Chapter 6
Heather
Whore.
I flinched at the crude word, my arms tightening around my knees. “That’s not—”
“See?” Dr. Hamelin gestured to Nurse Simmons, who was watching our exchange with professional interest. “Already lying. Already trying to convince us that the woman who moans ‘fuck me harder’ in the shower every morning is somehow different from the woman sitting naked on my examination table.”
The heat in my cheeks was unbearable. Were the transcripts from the recordings of me in the shower part of my medical chart, now?
Your permanent record. I hadn’t ever broken the law, but somehow the idea of a random doctor being able to read what I had said while playing with myself seemed worse than having a felony in my file.
“Your body won’t lie, though, Heather,” Nurse Simmons said, moving to a cabinet and retrieving what looked like medical equipment. “Bodies never do—they can’t, really. They tell us exactly what a woman needs, even when her mind is fighting against it.”
Dr. Hamelin nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Which is why we’re going to let your body do all the talking today, Heather. We’re going to see what it tells us about what you really are.”
I started to scramble backward on the table, but there was nowhere to go. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing you don’t need,” Dr. Hamelin said, his voice maddeningly calm. “Nothing your husband hasn’t given us permission to do. Now, I need you to lie back and place your feet in the stirrups.”
The stirrups. I watched in horror as the doctor pulled them out of their recesses in the table and raised them up to either side of me. They waited there, menacingly, to spread me open and expose me completely.
“No,” I said, shaking my head frantically. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”
“Actually, we can,” Nurse Simmons said, approaching with her hands raised in a sort of taming gesture that brought a new surge of heat to my face. “But it would be much easier if you cooperated.”
I tried to bolt then, swinging my legs over the side of the table, but Dr. Hamelin was faster than I’d expected. His hands caught my shoulders, firm and unyielding, and the contact sent an unwanted jolt of electricity through my body.
“Nurse Simmons,” he said, his voice never losing its professional calm, “would you assist me, please?”
I fought them. I thrashed and kicked and screamed, but they were too strong, too practiced. Nurse Simmons grabbed my ankles while Dr. Hamelin’s hands pressed down on my shoulders, pinning me to the table. His grip was firm, authoritative, and to my absolute horror, my body responded instantly.
Heat flooded through me as he held me down, his strength completely overwhelming mine. The more I struggled, the more aroused I became, my pussy growing wet despite my terror. I could feel myself getting slick between my legs, my body betraying me in the most humiliating way possible.
“Stop,” I gasped, but the word came out breathless, almost pleading. The fight was draining out of me as unwanted arousal coursed through my veins. My struggles became weaker, more halfhearted, because every movement seemed to make the arousal worse.
“That’s better,” Dr. Hamelin murmured, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Just as Nurse Simmons said. Your body knows what it needs, doesn’t it?”
I went limp on the table, my chest heaving as the nurse efficiently secured my ankles in the stirrups. I felt tears of shame stream down my cheeks as she fastened webbing restraints around my wrists, and a belt around my waist. I lay there open, spread… available.
“Go ahead and shave her, now,” Dr. Hamelin said, stepping back to observe my restrained form.
“What?” I lifted my head, panic cutting through the haze of arousal. “Shave me? Why?”
Nurse Simmons was already retrieving supplies from a cabinet—shaving gel and a razor, a basin she started to fill with warm water. “Just lie still, Heather. This will be much easier if you don’t move.”
The warm cloth she pressed between my legs made me gasp, and I felt my face burn with humiliation as she began to lather the auburn curls I’d never thought I’d have to remove. “Please,” I whispered. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m sure you can guess why,” Dr. Hamelin said, his voice clinical and detached.
The razor scraped across my sensitive skin, and with each careful stroke, understanding dawned on me like a cold slap.
I had always told myself the New Modesty recommendations about wives keeping themselves bare were for hygiene—practical, medical reasons that didn’t apply to me because I kept myself clean.
But now, spread open and helpless while a stranger removed my most intimate hair, I understood the truth.
It wasn’t about hygiene at all. It was about submission.
About making sure the wife felt exposed, vulnerable, childlike.
Ryan would get to keep his masculine hair, his adult body, while I would be laid bare for his inspection.
When he pulled down my panties for discipline or fucking, there would be nothing to hide behind, nothing to preserve my dignity.
The realization hit me like a freight train, unwelcome need shooting through me, and I started to struggle again. “No,” I said, my voice rising to a panicked shriek. “Stop!”
But Nurse Simmons didn’t stop. Her hands were steady and sure as she continued her work, the razor scraping away my hair with methodical precision.
I felt completely exposed, more vulnerable than I’d ever been in my life, as she worked between my legs and then—to my absolute horror—moved to shave the crack between my buttocks.
“There,” she said finally, wiping away the last of the shaving cream with a warm cloth. “Much better.”
I lay there panting, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and unwanted arousal. The air felt cold against my newly bare skin, and I was acutely aware of how exposed I was, how helpless I must look.
