Thanksgiving 2013 - 1) It Begins At Work

Thanksgiving 2013 - It Begins At Work

Thanksgiving this year was on 28 November 2013, and we were hosting the celebrations at our house this time, with all the family staying over in Florida for the weekend.

Master Mark was going to be the first to arrive, on Tuesday afternoon he’d said, and I was looking forward to seeing him again, especially for an extra day. I’d been somewhat distracted since lunch, wondering where he was, just boarding his plane maybe, or already here in town, he had mentioned something about having local business to see to, which was why he’d be a day early. Just thinking  of him being nearby instead of 500 miles away had me tingling all over, and I even thought I could hear his voice in reception at one point.

I was called into the senior partner’s office, Mr Charles, just after 2pm, taking my notebook with me, since this sort of summons usually meant some important work for me to undertake, otherwise it would have come through one of the secretaries. I’ve been into the attorney’s offices before, so made sure I had my best professional frame of mind engaged as I stepped through the door, always keen to do a really good job on their behalf. There was a man sat with his back towards the door, so I couldn’t see who it was, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I smelled his cologne, and recognised the neat cut of his hair.

“Good afternoon, Katie,” Mr Charles greeted me, “we were wondering if you could help us settle a discussion my friend Mark and I have been having.”

I hardly registered what he was saying as my very own Master Mark stood and turned to greet me, his face serious and professional, as he reached to shake my hand. With his back now to Mr Charles he smiled and silently mouthed “Hi”, but went on in his wonderfully friendly voice, “It’s nice to see you Katie, Charles has said some very nice things about you.”

“Katie is one of our most promising paralegals, and really knows her field.” Mr Charles took over while Mark returned to his seat, and I moved over to stand beside the desk, so that I could see them both. To be honest, I had nearly lost all my professional integrity at that point, but recovered with hardly an outward sign, as Mr Charles began what sounded like a legal quiz at college.

“Katie, what legal right does an individual enjoy that puts the burden of proof onto the plaintiff?”

“The fifth amendment to the Constitution, Mr Charles,” I responded, “where an individual may refuse to answer any question that would incriminate himself, because said witness may have a reasonable fear of prosecution and yet be innocent of any wrongdoing. The privilege serves to protect the innocent who otherwise might be ensnared by ambiguous circumstances.”

“Well done, Katie.” Mr Charles’ praise was always welcome, but especially in front of my Master, since I knew my behaviour reflected on him, even though Mr Charles would know nothing of that aspect.

“Another one for you, Katie,” he continued, “based on your excellent work with Miss Linda in her family law cases. What is one of the unfortunate realities about domestic relations cases.”

“In the Washington DC case I assisted with, it lead to claims of domestic violence and the issuance of an injunction from the Court,” I explained. “ Miss Linda represented her client where she had been victimized by such violence.”

“And what was the specific complication in this case?” Mr Charles added.

“The plaintiff was separated from her husband for several months,” I continued, wondering at where this was going, “had engaged in an alternative lifestyle relationship with another man, then been assaulted by her husband. Her extramarital relationship involved consensual submission to several non-standard sexual activities that she had never engaged in with her husband, and when he found out about them, he assumed these same actions were his to be taken by marital right. Following Miss Linda’s representation to the court, he was charged with sexual battery due to lack of consent to these actions from his wife, and following several discussions between the aggrieved parties which made it plain that such consent was lacking.”

“An excellent summary of the events, Katie. The principle behind the case being what, exactly?”

“Consent is an explicit agreement to acts, terms, and conditions. It can be confirmed verbally and/or in writing, and also withdrawn by the same means at any time. The plaintiff’s circumstances were

within a BDSM relationship, wherein a participant gives their permission for certain acts or types of relationships, and it bears much in common with the concept of informed consent in a medical setting, where the boundaries of permission are clearly defined. The importance of consent is simultaneously a personal, ethical, and social issue. Acts undertaken with a lack of consent are considered abusive, both legally and socially.” I felt like I’d just completed a presentation with my ethics tutor at college, mentally running through each point I’d made, just to make sure there was nothing I had missed out.

“There you are Mark,” Mr Charles added, “perfect understanding, without once needing to look up the text of either precedent or case notes. This girl could be an attorney if she wanted to pursue the career and take the Bar. Oh why can’t all my paralegals be like young Katie here?”

“Now then Charles,” Mark gently rebuked him, “who would do your research if this clever young lady took the Bar and set up in practice by herself. However, I have a little test of my own that I think will prove a depth of understanding that you may not be aware of, nor Katie herself for that matter.”

Turning to face me, Master Mark explained the background to this test, which I was becoming a bit concerned about, since this was my place of work, and our relationship had remained unknown to everyone here.  “Katherine, Mr Charles has been a very good friend of mine for a long time, not just in business matters, but a close personal friend who has earned my utmost trust. Bearing in mind the understanding you have shown with regards to the fifth amendment, and the principle of consent in special relationships, I ask you this one question.”

At this point he paused, and my heart was racing as fast as my mind , trying to work out where this conversation was going, and what he could possibly want to ask me. As I reviewed the comment he had just made, three things stood out. First, by using my full name, he had triggered his position as my Master, and thereby an invitation to service. Second, he had changed Mr Charles’ position from being my employer, to becoming a trusted friend of my Master. And finally, he’d given me a ‘Get out of Jail’ card, by using the fifth, if I wanted to take it. I still didn’t know what was coming next, but I had a feeling my Master was going to test one of our established boundaries.

As I looked at my Sir’s smiling face, my confidence rose as he asked, “Katherine, what do you have planned for the approaching holiday?”

