Being Thorough

He had prepared.

He had cleaned the room top to bottom and made sure and doubly sure that it, all adjacent rooms, and the entire corridor would be abandoned for the rest of the day. There were no cameras in the entire building except in the hallways on the top floor that housed the admin offices and in the atrium upstairs, which was also where the guards had their little room. The same guards who rarely ever looked up from their phones or the little TV in the corner. The same guards who didn't make the rounds until 10pm, just before locking up.

It was perfect.

He had deep-cleaned and groomed, cut his nails and neatly trimmed his beard down to soft stubble. His shirt was starched, his pants ironed, shoes shined. He smelled good, clean.

He was as perfect as he was ever going to get.

He kept staring at the object that sat snug in its case and reflected the overhead light off its gleaming surface. In his mind, he had ten different ideas of how he could... how he would

use it. He would make sure that it would feel so good for her.

Her.

She trusted him, and trusted herself trusting him, feisty, twisted, pretty, horny, beautiful little thing. At any given time she had all the control, but she held it in her hand as softly as a baby bird.

She was more than perfect.

His cock twitched in his pants just thinking about her. Her doe eyes and those dusky lips she kept nibbling when she was nervous, her velvet-smooth skin and her sweat that smelled like peaches to him, her firm little tits tipped with pale pink

nipples and her ample ass and - fuck - her dripping wet cunt...

But she was more than the sum of those things. Absurdly, unbelievably, she was even better.

Therefore, he also had to be better than he was. She deserved it. She deserved everything

.

He went to check the windows and doors one more time.

The clock on the wall said 5.30. Only thirty more minutes.

His palms were just a little sweaty.

***

I lifted my fist into the air, inhaled, exhaled, and finally rapped my knuckles against the wood. Long seconds ticked by in which I thought I might have knocked too softly to be heard inside, but then - finally - his voice rang out.

"Come in."

I opened the door just wide enough to slip inside and let it fall back into the lock. The sound was dull in the low-ceilinged room.

He was the first thing I saw.

I suspected that he would always be the first thing I saw when I entered into a room, no matter if it was crowded with people, or, like this one, empty except for him and sparsely furnished with a large office table, two chairs and a little rolling file cabinet.

He had somehow become more handsome and more attractive since yesterday. His clothes were neat as a pin and emphasized his male form, the wide shoulders and strong pectorals, and only added to the air of authority I found simultaneously frightening and irresistible.

His eyes took in every square inch of me. I felt like he could see every small hair that was standing on end, and possibly even the gleam of sweat that dotted my forehead.

I had almost been late. My empirical social research professor had spontaneously relocated the lecture to another building and then let it run long. I had to power-walk all the way to the admin building - which had earned me many bewildered glances (

or maybe, probably, they were all looking at you like that because they could see that you weren't wearing a bra, or panties-

) - and then almost had a little panic attack when I couldn't find the staircase to get down into the basement right away.

I didn't want to ask the guards that sat in their little booth by the door. I didn't want them to know I was even there.

I knew full well that was crazy. Unsafe, irresponsible and dangerous.

This -

he

- was the first vaguely crazy, remotely unsafe, even slightly irresponsible or dangerous I had

ever

done in my life. Stupid as it was, I wanted him all to myself, and I wanted

myself

all for

him

, more than I wanted to be safe or irresponsible right now.

He looked me over as I stood in my sensibly flat shoes, my legs clad in my favorite pearly-white panty hose, and a dark navy blue dress whose swishy hem fell down to just above my knees.

I had put make-up on and artfully done my hair this morning, then stared at myself in the mirror for full five minutes because I hardly recognized the person there. Then I taken it all off and brushed the hairspray out again. I couldn't undo the shaving of my legs and in my armpits, though. I was regretting the latter - I'd never felt as excessively pit-sweaty in my life as I had today.

"Good evening," I started. God, my tongue was dry as sand.

"Good evening, Miss Wilkinson," he replied politely. He glanced at the clock that ticked away at the opposite side of the wall. "Just in the nick of time."

I huffed a relieved "yes" and couldn't help a smile.

"Lock the door for me, will you?"

