Page 6 of Innocence Tamed
Nurse Georges began to circle my nipples with her thumbs, watching the tablet screen intently. I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped my lips as her thumbs continued their little circles. My body was responding in ways I couldn’t control, and the knowledge that some device had measured those responses made it all the more humiliating.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can you… can you stop?”
“I told you. The sensor needs to establish baseline arousal patterns,” Nurse Georges explained dispassionately. “Your responses are quite strong. That’s good—it means you’re naturally susceptible to dominant sexual stimulation.”
She removed her hands from my breasts and checked her tablet again. “The perineal sensor is functioning perfectly. We’ll proceed with the examination to verify your eligibility for the First Intimacy Premium.”
I tried to keep my gaze fixed upward as I heard her moving about, opening drawers and preparing instruments. The paperbeneath me crinkled loudly with each involuntary shiver that passed through my body.
“I’m going to examine your genitals now,” she announced, as dispassionately as if she were about to check my throat for strep. “You’ll feel my touch. Try to relax.”
Relax? I almost laughed hysterically at the suggestion. How could anyone relax in this position? But I took a deep breath and tried to loosen my tense muscles as her gloved fingers gently parted my labia.
“Good,” she murmured, more to herself, or maybe to a recorder app on her tablet, than to me. “External genitalia appear normal and healthy.”
I felt her fingers exploring, touching parts of me I’d barely acknowledged myself. The casual nature of her touch somehow made it more bearable—and yet, to my mortification, I could feel a warm, liquid sensation gathering between my legs. The horrible sensor must be detecting that too, I realized with fresh embarrassment.
“Now I’m going to use a speculum to examine your vaginal canal and cervix,” she said. “You’ll feel some pressure.”
I heard the clink of metal and then felt something cold and hard pressing against the opening to my virgin sheath. I gasped as the speculum entered me, the sensation strange and invasive, but not quite painful.
“Breathe,” Nurse Georges instructed, sounding almost bored. “If you focus on your breath, it will help you relax.”
I tried to think only about my breathing as I felt the speculum open inside me, stretching me in a way I’d never experiencedbefore. A bright light suddenly appeared between my spread thighs, and I realized she was using some kind of examination light to peer inside me.
“Mmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “As expected, your hymen is intact. Clear evidence of no prior penetration.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, as if that could somehow shield me from this invasion of privacy.
“I need to document this for your file,” she said. “Hold very still.”
I heard a soft click, and my eyes flew open in alarm. “Did you just?—”
“Take a picture? Yes,” she confirmed without a hint of apology. “We’re talking about a good deal of money here, after all. Verification is essential. It’s also important that you have a thorough understanding of what will happen when your first sponsor thrusts his penis into your vagina.”
To my horror, she held up her tablet in front of my face.
The screen displayed a high-resolution, clinical image of my most intimate parts spread open by the speculum. Nurse Georges pointed with a gloved finger to a little white ring in the middle.
“That’s the membrane we call the hymen,” she said. “When a man’s penis enters you, it will rupture your hymen. That will cause some discomfort, but it will pass quickly. More important, perhaps, your submissive sexuality will make the discomfort itself a source of excitement.”
I turned my head away, my cheeks burning with humiliation.
“Please, I don’t want to see that,” I whispered, though I didn’t feel sure that the nurse’s mortifying words hadn’t disturbed me more than the terribly graphic image. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
“You should familiarize yourself with your own anatomy,” Nurse Georges replied, her tone matter-of-fact as she finally lowered the tablet. “It’s important for you to understand what your sponsor will be purchasing.”
Purchasing. The word made my stomach clench. Is that what this was? Was I selling myself? The clinical framing of Selecta’s ‘arrangement’ suddenly felt like a thin veneer over something much more primitive.
“We’re not quite finished,” Nurse Georges continued, removing the speculum with a slick sound that made me wince. “I’m going to examine your rectum as well.”
I tensed immediately. “My… rectum?” I stammered, my voice barely audible.
“Of course. Selecta Arrangement sponsors have the right to expect full sexual access to your body, especially at the luxury level where the First Intimacy Program comes into play,” she explained as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to assess your suitability for anal penetration.”
Before I could object, I felt her gloved finger, now slick with some kind of lubricant, pressing against my anus. I gasped, my body instinctively trying to pull away from the intrusion.
“Relax,” she instructed firmly. “Bearing down slightly will make this easier.”
