Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

S ophia

Malleus' hand gripped my upper arm firmly once again as he guided me down the subtly lit, red-carpeted hallway. My feet felt cushioned by the pile beneath them, but each step amplified the sting of my glowing hot bottom. I chewed the inside of my cheek so that I wouldn't whimper with every wincing footfall.

My shame felt like a living thing, a creature writhing within me, clawing at my composure. Each movement of air against my bare skin sent shivers through my body, mingling humiliation with an unwelcome arousal that flared below my belly.

"Keep up, Sophia," Malleus' voice rumbled, a command wrapped in gravel and steel. His tone left no room for hesitation, and I quickened my pace despite the soreness of my backside.

We reached a door marked with an impersonal Exam Room sign. Malleus swung it open to reveal a gynecologist's domain. The room looked like a temple of gleaming steel and immaculate white surfaces, a place where flesh met cold precision. My heart started to pound, the way it always did at my checkups, as my eyes took in the array of medical instruments laid out on the tray that sat on a cart next to the exam chair: a headlamp, a speculum, and two devices whose purpose I could only guess at, though the shape of one of them brought an instant, hot blush to my cheeks.

"Get in the chair, columba ," Malleus commanded, his grip never faltering. He led me to the center of the room where the examination chair loomed—a frightening slab of steel and leather that seemed designed to amplify my vulnerability. It stood high off the ground, wide enough to make me feel diminutive and exposed. Its metal knee-stirrups made my tummy flip.

"Please…" I whispered, my voice trembling with fear, of the chair, of the doctor, of my own helpless reaction to all of it. But Malleus offered no reprieve, no softening of his stern demeanor.

"Up," he repeated, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. I found myself laid out, my back pressed against the cool leather, my legs dangling over the edges. I cried out as my punished bottom-cheeks came into contact with the lightly padded surface, but Malleus ignored my anguish. He moved with practiced efficiency, securing my knees into the stirrups first.

At that point I noticed something about the chair that had escaped me at first glance. It had a sort of attachment I had never seen before—at least in a doctor's office: stout, black webbing restraints with velcro fastenings. Turning my head in surprise and trepidation, I saw them on the knee-stirrups, on the sides, and—out of the corner of my eye—behind my head, a collar positioned to go around my neck.

As I tried to understand, I felt Malleus fasten the strap across my right knee. Out of sheer panicked instinct, I tried to get my left knee out of that stirrup, but Malleus didn't allow it. His left hand held my knee in place with casual strength while with his other hand he secured the knee there with the velcro strap. A new flare of heat rose in my face at how wide he had spread my legs, rendering any attempt at modesty futile.

"Wh-why?" I stammered, my eyes wide as I looked at his face, which seemed hard as stone. His attention remained on the task of securing me to the chair, but he spared me a cold glance.

"Don't ask useless questions, columba ," he told me.

I bit my lip. It had quickly become my least favorite sentence in the world—not least because of the effect, not diminishing but instead apparently growing each time Malleus spoke, it had on me between my thighs. I shot him an angry look, a jolt of fear and excitement going to the pit of my stomach at the thought he might punish me for it. Malleus paid my face no attention at all, though. Nor did he answer my "useless" question, as he had done the last time he had issued the odious, arousing command.

Instead, "You're doing well," he murmured, to my astonishment, almost too softly to hear. His words had an edge of approval that sent a strange thrill through me.

The belt around my waist made that thrill more intense and more ambiguous. I wriggled instinctively, biting my lips as I felt the hot, lingering soreness from his enormous hand on my backside. Malleus wasn't having any of that, either: he pulled the velcro tight to keep me immobile. It dug into my skin, as if my new miles meant to deliver a sharp reminder of my complete lack of control. My wrists were cuffed next, fastened securely to the sides of the table. Each restraint felt like a chain linking me irrevocably to the insanity of this place.

"Last one," Malleus said, looking into my eyes for the first time in what felt like long moments. "Lay your head back, columba ."

I blinked, because for the first time I realized what columba meant. Like French colombe : dove. The helpless, peaceful, white bird. Innocent and…

Easily tamed. Easily broken. Lovely, pure, fragile.

Malleus' eyes bored into mine, daring me to resist. But I had no fight left in me. I lay my head back against the slightly cushioned headrest, feeling my brow crease deeply. I saw Malleus' huge hands approach, lower than my face. I whimpered as I felt him fasten the collar around my neck, unyielding webbing against my throat. I felt a wave of some different feeling wash over me: not pleasure, exactly, but a feeling of emotional comfort.

