Erica Rivers moaned to herself, whispering something nearly inaudible.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She was panting now, letting her body succumb to the motions of her palm against her clitoris.
"Wait, what did she say right there?" Aaron Abrahams asked.
"'Fuck, fuck, fuck'?" Vijay Patel answered, somewhat baffled as to how Aaron could have missed Erica's repeated expletive.
"No," Aaron sighed. "Before."
The twenty-two-year-old leaned forward over his colleague's shoulder, punched a few buttons, and watched as his boss's writhing image rewound on the monitor.
"Right here," he announced, releasing the button. The digital recording, captured the evening before in the Bullpen, began moving forward once again. And Erica, dripping wet and shaking with lust, began touching herself once again.
She grunted.
Aaron increased the volume.
"Yes," Erica breathed, "in my ass. Put it in my ass."
"Jesus." Vijay's jaw dropped.
"I knew I heard something," the other research assistant smiled to himself as the naked girl's vulgar profanity repeated itself in the background.
Vijay shook his head. "I've watched this six times this morning. I hadn't caught that."
"So, does she do it?" Aaron asked the Indian man, careful not to take his eyes off the monitor, off his boss finger-fucking herself into oblivion. "I mean, what she's asking for."
"No, no." Vijay sounded disappointed. "But we now know what she was fantasizing about."
On screen, Erica was dropping to the floor, calling out to God in absolute carnal pleasure.
She lay on the floor of the shower smiling, seemingly oblivious to anything but the aftermath of her own orgasm. It was as if she had forgotten where she was. It was as if she had forgotten that Wendy Milne was watching her from the far side of the Bullpen's mirror glass. It was as if she had forgotten that her every move was being recorded by the TW emitters. It was as if she had forgotten that every minute of her captivity was available for playback on any of her research assistants' computers back in the lab.
Little did Aaron or Vijay realize that it was precisely that line of thinking that had Erica smiling. She was a dirty girl. A naughty girl. And those thoughts only turned her on that much more.
"You haven't seen anything yet," Vijay announced as he leaned forward over his computer.
Flipping the fast-forward button, the two research assistants watched as Erica's chest heaved rapidly beneath the falling water. She stood. The water went off. She dried herself. And, in ultra-fast motion, their naked boss went through the rest of her evening.
As the clock on the recording flew from hour to hour to hour, Vijay looked up at Aaron. "If anything, it got even hotter last night."
***
Just once.
They'd understand.
Just once.
At least, that's what Erica had told herself beneath the shower.
That evening, hours after she'd reached her orgasm, and hours before Vijay and Aaron called up the incident on Vijay's computer, Erica began crying in the corner of the Bullpen. Everything hit her at once. Her captivity. Her nudity. Her depravity.
The girl had been lost in the moment beneath the shower, and touching herself to wash had quickly become touching herself to touch herself. She had been hopped-up on her own artificial hormones, only partially aware of the consequences of her actions. At that moment in time, she had done what had felt right, what had turned her on, what would finally provide her with the release she'd been craving all week.
Had Wendy seen Erica toying with her nipples? Had Wendy watched as she repeatedly thrust her middle finger into her cunt? Had Wendy heard her grunt and scream in genital ecstasy?
At the time, the thought of someone else's eyes on Erica's body had only excited Erica more. Now, she was mortified at the display.
Wendy had, of course, seen the entire thing. It was the technician's job to watch Erica's vital signs and signal strength from five in the afternoon to one in the morning. The guinea pig knew that her observer had observed.
But Wendy had suggested that Erica get herself off, that Erica "pet her kitty." Wendy had assured her that people already knew of her arousal, and that the others would understand if the girl masturbated. The peroxide blonde had pushed her and pushed her, incapable of understanding that just talking about the subject made Erica uncomfortable. They had fought over it, and Erica had assured her minder that she, Dr. Erica Danielle Rivers, had self-control.
But that self-control had failed her, and Wendy's line of thinking had won out. Erica would masturbate just once. People would understand. Just once, to clear her head, and then move on.
