She was woken the next, was it morning? She didn’t know. There was no natural light in the place, so it was utterly impossible to tell what time it was. She felt good though, rested and clear-headed. She’d slept better than she had in a very long time in fact, the kind of sleep she only remembered getting back on the farm.
He was there. The man without a name. Sir. She didn’t know if he’d woken her up, or if it was just some incredible timing on his part. She would have believed either scenario. He was standing next to the bed, fully dressed in his dark suit with the dark shirt, a blank of a man giving nothing away.
“Breakfast time,” he said, gesturing to a tray that sat at the side of the bed. On it was a plate full of food—hash browns, eggs, and bacon. More things that reminded her of the farm. The bacon was even the thick-cut kind that was hard to get anywhere other than at a butcher’s—which no longer existed anywhere within the confines of New York City as far as she was aware.
She looked at it, hungry and yet suspicious.
“You’re not this nice,” she said under her breath. “You can’t be.”
“I never said I was nice,” he replied. “But you need to eat.”
She looked at him, saw him with freshly woken eyes. He was a very handsome man, his features strong and yet secretive. Was it possible to have secretive features? Probably not. She was just reading into him, projecting her uncertainty onto the hard lines of his masculine face. There was a hint of gray around his temples, she noticed, not nearly enough to make him look old, but enough to give him a mature expression.
“Eat,” he said, his lips quirking a little. “Not stare at me.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. Her tummy was suddenly full of butterflies.
“Hungry or not, you need to eat. Once you get some food into you, you’ll rediscover your appetite.”
She pursed her lips together and shook her head.
“One bite,” he said, his rough tone incongruously lilting. “Just one.”
A slight smile rose to her lips. She’d expected him to start ordering her around again.
“Okay,” she relented. “One bite.”
She tried the hash browns and a moan escaped her lips as the hot, crispy potato melted in her mouth. It was so good, it tasted like nostalgia and perfection all rolled up into one. The eggs were just as good, the yolk just that little bit runny, and then the bacon elevated the meal to new levels with crispy rich flavor that she savored until the very last crumb. In minutes, there was nothing left on the tray besides the glass that had once contained orange juice, and the plate upon which her breakfast repast had been displayed.
“I guess you were right,” she said, blushing a little at how much she’d eaten.
“I usually am,” he said with a wink that made her tingle all over. “Come on, we have somewhere to be.”
Tara was glad just to be leaving the little cell. She wasn’t entirely sure how much longer she could look at plain steel walls and not go mad, but the moment she saw what was in the next room, she balked. She was looking at a series of empty vials marked ‘blood sample,’ and she knew what that meant. Needles.
He made a tutting sound at her resistance and led her into the room even as her bare feet slid across the smooth floor.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. The dominant feature of the room, aside from Sir himself, was the medical chair, complete with stirrups that allowed the legs to be strapped down and spread. It had a semi-reclining back to keep the patient propped up and yet also utterly open and vulnerable to the doctor. A thousand possibilities and images zipped through her mind as she backed toward the door, only to find herself meeting the hard lines of his tall body.
“No,” she repeated, turning to try to leave. “I don’t like this.”
He did not argue with her, of course. He picked her up and carried her across to the chair, ignoring her pleas and whimpers. Once in the chair, she jumped out of it, only to be firmly put back.
“Stay,” he said, as if she were a particularly naughty puppy.
He was already putting the straps over her lower legs, fastening her in place. It was more comfortable than being tied to the stool had been, but this was far more frightening. She did not like medical procedures of any kind.
“Please let me go,” she begged as he strapped her wrists to the arms of the chair, palms up to expose the sensitive inner parts of her arm.
“Settle down,” he replied, his dark gaze capturing hers, his voice low, his cadence slow. “There’s nothing to fear. I’m going to give you an examination.”
His magnetism calmed her a little, but not entirely.
“And take blood?”
“I don’t like needles.”