In itself, a perfectly normal enquiry, between us it was an invitation to declare my submission to my Master. At that moment I realised that the boundary being tested wasn’t that between work and my private life, because my Sir had just removed that obstacle by making this a personal affair, so the test was my level of trust that my Master would never jeopardise my career. My trust in him was absolutely solid.

Standing proudly, I replied in a quiet, confident voice, the phrase that always thrilled me so deeply, “I do all things to please my Master, since my body belongs to you….. and I love it.”

I couldn’t help smiling at Master Mark when I’d finished my declaration, I never can, and his return of that smile was all I needed to know he was proud of me. Mr Charles was smiling as well, rather than looking shocked, then watched as Mark held his arms out, and I happily hugged this man who meant so much to me. With one arm still round me, Mark turned us both towards Mr Charles, and asked if he could see why my Sir was so honoured by the way I was prepared to serve him.

Mr Charles asked me why I had been prepared to risk my job by admitting to such a controversial relationship, so I explained that I didn’t consider this situation to be a risk. Not compromising my career was one of the limits we had agreed, binding on both our parts, and Master Mark had given me sufficient reasons just now to support the deep trust that I already have in him. I knew what he was inviting me to say, and I trusted implicitly that he would only ever ask this if it was in my best interests. My Master stated that he trusts you, therefore, so do I, Mr Charles.

“Thank you, Katie,” Mr Charles said, “I appreciate that. We’ve had many discussions about you, my dear, both Mark and I, as well as several of the other partners, all of them favourable of course, your work has always been exemplary, and your personality brightens the whole office. I’ve often suggested that Mark might enjoy making your acquaintance, since you have many of the qualities he always approves of, but I never realised the sly dog had already met you.”

I’d always assumed that my private life was a secret from the people at work, so the chances of anyone knowing Mark would be extremely slim, since he lived out of state, and making any sort of connection between us should have been virtually impossible. When I explained this to Mark, he assured me that no-one in the office, other than Mr Charles, had any idea what was between us, but they had done business together on many occasions, long before he’d even met me online. They had several social connections as well, some of them fundraising and networking, but the pertinent ones were that they both enjoyed membership of a high end BDSM organisation, sometimes meeting at an arranged event, and Mr Charles was also one of the sponsors of a Female Development Research Project. I picked up on that last point, although I didn’t say anything, wondering if it was the same project I was enrolled in with Dr Forrest, and whether he had any access to my research notes.

Mark had been curious about Mr Charles’ comments regarding one of his employees, especially the suggestion that he should meet her, but the coincidence of a law firm in this area, with a girl named Katie, was too remote to be true. I remembered him encouraging me to discuss work more than usual during his visit earlier in the year, then again at my birthday, but hadn’t realised what he was up to. Today’s meeting had been arranged by Mark as a social visit, so that he could test out his theory, and he’d been pleasantly surprised when I had walked into Mr Charles’ office, in addition to being amused by the look on my face as I tried to regain control.

My Sir apologised for putting me on the spot, planting a kiss on my forehead, but told me he was extremely proud of the way I’d handled the situation throughout the ensuing discussion, including the material I’d been able present, without any notice for preparation. Far more important though, had been my demonstration of the absolute trust in which I held my Master, and my ability to discern his position in this challenging situation. He’d made sure that I had been provided with  ample choices to avoid making the stand I’d gone with, which clearly showed my commitment.

He appreciated my efforts to balance his requirements of clothing and display, with the office dress code and etiquette of a legal environment, to which end Mr Charles had provided ample evidence of my success, and its effect in improving staff morale. Following on from some of the discussions that Mark and Mr Charles had engaged in, he was sure that there was room for some changes in the office protocol, in certain controlled situations. So, by way of reward for my exemplary behaviour, he suggested that Mr Charles should be granted the privilege of inspecting my dress whenever he saw fit to do so, and suggesting changes if required. With a most nonchalant expression, Mark said it might brighten a case review if I was to sit with my skirt raised and knees apart, or some similar circumstance, so would Charles be in favour?

Mr Charles agreed that he would make the arrangements, if I consented, which I assured him I did, especially as it offered me the chance to demonstrate my service to Master Mark, and to bring praise to the way he cared for me.

Mark then took the arrangement a stage further, and gave Mr Charles permission to include any of the other partners in this new protocol, but only after discussion with myself, and my giving consent to each new member. Mr Charles accepted the changes, I gave my agreement, and Mark instructed me to fetch my purse from my desk, which I couldn’t see how that fitted into this discussion at all. When I returned, Mark asked if I was employed under a standard contract, which was part of the HR system, which I was, then told me to give Mr Charles a one dollar bill, and ask him for an extra Restricted Use clause to be added, the details of which were only known to him. I handed over the money as requested, and Mr Charles confirmed that I now had a client relationship with him, that would protect the confidentiality of any matters we discussed. He completed a receipt slip from his desk, listed as “Services provided by both parties, fully paid in legal tender of $1” handed it to me, and told me to keep it safe at home.

Whatever happened in the office after this would come under the protection of client privilege, and would not be visible in any documentation other than a reference to Mr Charles and I having a paid attorney/ client relationship, for undisclosed services. Master Mark had very carefully arranged that my career was fully protected, showing again just how well he took care of my interests.

Mr Charles asked me to seal the office, so I turned the lock, and slid the “Conference” sign across, a small slider on the inside of the door allowing this without having to go outside, and we were now safe from any intrusion. If anyone wanted to contact Mr Charles, his PA would buzz for attention, and he would choose to accept or decline to respond. This was a service often valued in our family law cases, where the material discussed could be of an intensely sensitive nature, and their freedom from interruption could be guaranteed.