Submission. My breath caught in my throat. Oh, no. The idea that the insane things Malleus had told me—with the prospect of yet more lunacy to come—that those things were actually true about me… I pushed it down. I wasn't submissive. Submission didn't feel good. I thought for myself. I did things for myself. I…

" Bene, columba ," he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. I lay there, fully restrained, my breathing shallow and erratic. The cold air prickled my skin, making me acutely aware of every inch of my naked, exposed body.

Bene, columba. Like, bien, colombe. Well done. Good girl, in whatever-the-hell brand of Latin the Order of Ostia uses.

The door to the exam room swung open with a soft creak, and first a doctor and then a nurse entered. I gave a little cry of surprise at the lack of a knock before the opening of the door that revealed my naked, spread state to the hallway, but no one paid my distress any attention.

Dr. Demetriou, Malleus had said. Her white-coated presence immediately dominated the sterile space. Her eyes, cold and piercing, scanned over me with an almost clinical detachment. She moved with a precision that sent shivers down my spine, each step echoing in the oppressive silence of the room.

By contrast, her nurse seemed meek. She kept her eyes downcast, and I swallowed hard as I noted that the young woman had a leather collar around her neck. I wondered suddenly and involuntarily whether she had any underwear on under her scrubs.

"Good afternoon, Sophia," the doctor said, her voice monotone and devoid of warmth. "I see you are prepared. Your miles disciplined you?"

I couldn't respond, my throat constricted by fear and shame. My gaze flickered to Malleus, who stood off to the side with an arrogantly satisfied smile curling his lips. His eyes met mine, and I felt a strange mixture of dread and arousal wash over me.

"That's right," Malleus said. "A little extra for her reluctance to take her clothes off, as well as the escape attempt."

The nurse pulled a stool out from under the counter and positioned it in front of me. Then she stepped back, and Dr. Demetriou sat on the stool and turned to the array of gleaming instruments laid out on the tray. She picked up the speculum, holding it up for me to see. The cold metal glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights, and my heart pounded in my chest.

"This is a speculum," she said condescendingly, her tone as if speaking to a child. "In case you haven't seen one before. I'm going to verify your virginity, and then check your responsiveness."

She put the speculum down and picked up the headlamp. With it on, she looked like an alien or a robot, either of which categories seemed to fit her demeanor better than human did.

The doctor rolled herself a little closer and picked up the speculum again, each of her movements methodical. I trembled all over as I lost sight of what her hands were doing. I tried to raise my head to see more and whimpered at the feeling of complete restraint from the collar.

I felt Dr. Demetriou insert the speculum, and my whimper became a cry of discomfort. The intrusion felt both foreign and uncomfortable. I bit my lip to stifle my embarrassing noises, acutely aware of Malleus' watchful eyes. The cold metal stretched me, the sensation painful and humiliating.

"Relax, columba ," the icy voice of the doctor instructed, her voice utterly devoid of sympathy. "This exam is an essential part of your training."

Her words served as a stark reminder of my predicament. I tried to comply, but my body betrayed my anxiety. My eyes darted back to Malleus, seeking some form of reassurance, but all I found was his patient satisfaction.

"Hymen is intact," the doctor said, clearly addressing the nurse, who I saw had fetched out a handheld from her scrubs. I felt something push, inside, down there. I cried out at the sudden pain. The doctor continued as if she hadn't heard me. "Permeability a little on the stiff side. Call it an eight."

She turned to look at Malleus. "She's going to experience a good deal of discomfort during first coitus."

"Noted," Malleus responded.

"I…" I said, as the hot shame coursed through my body.

"Hush, columba, " Malleus told me. "We'll discuss your defloration when the time comes."

I felt my face pucker into an almost childish pout of woe. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes as I looked from him to the doctor, finding no compassion at all. Dr. Demetriou didn't even look at me.

I felt the doctor's fingers, to my horror, brush against my breasts. The touch seemed cold and clinical, yet it ignited a dismaying spark of unwanted arousal within me. As she began to stimulate my nipples, shame burned through me, but so did a burgeoning heat. My breaths came quicker, my body reacting despite my mortification.

"Seven," Dr. Demetriou murmured, to the nurse, observing my responses. "Rising to nine. The body is highly responsive to stimulation. Accelerated training is definitely warranted."

Each humiliating comment chipped away at my resolve, exposing the depths of my conflicted emotions. I wanted to resist, to fight against the degrading examination, but my body betrayed me, responding eagerly to her touch. I understood, to my distress, why Malleus had restrained me: that feeling of submission served as its own form of persuasion.