The technician hadn't said anything since Erica's shower, and Erica desperately hoped it would remain that way. She didn't need to be reminded of her actions. She didn't need to have Wendy gloat about being right. She didn't need to talk about what she had done.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the act had cleared Erica's head. Beforehand, she had longed to think about anything aside from her own lust. But now, in the self-possessed hours after her climax, Erica yearned for the hormonal daze that had preceded.
Wendy Milne had watched her masturbate. Wendy Milne, with her dyed hair, her nose piercing, her ear piercings, and her excessive makeup. Wendy Milne, with whom Erica had been somewhat uncomfortable being around during the primate stages of her deuterotone experiments. Wendy Milne, who thought nothing of discussing her own sex life with complete strangers, and therefore would probably think nothing of discussing Erica's with fellow colleagues.
And Wendy was only the beginning. Tomorrow morning, Noah Forsythe would call up Erica's data and notice a spike. Increase in breathing rate. Increase in blood pressure. Increase in heart rate. Dilation of her pupils. And then, after a period of muscle tensing and vaginal contractions, her breathing rate would decrease. Her blood pressure and heart rate would decrease. Erica herself had seen the changes in Trixie's charts. Noah would know what she had done with once glance at the chart.
The lab assistants, all of whom were her junior in age and experience. They all had access to the Bullpen footage. They could all call up her little show for them in the lab, or in their own private offices. Behind closed doors, Vijay Patel could potentially masturbate as he watched Erica on screen.
Hannah, her friend. Natalie, her mentor. Bill Forrester, her boss.
Erica couldn't believe what she had done. As if stripping naked in front of everyone in her life wasn't quite degrading enough, she had managed to take her humiliation to another level. She wouldn't be able to look at any of them for months.
Just once. She had wanted her release just once.
And Erica had certainly gotten what she had so badly needed. Never in her life had she ever achieved an orgasm like the one beneath the shower. Half lost in the fantasy of fucking both her boyfriend and her friend, but fully aware of potential audience back in the real world, Erica had reached an apex like none other.
Even now, as the shame took hold and the realities set in, Erica couldn't deny the warmth that had enveloped her body, and continued to radiate out from the center of her body. So powerful was the final orgasm that the dark-haired girl felt as if it had happened minutes, and now hours before.
Erica wiped the tears from her eyes. Wendy had watched her before, and was watching her now. Honestly, the scientist felt as if she would have preferred the technician watch her diddle herself than watch her cry.
It had only been once. Erica had masturbated, and now Erica could move on.
***
Or so she thought.
Erica had tried to go sleep at ten, eager to put the day's events behind her. But falling asleep, never easy on the hard tiles of the Bullpen's floor, was impossible that Saturday night. In the five hours since the incident, Erica hadn't been able to think about anything but the shower. And, as five hours turned into six, and then seven, the girl became more and more frustrated at not being able to fall asleep.
The self-loathing hadn't gone away, but it had been joined by a return of the girl's libido. If anything, feeding her hunger that afternoon had only made the beast stronger, and the symptoms of Erica's lust soon returned. Her nipples were as hard as diamonds. Her clit was fully erect, and throbbing torturously. And her pussy was so moist that Erica could actually feel her own juices trickle down the inside of her leg as she lay on the floor.
The fog of her excitement was the only thing that hadn't accompanied this onset of arousal. She was as excited, yes – if anything, perhaps more so. But Erica wasn't as drunk on sexual frustration as she had been beneath the shower. She was fully aware of her surroundings, and painfully aware of her own body. Wendy was on the far side of the glass. Others had access to video recordings. And while the act of masturbating twice in a single day would be degrading, the thought of doing so only turned Erica on that much more.
For hours, as she lay on the floor tossing and turning, she had told herself that once had been enough. People might understand once. Erica, did, after all, need a release. Going five weeks without any sort of sexual activity would have been irritating under normal circumstances, but doing so while one's body chemistry was raging with adolescent hormones seemed cruel.
They'd understand once. But twice? In a single evening?
It would certainly raise some eyebrows.
Was it Erica? Was it psychological? Was she getting off on having people see her naked? Was she getting off on having people watch her play with herself? Was she an exhibitionist?