When I came back to the desk, Mr Charles asked me to remain standing, and explained, “You may be surprised to know, Katie, that a common topic of conversation among the senior staff concerns the way you seem to consistently dress with such skill. We have never once seen you breach the dress code, and yet there is always something especially appealing about what you choose to wear. Take your present attire, turn for us if you will, a reasonably attractive dress, short sleeved to show your bare arms, not overly tight fitting, a modest neckline with just the slightest hint of décolletage, the hemline well within the limits that the code would allow. In all, totally acceptable, and yet, there is just the hint of unevenness around the hip line. Not visible pantie lines, as some of the ladies show, but perhaps an embellishment around the waistband, maybe bows or embroidered flowers.”

“Thank you for your compliments, Sir,” I replied, “I do try to be attractive within the dress code, and make my decisions accordingly, but I hadn’t realised I’d become a discussion point. I knew that some people had noticed, since it’s one of Master Mark’s house rules that I provide subtle hints as to what undies I’m wearing, then leave it to their imaginations to take it further, if they wish to.”

Mr Charles had quite a smile on his face, and I could guess how far his imagination had reached by now, but his response had quite an effect on me. “I would have expected blue satin briefs, with large bows, Katie, but since Mark has given me inspection rights, you may lift your skirt and confirm if I have made the correct choice.”

The tremor of excitement running down from my shoulders was intense as I gathered my hem and lifted it slowly up my legs, wiggling it over my bottom till my royal blue satin bikini panties were displayed beneath the bunched up skirt. “Well done, Mr Charles, on guessing the colour and the material,” I congratulated him, “the style is bikini, which is close, and there are bows right along the waistband, but the bulk you could see through the dress comes from a satin flower that’s embedded in the centre of them.”

I remained with my skirt held up, waiting further instructions, and after a few minutes admiring my bare legs and exposed panties, Mr Charles asked if I was wearing a matching bra. “In this case, yes Sir,” I replied, “They are a matching set, but not every day. Although, they would always be the same colour, so if I’m wearing pink panties, I would wear a pink bra, but it may have a different pattern. I would never deliberately mismatch, such as a black bra with white panties, or blue with red, as I think it shows a woman doesn’t care about how she looks.”

“Please remove your dress completely, Katie,” Mr Charles instructed, “I’d like to see you in just your underwear.”

Slowly, I lowered my hem, unzipped the dress, and then slipped it from my shoulders to a pile around my feet, as if it had just fallen from my body. Assuming a presentation position, with hands behind me, I watched the two men as they studied my scantily clad figure.

“Katie,” Mr Charles asked, “since I have dress inspection rights, what are the limits I need to respect? I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“I have freedom to choose my wardrobe, within Master Mark’s dress code, Mr Charles, “ I answered, “but Sir may choose a specific outfit if he wishes, so I assume the override is yours to exercise as well, if you want me to come to work in a particular dress, or underwear. Sexual contact would be off limits, but as part of your inspection you may personally adjust, or remove, any items of clothing, so physical contact would be allowed to any part of my body, short of penetration. Master Mark suggested earlier that having me assume a specific pose, such as hem raised, knees apart would be acceptable, so you may position me any way you see fit.” I was watching my Sir nod his approval at each stage, but thought that I had covered all the points I was confident about, which just left one more area I was unsure of.

“There is one other matter that I require Master Mark’s clarification on,” I continued, “if I may?” Nodding his assent, I explained, “Although Mr Charles is not permitted sexual contact, would it be authorized for me to pleasure myself, for his enjoyment, within my normal restrictions on orgasm? Since he can potentially undress me completely, and have me naked in his office, it would be the same level of exhibition that I undertake in other circumstances, except not quite so casual.”

 

I was watching Mark throughout my request, and could see him considering each point, with just the hint of a smile, so when I’d finished, he turned to Mr Charles.

“Well now, what do think Charles,” he asked, “was that a persuasive pleading? Do you think you could manage that sort of distraction in your office?”

They were both grinning widely at this point, no doubt considering the spectacle of a naked young paralegal with her fingers in her pussy.

“It does have its attractions, Mark,” Mr Charles replied, “if she could clear up a couple of things for me. First, the other circumstances of exhibition, and then the normal restrictions on orgasm?”

“The circumstances of exhibition, Mr Charles,” I replied, “cover the enjoyment I receive from some casual displays of my half dressed body in Mall changing areas, all completely accidental, often in areas within clear view of the sales floor area where husbands sometimes wait for their wives. Also engaging in masturbation activities in restrooms, the ones with large clearance under the dividers, and faulty door locks. The issue of restrictions on orgasm, is that Master Mark controls my sexual release, allowing me to masturbate two or three times each day, to maintain a high excitation level, but I am only allowed to reach climax with explicit permission from my Sir. He is very considerate though, Mr Charles.”

“Thank you for the explanation Katie, it was very well covered.” he commended me, then turned to Mark, “If you’re agreeable Mark, I think we can accommodate that into Katie’s framework, and I’ll try not to overstep the bounds too often, if the young lady can put up with that?”

“Oh, please don’t worry over that, Mr Charles,” I assured him, “I can respectfully inform you of any areas that may become a problem within our agreement, and I’m only too happy to be of some service to you.”

Mr Charles summarised the arrangements, everyone agreed to them, and he wound up the meeting, telling me to get dressed, then I could return to my desk and take an early leave for the day. He even zipped up my dress for me, quietly thanking me for being so understanding.

I was driving that day, so offered Mark a lift home, since he’d taken a cab from the airport, and we called in at a coffee shop to wait while Mom finished, then went and picked her up as well. She was just as thrilled to see him as I’d been, but she didn’t have to keep up her professional appearance, so she hugged him straight away, right there in the parking lot. Lucky thing.

