Chapter 18 Lana
LANA
Aiden doesn’t let up, the cold metal pressing even more insistently into me, inch by inch.
"Tell me your story, Lana." His voice is gentle but implacable. "One memory. That's all I need."
The speculum opens inside me with a soft clicking sound, and I arch against the restraints involuntarily. The sensation is invasive, exposing me in ways that make my skin crawl with shame and vulnerability.
"I don't—" I start, but he clicks it open another notch, and the words die in my throat.
“Talk to me, Lana.” The speculum opens wider, the stretch becoming painful.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
When the speculum opens wider—one click, then two—I gasp.
I can't fight the memory anymore. It crashes through the walls I've built, flooding my mind with images so vivid they steal my breath.
"I was at a club," I whisper, the words barely audible. "A kink club. I went there to... to explore."
Aiden stills, the speculum no longer advancing. "Keep going."
My throat tightens, shame and fear mingling as the recollection takes shape.
"I'd been going for a few weeks. I liked.
.. I liked the submission. Being told what to do.
" The admission burns on my tongue, but once I start, the words won't stop.
"There was a flyer. For a special event. A slave auction."
The memory pierces me more painfully than the metal inside me. My cheeks burn hot with humiliation.
"I thought it was just roleplay," I continue, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. "I signed up. I thought... I thought it would be safe."
The speculum eases closed slightly, the pressure lessening. Aiden's voice is quiet when he speaks. "What happened next, Lana?"
It’s too embarrassing to tell him. I close my eyes, shaking my head. I expect him to
I expect him to force the speculum wider, to punish my silence. But instead, he continues to ease the pressure.
"It's okay," he says, and his voice carries something I can't identify. "You're being so brave, Lana. Keep going."
The gentleness in his tone undoes something inside me. The tears I've been holding back spill over, hot tracks down my cheeks.
"They drugged me," I whisper. "At the auction. I remember being on stage, and then... nothing. When I woke up, I was in a van." My voice breaks. "I thought it was part of the scene at first. I kept waiting for someone to use the safeword, to tell me it was over."
The speculum clicks closed another notch, the relief immediate. But Aiden doesn't remove it entirely.
"How long were you at the facility?" he asks.
I try to think, but time became meaningless there. Days blended into weeks, weeks into months. "I don't know. Long enough to forget who I was before."
The words hang in the sterile air between us. I can feel Aiden's gaze on me, though I can't see his face from this position. The speculum remains inside me, a constant reminder of my vulnerability, but the pressure has eased enough that I can breathe.
"You remember now, though," he says quietly. "You remember Lana."
I nod against the vinyl, fresh tears sliding down my temples into my hair. "I remember some things. Coffee shops. My apartment. A cat named Mochi." The memories feel fragile, like they might shatter if I examine them too closely.
"What else?" His voice is patient, encouraging in a way that makes my chest ache.
"I was a teacher," I whisper, the words feeling strange on my tongue. "Third grade. I had a classroom with yellow walls and a reading corner with bean bags." The image blooms in my mind—twenty-two small faces looking up at me, trust and curiosity shining in their eyes.
What happened to those children when I disappeared? Did they wonder where Miss Lana went? The thought makes my chest tighten with grief I've kept buried for months.
"Good girl," Aiden says softly, and I feel the speculum ease closed another increment. "You're doing so well, Lana. Tell me more."
I swallow hard, my throat raw from crying. "I lived alone. No family nearby. That's probably why..." I trail off, the implication hanging heavy between us. No one to miss me quickly enough to matter.
"Why what, Lana?"
"Why no one came looking for me." The words taste bitter. "I was just... disposable."
The speculum slides out, and I feel Aiden's hands on my thighs again, steadying rather than restraining. "You're not disposable, Lana. You're here. You're alive. You remembered."
His words sink into my skin, a promise I don't know if I can believe. My body feels hollow after the speculum's removal, empty and vulnerable. I stare up at those ceiling tiles—twenty-seven of them—trying to find my center again.
"I want to release you from these restraints," Aiden says, his fingers hovering over the leather cuff on my wrist. "But I need to know you won't try to run or fight me. Can you promise that, Lana?"
I nod, then remember that's not enough. "Yes, Sir."
"Aiden," he corrects gently. "You can call me Aiden. I have more questions for you, but we’ll save them for another time."
"Yes... Aiden." His name feels strange on my tongue, intimate in a way that makes my chest tighten.
He unbuckles the restraints one by one, his movements efficient but careful. When I'm free, he helps me sit up, his hand warm against my back as I swing my legs over the side of the table.
The room spins slightly, and I grip the edge of the exam table to steady myself. My thighs tremble, whether from being held open for so long or from the emotional toll of remembering, I can't tell.
I sit on the edge of the table in my borrowed clothes, trying to process what just happened. I told him things I've kept buried for months. My name. My life before. The club.
The shame burns hot in my chest. I was so naive, so trusting. I walked right into their trap because I wanted to explore something dark inside myself.
"How do you feel?" Aiden asks, and I realize he's been watching me struggle with these revelations.
"Stupid," I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
His brow furrows. "Why stupid?"
"Because I did this to myself." The admission tears at my throat. "I signed up for that auction. I put myself in danger because I was curious about... about submission." My face burns with humiliation. "They didn't have to force me. I walked right into it."
Aiden is quiet for a long moment, studying my face. "Lana, wanting to explore your sexuality doesn't make you stupid. It makes you human."
I shake my head. "I should have known better. Who wants to pretend to be a slave?” I cover my face with my hands. “All of it is my fault.”