The key was in the keyhole.

I reached out and turned it. I turned it all the way.

When I turned back towards him, he was smiling softly. Then his smile turned darker.

"Shall we begin?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

Please.

***

I crossed my legs a little tighter and cleared my throat. The piece of paper in my hand shook just a little.

"'The purpose of this additional security check is to definitively ensure the safety and health of all campus attendees, including that of the searched party - henceforth 'I' and 'me', Miss Isobel Sofia Wilkinson, 23'," I read the form out loud.

The pen in my other hand felt cold, or maybe my palms were just hot.

"'I understand that this additional security procedure is justified by my less than exemplary behavior at yesterday's security check at the campus library main entrance.'"

I couldn't help but bristle. I had

never

been less than exemplary at anything in my whole life. It was stupid, but it still stung a little.

"Do you want me to elaborate on this point?" he asked when I was silent for a longer moment. "We can recapitulate in detail-"

"No!" I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. If he were to start recounting yesterday's events - in detail, no less - I would probably die right here. My heart was already beating a mile a minute. "No, that won't be necessary, I think."

I ducked my head and quickly kept on reading before he changed his mind.

"'I have agreed to take part in this procedure because...'" I trailed off. There was an empty line.

"Would you care to fill in the blank, please?" he asked when I just kept staring at that blank.

Because I wanted to.

Because it pleases you.

Because the idea alone kept me so fucking

wet tonight I almost-

"Because I want to prove my innocence once and for all," I said aloud and promptly jotted down the words. The ballpoint scratched against the paper.

He propped an elbow up on the table, pressed his knuckles to his mouth and said nothing.

I cleared my throat and kept reading.

"'I am aware that, if I agree to take part in this security check, I will be asked to comply with any and all of the directives given by the executive officer in attendance-'" I glanced at the 'executive officer in attendance' but he just watched me silently. "'-to the best of my abilities. I am aware that a most thorough examination will be performed'

,"

I continued,

"

'and that

...

'

...

uhm...

"

"Keep going, Miss Wilkinson."

He managed to smirk without moving a muscle.

"

'And that... I may be required to undress, completely or partially, to offer the officer for inspection, including sensitive areas such as my chest, my backside, and my pubic area.'

"

I cleared my throat again. Doing it was one thing. Saying it was another.

"'I am aware that this examination entails a detailed cavity search of all my major ori-- orifices, namely my oral, vaginal, and anal cavity.'"

Holy mother of...

I looked up at him. "May I have a sip of water, please?"

He slid the tall, half-filled glass closer to me and gestured an invitation with his hand. I took several long gulps and didn't miss how he stared at my working throat, or at the drop that escaped from the corner of my mouth and fell onto my dress, just over my left breast.

"'I am—' Uhm. 'I am aware that, in the course of this cavity search, aforementioned cavities may be... penetrated'... uh... 'digitally or with... adequate... instruments... which are designed for and approved for this procedure.'"

Oh my God, did he mean...? I bit my lip.

He shifted in his seat.

"Miss Wilkinson, please."

He sounded almost as impatient and tortured as I felt. Almost.

I quickly continued to get it over with. My face felt like a furnace.

"'I am aware that, in the course of the procedures, there may be moments of personal or physical discomfort. I am aware that it is my absolute duty to inform the officer of such at any given moment without hesitation. Appropriate steps will be taken by the officer to ensure a... satisfactory completion of the security check.'"

Satisfactory. Completion. I licked my lips.

"'I am aware that I may abort the security check at any time for any given reason. I am aware that the officer may abort the security check at any time for any given reason. I understand that no recordings of any kind are made before, during or after the security check. I understand that this form will be kept entirely confidential by the executive officer.'"

A warmth suffused me and I took a deep breath, expelling a small amount of the nervous tension that sat in my neck.

"'I understand that this is a closed session. It will last until 10pm at the most.'"

Four hours. The warmth flared up into a red-hot flame. Four whole hours. I clicked the pen twice, suddenly almost bursting with impatience.

"'I have understood this declaration of consent in its entirety.'"

