“IT’S OKAY.” BISHOP’S voice was soft. “I’m not going to hook you up to all of the equipment. It would take quite a while. We’ll just measure your heart-rate, and we can use this if you want.” He held up what looked like long, brass tweezers with flat ends.
“What is that thing?” It was a little too pinchy-looking and too made of cold metal for Penelope’s taste.
“It’s a labial thermistor. I would clip it your labia minora. It measures changes in skin temperature due to blood engorgement of the tissue in reaction to sexual stimulation.”
Pen gaped at him, then laughed. “You really are a sex professor, though nothing you just said was sexy, not even coming out of your talented mouth.”
Bishop’s cheeks flushed again.
She narrowed her eyes at the tool in his hands. “You clip it to my labia?” She sounded as dubious as she felt about the instrument.
He tilted his head, considering. “Gently. I clip it gently to your labia.”
But she was already shaking her head. “How about you monitor my heart-rate, and I keep you verbally abreast of the engorgement of my nether-region? Sound good, Professor?”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
Bishop hooked her up to the heart-rate monitor and then rummaged in a drawer, coming up with a brand-new vibrator. He tore open the box, added batteries, tested it—making Penelope nearly jump out of her skin at the aggressive sounds in the quiet room—and then handed it to her.
“Get undressed and get on the table,” he instructed, as he headed out of the room.
She was still reeling from what had just occurred. She’d done her best to follow his rules, and then he’d just done that to her. Not that she was complaining. But the follow-up…the idea that he would teach her how to get off so she could then teach her actual, appropriate boyfriend how she liked it. Bishop was so concerned about being her guardian, and now he seemed to have decided it was okay for him to be her sexual mentor too.
What he had just done proved he was trying to walk a narrow tightrope between being her father-figure and giving in to his lust for her. She could walk that thin line with him, let him try to push her away. She might even let him, if, in the end, she’s happier that way. But she didn’t think so. She’d listen to his guidance so that, eventually, maybe they’d both realize they were meant to be together, and he’d believe it was a choice she was finally experienced enough to make.
She looked down at the pink instrument in her hands. It didn’t have a phallic shape. It was curved, and fit comfortably in her hand. She squinted at it. This pretty, feminine thing was definitely not what she expected. It looked more like a complexion brush a lady might have on her vanity than a sex toy, though the head of it sported a soft, rubber cone instead of nubs or bristles.
“What kind of vibrator is this?” she yelled.
“It’s a clitoral stimulator,” he called back. “We don’t use penetrative vibrators because the subjects usually have a tool inside them that gathers data for us about excitement and orgasm.”
Oh. Okay.
“And you don’t have to yell. The room is wired for sound. I can hear you just fine at your normal speaking voice.”
She stared at the window, which was frosted again. He was out there, watching her. She stripped off her shorts and underwear and climbed onto the table.
“Turn around,” she yelled, and then jumped when his voice came loud and clear through speakers she didn’t see.
“Stop yelling, Penelope.” He sounded like he was laughing, and she smiled. “I can hear you and you can hear me.”
She looked around, feeling odd. She felt alone, yet not alone. It was disconcerting not being able to see him, yet knowing that he could see her.
“Well, turn around,” she repeated. “I don’t want you watching while I flounder around trying to get into these ridiculously-splayed stirrups. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
In the quiet room, she felt like she made enough noise for an elephant as she got situated on the table, but once she was settled, she told him she was ready. This time she remembered not to yell.
“Okay. Now just relax, Pen.”
Her eyes flitted over the walls and ceiling. Bishop’s voice filled the small space, sounding like it was coming from all around her. The table was raised at the end opposite the stirrups so her upper body was elevated enough for her to see the window, and to reach easily between her legs.
Though she tried, she couldn’t see him through the glass. No shadows, no movements. Only milky white nothing.
“How are you feeling?”
“Cold.”
He chuckled. “Makes sense. You’re not wearing much.”
She looked down. Her legs were spread obscenely wide, giving Bishop a front row seat to her most private areas. Her nipples were hard. She wasn’t sure whether that was from the chill, or from the thought that right that moment, her guardian was outside that window staring at her nude body on full display, just for him. She held the vibrator he’d given her in her right hand.
“Go ahead and turn on the toy, honey.”
She switched it on, wincing at the noise.
“That’s the lowest setting. Let’s leave it there for now.”
