A Cheater's Regret (Chapter 1) free porn video

I tremble with anticipation as I sit in the bleak waiting room. There are several other people here, including some red-haired girl I think I've seen at school before, but I feel alone. Alone and unprotected. No one is talking – the silence is broken only by the near-deafening tick tock of the clock hanging on the pain white wall across from me.

Feeling the ache from the hard metal chair beneath me, I shift my legs nervously under my skirt. My only company are the tropical fish swimming contentedly in their aquarium perched next to the shedding plastic Christmas tree few feet from my chair. Some generic holiday decorations break up the monotony of the wall. Geez, Christmas break is a month away still, and the mindless decorating and advertising is already in full swing. The magazines stacked on the small table in front of me are ancient – like no one has thought to bring in some new ones since the Jurassic period. I glance down at my phone, no reception in here. With nothing else to occupy my hands, I nervously fidget with a few loose strands of hair by my ear. Just a few weeks ago I was celebrating Thanksgiving with my family, not a care in the world. Now this.

I wish I could just get it all over with. Gloomy thoughts of my past swirl around me.

High school was a breeze. Despite my overbearing, obnoxious parents, I graduated a year early. But I quickly found out that being a college student these days isn't easy. I got through my first half of my Sexuality Studies degree just barely making ends meet. Then disaster struck when I was fired from my waitressing job. I had been looking forward to the holiday season for months, excited for the extra business and generous tips... instead I now had no job at all. I thought I was screwed for sure. I wouldn't be able to graduate, and without a degree, my prospects would look grimmer than ever. I lay awake at night, shuddering at the prospect of having to crawl back to my parents, begging for help.

Things only got worse from there.

My gloomy train of thought is interrupted as the door swings open and a stern-looking nurse steps into the room.

“Katie?” she asks.

I nod sheepishly.

“Come with me,” the nurse tells me.

I rise from my seat and follow her through the door. The red-haired girl seated across the room picks up a magazine, disinterested in me. The interior of the clinic is just as bleak as the waiting room. Fluorescent lights hum above our heads as we walk down the hallway, each wall lined with identical waiting rooms. A few medical technicians and patients are milling around. God, I hope no one knows what I’m here for!

The nurse takes me into one of the rooms and hands me a medical gown and a clipboard.

“Undress and change into this, and fill out the questionnaire,” she orders me.

I hesitate to respond, this is all happening too fast. The nurse raises an eyebrow and frowns.

“Are you going to be a problem?” she asks.

“N-no!” I stammer.

“You're really lucky you weren't expelled for what you did,” the nurse continues. “But if you finish this study successfully, you'll get off with a clean slate.”

I nod.

“But if you don't follow direction or comply with the program rules, you will be disqualified, and all charges reinstated.”

I stare back at her, afraid to look away.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.” With that, the nurse turns on her heels and walks out. I jump as the door slams shut.

That bitch Melanie, this is all her fault! I know damn well she's the one who reported me. No one else knew I wrote Matthew's report, so who else could it have been?

I slip out of my turtleneck sweater and skirt and fold them neatly on the chair sitting beside the examination table. Surprisingly, the room's temperature actually isn't too bad. Southern California gets warm winters anyways, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. All that's left is my bra and panties.

God, I hope nothing too embarrassing happens to me today.

I reach behind my back and unhook my bra. My nipples perk up as the warm air washes over them. I pause for a moment, and then slide my panties off. I look down over myself. I had made sure to shave and groom myself today – as if it matters in this place. It’s a matter of pride I guess. To my embarrassment, I feel a slight tingle of excitement shooting up between my thighs. I've always known I have a bit of an exhibitionist streak in me, but never strong enough for me to ever even think about acting on it. But I still can't help but find a guilty thrill in all this.

Pushing away the dirty thoughts, I pick up the gown. To my pleasant surprise, it isn't one of those dreadful hospital gowns that barely what needs to be covered, it’s a nice silky little robe. It is a lot shorter than I would like, but better than what I thought I was going to get.

I pick up the clipboard. The questions start out pretty basic.

Sex? Female, duh.

Do I drink? No.

Do I smoke? Nope, thank God.

Sexual orientation? Uh... straight. Yup straight.

Am I on any medication? No.

Allergies? No.

Have I had sex before? Ugh… I answer “yes.”

How many sexual partners have I had before? I answer “one.” I only had one serious relationship in high school – with the boy who took my virginity. But we broke up when I left for college.

Have I ever had an orgasm?

