I did as he bid and held up the long dress just to my knees, glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Bridger, who observed closely. Doctor Graham knelt before me and reached beneath, undoing the lock at the back. The harness slid down my legs and I took a breath, relieved to be free of its confines, but the slickness from the ointment remained. I longed to reach beneath and touch the places I hadn't been able to before, but squashed the idea instantly. What would Mr. Bridger think of such immoral actions? Doctor Graham stood back up and placed the harness on the table.
"I see you've been given ointment to use."
"Didn't want her pretty pussy to get chafed, Doc." Mr. Bridger replied for me in a most possessive manner.
The doctor nodded. "Good thinking, but I need to make sure that's not happening. Up on the table, Devney."
I froze in place. He wanted to...that wasn't a good idea. I'd just tell him and that would be the end of it. "I'm not chafed," I replied, backing slowly away from them and toward the door. They couldn't look at me there. Could they tell I'd touched myself, even with the leather as a barrier?
"Perhaps not, but the harness is to help you, not to cause you harm. I don't want that and neither does Mr. Bridger. I think he has plans for that pussy and wouldn't want to be curtailed."
I glanced at Mr. Bridger and he smiled, his teeth white and straight. It only made him even more handsome. I had no idea what he had in mind, but if it was to touch me...there, perhaps I wouldn't mind. I was going insane! Why did I think such lurid thoughts? I was considering his touch to be appealing, not repulsive.
"Up on the table, please," Doctor Graham repeated.
Still, I couldn't move. I was too modest for something such as this. Mr. Bridger took the two steps between us, placed his large hands gently about my waist and lifted me upon the hard surface. "Lie back, baby." His voice was deep, yet quiet, his breath fanning against the nape of my neck. "Let me take care of you."
I still paused.
"Or I can spank you for not doing as I say, then you can lie back. Your choice." He was serious. His gaze was half tenderness, half sternness. How could he have any tender feelings if he wanted to spank me? The very idea had me obeying.
Slowly, I lay back against the cool wood, keeping my eyes on him as I did so.
"Bend your knees up," Doctor Graham told me.
Mr. Bridger must have seen something there, some hint to my feelings, because he slowly positioned my feet against the surface for me.
"Pull your dress up, please."
I looked down my body at both men. Doctor Graham stood at the end of the table, Mr. Bridger to my side, although I knew as soon as I lifted the bottom of my dress, they'd both be able to see me. There.
"Do you want to do it or do you need help?" Mr. Bridger asked, his gaze still pinned to mine.
With shaky fingers, I tugged the hem of my dress to my waist in one quick yank, the cool air raising goose bumps on my legs.
"Good girl," Mr. Bridger murmured before standing up to his full height.
Both men stared at me intently, but I watched Mr. Bridger for reaction. His jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed in intensity as he looked at my exposed body. "That's one gorgeous pussy, baby," he whispered.
"I don't see any chafing, but her pussy lips are very red and swollen." Doctor Graham's voice was calm. Clinical. "Did the harness hurt you?"
I shook my head, my hair sliding over the tabletop.
"Then you shouldn't be so swollen."
"Did you touch yourself, baby?" Mr. Bridger asked, his eyes meeting mine. His gaze was so intense; I felt like a bug pinned to a tray. He didn't appear angry or upset. In fact, he seemed very attentive. Concerned. Protective.
"No. I couldn't." My tone sounded very disappointed.
"Ah," Doctor Graham said softly.
"But you wanted to, didn't you? Did you rub the harness against your pussy? Is that why you're all swollen? Did you ache there?" Mr. Bridger put a hand on the table by my hip and leaned down so his face was close to mine once again. "Do you ache there now?"
I felt my inner muscles clench involuntarily at his words. My cheeks were heated, flushed. I could feel it.
"You do, don't you, Devney? You're just afraid to admit it." He stroked a hand across my forehead, gently pushing my hair back.
I closed my eyes against Mr. Bridger's verbal assault on my willpower.