Chapter 1

Penelope

My heavy lids weigh down my eyes, making it almost impossible to open them. With each attempt, the fluttering of my lashes as I struggle to wake up blurs and fuzzes my vision with black lines, obscuring everything. It’s not that the room is dark, though. No.

The room is bathed in a bright, fluorescent light that sets my head to pounding with any minuscule opening I can manage. Even the faint buzz sounds loud and obnoxious to my ears. It’s like the world’s worst hangover. How much did I have to drink?

My memories from the last few nights are fuzzy, and I know I indulged a little, but I don’t normally get blackout drunk. Groaning, I keep my head planted against the soft surface as I keep working with my eyes. Where the hell am I? I pull up my arm to rub my temples, hoping to ease some of the discomfort, but I can’t move. Why can’t I move? Again, I force my eyes to open, but when they do, I’m not given any additional clues about what’s going on.

From what little I can see, it looks like I’m in a hospital. Am I paralyzed? Keeping myself as still as possible, I start from my toes and work my way up, wiggling every little bit I can. Everything seems to be working, but why can’t I move? I go to move my head, but that won’t budge either.

My breaths come in harsh, panicked gasps as I try again. I still can’t move. The pressure in my head grows every time I try, then lessens when I keep it still. Moving just my eyes, I look down as best as I can and see white padded shackles holding me in place.

The relief that floods my system nearly makes me faint. I’m not paralyzed, just restrained. As soon as that thought flashes through, my anxiety ramps back up. Why? Have I been kidnapped? For some reason, that feels even more terrifying than the idea of being paralyzed. Wiggling my fingers again, I twist my wrist in a feeble attempt to free myself, but everything holds firm.

Fully awake and aware, my eyes dart about the space, hoping to get some more clues as to where I am and who could have taken me, but the room is bare. Any place I look at is just plain white walls and metal instruments.

For a brief second, the idea of an alien abduction flits through my mind, but I dismiss it quicker than anything else. Footsteps echo somewhere to my left, and I freeze, willing my hysteria down. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, pulling up an old anxiety trick. I breathe in for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and hold again.

Though it does nothing to stop my racing heart, hopefully it will be enough to convince whoever is coming over that I’m still asleep. The steps come closer, and with each click, my heart thumps a little bit faster. Try as I might, I can’t seem to get it under control.

“I know you’re awake. We have cameras watching you.” The voice is deep, growly, and full of dark promise. My insides churn as he walks closer to me. “Are you still going to pretend like you’re asleep? Because I have no problem starting the examination either way.”

Examination? Then maybe I am in the hospital.The nausea threatening to rise to the surface lowers a touch as I catch the glimpse of a white coat in my peripheral. “Wh-what’s wrong with me? Is it my spine?”

The ever-present clacking stops, and I can feel the displacement of air as he turns near my shins. “To my knowledge, there’s nothing wrong with you. This exam is just precautionary. Here, let’s make this a little better, shall we?”

His hands are hot against my frigid skin, and in that moment, I realize my legs at least are completely uncovered. Panic rises as he skims his fingers up my leg and stomach. Naked. Everything. What type of hospital is this?

“I need a gown, please.” The wavering tremor in my voice grates on my nerves. I wanted so badly to be strong, to voice my needs like a woman. Instead, it’s coming out like a small, lost child.

“A gown for what? Where you’re going, you won’t need any clothes. Why waste them on you now?”

It’s just as I thought. I’ve been kidnapped. But by who? Why? The stranger’s hands scald me as they loosen up the various belts holding me down to the table. Should I try to fight him? Would I even stand a chance?

The table whirs to life and morphs from a flat surface to something more like a chair, and my stomach clenches as my head goes forward. Biting down on my lower lip, I breathe deep, forcing the contents of my stomach to stay down. I’m bent at the waist with my legs splayed up in front of me. It’s like the gynecologist, but far more intrusive and uncomfortable.

Once I’m where he likes me, the stranger walks back in front, his doctor’s coat flapping with each step he takes. He’s unlike any doctor I’ve ever seen. Dark denim pants hang low on his hips. He’s not wearing a shirt underneath the coat, revealing his muscly tattooed chest. Looking up from there, his full lips twist into a smirk.