She nodded and moved the toy slowly up over her hip, toward the vee between her legs.
“The first thing we need to figure out is what turns you on. Go ahead and touch the toy to your thigh. Get used to the feel of it and the sensation it gives.”
She did as he said, and was pleased to discover the it felt good, even on her leg. Gentle pulsations tickled her skin.
“Okay, now turn it off. We’re just going to use your fingers for now. That thing works fast, and I want you to get used to touching yourself first.”
Pen raised her eyebrows. Sounded like a good device. She switched it off.
“Now, I want you to imagine you attend this social tonight and you meet someone who is very attractive. Imagine what you might want him to do to you.”
Pen tried to do what he asked, but the idea fell flat in her psyche.
“Use your other hand to dip your fingers into the folds of your vagina. Touch around with your fingertips. Find your clit. It should be firming up. You’ll know the spot, because touching it should feel good.”
She was damp there, slick, and in no time at all, she located her clitoris.
“That’s it, honey. Now just lightly swirl your finger around. Slide it up and down. Get the feel of your body and explore what sensations are better than others.”
She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on that small bundle of nerves between her legs that Bishop was so good at manipulating. It did feel good when she touched it. She experimented with hard and soft, up and down.
“You’re doing great, little one. Does it feel good to touch yourself like that?”
She nodded and shrugged at the same time. It did feel good, but she wasn’t going to come from it.
“You’re doing great Pen, just relax and let your fantasies take over.”
She tried doing what he instructed, imagining going home with a handsome stranger from the social. She tried to envision that perfect college stud on top of her, kissing her, touching her like she was touching herself. It didn’t seem to be working.
She added another finger, moving them in tandem, but no matter what she did, she just couldn’t spark that slow build she’d felt with Bishop minutes before.
“Your heart rate’s not reflecting much. Do you feel a growing arousal?”
“Sorry, Bishop. I’m trying.”
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s try something different.” His voice now held a hint of concern. “I’m sure you have sexual fantasies. Conjure up your most powerful one. The one you think about late at night when you’re alone in bed.”
That was easy. Every night, she lay in bed and thought of Bishop. Her fingers hesitated over her pussy. She really was trying to do things his way. She had to show him she could give other men a true shot. Even then, the chances were slim he’d allow her into his heart, but she had to try.
Following the rules meant no fantasizing about fucking her guardian. She racked her brain to come up with a different fantasy that might do the trick.
“Touch yourself for me, little Pen.” His voice had changed. “I want you to come for me.”
Come for me. He’d said those words to her before, in his bed on the night of her eighteenth birthday. She closed her eyes in a slow blink and gave up on his rules, plunging her fingers back into her folds.
“There you go. Your heart-rate is increasing nicely. Is your excitement growing?”
She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt herself grow wetter under her caresses.
His voice came through sounding hoarse and low. “How wet are you?”
“I’m dripping wet, Bishop, so ready to be fucked.” She spoke freely, lost to the sensations between her legs, even in the strange environment.
“It looks like you found it, honey. Whatever you’re thinking of is really turning you on. You went from nothing to completely aroused. So now that we know what turns you on, I’d advise you to think of it whenever you masturbate.”
She worked her fingers faster and faster, her juices causing a squelching sound as she sought that magic point when it was enough. It was a raw, sexual sound, and she was glad he was witnessing how she was falling apart for him.
“I’m thinking about you, Bishop.” She gasped, as confessing that to him turned her on even more.
“Penelope.” His deep voice resonated through the small chamber, embellished by the amplification. She knew it was meant to be an admonishment, but it ended in more of a groan.
Her voice was breathy, that of a woman lost in carnal pleasure. “At night, I think about you. The way you touch me. The things I want you to do to me. I try to remember what it’s like for you to come in my throat, splash it, hot, across my face.” She sucked in a breath and moaned, imagining him watching her touch herself. “I imagine you crawling on top of me. Making me spread my legs and shoving your cock in me. Fucking me until you’ve had enough and I’m exhausted and sore and spent.”
Her fingers moved in a frenzy, and she was so close to giving herself an orgasm for the first time. But that’s when she realized Bishop was quiet. Too quiet. She stopped playing with herself and opened her eyes.
“Bishop, what are you doing right now?” There was no answer. She made her voice sharper. “Switch the window to glass.”
Still no answer, but with the room’s good acoustic system, she could hear him breathing, and his respiration was labored, just like hers.
