Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
That went together with the vague but alarming idea that I had become a Grasskiln girl—apparently the kind of girl who got whipped and then fondled by an older man.
While his wife looked on approvingly, rubbing herself through her skirt. While she sucked his huge, hard cock in eager expectation of him fucking her.
Pounding her shaved pussy with his masculine hardness as the girl watched and tried desperately not to play with herself.
The nurse’s words seemed despite their apparent innocence to put it over the top.
“She can’t,” I said. “I’m… I’m nineteen. I don’t want her there.”
The nurse, a tall dark-haired woman about ten years older than me, looked me up and down, pursing her lips.
“You’ll probably want to ask about this at the meeting later, Grace,” she said in an abrupt, clipped tone. “I don’t have all the details. But the program you’re in turns you back into a minor for the purposes of healthcare. Your foster mama has to be present for your exam, because it concerns your sexual health and your courtship.”
“But—” I protested.
“You can ask at the meeting, honey,” Shelly said. “Nurse Cathy here told you she doesn’t know the details.”
I looked at Frannie, who still had her eyes on the floor, and then at Shelly’s cousin Martha, who had her attention on me, one eyebrow raised as if in curiosity to see whether Shelly’s new ward would show herself to be controllable or not. Then I turned to Shelly, my eyes beaming a plea for some respect for my modesty and my privacy.
She shook her head, though.
“You don’t want me to tell Mr. Carpenter you made a fuss, do you, Grace?” she asked. “I’m guessing your backside is already sore enough for you.”
I heard a little choking sort of noise from Frannie’s direction. I glanced over at her again, to see that she had raised her eyes to mine, her cheeks bright red. It was my turn to look away, catching my lower lip between my teeth. My face burning, I stepped through the door the nurse held open, with Shelly right behind me.
“Go ahead and take everything off,” Nurse Cathy told me in the exam room. “Put your clothes on the hooks and put on the gown that’s hanging there.” She turned to Shelly. “You can sit down in the chair over there, Mrs. Carpenter. Is Grace in her training panties yet?”
I froze, standing in front of the hooks the nurse had pointed to, just looking at the blue hospital gown. I’d only had one gynecological exam before and the memory of how strange and oddly revealing the gown had felt came back to my mind, jumbled with my mortifying memories from the night before. The new impression, of Nurse Cathy asking my foster mother about my underwear, seemed to root me to the spot, unable to start undressing.
“She is,” Shelly confirmed. “Only for a few minutes, though—we just came from the store.”
“I see,” the nurse replied, tapping something on her tablet. “Well, Grace, we’re quite busy today, so hurry up, please and get undressed. While you do, go ahead and tell me about your sexual history, please. Were you intimate with anyone before you were enrolled into the New Modesty?”
I scrunched up my face very hard for a moment, feeling a little bit of water well up in each eye, which I then blinked away furiously. Then I started to take off my dress.
“I dated,” I told her, determining to give as little information as I possibly could.
“Boys?” the nurse asked.
I nodded. I had the dress off. I hung it on one of the hooks. At least talking to the nurse while I took off my clothes distracted me a bit.
“How many?” Nurse Cathy inquired. I thought I could hear a bit of disapproval in her tone, as if she felt certain I would say ten or twelve or twenty.
“Two,” I told her. I sat down to take off my shoes and socks, focusing my attention entirely on my feet.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, tapping the tablet. “And how intimate were you with them?”
I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?” I demanded, looking up at the woman, who had an unapologetic, unsympathetic look on her face.
“Grace!” Shelly put in. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, or Mr. Carpenter’s going to hear about it.”
“Mrs. Carpenter,” said the nurse, “you said Mr. Carpenter disciplined her last night?”
“That’s right,” Shelly told her. “Then he brought her to orgasm several times.”
More taps on the tablet. I bit my lip hard, but a little whimper came out through my nose nonetheless. My face felt like the surface of the sun. The feeling of unreality I had had about the previous night seemed impossible to remember now.
“And your husband uses a paddle?” Nurse Cathy asked.
“A strap,” Shelly supplied. “It’s been in his family a long time.”