after all. Surely it had some purpose or another. The gyno table was what had me nervous.
For the briefest of moments, I hesitated. Bobby hadn’t mentioned whether I should take off any of my clothes or not, and I didn’t want to earn a worse punishment than I already had. But if they wanted me naked, it would be easy enough for them to get me naked. Especially considering my uniform barely covered anything at all.
I climbed onto the gyno table as I was and took up the position I’d been instructed to take. The stirrups were pulled out wider than I’d ever experienced at the gyno office, leaving my pussy wide open to view for whoever came inside the room to join me. It took a little bit of crafty maneuvering, but once I got my ankles situated in the stirrups (still wearing the four-inch stilettos), it seemed to trigger a restraint system. Steel bands flipped into place, making it impossible to move my ankles at all.
It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, so I lay back and stretched my arms up overhead. After only a second or two, I found similar restraints for my wrists. Another set of steel bands moved into place.
And then the stirrups moved wider, stretching out to the side of the table until I was in a crazy sort of split. At the same time, the bands at my wrists moved back, pulling my arms until my shoulders could feel the strain.
While it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, I didn’t mind too much. I mean, yeah, it left me fully exposed and vulnerable. But… it left me fully exposed and vulnerable . Never in my life would I have thought that was a good thing until I’d accepted the position as the office sexretary, but there you have it. My current position had me so excited I couldn’t stop the flood of juices forming in my sex.
But maybe I was getting ahead of myself.
A curtain sort of thing dropped down from the ceiling, coming to rest on my neck—and effectively blocking my view of anything going on in the room other than the small area where my head and arms were situated.
The door opened but didn’t close. Heavy footsteps moved over the floor toward me—two sets of them footsteps, to be exact. Strong, callused hands came down over my belly, pushing my skimpy top up until it rested by my neck and my breasts were bared to their view. Two more big hands pushed at my skirt until it was bunched at my waist.
Then their mouths were on me. One worked on my breasts, nibbling and suckling on one while he kneaded and molded the other with his big hand. The other knelt between my painfully open thighs and lapped at my pussy, using his tongue and teeth on my clit while his rough fingers delved into my opening.
Within seconds, I was squirming on the gyno table. Within minutes, I was crying out and panting, searching for a release which I knew they wouldn’t grant me. Not yet at least.
I was right. Before I could get to that delightful precipice, they both pulled back. Instead of tongues and teeth on my nipples and clit, I felt the painful bite of clamps settling into place. Clothespins latched onto the tender flesh of my areolas and the fullness of my breasts, so many I lost count long before they stopped putting them on me. Something cold and metal entered my pussy—a speculum?—spreading my opening wider, wider, and still wider.
With the device still holding me open, a long dildo pressed into me through the opening it created. It delved deep, not stopping until it struck against what I assumed to be the very back wall of my cunt. I cried out in shock, which was probably the wrong response as it then moved deeper, putting an odd pressure against my cervix.
Something tugged the clamps connected to my nipples and clit—probably a chain of some sort—and stretched them up high. At the same time, a motor hummed to life and the dildo inside me started to move.
David came around the curtain then on my left side, all six feet and two hundred plus delicious pounds of him, and pulled his
For the briefest of moments, I hesitated. Bobby hadn’t mentioned whether I should take off any of my clothes or not, and I didn’t want to earn a worse punishment than I already had. But if they wanted me naked, it would be easy enough for them to get me naked. Especially considering my uniform barely covered anything at all.
I climbed onto the gyno table as I was and took up the position I’d been instructed to take. The stirrups were pulled out wider than I’d ever experienced at the gyno office, leaving my pussy wide open to view for whoever came inside the room to join me. It took a little bit of crafty maneuvering, but once I got my ankles situated in the stirrups (still wearing the four-inch stilettos), it seemed to trigger a restraint system. Steel bands flipped into place, making it impossible to move my ankles at all.
It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, so I lay back and stretched my arms up overhead. After only a second or two, I found similar restraints for my wrists. Another set of steel bands moved into place.
And then the stirrups moved wider, stretching out to the side of the table until I was in a crazy sort of split. At the same time, the bands at my wrists moved back, pulling my arms until my shoulders could feel the strain.
While it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, I didn’t mind too much. I mean, yeah, it left me fully exposed and vulnerable. But… it left me fully exposed and vulnerable . Never in my life would I have thought that was a good thing until I’d accepted the position as the office sexretary, but there you have it. My current position had me so excited I couldn’t stop the flood of juices forming in my sex.
But maybe I was getting ahead of myself.
A curtain sort of thing dropped down from the ceiling, coming to rest on my neck—and effectively blocking my view of anything going on in the room other than the small area where my head and arms were situated.
The door opened but didn’t close. Heavy footsteps moved over the floor toward me—two sets of them footsteps, to be exact. Strong, callused hands came down over my belly, pushing my skimpy top up until it rested by my neck and my breasts were bared to their view. Two more big hands pushed at my skirt until it was bunched at my waist.
Then their mouths were on me. One worked on my breasts, nibbling and suckling on one while he kneaded and molded the other with his big hand. The other knelt between my painfully open thighs and lapped at my pussy, using his tongue and teeth on my clit while his rough fingers delved into my opening.
Within seconds, I was squirming on the gyno table. Within minutes, I was crying out and panting, searching for a release which I knew they wouldn’t grant me. Not yet at least.
I was right. Before I could get to that delightful precipice, they both pulled back. Instead of tongues and teeth on my nipples and clit, I felt the painful bite of clamps settling into place. Clothespins latched onto the tender flesh of my areolas and the fullness of my breasts, so many I lost count long before they stopped putting them on me. Something cold and metal entered my pussy—a speculum?—spreading my opening wider, wider, and still wider.
With the device still holding me open, a long dildo pressed into me through the opening it created. It delved deep, not stopping until it struck against what I assumed to be the very back wall of my cunt. I cried out in shock, which was probably the wrong response as it then moved deeper, putting an odd pressure against my cervix.
Something tugged the clamps connected to my nipples and clit—probably a chain of some sort—and stretched them up high. At the same time, a motor hummed to life and the dildo inside me started to move.
David came around the curtain then on my left side, all six feet and two hundred plus delicious pounds of him, and pulled his
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