Something melted inside her. She would draw this man out if it killed her. “Show me, Bishop,” she urged, her voice soft. “Show me how you touch yourself when you’re in bed at night and thinking about me.”
She blinked when the opaque wall in front of her dissolved to clear glass and her guardian came into focus. Her mouth went dry and she forgot to breathe for a moment.
He stood close to the window, his pants down to his knees and his hand wrapped around his stiff cock. When she dragged her eyes from the incredible sight, she looked up, registering the look on his face. It was some equal mix of shame and lust, and his eyes were washed in desperation.
“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, as if she’d caught him in some terrible act. “I tried not to, tried to remain professional.” He dropped his troubled eyes to his dick, which looked purple and swollen with the need to be relieved.
“It’s my fault,” she urged. “I shouldn’t have admitted what I was thinking about.”
He lifted his gaze to her, but his eyes changed, blackened. That scary lust was back, and she shivered from the top of her head to her toes.
“I already had my dick out by then. This is what you do to me. Seeing you, my little Penelope, spread out like that, listening to my instructions. Touching yourself.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Show me,” she whispered. “Stroke yourself off.” She started moving her fingers on her clit again. “I want to see what I do to you.”
“Turn the vibrator on. Hover it over your clit and touch it to yourself gently.” He spoke between clenched teeth. “I won’t last long, honey. You’ve got me ready to explode.”
She bit her lip and switched on the device, sliding it down between her legs, never taking her eyes off him. Her guardian started slowly pumping his fist up and down his impressive erection. He shifted closer to the glass.
At the first sensation of the toy on her clit, she gasped far louder than she’d meant to. It was incredible. Not like she expected at all. It was gentle, yet intense. Pulsing and stimulating in a way that sent sparkles behind her eyes.
“Fuck,” she gasped again. “What is this thing and where do I get one?”
But he ignored her words, his hand working his shaft with a single-minded purpose. He pressed his other hand against the glass, splaying his fingers wide, staring back and forth from her sex to her eyes and back again.
She adjusted the angle of the toy, mewling and squirming her ass on the table, glad her feet were secured in the stirrups, keeping her from falling off.
“Christ, little one,” Bishop growled, his hand pumping even faster. “You’re killing me. I can’t even control myself around you. I’m afraid I might snap and just take you.”
“God, yes!” she cried. “I’m going to come.” Her toes curled painfully against the stirrups and she felt all the muscles in her body strain and go rigid as the orgasm slammed into her, nearly making her pass out with its intensity.
As it pulsed through her body, bringing with it the most incredible waves of satisfaction, she forced her eyes open, locking them to her guardian’s.
He curled his lip in what looked like the snarl of a feral animal and dug his fingers into the glass like he could break it with his bare hands if he had to, to get to her. To get on top of her, get inside her. His shoulders dropped several inches as his knees seemed to buckle, and he came.
He groaned, a sound of deep relief and pleasure. Ropes of steamy, white cum splashed against the glass in front of him, coating it in the proof of what Pen did to him. She sighed, lapping up the sight of his release as her own climax faded from her body.
He bent his arm above his head, bracing his forehead to the glass with it. His eyes were closed, and he slid his fingers over his cock in a slowing rhythm until, finally, it seemed he’d milked all the cum from his balls.
“Fuck, Pen.” He breathed hoarsely. “Fuck, I want to come in there.”
She blinked, stunned at his admission, especially then, after he’d already gotten off, but apparently even satiating the present need wasn’t enough. She knew exactly how he felt. None of it ever seemed enough.
“Don’t say that to me,” she whispered. “You won’t come in, so don’t say those things to me. They hurt.”
He met her eyes for a moment, the scary black obsidian in his irises now faded to grey ash again. Though she knew she’d said the right thing, she immediately regretted discouraging him.
“Will you come in?” she asked. “Just hold me. That’s all. My head against your chest. That’s not a bad thing.”
His gaze was still locked with hers when he straightened. A moment later the wall was back, the glass between them suddenly changed to solid white.
“Bishop, no,” she called. “Wait there for me.”
She scrambled off the table as quickly as she could without falling. Her legs had been stuck in that position for a while. She pulled the heart-monitoring wires off and yanked her clothes back on, not bothering to button or zip anything.
But by the time she stumbled out into the main part of the lab, he was gone. The wet spot on the glass, the proof that he desired her as much as she did him, was wiped away, as if the moment had never happened.