Mark's hands stop fiddling with the restraint on my wrist, instead he moves a hand into mine, and our fingers lock with each other's. I weakly squeeze my hand with his as his other hand pets through my hair.

"You want me to..." His voice trails off as his eyes and head turn to where my legs are still parted by the stirrups. "Are you sure?"

He is asking with a voice of concern and confusion, but his eyes glint at the opportunity, his smirk isn't hidden behind his words. Our eyes meet again, and I make a small nod.

"Please," I say it with a whisper, as if Dr. Ellis and Dr. Miller are listening through the doorway.

Mark's fingers leave mine, his other hand moves down from the top of my head to cup my face as he slowly continues to glide it further, brushing across my neck and over my collarbone. I push my chest up, and he knows what to do, his hand cups my left breast, his familiar fingers large, firm as he presses them into the needy flesh.

"Touch me," I let out a moan for him, and he moves his hand over to my right breast, matching his technique for it too.

As his right hand gives my breasts the relief they've craved, his other hand has found its way to my mound. Mark's palm is resting on my trimmed hairs as his fingers drape over the edge, providing warmth to my folds that Dr. Ellis' clinical touch lacked. I raise my hips a bit into his hand, the more relaxed position allowing for more movement than I've had in a while, even with the straps on my legs and hips still in place.

His hand on my breasts continue their work, feeling, squeezing, grazing my erect nipples, a single finger from his other hand finds its way between my pussy's lips, gliding down until he finds my entrance, and starts making small circles. Mark looks me in the eyes, a grin on his face.

"You're wet."

I can feel the red flush filling my face, the two words feel almost as embarrassing as everything else I've endured today. Everything that has happened has led to the those two simple words.

And it feels good. Not just his hands, not just his gaze, the embarrassment. Its stirring feelings in me deeper than any test the doctor performed. They may have touched me, photographed me in the most embarrassing and humiliating ways, and made me cum, but right now, the feeling I have is more than what they could pull out of me, it's a feeling of intimacy for Mark. I'm wet, I'm feeling good, and right now it's not for those doctors and their tests or cameras, it's for Mark and me.

"For you," I let out with a whisper.

My hips strain forward just a little, the strap across my waist not allowing much movement. They struggle to push forward, to try to convince his finger not just to tease my hole, enter it, take it.

Mark doesn't make me wait, but he also knows one finger won't be enough. Three fingers slide into me. His fingers are large, but the effects of the second test mean they have no issue sliding in. He doesn't tease, he finds the spot in me, and he is curling his fingers into it. Not in the hard clinical way Dr. Ellis did, cold, clinical, gloved and unpersonal. Mark's fingers know me, they know the right way to curl, the right way to press, the right way to move in and out with a precision that makes me openly moan still tied down to this table in just a few thrusts.

"Not so loud dear," for a split moment I'm worried he is going to put the gag back in, but instead his mouth finds mine, and we kiss. Or I should say he is kissing me, I'm more or less panting into his mouth as his tongue dives in. His right hand has left my breast for the kiss, it's gliding through my hair again, until he stops, taking a deep handful of it, not to pull on it, but to let me know he has me.

Between my panting I can hear it, the noises from my pussy, the leftover lubricant mixed with my own juices are coating Mark's fingers as they work me, like a piston in an engine they move with such reliance, squelching and filling the room with the noise from each move or his fingers. I can feel myself tensing, my pussy squeezing tighter around his thrusts. Mark's still kissing me, I turn my head just enough to say the words I know he wants to hear.

"I'm gonna-", he cuts me off

"Cum for me," he lets out as a whisper into my ear.

His thumb finds my clit, not moving except from the effects of his other fingers pumping in and out of me. But it might as well have been the launch button. Mark's hand firms even more in my hair, his other hand continues as I'm pushed over the edge and I'm cumming, my pussy clenching around his fingers and my back arches in a rigid fashion.

"Fuck oh fuck Mark, I'm cumming," I let out with a moan before I grit my teeth, conscious that this is still a doctor's office, that someone could be walking down the hallway just outside the door.

Mark's fingers continue just enough for a few moments, before slowly lowering their tempo to help bring me through my orgasm and out of it gently. My body untenses, I lay there, still bound, still spread, panting, but staring into Mark's eyes with a connection I've missed from every other orgasm today.

"I love you, you've done so well today," he tells me, giving me one more soft kiss before he stands back up straight, his three fingers still inside of me, unmoving, but his other hand letting go of my hair to cup my face once again. He looks down at me, his eyes a piercing gaze as he leaves his fingers where they are. I stare back, but I feel like I'm shrinking, becoming smaller, like I'm under control, his control, and it brings me comfort.

Finally his fingers withdraw with a wet sound. He holds his wet fingers up so that I can see them glistening from the overhead light.

"Still blue," he says with a lightheaded chuckle.

"Can you free my arms...I want to hit you," I reply back, a small smile presents on my face, the first one all day probably.

He wipes his fingers off on his own pants before he starts to work on my left wrist cuff. Even with it released I don't find myself moving my arm. Mark walks around to the other side to do the other wrist.

"Are you okay sweetheart?"

"I'm...that was all, so humiliating, with the doctors...," my voice trails off for a moment as Mark moves to release the strap under my breasts, releasing the clasp with ease as he pulls it off of me and lets it dangle on the other side.

My arms finally move, reaching up and grabbing his arm before he has a chance to move to the next binding.

"I did it for you, Mark," my words are soft, shy, timid embarrassed.

He smiles back at me, his other arm reaching to one of mine and gently resting on it reassuringly, "You did great, I'm proud of you, I know that was hard but you got through it."

I release his arm and he finishes his work, removing the next strap at my waist, then freeing both legs from the stirrups. He helps lift my own weak legs out of the them and back down before helping me sit up on the table. The room looks foreign, as if this was the first time I was in it all over again just from sitting upright.

There they are, the tools they used on me, a bottle of lube, a thin glass dildo,a larger silicon one, and a measurement tool, still set to the last measurement it took. They're simply laying on a cart next to the table, the sight of them sends a shiver up my spine.

Mark holds my hands as I stand shakily on my legs as I climb off the table. He brings my clothes to me, helping me step into my plain underwear, clipping my bra on for me even. I'm regaining my strength and my senses as I finish dressing myself, putting my skirt and top back on before sitting in a chair to slide my socks on my feet and stepping into my shoes.

Standing up, I feel the foreign sensation that is my own pussy soaking a bit into my underwear. I look back to the exam table, the straps and cuffs on it a reminder of what I've been through today. Mark grabs my hand, and leads me out the door into the office hallway. We walk through the short maze, turning a couple of corners until we come to the checkout desk. The lady behind the counter doesn't even look up from her computer.

"Do you want to schedule for next year's exam?" She asks with a bored tone that every medical office worker seems to be trained for.

Mark and I look at each other for a moment before he speaks up for me, "I think we will call in when it's closer to when the next appointment is due."

With that we left, walking through the lobby, past other women who are hopefully more comfortable and cooperative than I was, to spare them from the cruel restraints. We make it outside and to our car. I get into the passanger seat but don't buckle my seatbelt, Mark looks over confused by my hesitation.

I lift my ass off the seat for a moment, my hands dipping up below my skirt before finding the elastic bands of my underwear, pulling them down to my ankles as I slip them off and leave them on the car floor. My hands pat my skirt back down before I buckle my seatbelt, ensuring nothing can be seen before I look over to Mark with a smile. His face is worth it, confused, excited, surprised.

We smile at each other before he backs out of the parking space. I'm not sure if he ended up speeding but it seems like we got home a lot faster than it took to drive to this office.