Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What… what do you want me to say?”
His smile was cold and predatory. “I want you to beg me to fuck you, Heather. I want you to ask for exactly what your body is craving, what it’s been craving all along.”
“Never,” I gasped, trying to pull against the restraints. “I’ll never beg for that. I won’t.”
“Oh, but you will,” Dr. Hamelin said with complete certainty. “Your husband has given me explicit permission to use whatever methods I deem necessary. In fact, Ryan may very well be watching us right now through the monitoring system.”
The thought that Ryan might be seeing this, might be watching me spread open and helpless, sent a jolt of humiliation and arousal through me that I couldn’t suppress. My newly bare pussy felt impossibly exposed, and I could feel myself getting wetter despite my protests.
“He consented to let you be fucked as much as we decide you need to be fucked,” Dr. Hamelin continued, moving the vibrator closer to my exposed flesh. “So you see, Heather, this isn’t about what you want or don’t want. This is about accepting what you are.”
The vibrator touched my clit, and I cried out at the sudden sensation. It was gentle at first, almost teasing, but the effect was immediate and devastating.
“Oh… oh, God…” I whimpered. I struggled in the restraints, but the feeling of helplessness only made my hips buck, my pussy try to push against the delicious buzzing. “Oh, no.”
CHAPTER 7
Ryan
I sat in my home office, staring at the Selecta Solutions portal on my laptop screen. The house felt impossibly quiet without Heather—no sound of her moving around upstairs, no background noise from the TV she always left on. Just silence and the weight of what I’d done.
The monitoring system dashboard showed a live feed indicator from the facility. My cursor hovered over the link. Mrs. Chen had mentioned I could observe Heather’s initial assessment if I chose to, that many husbands found it helpful to understand their wives’ true nature.
I clicked the link before I could second-guess myself.
The video feed opened to show a sterile medical examination room. My breath caught in my throat as I saw Heather on the examination table, naked and restrained, her legs spread wide in stirrups. A man in a white coat—Dr. Hamelin, according to the caption—was positioned between her legs, holding something that it took me a long moment to recognize, simply because it seemed so out of keeping with the clinical situation.
The low hum coming from that direction, easily perceptible over the excellent audio feed, made the device’s nature undeniable, though. It was a small vibrator. The doctor had begun to stimulate Heather’s pussy, which I now registered for the first time as having been shaved. My cock gave a leap along my thigh at the lewd sight of my wife’s private parts, bare and spread; the kind of view of her I’d always craved, but she’d always professed herself too modest to allow.
“Jesus,” I whispered, my hand moving instinctively to cover my mouth. This wasn’t what I’d expected. This wasn’t couples counseling or communication therapy. This was something else entirely.
I had absolutely no urge to look away, though. My rational mind had shrunk back a little, simply out of my instinctive regard for convention. The deeper, more authentic part of me—the part I’d been trying to suppress for months—was transfixed.
More, the essential rightness of Heather’s vulnerable, exposed position became more apparent to me by the second. Her lovely face had grown flushed with obvious arousal despite her clear distress at being revealed that way. I could even see the way her hips moved against the restraints, as if her shaven pussy were desperate for more.
“Tell me what you really want, Heather,” Dr. Hamelin’s voice came through the speakers, calm and authoritative. “Tell me what you think about in that shower every morning. Ask me to give it to you.”
My cock hardened further, until I had to shift in my chair, as I watched my wife struggle against the examination table. The sound she made when the vibrator touched her—a desperate, needy whimper—sent heat straight to my balls. I’d never heard her make that sound before, not in all our months of marriage.
“I don’t—” Heather’s voice was breathless, strained. “I don’t want anything.”
“Your body says otherwise,” Dr. Hamelin replied, and I watched him adjust the vibrator’s position. Heather’s back arched, a cry escaping her lips that was part protest, part pleasure.
I found myself leaning closer to the screen, my breath coming faster. A stray thought tried to work its way into my brain—that this was wrong, that I should stop watching, should call them and tell them to stop. But I didn’t move, didn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of my wife being systematically broken in for my pleasure.