I stared at the question, unsure if I had read it correctly the first time. Yup, they're really asking that.

Ah well. I answer “yes.”

When did I last have an orgasm? Ugh, alright... three months ago.

How do I typically reach orgasm? As sweet as my boyfriend was, I was never able to get an orgasm with him. I circle “masturbation” and drop the clipboard on the examination table.

Well, that was awkward.

How the hell did I get into this? When I lost my job, I needed to make money somehow. My phone was turned off, my car payment and insurance was past due... I was in deep trouble.

Then Matthew, dumb jock and douche of the year, offered to pay me $50 to write his English paper. Easy enough. I completely half-assed it, but he came back with a B+ and happier than ever. It didn't take long for him to become completely dependent on me. But that spoiled, rich little shit had no problem shoveling money my direction, and I had no problem taking it.

Big mistake.

I was in my dorm room one night working on Matthew’s psychology midterm. My bitch of a roommate Melanie blundered in – she could barely walk straight and I could smell the booze in her breath. She was like this at least three or four times a week and I was absolutely sick of it. Not to mention she never missed an opportunity to tease me in front of her little sorority friends and make my life difficult. I couldn’t wait for the semester to end so I could request a different room.

Melanie shambled over to the desk and looked over my shoulder.

“What are you working on?” she yapped at me.

“My psychology paper,” I mumbled. Could she just go to sleep and leave me alone?

“Didn’t you do your psychology paper already?” she slurred.

“Yeah well, I’m re-writing it,” I said, growing exasperated.

“Hmmm… are you sure that’s really your paper?” she asked snidely.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Of course it is!” I insisted. “Now could you let me work in peace?”

Melanie grinned and sprawled out on her bed. A few minutes later I could hear her snores. I wondered if she was suspicious of me. Good thing she was wasted, she would forget the whole thing the next day.

After my psychology class the next day the teacher, Mr. Jeffries, called me over to his desk and told me to come to the academic office with him. I went numb. I knew what this was about. The walk down the school hallways to the office was the longest few minutes of my life.

The academic director for sexual studies, Ms. Turring, was waiting for us. Ms. Turring is a tall, older woman with dikey short-cropped hair. She doesn’t take any nonsense – I’ve seen her verbally rip apart students who crossed her. But she’s always liked me, and told me I had a promising future with the school.

The angry and disappointed look on her face hurt me more than anything else in this messed up situation.

Ms. Turring held up a paper – it was my psychology midterm paper.

“This is very good,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said, trying my best to maintain my composure. Maybe I could still get through this.

Ms. Turring held up a second paper.

“You know what this is?”

I shook my head, even though I knew perfectly well what it was.

“This is Matthew’s paper,” Ms. Turring said.

I stood very still.

“Or at least that’s the name on the paper,” she continued. “But I know it’s not his, because, to put it bluntly, he’s an idiot.”

I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the floor.

“Did you write this?” she asked me.

I was tempted to lie, but I felt compelled to be honest.

“Yes,” I whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

“Well, at least you told the truth,” she said. “If you had lied, I would have had you expelled right here. Matthew already confessed, so the game was already up.”

A part of me remembered Melanie. That bitch snitched on me! But mostly, I felt ashamed.

“You’re not out of the woods yet,” she told me. “We are going to discuss this matter, and then decide what the appropriate punishment for you is, assuming we don’t kick you out altogether.”

As soon as I got back to my room I hurled myself onto the bed and buried my head in my pillow. I cried like I had never cried before.

I tried to stifle back the tears as I heard Melanie come in. I lay absolutely still for what seemed like an eternity, until I finally heard her heels click back out into the hallways and slam the door shut behind her.

That bitch ruined my life.

A couple days later I was summoned back to Ms. Turring’s office. She was waiting for me with Mr. Jeffries and several other faculty members.

I stood in front of her, head bowed. I awaited my fate.

“Katie, you realize how serious this is?” she asked me.

“Yes ma’am,” I nodded.

“We really should expel you, however, after some discussion, we have decided to give you a second chance.”

I felt jubilation. My life wasn’t ruined after all.

“An old friend of mine needs a volunteer for a research project,” Ms. Turring continued. “And you still need your social studies credits, yes?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

“It is a six month program, and I’m not going to lie to you, this study is very invasive and difficult,” she said. “But the alternative is expulsion.”

I looked back at her timidly.

“Are you willing to do it?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

I snap back to reality. I’m back in my robe, sitting in the clinic.

