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)
I started to turn around, willing myself not to put my hands behind me in an attempt to cover the open back of the gown but desperate not to have the nurse’s judgmental eyes on my whipped bottom. I turned very slowly, because I didn’t want to have to face front, either, so that she could see my scarlet face—and really I just wanted to pretend she hadn’t made the humiliating demand.
“Grace,” Shelly said sharply. “Cathy here is a nurse. She and Doctor Simmons have a duty to take care of you. You have a responsibility to yourself—and to those who care about you. Don’t make their job more difficult because you have some idea of modesty. Modesty is important when you’re courting, and then in public after you’re married, but it’s not appropriate here in the doctor’s office.”
I could hear the tummy-churning threat in Shelly’s voice: the arm of Jake’s easy chair, the baring of my bottom, the family strap across my upturned cheeks, barely healed from my last whipping. I finished turning around, my eyes on Nurse Cathy’s white leather shoes.
“I don’t,” I told her, letting a sulky note infuse my tone. I guessed I should have felt defiant—good, even—about being able to deny that I had done the thing I couldn’t help thinking of as naughty and shameful. But I could tell somehow that from the perspective of the nurse and my foster mother—the viewpoint, it seemed like, of this strange town where the government had sent me—no answer I could give would prove satisfactory.
“Hmm,” was all Nurse Cathy said as she tapped her tablet. Then she said, “And you said she climaxed several times after she was punished, Mrs. Carpenter?”
“That’s right,” Shelly said, nodding. “Mr. Carpenter… well, he’s, you know, very good at that.”
I glanced over at her, where she sat in the chair with her handbag in her lap. To my surprise, her cheeks had turned red, the way they had in the department store when she had confided to me the way that Jake punished her for playing with herself without permission.
I thought about what she had just told me, about modesty, and I wondered for the first time what it all really meant. The memory of Jake fucking her so very hard from behind as she bent over her chair with her panties down and her bottom up rose vividly into my mind. I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t let out a little whimper as I felt myself clench, down there. My face blazed up with heat like an inferno. Shelly somehow still had her modesty, even though her husband fucked her like that, in front of the young woman he had just whipped.
“Is that right, Grace?” the nurse asked. “Did you have more than one orgasm?”
I had my hands out in front of me, clenched into fists as if I meant to fight Nurse Cathy, or the doctor, or maybe the whole town. I flicked my eyes over from the nurse’s shoes to look at Shelly in the chair, sure that she would prompt me again, with another threat of Jake’s strap across my backside. My foster mother just sat there, though, looking at me. She had a little furrow between her eyebrows, and I understood that she must actually be feeling concern for me. Shelly wanted me to tell the truth, and, more important, to admit not just to her and Nurse Cathy but to myself that I had needed the degrading ‘training’ she and Jake had given me last night.
My forehead working and my heart pounding, I returned my attention to the nurse’s white shoes.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Nurse Cathy tapped on her tablet.
“Alright,” she said after four or five more taps. “Go ahead and get on the scale for me.”
She noted my weight, took my temperature, had me sit on the exam chair with its crinkly paper cover so that she could read my blood pressure.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready,” she told me, and left the room.
Shelly and I sat in uncomfortable silence for about five minutes. A couple of times I thought she might be about to say something—with my eyes on my hands, curled atop the blue fabric of the shapeless gown, I could see her shift in her chair out of the corner of my eye. Once she cleared her throat and I felt sure she might even be getting ready to apologize, but nothing else emerged. On my side, I had a zillion questions, but I didn’t know how to put them into words. Plus, they were all mortifying, and I had no intention of asking Shelly any of them and giving her the satisfaction of having satisfied my curiosity.
A knock came at the door, and the door opened, almost simultaneously with the knock. The doctor came in, a middle-aged man with silver at the temples of his dark brown hair. Nurse Cathy came in after him, pushing a wheeled tray with stuff on top that looked very medical and thus naturally scary. I recognized a clear plastic speculum, which the nurse unwrapped as the doctor pulled on blue latex gloves.