The Experiment (5 page)

“Who is this man?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

The light over her chair suddenly clicked off and a light clicked on to her right. She looked over and her heart leaped into her throat. About ten feet from her was a thick glass or plastic wall, and on the other side of the wall a man sat in a chair just like hers. He was totally naked except for a cheap rubber devil mask that covered his head and
hid his features. He was thin but not skinny, his body masculinely hairy. He sat with his hands folded patiently in his naked lap, his penis lolling on his thigh.

“He cannot see you with the lights like this,” the Doctor said. “And he did not see you when you came in. He can’t hear us either, nor can you hear him. He is totally isolated from you. He knows there is a woman over here and he knows what is to happen, but that is all he knows. He is, as you probably suspect, another subject of the experiment, and one whose integrity and discretion I can fully vouch for. He is not a maniac. He is not a pervert. He is a man, just as you are a woman.”

Zoe heard what the Doctor was saying but she could not take her eyes from the man. The devil’s mask was a grotesque touch, but still it gave him a strange erotic attraction, surreal and perverse, and she felt it in the pit of her stomach. With the wall between them, it was almost as if she were watching him in a zoo.

“The mask, of course, is to protect his identity. I would suggest you wear a mask as well,” the Doctor said. “There is one under your chair. It might make you feel more relaxed.”

Zoe looked under her chair and found a plain, white, featureless mask that would slip over her face. There were holes for her eyes, a place for her nose, and a slit for her mouth. The mask was expressionless. It looked horrible to her, ghostly and macabre.

“You’re insane,” Zoe whispered.

“What you are really to do is provide visual stimulation for his masturbation,” the Doctor resumed in his calm and reasonable voice. “Your masturbation is not actually required
per se
. All you have to do is excite him sufficiently so that he reaches orgasm and the money is yours.”

Zoe looked at the Doctor’s shadow. “You mean if he doesn’t… Then I don’t get anything?”

“If he doesn’t ejaculate in ten minutes you still get your standard session fee, but, no, you do not get the thousand dollars. Nor does he get his money. But ten minutes is more than enough time, I would think. He’s a healthy young man.”

He waited for Zoe to say something, but she was speechless.

The light over the man snapped off, leaving the entire room in darkness except for the Doctor’s green-shaded desk lamp.

“Now, I’ll leave you to your task. When you’re ready to start, just say ‘ready’ and the lights will be switched on so that you can both see one another. I’ll start your ten minutes from there and when he completes his orgasm, he’ll signal me. I really don’t think you’ll have any problem.”

She saw the shadow of the Doctor as he stood up in the darkness.

“Wait!” she called out nervously. “I can still quit anytime, right? Just get up and leave?”

“The door is behind you, Ms. Alexander, and is open for you to leave at anytime, as always.”

He stood waiting for a moment as Zoe seemed about to say something more.

“Is there anything else?” the Doctor asked.

Receiving no answer, he said, “Then I’ll leave you now.”

The side door opened, allowing a shaft of dim red light to enter the room, as from a darkroom. The Doctor stepped into it and she saw him again, briefly, in silhouette, then the door closed with a soft but firm click, leaving her in darkness again.

She knew he was still watching. He had to be watching. This little show was costing him over a thousand dollars. He was probably videotaping it.

She didn’t know if she could do it. She didn’t know whether she could make a sexual spectacle of herself for a stranger, and she didn’t know how much visual stimulation a man needed to become erect enough to masturbate. From all she knew it wasn’t much. It was probably doable. The question was, could she do it?

She wanted the money. More than that, she wanted to be able to do this. Men had watched her before. Men had groaned and whistled and grabbed their crotches when she had walked by in a bathing suit, and Jack had often told her how she made men
hard just by the way she walked. But of course that had all been done in play, hadn’t it? Could she make a man hard just by showing herself? Could she make him ejaculate?

She started opening her blouse, and then stopped. Men liked to see women undress, she should save it for when he was watching.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest and her mouth went dry. She was very frightened and she didn’t know of what. She hated being frightened. It made her angry.

She put the mask over her face and tightened it. Her fingers were trembling slightly as she adjusted the straps behind her head. She took three deep, slow breaths and willed herself to relax. She thought of the door behind her. She knew she should leave.

“Ready,” she said.

The lights over her chair and over his chair snapped on at the same time and the two of them sat there staring at each other across the blackness. They were in this together now, partners in crime. They both needed each other if they were to get their money—a strange and bizarre kind of partnership.

He seemed rather tense sitting in his chair, though his body was relaxed. Or was it just her projection of her feelings? She of course could not see the expression on his face, but his attitude told her that he was not in the least embarrassed at being in this outrageous situation. His cock was big and semi-erect.

He spread his legs slightly so that she could see him better, see his testicles hanging heavily between his thighs, his big tool lolling like a thick club against his muscular leg. He was showing off to her, showing her what he had. He was also telling her that he wasn’t fully hard yet. He was waiting for her to start, waiting for her to do something.

Zoe stood up and walked toward the Plexiglas wall, letting him see her as she undid the buttons on her blouse. It wasn’t her sexiest skirt, but she knew her behind looked good in it, especially since she was wearing her highest heels. She turned her back to him and let him see her ass and her long legs as she continued unfastening the buttons.

She turned to face him again as she unbuttoned her sleeves. He was slowly pumping his hand up and down on his cock as he watched her, his hand moving slowly on that big, muscular pole. Already he was noticeably bigger and harder, and the sight of his hardening cock thrilled her to a degree she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t take her eyes from his hand as she pulled her blouse out of her skirt and let it slide off her shoulders. Her bra was the flimsiest scrap of lace, a demi-bra that just supported her breasts without covering them.