A gentle-looking woman in her thirties walks into the examination room, with the stern nurse on her heels. She extends her arm out to me.

“I'm Dr. Manyard, how are you feeling?” she asks, shaking my hand firmly.

“Uh... okay, I guess,” I answer shyly.

I see four other people come into the room. I recognize one of them –Mr. Jeffries and Ms. Turring! Oh God, they’re going to see all this too? I look over at Ms. Turring really quick – she doesn’t make eye contact.

The doctor breaks away from the group and picks up the clipboard, glancing over my answers.

“Nurse, could you get Katie's height and weight, please?” she tells the stern woman beside her.

The nurse takes me by the arm and practically pulls me over to the scale in the corner of the room. As I stand on the scale she steps behind me and pulls my shoulders back.

“Stop slouching!” she growls at me.

After scribbling down my numbers, the nurse lets me step back off the scale.

“You can sit down now,” Dr. Manyard says with a smile, gesturing over to the table.

I place my hands on the table and lift myself up. The paper liner covering the surface crinkles loudly as I sit down. The doctor hands me a new form with a signature line at the bottom.

“You may feel a bit embarrassed about all this, but everything that we'll do today and for the next six weeks will be entirely confidential,” the doctor tells me. “In this study we will be studying your sexuality – you might feel uncomfortable at times but don't worry – nothing you do or say here leaves these walls.”

I feel a little bit better. She seems nice, certainly nicer than the nurse.

“Just show up to every appointment on time and obey instructions, and you'll be fine. Understand?” she asks, smiling sympathetically.

I nod.

“But I do need to warn you that if you don't cooperate or otherwise disqualify yourself from the study, we will report it back to your school board, and they'll resume disciplinary action against you. Okay?”

I nod again.

Dr. Manyard smiles approvingly.

“Okay dear, just sign the consent form, and we'll start.”

I scribble my signature on the paper and hand it back to her. She picks up some more forms from the counter next to the sink. I can hear Mr. Jeffries coughing. God, this is so humiliating. I can’t wait for this to be over.

“You're doing just fine dear, ” the doctor says, turning on a voice recorder and setting it down on the counter.

“Okay,” I answer back.

“Now Katie...” Dr. Manyard starts. “On the questionnaire you stated you had an orgasm three months ago, is that right?”

“Um, yes,” I blush.

“How did you achieve orgasm?”

“What do you mean?” I ask in disbelief.

“Did you have sex with another person or did you masturbate?”

“I... I masturbated,” I say, painfully aware that I am the center of attention for a room full of people.

“When was the last time you were sexually active with another person?” she asks.

“In high school, before I started college,” I murmur, growing more embarrassed.

“With a boy?”

“Y-yes, I had a boyfriend.”

The doctor finishes writing down my answers and stares at her clipboard, thinking for a moment before asking her next question.

“Can you count how many orgasms you've had in your life?”

I blush again. Not even just because I'm being asked embarrassing questions like this. I'm embarrassed because I know exactly how many orgasms I've had, and the number is so low.

“About eight,” I stammer.

“That's okay dear, nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr. Manyard tells me. “And I take it you had all these orgasms by masturbating?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Do you watch pornography when you masturbate?” she asks me.

“No.”

“Have you ever watched pornography?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, that's all the questions for now,” she says with a smile, passing the clipboard to the nurse. “Now we'll start the diagnostic exam.”

My mind is racing, thinking about what she is going to do to me. I'm nervous, but at the same time, the tingling sensation between my thighs is growing. To my shame, I can't help but feel slightly turned on by this whole situation.

“Go ahead and open your robe for me,” the doctor says, washing her hands in the sink and putting on a pair of gloves.

The nurse pushes a machine up to the table and attaches several wires with adhesive cups to my chest and lower stomach.

“These are just sensors to monitor your vitals during the diagnostic exam,” the doctor explains.

I nod nervously.

“Are you experiencing any pain right now, on a scale of one to ten, one being 'none,' and ten being 'extreme,?'” she asks.

“No,” I say.

“Mmmkay... now one a scale of one to ten, how aroused are you?”

“Huh?” I ask.

“How aroused are you?” she says again. “Ten being having an orgasm right now, and one being completely un-aroused.”

“Uh...” I stammer. I glance over at the other people, they’re unmoved. Just her asking me this is a little exciting. I squeeze my legs together, trying to smother the betraying sensation.

“Be honest,” she smiles. It's as if she can read my mind.