Mark sat in the back with Mom, talking, while I kept my attention on the road, which wasn’t easy, since Mom was instructed to take her panties off and stroke her clit, keeping herself just on the edge all the way home. Mark was going to stay in Mom’s room for the weekend, so he took his bag up while we started dinner, then we spent the rest of the evening catching up on everyone’s news. Mom was surprised by my changes at work, but trusted in our Master’s ability to care for our interests in the best possible way, and said I was a lucky girl to have all those opportunities for fun in the office.

At bedtime we joined Mom in her room to celebrate our Sanctification together, but this time it was at our Master’s personal direction, and instead of our special dildo, it was Sir’s real cock that sank into our waiting entrances. At the end of the ceremony, Mom was allowed to sit on her Master’s hard prick, and ride him till they both climaxed together, then she laid back while I was instructed to clean her with my tongue. Mark positioned us on Mom’s bed so that he could fuck both my pussy and my ass in turn while I licked his juices from Mom’s pussy, as my Master filled mine with his second load.

We all cuddled afterwards for a while, then showered together, and I was sent happily off to bed in my own room, content in the knowledge that my Sir was just down the hallway.

 :-)

24 Birthday Bus Tour

24 Birthday Bus Tour

Grandad and Uncle Robert said their goodbyes, and hung up, leaving Master Mark on the line, then after some more praise for my courage, a little chit chat about general things, he reminded me that I had better put my school uniform on, or I’d be late for my trip. He had to hang up then because he had a meeting to go to, and a lot of other things to organise, but before he said goodbye, he instructed me to carefully read the instructions he’d included with my clothes.

The note had said, “A Birthday Task And Treat”, that I was to wear the full school uniform, and take a small bag, also that I was a representative of the school, so he was giving me a role play situation. I was glad that Mom was going with me, or at least she’d be nearby, but I didn’t understand Sir’s reference to not talking with any of my friends I might meet. Maybe he was taking me to somewhere I was known, such as my dance class. His comments about being considerate, and obedient to elders was something I would do anyway, but since my Sir already knew that, there must be a special reason for him to include them, so I would have to take extra care. Then his comment about the tour being interactive could indicate that someone he knew would test how well I behaved, or at least observe it. Ooo! a spy on the bus, how intriguing. Yes that was it, I thought, I’m required to write a report about what happens, and Sir will compare my version with someone else that is going to be there with me. Mom?

I re-read them again, just to make sure I knew what was going to be required of me in this task, but there were still no clues as to where I would be going, or what the Treat part of it would be. Whatever was to happen, I trusted my Master to look after me. Although, if I didn’t get dressed right away I was likely to miss the bus, and my trip would be to the headmaster’s study for a seriously smacked bottom.

Having just been spanked, then made to cum, I was my usual dripping, juice self between my legs, so gave my slit and thighs a quick wipe with a wash cloth, then a spray with my Little Girl scent. Mom bought me Avon Sweet Honesty when I was five years old, just after Dad left and we became much closer to each other. All through school it was my main fragrance, even Junior High, and High School, I would often use it instead of my more grown up perfumes. For a school trip like this one it would be perfect. My jewellery check was OK too, since I still had my gold studs in my ears from last night, and I’d removed my nipple, clit, and navel jewels for my spanking, as usual.

I slipped the underwear on, a pink satin bra that was all pleats and very fancy lace, then a pair of bikini panties, cut more fully than I would normally wear, with a lace panel at the front, laid over the satin, and several pink satin bows sewn on. The sizes were a perfect fit, as I fully expected from the man who knows my body so well, after all, it does belong to my Sir.

The skirt was next, a blue tartan pattern similar to my old High School style, but not that colour, and definitely much shorter than I would have got away with back then. There was a long zipper at the back, too long really for such a short skirt, a single blue button to fasten the waistband, and quite a few belt loops, though no belt with it.

The white blouse fitted beautifully, even the collar buttoned comfortably when I put the satin bow tie on, which looked quite good, and the front of the blouse had been tailored to mould perfectly round my breasts. There were no instructions as to whether it should be tucked in, or worn over the top of the skirt, but I remembered that Sir had once said how smart girls looked with a blouse fitted inside their skirt. I tucked it in, what else would my Master want, since this whole overall effect was leaning towards proper ladylike behaviour.

The final touch was pulling on the long white socks, three quarter length, not the over knee style fashionable today, which drew attention upward, along the bare thigh going under the skirt hem. These were Virgin socks, pure white to indicate the total lack of sexual experience of the wearer, marking her out as pure and untouched. I had loved wearing these at school, even in graduation class, when all my friends had dressed in more adult styles, and I would defend my choice as representing who I was. I didn’t need to project a false image of someone older, or someone who’d had sex encounters without any long term commitment. I had enjoyed my school life, and dressed in this uniform, it was easy to slip back into that character for a short while.

Mom came down, having changed into a skirt and blouse, handed me my small light blue purse, telling me not to open it, as it only contained a change purse in case I needed to buy a drink later, my phone for emergencies only, and a couple of personal items of no account. I picked up my ticket, which Mom said I was to hold in my hand, checked my outfit in the hall mirror, then we left to catch our bus, chatting about my birthday as we walked up towards the highway.

When we arrived at the pick up point, Mom sent me to stand by the post with the bus stop sign on it, while she hung back near a small trash can, and rang someone on her mobile. I felt quite isolated stood out there, and the memories of catching the school bus came flooding back to me as I looked out for its approach. After five minutes a bus came towards us, looking for all the world like a regular Lynx service bus with a blue advertising wrapper round it.

