Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
My eyes had opened wide enough that I could feel the tension in the muscles of my forehead and my cheeks. Again I tried to say What?! and this time the urge to speak was strong enough that I made a humiliating, inarticulate noise around the pink silicone ball between my teeth. I swallowed desperately, clearing my mouth of the saliva that kept flowing as I tried to get used to the mortifying feeling of having my voice taken away by the horrid thing.
The awful pink thing that I now understood must in fact have the sexual meaning I had tried hard to pretend couldn’t actually be involved in this protocol.
They told me it was… hygienic! I wanted to scream at the doctor and the nurse. After sentencing, the officers—who knew what organization they belonged to, given that so many different ones controlled law and order in our brave new world of economic collapse—had come to the table where I sat with my court-appointed legal aid. I’d heard that they used to appoint an actual lawyer, but that had to have been years ago at least.
My legal aid had told me that she’d gotten me an amazing deal. A program for non-violent offenders with a work placement.
“We’re here to take Marianne to the on-boarding for her program,” said one of the two non-descript officers. “Just a hygiene check with a doctor and she’ll be on her way to her new life.”
The nurse had helped the doctor strap me down to the exam chair, while the officers, who had stripped my jail uniform off me, held me down so that all the webbing restraints could be easily fastened, pinning me almost motionless to the awful thing. They had parted my legs despite my futile attempts to struggle, and put my knees in the stirrups, where the nurse on one side and the doctor on the other had deftly secured them in place. The officers hadn’t neglected to look between my spread thighs, either.
“Nice little bush,” one had said, as he gazed down with a smile at the tuft of golden fur that covered my pussy. “Especially for nineteen. Shame you have to lose it, I’d say.”
“No one asked your opinion, officer,” the doctor had replied, sounding annoyed. “Thanks for your help. We’ll take it from here.”
I had felt, I remembered now with horror, grateful to him. I had thought he actually cared about me—even that he had felt sorry for me and annoyed with the corporate justice system for putting mostly innocent girls like me through this craziness.
Not anymore. When I asked my desperate, wordless question through the gag—what the actual fuck is going on here?!—the doctor turned to me with a cold look on his face.
“You tried to steal—what, Marianne?—a hundred thousand dollars, wasn’t it? Do you think you’ve earned the chance to live a pampered life as a sexual servant?”
I tried to say, A what?! and then I cursed myself for forgetting about the horrible fucking gag yet again.
A what?! He had said what I thought he had said. I had paid too close attention to have gotten that wrong, hadn’t I? The doctor had actually said sexual servant.
I stared at him—glared at him—and I watched his mouth curve up at one side, into an amused little sneer. My heart pounding as I swallowed down my spit once a second, it felt like, I turned to the nurse. Her attention remained focused between my legs, on the clipper that kept buzzing and moving, shearing away my private curls. What the doctor had said hadn’t surprised her at all.
Pampered life?
Sexual servant?!
“Well,” the doctor continued, “I suppose, Marianne, if what they tell us about the program is accurate, life won’t be that pampered. You’ll work for your daddies in less pleasant ways than your bedroom service, or your backside will feel the paddle.”
To my astonishment, the nurse made a contribution to the one-sided conversation then, just as the awful vibration moved downward over my perineum, sending a mortifying rush of unwelcome arousal through my nervous system.
“I hear firefighters spank hard, too,” she said, meditatively.
If I thought my eyes had opened wide before, I realized now that I had facial muscles to stretch that I hadn’t even guessed at. The way she had spoken suggested so many different things, all of them somehow both terribly shameful and dismayingly fascinating. Where was the outrage an apparently nice, normal, middle-aged woman—with a career in healthcare, no less—should feel about… about…
Firefighters… spank…
What the ever-loving fuck was going on?
“Oh, really?” the doctor asked. “I suppose that’s something.”
Involuntarily, my eyes returned to his face and his condescending, sarcastic smile.
“Still,” he said, looking back into my eyes with a steadiness that made the heat surge again into my cheeks, “it seems a good deal more than a little swindler like you deserves, doesn’t it, Marianne?”