“Err... two, I guess,” I answer, finally.

“Alright,” she says.

Dr. Manyard takes her stethoscope to my chest, listening intently. I'm so nervous I can't help but squirm.

“You need to sit still,” the doctor tells me, a stern note in her voice. “If you move around, you could knock the sensors loose. It is important you don't move at all.”

I gulp and try to stop moving. She continues examining me.

“Breathe in,” she says. “Now out.”

“Breathe in.”

“Breathe out.”

The doctor mumbles some numbers to the nurse, who scribbles them down on her clipboard. The doctor pushes my chin back and feels my pulse. Dr. Manyard puts away the stethoscope. She gives some more numbers to the nurse. She takes me by the waist and pulls me closer a few inches. The doctor wraps her hand around my throat and her other hand forces my mouth open. She rolls her fingers over my tongue and teeth.

“Dental hygiene appears to be good,” she says to the nurse.

Dr. Manyard releases my head and presses her fingers into my stomach. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” I whisper.

She slips the robe off my shoulders and continues pressing her fingers into my side and back, repeating the question each time.

“No pain or discomfort detected,” she tells the nurse. Ms. Turring is watching me from across the room attentively.

Her touch suddenly gets lighter, her gloved hands tracing lightly over my skin. It tickles a little, and I can't help squirming under her hands.

“You need to keep still,” she tells me again. “You move one more time, I will have you restrained for the rest of the session.”

I heed her warning and stop moving. She runs her hands over my collarbone, and moves down between my chest. I bite my lip as the doctor's touch rolls over my nipples. I force myself to not make a sound as she lightly flicks one, and then the other. Dr. Manyard sees my reaction and turns to the nurse.

“Subject experiences sexual pleasure to nipple stimulation,” she says.

I blush with embarrassment. I can't believe I'm acting like this. I just have to keep my mind off things, and wait for it to be over.

The doctor lets go of my breasts and moves down my belly. She brushes aside the open robe and parts my legs. I shy away.

“Nurse, restrain her!” the doctor says.

The nurse walks around the table and takes me by the arms, pinning me in place. I feel the crackle of Velcro as she binds my wrists together behind my back. The doctor continues her exam on me.

Her hands trace over my inner thighs. I clamp my jaw shut as the doctor's fingers graze over my pussy, sending spikes of pleasure up my body. Jesus, I can't believe this is turning me on.

“Mmmmff...” I stifle a tiny moan as the doctor glides her fingers through the building wetness between my warm lips. I look up at her trying to conceal my horror and shame. She smiles back at me.

“Moderate levels of arousal fluid detected. I am collecting a sample.”

She wipes the building dampness off my pussy with a swab and drops it into a test tube. The doctor puts on her stethoscope again, and listens to my chest in several places like she did the first time.

“Breathe in.”

“Breathe out.”

“How aroused are you now?” she asks me.

I feel completely humiliated, but at the same time strangely comfortable with telling her the truth. Not that there's any point in lying now.

“Uhh... ummm... four.” I say.

The doctor puts her hand around my throat, pushing my head back. With the other hand she gently rubs my clit, sending spasms of pleasure shooting up my stomach. My bound hands writhe helplessly behind my back. The doctor pauses and turns to the others.

“Subject experiences sexual pleasure to vaginal stimulation.”

Dr. Manyard resumes touching me. She looks at me in the eyes as she teases my clit, studying my face intently. She slips two fingers back inside of me, sending jolts of pleasure into my core. Wetness drips out from my parted lips and onto the tissue paper of the table. My whole body is shaking from the relentless sensual assault, and I feel the nurse’s grip tighten around my arms. I can’t help myself anymore. I start to moan helplessly.

“The subject is vocalizing,” Dr. Manyard says, taking her hands off me.

She starts running her stethoscope over me again. “How aroused are you?”

“God, uhh, errr… six or seven,” I gasp.

“You’re pushing her too close to orgasm,” Mr. Jeffries says. “You haven’t even started the routine yet…”

“Don’t worry about it, everything is under control,” Dr. Manyard assures him.

“At this rate, she is going to climax before you’ve even finished the diagnostic!” Mr. Jeffries says.

It’s weird and degrading to hear these people discussing me like a lab specimen. But at the same time, strangely, it’s also a huge turn on.

“I’m surprised she was aroused that quickly,” Ms. Turring says. “Especially in a clinical setting like this.”

