Chapter 7 The Entitlement of Man #2
Cool air teased her belly as she lifted her shirt.
Goosebumps rose on her flesh as a shiver chased up her spine and down her arms. Her bra joined the pile on the chair against the wall, slightly grey from washing.
Her nipples tightened in the cool air, and she quickly slipped into the paper gown, closing it like a robe at the front.
Once she was covered, she removed her bottoms and turned.
“Family medical history,” Dr. Tannh?user said, still facing away.
“Pardon?”
“Any hereditary conditions? Heart disease? Cancer?”
“Pulmonary fibrosis.” Daisy’s throat tightened. “My mother…recently passed. They think it was from chemical exposure at her job.”
“I see. And your father?”
“I…I don’t know. He wasn’t around.”
She shivered in the cold, bright room, vulnerable in ways that went beyond the physical.
“Have a seat on the table.” He gestured while making a note in her file.
Daisy awkwardly perched on the edge, clutching the thin paper blanket over her thighs, the stiff material crunching loudly with every tremor.
Dr. Tannh?user twisted from the counter, his eyes traveling over her with professional detachment that somehow felt anything but professional. “Let’s begin.”
The blood pressure was quick and only slightly elevated. Her temperature was normal. When he pressed the cold stethoscope against her chest, under the paper gown, she stopped breathing.
“Deep breath in.”
She forced herself to inhale, her ribs expanding as his touch moved lower.
“Out.” His cologne reminded her of leather and cedar. “Good. Again.”
Another breath in and out.
He removed the stethoscope so abruptly, scribbling another clinical note in her file.
It was ridiculous to be this nervous. “Sorry. I’m not used to doctors.”
“No? That’s okay. We’re almost finished. Let’s get your weight and height.”
She stood on the scale in the corner, the old-fashioned kind with a sliding counterweight.
“Hold still.” His body heat warmed her back through the thin paper gown as he adjusted the weights.
“Five feet five inches, one hundred six pounds.” His tone shifted to disapproval.
“Underweight. Not dangerously so, but notable. We’ll need to ensure you’re properly fed during your stay.
” He set a basket of vials on the metal tray and patted the table. “Up you go.”
She couldn’t seem to settle, and her heart was beating harder than usual.
“Make a fist.”
He tied a tourniquet around her arm and tightened it so the skin bulged. She sucked in a breath when the needle sank into her skin, then he released the band from her arm and drew several samples of her blood. It was over quickly, ending with a small piece of cotton taped over the puncture mark.
“Hard part’s over. Lie back.”
She stiffly reclined on the table, the paper gown crunching loudly with every shift. His eyes traveled down her body, his hands gently uncrossing her wrists from her chest, placing them at her side. “Twenty-two, right?”
It took her a moment to realize he was confirming her age. “Yes.”
“Sexually active?” He opened her gown.
“N-no.”
He cocked his head, cool fingers lowering to her breast. “Is this your first gynecological exam?”
Her face burned. “Yes.”
“Preventive care is important, Ms. Burdan.”
“Preventative care costs money,” she said robotically.
“Everything always comes down to money, doesn’t it?” He clinically pressed into her breast tissue, feeling around the nipple. “Money’s a great equalizer. Or rather, the great divider.”
He glanced at her, briefly making eye contact with a smile. She didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing.
“Breasts feel fine.” He snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “Next, I’ll examine you for any existing marks or injuries. Some photography is involved—strictly for documentation purposes, you understand. A baseline before the hunt.”
“Hunt?” Was she allowed to say it? “You mean the Feast?”
He chuckled. “Sure. Stand up, please.”
She closed the gown and scooted off the table, moving in front of the wall where he waited with a digital camera.
“Remove the gown.”
Her throat went dry. Head down, eyes on the floor, she slipped out of the gown. Her lungs forgot how to breathe smoothly in and out.
Hands at her sides, she gripped the paper shield in her fist as he circled her like a buyer at an auction. His gloved fingers lifted her arms, examined her wrists, traced the blue veins showing through her pale skin, and lingered on the faint scars on her knees.
“These?”
“Old. From when I was a kid.”
He photographed each scar, clinical and thorough. “We need an overall record for your file.” He stepped back and spots danced in her vision as the flash went off again. “Turn.”
She faced the wall, and the room silenced. A chill drifted down her spine as goosebumps rose on the backs of her thighs. The camera flashed and clicked.
“Back on the table, please.”
She searched for the armhole of the gown.
