Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I obeyed, applying slight pressure against my opening. It felt completely different from the touch of the nurse’s hands, let alone the speculum. The sensation was electric—a sharp, forbidden pleasure that made my hips buck involuntarily against my other hand.
“That’s it,” the nurse murmured, her voice making the scene all the more mortifying. “The sensor is registering significant arousal response.”
I whimpered softly as I continued to touch myself, one hand working between my legs while the other pressed experimentally against my rear entrance. The dual stimulation felt overwhelming, building a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
“Push your fingertip inside,” came the next instruction.
I hesitated only briefly before complying, gently pressing until the tip of my finger slipped past the tight ring. The intrusion felt strange, forbidden—and undeniably exciting. My body responded with a rush of wetness between my legs that made me moan despite myself.
“Imagine your sponsor’s penis there,” Nurse Georges said. “Thick and demanding, stretching you open. You have a very attractive bottom, Audrey. He will have sex with you there as soon as he can, I imagine.”
CHAPTER 4
Pierre
The news about the threat to the Parisian power grid—thankfully foiled, it appeared—had absorbed me all morning. I’d been deep in conference calls with energy ministers and security officials, using the clout granted by my heavy investment in Selecta’s European expansion to good effect.
The megacorp, for its own part, seemed to have decided to wield its considerable influence to ensure stability and continuity. Energy represented one of their core businesses, after all, and disruptions were bad for profits. I had taken some heat from my peers, after placing such a large bet on the American company’s foray into France, but this averted crisis seemed to have proven me correct.
I was reviewing the preliminary cybersecurity report concerning the virus that had almost taken down the grid when my Selecta Arrangements app, of all things, pinged with an alert. Usually, I ignored these during business hours—the constant notifications about potential matches could wait until evening—but in what I supposed was a slightly Pavlovian way, I always felt my cock stir a little at the distinctive chime the SA app employed.
This time, my manhood practically jumped along my thigh. Something about the intellectual arousal I’d felt with regard to the idea that Paris had almost been brought to her knees by a cyberattack seemed to have primed me for excitement in a more pleasurable direction. The security report could wait; I glanced at the screen.
First Intimacy Qualification Examination in Progress. Subject: Audrey Campbell.
My finger hovered over the notification. First Intimacy candidates were rare enough to warrant attention, especially ones who had passed the initial screening algorithms. The app included a live feed option for examinations—a feature I rarely utilized, finding most medical procedures rather tedious.
But something about the name triggered my curiosity. Audrey Campbell. American, by the sound of it. I tapped the notification, and my screen filled with the live feed from one of Selecta’s medical examination rooms.
The sight that greeted me made my breath catch. A young woman was positioned on the examination table, facing away from the camera, her slender body bent forward in perfect submission, her rounded bottom elevated. One hand worked between her legs while the other… I leaned forward slightly, my interest immediately piqued. Her delicate finger was pressing against her anus as a woman captioned with the name Nurse Georges observed clinically.
“Imagine your sponsor’s penis there,” the nurse was saying. “Thick and demanding, stretching you open. You have a very attractive bottom, Audrey. He will have sex with you there as soon as he can, I imagine.”
I felt my own rush of heat at the nurse’s words and the girl’s visible response—a shudder that ran through her entire body, the way her hips moved against her hand. Even from this mid-range camera angle, I could see she was beautifully formed—small, firm breasts, a narrow waist, and a perfectly rounded bottom now on display as she pleasured herself under instruction.
The biometric data scrolling along the side of my screen confirmed what was visually apparent: this young woman had an exceptionally strong submissive response pattern. Her arousal metrics were nearly off the chart, despite—or perhaps because of—the clinical humiliation of the examination.
I found myself leaning closer to the screen, watching as her movements became more urgent, her breathing more ragged. The camera caught the flush spreading across her skin, the trembling in her thighs as she approached climax.
“You may orgasm now,” Nurse Georges instructed dispassionately.
As if her body had been waiting for permission, the girl shuddered violently, a muffled cry escaping her as pleasure overwhelmed her. The biometric readings spiked dramatically, confirming the intensity of her response.
“Monsieur?” my secretary said, from the doorway of my office. “You have a call from the energy minister.”
“Thank you, Yves,” I told him. I glanced at my handheld again and saw that a banner had appeared at the bottom of the screen.