Cave Man's Captive

by Juliana Conners

  As long as my mother doesn’t find out.

  On that note, I get up and walk over to the mirror above the sink so I can straighten myself out and not let my mother’s suspicions become aroused.

  “Thank you for a successful exam,” Dr. Monroe says. “I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

  I can’t wait. And by the way he winks at me as he walks out of the office, it’s obvious that he can’t either.

  I’m so glad my mother brought me to him for an exam. And even more glad that it was very thorough and that I listened to all his orders. He's the one person in the entire world I wanted to take my virginity, and now he just did. He fulfilled all my fantasies and more, and now he wants to see me again.

  I have to remember not to get too caught up in this, I think, as I get dressed. My mother would kill me if she found out. And I have to remember it's just physical—I wanted to lose my virginity, not fall in love.

  But I have emotional feelings that are overtaking me just as fast as the physical ones. I remind myself it's just because he took my virginity. Not because it means anything more than something sexual.

  Even if it feels like that.

  Chapter 24 – Elizabeth Jane

  As my mom drives me from school to Dr. Monroe's office, her eyebrows arch suspiciously. I clutch my notebook to my chest, wondering if she can somehow read my secret thoughts I've written within it and shared with no one but Diana. She and I have become better friends, although she thinks that everything that's happened with Dr. Monroe is just a figment of my imagination; dirty fantasies I write down for our mutual entertainment during class. She's even written some about Dr. Calvert and shared them with me. I can't wait to take her ideas and put them into practice with Dr. Monroe.

  Mom doesn’t look too happy that she's gotten her way about this whole thing. Leave it to my mother to send me to our family doctor to be certified as physically and mentally pure after she catches me masturbating, and then to be upset that I actually go along with her plan.

  “Dr. Monroe reports that you’re physically pure,” she says glumly, gripping the steering wheel and glaring out the front window of the car. “He says you’re still intact. That you haven’t been penetrated.”

  Until he changed that, I think, as I remember how he penetrated me with his fingers to get me ready to lose my virginity to him. And then I think about how he shoved his cock down my throat and slapped my ass. And, of course, how he penetrated me with his big, hard cock, taking my virginity as I had always fantasized about him doing, while playing with my tits.

  It was perfect. Dr. Monroe has turned me from a virgin to a whore, in the span of just two doctor’s appointments. And my mom has no idea.

  “What are you smiling about?” my mom snaps at me. “Wipe that smug grin off your face. Dr. Monroe is ready to evaluate your mental state, so you’re going back right now for that portion of the exam. You can't possibly be looking forward to this."

  She glares at me, and I shrug. Little does she know how very excited I am to be seeing Dr. Monroe again, or why.

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I’m beginning to wonder if I have a sex addiction, and if maybe my condition will be revealed during this mental exam. I've been looking for any and every chance to masturbate and think about Dr. Monroe— even going to the bathroom during class or taking long showers at home so I can think about how he fucks me.

  I wonder whether anyone has ever masturbated so much as I do, all the time. I’m not sure. What's a little more concerning to me, however, is the fact that I can't get Dr. Monroe out of my head. I can deal with a physical compulsion to touch myself while thinking about his huge cock and how he knows exactly what to do with it— but thinking about him in an emotional way all the time is altogether more troubling.

  I'm not supposed to fall for a man. Men just leave, just disappoint, just let down those who they are supposed to care about. Dr. Monroe is obviously no different if he thinks it's appropriate to be having sex with me in his office.

  My face burns as I realize what a hypocrite I am. I'm judging him for doing what I wanted him to do— what I’m glad he does— and what I eagerly do right along with him. I think it's just my mind's way of being upset with him when really, I'm upset with myself for loving him.

  I don't love him, I quickly correct myself, while my mom drones on. I just think I do because he's my very first, and because the sex is so hot.

  "I bet that after today's mental exam, Dr. Monroe will tell me that you’re sexually depraved," she continues. "It’s your father’s fault for leaving you. A girl without a father has a hunger deep inside her that never goes away. I bet that Dr. Monroe will tell me that you have dirty, naughty thoughts that need to be washed out of your mind.”

  More like fucked out of my mind, I think, careful not to smile this time.

  I am a little worried about this mental health examination appointment—whatever that means— but more than anything, I’m excited for it. Dr. Monroe said he will have to collaborate with a colleague who knows about psychology, as he’s just a general doctor. I wonder who it will be and what I will have to do during that examination. But if it’s anything like the last examination, I’m sure I’ll like it.

  When I get to the office, I'm so excited to be seeing Dr. Monroe again. I have so much pent up sexual energy. I haven’t risked masturbating at home while I fantasize about him like I used to, because the last thing I need is my mom walking in on me again. So, I go to the ladies’ room in between classes and play with myself there. I imagine that my fingers belong to Dr. Monroe as they prod, poke and play with me. I rub my clit while I think about him coming on my face or in my pussy without a condom. I know that's really a fantasy— and I'm glad he practices safe sex— but I guess it just means I want to be claimed by him.