I stared at the form for a short while. My eyes got caught again and again by the words 'vaginal' and 'anal', and by the phrase 'penetrated digitally or with adequate instruments'.

"Do you have any questions, Isobel?" he asked me when my silence stretched on.

I wanted to ask about the adequate instruments, but I also didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

So I ended up saying, "There is nothing about my bra in here", and signed on the dotted line, then slid the form with the ballpoint pen on top of it toward him.

Again he smirked while still keeping a straight face. It was all in his eyes.

"Don't worry about that, Miss," he said. "You will get your bra back soon enough."

"But-" I pouted just a little.

"Stand up, please."

He had also got to his feet and came around the rather large office table towards me. On his way there, he took the now empty glass of water and the cup full of stationery which I had plucked the pen from and put both onto a small chest of drawers on wheels, out of the way.

That made me sit up.

Why did the table need to be cleared?

Which things could happen on a cleared table this big?

"Up," he repeated somewhat harshly, and I snapped up onto my feet.

He pulled the chair I had sat on far out of the way, clearing the space around me for himself.

"Miss Wilkinson, I cannot help but notice that you seem to have paid considerable attention to your outfit today. Would you say that that is correct?"

So he liked my dress? I tried hard not to smile in triumph.

"I guess so?" I answered and blinked at him with extra wide eyes. He stood beside me, not an arm's length away.

I could smell his soap.

Fuck, I wanted him closer. Much closer.

"I have, specifically, taken note of the very... fashionable legwear you have donned today."

I had to stifle a giggle at the big words. "Why,

thank

you. It's my favorite panty hose, actually."

He set his feet carefully, almost subtly, until I had to turn my head just to keep him in the corner of my eye.

"Would you care to repeat what I told you yesterday, Miss Wilkinson?" he asked, "Specifically in regards to your wearing a panty hose to this appointment?"

I pressed my lips together to fight against an even bigger smile.

"Uhm, no." I shrugged and blinked at him with big eyes. "I am terribly sorry. Would you be so kind as to repeat it for me?"

Oh, how his eyes sparkled. He loved this, I was sure. He loved it when I gave him a reason to be stern.

"Oh,

now

you need repetition, do you?" He glowered. "I just asked you five minutes ago whether you would like to go over yesterday's events once more and you said 'no'."

"I'm

sorry

," I said again, still fighting the smile. "I sometimes simply don't remember details..."

"

I

remember quite clearly," he said low, leaning in closer and closer, "that I told you not to wear your panty hose."

He stepped closer to me until his chest pressed against my shoulder and upper arm, big and solid and warm.

I wondered if he had chest hair. I wondered if his nipples were as sensitive as mine. I wondered if I would ever have the guts to ask him, or to just find out.

For a heated second I thought he would kiss me on the cheek. Instead, he leaned forward just enough to reach the cup full of stationery he had placed on the adjacent chest of drawers, and plucked from it the pair of silver crafting scissors. It gleamed in the ceiling lights, its blades at least twice as long as its handle.

"I told you that if you did wear one, I would use it to tie your ankles to this table." He waited just long enough to hear the tremble in my exhalation. "Now keep your eyes front and stay still."

Taking the scissors with him, he disappeared from my line of sight as he stepped fully behind me.

I would never get used to the thrill of having him behind me, of him lying in ambush for me. It wasn't a feeling of serious fear, not even now that he was literally armed with a deadly weapon, but something much sweeter, heady and hot.

"Oh, right!" I said with gushing innocence. My cheeks heated with a weird mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "I seem to have a vague recollection of you mentioning that."

"'Vague'. Is that so?"

He came closer. The floor creaked gently under his shoes. My entire back started to prickle.

"One would think that a promise like that, phrased like it was, would be hard to forget." His voice turned a little scathing. "Is this a common occurrence for you, then - men telling you they would tie your legs to furniture?"

I shrugged one shoulder and clicked my tongue. "I'm a scatterbrain sometimes. I guess I just need to be told things twice."

"She needs to be told twice," he said as if to himself. "I see."

"Well, if my pantyhose poses a serious problem, I can just-" I began, bending my knees, leaning my upper body forward and sticking out my backside, making a move to reach underneath my dress and quickly push down the pantyhose.

