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spread-wide-open · 11 days ago

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Rebecca (part 1)

She was almost ready for dinner. She just needed to put her earrings in.

Rebecca had always known that she would be married off to a match advantageous to her father. She was fine with it. She enjoyed a certain standard of living and had no wish for that to fall. The perfect tailoring, the luxurious fabrics, the shoes that were only practical if one was escorted from towncar to the best table in the best restaurant… she liked them too much to live without them. And her parents would ensure she never had to live without them.

Oh, her parents would never marry her off to someone she found intolerable, of course not. Or even someone she disliked. They knew that to build anything - and her future partner would expect her to help build their empire - there had to be mutual respect and trust and a tolerance for foibles. If there was friendship, even better. Lust was too much to hope for, never mind love, but that was fine.

So her mother had explained to her, that summer after she had graduated from university. Quite blandly, sat by the pool of the house in Tuscany, with a spritz in her hand. Her parents would host dinners to introduce those they felt were appropriate, those individuals who wished to make an alliance. And she would choose. As her mother had spoken, Rebecca had gone cold. There was no breeze on the searing hot day to account for it; she had thought she had had more time to dally with silly things, but it was not to be.

So she put her earrings in, assessed her lipstick and eyeliner one last time for smudges and asymmetry - they were perfect - and went down to dinner number seven. To meet another future captain of industry in search of a wife.

Fifteen minutes after they had sat down to dinner, Rebecca knew that she would accept this proposal. He was fine to look at, and tall enough that she could wear heels to events she would attend with him without emasculating him. He had pulled her chair out for her when they sat down to dinner, which was a nice touch. And had asked her questions about her degree, about her thoughts on current events and the latest tabloid scandal. How unexpected. The other candidates had only stripped her naked with their eyes and discussed business with her father. This one would suffice.

The other guests were blissfully unaware of the import of the evening to her. A couple of conglomerate chairmen who were more interested in the watch the other wore on his wrist, a sly-looking politician who had been rumoured - but never proven! - to be engaged in shenanigans beneficial to her father, a sleek and observant physician with salt and pepper hair, an award-winning actor who looked a bit jittery but was hilarious. The conversation was very focused on the financial implications of recent political maneuverings, despite the attempts of the actor to steer conversation to the human cost. Rebecca pitied his naivete when she allowed him a thought. He would never last in this crowd.

“Daddy, he is acceptable to me,” Rebecca said.

Her father turned round to face her, espresso cup in hand. He had been staring out at the rolling hills, golden in the morning sun. His study was suffused with the light streaming in through the huge windows. On his laptop there was some sort of meeting, muted.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You should know that he has certain… conditions. One of those is marriage within three months. I trust you are amenable to that?”

Rebecca felt that same cold come over her that she had felt when her mother had explained what was expected of her. “Yes of course.”

“Excellent. This is an excellent match, Rebecca. Well done.”

Rebecca recognised the dismissal for what it was, and left her father to his thoughts and meetings.

The landscape was so utterly different from the Tuscan warmth. Crisp light, jagged peaks and even the greens were sharp. The sky was a high blue above the car, the valley floor further below than she really wanted to think about.

Her future husband - Peter - wanted to ensure his bride was healthy. He wanted her to be examined by his own doctor, one of the conditions her father had alluded to. Rebecca knew what he really wanted to know - that the begetting of heirs would not be unreasonably challenging. She understood the game. So she did not want to arrive at this clinic nauseated, or, even worse, having vomited. So she did not look down into the valley floor.

She concentrated on the back of the driver's head, the beads of condensation on the cool bottle of water beside her, as the car took the twists of the road higher.

The clinic was nestled amongst trees and bare rocks, made of glass and native stone. There was running water alongside, maybe a natural stream corralled into picture perfection. It could have been one of any spas she had ever been to. The driver opened the door for her and the freshest air caressed her face as he assisted her out of her seat to stand on the dark flagstones before the clinic. There was a woman waiting to greet her, wearing blue scrubs, her hair in a tight braid at her back.

“Ms Wharton,” she said, “Delighted that you have come. I am Serena, one of the nurses here, and I will be admitting you to our institution.” There was only professional warmth in her tone and in her smile.

Rebecca almost shivered at that… admitting… institution. Not a spa, then.