“Put your head back and breathe deep, you won’t even notice.”
She very much doubted that. Of course she’d notice a piece of metal going into her vein. How could she not?
“I really don’t want…”
“We need a blood sample to ensure you’re healthy enough to undergo the rigors of this process,” he interrupted. “A full medical is required.”
“And you’re going to do it because you’re a doctor.”
Her sarcastic tone of disbelief was swiftly undercut by his dry response. “Yes.”
“So now I know two things about you,” she said. “You liked to be called sir and you’re a doctor. Allegedly.”
He smiled at her as he sat down next to her, his fingers tracing gently over the exposed skin of her arm. “Very good, my little detective,” he murmured. “And what can you deduce from that?”
She knew she was being humored, even as he went about the process of tightening a tourniquet about her arm. His hands were large, warm, and moved in a skilled way that confirmed his statement. He was certainly medically trained, and the small sting she felt barely registered as a needle until a second or two later he murmured, “Good girl, all done.”
“When you relax and do as you’re told, things aren’t as unpleasant,” he said, moving toward her feet to tighten the straps around her lower legs.
“Shhh…” he said, moving up to pass another strap over her midsection. “I need to keep you still for this next part.”
There was panic in her voice, until his eyes lifted to hers and he stilled her with a look. “Nothing I do to you now will leave a mark. Well, not for long,” he promised.
She believed him, but it was a small comfort as he strapped her down ever more securely, even going so far as to pass leather straps over her arms, and one around her neck. Within minutes she was entirely immobilized. She could just barely move a finger, and the position left her with her tender rear very firmly pressed against the not altogether soft surface.
She looked at him with desperate eyes and gasped another plea for reassurance.
“You mean it won’t hurt?”
Those dark eyes met hers again. “I didn’t say that.”
He could do terrible things with an economy of words.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to do anything. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. If you could forgive me…”
“Quiet,” he said firmly. “There’s nothing you can say now that will change what is going to happen, so save your breath and relax. The less you resist, the more pleasant this will be.”
It was not easy to see the stricken look in her eyes, to know that she was innocent and to have to treat her as guilty anyway. The first subjects he had put through this process were deserving. They were people intending on enslaving the minds and hearts of millions. They were criminals. This girl was innocent in everything but intention. She wanted to become part of a corruption she could not understand, a sickness she had been raised in from such a young age that the notion of resisting it had likely not occurred to her.
Open resistance had been squashed years earlier. The common public had no notion of it; indeed even angsty teenagers who pointed out the shackles in which they were all compelled to exist were strongly discouraged from sharing their views via a new social punishment: disconnection.
Disconnection meant having your social ID removed from all networks. You would not be able to share your short thoughts, your domestic pictures, your moments of video. You would be unable to view the thoughts and images of others. You would be, to all intents and purposes, an un-person.
Once disconnected, a person would be shunned by friends and even family. To have been disconnected was a serious shame. A short period of disconnection of a few days might be forgiven, but a longer one of several weeks or more would render a person totally incapable of operating in society. They recruited heavily from the disconnected, angry young men and women who usually took a great deal of disciplining but were highly motivated to bring down the regime that had isolated them from those they loved. The additional benefit of recruiting the disconnected was that their disappearance would not be noted.
Ms. Tanner was quite a different proposition. If she was missing when her next appointment with the selection committee was due, a search would begin. They would consider foul play, and possible defection as equal possibilities. If she were to be returned after the search was initiated, she would undergo an interrogation the likes of which would make the little he had done with her seem like a spa weekend.
He picked up a pair of scissors, and heard her let out a little frightened squeak.
“They’re for your clothes, not you,” he reassured her.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice as he put the scissors to her shorts and cut them off with quick, sure snips, then did the same to the tank top. She was still quivering in her bonds as he pulled the light fabric away from her naked form, baring her pretty body to his gaze.