Dr. Hamelin moved closer, his eyes studying my naked body with clinical interest. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Now we can begin the real examination.”
“What examination?” I gasped, trying to close my legs despite the restraints.
“Could I have a speculum, please?” he asked, turning to Nurse Simmons.
I watched in horror as Nurse Simmons handed him a clear plastic device, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d never seen that kind of speculum before, but I recognized it immediately.
“This is just a routine check, Heather,” Dr. Hamelin said, settling onto a stool between my spread legs. “We need to ensure you’re in proper health before we begin your training.”
The cold plastic pressed against the entrance to my vagina, and I gasped at the foreign sensation. “Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I don’t want this.”
“What you want is irrelevant,” he replied matter-of-factly, slowly inserting the device. “Your husband has given us complete authority over your body.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as he opened the speculum, the sensation of being stretched and exposed making me want to die of shame. I could almost feel his medical gaze studying my most intimate parts like I was nothing more than a specimen.
“Excellent vaginal health,” he announced to Nurse Simmons, who made a note on her tablet. “No signs of infection or abnormalities. The cervix appears healthy as well.”
I let out a shaky breath of relief as he removed the speculum, thinking the worst was over. But then he moved to clean the device, and my stomach dropped as I realized what would happen next.
“Now we’re going to have a look in your anus,” he said, applying lubricant to the speculum.
“No,” I gasped, trying to squirm away despite the restraints. “You can’t—not there, please—”
“Hold still,” he commanded, his voice sharp with authority. “This is going to be a little uncomfortable, but it’s important we conduct a thorough exam.”
I felt the cold plastic press against the tiny opening, and I sobbed as he slowly pushed it inside. The sensation was overwhelming, humiliating beyond anything I’d ever experienced. My face burned with shame as he opened the speculum, examining me in ways that made me want to disappear.
“Interesting,” he murmured, and I heard him shift on his stool. “You’ve definitely had anal intercourse before, haven’t you, Heather?”
My blood turned to ice. “I—no, I haven’t—”
“Your body tells a different story,” he said calmly. “The tissue shows clear signs of previous penetration. Does Ryan know about this?”
I wanted to die. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Chad’s face flashed through my mind—the way he’d bent me over his couch, the way he’d taken my ass while his friends watched. The memory made my stomach churn with mortification and treasonous arousal.
“I can see from your expression that he doesn’t,” Dr. Hamelin continued, removing the speculum. “That’s quite a secret to keep from your husband, isn’t it?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I lay there exposed and violated. “It was before we were married,” I whispered.
“Before,” Dr. Hamelin repeated, his voice taking on a tone that made my stomach clench. “But your body remembers, doesn’t it? The way you responded to penetration there tells me some important things about how to bring out the best in you, here at Selecta Solutions.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out his words, but I couldn’t escape the note of evaluation in his voice.
“I’ll definitely be recommending the anal module for your training program,” he continued, making a note on his tablet.
“We need to ensure Ryan has the benefit of a properly trained wife when he chooses to use you there. Your previous experience of sex in your bottom will actually make the training more efficient.”
“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please, you can’t tell him. He doesn’t know, and I don’t want—”
“What you want is irrelevant,” Dr. Hamelin cut me off. “Your husband deserves to know what kind of woman he married. And more important, he deserves to have access to all of your body, properly prepared for his use.”
I heard Nurse Simmons moving around the room, opening cabinets and retrieving something. When she returned to Dr. Hamelin’s side, I saw her hand him a small white device that made my blood run cold.
“Now then,” Dr. Hamelin said, holding up the thing so I could see it clearly. “We’re going to conduct a thorough assessment of your arousal responses. I’m going to stimulate you with this vibrator until you tell me the one thing I’m most interested in hearing from you.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What… what do you want me to say?”
His smile was cold and predatory. “I want you to beg me to fuck you, Heather. I want you to ask for exactly what your body is craving, what it’s been craving all along.”
“Never,” I gasped, trying to pull against the restraints. “I’ll never beg for that. I won’t.”
“Oh, but you will,” Dr. Hamelin said with complete certainty. “Your husband has given me explicit permission to use whatever methods I deem necessary. In fact, Ryan may very well be watching us right now through the monitoring system.”
The thought that Ryan might be seeing this, might be watching me spread open and helpless, sent a jolt of humiliation and arousal through me that I couldn’t suppress. My newly bare pussy felt impossibly exposed, and I could feel myself getting wetter despite my protests.
“He consented to let you be fucked as much as we decide you need to be fucked,” Dr. Hamelin continued, moving the vibrator closer to my exposed flesh. “So you see, Heather, this isn’t about what you want or don’t want. This is about accepting what you are.”
The vibrator touched my clit, and I cried out at the sudden sensation. It was gentle at first, almost teasing, but the effect was immediate and devastating.
“Oh… oh, God…” I whimpered. I struggled in the restraints, but the feeling of helplessness only made my hips buck, my pussy try to push against the delicious buzzing. “Oh, no.”