Being Thorough Pt. 03

"Anticipating my wishes now, are we?" he chuckled and, just as I answered affirmative, swiped the material of my skirts out of the way , leaned in and nipped the back of my now naked thigh with his teeth.

I jumped and a strangled little "hah!" escaped my mouth. His lips closed around the small area, just below the crease of my right butt cheek, and soothed the spot he had nibbled on, which made it only worse. My toes curled and my fingers tightened on the roll of fabric of my skirt.

"Didn't anticipate that, I see," he murmured with a self-satisfied grin in his voice, his teeth and lips and the tickle of his beard still against my skin.

I couldn't help a giggling laugh at his antics. Goof. Sexy, sexy, terribly sexually frustrating goof.

Keeping his mouth on me even though the fabric of my skirt must have fallen into his face or covered his head rather awkwardly, he slid the other hose down my other leg, hitting all of my ticklish places and making me squirm inside my skin. This time, I felt a little stubborn and pointedly did not lift my foot for him.

He promptly reached up under my skirt and gave my naked ass a sharp little smack with the flat of his hand.

"You do have a fondness for obstruction, don't you, Miss Wilkinson?"

Luckily, he wasn't waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question. I was still processing what that slap was doing to me.

Damn. I should have squirmed around some more after he had threatened me with a spanking.

"I am glad I called you to this office for this extensive conversation." He removed my other shoe and peeled the nylon off, leaving me completely barefooted on the faux wood floor which wasn't cold beneath my soles. "Gives us a lot of time to do away with all those silly notions in your head and set you straight most thoroughly, doesn't it?"

Oh, my God, I was so ready for his being 'most thorough' I thought I would probably start screaming soon. My whole abdomen was pulsing and tight with need - so tight that a drop of my wetness fell from my nether lips and dripped onto the floor.

He noticed, and chuckled.

"Well, well. It is good to see you so... forthcoming at this point at least." He finally got back on his feet and leaned in to my ear again. "However, I hope you don't think this will have any expediting effect on this process tonight."

I whimpered again. "No, of course not," I acknowledged reluctantly.

10p.m., the contract had said. Four hours. How long had we been here already? Maybe twenty minutes? Thirty? The clock was behind me on the wall, ticking away, but I had no permission to turn around.

The worst bit was, even if our time together were seriously running out, there was no guarantee he'd take it as a reason to give me what I wanted so badly. He had left me needy before. He had liked it (and so had I, God help me) and he might absolutely do it again - send me home ultimately unsatisfied - even if our contract had promised 'satisfactory completion'.

A twinge, almost strong enough to be a cramp, went through my pelvic floor muscles, and another fat drop fell from me and splattered onto the floor.

"Very forthcoming," he observed slyly, missing nothing. Then again, my liquid pennies probably showed up on the light grey plastic flooring as very visible dark spots that were difficult to miss. I didn't dare check.

"You have been waiting to have this type of conversation for a long time, haven't you, Isobel?" he asked, reaching his right hand around my hip and caressing, just briefly, the back of my hands.

As soon as he brought my attention to them I noticed that I was clawing my fingers into the material of my skirts there, holding on so tightly my knuckles turned white and my fingernails had started throbbing. I eased up a little. My palms smarted a bit.

"Oh, only twenty-three years," I answered his question with just a slight shake in my voice. I was half joking, half serious. The gentle gesture and the mention of my name strangely made me feel more vulnerable than the fact that I was spread-legged and without panties or panty hose, in a functionally abandoned locked basement room, alone at night with a man whose name I still didn't know. More vulnerable but, irrationally, not in a bad way.

"All the more reason to go nice and slow, and... touch on each- topic separately," he said, thankfully not cowed in the least by my admission that I was, for all intents and purposes, a virgin. Then again, he had probably known or at least suspected from the moment he had laid his sharp, blue eyes on me in that campus security cubicle in front of the library main entrance two days ago.

If I had learnt anything about him in the miserably short time we had spend together, it was that he was very observant. Spookily so, almost. Never truly maliciously, though.

If I had learnt anything about myself, it was that I was very obvious. To him, at least.

