Jo Is a Very Dirty Girl

Dressed in my tightest jeans and wearing a sleeveless, translucent top unbuttoned halfway, I knock at the anonymous door. After looking me up and down very thoroughly, the technician, who, I couldn't help noticing, is quite a handsome man, hands me an envelope. I peek into his eyes, but he is impassive, stern.

Your attendance fee, as discussed, Jo. You'll get the rest when this stage of the experiment has been completed to my satisfaction. Just to remind you, when the experiment starts, simply follow my instructions. My job is to record your behaviour by various means. You may opt out at any point, but if you do, the completion fee for that stage will be withheld. It's all in the contract of course.

I tear open the envelope. Twenty as agreed. I hadn't actually read the contract in full: too much small print, you know how it is. I had always been interested in psychology though, so when he approached me in the street this morning and asked whether I would like to be a paid volunteer for a psychology experiment, I took the flyer and I said I'd think about it. Normally I ignore such people.

I'd forgotten all about it when I got home, but when rooting through my handbag after lunch, there it was. Money was a bit tight, and I was strangely intrigued, so after a stiff drink, I decided to find out more and dialled the number. Before long I was reading the email that contained the details, such as they were.

It was all a bit vague, but it did state that some of the tests investigated attitudes and responses to sex, whatever that means exactly. This did make me a little wary, but I'm no prude and to be honest, I was even more intrigued. How bad could it be? Getting paid a little pocket money in the pursuit of science has to be both fun and worthy, though now that I am actually here I am feeling quite nervous.

I'm feeling very nervous, to be frank, but also somewhat excited. It's all very mysterious. Again, he slowly looks me up and down and then speaks.

Right, let's begin. I've chosen one of the standard introductory tests for you today and it starts right now. In front of you are two large vodkas. I want you to drink them down right now, one after the other.

I pause. This isn't normal surely?

This may appear odd Jo, but it is an important and mandatory part of the test. You need to decide whether you wish to participate. Do as you are told. Immediately.

He didn't look like he wasn't going to budge. I almost walked out the door right then, but some urge inside held me back. Maybe it was the free drinks. Certainly curiosity and the prospect of the completion fee paid a part. I wish I hadn't had that drink earlier. I picked up one glass and downed it, then the other. All gone in ten seconds. I placed the second glass back down triumphantly, slightly light-headed. See, I can do this.

Good on you Jo. I think you'll make an excellent subject, though we'll see soon enough if that really is the case. As soon as I saw you in the street I had an inkling about you, but I didn't expect to see you this soon. He makes an entry on his notepad, then licks his lips.

Some parts of this experiment may surprise you Jo, but there is no need to be offended or alarmed; no need to take it too personally. The steps are the same for each person doing it. We need to make accurate measurements. I'll just be reading my instructions and monitoring your responses. Just routine, but experiments of this type are bound to be a bit awkward. That's the sort of thing we are probably testing. I can't tell you exactly what we are testing as that would bias the results. I'm sure you understand. I can tell that you are very intelligent.

The alcohol has dazed me somewhat, I don't usually drink spirits; so I just nod. At least he rates me.

Jo, you realise that you are dressed like a dirty slut, don't you?

Ooh, Mr Technician, I guess that we really have started. Shall I call you Mr Technician, I add with a giggle.

For this experiment, Jo, you will call me Sir. It will feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it. Now Jo, do you feel slutty? Nice bum, it looks like you've been poured into those jeans. And if I stand at this angle, I can see right down your top. I'm sure you received many admiring glances as you walked here.

I don't feel too slutty, sir, and besides, you told me to dress like this. I had no choice.

We both know that Jo, but you must answer the question. This is a serious experiment, so don't question me. You feel slutty don't you?

OK, I do a bit, sir.

Good girl. You are a little cutie. It's interesting that you don't consider your attire to be particularly slutty.

Well, I do feel a bit naughty, being forced to dress to your requirements, and with you looking at me that way.

Does that make you blush, Jo? Is your heart beating faster?