Her pussy was closed, the lips forming a tight seam beneath which her inner labia and the hot little hole he could not wait to feel around his cock were hidden. The little star of her bottom was winking with contractions as she braced herself for what he had in mind.
His next order of business was to prepare her for the full examination. The soft golden curls gracing her mound would have to go.
“Hold still,” he said, producing a long blade. “I don’t want to nick you.”
“Oh god, oh god, oh… oh, what are you doing?”
She went from terrified to curious as he gelled the hair above her pussy. He restrained a chuckle at her rather adorable overreaction and subsequent confusion. She really didn’t know what to do as he lathered her sex with a gentle rubbing motion, stimulating her lower lips, little gasps and proto-moans escaping her mouth as she wriggled as far as she could.
“You really do need to stay still,” he said. “The blade is sharp.”
She took a deep breath and held it as she became still as a stone.
“But you can breathe. I encourage it. We don’t want you fainting.”
He waited until she was actually breathing again, short shallow breaths that weren’t ideal, but would at least keep her conscious. He held off with the blade for a while longer, gently massaging her lower lips, the gel softening the curls as she settled down a little and came to accept her bonds. They were a luxury, though she didn’t yet know it. Soon she would be without them, and the excuse to submit that they provided.
It felt so good. The fear was still coursing through her veins, but Sir’s touch was mitigating much of that fear, or perhaps drawing on it, turning it from something to shy away from to something to run towards. Not that she could move at all, she was utterly trapped as the commanding man between her thighs once more began the slow process of addling her mind with his touch.
The cream was warming against her skin, and that warmth began to travel through her body, settling low in her belly before spreading further throughout her, relaxing and exciting her all at once. Being strapped down was still intimidating, and the reality of her vulnerability had never been so plainly felt.
The cool edge of the razor slid slowly across her mound, scraping the cream and hair away, leaving smooth glistening skin behind. She could see skin she hadn’t seen in years, the line of the razor leaving new territory in its wake.
“Why?” The question escaped her lips in a soft moan.
“I need full access to this area,” he replied, his fingers moving down her lips ahead of the blade. “The hair only gets in the way.”
She watched, wide-eyed, as he pushed the stirrups apart to get the down that covered her pussy lips too.
Like everything he had done, it was incredibly intimate, especially when he put pressure here and there on her outer lips to stretch them and make the blade move more smoothly over the delicate skin. She had a vague thought that she should be complaining more, but the sensation was not entirely unpleasant and it wasn’t as if he’d stop simply because she asked him to. He had taken total control of her body and she had given it to him by merit of her compliance.
He finished the treatment with a warm, wet cloth that wiped away all traces of cream and hair and left her with a smooth pussy. She blushed as his eyes roamed her lower lips. Though she was more vulnerable than ever, it didn’t take a shaved pussy for her to feel that way; he looked at every part of her in a way no man ever had. He paid incredible attention to her and when she was with him she felt as though she didn’t take so much as a breath without him noticing.
The expression on his face was hard to read. Was he aroused? Did he find her attractive? Surely he must to be doing such things to her. Or perhaps not. Whatever he was doing had some kind of agenda to it. She was a pawn in his plan, she could sense that. So perhaps she could not trust him or his expressions.
The moments stretched into minutes as he observed her with a care and attention accompanied with a gentle stroking motion up and down her soft bare lips. She relaxed a little, her eyes closing as she submitted to the sensations, the careful and slow, nearly hypnotic caressing of her sex.
She was no longer entirely aware of the passing of time. She was in some kind of altered pleasure surrender state where time did not matter. Nothing mattered but him. His touch.
Slowly he spread her lower lips, her wetness allowing him to spread them easily, rubbing one side then the other between his fingertips. He was touching each and every part of her pussy, tracing her inner lips with their little folds and parting them too until she could feel the cool air of the room directly against the entrance.