“She’s young and sexually inexperienced,” the doctor says. “This is probably all new and exciting for her. Medically inducing an orgasm won’t be difficult. The hard part will be holding her back long enough to get the biometric data we need.”

“Maybe you could wait for her to cool down a bit?” Ms. Turring suggests.

“No,” Dr. Manyard says. I didn’t expect to have a subject who is sexually stimulated so easily. We're getting readings far more quickly and accurately than I expected. We’re having a great run, let’s keep it up.”

Mr. Jeffries shakes his head in disagreement. The doctor looks back at me.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Dr. Manyard assures me. “Keep your chin up!”

I feel a little bit better.

“I’m going to apply some current,” she says.

“Is that a good idea?” Ms. Turring asks. “I don’t think she can take much more punishment.”

“Its fine, I won't push her too far,” Dr. Manyard says.

One of the male technicians produces a handheld box with two wire connectors protruding from it. The doctor takes it from him and approaches me.

“We are just going to apply a low electrical current to your body,” she explains to me.

My eyes widen with fear.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” she assures me. “It’ll just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

The nurse leans backward as the doctor clamps one of the wires to my nipple and holds the other one to my stomach just above my belly button.

“Okay dear, three… two… one…”

I squeal in surprise as the electricity springs into my nipple and down my chest. It’s painful at first, but I after a couple seconds I get used to it. I hear myself starting to moan.

Dr. Manyard switches off the current, to my relief and disappointment.

“Subject is responsive to current, level 1,” she says. “I’m increasing the voltage to level 2.

She moves the second wire from my stomach to my other nipple. Oh God, this can’t be happening. I’m being used in front of all these people.

The current starts up again with no warning.

The nurse holds me firmly as I buck backward, moaning louder and louder. I feel more aroused with each passing second. The current stops just as suddenly as it started.

“Alright, the subject is extremely responsive to the current… what’s your arousal level now sweetie?”

I'm so horny I can can barely even think straight.

“I – I – I think… eight, yes, eight,” I moan.

“One more time, staying at level 2,” Dr. Manyard says.

“She could have an orgasm at any moment now!” Mr. Jeffries protests.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I’ll be careful,” the doctor tells him.

She snaps the end of the wire into a small metal rod, about two inches long and the width of a pencil, and moves it in between my thighs.

She gently slips the rod inside of me.

Oh God.

I scream wildly as the current shoots into my core. I feel the pressure building up. Am I really going to have an orgasm in front of everyone?

The doctor switches off the current.

“The diagnostic is still incomplete, but I think we have more than enough data to continue,” she says, removing the wires from me.

The rod drips all over my leg and the table as she slides it back out of me. I should be embarrassed, but I'm not.

“How aroused are you feeling?” she asks.

“Uhm… nine… nine,” I whimper.

“She was supposed to be at most a five at this stage,” Mr. Jeffries says.

“She was well past a five before we even started,” Dr. Manyard laughs.

“We have a problem,” one of the technicians says. “The flat-screen doesn't work.”

“Seriously?” Mr. Jeffries groans. “No one checked it before we started?”

“It's alright... what other rooms have a working screen?” Dr. Manyard asks calmly.

“Room 137 does,” the technician replies.

“Alright, we need to get over there right away and hook the subject back up as seamlessly as possible,” the doctor says. “Too long a delay could degrade the accuracy of the whole exam.”

The nurse removes the sensor pads off my chest and pulls me to my feet.

“Let's go, quickly!” Dr. Manyard says earnestly.

Everyone troops back out into the hallway. I’m still naked, and my hands still tied behind my back. Christ, I hope no one sees me. A couple nurses in lab coats walk past us, their eyes locked on me. I blush.

Oh God, I just saw the red-haired girl from the waiting room out of the corner of my eye. I hope she didn’t see me.

I'm led into a new room. The nurse switches on the lights. There's a vitals monitor identical to the one in the previous room sitting against the wall. There's a television screen suspended on a large arm, not unlike the overhead light at a dentist's chair. In the middle of the room there is a steel table.

“Hurry, get everything set back up!” the doctor commands, sending her technicians scrambling to power up the new equipment.

The nurse unfastens my wrists and leads me to the bench.

“Lay down,” she orders me.

I obey. I shiver as my bare skin presses against the cold metal. A technician comes over and puts the sensor pads back on my chest. He takes his time doing it, and I can't help but notice his fingers grazing over my breast as he applies the pads. As he finishes attaching the last sensor he quickly pinches my nipple and scurries off. I'm so horny by this point, I don't really even care.