From behind Serena, another woman in blue scrubs was bringing a wheelchair up behind Rebecca.

“Oh, no, I can walk!” Rebecca said.

“We don’t permit patients to mobilize around the institution, I’m afraid,” Serena said, “Please sit down.”

Not really having much of a choice, Rebecca did as she was told. Lifting her feet onto the foot rests, she felt a little off-kilter, akimbo. She didn’t really know what to do with her hands - putting them on the armrests felt so… exposing… she clasped them on her lap. Without a word, the nurse controlling the wheelchair started pushing her forward.

Serena turned and led them into the clinic, through glass doors that slid open with a whisper when she swiped a keycard on her belt.

Behind her, Rebecca heard her car drive off.

She was pushed down a short corridor, past a reception desk that had no one stationed at it… maybe that was where the nurses had waited for her to arrive? Everything was blonde wood and hushed.

Serena led them into a room off the corridor, swiping it unlocked with her key card again. It was a simple consultation room: a desk and chairs on either side, a door on the other side from where they entered - also with a keycard lock.

“You may take a seat, Rebecca,” Serena said.

With what grace she could muster, Rebecca stood out of the wheelchair and took the seat at the desk closest to her, as Serena went around to the other side and sat.

The nurse wheeling her took the chair back out of the room, and came back to join Serena opposite Rebecca. She had a computer tablet in her hand.

“Now Rebecca,” Serena said, with another smile of only professional warmth, “I must ask you some detailed questions about your health history, prior to any further investigation and treatments - “

Rebecca’s pulse stuttered. Treatments? For what? She was perfectly healthy -

“Some may seem embarrassing to you, but it is important that you answer all of them completely honestly. Do you understand?”

Rebecca nodded. She knew that she didn’t have a choice. This was the choice she had made.

“You are 23, is that correct?”

Rebecca nodded.

Serena went through her date of birth, the places she had lived. Rebecca nodded to everything. The nameless nurse beside her seemed to be entering the details on the tablet,

“Your parents were kind enough to supply your childhood medical records, and indeed everything they were aware of up until last week,” Serena said, “Have you ever sought medical attention that your parents may be unaware of?”

Rebecca thought… she had only ever gone to her family doctor, there was no need to ever see another. Except that time - “I got some antibiotics for a chest infection when I was in Kyoto? In 2023?”

Serena nodded, “We were aware of that. That is all?”

Rebecca nodded.

“Very good. Do you have any health concerns at the moment?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“Very good. Are you sexually active?”

Rebecca flushed. Serena had said she might find some questions embarrassing.

“By that,’ Serena continues, ‘have you ever given or received a sexual act including any sort of penetration? Oral, vaginal, anal - “

“No,” Rebecca whispered, bright red. She had understood what was expected of her.

“Very good. Have you ever masturbated?”

Rebecca felt herself get even hotter, “No,” she whispered. She had thought about it, of course she had. She had sometimes felt the heat, the throbbing demand. But the mechanics of it…

“Very good girl. I understand those questions were embarrassing for you, well done for answering them.” Serena glanced over at her other nurse, who stood and let herself out the door behind her.

“We are now going to prepare you for your assessment by the medical team. Dr Smith is the physician in control of your care, and you will meet him tomorrow.”

Her colleague came back in with another wheelchair.

“Please,” Serena said, genturing for her to move to the wheelchair.

Rebecca’s legs felt unsteady as she stood, The few steps to the wheelchair felt like miles, and willingly giving up her mobility again felt…dangerous, almost. But this was the choice that she had made. This is what would give her what she wanted.

The corridor she was wheeled into looked almost the same as the first, but without the same lightness streaming through from huge windows of reception - the same blonde wood, but narrow windows high on the walls. Rooms were spaced quite far apart down a long corridor, all with key card locks, but she was wheeled into one just two doors down. A wet room, with a shower. Aesop products. A sprig of eucalyptus on the wall. This looked more like a familiar spa.

“Please undress and wash your travels off,” Serena said, again with that smile, “my colleague will help you.”

“I can - “ Rebecca started to say.

“It is not permitted Rebecca,” she interrupted, holding up a hand, “while you are in this facility you will be continually supervised. Please accept that. It will be a much smoother process for you if you do,”

There wasn’t anything Rebecca could do but nod.

