of him now, or be whipped, sent a blazing heat to her face. To be asked about it—to have to tell him about it—seemed even worse.
“Answer me, young lady,” the doctor said, a little more sternly. “It’s a simple, factual question.” Over the length of her naked body he looked into her eyes, his unwavering blue stare not acknowledging that he must surely know that the question was not simple even if it were factual.
Why could she never touch herself down there without feeling that she was doing something wrong? Nothing at home or at school had ever indicated that to do so was unhealthy or immoral, but El never seemed to be able either to stop herself from doing it or to convince herself that there was nothing wrong with doing it. Nor had she ever figured out why, because she didn’t even like to think about the matter at all.
Hardly the best possible way for El the Outlaw to consider the way she lived, but why should she ever have to deal with it? It was a tiny part of her life, after all…
“Once a month,” she said resolutely.
Dr. Fitzgerald smiled. “Please don’t lie to me, Eliana.” He glanced down between her legs and then back up into El’s face, as if to say that he had some way to tell just from looking at her pussy that she must play with it much more often than that. Well, that was the thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t ‘play’ with it, did she?
“I’m not lying,” she said, using the little impasse to bring back her flatness, and pushing away the shame as she realized he’d never be able to figure out the embarrassing secret of her self-pleasure.
“Eliana,” he said, “you were observed crossing your legs quite frequently when you were awaiting trial. It’s in your file.”
The renewal of the shame seemed to sweep over her like a burning wave, so strong that she suddenly felt a little sick to her stomach and started instinctively to move away from him, up the table. She lifted her right foot from the stirrup. But the doctor simply grabbed her right knee and returned her to the position where he wanted her.
El wanted terribly to be able to pretend she didn’t care the slightest bit about anything Dr. Fitzgerald said, but how could she pretend about this topic? Desperately, she said, “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Women cross their legs, don’t they? Have the elites outlawed that, now? I wish someone had told me.”
His face became more patient and less stern. When I show emotion, she suddenly realized, he treats me kindly. Dangerous. How could she resist that? It didn’t matter how vigilant she could be about it: El knew enough about psychology to see that her unconscious emotions would favor his sick brainwashing plan.
“The sort of leg-crossing behavior you exhibited, Eliana, is well known in medical research to be a highly pleasurable form of masturbation for those who practice it. From what was observed, you masturbate that way at least twice a day, which is quite normal for a girl who can reach orgasm by squeezing her clitoris between her thighs the way you can.” He paused, looking into her eyes, as if inviting her to deny it, but El’s mouth had gone dry. How had she been stupid enough to think she was the only girl in history to discover the secret way to play with herself? Did that have something to do with the shame she felt about it? “What I’m going to teach you now, Eliana, is a new way to play with yourself: you’re going to reach orgasm for me using your fingers and, if necessary, one of the devices I have here in my special drawer.”
“Devices?” El whispered.
Dr. Fitzgerald reached down and she heard a drawer open, and then he raised into her field of vision a long device that seemed to have a sort of knob at the end. “It’s an old, old device, now,” he said, reaching out to bring it over her belly so she could see that the surface of the knob was pebbled, a little, and attached to the long part by a little rod, “and in this form, without any of the attachments I have in my drawer, very simple. No one’s ever designed anything more effective, though.”
Eliana felt her brow furrow. She had no real idea what he was talking about, but the notion that one might use a device to do… that—the same thing that she did, yes, at least twice a day by crossing her legs and squeezing, and squeezing, and squeezing, until she had come at least twice—made her blush go and on. The heat in her face only got worse when the doctor flipped a switch on the thing, and suddenly the knob started to shake and buzz. Did he mean that you would put it… that… down there?
He flipped the switch again and took the thing away. El heard him return it to the drawer, and then Dr. Fitzgerald looked up at her again. “Put your right hand between your legs, now, Eliana. Please begin by rubbing your clitoris with your middle finger. Very gently to start off with. It will feel strange to you, as it seems to do for girls who are used to pleasuring themselves the way you have. Go ahead and do that for me.”
“But…” El didn’t even know what she wanted to say. But that’s not how I do it? Hadn’t he just said that he knew that? Something in her rebelled against his order more strongly than she had felt her mind resist him before. Up until then, she had simply resented the necessity of having to go through these strange motions. Of course she had hated the nakedness, the whipping, the spanking, and the paddling, but her mind hadn’t pushed against them this way. Those things were just a version of that stupid lie called Justice, put into the strange, perverse form that this Dr. Fitzgerald had decided to give them.