Dr. Manyard walks over and listens to my breathing and heart rate again with her stethoscope, jotting down a few notes.

“How aroused are you, dear?”

“Around eight, I think” I answer.

She pulls the television screen up over my head. The nurse places ear buds on me.

“Okay Katie, we’re going to show you some video now,” the doctor tells me. “The clips will start very broad, but depending on your physical reaction, the images shown will gradually become more refined until it exactly matches what you like. Do you understand?”

“Not really,” I shake my head.

“That's okay, you'll understand in a few minutes,” she smiles at me. “Kill the lights!”

The room goes dark as the screen overhead flickers to life. I watch as a few test patterns flash at me. The blocks of color fade into a scene outside a school, not unlike mine. A young man and woman are flirting by the bus stop. The images and sound wash over me, I feel like I'm right there with them. The guy is some jock, reminds me of Matthew, ugh. The girl is really pretty though. Dark brown hair and wonderful eyes. She smiles, showing perfect little white teeth.

The man leans in and kisses the girl passionately, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The scene changes again. They're both naked and having sex.

Scene changes. Two men are kissing. Eww.

Woman performing oral sex on a man. Video clips of various men and women having sex in numerous positions flash on the screen.

Two women kissing.

A man having sex with two women.

“Subject experiences moderate sexual arousal to threesomes,” Dr. Manyard says.

The erotic scenes flood my senses. My own desire increasing with every passing moment. I run my hands over my body and play with myself. I toy with my hardened nipples and stroke my clit. I'm openly masturbating in front of a whole group of people, I don't even care. All I can think about now is finding relief from my sexual urges.

“Don't let her touch herself!” Dr. Manyard says with alarm in her voice.

The nurse snatches my hands away and pins my arms to the table. Two of the technicians help her fasten restraints around my wrists and ankles. Now I am completely helpless, only able to watch the erotic scenes unfold in front of me with no way to touch the relentless sexual buildup between my thighs.

The scenes continue. Two women in bed, caressing each other passionately.

Woman eating out another woman. The camera view switches to a closeup of the woman's face, moaning with pleasure as her partner licks her pussy.

I feel the doctor's stethoscope prodding me again. She leans down and whispers into my ear.

“How aroused are you?”

“Nine,” I whisper back.

“Do you like those girls?” she asks tenderly.

I nod excitedly.

“Subject experiences high sexual arousal to lesbians,” she says.

“She's a lesbian?” Mr. Jeffries asks.

“Not necessarily, its pretty common for even straight girls to find lesbian porn appealing,” the doctor explains. “She's young and innocent – this is all new to her.”

Scene after scene flashes up on the screen. They are almost all women now. They are also getting kinkier. I see beautiful girls being tied up and sexually tormented by other women, men, and even whole groups of people.

“The subject is showing submissive tendencies,” Dr. Manyard states matter-of-factly.

“How do we know that?” Mr. Jeffries inquires, clearly still skeptical of the doctor's methods.

Ms. Turring answers for her.

“Its how she reacts to the camera angles and different closeups. She identifies more with the girls being dominated.”

The videos end and the screen goes black. The room lights up. I'm gasping for breath, and my arousal is mind numbing. I feel the warm, sticky dampness building between my thighs. I want to reach down and bring myself relief more than ever. But I can't, because my hands are tied to the table.

Dr. Manyard presses the stethoscope to my chest.

“Try to breathe normally,” she tells me.

I can't. My breathing is still ragged.

“Inhale,” she orders me. I obey.

“Exhale.”

“How aroused are you?” Dr. Manyard asks. “Are you really close to a ten?”

“Y-y-yes...” I'm so turned on I can barely even speak.

She takes my nipple in between her fingers and pinches. I let out a soft moan.

“Subject experiences extreme sexual pleasure to nipple stimulation and is vocalizing,” she says.

I gasp as she brushes her hand in between my legs.

“Oooohh...” I whimper.

“There are extreme levels of arousal fluid, I am collecting another sample.”

“Oh!” I moan as I feel the swab rub over my aching pussy.

Dr. Manyard puts the swab in a test tube and hands it to the nurse. She starts stroking my clit and dips her fingers into my soaked pussy. Everyone's eyes are on me, and I do my best to stay quiet. But I can't help myself.

“Oh! Oh... Oh God!” I gasp.

““Subject is experiencing extreme sexual pleasure to vaginal stimulation. She is making a visible effort not to vocalize, but moans uncontrollably when her clitoris is stimulated.”

