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)
I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut as firmly as I could. Then, through their translucent lids, I saw a bright flash.
What?! I attempted yet again to demand, and heard yet again the sound of a gagged girl apparently trying to claim she knew better than the medical professional engaged in “caring” for her.
“Would you like to see your hymen?” the doctor asked. He sounded like he meant to sound sympathetic despite the words having no possible sympathetic meaning that I could imagine.
I shook my head violently, but I couldn’t stop myself from opening my eyes to see that he had held his phone up for me to see, even as his attention remained fixed on the place he had just, apparently, taken a picture of. Around the horrible ball in my mouth, I let out a cry of dismay. On the doctor’s phone was a much-too-clear image of the inside of my virgin vagina.
I managed to turn my head to the side as I tried to demonstrate that no, I absolutely did not want to see the physiological evidence of my immaturity, my failure to do the thing by age nineteen—the thing that bad girls, girls with smarts, were supposed to find a way to get over with long before they turned nineteen. But I only got my chin about twenty degrees to the left, and my eyes remained fixed in horrified fascination on the picture.
“It’s the whitish ring in the middle, there,” the doctor said in his fake helpful voice. “You can see the hole where it lets your menses come out. It’s a strange and unexplained feature of female anatomy, but when your new supervisors start to train you sexually, it should only take a moment of discomfort and then you’ll be able to enjoy yourself properly, when they allow it.”
I felt my jaw slacken yet again. My eyes for some reason went straight to Nurse Cathy. I had a sudden yearning to see her blush, too, at the degrading, terrifying ideas that the doctor must be putting into her head at the same time he put them into mine. But I found instead her little sneer, and I felt like I could read her mind, as unwelcome as the knowledge of her disgust seemed.
This little whore is going to hate it when her daddies deny her. She’s just that kind of girl… the kind who can’t live without pleasure, without good, hard fucking… the kind who can’t stop thinking about her daddies’ huge, hard cocks… the kind who’ll beg for them, wherever her firefighter stallions want to put them, as long as they let her come, once in a while.
I knew the logic didn’t work… was I the kind of girl who begged for cock because it felt good or despite it not feeling good? It didn’t matter at all, and the fact that as a virgin I had no basis for judgment and no experience with any kind of fucking at all made it much worse: I felt my hips twitch against the restraint of the webbing belt around my waist, and I felt myself clench hard down there, tightening against the beak of the speculum.
“Hmm,” the doctor said.
There was no way I could ever convey, in the letters of any alphabet, just how much humiliation he packed into that sound. His decision to leave his reaction there, without saying anything degrading, seemed to deepen the shame even further. He’d had until then no apparent hesitation in that department: my clench at his words and Nurse Cathy’s expression had, it seemed, actually made him so embarrassed for me that he hadn’t said anything at all.
Nurse Cathy had no such compunction. She didn’t even seem to try to stifle her giggle.
“Cathy,” the doctor said, glancing over at her.
My face puckered in distress at the admonition in his tone, and scalding heat mounted up the back of my neck and into my scalp.
“Sorry, doctor,” the nurse replied, her tone so contrite and even fearful that to my distress I instantly had another reason for embarrassment. I heard a note in Nurse Cathy’s voice that suggested that she might well know about paddling from firsthand experience.
The doctor’s next words seemed, dismayingly, to confirm that mortifying impression.
“It’s not only me you should apologize to,” the doctor said. He pulled the speculum out of my vagina. “Let me hear you do that before I get started on the rectal exam.”
I started to shake my head violently, trying to tell them that I had absolutely no need of an apology, but the doctor and his nurse seemed to have forgotten I lay there, bound naked to their exam chair, despite my being the fucking subject of their conversation.
“Doctor,” Nurse Cathy said, “please. She’s a convicted criminal.” She seemed caught between her fear of the consequences the doctor might impose and her indignation at the idea she might have to apologize to me.