  I feel my panties soaked with wetness and all I want to do is lie down on the examining table and have Dr. Monroe fuck me all over again. But first we have to do some stupid kind of mental examination, which will take up at least half an hour.

  I can’t even wait half an hour, I think. I must really be some kind of nympho.

  I shift restlessly in the waiting room chair, dying to see Dr. Monroe.

  My mom shoots me another suspicious glance.

  "Whatever is it that you and Dr. Monroe do in there?" she asks me.

  Her silent follow up question hangs between us.

  And why doesn't he ever let me come in so I can flirt with him more?

  Finally, Trisha, the nurse, hurriedly ushers me into a private office. VIP service, I think. I don’t even have to wait to be called.

  “The doctors will be in shortly, honey,” she says, patting me on my arm.

  As Dr. Monroe's nurse, I wonder if Trisha has any idea what goes on behind his closed office doors.

  She leaves the room and I sit on the examination table and wait to see what Dr. Monroe has in store for me today. Since he hadn't given me prior instructions about disrobing this time, I leave my clothes on.

  I don’t have to wait long. Within a few minutes, Dr. Monroe appears. My heart skips a beat and my pussy tightens just from seeing him.

  “Elizabeth Jane,” he says, just grinning at me while skipping any previous formalities.

  I hope we can quickly get on with whatever he has planned when it comes to the mental portion of my exam, so that we can get to the part he mentioned about testing his results of the physical portion. My mother’s in the waiting room again and we don’t have long. She is starting to get suspicious. I want to take advantage of every second in Dr. Monroe's office, just like I want to take advantage of every inch of his big cock.

  “You’re always so quiet, Elizabeth Jane,” Dr. Monroe says. “But you’re going to have to open up to me mentally and emotionally now, just as you've done physically. Do you want to submit to me in every possible way, and provide me with access to your most deep and private thoughts, just as you've given me access to your most deep and private parts of your body?"
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br />   "Yes," I tell him, meeting his gaze.

  He wants my heart as well as my body, I realize. But what is he going to give me?

  "So why don’t you go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind now?”

  He steps close to me and rests a hand on my thigh.

  “You mean what I’m thinking?” I ask.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  He inches his hand closer to my inner thigh, brushing it along the thin fabric of my skirt. I'd chosen this school girl like outfit to wear just for him, and I'm glad to see he appreciates it.

  “I’ve been thinking about last time, and um…”

  “Yes? Go on.”

  His hand is now dangerously close to my pussy and all I want is for him to touch it.

  “I liked it,” I admit.

  “You did? Have you been thinking about it?”

  “Yes,” I answer, and he rewards me by firmly grasping the folds of my pussy between his fingers.

  “That’s a good girl,” he says. “I knew you’d enjoy your first experience."

  I’m looking at his hand on my pussy, wanting him to squeeze it harder but also worried about how that will look on the mental examination. He’ll know what a nympho I am, I think, and he’ll finally tell my mom that I let him finger me and fuck me.

  Dr. Monroe doesn’t let go of the outside of my pussy. I can feel myself dripping wet and I know he can feel some of my juices running out of me.

  I tingle all over in anticipation. As I wait for Dr. Monroe to instruct me on what to do, he seems just as unsure about what comes next. I realize he's better at the physical examination— both because he's a doctor and because he's amazing at sex— than whatever the "mental examination" portion is supposed to be. He clears his throat.

  “Well, why don’t we get started, then?"

  "Okay."

  He withdraws his hand from underneath my skirt and suddenly looks very serious. Emotions wash over me as I realize he's seriously wondering about my emotional well-being rather than just my sexual pleasure.

  He likes me, I realize. Maybe almost as much as I like him.

  "Elizabeth Jane, I'm wondering what you can tell me about your relationship with your mother," he says.

  I shift my weight on the examination table, not completely comfortable with the topic of conversation but not wanting to appear as if I'm being uncooperative.

  "It's… difficult," is all I can manage to say.

  "I can only imagine."

  He reaches his hand back out to me but this time, instead of touching my leg or pussy, he takes my own hand in his. He holds it and strokes it.

  "It must be painful trying to relate to someone who is so cold-hearted and cruel," he says.

  I look at him and then away, blinking, because I don't want to cry. No one has ever said that to me before. Sure, people have made fun of my mom or asked me what is wrong with her or how I can live with her like that, but no one has simply acknowledged that it's painful. That there's no reason I do it, other than the fact that she's my mother and I have nowhere else to go, but just that this is the situation that I’m in, and that it's difficult.

  "It is," I finally say.

  He sits quietly and squeezes my hand. Then he reaches over and brushes some hair out of my eyes.

  "And what about your father?" he asks me. "What is your relationship like with him?"

  I gulp, and then shake my head.

  "Non-existent," I confess.

  "You never see him?"

  I shake my head again.

  "I did a little bit when I was younger, after he left," I tell him. "But then he just split. He didn't want anything to do with us."

  "Let me guess," Dr. Monroe says, a look of anger washing over his face. "Your mom told you that."

  "Yes…"

  "I would encourage you to get independent verification of that."

  I look at him.

  "But how, Dr. Monroe?"

  "Call me Derek," he says, and leans in and kisses me.