I'm so horny I desperately try to push myself into her fingers, but she places her other hand on my stomach and holds me down.

“I have to physically restrain subject from self-inducing an orgasm as I stimulate her,” the doctor says, finally releasing me.

This has to be the most humiliating experience of my life. Why am I enjoying it so much?

“Are you going to be able to complete the procedure?” Mr. Jeffries asks.

It'll be tricky,” the doctor replies. “She is dangerously close to an orgasm.”

“How much time do you need?” I hear Ms. Turring's voice say.

“I would need to stimulate her for at least thirty minutes to get the readings I need,” Dr. Manyard answers.

“Will you be needing any tools?” the nurse asks.

“No, she's too close to the edge for that,” the doctor says.

Dr. Manyard touches me on the cheek kindly.

“You doing okay, dear?”

“Ye-yes,” I whisper.

“You're almost done sweetie, this is the last test we need to do,” she tells me. “I'm going to sexually stimulate you until I induce an orgasm. Understand?”

I nod.

Dr. Manyard puts a clicker in my hand.

“It is very important that you don't climax too quickly. Don't try to resist or fight it, but as soon as you feel yourself about to orgasm, snap the clicker, and I'll ease off. Okay?”

I nod again.

“If you orgasm before I say you can, it will ruin the testing data for the whole session, and you will be disqualified from the program,” she warns me. “And you will be sent back to the school for punishment. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I say.

“Alright... nurse, start the timer now!” the doctor orders.

I look up at her nervously. She squirts some gel onto her gloved hands, rubbing it over her palms and fingers. I can't wait for what is about to happen, but I'm also terrified of her threat.

“Just close your eyes and enjoy it,” she tells me.

The room goes dark again. I lay still on the table, helpless under the restraints. Nothing happens for a few moments. Then I feel it. The featherlight touch of her warm, oily gloved fingers. She is just barely grazing my skin, each glancing touch sending shocks of arousal up and down my body. I am overwhelmed with delight as she strokes my sides. Her touch moves over to my breasts, gently cupping and teasing them. She takes a hold of my nipple and tugs it lightly.

“Oooohhh...” I moan quietly.

“Subject is vocalizing at 24 seconds.”

Still cupping my breast, her other hand skates down my stomach. I quiver in anticipation, only to be disappointed as her fingertips change course and run down my leg.

“One minute,” the nurse calls out.

She starts tracing featherlight circles across my stomach and inner thigh, each stroke moving closer and closer to my pussy.

“Oh, oh God... oh my God...”

Suddenly her fingers slip inside of me.

“Oohh!” I panic at for a moment, but I regain control. I can handle this for a few seconds at least. I can do this.

“Two minutes,” the nurse says.

Dr. Manyard rolls her thumb over my clit, sending spasms of pleasure pulse through me. I'm about to come, I can't take it anymore.

I snap the clicker.

“First break at two minutes, 17 seconds.”

Dr. Manyard listens to my breathing and heart rate again with her stethoscope.

“I don't think she's going to last 30 minutes,” Ms. Turring says.

“Let's find out,” the doctor replies, and firmly rubs her finger across my clit.

“Aahh!” I squeal in surprise.

“On a scale of one to three, how long could I stimulate you like that before you had an orgasm?” she asks. “One means in a few minutes, two means in a few seconds, and three means almost immediately.”

“I-immediately... three!” I gasp.

“Okay, reset the timer,” Dr. Manyard says to the nurse.

She resumes running her hands up and down my body. She stops at my nipples and tweaks them over and over again between her fingers.

“Oh... oh.... ooohhh...” I don't even mind the fact anyone is watching me anymore. If anything, it's an even bigger turn-on.

The doctor lifts one hand and slides it in between my legs. She strokes me slowly at first, but faster and faster.

“Oh God... oh God!”

She presses a finger down on my clit and starts caressing it softly. The building pressure is too much. I snap the clicker again.

“18 seconds,” the nurse says.

18 seconds? That's it? Oh God.

“Hmmm, okay, start the timer again,” Dr. Manyard says.

Wetness is flowing freely from my soaked lips over her fingers as they penetrate me faster and harder.

“Oh God, Oh God oh God oh God!” I moan uncontrollably.

I desperately snap the clicker.

“5.2 seconds.”

“Relax, dear,” the doctor tells me. “Start the timer again.”

The doctor pushes her fingers back into my pussy. She rolls my swollen clit back and forth under her thumb. It's more than I can take. I just barely manage to snap the clicker in time.