“Good girl. Stand up please.” Not really being able to object any further, Rebecca did as she was told. Serena grasped the handles of the wheelchair and maneuvered it out of the room.

This time, when the door clicked locked, Rebecca couldn’t help but feel like she had been trapped.

And before she could object, the nameless nurse was undressing her; making her step out of the sneakers she was wearing, and the socks so she was standing on the cool tile in her bare feet. They were put into an aluminium basket beside her feet. Rebecca wasn’t sure if she should help… but her fingertips felt like they wouldn’t obey her anyway.

With cool efficiency, she was stripped of her tshirt, her jeans, her lingerie…

Standing there naked, she shivered,

Was this the condition her father had agreed to? Would she have agreed to this… this… if he had told her?

Then there was warm steam as the shower came on, eucalyptus scenting the air. The nurse allowed her to take a few steps into the warm water. There was a loofah beside the products.

“Take as much time as you need.”

Rebecca wasn’t sure what to make of that… it was clear that she wasn’t in control of any of this.

But she took the instruction at face value and took a long time to get clean.

The nurse stood there. Observed. Said nothing. Merely handed her a towel when Rebecca indicated that she was done - the shower shut off with no clear control. Was someone else watching?

Towelled dry, the nurse held up a gown for her to step into - smooth cotton, knee length, buttoned down the front. A hospital gown.

Proper trepidation hit Rebecca. Of course she had agreed to her health being checked. She knew what was expected of her. Knew her place. But this… the control, the observation, the mention of treatments. She hesitated,

The nurse merely continued to hold the gown up for her, short sleeves waiting for her arms. Completely expressionless, like there was no doubt about what was going to happen and who was in control here.

Rebecca knew who was in control here. It was not her. There was no point in fighting it.

She stepped into the gown. It went down to just above her knees and was modest, she supposed. The fabric was soft enough to caress her skin. But she felt more naked than she ever had before, more naked than when she had been being observed in the shower.

Buttoned into the gown, the nurse tied her long hair back in a braid.

With no warning, Serena opened the door with a wheelchair. Without being told, Rebecca sat in it.

“Good girl, Rebecca,” she said, reversing out of the room. The air of the corridor was chill on her still damp skin and hair. “We’re going to let you sleep now,”’

Rebecca wasn’t sure she could sleep at all. Being wheeled down a corridor in a hospital gown, naked and not really able to leave… How was she to sleep?

Serena took her far down the corridor, around corners into identical corridors, Rebecca got completely disoriented.

The room they eventually entered was the same blonde wood, the same high narrow windows as the corridor. A desk in the corner with a computer, two nurses standing by it wearing the same light blue scrubs and … a hospital bed.

Rebecca felt lightheaded, felt everything recede away from her. This was a hospital, she was their patient. This wasn’t just a physical assessment to make sure that she could provide children.

Serena was standing in front of her. Cool. Calm. Not going to be argued with.

“Please get into bed, Rebecca,” she said.

Rebecca barely heard her through the ringing in her ears. Her arms and legs felt heavy and distant.

“You have had a very long day, Rebecca,” Serena said, “I see that you are exhausted. We will help you get into bed.”

Both Serena and the nameless nurse lifted her out of the chair like she was nothing, like this happened every day. With their support, Rebecca haltingly managed to take the few steps to the bed. She could feel how fast she was breathing, felt a tingle in her fingertips and her lips, like that time she had hyperventilated in maths class…

Hands on her, lifting her ankles up and round onto the bed, behind her easing her shoulders down. Rebecca wanted to kick but their hands were so firm, on her legs on her shoulders…

“Rebecca,” Serena said, no longer using that warm tone, but firm and commanding, “we are going to take your vital signs and attach you to a number of monitors while you sleep. It is important that you remain still.”

Hands on her, holding her limbs. The nurses surrounding her wrapping her wrists and ankles in something tight and unyielding, but soft. And when they stepped away from the bed, Rebecca found that she could only move her limbs a few inches, nowhere near enough to kick or fight back. Her wrists were held to the side of the bed; she was barely able to lift them off the bed. Her legs were pulled apart, her ankles affixed to the corners of the bed. Rebecca let out a terrified whine, suddenly much more alert than she had been.