This command, though, seemed very different. He had touched her pussy there in the foyer, after spanking her, as if to demonstrate that El’s arousal was at his command. She hadn’t liked knowing that, but she had thought, Yes, fine, you can do that to me. The people with power can do that stuff. But the idea that she must give herself pleasure when he instructed her to do so, and—more important—that she must do it in the way he instructed, so that he could observe and perhaps (El swallowed involuntarily as this occurred to her) participate… El didn’t know if it really did go beyond power somehow, or if it merely represented power in some sort of pure form.
At any rate, she didn’t get to finish whatever she would have said, because her voice trailed off as she looked into the doctor’s face, which seemed more threatening even than it might have been if he had said, No buts, Eliana. To have her own thoughts fail her in the face of his instruction and his steady, assessing gaze made her think that he had somehow gotten inside the house of her mind while she hadn’t even noticed she had left some door or window open.
Her mouth stayed open, even though no further words came out, and she breathed through it rapidly in terrified shame. How could she… But his eyes told her how. She must do it, because she could see in his face that he knew so much better than she did how she could learn to live well. She could see that as strange as his method might be, he meant it for her good. She could see that he would not take no for an answer, when it came to taking charge of her and teaching her; when it came to bending Eliana Wildwood to his will.
“Hand between your legs, now, Eliana,” he said softly.
Eliana lifted her right hand from where it lay next to her hip on the exam table. It felt heavy, but she moved it anyway. Did the hand even belong to her, when this medical version of justice had ordered that she use it on herself in a shameful way that she had never touched herself before?
She tried to pretend that the doctor was the one moving the hand, but she failed again, her intelligence conquered by his: it was Eliana’s hand. Eliana watched Eliana’s hand go there, disappear down there where she couldn’t see it, but oh, she could feel it. And then Eliana had started to rub, and she gave a little sob and couldn’t stop.
But then El realized that somehow the girl who played with herself wasn’t El the Outlaw, and she realized with a strange thrill of sarcastic triumph that El the Outlaw had nevertheless survived, flat expression, flat voice, and all. Even if Eliana couldn’t be El all the time, when she had thoroughly fooled Dr. Fitzgerald into thinking Eliana Wildwood represented the ultimate success of his theories about criminal psychology, El the Outlaw would return to ride off into the sunset and the free, wild life she had earned, outside.
All that came to her in a flash, even as she felt her nervous system give itself over to the delicate rubbing of her middle finger right on her clitoris.
She closed her eyes, and Dr. Fitzgerald’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Did Prender stimulate your clitoris often, Eliana?”
Why would he ask that? Why did he ask, or command, any of the strange things he seemed intent on winning from her either in the form of words or of deeds? With the pleasure radiating from her clit, Eliana felt at that moment that she didn’t care. Why not simply put herself in his power, if his method involved letting her play with herself shamelessly on his exam table?
“No,” she breathed.
“What sort of a partner was he, in those beds in other people’s homes?”
She felt her finger pause as she tried to formulate an answer.
“No, keep going. Please add another finger on your clitoris, and then begin to stroke your labia. Just concentrate on that for a few moments, and let your answer to my question come when it wants to.”
His voice sounded so gentle, now. She had the strange impression that even though the fingers that touched her pussy were hers, playing in the curly hair there that El the Outlaw kept trimmed down—not bare, the way Relman’s custody girls had to keep their pussies with once-a-week waxings, but neat and tidy—that they were really Dr. Fitzgerald’s fingers, caressing her deliciously there, in a way that neither Prender nor Relman had done. Indeed, even El herself had never touched her own pussy that way before.
She obeyed, running the two fingers up and down and not even minding the whimpering sound that came from her chest at the feeling. When she squeezed herself between her thighs she never made a sound, because that would let other people know what she was doing. Other people. There was something in that… something she had an inkling Dr. Samuel Fitzgerald wanted to bring out. For that reason, Eliana thought, she should resist it, shouldn’t she? But how could she resist anything, when she was masturbating while he sat there on his stool, watching exactly how her fingers made the warmth and wetness come into the pussy that seemed to ache so greatly for more pleasure that it stole her wits away?
Sam couldn’t suppress the little smile that came to his lips as he watched the wonderfully lewd conduct of Eliana Wildwood on his exam table. He hadn’t won the war for her reformation, of course: that would require many more such victories as this one. But to bring her to touch herself with such evident wantonness and pleasure represented a very promising real beginning of the campaign to use Eliana’s sexuality to change her attitudes toward her place in society, and the behaviors that followed from them.
