“Your fear is delicious,” he moans. I go back to tying my hospital gown, and he yanks my hands away. “Not yet, you slut.” I’m shaking so badly at this point, having no idea what he is about to do to me. He stands right in front of me, breathes me in again, and twists me so my back is hitting his chest. He forcefully bends me forward with my back completely exposed and the hospital gown barely covering me up in the front. He takes his gun and trails it slowly down my spine, stopping it right at the beginning of my ass. Everyone is watching in silence at this point. He takes his other hand and slides his fingers through my wet slit, coating them, and then shoves two fingers into my tight hole, thrusting in and out. I scream and writhe in pain. He whispers in my ear, “Open up, princess,” and he starts working his fingers while moaning softly in my ear. I am paralyzed by fear and completely embarrassed while the women watching turn pale and divert their gaze to the floor, tears coating their faces. He quickly unzips his pants, pulls out his enlarged cock, and yells, “This is what happens when sluts don’t listen!”
“No, no, please, no!” I start yelling, trying to get out of his grip.
“Frankie and Sam, hold her arms down!” he yells.
“Not a problem, Rio,” the one I think is Sam says, delighted by the show.
As both come forward with huge smiles on their faces, they grab my arms, and one of them shoves my head to the tiled floor. He pulls my hips up, spits on his cock, and pushes it into my ass with one swift thrust.
I scream out and begin crying, trying to squirm away; the pain, the burn—it is unbearable. He holds on to my hips, gripping them so tightly I know there will be bruises there. I hear him growling as his length seems to stiffen inside of me, more turned on by my tears spilling over and fighting it.
He reaches through my legs with the gun and moves it back and forth so it slides up and down my clit, and I cry out. The quiet warning is clear as day: stay still, and you get to keep breathing. I swallow the lump forming in my throat, holding the vomit that threatens to come out, pleading with my mind to go elsewhere so I can block this out. The feeling of degradation and humiliation floods my body.
I feel a warm liquid run down between my thighs. He must see it, too, because I feel his cock jerk inside me excitedly at the idea of my body betraying me.
He starts thrusting harder, and I pray he is about to come and put an end to this agony.
Minutes later, he stops thrusting and moans as he spills in my ass. “Take. Every. Last. Drop. Princess,” he says, thrusting one final time.
As he pulls out agonizingly slow, he moves to stand beside me, places his boot on my side, and kicks me over. The other guards must have released me at some point, and now I’m on my back, crying and sweating while he leaks out of me. I amcompletely deflated, knowing my mind is more bruised than my body ever will be, and I want to sink into the floor.
Stumbling to my feet, my eyes never leaving the floor, I straighten my hospital gown. As I’m tying the strings on the back, Rio says, “The first lesson of the day: don’t hesitate to follow orders.” He winks at me as he licks the tips of his fingers.
Bile starts forming in the back of my throat, and I have to force my eyes toward the ceiling in order to swallow it down.
Frantically, I look over when my senses come back to me, and I hear noises. I notice a guy they were calling Zane shoving his cock down another one of the girl's throats while holding her nose. She is slobbering everywhere with tears streaming down her cheeks while he’s holding onto her hair with one hand to control her. Her face is turning a different shade of color due to her not being able to breathe.
He releases her nose, and she inhales deeply just as he finishes down her throat. Then, he takes his boot and kicks her right in the chest, knocking her backwards like she is nothing. She cowers and crawls toward the rest of the girls, who are standing petrified.
“For today’s agenda, we are going to escort you to the shaving room where you will be paired with a nurse, and they will remove all of the hair from your body except the hair on your head. You will also get a piercing, which is up to our discretion and has already been assigned to you on your chart.”
Many of the women gasp and cover their mouths. I feel like squirming out of my skin, knowing someone else is going to see very intimate parts of me again. They are slowly removing any modesty or privacy we felt like we had and are breaking us down in every way possible. Puzzle pieces are beginning to form in my mind, one of them being that we are like prized show horses being prepared for someone.
“Next up, we are going to head to the showers where you will get to wash yourself for approximately 5 minutes, no more, no less. Then, we are going to visit the good old doc,” Rio says, grinning mischievously.
“If you don’t obey and cause a problem of any kind, Sam and Frankie here are going to strip you, then beat the shit out of you and take you to the punishment room, where they will hogtie you and take all of your holes at once. They will avoid your face since those are the money makers, and you need your legs and arms, but I’ve advised them to break your ribs.” He chuckles to himself as if it’s an inside joke.
He speed-walks over and stands in front of me, and I can feel his breath as he looks down on me.
He takes his gun and places the tip of it under my chin, tilting my head up, and purrs, “Princess, say ‘yes, sir’ if you understand.”
Reluctantly, with my nose flaring in disgust, I angrily spit out, “Yes, sir.” I hear the other women robotically say it as well. Some of them have even put their heads down, focusing on the floor or their feet, submitting completely to the idea that this is their fate and the fear of being subjected to the punishment room.
“Good, I’m glad we have an understanding,” he growls, and the other men snicker amongst themselves.
“Line up in front of me. Frankie and Sam, you flank the sides, and Zane, you get the back; let’s go!” Rio yells, pointing his gun in those directions.
Of course, I am in the front, limping from the pain. I start to follow him through a door in the back of the room, which again has a keypad. He types in the four-digit code with ease, and it opens. I look up, and over the door is a camera.
We are led through another hallway, where we take a left and walk for quite a while until we come to a door on our right, where he stops and punches in the code.
Instantly, I see about twenty patient beds with stirrups and arm cuffs, and sitting in front of them on chairs are women in scrubs and masks. Beside them are small tables with tools scattered on top, some of which I’ve seen in my gynecologist’s office, but the others look like something out of a horror movie.
The armed guard for this room comes up and claps Rio on the back. “Hey, Rio, rough group today?” His eyes darken, hoping for anyone still fighting.
Rio smirks back and responds, “Not too bad, man; I got to at least taste some of the merchandise this time.” He looks back and stares right at me.
Holding back a gag, I look elsewhere in disbelief.