Completely ignoring her, Serena undid the buttons on the front of her hospital gown, completely exposing her

Naked and restrained on the bed, Rebecca tried desperately to sit up, pull away. ”I don’t …”

Serena smiled at her. “I’m afraid that you no longer have a choice, Rebecca. Your father has given consent for this.”

The other nurses were sticking electrodes on her chest, putting a blood pressure cuff on her arm and a clip on her finger. Their movements were quick and practiced, completely unfazed by the hyperventilating girl in front of them. One of the nurses retreated to the desk to look at the monitor.

Rebecca felt the cuff on her arm go tighter and tighter until it was painful and the only thing she could feel.

“Sats are 100, BP 147/89, heart rate 111.”

“That's probably to be expected,” Serena said,”Temperature?”

A thermometer was inserted in Rebecca’s ear. The beep so close to her almost made her jump out of her skin.

“36.7,” said another of the nurses.

“And the ECG?”

"Looks like sinus tachycardia on the monitor," said her colleague watching her heart tracing.

“Fine,” Serena said, assessing Rebecca from head to foot. “The panic is understandable,” she said to her colleagues.

Serena leant over Rebecca and closed the buttons on the gown, leaving the cardiac monitor attached.

Rebecca’s breathing was rapid; she couldn't talk couldn’t think.

“You have been a very good girl so far, Rebecca,” Serena said. “We need you to be very still tonight so we can monitor you adequately. If you remain calm in the future, you will not necessarily be restrained. Do you understand?”

Still breathing too hard to talk, Rebecca nodded.

“Very good. Now do try to sleep. Dr Smith will see you in the morning.”

She did sleep. Sort of. Eventually.

A nurse stayed in the room with her, and it was so hard to not be aware of her.

But her breathing slowed down.

There was no darkness, but it was dim.

The blood pressure cuff kept getting tight. And again.

And she was so tired,

There was no noise.

She did sleep. Sort of. Eventually.

But she woke with a start, with hands on her.

Completely disoriented.

Unable to move.

“Good morning Rebecca,” Serena said, standing above her. “I am glad that you did manage to get some sleep,”

Rebecca looked around the room. Two more nurses. A breakfast tray.

“You are going to eat breakfast and then you will see Dr Smith,” Serena continued, “If you are willing to be calm and compliant, we will undo your restraints. If you are not, one of my colleagues will feed you. Which do you prefer?”

Rebecca swallowed. Her mouth was very dry. She hadn’t eaten or drank since the journey here yesterday afternoon. “I am calm.”

“Wonderful.”

The other nurses stepped up to the bed and undid the restraints holding her limbs. Carefully, slowly, so they wouldn’t be tempted to think she was anything but calm, she flexed her joints, pushed herself up the bed.

Serena pushed her breakfast over to her on a wheeled table that rested across the bed, and pushed a button that raised the head of the bed. She indicated a small paper cup on the breakfast tray. It contained a single blue tablet.

“Please take this now.”

“What is …’’

“That's none of your concern, Rebecca, please take the medication.”

Rebecca bit her lip. And took the paper cup in her hand and knocked the tablets back, dry.

Serena smiled. “Let me see that you have swallowed it please.”

Rebecca opened her mouth wide and did as she was told.

“Excellent. The doctor will see you in an hour.”

Serena left the room, leaving her two colleagues. One watched the monitor, typed something intermittently. One stood by her bed and watched her continuously, watched every bite.

The food, admittedly, looked delicious. Probably was delicious. And nutritious. The pear was probably perfectly ripe and the granola perfectly sweet and crunchy. But it tasted like glue in her mouth. But she finished every bite. Drank every drop of the orange juice.

When she was finished she was disconnected from her monitors and allowed to use the bathroom and brush her teeth in the tiny adjoining ensuite. She was watched the whole time.

But she cared less and less.

Everything was beginning to feel quite far away.

In what she assumed was exactly an hour, Serena walked through the door with a wheelchair. Sat on the bed, naked under her hospital gown, Rebecca struggled to feel the fear that she should be feeling. That she knew that she wanted to feel. But.

She supposed that she had been drugged.

“I see lorazepam has taken the edge off, Rebecca,” Serena said, smiling. “Good. On here please.”

A nurse took each of her arms and steered her into the wheelchair. And then she was being pushed again down the long blank corridors.

Not so far this time, she thought. Couldn’t tell.