“H-he wasn’t a very good… lover… I suppose, but…” Her fingers stroked up and down, rubbed her clitoris more firmly. Her breathing indicated that she was definitely headed for orgasm, which Sam found a little surprising: girls who used the thigh-squeezing technique tended to have trouble with other kinds of self-pleasure, the research showed.
“But the thrill of the crime aroused you?” Her eyes flew open, and she looked at him with wide eyes. Her fingers kept moving, though, and Sam could see that her vaginal moisture had grown copious: the more she rubbed it up and down her inner lips, the more there seemed to be. Eliana gave a little gasp, perhaps at the memory of a particular occasion with her boyfriend.
“You thought to yourself, ‘I’m a naughty girl, and I didn’t get caught.’ You masturbated with your thigh squeezing while you looked around for things to take.” Yes, it was a guess, but Sam couldn’t see how it could be wrong.
Eliana’s eyes got even wider, and she nodded again.
“Take your hand away from your vagina, Eliana,” Sam said sternly, standing up.
She swallowed visibly, and her hand froze in its lascivious work between her thighs.
“Wh-what? Why?” Her voice had an appealing pleading quality that Sam found quite satisfactory.
“It’s time for me to examine you, and then have intercourse with you. As I said before, I’m going to teach you something about yourself, and here’s what I’m going to teach you: more pleasure comes within the law than outside it.”
Her brow furrowed deeply. “I… I don’t understand,” she said. Sam knew she told the truth, but he could also see in her face that an inkling of his meaning had reached her.
“I know,” he said. “But you will. Now take that naughty hand away before I have to whip you for disobedience.”
Eliana gasped, and Sam saw her labia minora give a fluttering little contraction. Yes, she definitely could understand. She lifted her hand from her vulva and, with a jerk, moved it up her body, as if uncertain where to put it. The hand finally came to rest on her breastbone as she kept her gaze fixed on Sam’s eyes.
Sam’s handheld beeped, and he glanced over to where he had put it on the counter. When he looked back, he saw that Eliana’s fingers had helplessly strayed back to her clit, where they had begun to rub frantically, as if she could bring herself to orgasm quickly before he had turned back to see. Sam stood up instantly, looking into her eyes as he unbuckled his belt.
Her hand flew away again, and her eyes widened. “Oh, no…” she said. “Please, I—I couldn’t help it!”
“I don’t care, Eliana. I told you not to do it, and you did it.” He doubled the belt and wrapped it around his fist.
Sam almost wished he didn’t have to whip her, since her voice betrayed the beginnings of such submission, but not to carry through on the threat would be foolish. Silently, he took her feet out of the stirrups and turned her over on the table so that he had access to her bottom, and then he laid his hand atop her waist slightly to steady her, since she had begun to squirm.
He brought the belt down, not very hard but forcefully enough to make her cry out, once, twice, three times on her left cheek, and then the same number on her right. With her bottom still sore from her previous punishments, the belt-whipping made her eyes water as she made little mewling cries of discomfort.
“There,” Sam said, putting his belt back on. “That’s what happens when naughty girls pleasure themselves without permission.”
Eliana nodded as she turned over and placed her feet back in the stirrups. Then she looked unwaveringly into his eyes, biting her lip and holding her hands to her chest now, as if to show him how obedient he had made her.
He didn’t let his own eyes waver either as he stood up and walked a step to the sink. As he went through the mechanical ritual of washing his hands, he said, “In a few moments, I’ll begin the examination. I want you to understand that as the man who has paid your custody fee, when I touch your sexual organs I’m going to be touching them as the representative of justice and law, as well as of science. Even more important, when I touch you in those places, and even when I stimulate them, I will do it to produce results that will benefit you personally, Eliana, as well as the community whose trust I’m sure you can earn back.”
The puzzlement grew on her face, but Sam stepped quickly back to his stool and sat on it. He held her gaze for a moment more, telling her with his eyes that his authority as her physician, as her custodian, and as a researcher now determined his actions.
Her frown in return was anything but dull, and Sam realized suddenly that something about the new version of Eliana Wildwood whom he had begun to uncover appealed immensely to him as a man. He had suspected when he first read through her file that Eliana had a sweet, even a charming, girl inside. Her employer at Treasury had been thoroughly enchanted with her and her performance as an administrative assistant—the one time in Eliana’s life when she had truly had a chance to show herself a capable member of society.
