Compulsion

by Don Julian Winslow

  I was sure she felt the touch, but she couldn’t respond; totally unable to move; couldn’t even make a sound. In the few seconds it took the heaviness to come over her, she must have realized she had been drugged, probably even knew what it was – A-10! By now she also knew that she was completely paralyzed, just like her test subjects. I’ll bet her mind was racing a mile a minute trying to figure it out. She would be wondering how it had happened. Probably thought she had been contaminated working in the lab.

  Now I slid my cupped hand up along that slim shoulder, over the collar of the lab coat, and onto her neck, slipping it under the smooth folds of fine brown hair. I let a handful of loose hair sift through my fingers, then moved the hair back to uncover a perfect little ear. My cock stirred in my pants.

  It was exciting to be so close to this attractive woman, who stood perfectly still with her back to me. By now she would have known that some stranger had entered the room, was behind her at that very moment, was touching her. And she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Undoubtedly, she felt her fear rising as he realized how totally helpless she was. I had to work to get a grip on myself, as I leaned down to bring my lips to her ear. Her hair smelt nice and fresh. I couldn’t resist sliding my tongue down the side of her neck as I nuzzled her. I whispered into that delicate ear.

  “Hi Doc. Looks like you must of drank something that didn’t agree with you. But look at it this way. Now you’ll get to know what it feels like to be a test subject, first-hand. The CIA guys are gonna love your report on this particular test!”

  I stepped around to confront her for the first time. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses, recognition dawned in her pale blue eyes, as she realized who I was. The circular glass disks made her eyes look even bigger. And in those searching eyes I saw confusion, and a growing sense of panic. I smiled, reached out, carefully removed the girl’s glasses, and set them down on the desk. Without her glasses she looked even smaller, more vulnerable.

  “Ya know, Doc. I always thought we should get to know each other better. I know how much you like to be pals with the tech staff. We’re all friends here, right? Well, here’s your chance. See, I want to know all about you Doc.”

  I stepped up, and I kissed Dr. Meghan O’Connor right on the lips! Her lips were soft but unresponsive. It was like kissing a statue -- a beautiful statue.

  “Yeah, I want to learn all about you. I want to know about that hot little body of yours, your tits, and your cunt, and your ass, and the color of the hair you got between your legs. Oh, yeah, those legs of yours. Do you know that’s what they call you…’Legs?’ Well, Legs, it’s time you and I got better acquainted.”

  While I was talking to her, I touched her on the face, gently stroked her cheek with a single finger. I was looking her right in those blue eyes, fascinated by the way they widened as I drew my finger over her lips, down her chin and neck and on down her front to trace the outline of her left breast through several layers of clothing. I swear I felt the rigid girl quiver when I touched her on the breast.

  I couldn’t help grinning as I reached for the lab coat peeled it back off her shoulders and began dragging it down her limp, passive arms. Under the crisp white jacket, was a sleeveless white blouse tucked into her navy blue skirt.

  My hands were shaking as I reached for the top button. Never taking my eyes off hers, I undid the first button, and was thrilled to see her growing fear suddenly flare into wild panic; the woman knew she was being undressed. A guy was taking off her clothes, in her own office, and she could do nothing but stand there! She simply couldn’t move, not a muscle. Under other circumstances she would try to scream, but that too was denied to her by that wonder drug.

  I patiently worked my way down the front of her blouse, pulled it out of her skirt, pushed the loose blouse back off her shoulders and dragged it down her loosely dangling arms. Meghan O’Connor in her brassiere was an inspirational sight, and my cock responded with a surge of lust stiffening even more my already hard erection.

  The bra was made of some kind of silvery blue fabric. The silky cups, hard and shiny, pressed snugly against her slim chest. I could see the girl’s nipples through the thin shimmering silkiness. The thought flashed through my mind: Surprisingly pretty underwear for such an uptight bitch!

