Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I felt her fingertip press firmly against that intimate area, and then a curious prickling sensation, like tiny electrical pulses. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was intensely strange—the feeling of something foreign making itself at home in a place I barely acknowledged myself.
“There,” she said with clinical satisfaction. “Installation complete.”
CHAPTER 3
Audrey
I heard a series of soft beeps, and realized Nurse Georges must be monitoring something on her tablet. The prickling sensation intensified briefly, then subsided into a gentle warmth that radiated outward in a way that made me shift uncomfortably on the table.
“Now we’ll calibrate the sensor,” Nurse Georges continued, setting her tablet on a small stand where she could glance at it. “It needs to establish baseline responses.”
I had no idea what that meant until her gloved hands suddenly moved to my breasts. I gasped in shock, my eyes flying open.
“What are you—”
“Lie still, please,” she interrupted firmly. “This is necessary for proper calibration.”
Her hands cupped my small breasts, her touch impersonal yet somehow deeply invasive. I felt my face flood with heat, the blush spreading down my neck and chest. To my absolute horror, I felt my nipples hardening against her palms, betraying a physical response that had nothing to do with my conscious feelings.
“Good,” she murmured, glancing at the tablet. “The sensor is picking up your sexual responses perfectly.”
I wanted to disappear through the floor. This wasn’t a medical exam—it was some kind of perverted evaluation. And yet I couldn’t bring myself to protest, to demand that she stop, to get up and leave. Thirty days echoed in my head like a death knell. No visa. No money. No future.
Nurse Georges began to circle my nipples with her thumbs, watching the tablet screen intently. I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped my lips as her thumbs continued their little circles. My body was responding in ways I couldn’t control, and the knowledge that some device had measured those responses made it all the more humiliating.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can you… can you stop?”
“I told you. The sensor needs to establish baseline arousal patterns,” Nurse Georges explained dispassionately. “Your responses are quite strong. That’s good—it means you’re naturally susceptible to dominant sexual stimulation.”
She removed her hands from my breasts and checked her tablet again. “The perineal sensor is functioning perfectly. We’ll proceed with the examination to verify your eligibility for the First Intimacy Premium.”
I tried to keep my gaze fixed upward as I heard her moving about, opening drawers and preparing instruments. The paper beneath me crinkled loudly with each involuntary shiver that passed through my body.
“I’m going to examine your genitals now,” she announced, as dispassionately as if she were about to check my throat for strep. “You’ll feel my touch. Try to relax.”
Relax? I almost laughed hysterically at the suggestion. How could anyone relax in this position? But I took a deep breath and tried to loosen my tense muscles as her gloved fingers gently parted my labia.
“Good,” she murmured, more to herself, or maybe to a recorder app on her tablet, than to me. “External genitalia appear normal and healthy.”
I felt her fingers exploring, touching parts of me I’d barely acknowledged myself. The casual nature of her touch somehow made it more bearable—and yet, to my mortification, I could feel a warm, liquid sensation gathering between my legs. The horrible sensor must be detecting that too, I realized with fresh embarrassment.
“Now I’m going to use a speculum to examine your vaginal canal and cervix,” she said. “You’ll feel some pressure.”
I heard the clink of metal and then felt something cold and hard pressing against the opening to my virgin sheath. I gasped as the speculum entered me, the sensation strange and invasive, but not quite painful.
“Breathe,” Nurse Georges instructed, sounding almost bored. “If you focus on your breath, it will help you relax.”
I tried to think only about my breathing as I felt the speculum open inside me, stretching me in a way I’d never experienced before. A bright light suddenly appeared between my spread thighs, and I realized she was using some kind of examination light to peer inside me.
“Mmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “As expected, your hymen is intact. Clear evidence of no prior penetration.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, as if that could somehow shield me from this invasion of privacy.
“I need to document this for your file,” she said. “Hold very still.”
I heard a soft click, and my eyes flew open in alarm. “Did you just—”
“Take a picture? Yes,” she confirmed without a hint of apology. “We’re talking about a good deal of money here, after all. Verification is essential. It’s also important that you have a thorough understanding of what will happen when your first sponsor thrusts his penis into your vagina.”
To my horror, she held up her tablet in front of my face.