Though I can’t tell how old he is, he looks a bit older than me. He pulls up a stool, his eyes never leaving mine, and sits in between my thighs. Though I try as hard as I can to close them, the straps don’t allow me.

The muscles burn as I strain against the padded straps holding me hostage, but they don’t give. As he watches me struggle, the smirk widens. It’s like he’s enjoying himself.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer. Understand?” My chin quivers as I nod. “Oh no sweetie. You’re going to learn soon enough that we demand words. A nod just simply won’t do. You will say either yes, Sir or no, Sir. Now let’s try this again. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice still wavers, but it sounds a touch stronger than before. There’s that at least.

“Very good.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out a sheet of paper and begins reading from it. “Name?”

“Penelope Evans, Sir.” Maybe if I’m over-polite and obey him right away, he won’t hurt me as badly. There’s always that hope, right?

“It says here, Penny.”

“That’s my nickname, Sir.”

“Hmmm. I prefer Penelope. It rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?” The wink he gives me as he slides his tongue over his lips sends heat racing up my cheeks. “Age.”

“Twenty-two, Sir.”

“Louder. I want the cameras to hear everything you say. Your responses are being recorded.”

Dumbstruck, I look in every possible corner I can, but don’t see anything that looks even close to a camera. The strap holding my head down doesn’t allow me to see very much, so there’s still a chance he’s not lying. At the stranger’s exasperated sigh, I look back down at him as he stands and starts to fiddle with the buckle on his belt.

“I was hoping we could get through this part without discipline.” He tugs on one end and drags it through, the sound of the belt clearing the loops skittering up my spine. Shuddering, I stare at the folded leather. It looks worn and well-used.

Dad didn’t even spank me growing up, much less use a belt on me. He didn’t need to. Even after Mom died, I kept up with my grades, helped out around the house, and didn’t party. Hell, in many ways, I was more mature than Dad. The very thought of this stranger using a belt on me sends bile racing up my throat.

“N-no, Sir. Please. I’m sorry, Sir. Twenty-two!” I purposefully raise my voice when I state my age, not wanting to be told or threatened again.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, hanging the belt on my left leg. “How long ago did you turn twenty-two?”

“I don’t know.” Bile rises again as my heart jackhammers out of control.

“How do you not know?”

“I don’t know what fucking day it is!” I scream out, hysteria forcing my mouth open. Instead of paying me any attention, he makes a few notes on his paper.

“Language. I promise you, you will not like what we do to wayward tongues. A ballpark, if you will.”

“About a month?”

“Father’s name?”

“Jack Evans, Sir.”

“Are you aware that your father frequents gambling halls all across the city?”

I want to hang my head, to hide the shame from this man, but the strap holding my forehead doesn’t let me. “Not for certain, Sir. But I’ve had my suspicions.”

“I see. Virginity status?”

My jaw drops as I stare at him, unable to answer for a moment. Why type of question is that? He doesn’t even look up from his papers, but his hand starts to inch towards the belt.

“I’m a virgin.”

That gets him to look up at me. “Toys? Masturbation? Dildos?”

“I don’t underst-.”

“Fortunately for you,” he pauses for a moment and puts the papers down in his lap. “You’re not here to understand. Now answer the question. And make sure you speak up for the camera.”

I swallow, looking down to avoid his heated gaze. Unfortunately, that shows me just how naked and vulnerable I am. “Fingers only. I don’t dare get a vibrator while I’m still at home with Dad.”

“I see. So, a college girl and a virgin. Seems highly unlikely.” Again, he pauses, but this time, he places his hand against his ear and looks up at a spot high on the wall. “Did you ever insert your fingers inside?”

Heat engulfs my face. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Did anyone else insert their fingers into you?”

“Yes, Sir.” I glance away, unable to meet his unyielding gaze. It’s bad enough that the fun I did have left me feeling ashamed and used.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Fuck. How do I even answer that one? The few men that took advantage of me didn’t seem to care if it hurt or not. They just shoved their fingers right in, grateful to be allowed any sort of access.

“Look at me.” The bite in his tone is acidic, forcing my gaze upward. “Don’t you dare lie.”

“No.” Just that one word and shame fills me to the brim. I hated what they did to me, but in return for their fumbling, I got a few precious moments where someone wanted me. If I closed my eyes tight enough, I could convince myself they even loved me.