There was no question but that she was very attractive physically, with her black tresses, her pert breasts, and her slim hips; Sam had known from the beginning that he would have no trouble carrying out the essential—if controversial—‘personal domination’ parts of the protocol, the first of which he would now enact. He had not expected, though, to be attracted to her not just physically but also personally, and he would have to push that feeling back, for the sake of his results and her welfare. In order that she might understand herself, Eliana needed to be dominated with caring attention to her future happiness, but without a romantic love that would inevitably have in it a component of selfishness. Sam must reform Eliana for society, not for himself, even should he finally fall in love with her.
He dropped his eyes to the view between her thighs. He put out his right hand, and Eliana drew a sharp breath before his fingers even touched her there. He laid three fingers on her clitoris, and she gave a moaning little whimper.
“I need to palpate you here to measure your engorgement and your arousal,” Sam said, glancing up into her face for a moment and then back down. He began to rub firmly.
“Oh, powers,” Eliana whispered. Sam noted with satisfaction the call to the supernatural. The ancient idea of religion had mostly departed human civilization, but the notion that there were powers who watched people’s actions remained important as a subconscious part of community ethics. The more Eliana understood herself to be beholden to others, human or divine, the greater her chances of future happiness.
“You’re still very aroused, Eliana,” Sam said. “That’s good, and it’s as it should be.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
“Because the protocol I’m using to treat you depends on your arousal. You’re used to bringing yourself to orgasm. Here in my house, and my laboratory, you won’t be allowed to do that.”
Sam could hear not only outrage in her tone but also further erotic excitement. Perfect.
He didn’t answer for a moment, but instead reached down with his left hand to get the vibrator out of the drawer. He moved the fingers of his right hand to Eliana’s labia and perineum, massaging gently there. He flipped the switch on the vibrator, and its buzzing filled the room.
Eliana again whispered, “Oh, powers” in and among her quick, shallow breaths.
“By controlling your sexual pleasure, Eliana, I teach you to be a good girl, not to put too fine a point on it. I teach you to be a good girl for me, and for your society. By punishing you if you masturbate without permission, I teach you that the good things our community can provide to you are worth waiting for, and that if we don’t wait for them, we suffer consequences we don’t enjoy.”
He looked up into her eyes as he applied the vibrating knob to her clitoris for the first time. She gasped, and gave a whining moan of extreme pleasure, then another.
“Now, let’s say you stole my magic wand,” Sam continued conversationally, feeling her vagina contract against the fingers of his right hand, “and used it on yourself.”
All Eliana’s muscles had started to tense, and her hips began to make the adorable bucking motion of a girl who can’t get enough of the tormenting pleasure she receives. Her eyes had shut tightly, and now he could definitely see the flush of arousal under her tanned skin.
“After today,” Sam said, suddenly flipping the switch on the vibrator to Off and removing his hand, “you would understand at a deep level you can’t even express that you had done something naughty.”
“P-please…” Eliana sighed, opening her eyes and looking imploringly at him.
Sam didn’t reply; instead he got a clear plastic speculum from the top drawer, inserted it in her vagina, and gently opened it. A whining, frustrated sound came from Eliana’s throat.
He did need to conduct a pelvic exam, of course, but the way he now conducted it had huge importance in the protocol, as he connected himself, medicine, law, and pleasure in her imagination to deliver the essential message: I can control your sexuality, and I will take care of you and make you feel wonderful, if you behave yourself.
He peered inside the reddened, swollen passage of her vagina for a few moments, with the help of a pen-light. “That looks just fine,” he said.
Becoming entirely clinical, then, he withdrew the speculum from Eliana’s vagina and put some lubricant on it. His attention fixed on his task and her well-spread thighs, and now, turning to the tiny dimple of her anus that lay fully exposed and ready for inspection, he said in a disinterested tone, “Tell me about your history where anal sex is concerned. Did either of your partners penetrate you here, where I’m examining you now?”
At the same moment he finished speaking, he put the speculum to her wrinkly brown sphincter, and began to urge it gently into her rectum. She tensed, of course, and Sam didn’t push further for the moment.
“Just relax, Eliana. You’re going to have to learn to open nice and wide here. Anal discipline and training constitute a very important part of my dominance protocol. We’ll take it slow, though, since you’re being such a good girl for me. Why don’t you answer my question, for starters?”
“N-no,” Eliana said. “Mr. Relman wanted to… once. He… he had me watch him do it with one of his custody girls.”
Whoa. Sam kept himself from reacting. He hadn’t expected this kind of complication in her sexual history. Relman was known as a sybarite, of course, and sexual relations with custody girls were standard for elites, but the kind of exhibitionism and group sex at which Eliana had just hinted seemed well beyond the norm. Sam would have to unfold that part of Eliana’s history carefully, paying special attention to the extent, if any, to which Relman had dominated her.