“1.8 seconds.”

I don't think I can take much more of this.

“Start the timer again.”

Dr. Manyard skates her fingertips back and forth across my swollen, dripping lips. She doesn't even enter me, and I frantically snap the clipper.

“.6 seconds.”

“I'm checking her vitals again,” the doctor says, picking up her stethoscope.

She listens to my tortured breathing for a few seconds.

“Subject is right on the verge of an orgasm,” she says. “I will check her responsiveness again to see if we can continue.

Dr. Manyard flicks my nipple.

“Ohh!” I moan desperately. The sexual buildup is driving me insane. I don't care about anything else in the world – all I want is to come.

“Subject experiences extreme sexual pleasure to even the slightest touch to the nipples,” she says.

She rubs her finger over my clit.

“Aaaahhh!”

The massive orgasm gushes out of my pussy and sends tidal waves of pure ecstasy coursing through my body.

The whole room goes silent. All I can hear is my own ragged breathing as I come down from my climax. Oh God.

“Well that's that,” Ms. Turring says.

“I guess someone is getting expelled,” Mr. Jeffries says.

The lights turn back on and several technicians shuffle out the door, propping it open. Dr. Manyard peruses the various dials on the monitor machine, scratching her head in thought. Eventually giving up, she walks out with Ms. Turring and Mr. Jeffries.

The nurse unfastens me from the table. It takes me a few minutes to regain my composure enough to ease myself back on my feet.

I feel awful. All of that for nothing. I've disqualified myself from the study, and am getting kicked out of school anyways. My life is over.

There's only one option left.

I walk out the room into the hallway. I'm still naked, but I don't care who sees me. As I step through the doorway I almost bump into someone. My heart jumps up into my throat. It's the redhead from the waiting room. She is wearing a visitor's badge on her jacket and sipping from a paper cup by the water cooler. We make eye contact. She looks disinterested in me and wanders off. I remember what I'm doing and continue onward.

Dr. Manyard and the two school officials are conversing in an open examination area a few yards away. Their heads turn to face me as I approach them.

“Was there something else, Katie?” the doctor asks.

“I... I would like another chance,” I stammer.

Everyone pauses for a moment.

“You already disqualified yourself,” Ms. Turring says.

“Please... give me another chance,” I beg. “I'll do whatever you want!”

“Well, she did try her best,” Dr. Manyard says sympathetically. “It wouldn't hurt to salvage the data we can and give it another go next week.”

“I won't let you down, I swear!” I say eagerly.

“I don't think its a good idea,” Mr. Jeffries says.

“We can give her one more chance and see how it works,” the doctor says. “Would you like to continue the testing?”

I nod excitedly.

“Okay,” she says. “Nurse! Measure her!”

The nurse approaches with some measuring tape.

“Hold still,” she commands me.

I stand up straight as she wraps the tape around my throat. Next she grabs my wrist and measures it as well. She scurries off for a few minutes before returning with two white cardboard boxes.

“Over the next week before our next appointment you are going to continue your day-to-day life as you normally would,” the doctor explains. “During that time you will wear these sensors.”

She opens the boxes. The first box contains a steel bracelet. The doctor locks it around my wrist, ensuring it fits securely. The second box contains a small steel collar. She snaps it around my throat.

“These will be gathering data 24 hours a day, storing everything they collect in their memory chips, which we will collect at the beginning of our next session.”

I nod.

“Do not attempt to remove them or damage them, or you'll be disqualified from the program. But they're water-proof, so you can still shower and swim.”

“Yes,” I respond.

“Also, it is very important you do not have sex or masturbate,” she warns me. “If you experience an orgasm at any time, we'll know about it when you return and you'll be disqualified.”

Its a lot to take in. But I guess I can handle it. I'm allowed to return to the first examination room and dress. No one pays attention to me as I walk out of the clinic.

Outside there's some guy in a Santa Claus hat ringing a bell for donations, looking bored out of his mind. He smiles as I walk past. Good thing he has no idea what I just did.

I find my car in the parking lot. I brush wipe off the collecting snow on the windshield and sit down in the driver's seat. I stop for a moment to catch my breath before driving away. I never could have imagined myself ever doing something like this before, let alone asking for more.

This is going to be a long week.

__

Author's note:

Needless to say, writing this was a bit unusual for me, but I hope you all enjoy it! After reading, feel free to visit my FB page or Tumblr, because I love getting feedback for my creations. Thanks.