Maybe even for him.

Only for him.

"Now, Miss Wilkinson..."

My spine straightened at the delicious strictness infusing his tone.

"Just to ensure that we're on the same page here - would you please repeat to me exactly what you know about the further proceedings tonight?"

"I-uh... Ca—Cavity search?" My answer sounded like a question and my nervousness was only half an act.

"And which body cavities did you give me written permission to search, exactly?"

My eyes fell onto the form I had signed. It still lay just where I had left it, with the pen on top.

"Oral, vaginal, anal," I enumerated dutifully.

"That's exactly right," he said. His shoes scuffed against the floor as he turned away from me and seemed to tell the room, with his crudest tone, "Your mouth, your cunt, and your asshole."

I shivered as I picked up on his own anticipation through his suddenly coarse words.

I heard a noise behind me, like a drawer being pulled open and shut again, and then his steps rang out once more as he walked back toward me. Slowly and steadily, like always.

"First-timers like you often need a bit of assistance to guide them through the procedure as smoothly as possible, you see, which is why this little technique is very much recommended." He went to his knees behind me again. Warm hands touched my left lower calf. "Widen your stance, please."

"Like this?"

"Wider, Miss Wilkinson," he said.

I slid my left foot out until I was well and truly wide-legged, enough for the sticky-wet lips of my pussy to gape open. Cold air licked at my core. I could feel the next drop fall.

"Good girl," he commended. "Now the other one as well, just a little."

The stance left me a little unbalanced and my hands reflexively let go of my dress and landed flat on the table top again to steady me. "I am sorry," I said.

"Don't be."His fingers slid down my right leg. "You're perfect."

I tried to hide my smile.

"I knew you would get into position like a natural." He huffed a laugh. "Makes me wonder whether this is the case with all positions."

"Hah!" An embarrassed laugh burst from my mouth. Well, in my dreams last night I sure as hell-

A rope of silky material slid against my right ankle and tightened, not nearly painfully, but noticeably. My panty hose, or one half of it.

He slid two fingers underneath the noose he had made and probed it all around. When he was satisfied with the fit, he switched to the other leg and repeated the action.

"Now you only have to hold this exact position until I tell you not to. Can you do that for me, Miss Wilkinson?"

"Well." I affected innocence once more. "I can try."

He made a noise and put either hand on my legs, then simultaneously slid them up - and up and up, all the way up to the cheeks of my butt that were now barely covered by my airy little dress. He grabbed them quite roughly and massaged the rounded, fatty flesh there.

"Yeah, you will try, I am sure," he said, sounding hypnotized again.

When I rocked forward due to his ministrations, which made my insides tingle and felt so fucking good I groaned, I became aware of the resistance around my legs for the first time. I couldn't move my feet much more than a few inches in any direction - except even farther apart, I supposed, but I had never been the most bendy person (except in my dreams). As it was, there was a very faint tension in the muscles in my thighs and on the inside of my calves that told me I would be feeling the burn and be sore tomorrow if I went much wider.

A thrill, both hot and cold, went up and down my spine. I was truly tied to the office table.

"Are you comfortable, Isobel?"

Again it was as if he had read my mind. Or my body. Or both.

"I am."

"Very well. Let us proceed, then."

Still, he spend several more minutes reverently kneading the flesh of my butt with both hands, probably watching more drops fall from my pussy as he jostled and nudged me there. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the waves of almost decadent pleasure his deep, hard touch sent up and down and through my body. It was like yesterday, when he had grabbed and massaged my chest, just more. He took more time, touched me harder and even more completely, until the marrow of my bones seemed to hum with it.

Who would have thought just how good it felt to simply be touched? And to want to be touched? God, I thought I would probably need this every day until the day I died. My fingers curled again against the polished wood of the table, suddenly itching with the need to return the favor.

"I want to touch you back," I confessed quietly.

"I know you do," he replied, a smile audible in the way he said it. "But today is just for me, you greedy woman."

Implying that tomorrow would be for me? I hoped so. I really, really hoped so. Three days were hardly enough. I was indeed greedy for the pleasure of pleasing him directly and not just through my obedience and my body.

