The Wild Wicked West Ch 03

The Wild, Wicked West

Stolen Brides and Modern Slavery

Part 1

Chapter 3 - The Doctor's Final Assessment

~ Shelby ~

Her first thought was that he must have drugged her food, because she'd slept hard, had no memory of her dreams, and was in the same curled up position as when she'd shut her eyes. She was cold, and the cot was thin so the bars of the iron frame were digging into her hip.

Disoriented, it took her a few seconds to remember exactly where she was as the heavy footsteps descended. She wasn't home. She'd been kidnapped. She'd been strapped to a table and forced to endure being touched, being hurt. She was chained to this bed.

Misery overtook her and she curled into a tighter ball. "I want to go home," she whimpered softly, nothing more than a painful reminder that she still had a voice. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to be left alone.

He kicked the leg of the bed to get her attention and a dull thwang sounded through the room. "Get up, slut. Go use the toilet, and come back here."

She lifted her head and saw that he had something in his gloved hands. She paled, realizing it was an enema bag.

"Please..." she croaked. "Please, no..."

"This is the shit I hate," he muttered, his scowl twisting his handsome face into something much more sinister. "I hate when you sluts forget what happened yesterday. I hate having to repeat myself. I hate trying to rinse the blood out of the cement on the floor.

"Your antics yesterday pushed back my timeline, so I'm already behind and not too pleased about it. So, this is the only time I'll remind you today. Your only warning. If you slip up, I won't leave you to your thoughts like yesterday. Get your fucking ass to that toilet, or I'm going to cuff your hands behind your back instead of in front of it, blind you and put that gag back in. Do what I say, when I say it--it's really not that fuckin' hard."

At that, Shelby lifted herself to a seated position. His eyes held no kindness. His fists were clenched, like he was waiting for her to make the wrong decision. She rose, wiping the tear that leaked down her cheek, and stood, wincing a little at the soreness in her muscles. It was like she'd worked out, but she knew it was from how hard her body had strained against the straps holding her down. She padded towards the toilet, the chain that attached to her iron bed jangling behind her.

Apart from the collar and chain, she was nude--had been since yesterday. He'd seen every inch of her body, had touched her wherever he wanted, had forced her into two horrible, painful orgasms, had used a speculum to see deeper into her person than anyone else ever had. But something about someone watching as she used the toilet made her skin crawl. Though she didn't attempt it, she was fairly sure that if she looked at his face, she'd see no human emotions.

The toilet paper was few paltry sheets left on a roll, but better than nothing. Her face was flaming as she flushed, knowing he'd watched the whole thing. When she was done, he gestured to the cot. "Kneel facing the bed; put your nose to the mattress with your hands over your head."

Her heart started to race. She'd given herself small rinse-outs this past week so she could be confident wearing the plug, but she'd never done a whole bag like that. That red rubber bag looked... really full. She slowed, wanting to put off the inevitable as long as possible.

"I also have a dose of that drug in my pocket that'll relax your whole body and keep you awake. Your choice," he said. "Paralysis enema or hurry up."

The threat of paralysis was enough--not being able to move at all would make her very slim chance of escape into a complete impossibility. So, with a prayer to any higher authority that existed to please get her out of this, she closed the distance and sunk to her knees. The cold, hard cement stuck into her skin painfully as she lifted her hands and bent forward. She lowered her nose to the cot, trying not to inhale the scent of so many women before her.

"Spread your legs," he instructed. She did, feeling a little pressure starting in her clit at this helpless position and the authority in his voice, and felt his palm on her butt cheek. He pulled her open, spreading her to the cold air, and she buried her head down further. He dribbled some cool liquid on her asshole. It was so cold, she jumped, and immediately felt his hand on her lower back, pressing her into the mattress. He held her down and inserted the slim nozzle through her clenched opening.

She made a noise of protest, mostly blowing air through her nose, and closed her eyes. Humiliation was threatening to burn her up. He was making her kneel, take water into her ass--he was going to make her expel her insides and he'd probably watch the whole time.

When the water started flowing, she felt it as a cool rush in her bowels. It felt strange, then it started to feel... more.