“You don’t need that.” He held up the paper blanket, waiting for her to sit.
Excruciatingly aware of her nakedness, she climbed onto the table, nothing between his eyes and her body except cold air and the remnants of her dignity.
“Good girl. Lie back.”
Stiffer than a corpse, she reclined.
“Feet in the stirrups, please.” When her stiff legs wouldn’t cooperate, he guided her heels into place. “Now, scoot forward.”
She shifted but barely moved.
“A little more.”
“Ohmygod…” she murmured under her breath, sliding her body to the very edge of the table, painfully aware of his view.
“Good.” He draped the paper blanket over her thighs and lowered to a stool, dropping out of her line of vision.
He moved the bright light closer, and when the stirrups widened, she wanted to die.
“Try to relax.”
She flinched at the first touch of his gloved hand.
“Sensitive?”
“I’m not used to being touched.”
“No?” Latex brushed across her inner thigh. “That will change soon.”
Before she could respond, his hands moved to the juncture of her thighs.
“I’m going to examine you internally now. It may be uncomfortable if you’ve never—” His fingers sank inside of her, and the world stopped spinning. “I see.” His touch drew back ever so slightly, but his fingers still rested inside of her. “A virgin.”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
“Do they know?” His voice gentled.
She shook her head, the motion jerky and small.
“Interesting.” His fingers spread her flesh wider. “This could make things...difficult for you. The hunt can be quite...vigorous.”
She swallowed. “I’m aware.”
“Are you?” He rose from his stool to stand over her. The second his fingers left her, she exhaled. “Can I ask why?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re twenty-two, pretty enough…I mean no judgment.”
“It’s not some moral decision I made.”
“So, it’s merely circumstantial?”
“I…I suppose.” This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had.
“I could remedy the situation for you. Quickly. Painlessly. Make your first experience less...traumatic.”
Her heart pounded in her ears.
He rested a hand on her knee, dragging it slowly down her calf. “Would you like me to help you with that, Daisy?”
Her name in his mouth sounded obscene, like ownership.
She opened her mouth to refuse, to demand he remove his hand, to—
He cupped her sex, and the tip of his longest finger pressed forward.
Just slightly. Just enough to breach her entrance and slip inside.
“Try to relax.”
The strange intrusion stirred a surge of wet heat as he dipped his finger slowly in and out. A strangled sound escaped her throat as her body reflexively yielded to him.
“Very good.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
He cautiously explored her. Testing. Was this part of the exam?
“You have a healthy response to touch. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
The locket around her neck slipped from her collarbone, sliding behind her shoulder. Dr. Tannh?user’s eyes followed the movement. Fingers still wedged inside of her, he reached for the locket.
“May I?” He opened the locket before she answered. His head cocked to the side. “Your mother?”
Acutely aware of his other hand, Daisy swallowed tightly and nodded, unable to speak.
“You have her eyes.”
She reached up and closed the locket, sliding it around to the back of her neck where it would stay safely out of his reach.
He smiled at the protective motion and hummed with amusement. “You’ll need that instinct tomorrow. If I were you, I’d put that locket in a safe place—if it’s important to you.”
He moved back to the foot of the table, but held eye contact as his finger pressed down into the base of her opening. “How does that feel? Any pain?”
“No,” she said tightly.
“And this?” He traced the opening of her sex in a way that made her body clench. “Any pain or discomfort?”
“No. No pain.”
“How about this?” His thumb dragged higher, and her breath hitched. “A little sensitive?”
Her brow knit as she gave a tight nod.
“That’s good. That’s exactly how your body should respond.” He withdrew his fingers and lowered to the stool. Her knees knocked together only to have him press them apart. “Not yet. I need to take a deeper look inside.”
He adjusted the lamp and reached for an instrument on the tray. Metal clinked, and his fingers breached her again.
“A little pressure.”
She gasped as he inserted the metal device and opened it.
“Beautiful. No hymenal lacerations. Everything looks…healthy.” He paused for an eternity. “Ripe.”
She stared, unblinking, at the ceiling.
Her jagged breath disrupted the silence.
He breathed in—slow and deliberate—as if smelling her.
Her eyes widened.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
When his breath ghosted against her most intimate flesh, she knew something was wrong. Doctors weren’t supposed to touch women like this.
Her mouth wobbled around soundless words.
“You don’t say much, do you?” He adjusted the speculum and withdrew the metal device, only to cover her sex with the palm of his hand. “Sometimes, that’s a good thing.”