This is ‘Inspection’ – part one of a 2-part story written and read by Molly Moore. Note that this fantasy has elements of consensual non-consent and coercion, as well as fairly graphic debasement, humiliation and clinical medical play.
“Open your mouth.”
I part my lips and drop my jaw. He has his back to me. I hear the sound of the gloves as he pulls them on. Snap. Snap. He turns to face me. His eyes meet mine and then a frown plays across his face.
“Wider,” he says firmly.
I stretch my mouth open. He leans forward slightly and peers into my mouth. He makes a slight hmpf sound. I don’t know if that is good or bad but then he steps in a bit closer and wraps one of the gloved hands round the back of my head and with the other he pushes first one then a second finger into my mouth.
He roots around, running his fingers over my teeth and inside my cheeks then along my tongue. Instinctively I try to pull my head back slightly but he braces his arm and pulls me forward as he slowly slides his fingers deep into my mouth, into my throat. I can feel my eyes start to water. He is slow. Not forcing them in but letting them drift back slowly. I am holding my breath, trying to open my throat, tying so hard not to gag at the intrusion of his gloved fingers. He is looking straight into my eyes. A little smile plays on his lips. He is enjoying this.
When I finally gag he tightens the grip on the back on my neck and holds his fingers there. It feels like ages but it is probably only 3 or 4 seconds then he done. He reaches for a tissue and wipes the saliva from his fingers.
“Did I tell you to shut your mouth?” he asks as he turns back to me again.
This time when he pushes his fingers into my open orifice he tells me to suck. I close my lips round his fingers as I begin to suck on them he pushes them in further and then draws them back out again, He is slowly finger fucking my mouth and I can feel my nipples harden in my bra and little jolt of longing throb between my thighs. I am sure I am blushing. Again that little smile. I feel like he can read my mind.
When he is done he runs his fingers tips across my lips. Coating them with my own saliva. Then he turns back to the table and writes something down.
“Undress please” he doesn’t turn round but continues to write.
“Everything.” there is a pause. Silence. As I absorb when he has said.
“But…. ” I stammer, wanting to protest. ‘Surely he should leave the room for this bit of the inspection,’ I want to say but before I can get the words out he cuts me off,
“Now my dear. I don’t have all day and I would be, shall we say, uncomfortable, if I had to do it for you.”
I don’t know what he means by uncomfortable but I don’t want to find out. All I was told by Him was to come to this address at this time and date for my session, I feel like maybe ‘inspection’ might have been a better word for it but he told me if I wanted to please him then I would need to complete this task.
The man in front of me is stern and direct. I feel like I might have seen him somewhere before but maybe that is me just trying to convince myself he wouldn’t send me to a total stranger for an inspection.
I start to unbutton my shirt. I watch as he continues to write and then reach up onto various shelves and pick things down. I can’t quite see what but there is a slight clank of metal against metal that makes me shudder. When he turns to face me again I am just undoing the last button of my shirt. For a moment our eyes meet. He holds my gaze. His face impassive, a slight tilt of his head as I pause and then a flick of his fingers to encourage me on. I let the shirt slide off my shoulders and my skirt slip down to the floor. Now I am standing there in just my knickers and bra.
“You can put all your clothes on that chair when you done,” he says pointing over to the side. I bend to scoop up my skirt.
“No,” he snaps. “I said, when you are done. By that I mean everything. Now continue.”
The discomfort of having him talk to me like that and his just standing there waiting and watching me as I strip makes my cheeks burn with shame. I want to turn my back, or have him turn away, but he doesn’t. My hands shake slightly as I undo my bra and let it slide down my arms, then I am tugging my knickers over my hips and down my legs until they too pool at my feet along with the skirt.
He appraises me. His eyes traveling slowly from my face down my body and slowly back up again. He flicks his fingers in a twisting motion and I obediently turn for him. It is almost a relief to have my back to him for a moment. To be able to shut out his piercing eyes.
When I finally turn back to face him he has stepped forward and before I know what is happening he is running his hands down across my chest and over my breasts. He has removed the gloves and I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine. He cups my breasts as if he weighing each one and then lets them fall. Next he takes both my nipples between thumb and forefinger. Applying gentle pressure at first. My body reacts to his touch, the skin around my nipples puckers and I bite my lip, breathing slowly. Trying not to make a sound. He increases the pressure, twisting and turning and tugging them up slightly so I find myself rising up on my tip toes. I am just about to cry out when he suddenly lets go.
“Pick up your clothes,” he directs and I can hear his pen scratch away on the paper again as I bundle up my clothes.
He is quick this time and when he turns he reaches out a hand and guides me over towards the curtain that hangs across room. He pulls it back. Behind there is a chair. Or is it a table? It has a cut away semicircle at the base and stirrups for the legs. I eye it with trepidation. I can feel my breath catch as an image of me in the chair, on that table, open and exposed flashes across my mind.
“I don’t think I can do this inspection…..” I stammer.
“Really?” He nods his head slowly as if he understands. “Open your legs.”
“I beg your pardon?” Not expecting this reply but something more along the lines of, ‘well you’d better go then’ or ‘you are free to go if you wish.’
“I said, open your legs.” He holds my gaze. One eyebrow raised.
I find myself doing what he says, shifting from one side to the other until I am standing with them slightly wider than hip width apart.
“Now touch yourself,” he directs.
I let my fingers come to the top of my vulva.
He sighs… “Properly. Put them inside you.”
I close my eyes and do what he says. I can’t look at him.
“Now show me,” he continues.
My fingers glisten under the harsh light. My sticky juices clearly visible.
“As I suspected. Now shall we get on?”
I want to tell him to fuck off. To storm over to the chair grab my clothes and march out of there. All indignant rage at the way he is treating me, the assumptions he is making. Implying I want this. I am enjoying it even. How dare he…
He doesn’t say anything but again there is that smile. He watches my emotions play out across my face.
“Is it that you want me to make you?” He finally asks, “or have you done with your little temper tantrum?”
His arrogance should fire my rage even more but the thought of being made, of him grabbing me as I march to the door, manhandling me onto the table, strapping me down. It almost makes my knees buckle from beneath me with the gut punch of desire it delivers to my core. By the time he finally leads me to the table, I am shaking…
Read (and listen to) the next part of this story – Inspection (part 2): “Subject is clearly aroused.”
If you liked this fabulous inspection you can find more of Molly’s amazing work on her blog, and more sexy stories read aloud over at the audio porn page.