  I stepped behind her to get at the tiny catch, worked it open, and let the tight bra spring free to dangle loosely from her shoulders. I slipped down the shoulderstraps, then scooped it up and dropped it, letting it fall to join the growing pile of clothes on the office floor, uncovering a very pretty pair of pert breasts: sloping gently, with tautly rounded undercurves. Doctor O’Connor’s nipples were small hard nubbins, protruding like tiny pebbles from well-defined disks of pinkish auerolae.

  She was staring straight ahead as I stood before her, contemplating her exposed breasts, watching them rise and fall in rapid undulations as her breathing quickened. She could do nothing but stand there, watching helplessly as I plucked a nipple between my fingers, tugged gently, rolled the fleshy tip between thumb and forefinger. I heard a tiny hiss; her lips fell open as she sucked in a shivering gasp of air. Her body was responding instinctively, reacting to forces more primordial, and even stronger, than those induced by the powerful drug.

  “Nice tits, Legs!” I couldn’t help complimenting her as I fingered that perky nipple. I nosed the fingertips of a cupped hand into the tuck under her right breast; flicked that floppy tit up and down a few times on the tips of my fingers, enjoying its bouncy resiliency, its taut little wobble. I rubbed my thumb over the nipple that was already stiffening with the first blush of arousal, hardening, protruding hopefully.

  With my hand cupping her breast, I kissed her again, giving her a gentle squeeze. And because her lips were moist and parted, the kiss was more responsive. I put my arm around her bare shoulders and scooped her in. And when we broke apart, her breathing had deepened. A shiver ran through her shoulders.

  Looking her right in the eye, and giving her a big grin, I placed both hands on her tits and enjoyed myself thoroughly by feeling her up, fondling the girl lavishly. By now she was flushed and a light sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead; her breasts were warm and moist, and delightfully springy. I sampled that fine silky texture of Meghan’s tits, palmed them up and down, then worked handfuls of those soft, pliant mounds, all the while watching her face closely. Her eyes remained expressionless, but she was breathing through her opened mouth. I saw her eyelashes flutter, her lids slid half–closed as I worked her up unmercifully. By now she was definitely hot and bothered; her healthy female body instinctively responding to all this male attention.

  But enough of that! I knew I had no more than half an hour and there was still a lot of I wanted to do. And so I reluctantly abandoned those playful tits of our Dr. O’Connor with their now protruding nipples, and with a quick kiss on her parted lips, I backed off.

  “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself. Having a good time, Legs? I plucked a saucy nipple, tugged on it, and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “How do you like our little experiment so far?” I rolled the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “A definite response of the test subject, I would say. I wonder…do you think our test subject could be made to …well, shall we say ’come’…if we applied the proper…ah.. stimulation?”

  Of course the stricken woman couldn’t answer me, but her eyes widened in alarm and I knew she understood exactly what I intended to do. I had to laugh. And still chuckling I went to her hips to find the little zipper at the side of her skirt. I opened her skirt, and worked it down her pantyhose-clad hips.

  Now I stepped back to admire those long gorgeous legs of hers, encased in the sheer nylon of honey-tined pantyhose.

  If a woman who worked at the labs actually wore a skirt to work (a rare happening) she would most likely wear sneakers and sweat socks with her pantyhose. On getting to the office, she might change into a more attractive pair of pumps, but others obstinately chose to have the smooth delicious taper of a n
ice pair of feminine legs ruined by thick socks and clunky shoes, like those Birkenstocks she wore to work. That was how Dr. O. dealt with the fashion problem. Now she stood before me, naked to the hips: still wearing her pantyhose. Under the press of translucent nylon I could see a pair of low rise panties banding her hips. Her fallen skirt was ringing her ankles, half-hiding the white socks and sneakers that peeked out below.

  If it were possible to move her, I would have picked up a rigid leg to take off the offending footwear, but I knew that wouldn’t work. I didn’t want her toppling over.

  Well, you can’t have everything, I thought with a sigh, as I placed my hands on her pantyhosed loins. I plucked the thin elastic waistband of the pantyhose and began peeling the clingy nylon down, tugging it down her thighs baring those long legs to leave the tangled pantyhose with the crumpled skirt around her ankles.

