The Examiner

**Contains themes of resistance and non-consent.

***

He enters the room and closes the door without looking back. My heart immediately jumps in my chest, he's so strikingly handsome: dark hair, defined features, tall, and fit. I can't seem to control my nerves. His mouth is moving, I realize, but I haven't caught a single word.

"Get undressed and lay down for me. Take your time, there's no rush. I'll be back in when you've finished."

Shit. I knew this was coming. And yet I'm shocked, paralyzed and unable to move from my chair in the corner of the small examination room. I stare at the blank walls instead while hoping if I wish it enough, I'll disappear entirely and escape this humiliation altogether. A knock on the door jars me out of my reverie.

"Um, uh, I'm not quite ready yet. Sorry," I stutter.

The shoes I can see vaguely standing on the other side turn and walk away. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. No time for vacant stares - he'll be back soon, I'm sure. My hands tremble as I slowly slip my thumbs under the waistband of my jeans and pull them to the floor. The fitting black shirt I'm wearing comes off next, followed by my bra, and, finally, my underwear. I rush to fold and situate it all on the chair behind me when I hear another knock.

"One moment, almost done!"

It comes out almost a squeak. I'm so fucking nervous. The exam table is cool and unforgiving when I slide myself on and swing my legs up. My hands are reaching for the flimsy white paper cover as the third knock arrives, this one sterner than the previous two. He doesn't wait long but walks right in after a moment.

"That won't be necessary," he says nonchalantly nodding toward the white sheet I'm adjusting on my lap with one hand as the other fruitlessly tries to cover my breasts. His back turns and he pulls out a tray from one of the many drawers lining the far wall. I don't register his comment. My hands are shaking even worse now and I can't help but continue my attempts at modesty. I don't see him approach the exam table in my anxious distraction. When I jump at his sudden appearance, he places a firm hand on the small of my back.

"Just relax for me, sweetie. You're okay, just relax. Breathe for me," he coos.

I feel my muscles release ever so slightly. Breath in, out. In. Out. That's all I have to do. I'm so caught up in breathing, I don't notice his hand pushing the white covering aside until it's gone, and I'm completely exposed before him. He gently grips my arm, moving it to my side to uncover me even more. I jerk in a vain attempt to cover back up, but his hand gives no traction for my disobedience.

"You're gonna be okay, darling. I won't hurt you. Be a good girl and lay down now," his voice soothes me into compliance. I lay back slowly. My legs cross instinctively as do my arms; he can't see me like this. I can't let him. "No more of this," he chides. His strong arms collect my wrists in a single motion and loop them through restraints at the head of the table. In an instant, I'm trapped. My arms lie bound above my head with no where to go. Yet, somehow, I'm comforted by the restriction. I feel my muscles relax completely for him.

"Good girl, that's it," he praises me, "I won't need to bind your legs, too, now will I?" His eyes meet mine in a piercing stare. For the first time, I'm compelled to speak.

"No, sir. I'll be good," I practically whisper. He smiles back at me and a warmth fills my chest, moving down straight between my legs until I can feel myself becoming embarrassingly wet. My legs begin to spread, ever so slightly for him.

"What a good girl, that's it," he encourages. His praises work on me again and I comply without resisting as he spreads my legs wide. I feel his fingers spread my lips and run along my slit.

"Look how wet you are," he states with a grin. My cheeks turn a deep red and I close my eyes to avoid his knowing smile. "That's okay, sweetie, I'm sure this feels good, doesn't it?" his words flood my senses, his fingers now rubbing my clit in circles. A moan escapes my mouth before I can stop it. I'm humiliated beyond belief. He responds by rubbing the inside of my thighs with his free hand.

"You're not to cum without permission, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I barely manage before another moan takes over my entire body. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to that sweet release. He inserts a finger, then two. They curve upward and massage me. God, it feels so good. I'm at a loss to control myself. Moans escape my lips again and again. There's no containing it anymore, he's won. And he knows it.

"That's right, what a good girl. Spread yourself more for me," he commands. I open myself further without a second thought. His sensual onslaught continues for what seems like hours, although I'm sure its only a few minutes. Then I feel the hand rubbing my thighs run down my legs instead and graze my sensitive feet. I try my best not to move for him but fail miserably. Each torturous movement on my soles makes me squirm away from him in a subconscious effort to escape. Without looking up he scolds me to keep still. But how can I?

"Please, please," I beg, unsure whether I'm asking him to stop or give me more. "I can't, I can't keep still, please," my pleading continues. He shakes his head in obvious disappointment and pulls out more restraints. "No!" I screech, "I'll be good, I'm sorry, please no! You don't have to; I promise I'll be good!"

He doesn't respond other than to stretch each leg and tie them to the edges of the table. Panic fills my mind within seconds. My legs pull against their bindings again and again, unable to accept their new positions. I shake my head back and forth in nonsensically attempts to shake away the situation. He notices my dread and I see his face soften ever so slightly.

"Shhhh," he calms me, "let go, it's easier that way. Let it happen."

Something clicks in my head and my legs go limp.

"Good girl," he speaks softly and slowly, "very good girl."

I give in, even more this time than the first. What else can I do? There's no where to run, no way to hide. His fingers inside of me keep up their tender assault while his other hand returns to my now helpless feet.

"Thank you, sir," I say without knowing I've let the words fall from my mouth. How humiliating! Thanking him for torturing me so. But my embarrassment only deepens this state I'm in. He smiles back at me and simultaneously moves both hands faster; I'm pushed over the edge I didn't know I was teetering on. "Please," I cry before my self-control gives out and I cum all over his fingers. I realize half-way through I haven't properly asked for permission. Fuck. I try to placate him with endless apologies to no avail. He promptly pulls out a circular gag, meant to keep my mouth open for him. Resigned to his control, I lay still and open wide while he fits it into place. I deserve this, after all. I'm the one who broke the rules.

He turns to the tray on the counter. Despite straining my head, I can't quite see what he's grabbed. Within moments, I can't see at all. He's blindfolded me and I'm lost in the nothingness.

"Only good girls get to watch," he tells me, "and you misbehaved, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," I mumble through the gag, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's okay sweetie - but you'll have to be punished."

He runs his fingers through my hair to comfort me. I lean into his touch and feel him cup my chin ever so gently. My mouth tries to form a frown as he pulls away, but I don't protest. A moment passes without him making his next move. I begin to fidget in anticipation, unsure, afraid. Then I feel it: his tongue on me. First across my inner thighs, and then lightly upon my lips. I melt in front of him; my defenses collapsed and my mind soaring in ecstasy. He teases me with his teeth before sucking on my clit. His tongue flicks back and forth. This time I know to ask for what I need.

"May I please cum, sir?" I slur.

"Not yet. Hold it." My eyes pop open only to realize I still can't see. I had forgotten about the blindfold; it only makes me need to cum more urgently.

"Please! Please, sir! I'm sorry for misbehaving. Please let me cum!" I'm almost yelling by now, but it all comes out garbled. My control won't last much longer. I know I'm moments away from disobeying him yet again. And the second before I erupt, he pulls away. My arms and legs yank against the bindings, seeking out the smallest touch to send me over that edge again. But he's backed away too far. I can feel his eyes on me though I can't see them; he's waiting for me to calm myself. The intense feeling finally dies down; a dull longing replaces it only adding to my feelings of defeat. My limbs go slack again, and I whimper through the gag.

"You're done," he speaks through a smirk. "This is punishment enough."