Tara held her breath, waiting to feel him touch her there, dip inside her, but he didn’t. Instead he rose from between her thighs, leaving her bereft of his examination as he moved back up her body and clipped a blood pressure and heart rate sensor on one of her fingers. It was followed by the placement of two sensors, which he stuck to her skin with little adhesive pads, one between her breasts and one just above her mound. The slow circling of his fingertip around the circular sticky pad was a fresh pleasure.
He was seducing her, slowly and carefully and methodically he was lulling her into a state where arousal could flourish in the absence of stress. The bonds that had at first frightened her now felt snug and even comfortable, much as the tight blankets had when he’d tucked her into bed. Had that been some subtle preparations for this moment? That would be a Machiavellian level of planning, but she sensed he was more than capable of such a thing. He was keenly intelligent and devilishly calm and there was intent in his eyes always.
“You’re thinking again,” he said, his voice soft and gravelly.
“How can you tell?”
“Your eyes,” he said with a hint of a smile. “They betray you in a thousand ways.”
His fingers slid back between her thighs as he stood next to her, looking down into her face as he toyed gently with her wet pussy.
She closed her eyes and he let out a light chuckle, tapping her pussy with a sharp little slap. “You can’t hide from me that way either.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head as she opened her eyes. “And you shouldn’t want to. It’s good for me to know you. It will make everything better for you in the end. So relax and try to let the thoughts just flow through your mind. Don’t hold onto them, just let them go as they come.”
With that he left her side and went to sit between her thighs. It was much harder for her to see him there, strapped as she was to the medical bed. Without being able to see him, she started to get nervous all over again. What was happening? Why was he doing this? What was… bzzzzzzzz…
Something rubbery and incredibly vibrate-y made contact with her pussy, just above her clit and just below the sensor. It sent reverberations through her flesh, distracting her from her growing concern with a strong sensation that gripped her attention.
Slowly it drew down over her pussy, passing over her clit for a moment, which tore a gasp from her lips. It was only a brief touch, but the bolt of pleasure that shot through her was electrifying, making her toes curl in the stirrups. The vibrator passed lower, the thick head of the thing covering both her lips quite easily, touching inner and outer lips at the same time.
She was a smart little thing. She could be so submissive, but she never stopped trying to puzzle out the situation and that was dangerous as far as Mark was concerned. The vibrating wand seemed to have captured her attention quite nicely though, the line of muscle down her midsection contracting as she tried to draw her legs up and spread her pussy more.
Off to the side was a display reading out a series of measurements: her heart rate and blood pressure along with her respiration and a general nervous response. Once it was calibrated, he would be able to tell the precise moment when she reached orgasm. Over time, he could develop a set of stimulations that would bring her to orgasm without fail each and every time. He’d have total control of her sexual response, and he could use that to condition her mind.
At the moment, it was a matter of experimentation and gathering data. No woman was quite the same as any other, all physiology was unique. She had a very pretty pussy, her lips full and sensual, quick to bloom with stimulation. Her inner lips were delicate and adorable, ever so slightly longer than the outer ones so that she looked like a flower about to bloom. Her clit was set high and was eager to come out from the hood, not quite as large as some, but not tiny either, and certainly receptive to stimulation.
He grazed the wand up and down her pussy, teasing her lips to their full arousal. They were quickly becoming puffy and wet with her dew. He teased her with a practiced touch, watching the readings on the monitor as her heartbeat spiked, her respiration rate rising in tune. This was erotic, but it was also scientific. She was showing all the signs of coming close to orgasm, a blush making itself evident across her breasts and neck, all the way to her face as she let out a moaning whine, lifting her pussy to the rod as much as she could within her bonds, and… he moved the vibrating probe away. Almost instantly, her numbers started to fall, accompanied by a plaintive whine. She didn’t like being denied her orgasm. The expression on her face was priceless, a blushing pout that made him want to give her what she wanted over and over again.
So much for being his captive. The bonds meant almost nothing to her. She wanted everything that was happening to her, was on the borderline of begging for more, if he read that little tremor in her lips correctly.