  He hugs me close and tight, and I can smell his musky cologne.

  "Call me Liz," I tell him.

  "Okay."

  I've never gone by Liz. My mother always strictly insists on the very formal full name of Elizabeth Jane.

  "If I wanted you to have a nickname that sounds like a stripper, I would have named you that," she used to say. "Instead, I gave you a lady's name, and I expect you to use it."

  "How does Liz sound like a stripper?" I used to wonder.

  But I never dared to speak up to her. I let her dictate every aspect about my life, including my name and what I go by. And even whether or not I try to contact my father. But now all of that's about to change. Thanks to Derek. I want him to call me something no one else ever has. I feel reborn into a new and different me. Or maybe just a better version of myself.

  "Do you have any way to contact your father?" he asks me. "I just think you should find out on your own rather than taking the word of your mother, who seems a bit…"

  "Coocoo?" I volunteer.

  "I was going to say biased," he says with a smile. "But whatever you want to go with."

  I ponder his suggestion, confused.

  "There was a way he left for me to contact him, but my mother claims it didn't work."

  He pats my hand.

  "Only one way to find out."

  "But if she's right, and he doesn't want to talk to me…"

  "You'll be opening yourself up to more hurt," Derek agrees. "But, if you think about it…"

  "Nothing will have really changed," I agree, understanding where he's going with this. "My father doesn't talk to me now, and he might not if I try to reach him, but at least I'll have tried."

  "That's very right."

  He looks at me and smiles, and I can tell he's admiring my decision.

  "You're very brave, Liz. I know it's difficult to open yourself up to love. Although it can come with great reward, it also makes you feel vulnerable, and carries risk as well."

  He looks as if he's talking to himself as much as he is to me.

  Then he clears his throat.

  "That will suffice for the mental portion of the exam," he says. "I find you to be mentally fit. Especially considering the circumstances."

  I know he's referring to the fact that I was raised with my mom. Usually I feel embarrassed when people bring up my weird upbringing. With Derek, though, I feel grateful for his understanding and help. For the first time, I feel free.

  He looks away from my eyes for the first time, and down to my body.

  "I'd like to repeat the purity exam and ensure I get the same results," he says.

  I grin at him, and he winks at me. We both know the façade is being dropped. Him needing to examine my virginity was just an excuse for him to take it. And both of us are very happy with that.

  "Yes, Doctor," I tell him, as he smiles back at me.

  I know I can call him Derek. I know that something just transpired between us on a more emotional level than the physical realm we've been exploring. But I also like calling him doctor, for the role play aspect of it. I'm not ready to completely stop playing games, because they're really fun. And I know he feels the same way.

  “Elizabet Jane, I’m going to need you to take your clothes off in order to perform this exam,” he says, with a voice of authority.

  “Okay,” I say, and stand up. He quickly helps me out of my skirt.

  Once my skirt is off, he commands me, "Sit back down on the examination table, Liz."

  I do so.

  “This is what I was wanting to see again, for the purposes of my examination of course."

  As Dr. Monroe pulls my panties to the side with one hand and spreads my legs far apart with his other hand, his voice trembles a bit. I can tell that things are changing between us. The feeling is more intimate and close between us than it ever has been before.

  He inserts a finger into my pussy, obviously claiming his territory. I can feel myself dripping wet on his finger, wanti
ng so much for him to put his penis back inside me like he did during my last appointment.

  I catch my breath as he traces the skin on my inner thigh with one hand, while thrusting two fingers inside my pussy with his other hand. Then he puts a third finger inside my pussy, stretching it almost as wide as his cock does.

  “I can't believe I took your virginity. Right in this very office.”

  He puts his right hand on his erect cock and begins to stroke it as he fingers my pussy, in and out, and I begin to wish that he would just take me right here and now.

  Then he removes his fingers, leaving my pussy hole feeling aching and empty, and says, “Look how wet I make your sweet little cunt.”

  He slaps my pussy once, twice, three times, harder with each slap.

  “Little Liz, I love how you let me do whatever I want to you. You let me fuck you right here during your exams. And you get as wet for me as the college schoolgirl that you are.”

  I tense my muscles, drawing them tight around Dr. Monroe's multiple fingers that are inside me. He kneels down in front of me and begins sucking on my nipples, which are standing hard and erect for him. I can’t believe that everything I always imagined him doing— wrote about him doing in my diary— is actually coming true, over and over again.

  “I want you to tell me what you like about this, while I make you feel good,” Dr. Monroe says to me, in between licking and sucking on my nipples.

  “I love when you play with my pussy, Doctor,” I tell him. "I love when you suck on my nipples."

  I catch my breath. The feeling of his hand inside me and his mouth on my breasts while his other hand plays with his cock right beside me feels so good that I don’t want him to stop.

  “What else do you like having me do to you?” Dr. Monroe grunts, as he pushes his fingers even further inside me.

  He's pulling my panties so far over to the side that I’m afraid they might tear. He’s also pulling on his big cock through his pants, so close to my pussy, and I know he wants to put it inside me but he’s trying to take his time. We get such few moments together.