It was pressure, filling her up and sloshing through her. Her abdomen started cramping, and she felt her asshole clenching and unclenching around the thin tube. The ache built, hot and dull, as her insides filled and expanded under the gravity-fed rush of the water. She whimpered and moaned, wiggling her ass a little as a way to relieve the pressure building. A sharp sting on her cheek almost had her loosing her bowels.

"Be still, slut."

She clamped down hard, and was rewarded with pain to her asshole from the hard plastic. Her pussy tingled and she felt the tears well in her eyes again. She didn't like this! Why did her body?! She didn't deserve this treatment, why was it turning her on?

A few moments of nearly unbearable fullness later, she saw in her peripheries as he reached down. "Hold it in, now. Stay right like that until I tell you."

She clenched as he pulled out the tube, not wanting the shame of letting anything go. Likely, it would only make him mad, and she was afraid of what he would do if she disobeyed him. She heard him move behind her, heard the water come on in the sink. She assumed, at first, he was cleaning the nozzle, then realized the water had been on too long and was no longer hitting the bottom of the sink basin. He was refilling the bag, she realized.

Her body rocked on the bed, the movement making the fullness inside her jostle unpleasantly. It was too much. She had to let it go. The pain was starting to radiate outwards, through her spine and down her legs. "Please," she whimpered.

"Please, what?" he asked, as if he already knew precisely what she wanted.

"I need to--"

"I hate to repeat myself," he interrupted, his tone sharpening.

"Please, Master," she amended, cringing at the words leaving her mouth. "I need to... let go."

"At least you learn quicker than some of the other sluts did. Yes, you may empty yourself. Then come back and present your ass to me the same way for the rinse."

With no small amount of difficulty, she lifted her torso back until she was vertical. Every movement made the water move around deep inside of her and drew a little cry from her lips. She made her way slowly enough across the room that nothing slipped from her tightly clenched butt, but quickly enough to satisfy her own desperate need to empty her bowels.

Sitting on the toilet and letting it go was almost sexual in the pleasure the relief brought. The water squirted into the bowl, going and going for so long she was shocked. Briefly, she looked up and saw him watching her with a blank face. She drew her knees tighter together and looked away.

The rinse out followed the same pattern--she knelt, bent forward, he inserted the nozzle and the liquid started to flow--but this time she was expecting the sensations. The water was a bit colder, and it felt different inside her, but her whole body was already so cold. She couldn't even feel her toes anymore. What was one additional discomfort?

She couldn't contain the little groaning noises as the bag continued to empty into her. It felt so strange, so wrong, to be filled this way. Knowing that a stranger was watching, was making her kneel, making her take it...

He bent down to pull out the nozzle and she clamped down again. She expected him to straighten and move away, but this time he lowered further--she heard his knee crack--and placed his hand on her lower belly. She jumped a little, not expecting the touch, and he sandwiched her body between his hands. Using his hold on her lower back to keep her in place, he massaged her stomach.

She cried out. Worse. This was so much worse. It made the pressure feel much more urgent.

"Shut up, slut. You'd better hold it in, unless you want another rinse."

Given a light at the end of this fucked up tunnel, Shelby bit down on her lower lip and tried to fist the mattress in her hands, grappling for purchase. It was so much, and she inhaled to warn him just as it was about to become too much, and he pulled back. The relief was instant, but minimal, and she shifted her weight to straighten.

"Did I say you could get up, slut?"

Her inhale broke in her throat, making it sound like a whining gasp. "Please, Master," she whimpered. "Please... I need to go to the toilet."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, she felt him hovering over her. His hand brushed against the back of her head and she stiffened, suddenly worried she'd done the wrong thing. But instead of pain, she heard the little lock click and felt the chain fall away. "All right, since you remembered to address me correctly. Next time, you're going to say 'please may I' instead of trying to tell me what you think you need."

With nothing to do except nod in taciturn agreement, she straightened, rose, and went to empty herself, trying to ignore the burning in her face and the blood pounding between her legs. It was easier, now that she didn't have to negotiate the chain that had followed her last time.

