Bound by Her Promise

“Orgasm?” suggested Blake. He had to see for himself what she could do, how she looked when she came. His cock shifted in his pants just thinking about her moaning with pleasure. Months of celibacy and he was hours away from a decent fuck. Patience, dammit! He had to show her he wasn’t a harsh man, that he could be a friend, if she let him.

“Oh yes. You’ll be required to orgasm. Some women can’t and fake it. Not something Blake would like.” Dr Lamont patted Blake’s arm and grinned.

“See,” said Blake, edging closer to the stunned Lysa who remained backed against the exam table. “Nothing painful. In fact, doesn’t it sound fun?”

* * *

Fun! How could he use such a word? Naked, spread wide, poked, prodded and forced to orgasm. What a performance she was expected to put on for them. Pain wasn’t the issue for Lysa, it was the abject humiliation she feared.

She glanced at the trolley by the exam table. A speculum wrapped in a sterile covering, swabs, a weird looking probe and lubricant. All laid out ready for her. She ran a finger along the stirrup and touched the strap. “What’s this for?”

The doctor glanced at Blake then back to her. “Your safety.”

Safety. She guffawed and rolled her eyes up. They couldn’t force her, but they would make sure once she’d stripped and laid down she wasn’t going to change her mind.

“Lysa, if we’re going to be man and wife, you have to trust me. That trust starts right now.” Blake cupped his hands about her face and gazed straight into her eyes. She flinched. Such dark eyes, black pits, and they made her tummy flip with small somersaults, frazzling her thoughts.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to find a way to accept him into her life, because if her plan was going to work, she needed his support. Perhaps, the examination would help conquer her anxieties about the future. If she could see her way through this, then she would tell him, open up and let him know the truth. If he cooperated, they could marry and cement their relationship. All they had to be was friends, nothing else. She didn’t expect anything else.

“Well?” Blake stroked a finger down her cheek.

Lysa sighed. A few hours was all it had taken to break down her determined façade of confidence. She’d had plenty of medicals before now, why did this one present problems? “Fine,” she scowled.

She straightened up and squared off her shoulders. She hadn’t reached this far without taking risks. It was time to rebuild her poise—by taking off her clothes. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Blake stepped back, creating space between them. She fingered her top. A layer of clammy perspiration clung to her skin, gluing her clothes on. Lifting it over her head, she uncovered her bra. Next, she slipped down her pants, shaking them off her feet, and added them to the clothes already folded on a stool.

“All your clothes, please,” reminded Blake. He’d not taken his eyes off her.

Lysa unclasped her bra. She kept her arm looped around her bosom, hiding her nipples and with the other hand, she picked at the elasticated waistband.

“Let me help.” Blake knelt at her feet, and before she could protest, peeled her panties down her thighs. “Step out of them.” She lifted her feet one by one, then swiftly covered her sex with a hand.

He scrunched her panties in his hand, as if he didn’t want to let them go, then added them to her pile of clothes. Blake move out of the way, allowing the doctor to stand in front of Lysa.

“Arms to your sides, please.” Dr Lamont tapped her elbow.

Lysa chewed her lower lip and curled her toes into balls at her feet. She bared her breasts and stood to attention, arms rigid at her sides, but kept her thighs clamped together.

She glanced up, straight into the eyes of the doctor. Unlike Blake, the medic had grey hairs poking out around his temples and a smattering of wrinkles about his lips. His hooked nose protruded out of his face, making him appear hawkish. Looking

over her shoulder, she watched Blake rest his shoulders against the wall and cross his ankles. She could easily warm to his handsome features and burly physique. Things could be much worse.

The doctor checked the glands in her neck. “How was the spaceflight? Any problems with the slipstream?”

Lysa shook her head. “No. A little dizziness and nausea at first.”

“It happens.” He flicked a torch in her eyes and she blinked several times. “Put your hands on your head. I’m going to examine your breasts.”

Her arms shook as she raised them. She grasped her hair, clinging on to her scalp. Dr Lamont cupped her right breast, lifting it and let it bounce in his palm. His gentle touch caused a ripple of shivers to rush down her spine. He repeated with the other breast, using both hands at the same time as if to weigh them up in scales.

Lysa squeezed her eyes shut. This didn’t seem to be a regular breast examination. He palpated around her nipples with two fingers, pressing harder until she winced. If any other man touched her in such a groping fashion, she’d belt him one.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but overly sensitive tissue might cause you problems.” He pinched a nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it back and forth. With a tug, he stretched the erect nipple out, twisting it as he elongated the rigid tissue.

Lysa snatched a breath, then held it as he let go. A moment of sharp pain and she gasped. Seconds later, the discomfort had gone.

He’d been watching her intently, nodding at her little exclamation. “All’s good. Quite normal.”

What did he expect? For her to burst into tears? “Of course,” she retorted. She was proud of her breasts, their form and pertness suited her slender build.