I can't move. I have no choice. My body responds as it must. It's biology.

"Your online activity has been under surveillance for months," Dr. Demetriou said, her tone matter-of-fact. "A nanobot installed a perineal sensor on your perineum while you were sleeping. This exam is merely to help you begin to accept your submissive sexual needs so that Malleus can train you effectively."

Her bizarre revelations felt crushing, each one stripping away another layer of my autonomy. Yet, despite the humiliation, my eyes kept drifting to Malleus, seeking out his reaction. His smile remained, a constant reminder of his dominance over me.

The doctor picked up one of the two white silicone devices from the tray. It was small and oval shaped. "This is my stimulator," she told me, holding it close to my face for me to see. "Its vibrations are engineered to stimulate your clitoris and measure your arousal levels. It is designed to test and enhance your sexual responsiveness, and thus to begin teaching you how to give pleasure to the penis."

I heard a little beep, and then the stimulator began to emit a soft hum. A little red light went on at one end of it. My lips parted and my breath grew ragged as I watched the doctor lower the device out of my field of vision.

"W-wait…" I said, because I couldn't think of anything else that might prevent what to my horror I felt sure was about to happen, the moment the stimulator touched me down there.

But she placed the vibrator against my most sensitive spot, its hum immediately sending jolts of electric pleasure through my body. I cried out, my hips trying to rise against the restraint of the belt, desperately seeking the satisfaction Malleus had denied me after the spanking.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Dr. Demetriou pick up the other white thing, the one that had made me blush so deeply when I had first laid eyes on it. She displayed it before my wide eyes.

"This," she said, "is my girl trainer. I'm going to use it today to ensure your readiness for anal penetration."

The "girl trainer" was made out of white plastic, but it had the unmistakable, forbidden, mortifying shape of a man's rigid member. I had never seen one in person, let alone up close, but other girls in high school had giggled over pictures, and I hadn't been able to resist taking a peek, though the merest sight turned my face bright red.

I gasped as I felt the cool, smooth head press against my tight entrance, the sensation alien yet undeniably arousing. Dr. Demetriou's methodical precision left no room for modesty or resistance—my body was laid bare, vulnerable, and exposed to her ministrations.

"Relax, columba, " she commanded, her voice steady. "It will be easier if you do."

With deliberate care, she began to push the latex dildo into me, the stretch both painful and pleasurable. My breath hitched, a moan escaping my lips despite my attempts to stifle it. The simultaneous stimulation of my clitoris and anus was overwhelming, a potent mixture of sensations that threatened to drown me.

"Numbers?" she asked the nurse, her hands never faltering. Then, to Malleus, "She certainly presents well."

"Ten," the nurse said, glancing at her handheld. "Pre-orgasm."

I could hear them, but I could hardly understand them. The intensity built, my mind a haze of conflicting emotions. Shame battled with need, each wave of pleasure a reminder of my helplessness. I could feel the vibration of the stimulator increasing, its rhythm designed to push me to the brink. In my bottom, the sheer presence of something so big and so shameful seemed to turn pain into submissive pleasure.

"Does she have permission to orgasm?" the doctor asked Malleus.

"Oh, God… oh… please… miles ," I found myself crying out.

"She does," Malleus said, drawing an immediate sob from my chest. "Show us what you look like when you come, columba. "

My eyes sought his face again, his expression one of superiority, but also of approval. The knowledge that he was watching, assessing every reaction, only heightened my arousal. My breaths became even more ragged, my body trembling uncontrollably.

With a final, overwhelming surge of pleasure, I shattered. My climax ripped through me, my cries echoing in the sterile room. My body convulsed, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy. The betrayal of my desires seemed mortifyingly complete, my submissive nature laid bare for all to see.

The doctor pulled her tormenting devices away and put them on the tray. I couldn't bear to look at them, the embarrassment even at the thought bringing new heat to my face.

The doctor turned to Malleus, her eyes meeting his. "The columba gets high marks for responsiveness. She will be an asset to the Order, and a delight for the men who will use her orally, vaginally, and anally."

Humiliation washed over me anew, my cheeks burning with shame. Yet, despite myself, I glanced at Malleus, desperate to see his reaction. His smile broadened, a predator's grin, and I knew he was pleased.

"Very good," he said, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. He turned to the nurse, " Nupta , would you wax her for me, please? I'll be back to take her downstairs in fifteen minutes."