They wheeled her into a large, bright room, tiled in gleaming white. Huge lights on the ceiling, surgical lights. Trolleys and monitors around the walls. In the middle of the room, the focus of it all, a surgical trolley, chrome and plush black leather.

Before Rebecca could see anything else, her vision was filled with an older man crouching in front of her. He was greying, with cool blue eyes. His scrubs weren’t quite the same blue.

She knew this man. He had been a guest at the dinner where she had met Peter. She remembered catching him watching her that night but… of course he would be looking at her? She was young and beautiful. She hadn’t thought anything of it.

“Rebecca. It is very nice to see you again. I am in charge of your care here at our facility,” he looked up at Serena behind her, “She has been given lorazepam?”

“Five hundred micrograms orally,” Serena said.

“Yes,” said Dr Smith, standing from his crouch, and looking at the nurse “my feeling on initial assessment was that she would prove to be quite docile, but for now that seems wise. If we could get her onto the table please.”

More hands grasped her, and made her walk towards the trolley.

Closer now, Rebecca could see that it was made of several independent parts, for her arms, her legs, her body, her head. Two nurses helped her onto the bed, then adjusted it so she was lying semi-recumbent, her knees slightly bent. Comfortable. But difficult to extricate herself from. Dr Smith watched them, hands clasped behind his back.

Rebecca couldn’t keep her eyes from Dr Smith, couldn’t get away from the shock of seeing him again, here.

“Were you at dinner for a reason?’ She couldn’t help but ask. She felt her words so slow, so difficult.

“Yes it was part of your preliminary assessment,” he replied, not smiling. “Nurse Serena has already taken your medical history. This morning you will have part of your physical assessment.” His voice was cultured, erudite. She sounded like he had been to one of the better public schools in England. She hadn’t really paid any attention at dinner…

A blood pressure cuff was being wrapped around her arm, another clip on her finger. Without asking for permission, a nurse unbuttoned her gown to attach wires to the electrodes still on her chest. Instead of fastening them up again, she just pulled the gown closed.

She had never felt more exposed. So utterly defenseless.

And the panic started to come back.

She could feel her heart rate picking up.

Feel the tingling in her fingertips again as she breathed harder and harder.

She didn’t notice Dr Smith come up beside her. “Yes the lorazepam probably was wise Serena,” he said.

“Rebecca,” he said, looking down at her. “You understand why you are here. Your fiancé wants to ensure that you are a suitable wife. The contract he and your father have agreed necessitates this. You are not able to decline any assessments or treatments that I decide that you require. Is that clear?”

Rebecca, mouth dry, did what she could to nod her head as calmly as she could. Tried so hard to slow her breathing, get herself under control.

“Good girl.”

Without any warning, Dr Smith was leaning over her, opening her gown all the way down to her bellybutton. Rebecca felt her heart pounding in her chest, her throat, her ears, her vision almost going dark around the edges. She forced herself to breathe slower. This would get her what she wanted.

His hands were smooth on her neck, his fingertips probing deeply around her windpipe, her ears, under her jaw.

“Swallow for me please, Rebecca,” he said, his gaze somewhere in the distance.

Her throat was dry, but she did her best.

“Good. There’s no cervical lymphadenopathy, no goitre.”

His hands palpated lower onto her chest, around her collarbones. And then one of his hands was directly under her left breast, pushed deep into her skin and muscle for… it seemed like forever.

“Apex beat is normal.”

She could feel the tip of his thumb over her breastbone, the fingers wrapping around her ribs. She felt her nipples just begin to pull and tighten. She had no control over it. She closed her eyes. This was mortifying. This… this wasn’t good. This wasn’t what a nice girl responded to. There was no indication on his face that Dr Smith noticed.

Then again, laid a hand down the side of her breastbone.

“Yes. No heaves or thrills.”

Then his hand was on her left breast, pushing in tight little circles around her nipple, up into her axilla. Then on her right, the same tiny precise movements, the same deep pushing,

“If you could, nurse?”

There were suddenly hands on her wrists and elbows. Rebecca’s eyes shot open as her arms were lifted above her head and held there. Dr Smith repeated palpating each breast, and Rebecca found her nipples getting harder and harder.