“But you didn’t have anal sex with him?” He looked up into her eyes, the closed tip of the well-lubed speculum still just inside her little anus. He pushed on it just a bit, and she tightened even more, her eyes widening as she shook her head in response to the question.
“I’m not sure he really wanted to do it with me as much as he wanted to make me watch him do with Candace—that’s the custody girl.”
Sam nodded. “That’s pretty perceptive, Eliana. I imagine you’re right.” He pushed again, gently, on the speculum. “Try to relax, now. You know how to open your bottom already. You just have to learn to do it when I tell you to, whether it’s for my speculum, or a disciplinary device, or for my penis, when the times comes for me to dominate you that way.”
He pushed more firmly, so as not to give her time to think too much about what he’d just said. A little grunt came from Eliana’s chest, and then a gasping whimper. “Relax and let your anus do what it knows how to do, now,” he said softly. Her bottom surged, and she opened her rectum at last. “Good girl,” Sam said, as he pushed the speculum inside and squeezed the handles to open it.
Eliana gave a little sob, deep in her throat, as if at the intensity of the feeling.
“See?” Sam said conversationally. “I wonder if you’ve ever felt so open. While I examine you, I want you to think about what it means to trust me to know when pleasure is an appropriate thing for you, and to give it you on those occasions.” He used his pen-light for just a moment to make sure everything was as it should be inside her anus. Then he withdrew the speculum and set it aside. Eliana gave a little moan of relief. Her face had turned very red, and there were beads of sweat on her brow, her eyes still shut.
When Sam stood up and unbuckled his belt, letting pants and briefs fall to the floor, those brown eyes flew open, though. “Wh-what are you doing?” Eliana asked.
“I told you,” Sam said, “that I would have intercourse with you. That’s what’s going to happen now.” He took his hard cock in his left hand and put its head at the entrance to Eliana’s well-lubricated vagina. With the fingertips of his right hand he stimulated her clitoris so that she panted with returning arousal.
“Powers…” she said.
“I’ll need to take the full history of your relations with Mr. Relman, but since he’s not a physician I’m reasonably sure you’ve never had the sort of pleasurable coitus you’ll have with me, when I choose to pleasure you while we have sex.” He thrust gently inward, then, rubbing her clitoris at the same time. Eliana gave a long, low moan as Sam started his sexual rhythm.
“You may climax now,” he said, putting his left hand on her hip and never ceasing the clitoral stimulation with his right. Sex in the stirrups was valuable to the protocol for several reasons, the disciplinary perhaps the most important among them, but it also allowed the physician to provide a great deal more direct pleasure through a steady rhythm of his fingers on the subject’s most nerve-ending–laden sex organ. That rhythm would link the feeling of a having a dominant man’s penis inside her with exquisite pleasure deep in Eliana’s mind.
“There now,” Sam said, feeling the tension in her body and listening to the pace of her breathing increase as she neared orgasm. “Isn’t that nicer than squeezing your thighs together?”
Yes. He had timed it correctly: Eliana started to climax just as he spoke.
Before he had received the hint of the complexity of her relationship with Relman, the crural pressure auto-eroticism had been the most interesting part of Eliana’s case, from a sexual point of view. Girls who practiced the technique tended to feel an unconscious need to see themselves as more autonomous than conduced well with living in society. It probably made no sense to try to trace her criminality to her masturbatory habits, but the two were certainly in harmony, in Sam’s mind, and controlling Eliana’s self-pleasure must form a part of the protocol.
Now, as he thrust harder and harder into a vagina that contracted deliciously around the shaft of his penis as he moved inside it, she cried out loudly and arched her back. For a long moment she remained motionless, while the penis kept up its rhythm. The highly erotic sight brought on Sam’s own orgasm, and as Eliana fell back onto the table, looking up at him with wide eyes, he held himself deep inside her as his semen, rendered temporarily infertile by a monthly injection, pulsed out deep into Eliana’s cervix.
He smiled down into her eyes: Eliana’s expression seemed troubled, but not dull. For a brief moment he thought he saw an answering smile try to break out on her lips, but then it disappeared.
Breaking eye contact, Sam withdrew from her, and raised his briefs and pants. He buckled his belt, sat down again on the stool. He looked again at Eliana, who had closed her eyes, the troubled expression still on her face.
“Can you answer my question?” he asked softly. “Was it nicer, Eliana?”
Her eyes flew open. She seemed to struggle with herself for a long moment, and then the dull expression did return at last. “Sure,” she said. “Definitely.”
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