He moved the probe back down, running the tip of it around her lubricated, glistening clit, circling wide enough that no direct contact was made, but he knew the vibrations of the probe would be traveling through to that hungry little bud. He watched as an expression of satisfaction crossed her pretty face, her head falling back as she tried to arch toward the probe again. Her restraints meant that the effort was futile, but that didn’t stop her from grinding and gyrating as much as she could. He’d have to adjust the strapping he’d used so she didn’t rub herself to blisters beneath it.
Soon she was on the verge of climax again, little pants and moans escaping her sweet mouth as he ran the probe up and down her pussy, still not quite penetrating her. He pressed the flared tip of it between her inner lips, staying just outside her sex.
“Yesss…” Her moan was soft, but entirely audible.
He pressed it forward just a fraction, barely penetrating her before pulling it free again and returning to torment her clit. She started to writhe and moan all the more, tugging and straining at her ties, so close to coming… so close…
Just as the arousal reached a fever-pitched peak, the vibrating tool moved away and she was left with her pussy aching and utterly unsatisfied.
“Please…” she whimpered, her eyes meeting his. “Please let me…”
She writhed against the bonds, her body screaming out for release that simply could not come.
“Breathe,” he said.
“Oh, go to hell! Let me come! Ow!” The last part followed a swift punitive slap to her pussy.
“You won’t come by making demands of me,” he lectured her sternly as she scowled at him, thoroughly frustrated by his refusal to give her release.
As much as the erotic torment appeared to be for his amusement, it served a very real purpose. Her capacity for pleasure and climax had to be measured. Once he knew what her baseline was, he would later be able to take her to that place and even push her beyond it, giving her experiences of such unparalleled intensity that they would be forever branded into her brain, cementing his place deep inside her mind whether she was aware of it or not.
This man was merciless. Tara was sure she was going to go out of her mind if she didn’t come soon. Her pussy was on fire, her inner muscles aching with desire. She needed to be fucked. She needed to feel him, it, something inside her. She needed to come, goddammit. Her clit was tingling and her pussy was swollen and she knew that all it would take was just the slightest little bit of sensation to send her over the edge—but he seemed to know that too.
“Please, sir,” she whimpered. “Please, I need to… I have to… I need to come.”
“You want me to make you come, Tara?” His voice was low and intimate, the tool in his hand poised near her pussy. Her lips were stinging from the slap, but she didn’t care, she wanted him to push it inside her, fuck her. Hell, she wanted him to ravage her, his hard hot cock deep inside her. She licked her lips, remembering how it was to have him in her mouth.
She had lost all sense of what was proper and what wasn’t. She was a cock-hungry slut, desperate for the release only he could give. She didn’t recognize herself anymore, only the need that was consuming her.
“Yes, please, sir, please…”
He pushed the vibrator inside her with one long, slow thrust, spreading her inner lips and delving deep inside her cunt, opening her wide. She let out a cry of pure pleasure as finally her pussy got what it needed, something long and thick and hard.
His fingers descended on her clit, slapping it lightly as the tool vibrated inside her, driving her instantly over the edge with an orgasm of such intensity she felt as though some deep part of her had just been forever destroyed. She’d broken through a barrier she hadn’t known was there, a sensation of shattering and flying and then a freedom and a pleasure that suffused her in a warm glow. She was floating, content and complete. She was still strapped down, her legs spread, her pussy filled, a prisoner to a man whose name she did not know, and yet, somehow, she was more free than she had ever been.
At some outer edge of consciousness, she was aware of the straps loosening, of being picked up and carried back to the room where they had first met, settled on the bed. She felt warm and fuzzy and faint and yet somehow strong, as if she were both further away from herself and yet more herself than ever before. Did that make sense? She didn’t know. She curled up underneath the blanket he draped over her sexhausted form, and just as she was drifting to sleep, she was almost certain she felt his lips on her temple.
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