The morning sun was reflecting off the windshield, so I couldn’t see very well who was inside, although it looked fairly full, but there was sign in the front display board that announced, “Chicken Film Productions – Private Contract”, and another on the side, next to the entry door. When the door opened I climbed in and showed my ticket to the driver, who asked me to move down and stand towards the centre of the bus, which of course I did, acknowledging him as having authority.  I was holding onto one of the vertical rails, just in front of a small group of men, watching Mom as she boarded the bus, and a young man stood to offer her his seat, leaving her sat a short distance away from me, but still in sight of each other.

As the bus pulled away I looked round at the other passengers, honestly not very impressed, since I was expecting a more luxurious coach, filled with holiday tourist types, whereas this was more like the bus I catch to work sometimes. There were a couple of groups of schoolgirls further down, dressed in navy blue uniforms, chatting quietly, several smartly dressed men and women, some on the phone, some reading books or magazines, and a man several rows back reading The Sentinel. I couldn’t see much of him, other than his hands, and the top of his head, but he had a presence that made him stand out, and I couldn’t work out just what it was. Slowly, he lowered the paper, and there was Master Mark, on my bus, in my town, on my birthday, hiding behind a newspaper… My heart leapt to see him there, but he put a finger to his lips to shush me, having no doubt seen my face light up. I dropped my eyes quickly, once more looking round the bus, trying to calm myself, and get back into the character I’d been assigned.

Now I realised what he’d meant by not having interaction with any friends that I may have seen, and I’d nearly blown it, although the typically girlish scream I nearly made would have been in character. I kept glancing his way as I observed the others on the bus, trying to be obediently casual, and I looked over in Mom’s direction a few times, where the smile on her face let me know that she knew all about what was happening. On my next pass, Sir was looking directly at me, and held up 5 fingers, then motioned for me to lower my eyes.

As I stood patiently waiting for what would happen after five minutes, someone came and stood directly behind me, up close. I couldn’t see who it was, but after only a few seconds I felt my skirt move against my leg several times, then the hem was lifted, and I could feel the breeze change on my thighs. Suddenly, I had a flash of insight as to what was happening, but quickly suppressed  those thoughts as I realised what my character was supposed to do. As a schoolgirl I should be embarrassed that a stranger was trying to see up my skirt, so I smoothed the back down with my hand, but it was lifted again shortly after. We had a small hand battle for a few minutes, then my wrist was gently held, and my skirt hem lifted to be tucked in the waistband. My pantie covered bottom was fondled, a hand was running up the back of each thigh, and then a fourth hand began to work into the top of my panties, tracing down the groove between my cheeks.

I’d been enjoying the thrill of being publically groped, with my eyes kept demurely on the ground, but I glanced round to see there were now three guys stood behind me so I was shielded from the other passengers. The hand travelling down my bottom stroked over my rosebud, making me shiver, but continued further, to the dripping slit of my pussy, swirling round the wet entrance. Slowly it drew back, till I felt the wet finger right over my asshole, where it pressed gently till it slid through the tight ring, although I wasn’t clenching very tight at all. The hands on my thighs moved up to grip my cheeks, then pulled apart, spreading my cleft as the finger thrust deeper into my ass till I could feel his palm on my butt. The finger curled upward, hooking my tailbone from the inside, then lifting me till my heels were raised, and he kept going till I was stood on tiptoe.

Someone began to rub along the gusset of my panties, pressing them into my slit, working from my clit to my pussy entrance and back again, then pulling the material out so they could smooth it flat. While they were working my cunny up to a lather, the man who’d hooked me kept lowering me down, removing his finger, then pushing it back in so he could twist it round, deep inside my bottom. I was so glad that I had got myself nice and clean back there when I’d showered this morning. The finger was now turned forward, and began pressing against the back wall of my vagina, rubbing up and down till he was pressing against my G-spot, and I moaned quietly at the rush of sensation through my cunny. I don’t know if it was the man with is finger up my bottom, but one of them leaned close to me and whispered, “You like this, don’t you little girl?”

It was said in a stage whisper, with no attempt to conceal what he was saying, and I saw the man seated in front of me look up from his magazine, right into my eyes, as if waiting for my response.

Holding this new person’s gaze, I answered the man behind me, “Please Sir, I don’t like it, honest I don’t. I’m not supposed to let men touch me like this, it’s unladylike. I’m a good girl Sir, please don’t do this to me.”

The man in front smiled, and spoke to me, “Yes, you are a good girl, my little one. That’s why you’re going to do as you’re told, just like an obedient schoolgirl should.” He added, “Now why don’t you put your feet further apart, so this nice man can see if you are behaving properly.”

Obediently I spread my feet, feeling the inside edge of my shoes being tapped till they were about a yard apart, then  several pairs of hands went roughly to work on, and in, my exposed panties. I remembered to squirm in a token show of resistance, to this assault, but I couldn’t move far because the man in front was holding my clit hood, and pulling it upward. My panties were pulled into the crease of my bottom, exposing the cheeks, which were squeezed, pulled apart, and slapped several times. While the front of my panties were held up, the back was slowly lowered to expose my cheeks completely, then I was turned to face slightly towards the back of the bus.

:-)

Katie’s Research Assessment 2012

Katie’s Research Assessment 2012 – written 20 October 2012 

This was an authorship task set by Master Mark, to recount my previous visit to my doctor for a regular check-up, as opposed to specific healthcare. By way of background, I have been enrolled in a Physical Development Research Project since I was 12 years old, where an annual check-up is used to record my current physical attributes and condition. Personal experiences over the previous year are recorded, and every 3 years a much more intensive examination is undertaken.