You know I am blushing now. I can feel it. Yes, my heart is racing even more now, Sir.

He makes some notes. OK, good. Verbal responses are very important, but are not sufficient. I'm now going to attach various sensors to you, so that I can measure and monitor you more accurately. They are wireless, so you don't have to worry about getting too tangled. The data will be fed into my computer. Hold out your wrists.

I nod nervously. It all seems strange, but logical enough. I suppose this is as good a way as any to test human responses.

He applies a band to each of my proffered wrists, then tightens them with their Velcro attachments. As he taps away studiously on his laptop, I examine them. Stainless steel rings were embedded in the bands. Tight but not uncomfortable. Curious.

Jo, roll this die.

I hesitate, but do as instructed. I've come this far, so may as well carry on. Well, that's what I tell myself.

I spin it with great anticipation. It rolls for ages. At last it stops: a Four.

Is this randomness supposed to excite me, sir? Old hat you know, to me. Secretly I am excited though and examine his eyes for clues.

He consults his monitor. You are cheeky Jo. Ah, you're lucky, nothing to worry about. A Four just means that you will undo the last few buttons on your blouse.

I am certain that the technician will have noticed the effect this instruction has on me. I blush anew and my pulse is off racing again. Do I want to do this? I'm unsure. The competing urges of excitement, obedience, fear and independence battle it out. Obedience and excitement win, so eventually I do as I am told. My blouse is now completely open at the front, exposing my bra and skin. I'm quite proud of my figure, so that aspect won't be a problem.

Jo, weren't you instructed to not wear a bra?

Um, yes, er Sir, but I didn't think it would matter.

In other words you were too lazy to think about it. Slutty and lazy. Do you want your fee? Are you trying to sabotage this experiment? Do you understand English? Are you wasting my time Jo? Are you going to behave like a responsible adult, one who keeps their promises? Should I demand that you leave here right now and not come back?

I pause, taken aback by his tone. I am no longer sure what I want. In the end, it may have been the usefulness of the money that made up my mind, but deep inside, I knew that wasn't the only reason that chastened, I meekly said: no, I don't want to leave, Sir.

Are you sure Jo? Will you do exactly what I demand of you?

Yes, sir.

OK then, but you are on your last warning. Jo, I am now going to refer to you as a slut. I may well use other terms too. Is that correct, you dirty slut? Are you a very dirty slut, Jo?

I inhale deeply, emotions awry. It is probably a lot easier to just go along with it. On one level it is silly - laughable, but it still feels strange and exciting. Play the game, McCann. I suppose I have made an agreement and it might make it even more interesting. Another part of me reinforces this decision: my cunt is damp.

Yes sir, I really am a very dirty slut. Very, very dirty. Probably the muckiest girl you've had.

Excellent, but I remain to be convinced. We'll see about that. A comment is typed into the laptop.

Stand very still Jo. Raise your arms above your head, now.

I do as I am told this time. No delay.

He approaches me, walks around me, tousles my hair, pinches my nose to cut off the air and stares into my eyes. I am forced to open my mouth and he slowly and firmly pushes two fingers into it, pressing against my tongue and then against the back of my throat. I cough. He withdraws his fingers slightly, still staring into my eyes. I can then feel the fingers go in deeper again and this time I manage to suppress the cough reflex. The fingers are slowly withdrawn and then wiped on my face. I shiver.

Lower you arms and place them at your side.

I gratefully do so; they were becoming tired.

Near my shoulders, he tugs and nudges at my gaping blouse, teasingly pushing till my shoulders are bare, the garment only held on by my arms; then with a brisk yank down, the top falls to the floor. I look down. I hope it doesn't get too crumpled.

Now, Jo. Since you've deliberately worn a bra, the experiment determines that this is the next step. You knew full well what your instructions were. Fortunately, this possibility was accounted for, so there is no great harm, but there will be cases where disobedience will have serious consequences. Do you understand slut Jo?

Yes, I think so, but what exactly are you testing? Humiliation?