  Now my favorite doctor stood before me naked, but for a pair of silvery blue panties made of the same slick nylon as her bra.

  ***

  Walking around her with a solid erection, I took in the sight, appreciating Meghan O’Connor’s breath-taking beauty; those slim shoulders and lithe torso, those jaunty breasts and the lovely contours of those sleek legs.

  “You know what, Legs? You are one hot chick!” I shook my head in honest appreciation. I could have sworn I saw the immobilized woman blushing!

  Time was running short and I still hadn’t seen the girl’s pussy! My hands went for the waistband of her panties. I saw a silent scream well up in her eyes as she felt her thin underpants being peeled down her hips.

  The vagina that now came into my view was a softly sloping bulge, lightly furred with springy pubic hair, wispy curlings of the same dusky brown color as the hair on her head. I drew the panties down her legs and stepped back to study the naked woman scientist who stood at attention in her office with displaced panties ringing her ankles.

  I glanced at my watch. Ten more minutes; seven to be on the safe side. I walked around the standing nude, taking in the view from all angles. I paused to admire Meghan’s naked ass: a nicely curved, pertly-rounded, feminine bottom. With my cupped my hand, I patted her butt.

  “Nice ass,” I assured her, as I left my hand linger there, lightly caressing those pert, twin contours.

  With a curious finger I traced the crack, probing gently between the tight-set cheeks, sliding my finger lower in the deep furrow, till I found the spot that electrified her -- sending the buttcheeks clenching, hips jerking forward. Again her healthy body had reacted, overriding the drug-induced paralysis. I wondered if she would include that in her lab notes. “A subject goosed while under the influence will respond appropriately”?

  Filling my hand with a cheek I squeezed that firm but pliant mound, testing its resiliency. Damn, I’d love to spank that pleasingly plump ass! But there just wasn’t time! Still...just maybe…I rushed over to the office desk, hunted frantically through the drawers till I found what I was looking for: a thin wooden ruler.

  Gripping the thin strip of wood in my sweaty hand, I took aim and with a snap of the wrist, whacked the good Doctor’s naked buttocks straight across both cheeks. The wood ruler landed with a crisp “smack” splattering the spongy mounds that rebounded and wobbled like jello. It was so much fun I did it again, and again, happily smacking Dr. O’Connor’s bouncy bottom three or four times before I restrained myself. I didn’t want her to wake up with telltale red marks on a throbbing ass that would set her wondering.

  Reluctantly, I put the ruler back in its place and carefully closed the desk drawer. Checking my watch, I realized that I had no more than five minutes till my subject collapsed into a deep sleep. I had to hurry.

  I placed myself directly in front of her. Then, as she just stood there frozen still, unable to do anything but stare at me in wide-eyed desperation, I brought my hand up, dipping into the soft folds of flesh between her slightly-parted legs, finding her pussy slick and ready. I began palming the gentle mound of her furry vulva, while my fingers explored her wetness and the heat between her legs. I was looking deep into her dazed eyes as I fingered the helpless woman’s cunt, watching intently, curious to see her reactions as I heated her up, slowly raised her arousal level to the fever pitch of climax.

  Her jaw dropped open and her eyes were half-lidded as she quivered, then swayed unsteadily on her feet. I tested her wetness by rubbing my fingers together, then brought them up to press them to her nose forcing her to inhale the smell of her own cunt. I pressed my wet fingers over her pursed lips. Then I went back to work, continuing the job of masturbating the girl. Her eyes fluttered closed as I that worked over her moist warm cunt, palming the soft folds, rubbing the slick lips with probing fingers. And when I stiffened my middle finger and slipped it right up that well-lubricated pussy, her knees buckled and her body fell forward. She was leaning onto my hand as I jiggled my wrist, finger-fucking her, pleasuring the woman beyond all human endurance, forcing her to accept the pleasure her body would not let her mind deny.