 

I received a letter from my MD a couple of weeks after my birthday inviting me to make an appointment for my annual check-up, which I arranged for the following Friday evening, after work. Since this was a routine visit, I didn’t have to worry about timing it with my period, and the receptionist told me it would be alright to shave my pussy beforehand as well. Sometimes I have to stop shaving so my pubic hair pattern can be monitored, but that wasn’t required this time, which was a shame because I know Dr Forrest likes shaving girls during their exam, and I also enjoy her doing it.

I arrived a few minutes early, and there were several other patients in the waiting room, so I gave my name, and took a seat, picking up a magazine to read. Quite soon after, the receptionist called me over to sign the permission forms, and then I was shown in to the doctor, and invited to sit beside her desk. We went through the usual medical questionnaire, following which I was asked to stand and Dr Forrest slipped the straps of my yellow sundress off my shoulders and down my arms, baring my breasts, with their pierced nipples. Taking hold of the silver hearts Grandad had given me on my birthday, the doctor looked at me and asked, “Are you going to be a good girl, Katie?”

This was a coded invitation for me to be submissive, allowing me to choose which type of examination I wanted, so I dropped my voice, and answered quietly, “Yes Miss, of course I am.” If I didn’t want to play, I could have replied, “I’ll try, Doctor”, then we would have continued with a normal doctor/patient relationship for this visit.

As it was, I’d offered her complete control over me while I was here, so she pushed my dress over my hips, letting the lemon material pool around my feet so that I could step out of it. Now I was left in my high heeled sandals, and my little girl panties in white cotton, with cute pink bows printed on them, while Dr Forrest was fully dressed in a smart business suit.

Taking a tailor’s tape from her desk, the doctor measured my chest, bust, waist and hips, recording them on my chart, then around my thighs and calves, finally pushing my panties down to measure from my spine to my navel, twice. The first was over the top of my labia, then she worked the tape between my lips, sawing it back and forth till it was embedded deep in my slit, squashing my clitoris. She took me over to the far wall to check my weight and height, the scales being located next to the door, which I’d been instructed to leave open when I’d first entered. Two people walked past the door while I was being weighed, both looking in at me stood in just my LG panties, and the doctor even turned my hips when a young man was admiring me, so that I was actually facing him.

Returning to the side of her desk, the doctor  checked my blood pressure and pulse, which she said were elevated, not surprising since I’d just been put on display, then she listened to my heart and lungs with her stethoscope. Instead of going round to listen to my back, Dr Forrest stepped forward and reached behind me, looking over my shoulder. I could smell her perfume as I nuzzled into her neck, my breathing getting faster as her hand slid from my lower back to my hip, then slipped under my panties onto my bottom. I felt her right leg move forward to press her thigh hard into my crotch, and I began to hump it as her hand pushed against my bottom, my pussy juicing up as I became excited.

With a swift slap on my butt, she pulled away from me, telling me not to be naughty, brought over a yellow plastic trash bag, telling me to drop my dress and panties into it before she wrapped a zip tie round the top, and placed it next to her waste bin. My pulse was even higher now, as I read the “To Incinerate” notice printed on the bag, wondering if I’d have to go home naked tonight. This was always part of my visits to Dr Forrest, being deprived of all my clothes at one point or another, sometimes she’d lock them in her desk drawer, or give them to the nurse to look after, and I wouldn’t know till the end if I’d get them back. I always did, except for one time when she took me to the basement to watch her put them in the furnace, just to show she did in fact have full control of me. That day I had to phone Mom to pick me up, as I’d gone in on the bus, but I was still completely naked on the drive home, and dripping wet as well.

Sitting down, Dr Forrest swung her chair round, having me stand towards the middle of the room, while she enquired about my sexual activity, how my piercings were healing up, and if I’d recovered alright after losing my cherry. I had to tell her about my birthday, because she always asks, knowing I enjoy describing the interesting presents I’m usually given, and making me relate all the details of my spanking. This part meant I had to turn my back to her and bend over, so that she could examine my bottom to see if the marks had all healed up. It also served to remind me that I was on display, as I now faced the mirror, which didn’t show my reflection, the position was wrong for that, but instead allowed me to see all the way to the front desk. Just at that moment the receptionist was looking directly at me, but then a young woman walked down the corridor to the restroom watching my reflection all the way down.

Retrieving a camera from her desk, the doctor took several photographs, front side and back, then close ups of my breasts and pussy, particularly where they had been pierced.

I was questioned about my periods, and explained about changing the sequence of my Contraceptive pill to delay my birthday period so that it didn’t spoil having my guests over for the week. Dr Forrest was OK with that, reminding me not to do it too often, then instructed me to hop up onto the exam table so she could do an internal check. With my feet in the stirrups, tied at ankle and knee, she opened my vagina with her fingers, spreading it wider as she inspected the tiny scars left by the removal of the last traces of the hymen, after I’d given my cherry to my Master last year. She was very pleased with it, saying how well the bio-oil had worked, and enquiring if I’d been doing my stretching exercises, which I assured her I had.

She inserted a cage speculum into me, with thin wire legs instead on the normal flat leaves, opening me up wide so she could photograph the results of losing my cherry, then put them in my research project folder later on. Leaving the speculum in place, she brought over a Hysteroscope, and a set of steel dilators, my pelvic floor sucking up as I watched her run her fingers over the largest shaft. I let out a loud sigh as she picked up the smallest one instead, then felt her working the end round my delicate cervix, pressing gently, twisting, and twirling till my tummy relaxed. It stung a little when the slim tip finally entered, stretching my ring of muscle just the tiniest bit, then a little more as the shaft went deeper. Dr Forrest worked the first part of the steel rod in and out slowly, letting the cervix relax, then inserting a wider section to open up the entrance to my womb further, extending her finger so that with each inward push it rubbed across my clit. She worked three of the dilators into me until the 10mm shaft was fully inserted, then she replaced it with the Hysteroscope, so now, not only was I stretched open, but I was being pulled about as she moved the scope in my tummy.