She looked at him to gauge his reaction. The devil mask was ludicrous, it gave him the look of an idiotic satyr, but she knew that the blank expressionless look on the mask she wore was no better. She could tell by the attitude of his body that he was watching her very closely. He had a very large penis and he worked it with lazy sensuality as he gazed directly at her so intently that she finally had to turn away. She knew he had a ways to go before he reached the urgent stage of masturbation. Right now he just seemed to be warming up.

She unfastened her skirt and slid it down over her hips, stepped out of it, and kicked it aside. Her stockings were charcoal gray. Her bra, panties and garter belt were snow white. Feeling slightly dizzy now, she bent and unhooked her stockings from the garter belt and let the belt fall.

She looked up at him and saw he was still staring straight at her. His cock was even bigger now, the purplish head clearly visible above his slowly moving fist. She imagined it entering her, imagined it stretching her pussy as it sunk into her. It had been a long, long time since she’d been fucked. She hadn’t even thought of sex in months, not until her last session here and now the pent-up hunger was reasserting itself with unexpected unusual force.

She realized that he was gesturing to her, making a circle with his index finger, telling her to go on, but she couldn’t take her eyes from his crotch, from his big balls rolling gently in his sac as he stroked himself. His cock was enormous now and her pussy ached with longing for it.

If she changed her focus, she could see her ghostly reflection in the Plexiglas and she was surprised at how good she looked, despite the bizarre mask. The curve of her hips was very sexy, her breasts ripe and full. The lines of her legs in the dark stockings were long and sensuous. She still thought of herself as a girl, but she looked at her reflection and saw a full-grown, fully developed woman. For once she didn’t see all her little imperfections, didn’t see her own face frowning back at her. She saw herself as men must see her and she liked what she saw. Her reflection turned her on.

She could shift her focus then and see him, how lean and hard his body was, how angular. She felt as though she might suddenly giggle and she knew it wouldn’t be from joy. She was frightened that she might be losing control of herself again. Her nerves felt as taut as bowstrings.

She reached behind to unfasten her bra, pushing her chest forward and her sensitive nipples, semi-erect, popped over the lip of the bra like two juicy cherries. She saw him start, then sit up taller and she had to repress a laugh of delight. Men were so simple—silly, really. She let the garment slide from her shoulders and stood with her arms crossed coyly over her chest for a moment before dropping them and exposing her breasts, staring boldly at the man across the way, waiting for his reaction.

He was pumping himself faster now, the movement of his hand focused and intense, but still without the desperation that would tell her when he was close. She knew he was looking at her breasts and she felt her nipples stiffen as he stared at her. His chest was rising and falling faster now and she wished she could hear him breathing, but there was only the soft hum of the air conditioner.

Her panties would be next and as she slid her hands down to the low waistband, she found that she was rocking her hips back and forth unconsciously, making the sheer crotch chafe softly against her labia. She was hot. She was getting very aroused.

The insane smirk on the devil mask never changed expression as his hand began to pick up the pace. Zoe knew that seeing her entirely naked would not do it for him. He
would need more, he was still too far away from climax. But her own nakedness and seeing her effect on him was getting her terribly excited.

She realized then that he was making as much a show of masturbating as she was of undressing. He was showing his cock to her, showing her how big and hard she was making him, displaying himself to her. They were locked together in this voyeuristic pantomime almost as lovers were locked together in their physical lovemaking. They were like two caricatures, two puppets acting out their desire for each other. The realization made her actually groan in frustration and heat.

You’re losing it, Zoe!
she told herself.
Just like the other night.

But she didn’t care, because really it felt like she wasn’t losing herself at all. If anything, she was rediscovering herself. She remembered these feelings. She felt hot, desirable, sensual and wonderfully dangerous. She had forgotten the feeling of teasing someone, the sexy ache, the nervous excitement and giddy sense of power. She had forgotten how good it had felt, how powerful and intoxicating.

Perhaps the Doctor was watching her through some camera or peephole, she didn’t care. She loved the way that the man opposite responded to everything she did with a nod of his head or an increase in his rhythm. She saw a glisten of pre-cum at the head of his cock and she saw him slowly fucking his hips up into his hand now in time to his pumping, just as he would pump his thick, hard cock into her pussy if he only could.

Now the anonymity of her own mask began to work on her. She was safe behind the mask, he didn’t know who she was. She was just a body, a symbol. She turned to face him and boldly took one hand from her panties and began to stroke herself between her legs, tracing the puffy seam of her labia and rocking her hips up lewdly to meet her fingers, fucking her hand for him, showing him what she wanted.

In response the man let his head roll back on his shoulders as if it were too much for him to stand. She knew he was groaning in frustration, even if she couldn’t hear him. He started to seriously jack his big cock now, moving the loose skin up and back as he watched her, squeezing the viscous lubricant from his glans.

Yeah, baby
, she thought.
Yeah, watch me and get your rocks off. You’d like to get in this pussy, wouldn’t you? You’d love to cram that big thing inside me and stretch me all out, wouldn’t you, you hot son of a bitch!

Her breath was coming hot and fast now, she smelled the plastic scent of the mask and her own perfume. Her hand at her pussy felt good and she loved what it made him do to his cock as he watched her touch herself. One of his hands slid quickly up and down his hard stalk while the other cupped and tickled his balls, his hips reaching off the chair as he fucked up into his hand. She could see his chest rise and fall with his excited breathing and she felt the wetness seeping between her legs.

Her reflection showed a demented she-demon, hips cocked forward, her stomach clenching as she fucked her hand, her body topped by that grotesque, featureless mask. It made her look sick and perverse and that only excited her more.