  Then her hips were moving, bucking in instinctive pelvic thrusts; she was riding my plunging hand. Her eyes rolled up and her lashes fluttered and then…she fainted; collapsed into a heap at my feet!

  Now I knew there would be time. Test subjects usually slept it off in an hour or so. I would have to get the limp, comatose woman dressed as best as I could, and that wouldn’t be easy. But I’d do my best so that when she woke up in her familiar office she’s be intact, save for the residue of drying pussyjuice impregnating her sticky panties.

  Moving her like a limp mannequin, I struggled to pull her panties and pantyhose back into place. As I hitched up her skirt and fastened it around her hips, thoughts ran through my mind as to how she would react when she woke up dazed and bewildered, and alone in her office. Dr. O’Connor was a smart girl. She’d realize she’d been drugged. Would she go on the warpath; order a full-scale investigation? Or would she merely sweep the whole thing under the rug, too embarrassed and afraid of what might come out? I’d just have to wait and see.

  7. Insatiable

  _________________________________________________________________

  "No woman," it is said, "knows truly what she is until she has worn the collar."

  -- John Norman, Marauders of Gor

  ________________________________________________________________________________

  Huddled around their computer, the three conspirators stood watching their sleeping victim through the two-way mirror. They waited eagerly, talking in hushed, excited whispers. They knew she’d soon be waking up. She looked so peaceful, her long brown hair spilled loosely on the pillow, her pretty face in quiet repose. The watchers hushed each other when they saw the girl begin to stir.

  So far, everything was going according to plan. The abduction had been easy. They had waited along the dark alley that led to the lot where she had parked her Toyota. They watched her come out of the bar and start down the alleyway. Then Kyle and Mark quickly and silently walked up to her as if they were escorts, and before she realized what was happening Mark had pressed the stun gun to her neck and gave her a quick jolt. The girl uttered a tiny cry and immediately collapsed, slumping down into their supporting arms. They quickly hauled her off to the waiting van. Now she was about to wake and find herself in the small bedroom they had made up for her. But that would be only the first of many surprises awaiting her.

  Joyce stirred, stretched. She lay for a few minutes with eyes closed, feeling the muted throb of a slight headache. The thought came to her: that third Marguerita had been one too many! Her eyes fluttered open, and in a few seconds she sprang up, looking all around her, puzzled by her strange surroundings. The room was small -- nothing but a bed and small table on which sat her purse. On the wall at the foot the bed was a large mirror. The light blanket that covered her slid down as she sat up in bed, and she found herself looking at her reflection in the glass. She was still dressed in the somewhat rumpled suit she had worn to the office that day, althou
gh someone had removed her pumps and set them neatly by the bed. But what caught her attention now was the strange collar on her neck: a necklace formed by a simple metallic loop of dull, burnished metal, perhaps a half-inch wide. Her hands went up to explore the collar, feeling along the curve from front to back to try to find some catch or opener. But the collar seemed to be one solid piece; an unbroken loop, loose, but too small to be pulled off over her head.

  She felt a wave of fear, scrambled out of the bed, grabbed her purse and rifled through it. All the contents seemed to be there, all but the one thing she was hunting for -- her cell phone…was gone! She quickly stepped into her shoes, grabbed her purse, leapt to the door, turning the knob and jerking frantically. Locked! She was trapped!

  In the next room a sequence of computer keys were tapped in rapid fire order. As Joyce pulled on the door with increasing panic, she was suddenly overcome with a feeling of lightheadedness. It caused her to sway, rocking back on her heels till she knew she’d better seek the safety of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she became hot and flushed. She put a hand to her brow and found it was damp. On the other side of the glass, a new sequence of commands were sent by the computer to the collar, and the sense of panic was replaced by a delicious feeling of creamy pleasure that rose up in the girl, causing her lips to curl in a little smile. She arched back and closed her eyes to fully savor the sensation of mild euphoria that flooded through her.

  Closely watching their subject’s reactions, the excited conspirators giggled like schoolboys. They could barely suppress their cries of triumph when they saw the look of pleasure come over that pretty upturned face.