I'm afraid I can't tell you precisely what we are testing Jo, it would bias the results. But I'm pleased that you are wondering. It is possible that the purpose of the test is to determine your humiliation threshold, but it may just be to distract you from something else. Alas I cannot tell you more.

Now, shut up and put your hands behind your back.

I grudgingly obey. He moves behind me and gently rubs his fingers up and down my arms, tickling, rubbing, caressing, pinching. I can then feel him pass a soft silk rope through the rings on my wrist wraps, binding them together, palm to palm. I say nothing and wonder whether he has noticed my shiver. The rope is then wrapped round and round, loop by loop up my arms to the elbows where it is tied off. Each wind of rope pulls my shoulders back slightly and my little breasts jut out slightly further. I'm sure he notices.

Job done, he returns to face me and watches with a smile as I find that my arms are almost helpless, immobile. I can only move them up and down a little. I seem to have good blood flow though, so it is relatively comfortable in a strange way. Quite nice and sexy almost. Oh dear, I really am being a good subject.

He holds my wrists and raises them, causing me to bend at the waist and project my rear. My jeans are already very tight and I'm sure that with the extra stress on them, he must have a good view. This thought, combined with the realisation that my panties must almost be visibly damp by now and the downward motion of my head, brings a noticeable flush to my face. He smiles at this and sticks three little patches on my face.

Now Jo, do you feel like a proper slut?

I laugh. It still seems a bit silly. Yes, sir, I must be a slut to have allowed myself to get in this position.

That's a good answer Jo, but I would suggest that laughter isn't an appropriate response. Time for you to become an even looser slut.

He reaches directly between my legs, runs his hand along my pussy and undoes the button of my jeans. He watches me carefully, but I say nothing and offer no resistance. Next comes the zip and slow peeling down of the jeans from the hips. They are so tight, he is forced to tug firmly. Bit by bit they are pulled down, but once over my bottom, a quick yank is enough to bring them bunched to my knees. It takes me a moment to appreciate that he's taken my knickers with them. Apart from my bra, I am naked above the knees. I note my inner tingle, deep inside.

Feeling like a dirty little slut now Jo?

Again I laugh, mainly from nervousness, but his smile is cruel.

Suddenly, he abruptly raises my arms to their limit and spanks me hard and neat on my taut, inviting rear.

It completely takes me by surprise and I gasp loudly, eyes watering. Slowly the heat envelops my smacked behind. My face feels beet red.

The facial sensors seem to be working properly states the technician matter-of-factly, as he examines his screen.

He returns. More intimate sensors for you, Jo. I do hope they've been calibrated properly, they only go up to ten.

Your arse now wears an excellent hand print, Jo, in case you are interested. Now that I have gained access, I'll insert the major probe. Brace yourself.

He reaches between my thighs and slowly raises his hands, getter closer and closer, until the target is reached. One thumb parts a lip and the other, another. Still disoriented, I gasp and shake slightly. As he expertly guides in the warm, slippery probe I feel my cunt expand. I daren't look.

Perfect. Your moisture levels are now being accurately measured Jo. To be honest, your cunt is so wet I could have inserted the probe bone dry, but we need to be consistent with our testing.

Now for the clitoral callipers. Hmm, a good size already, let's do some tests. He rubs and flicks my clit so vigorously that I can barely stand.

Another measurement is taken. Ooh, nice and swollen, so all seems to be working nicely Jo. I can see that your clit has taken quite a battering recently. I'm impressed, but that's what one would expect from a slut, eh Jo? Can't keep your hands off your clitoris eh?

I redden, but decline to comment: too intent on maintaining my balance, mind akimbo.

I asked you a question, Jo. Cat got your tongue? And with that he grips my clit tighter and tighter till I can stand it no more.

Yes, yes, I almost scream. That is what one would expect from a dirty slut like me, sir.