Dr Forrest said everything looked healthy, but I needed a flush, so the Hysteroscope was used to pass a pink probe that had a slightly flared end, and reminded me of a tiny dick, like a baby’s penis. The doctor eased it through my cervix, attached the clear pipe from it to a tank she wheeled over on a small cart, then filled the tank with warm saline. As she pressed down a plunger on the side of the tank, I could feel the warm water spray into my womb, a weird feeling, like an enema, but with the cramp further forward, and lower, just above my pubic bone.

After two further pumps she stopped, which I was glad for, as my insides felt really bloated, then she ran her hands over the lump that appeared in my tummy, pressing it painfully as she looked through the scope. She guided my own hands to the bulge, letting me feel its extent in my lower tummy, telling me that the inside of my uterus was now 2 to 3 inches across,  that’s about week 12 if I were pregnant. It was a very strange sensation to feel my womb move about as I pressed it in different places, and Dr Forrest made me push the bump as far as I could in each direction, till it became almost too painful to bear. Then she had me hold it there for what seemed like hours, but was probably less than a minute, while she explained that parts of my insides were being pushed out of place. At one point the doctor said she was considering inducing a phantom pregnancy in me, as she thought I’d look gorgeous with a fully bloated tummy, and perhaps she would seek my Master’s permission for the procedure. It was just a matter of inserting a balloon into my uterus, then inflating it with increasing volumes of saline solution, she explained, sounding as if it would be no more than changing a dressing.

While she was revealing her plans for me, she was moving my already bulging tummy about, and stroking her nail across my erect clit, knowing full well the effect that medical scenarios have on me. It wasn’t long before I reached a climax, thrusting my hips upward as she cooed encouragement in my ear.

Finally Dr Forrest let me calm down, then drained the fluid from my stretched womb, removed the Hysteroscope and the speculum, but left me strapped to the examination table, my legs splayed wide, in full view of the open door.

While not part of my usual check-up, the doctor wanted to inspect my piercings to make sure they had healed properly, so she removed the hearts from my nipples, and the pendant mouse that hung from my clitoral hood piercing. She stretched the flesh round each one, pulling and squeezing to check for scar tissue, then took a small case from her desk drawer, opening it to reveal half a dozen long tapered pins. I was told these were to check the size of hole that was pierced, and she slid the narrow pointed end through each of my nipples, then another vertically up from the bottom of my clit. There were lines on the side measuring the diameter of the hole, which she recorded in my notes, then she attached a ring to the end of each pin.

The two in my nipples had both been pushed from the outside, so the rings now faced each other, and Dr Forrest attached a stretchy thread between them, pulling it tight enough that my breasts were drawn towards each other. A second thread was fastened to my clit piercing, then to the tread between my nipples, putting tension on all three tapered pins, so that I could feel them being forced further through the holes. After making sure I wasn’t in too much discomfort, the doctor said she needed to talk to her nurse, and I realised that it was time for me to be put on display again, as she walked out of her office, leaving the door wide open.

While I love showing off my naked private places, being tied down and helpless adds a whole new dimension to it, and the doctor knew perfectly well that my cunny would be dripping wet when she returned. I was fine for several minutes, then a young lady walked past the door, glanced in, a smile quickly replacing her surprised look, before she moved on. The restrooms were further down the corridor, so a few minutes later she walked back the other way, pausing to take a good look at me this time, for quite a long time. About ten minutes later a man about Uncle Robert’s age walked past, saw me laid there, and walked in to enquire if I knew where the restrooms were, which I politely told him, while trying not to be too conscious of my nudity. Instead of leaving, he explained that he’d brought his niece in, and they always seemed to have a lot of waiting round whenever they visited. He was a nice enough man, his eyes kept straying to my naked breasts and cunny, and I could see him struggling to stop his hands from reaching over. Giving him one of my warmest smiles, I assured him it was alright to touch, if he wanted to, as I didn’t mind, so he reached out and gently stroked the underside of my breasts.

When he looked down to my hairless cunny, he asked “May I?”, and I felt a rush of heat as he so politely asked permission to touch me, so I answered “By all means Sir, please feel free.” His touch on my mound was so gentle I could hardly feel it, he stroked the exposed shaft of my clit, down the outside of my labia, then down my wet slit, coming to rest at my dripping vaginal entrance. He looked up at me with a smile, raising his eyebrows questioningly, head slightly to one side, so I told him, “You may penetrate Sir, if it pleases you”, and he slowly eased two fingers full length into my tingling cunny. His thumb came to rest against my hard clit, and I felt the fingers curl inside me, stroking gently along my G-spot, pushing me to one of the softest orgasms I’ve ever known. He held me just over the peak for less than a minute, an electric tingle running all through my sex, but none of the trusting and writhing I usually feel when I cum. When he withdrew is fingers, the sensations gradually faded away as he watched the expressions on my face, leaning forward, he kissed me tenderly on the cheek, said, “Thank you Miss” , then turned and walked out.

A few more people walked past after that, most of them patients or companions, as well as several of the staff, and I don’t think there was one who didn’t look in at me.

I was usually only left like this for about thirty minutes on my check-ups, but I was just beginning to wonder if I’d been forgotten, when I had a lovely surprise. A young girl walked past who recognised me, and she dashed to my side saying “Aunt Katie, are you poorly? Have you seen the doctor? Did she give you some medicine?”