Close as he was standing to me, my ass bumped into his groin, and I could feel his erection through the deplorably numerous layers of fabric that separated us.

"No," he interrupted me, and I halted mid-sentence as well as mid-movement, with my left buttock trapping his hard cock against his own thigh.

"No, that's not quite what I had in mind," he said and pumped his hips forward once, twice, three times. His voice took on a strangely distant note. I imagined him standing there, mesmerized by the sight of my ripe, round ass pressed up to his tented crotch.

Was he thinking about fucking me from behind? Imagining how his cock would look like disappearing between my ass cheeks?

I knew I was.

I bit my tongue. My thighs trembled a little with the effort of staying statue-still in this position.

He eventually stepped back half a step, making me sway on my feet, reached down to grab the hem of my dress and flicked it up to my lower back, exposing my ass. I gasped at the feeling of cold air against my butt. Sweat broke out of my pores for the second time today.

"Hold still," he said as he hooked a finger into the elastic at the top of my panty hose and pulled it off my lower back.

My hands shot forward and my palms slapped onto the table top for support when the cold touch of metal against my skin almost made me jump. The rippling, slicing sound of scissors followed, and the snug tension of the elastic around my waist suddenly eased with a snap.

"But-" I put up some token protest.

"Hold still, and be quiet," he barked. The blunt outer edge of the scissor blade glided down along my right buttock, just a centimeter to the right of my ass crack.

He took his time, parting the delicate nylon with endless patience. It tickled so bad I mewled, especially when he arrived at the lower curve where I was especially sensitive, but the sound immediately died in my throat when the metal edge brushed against my pussy lips from behind. It felt like being licked there by a small, ice-cold tongue.

"If I have to tell you to hold still and be quiet a

third

time, Miss Scatterbrain, I swear I will spank your ass until it's as red as a cherry," he snarled at me.

My legs were trembling like a flower and his words weren't helping. Still, I hushed a "Sorry", locked my knees, bit my lips and focused my eyes on a tiny spot on the wall so that he could continue cutting along the seam of my pussy without nicking my skin.

He drew the ordeal out as long as humanly possible and pressed the cool shears up into my clit on purpose, I was sure. Just to see if I could stay still for him.

"Good girl," he cooed when he was done cutting the hose from behind and below, and I exhaled.

"Now stand up tall, feet apart, and pull your dress up for me at the front, like you did so beautifully yesterday," he commanded. "I'm guessing you won't have forgotten

that

." I

sure haven't,

he didn't have to add.

I stood like he wanted me to, even as the shredded panty hose trickled sliding down my ass, and lifted the skirts of my dress up to my belly button.

Both his arms came around me and I wanted nothing more than to sink backwards into him. But he had told me to stand up tall and not move, so I did.

I watched as he, very carefully nicked the elastic band of my pantyhose, which already hung in loose frills due to having been snipped in the back, with the scissors. Then, he put the scissors on the table and reached down between my thighs with both of his hands. Deeper than would have been necessary.

His fingers slid along the sensitive insides of my thighs and his thumbs grazed my pussy. My mouth fell open on a sigh at that brief, heartbreakingly fleeting contact, and my pelvis tilted of its own accord to give him easier access, to invite him, plead him for just a bit more-

He caught the cut ends of my panty hose in his fingers and ripped them apart the rest of the way, until the tear he had cut into them from below and the nick in the elastic at the front joined up. The hose, now split in two like a pair of very long stockings, fell apart entirely. The heavier elastic was pulled by gravity and the nylons peeled themselves halfway down my thighs, tickling my hairs there, most of their tension lost.

Baring my pussy and ass to the air, and to him.

"Stay like that," he ordered as if he knew full well that I yearned to drop the front of my skirt and cover up my recently complete nakedness.

He knelt behind me, close enough for his forehead to graze my buttocks, and guided one loosening hose the rest of the way down my left leg with ticklish fingers. His fingertips whispered along the back of my thigh, the hollow and the side of my knee, down the sides of my calf and to my ankle, then slid first my shoe and then the material off my foot which I lifted for him.