“Breasts are firm, slightly nodular in keeping with the patient's age. No masses palpable. No axillary lymphadenopathy. Please note that the patient’s nipples did become erect with really quite minimal stimulation. Ensure that is very clear in the report for Mr Taylor.” Her fiance. Her fiance was getting this reported back to him. With the terror, there was a rush of hot humiliation. “We will proceed with a breast ultrasound later, for security. May I have a stethoscope please?”

The cold press of the stethoscope was at least weirdly familiar, Rebecca, was almost reassured by it. Almost found the normality hilarious. In this tiny, horrific clinic in Switzerland where they were treating her like a possession - because she was just a possession, a voice in her head whispered - they still listened to the chest with a stethoscope.

Dr Smith pressed the stethoscope over her chest, over the skin where Rebecca could feel her heart pounding.

“Heart sounds are normal. If we could sit her forward please?”

The hands holding her arms moved her so she was sitting forward, away from the bed, her arms crossed over her front. Dr Smith leaned behind her, so close that Rebecca could smell his cologne. The stethoscope was chill on her back.

“Breath deeply through your mouth Rebecca, please,” he instructed.

After ten? More? Deep breaths, he was satisfied and allowed her to lie back.

“Breath sounds are normal.”

Instead of the same semi-recumbent position, `Rebecca found her lying completely flat, the surgical light shining directly on her face.

Dr Smith undid the rest of her gown, pushing it to her sides so she was completely bare. She had never felt more vulnerable.

His firm hands were pushing into her abdomen, deep enough that it was almost painful. Under her ribs and around her belly button, and lower, deep under her pelvic bone. It was so uncomfortable… There was immediate relief when he moved his hand away.

“No organomegaly, but a slightly palpable bladder. We will catheterise her shortly - it will permit a clean urine sample,”

Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin at this. She tried to sit up, but the hands of a nurse above her pushed her shoulders back down into the plush leather.. A catheter?!

“Rebecca,” Dr Smith said, firmly, “You will co-operate. Lithotomy position please.”

There was a rattle of wheels over the tiled floor as a silver cart was pushed over. Rebecca tried desperately to lift her head off the table to watch as a nurse on each side of her grasped her knees and ankles and pulled her legs open with her knees bent.

To her horror, the bed, too, was adjusting. Her legs were lifted into the separating parts of the bed, exposing her completely. She let out a tiny whine.

“I think we need restraints for the moment, please, Nurse,” Dr Smith said.

Almost as soon as he made the request, there were unyielding straps around her ankles and her knees, holding her legs firmly in place. Another strap over her forehead, so she couldn’t lift her head off the bed, couldn’t see what was going on at all. Restraints holding her wrists to the side of the bed. Rebecca felt a tear slip out her face and run down onto the bed.

There was another rattle of wheels on the tiles.

From between her legs, splayed wide, she heard Dr Smith say, ‘Again in the report could we note that the patient is cleanly waxed, or has perhaps had laser treatment to remove her hair… yes laser treatment I think.. “

There was a snap of latex gloves. Rebecca startled as his cool hands touched her, pressing over her vulva, over her labia and her clitoris. She clenched her jaw. This was what she wanted. This was exactly what she had expected to happen. This was what she was here for - to prove that she could have children.

“No visible or palpable masses. Speculum please.”

She was to bear children. This was to be expected,

She felt the cold push of the speculum into her, the slip of the lubricating jelly. Against her full bladder it was..unpleasant. Infinitely worse than Dr Smith’s hand had been on her pubic bone. She felt herself be opened wide. So wide. She wanted… more.

“Cervix is nulliparous, there is an IUD string in situ, we will remove that at a later date if requested. No abnormalities. Brush please.”

Rebecca felt the rasp of a smear being taken. And then the release of pressure as the speculum was removed.

Only to be replaced with Dr Smith's fingers, and his hand pushing down on her pelvis. Probing and seeking… his thumb rested just over her clitoris and with every tiny movement of his hand, she couldn’t help it, she felt something deep in her clench.

“Ovaries are normal to palpation. Uterus is anteverted, good. Clitoris does seem sensitive to manual stimulation, please ensure we note that in our report.”

She couldn’t help it, she wanted his fingers to stay where they were. Do what they had been doing. She knew it was awful. She knew she was awful. But he removed his hands from her and there was another snap of latex gloves being removed, and being replaced.