"You're going to take a shower, now," he told her after she flushed. He tossed her a tiny bar of soap, which she missed catching. It clattered to the floor.

She moved over to the corner, where two tiled walls met. The shower had one handle, which she positioned almost all the way towards the warm side. It was a small joy, one she expected him to take from her for no other reason than it felt nice instead of awful.

It wasn't easy to wash herself thoroughly with chained hands and a collar around her neck, but she managed. She could feel his eyes on her, and suddenly she was almost nostalgic for the way he'd made his medical observations aloud yesterday. It was like knowing what he was thinking, and it made her feel less like an animal being watched at the zoo.

Was he thinking those same clinical thoughts now? Or did he want her? Maybe if he wanted her, she could use that.

She drew out the experience as long as he let her, feeling the warmth seep into parts of her body that desperately needed it.

"Shower time is over, slut."

She turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. He was leaning against the wall by the stairs with his arms crossed, eyes hooded as he stared at her backside. His jeans looked tight in the front. That answered her question about whether or not he wanted her. She shivered at the knowledge, even as a deeply idiotic part of her preened at his lust.

When the water was off, she stood dripping over the drain. What was warm quickly turned cold in the open air, and she desperately hoped he had a towel stashed somewhere. He did--on the steps halfway up--and crossed the room towards her. She shrunk instinctively, but took the towel with shaking hands.

It was an odd powerlessness, being reminded of their size difference. He was much taller and broader. And though he was clearly at least fifteen years her senior, she knew he was strong. She swallowed thickly, and kept her head down as she dried off her body.

There was something seriously fucked up about him. He was close, watching her with a kind of obsessive single-mindedness, but he wasn't touching her. He'd only touched her with gloves on, and only when she was tied down. His hard on now made it obvious that he wanted to fuck her, but he wanted her to be clean--inside and out. Judging by the setup in his exam room, he probably wanted her to be immobilized, too. A chair with stirrups and built-in restraints wasn't something people just had laying around.

When she was mostly dry, he took the towel back and hooked his free hand under her arm. He all but dragged her up the stairs with him, and they crossed the same living room that had been completely dark the night before. The shades were still down, but it was clearly daytime from the sun streaming in through gaps.

She nearly dragged her heels when he opened the door to the medical exam room. "Get up on the table, put your legs in the stirrups and your hands over your head," he said, his tone clipped.

"Please, no..." she moaned, tugging against his grip.

Something inside her snapped as his fingers tightened around her upper arm. She wouldn't go quietly--not again. She started pulling, resisting with all she had. She screamed, tried using her other hand to pry his fingers as she twisted. She tried to leverage all her weight to make his grip slip by dropping to the floor.

"You fucking bitch," he growled, throwing the towel and enema bag to the floor and using his other hand to reach for her.

She twisted harder, feeling his grip loosen, and got exactly half a step before there was a flash of pain in her scalp and her head jerked backwards. The rest of her body followed suit, until her ass hit the wood floor hard enough to make her yelp. She heard and felt some of her hair being ripped out as he clenched his grip.

"Hard way it is, then," he growled at her, moving back towards the door to the exam room and dragging her by her hair.

She cried as it pulled, stinging and burning and hot. She gripped his wrist, trying to get some relief, until he tossed her against the desk on the side of the room. Her back hit the wooden corner, knocking the air out of her, and he followed it up with a sharp kick to her ribs.

Shelby had never been on the receiving end of violence like this, so the kick stunned her. As did the second. It took her brain a second to pick up on the pain, like time had stopped or slowed in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Then, when her consciousness was slammed back into her body, she realized she could hardly breathe. Her lungs burned and sharp pain attacked her from every side as she tried to fill them. Her mind started to panic, knowing she'd die without air, and she pulled harder on that elusive inhale.

It came rushing in, bringing a blinding amount of pain with it. She cried, even as she tucked inward to prevent further attack.

"And just so you don't think I'm all talk," he said, his voice low and ominous.

