“No,” I reply honestly. “These matters are usually sent to the doctor.” I do not add, ‘I did not want him to administer this.’ When she does not move toward her bed, I say, “Please lie down on your bed and proceed.” Then it occurs to me that she might need the doctor, “You do know how? You have done this before?”

“I know how, but it has been a long time,” she says as she moves from her desk to her small bed. “You make me feel like this is a safe place.”

“You are always safe with me,” I say.

“Are you going to touch yourself at the same time?” she asks.

“I would not dishonor you in that way,” I reply. “You have my full attention; please begin.”

Volunteer 4711 is on her back. Her legs are bent and spread apart. She begins caressing between her legs over the black fabric of her underwear lightly. Up and down. Her eyes are closed. She is ignoring me now as she should, deaf and dumb to everything but her body’s needs. This is her time, and I am merely a guest here.

After five minutes of caressing her sex between her legs, she puts her hand inside the front of her underwear, moving it more fiercely, and her other hand fondles one of her breasts over her bra. It takes all my strength not to touch myself while watching her. But she is too beautiful, and I do not want to overshadow her purity with my own desires. But I am a fool if I think this memory will not haunt my own releases for the rest of my life.

Soon she is whimpering, a sound that my penises react to like some natural call to procreate. I watch eagerly as her muscles begin to tense. She strokes herself faster and harder in her underwear, clutching her breast more firmly, her hips off the bed, and her eyes shut. She is so magnificent, this Water woman. I find myself entranced by her actions and both looking forward to seeing her release as much as never wanting her to stop touching herself. Finally, her whole body rocks with a pleasure that ripples through her, the hand in her underwear slows but does not stop as she caresses her body and mind back to this moment. After a minute, she opens her eyes and then, as if she had forgotten I was watching, moves off the bed, and her flushed face fills the screen.

“How do you feel?” I ask, needing my own release now.

“Better,” she replies, and her eyes are searching mine for something. Then she asks, “Will you watch next week?”

“Yes,” I reply, and I hope keeping the excitement from my voice. This is my moral responsibility, not a pleasure. But my mind is already questioning, Why can’t it be both?

CHAPTER 11

VOLUNTEER 4711

The Commander turns off the camera, and his silver face disappears. I wash my hands, use the toilet and climb into bed. I think about what just happened. At least now I have answers for what the doctor did to me on the farm. Silvers obviously believe that to be healthy, you must have an orgasm a week. I’m not sure about the validity of this medical advice, but I enjoyed having the Commander watch me. It felt safe.