Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“I understand this is overwhelming,” Nurse Simmons said, her voice gentler now. “But I promise you, fighting it will only make it harder on yourself. We’re here to help you, Heather. To help you become the woman your husband needs you to be.”
“What if I don’t want to be that woman?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
“Then we’ll help you understand why you do,” she replied, and there was something in her tone that made my blood run cold. “Come along now. Dr. Hamelin is waiting.”
I followed Nurse Simmons down the hallway with hesitant steps, my bare feet silent against the cold linoleum. I was no longer restrained, and Officer Martinez had left, but even if I hadn’t been naked and defenseless I would have understood that escape wasn’t an option.
The room Nurse Simmons led me to looked like something from a normal doctor’s office, complete with an examination table covered in white paper and the familiar smell of antiseptic. But there were differences that made my pulse quicken—what looked like restraints built into the table, cabinets that looked like they contained more than just medical supplies, and cameras mounted in every corner.
“Please have a seat on the examination table,” Nurse Simmons said, patting the white paper covering. “Dr. Hamelin will be with you shortly.”
I hesitated, my arms crossed over my breasts in a futile attempt at modesty. The paper crinkled as I climbed onto the table, and I tried to position myself to hide as much as possible, but there was no dignity to be found in my nakedness.
Nurse Simmons busied herself with something at a computer terminal, her fingers clicking across the keyboard with practiced efficiency. “I’m just reviewing your husband’s preferences now,” she said conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather rather than my impending humiliation.
“What did he say?” I asked, hating how desperate I sounded. “What did Ryan agree to?”
She glanced up from the screen, her expression unreadable. “Your husband agreed to everything, Heather.” She turned back to the computer.
Everything. I swallowed so hard I could hear the gulp.
Before I could work up the courage to ask what that meant, the door opened and a man in a white coat entered. He was younger than I’d expected, maybe mid-thirties, with sharp features and calculating dark eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His blond hair was perfectly styled, and everything about him radiated the kind of clinical authority that made my stomach clench.
“Good afternoon, Heather,” he said, his voice smooth and professional. “I’m Dr. Hamelin. I’ll be overseeing your intake examination and some of your training program.”
Training program. There was that phrase again. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself smaller. “I don’t want to be trained. I want to go home.”
Dr. Hamelin exchanged a look with Nurse Simmons. “I’m sure you do,” he said, moving to wash his hands at a small sink. “But what you want and what you need are often very different things, aren’t they?”
He turned back to me, drying his hands with methodical precision. “I’ve reviewed your case file, Heather. Your history, your marriage, the incident that brought you here. I’ve also reviewed the monitoring data from your home.” His eyes met mine directly. “I know exactly what kind of woman you are, even if you’re not ready to admit it to yourself.”
My face burned with shame. The shower recordings. The fantasies I’d thought were private. “Those were just… I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean to reveal your true nature?” Dr. Hamelin moved closer, and I could smell his cologne, something expensive and masculine that made my traitorous body respond despite my fear. “You didn’t mean to show us how desperately you need to be controlled and enjoyed?”
“No,” I whispered.
Dr. Hamelin smiled, a cold expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “But you needn’t bother saying anything at all, Heather. I know you’ll only lie.”
His casual dismissal hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to protest, to defend myself, but he held up a hand to stop me.
“Every word that comes out of your mouth will be calculated to protect the image you’ve created of yourself,” he continued, pulling on latex gloves with practiced efficiency. “The good wife. The reformed woman. The respectable young lady who certainly doesn’t fantasize about being used like a whore.”
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?