Push. Push. PUSH.
Sweat dripped down Ariel's face. She wiped it aside with her towel and bared down on the pedals beneath her feet. She did this nearly every morning - trading her body's raw power for her mind's peace. She wasn't a professional athlete by any means - a bit too petite, for one thing - but she wasn't too far from peak fitness. She fought for it - not only for her lithe physique, but for the feeling.
The feeling that she could handle anything. Anything at all.
It didn't last for more than a few hours, but every minute was precious.
She stepped off the stationary bike and headed to the showers, walking less like a woman than a goddess.
Goddess of Fuck-You-I-Got-This.
She hit the showers.
Ten minutes later, she was teasing the tangles from her wavy hair, admiring the color. She'd finally gone to a nice salon and gotten the full highlights she'd wanted, transforming her almond locks into a dark blonde cascade. It suited her face. She decided that she was a solid Nine on a good day. Vanity wasn't typically her weakness, but she enjoyed it on the days that it was.
She patted on a little foundation and blush. She didn't feel like overdoing it. It was just another day of abuse at the fickle whims of a boss with far more success than he had ever deserved.
Money? Check.
Benefits? Check.
Dignity? Checked at the door.
She checked her phone. Running late. She would have to either call a cab or cut through the park. She decided on the latter. She was using this shortcut nearly every other day; the only hassle was cleaning her skirt of the plant debris on the way. She kept her heels in her purse so she could walk comfortably.
She cut through the alleys nearby the gym to save a few minutes. She might need to fix her hair before work.
She didn't notice that she was being followed.
Not until she was on the ground, a soaking cloth pressed firmly against her face.
***************
She began to wake as a stiff strap was sharply tightened and clasped over her wrist. Instinctively, she writhed - but each of her wrists and ankles were now tightly fastened to some semblance of an examination table. She had been stripped - her body lay bare beneath a blue cloth barely thicker than tissue paper. Hair tied back, feet resting in stirrups.
The air was chill and smelled of sanitizers. She shivered at the cool flow over her opening.
A figure to her left rested a gloved hand on her cheek. She squirmed.
"Shhhhh," he said. "Deep breaths." His face was smooth and chiseled, brown eyes soft.
"What's happening?" she squeaked. Her memory was shot. Had she gone to the gym? To work?
"Just a quick exam. Any discomfort?"
"My head hurts. And my shoulder, I guess? A little. What happened?"
"Relaxing will help. Do you have any medical conditions? On any medications?" He gently nudged an otoscope into one ear after the other, moving at a brisk pace.
"No, I don't think so?" She tried to remember. Fog of mind. A sweet, soapy taste on her tongue. Her throat felt raw. "Please tell me what happened." Panic crept in.
"You've got a few minor head contusions, but you'll be no worse for the wear. Open, please." A pen light shone down into her throat.
"I need to check your eyes for any signs of concussion. The harsh light blotted out his face. "Look to the left... to the right... up, down... very good."
"Why am I restrained? Where are my clothes? Am I hurt somewhere else?"
His smile was paternal. "You're okay. Just a few more things to check off the list before we can get you out of here."
She lurched up as a gloved hand migrated under the sheet, cool metal and fingers grazing her breast.
"Just checking your heart rate. Deep breath in. Good. And out. Gooood. One more time. In, out."
"Does my family know I'm here? Peter?"
"I'm sure we've already spoken with your emergency contact. Blood sample next." He turned away briefly. Her eyes widened at the sharp glint of a hypodermic needle. She whimpered involuntarily.
"Do I really need that?" She felt faint.
"Afraid of needles?" He smiled softly as he turned back to her. "It's okay. I'm very, very good at this. If you hold nice and still, you'll barely feel it. I promise."
She squeezed her eyes shut as the wetted gauze brushed her arm. She wasn't afraid of needles. She was terrified of them.
"You have a nice vein right here. We're very nearly done."
A pinch, a pull.
She felt nauseous.
"There we go. Not so bad?"
Her heart was thunderous. "Can I go now?"
He wrapped a label over a pair of blood-filled vials. "One last thing, and you're good to go." He walked briskly toward the end of the table and stood between her legs. Oh, god. He had a speculum.
"What do you need THAT for? I don't need that!" she squealed.
He leaned in, and she fought the restraints. "Why are you doing this?"
His voice was stern for the first time. "You've been a very good girl so far. You want to ruin it now?" And softer: "If you relax, this won't be uncomfortable."
"NO!" She desperately tugged at the straps, streamlining her fingers to try to slip free. His fingertips were suddenly at her opening, gently applying a thick layer of cold lubricant. "Stop! STOP!"
She tried to tighten her muscles, but the speculum slid in with little resistance. She felt herself suddenly spread wide.
"Please. Please. Please." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
His light shone in. "Hmmm. IUD. Are you sexually active?"
She barely heard him. Her skin was alive with panic, all other senses muted.
Her inserted a swab, gently pressed the sides of her walls, and set it aside. The speculum slid out.
"I'm going to remove it, now. Little pressure, that's all." She felt a firm tugging on her insides, then nothing. "Done."
"Let me go. Please," she whispered. The tears flowed freely, now.
Two lubricated fingers slid into her pulsing feminine. She squeaked when his thumb began to press against her rosebud. A new violation.