Shelby barely felt the prick of the needle, among all the other horrible sensations. With her eyes tightly closed, she only heard as he stepped back. Seconds stretched and she focused on breathing. In and out. In and out. Each shaky inhale brought the fiery feeling in her ribs and stomach, each exhale was too easy to fight. It was a slow onset, but it occurred to Shelby that her arms were starting to feel heavy, and it was hard to keep her legs clenched in towards her middle. Everything was full of lead.

She could still move her eyes, and breathing through the pain felt a little sluggish, but her limbs weren't responding to signals from her brain. Her mouth was slightly open, but her tongue wouldn't move.

A prisoner in her own body. That's what he'd threatened. That's what he'd made her. A tear slipped down her cheek. She could still acutely feel where he'd kicked her, and she could feel when he slipped an arm under her knees and behind her back. But she couldn't keep her head up when it fell back, and she couldn't fight him when he rose, carrying her. She couldn't roll off as he placed her on the bench. She couldn't protest as he placed her legs back in those hateful stirrups or stretched her arms over her head and hooked them to the chain. Because she couldn't move, he only bothered with a strap around her waist and one around each thigh.

The click sounded--this time she could see the small recording device in his hand. Distantly, she realized that made sense. "Subject displayed aversion to the exam room, and had to be subdued. She has been given an injection for temporary paralysis for our final stage of the exam."

The doctor wandered over to his desk and glanced at a file sitting on the table. "We ended yesterday with... ah, yes, gag reflex testing. Subject received a full enema and rinse this morning so we'll start there."

Shelby's blood ran cold. She could hear her breath coming out noisily, the only protest she could make.

The doctor ignored her, instead continuing with his notes as he clanged together some metal tools and rolled between her lifted legs. "As previously noted, subject arrived to the facility wearing a plug approximately three inches insertable depth and one and a half inches in diameter at the thickest point."

She felt something against her asshole and she made a grunting noise. No! Not there! Please not there, she wanted to beg. She'd enjoyed using the plug, going at her own speed, letting the feeling of fullness settle into her. But if this was going to be anything like yesterday, the doctor was going to test her limits and refuse to heed her cries of pain or protest.

His finger popped into her ass, feeling just as invasive as she knew it would. He pressed in and retreated, making only a shallow penetration as he smeared some kind of lubricant around her entrance and just inside. Internally, Shelby screamed and railed at him, even as the light pressure stimulated the nerves and started to make her belly stir. She hated this--she hated how he was manipulating her reactions, she hated how he was making her hate her own body for its betrayal.

A second finger joined the first, making the penetration feel distinctly uncomfortable. The lingering pain from his boot in her abdomen had dulled to a pounding ache, and now the fresh discomfort in her ass was making it seem even less pervasive.

He twisted his wrist as he moved in and out of her now, testing out the resistance and the slippery lubricant's coverage. She continued to sigh and grunt, hating it and liking it and hating how she liked it. Not being able to move, to wriggle away or maintain even the slightest amount of control in the situation was defeating in its degradation.

"Anal elasticity is good, though additional stretching is recommended. A shallow internal exam indicates no internal damage, and no external damage is visible from plugs. Inserting anal speculum."

Anal speculum?! That was a thing?! Dread pooled inside her, growing with no outlet.

He withdrew his fingers. The speculum was cold and it stretched her as it went in. It hurt, and she breathed out hard as it slipped in with a little popping noise. On its own, it felt large. When he started cranking the handle and it started opening, it was instantly too much. Her heartbeat went wild, and every quick breath was a small sound that he ignored.

"Dilation to an inch... an inch and a quarter... inch and a half... inch and three quarters..."

Shelby wished she could scream. Everything about this was like something out of a nightmare. She was entirely helpless against his invasion, to this pain in her asshole, to this invasion. Her poor, delicate hole was on fire as he continued to crank her open.

"Subject can be safely dilated to two inches with no signs of tearing, so recommend starting training there. No sign of penetration internally past about three inches depth. Based on the results of testing yesterday, it's fair to assume subject has never experienced anal orgasm."

He left her like that, rolling away and rummaging around in a drawer while her ass was open two inches. Two inches. She'd never had anything so large in her ass before. Shelby felt her temples and cheeks grow warm and wet as she cried. Her whole body felt on edge, throbbing, desperately needing release and relief.