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)
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.