That's better Jo. He softens his grip, but continues to rub and tease, mixing vigour with subtlety. Then he stops. Can't have you coming quite yet, Jo. From now on, everything done to you is being measured precisely. If an action alters pussy moisture or clit size, the sensors and probe will transmit that fact. You might be surprised at the sort of things that might cause that, though in your case, we can probably guess.

Now Jo, you've brought this next stage on yourself. You know what I'm talking about: the bra you were instructed not to wear. Disobedient or lazy subjects require special tests. It's only fair, but for a dirty girl like you, it should be no problem.

No, that's not fair. That's all I get to say before I receive a sensual clit rub combined with two quick spanks on the bum.

He returns to his computer. You're doing well Jo. These are some of the most interesting readings I've seen, but of course I can't tell you why.

I don't know quite what to say to that, so I say nothing. I consider demanding that this stops now, but I'm feeling very mixed emotions. There's also the money and my dripping cunt. I decide to carry on. My bottom is a little sore, but warmth is the main impression.

He passes yet more soft rope between my bound wrists and passes the end through a ring attached to a beam on the ceiling, finally attaching the end to a point on the other side of the room. My wrists begin to rise higher and higher, forcing my torso down, such that my upper body is almost parallel to the floor.

The technician glances at the monitor and comments: that's done wonders for your moisture levels Jo and we'll see what happens next. With this little paddle I will beat your little breasts like a red-headed stepchild. Ah, that statement's had an impact on you too, Jo. You certainly are an interesting subject. He gives her clit a quick rub as he unclasps Jo's bra, raises it and rewraps it around Jo's neck.

What lovely little breasts you have Jo. Hanging down sweetly like that. He takes a firm grip and tugs slowly on a nipple, and since Jo is pinioned, she cannot move downwards, causing both nipple and breast to slowly extend. As he does so, his fingers revisit Jo's clit as he monitors her levels on the screen. He then takes two rubber bands, stretches them wide and places one on each breast.

Then, smack. The paddle slaps at Jo's breasts, one after the other. Usually softly, but sometimes not. The delicate, pert breasts swing and wobble. A pause and then more clitoral attention. Check the readings, some paddle slaps and then back to the clitoris. Some gentle nipple rubs, then a slap; all the permutations. The more data the better.

With some people Jo, we find that the clitoral attention creates the most moisture, for some it is the words and anticipation and for some the impact. You do well on all fronts, you dirty, skanky girl.

After a pause, he looks at his watch, accelerates and before long I am brought to climax. Once my breathing starts to return to normal, the technician efficiently unbinds me and removes the sensors. Then the probe is slowly withdrawn, making a quiet plop sound. To my shame, a droplet of pussy juice splashes onto the floor.

I am stunned. Is that it? Is it all over already? Too quick.

All done Jo, just getting the preliminary results. Yes, as expected you are eligible to attend again, as you belong in one of our missing demographics. So, here's your fee and whenever you feel up to another experiment, contact us. Too easy, eh? That's if it all wasn't too traumatic for you. He smiles.

As I dress, I peek into the envelope. Only twenty more? That's not much, sir.

No need to call me sir now that the experiment is over, but you may if you wish. Yes, our budget is limited, but if you like, you can apply for some of the better paid experiments. In fact, we're looking at extending some experiments that haven't been performed since the 1970's. I think they might really suit you.

He shows me to the door and still somewhat stunned, I leave without another word. As the door clicks shut I realise that I am still disoriented. Part of my self still seems to be on the other side of the door.

Maybe I will allow myself to be tested again. Forty isn't a lot of money, but it is forty I didn't have this morning. In fact, I think I will apply to participate in another one. I've got quite a spring in my step. In fact, I feel great. I wonder what those 70's experiments involved and why were they stopped.

I return to the door and knock. The technician opens it slightly. Yes?

Um, I think I have decided to do another experiment. Later this afternoon? Would that be OK?

Sorry Jo, at this stage only one per day maximum. Check your emails when you get home though.

A wave of disappointment hits me and I sigh involuntarily. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

Maybe, he says, and closes the door.