Part 2 of an ongoing story, see Part 1 for context. Short version, Karen has been captured by a man and woman for reasons as yet unknown. She has been left, post-facefuck, to await an intake inspection.
Karen sat slumped on the floor, staring blankly ahead and waiting for whoever was coming to inspect her. Somewhere in her mind, she railed at herself for giving in this easily, for not fighting back. These people had no right to hold her like this, to use her body and threaten worse. The girl had clearly been a set-up, and she'd fallen for it with a shameful ease. Furthermore, her damned pussy was dripping like a bad faucet after what should have rendered her shocked if not catatonic. This total stranger had not only shoved his rough fingers up her, he had held her by her hair and fucked her mouth until he left his load in her throat and walked away. Even her worst nights of drunken college hookups hadn't gone this way, but despite the shame and anger at herself, she was forced to admit an arousal that disgusted her. That part of her mind was a little too eager for the next round of their nefarious plans.
Several minutes passed, and she was beginning to think they weren't coming, that this was another mindfuck to keep her off balance. Then she heard the approaching footsteps. Keeping her head down, she saw shiny leather wingtips and men's slacks. Not the same level of thug she'd experienced so far. A second set of footsteps hurried behind, revealing heels and black stockings. Daring to look up, she saw a man, dark hair, glasses, shirt and tie, holding a clipboard. The woman behind him, in a just-that-much-too short skirt and crisp white shirt, staying a few steps behind him. He unlocked the door of her cell, and snapped his fingers at her like he was calling a dog to heel.
"On your feet, girl. We're on a schedule." He waited a few seconds, then stepped back from the door, allowing his colleague to enter. She stood over Karen, sizing her up, then squatted next to her. Karen half-expected a sympathetic cajoling, an attempt to persuade her to go along, it will get better. As a hand gripped her hair and pulled her head back and close to her new assailant's lips, she lost that scant hope.
"He said on your feet, cunt. Get moving, or see why he leaves this part to me."
Karen struggled to her feet, hair still wrapped around the woman's fingers, and waited as the collar around her neck was unlocked and removed. Apparently the cuffs on her wrists and ankles were going with them, as no one made an effort to release her from them. The man began to lead the way down the hall, and Karen shuffled behind, hurried along by the sadistic blonde pulling her hair to steer her. They wound through hallways, past other empty cells and arrived at a set of heavy double doors, leading to an examination room. The incongruity of a gleaming medical room in the middle of this seeming prison was filed away in Karen's mind to ponder later. For now, she was more concerned with what would happen here.
"Rebecca, we can dispense with her shackles and the grip you have on her. There's nowhere to escape to, and she's not strong enough to fight after the night she's had. It will also make my job easier."
"Your call, Doctor. I'll be staying to observe, regardless."
He nodded absently, moving to the small table next to a hospital bed. Karen stood numbly still as Rebecca produced a key from her pockets and unlocked the cuffs. Her wrists and ankles felt strangely weightless as the restraints were removed. The doctor gestured to the bed, and Karen obeyed, clambering up and laying back, no longer even thinking to cover her nakedness. After a moment, he turned to her and began his inspection. He rattled off her basic statistics, height, weight, eye color, announcing them for the benefit of both his observer and the recording device sitting on his table, among the instruments and items he had laid out. Gripping her ankles, he lifted her legs up and without preamble inserted a lubed thermometer into her ass, waited for the reading and recorded it. He slid it out, put her legs down and ran a hand between her thighs, leaving her exposed as he proceeded. He poked and prodded at her, feeling the muscles in her limbs, and then the exam grew more intimate.
He ran a hand around her breasts, commenting on both the size and coloration of her nipples and areolas. He gave a small pinch and twist to them, pulling just hard enough to draw a gasp from her, and commented on how responsive her nipples were to just that small amount of pain. He worked his way down her body, noting her choice to trim but not shave her pubic hair, and the size and shape of her labia. The clinical detachment, and his insistence on using medical terms rather than the vulgar names her previous captors had chosen, left her feeling like an object, a thing to be studied. He moved back to her head, looking at her face but not seeming to see her as anything but a subject to study. No glimmer of empathy or humanity reached his expressionless face. He snapped his fingers again, and Karen saw Rebecca move swiftly to the table in her peripheral vision. Now the doctor addressed her.
"Open your mouth, please. We have more data to collect." She dumbly obeyed, expecting a tongue depressor or some such. Instead, the doctor was wielding a slim silicone dildo, with numbers up the side like a measuring cup. She froze for a moment, and a hand gripped her chin, pulling her jaw down as he slid it into her mouth and down her throat. She panicked, momentarily unable to breath. Suddenly Rebecca was at her ear, telling her to breath through her nose, and relax her throat. The doctor pushed the dildo a little further until Karen began to choke in earnest, and it was gone. The doctor announced that she could reasonably accept 7 inches before gagging, and with proper application, could take another 2 at this point. The way he phrased it carried an implication of future changes.