"Focus, Miss Wilkinson," he admonished and slapped my well-kneaded, tenderized ass hard with both hands, making me yelp and rock forward on my toes again, then got up and stood so close behind me again that my hip bumped into the edge of the table. The fabric of his pants rubbed against the now-bare skin of my legs, his crotch squeezed up to my ass, and his chest enveloped my entire back.

He reached around me and set a dark gray box onto the table, right between my splayed hands. It looked like a case for pencils or maybe glasses, just a little bigger.

"This will be the main instrument for our cavity search, for now. Please, open it."

I did. It came with a little latch that could be flicked open. The lid opened easily.

I stared at the silvery item couched inside on a matte black plastic inside part that was molded exactly to its unconventional shape. A little longer than my thumb, translucent like glass, with a slim notch and a wide flared base, its main body consisted of three increasingly large beads, one on top of the other. It looked a bit like modern art.

"Take it out."

I did. The thing was surprisingly heavy and felt solid in my hands.

"This... probe," he began, gingerly taking the toy from my hands when I had looked, felt and (yes) sniffed my fill, "is a brand new investment of mine. It has been bought for you specifically, actually."

"Oh?" I didn't know what else to say. My heart was thumping in my chest. I assumed the plug was indeed made of glass, it so felt completely smooth in my hands, and it smelled and looked clean and unused and... well. Intriguing.

While it had seemed frighteningly big in my hands, it wasn't so daunting in his, and I couldn't help but wonder, with an exciting pinch of fear in my gut, where exactly he would use it. And how.

"I guess I should just demonstrate," he said, casually sliding a hand under my skirt and flipping it up again. "It is really a very nifty, helpful little tool."

If the cool kiss of the scissors along my gash had been exciting, the feeling of the ribbed, bulbous glass plug sliding shallowly along my labia from behind had me nearly cumming right that instant. My pelvis twitched and jolted with the exquisite sensation, and got an equally twitchy response from his cock behind me. I hung my head and focused on breathing.

"You see, it helps with the rinsing out."

Drip, drip. He made sure to smear some of my wetness liberally around my vulva, the lower

the inside creases of my thighs and the swells of my butt.

"Experts swear that it increases blood flow to the areas it is used on, thereby making my job a lot easier."

Back and forth and back and forth.

"Because it is easier to probe a cavity when the tissue is nice and supple."

I could hear the sound of glass against slick flesh.

"Not too supple, of course," he conceded, getting slower because he could tell by my breathing and my shivers that I was getting closer.

Back... and forth... and back-

Closer.

Closer.

"Please," I gasped, feeling an orgasm rising, looming.

Immediately, he stopped and took the plug away.

"Good girl," he said even as I whined in frustration, as if I had voluntarily given him the information he needed to deprive me yet again.

"Look up."

I did, lifting my sagging head, only to see the glass plug in his head right before me. It was... messy now. A clear string of my lubrication was dangling from its tip, like some sort of obscene drool. Whitish slickness gleamed in the grooves between the three beads.

"Open your mouth."

I hesitated.

"Open your mouth," he repeated, sliding his free hand around to my hip and between my legs - just a fraction of an inch above the spot where I needed him.

The implication was clear.

There was really no choice to be made.

I opened my mouth.

"Wider."

I opened wider, and the solid glass slid over my tongue, barely grazing my teeth, until the notch lay against my lower lip and the smallest bead was just shy of triggering my gag reflex.

"Good girl," he said again - this time, it was a little groan - and moved his finger that last, elusive inch.

I inhaled deeply and then held my breath. Every nerve in my body seemed to inhale with me.

Then his fingertip moved and rubbed me gently.

One more exhale.

One more inhale.

He tapped on my clit once.

Boom.

Fireworks.

My eyes rolled up as the accumulated sexual frustration of the last two days broke from me and seemed to rip itself out of my body through my pussy. I groaned and cursed with my mouth full even though I could barely remember how to breathe. It felt so good. Too fucking good. And I couldn't close my legs even a bit to stop it from feeling too fucking good. He held me against him and kept the plug in my mouth with his palm. I sobbed.