Pressure and more cold lubricating jelly, lower. An inexorable push against her anus, burning discomfort as the doctor pushed a finger deep inside her, deeper like he would never stop. She cried out. She couldn’t help it.

“Yes Rebecca, nearly done, you’re doing very well,” Dr Smith said from between her legs, his finger sweeping around inside her. She felt tears run down her face. The burn stayed long after he removed his fingers.

“That will need some thought,” Dr Smith said. He was changing his gloves again.

Rebecca tried to take a couple of deep breaths, but before she could feel a moment of relief, his hand was parting her labia and cold - freezing cold - was being pushed deep inside her. She gasped at the shock.

“Just some anaesthetic lubricating jelly for the catheter, Rebecca,” Dr Smith said.

The cold was followed almost immediately by a deep burn, a push deeper than she had felt. Rebecca felt an overwhelming urge to pee, a complete inability to keep her legs still. She trembled under the restraints. Then there was an overwhelming blissful relief as her bladder emptied. She felt the catheter be pulled out barely a minute after its insertion.

“Good girl, Rebecca,” Dr Smith said, “You’ve done very well.”

With a quiet mechanical whirr, her legs were coming together again. She felt a flash of sweat all over her body, a burn between her legs. Shame. And something else. Something she wouldn’t name, or even admit to.

“You did very well Rebecca,” Dr Smith said again, coming to stand over her so she could see him. ”We found out some very interesting things about you, about what your body responds to, and certainly some things I would like to investigate further. For now we are going to let you rest. We are going to give you some intravenous fluid to rehydrate you and paracetamol for any discomfort you may be experiencing. This afternoon you will have some scans. And then I will be in a position to discuss my preliminary findings with your fiancé .’

As he spoke, there was a sharp bit of a needle in the crook of her arm, as a nurse inserted an intravenous cannula. A bag of fluid was already hanging on a stand beside her. Another nurse was buttoning her gown up again, removing the restraining straps from her wrists, her ankles, her forehead.

“I trust that is acceptable?” He smiled at her, the picture of a gentlemanly physician.

They didn’t move her, but they covered her with a warmed blanket. Rebecca drifted off, not quite to sleep, but to somewhere far away from this place.

Time passed, and didn’t.

They came for her, wheeled her into a room with a CT scanner. She didn’t protest, didn’t say a word, didn’t resist even a little, as they lifted her onto the scanner bed. Didn’t resist as they wheeled her back. Didn’t resist as her heart was scanned, the thump and whoosh of her heart like thunder in the room. Didn’t resist as an ultrasound probe was pushed deep into her abdomen. Didn’t resist. Because surely this was almost over and she had passed the test.

She lay still for a while after the abdominal ultrasound, waiting. Waiting. Contemplating the ceiling. Waiting.

Dr Smith returned, smiling, Serena and another nurse accompanying him.

“You are doing wonderfully, Rebecca,” he said from beside her, above her. “Just one further investigation and then we will permit you to rest.”

Her legs started moving apart again, her knees bending up. Rebecca spasmed, but Serena was there, holding her shoulders down on the leather. She managed to lift her head up to look down her body.

“Just a transvaginal ultrasound, Rebecca,” Dr Smith said, moving between her legs. A nurse was wheeling a scanner over.

“You’re not going to require the restraints, I trust?”

Rebecca glanced up at Serena. Her hands were tight on her, the push into the bed not something she could fight against. Rebecca shook her head. Serena was smiling down at her.

“Good.” There was the snap of him putting gloves on.

Then his hands were on her again, opening her wide.

“As I suspected they would be, Nurse, vaginal secretions are significant.”

Rebecca twitched again, the shame of it being noticed. She had been trying so hard to not notice what her own body was doing.

There was a pushing at her vagina, a hard and wide something pushing pushing deep into her… she felt that horrible satisfying clench of her muscles again.

Dr Smith was silent as he maneuvered the probe around inside her, pushing on her front walls, her back, and deep. She had no idea how long it went on for. Forever.

Then when he removed it she felt empty.

Serena’s hands stopped holding her shoulders and Dr Smith stood over her.

“You can rest now. I am almost certain I will see you in the morning, after I have discussed my findings with your fiancé ”

#soo hot #story #medfet #gloves #dubcon

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