This was Sophie, a lovely little thing I’d met on one of my earlier visits, when I was 21, I thought, correctly, her Mom had brought her over to me then to reassure the girl, who had just been enrolled on the research project. We had exchanged phone numbers with each other, chatted a few times, and I’d even been over to babysit Sophie on a couple of occasions. For now, I just put Sophie’s mind at rest that I was being looked after, and her sweet smile quickly replaced the worried frown on her brow.

“Do I get a hug then,” I asked, “I’ve not seen you for AGES?”

She put her arms round my neck, and nearly pulled my head off in her excitement, just as her Mom walked through the door, looking as if she was going to tell her off, but then recognising me on the table. Claire, her Mom, said hello, giving me a kiss, then told Sophie to apologise for bursting in like that, which she did beautifully, calling me Ma’am, which I love her doing, then finishing with a little curtsey, even lifting the hem of her dress. Claire apologised for catching me in this state, looking over my naked body, legs bound with Velcro to the table, pins through my nipples and clit, all tied together, then remarking that I’d been in a similar position last time. We had a laugh at that, and a chat about how we were both getting on, then I turned to Sophie, who’d been stood quietly while the grown-ups talked, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Now then Miss Sophie,” I said to her, “what are you doing here today? Poorly tummy? Fallen off your bike again?” I had a good idea what her visit was, since her birthday was only a week after mine.

“Oh no, Aunt Katie,” she said, pulling her shoulders back, “I’m going to have my special check-up, and Mommy says it’s a minestone one.”

Claire and I both giggled, and Claire corrected her daughter that it was ‘Milestone’, not ‘Minestone’. It must have been Christmas since I’d last seen them, and I could tell that Sophie was beginning to blossom, the little buds now obvious under the top of her dress. I took her hand, and told her the doctor was going to be really pleased with the way she was growing up, then reminded her that we girls had to be very brave and do everything the doctor told us to do. I leaned forward and whispered to her, loud enough that Claire could hear as well, “If you are really, really good, then when you get home you can ask Mommy if she’ll let me take you shopping, as a treat. If your Mommy says yes, then phone me and we’ll make a date. OK.” Sophie nodded her head, thanked me, gave me another kiss, and then Claire said they had to get going or the doctor would be cross when they were late.

As Claire and Sophie left, Dr Forrest walked back into her office, commenting on my visitors, so I explained how we’d met and become friends, and that Sophie seemed pleased that she knew someone nice who was on the same research project as herself. Dr Forrest said she couldn’t discuss Sophie’s case with me, not even to confirm that we were in the same study, nor whether the child was as co-operative as I’d been when I first joined.

We had just one more series of tests to do, so the doctor removed the pins from my piercings, putting them in the autoclave, then brought over a very long, Barbie pink dildo, which was to test my gag reflex. I took a few seconds to compose myself, put the end between my lips, then slowly took more of the dildo into my mouth, moving it slowly in and out. I had a couple of stalls as it reached my throat, but I recalled the very first time I had taken Master Mark’s cock all the way down my throat, and how proud I’d been to achieve that. Eventually I had taken the whole length of the dildo, so Dr Forrest told me I could remove it, as she recorded my results.

For the next check, Dr Forrest brought me a large black dildo to test my anal dilation, and had me stroking lubricant into the shaft while she worked more gel deep into my bottom with her fingers. Gradually she loosened my muscles, and then began to work the knob into my slick anus till it had entered, backing off and advancing quite a few times. As she stroked the black shaft deeper and deeper, the doctor rubbed my clitoris on each inward thrust, pushing my sexual response higher as she played with one of my cheerleader rape fantasies. At last the full ten inches were inside me, the balls had pressed against my pussy lips, and Dr Forrest patted the bulge in my tummy, saying how well I’d done.

Vaginal dilation was a little more difficult, as I’d only started recently, but the doctor had 4 increasingly large, realistic, pink dildoes to get me going, and she worked the first two into my pussy reasonably easily. The third one went about half way in, but my lips were so tightly stretched round the prick that I thought I’d rip in half, so I asked for a pause, and Dr Forrest locked a plate to the table, pressing it to the bottom of the dildo to keep it embedded. After a few minutes she resumed thrusting, making me play with my clit and nipples while she pushed and twisted the remainder of the dildo, saying she would get it all in my cunt if she had to tear me open to do it. This threat pushed me into a climax, squeezing my pelvic muscles down onto the straining cock wedged inside me. Then a quick spasm allowed the last two inches to ram hard against my cervix, lifting my womb up into my tummy.

As I started to thrust my hips up, Dr Forrest tightened the straps round my legs, tapping the end of the dildo after each strap, making me jerk, but less each time as I was pulled tighter to the table. As a final push, the doctor extended the stirrups even wider, till I was in a full splits, then stood at my shoulder, twisting my solid nipples with each shudder that ran across my tummy. I didn’t notice her remove the restraints, or take the huge plastic cock out of my stretched pussy, but eventually I looked at her smiling face as she stood over me, gently caressing my smooth mound.

When I sat up she brought me a bowl of warm water and a washcloth to wipe my hands and face, but told me to leave my juice coated cunny, and thighs, till I got home, and then I could take a shower. She was very pleased with my progress so far, especially taking all of the third dildo when I’d lost my cherry only nine months ago, and suggested that twice a week I use the inflatable dildo my Master had given me for my birthday.

I was then sent home in my dress and shoes, my panties laid on the top of my purse for all to see as I walked through the waiting area, and my still wet cunny smelling of girl juice.

As I passed the desk, the receptionist told me the report of my check-up would be sent to Master Mark by the doctor, along with any advice for follow up.

:-)