He shuffles forward, his eyes gleaming. “Did you get wet though?”

Did I? I honestly don’t know. Everything was always over so quickly. “I don’t think so.” More tears fall as the depressing state of my romantic life comes into full view. Here with this stranger, I can no longer hide from myself or the deluded truth.

“Shh. Don’t worry. We’ll find out sooner or later. Commencing examination.” He stands up and walks over to the side before wheeling a cart into view. Some of the shiny, metal objects on the tray look familiar, but several don’t. Once the tray is where he likes it, he brings over a large light and shines it down on me, illuminating my pussy.

It’s so disconcerting having something I’ve hidden away to be put on such a vulgar display. In high school, I’d race to the single shower, just so I wouldn’t have to share. When I’m with the frat guys, I insist they keep the lights off. It’s not that I’m exactly ashamed of my body, I’m more ashamed of the things I feel and the sensations those errant thoughts cause.

Even now, with this stranger looking at me, I can feel that niggle of arousal fluttering through my stomach. It’s sickening. I’m ashamed of the needs that no man seems to be able to satisfy. The guys I’ve fooled around with stir up all the wanton feelings, but none of them have been able to really give me what I need.

Instead of pleasure, I get pain. What’s worse is, it’s the pain that seems to ramp things up even more for me. I don’t dare tell the man in front of me. He asked if I enjoyed it. The honest answer is no. I was always left unsatisfied.

Groaning, I let my head rest against the padding and close my eyes. Maybe if I don’t watch him, it won’t be so mortifying. His hot breath against my lower lips has me squirming against the leather in a desperate attempt to get away, but the straps don’t budge.

“She’ll need to be cleaned up before the presentation. Commencing hair removal now.”

Kill me. Just kill me.

I kept things trimmed to make sure nothing really poked out around my underwear, but I never felt the need to remove everything. Cold cream is a sharp contrast to my sensitive skin, and soon, the unmistakable scrape of the razor as it goes through my hair fills the room.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

He pauses for a moment before removing the razor from me and clinking it against a glass. “You really want to ask me questions when I have something so sharp near something so delicate?”

Unfortunately, he has a point. Biting down on my lower lip, I let him resume, willing the lulling scrapes to soothe me enough to put me to sleep. Maybe then I can wake up from this nightmare. Bile rises up my throat as his hands move over me like he owns me. So far, he hasn’t caused me any harm, but who knows how long that will last?

The stranger slides something under me before pouring water over the shaved area. It’s already far more sensitive than I could have anticipated. Once more, arousal curls through me as the warm water washes over my skin. I groan as unmistakable need fills my body. Why am I responding to this? I guess Dad is right. I’m just a little slut.

It doesn’t matter that I haven’t had actual sex. I was a slut ever since I got enough curves to make men notice. Somehow, it was always my fault. Is this my fault too? Yeah, I probably had one too many drinks, but does that make this just? Fitting?

Soon, his fingers skim my mound, searching out any errant hairs. Once that passes inspection, they start to drift lower, spreading me apart to get to my inner lips. Again, I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t cut me.

“Your pulse just spiked. You okay?”

His deep voice startles me, and I flinch at the words. “I’m not okay. You’re doing things to me that are wrong. You have no right to be down there and touch me like this.”

“Ah. But that’s where you’re wrong. I do have every right. Now keep still.” I let him go about his work, terrified of distracting him. As the razor scrapes against my skin, arousal starts to build once more. “I think someone likes this,” he murmurs, clinking the razor in the glass again. “You’re so very wet.”

Heat engulfs my face at his words. I’m not trying to get turned on. It’s just happening! I can’t be at fault for something my body chooses to do! Without a word, he goes to the other side and starts all over again. Thick, rough fingers slide between my lips, pulling and stretching the skin. Again, I groan, unable to restrain the lurid sound from spilling out.

“Such a naughty, filthy little girl,” he replies, smacking his fingertips against me. “Just how I like them. And I’m only preparing you. We haven’t even begun the examination yet. Tell you what. You make it through without creaming yourself, and I’ll tell you why you’re here.”

There’s no way I can orgasm. Not with some stranger touching me. He’s crazy if he thinks that’s going to happen.