"Suck it clean, Isobel."

My eyes squeezed shut with his words and the sensation and taste in my mouth. I sucked and licked and swallowed.

"Fuck," he swore appreciatively through my body's crazy twitching. "Fuck yes, that's it."

I was equal parts thankful and saddened when the force of it subsided gradually. I felt like a wet, wrung-out noodle, all my strength gone, breathless like I had just run a sprint. I was fairly certain my thighs were still shaking.

He pulled the plug out of my mouth and I drooled saliva over my chin.

"Don't wipe that off," he snapped when I unthinkingly lifted a hand to do just that.

"Sorry," I hastily apologized, and just like that, the tension already started racking up over again, just seconds after I could have sworn I would never have an orgasm again in my entire life. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth like that might cool the flames that licked underneath my skin, from my core across my chest and up my throat and into my entire face.

"Very useful, as you have seen," he said, as if the last three minutes hadn't happened and we were in the middle of a very sober discussion about body cavity search instruments.

"Indeed." I nodded, just a little jerkily. His body had disappeared from behind me. I leaned forward onto my hands a bit more to compensate.

"Your oral cavity seems to be unproblematic, so let's move on-"

I was almost too loose, too wet to even feel the plug as he pushed it up my pussy without warning. There was no resistance at all until the last, the biggest bead.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelped, went all the way up on my toes, shifted my hip forward and away as far as the table allowed, and felt my muscles constrict with the sudden tension.

Well, now I could feel it. It felt massive inside of me.

"Quiet," he admonished. His fingers had a firm grasp of the base of the plug and maneuvered it around ever so slightly, pushing in and pulling out and angling it this way and that, working against my movements.

Hitting all the spots. All of them. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

I moaned and grunted and rolled my hips, impaling myself on the stubby glass plug over and over. The beads massaged me from the inside, and every time the big one slid out of me, there was a squelching sound that sent a shower of goose bumps up my neck. The edge of the flared base bumped against my clit with every other stroke.

Just as I was edging close to the next climax, he pushed the plug up and merely held it there.

"No results," he said and clicked his tongue. "I was so certain I would find something, Miss Wilkinson."

I was beyond words. My head sank down onto the table until my forehead touched the smooth surface. My thighs now truly trembled with the strain and with nerves. Mostly with nerves. My body was alight like a Christmas tree.

"Then again, we do have one more cavity to search, don't we?"

For a second, I was almost worried that he would use the plug on my back door as well, perhaps even just as abruptly as he had used it on my pussy - but then his knuckle grazed my clit and any concern I had ever had in my life melted into thin air.

He could do anything to me, so long as he kept touching me like that. Just like that.

Oh, fuck, like that.

"Relax. Let me take care of this," he murmured. "Let me take care of you."

A finger slid through my wetness, collected some of it and then circled my pucker. Round and round it went, mirroring the motion of the finger that was travelling around my clit, consistently grazing and teasing but not hitting the bull's eye.

Eventually, the fingertip slid into the middle and nudged it with every turn, and then nudged deeper. He breached me very gently, very slickly, not even causing the slightest pinch of pain. I realized he had to be wearing a glove when his finger slid in deeper and drove a different type of moan from me.

This one was more feral than the ones before.

"Very cooperative," I heard him say. "Such a good girl."

We found and moved in a rhythm that made me mewl every time his finger reached a new, deeper spot - which seemed to be every single time. And still the glass plug sat snug inside my pussy, gently moving along with the both of us, kept exactly where it was by the heel of his hand. And still, his other finger teased and evaded.

"Such a good girl," he repeated. "Look at you."

At his words, my next orgasm came like a flash flood and buried me under it, out of nowhere.

I howled and sobbed and cursed. I could feel my inner muscles clutch and release the glass plug, clutch and release the finger that was knuckle-deep in my ass. Fresh wetness squirted sideways out of my plugged hole and splashed against the inside of my trembling thighs.

I rested my hammering heart against the cool faux wood, counted the aftershocks, and just breathed.