Page 11 of Shameful Needs
Mrs. Chen stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder that felt more like a claim of ownership than comfort. “Officer Martinez and I will be leaving you in Nurse Simmons’ capable hands now,” she said, her voice carrying that same professional warmth that had made me want to scream during the entire van ride. “I have complete confidence that within a few days, you’ll be thanking Ryan for having the wisdom to enroll you in our program.”
“I’ll never thank him for this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Never.”
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Chen chuckled, the sound somehow both maternal and predatory. “I’ve heard that from dozens of youngwomen over the years. They all say the same thing when they arrive. But you’d be surprised how quickly perspectives can change when you’re finally getting what you truly need.”
She turned to Nurse Simmons. “Her husband’s preferences should already be uploaded to the system. I suspect he’ll be quite thorough—he struck me as the type who takes his responsibilities seriously once he understands them.”
My stomach dropped.Ryan’s preferences. What had he agreed to? What had he authorized them to do to me?
“Excellent,” Nurse Simmons replied, making a note on her tablet. “Dr. Hamelin will be grateful for the free rein.”
Free rein.My heart started to race. What didfree reinmean, here?
Mrs. Chen tapped something on her handheld, then looked up at me. “Remember, Heather,” she said, fixing me with those calculating eyes one last time, “resistance only makes the process more difficult. The sooner you accept what you are, the sooner you can begin to make progress.”
With that, she was gone, clicking away down the hallway in her sensible heels with Officer Martinez walking beside her, leaving me alone with Nurse Simmons and the too-bright receptionist who was still typing away at her computer as if nothing unusual was happening.
“Shall we?” Nurse Simmons asked, gesturing toward a hallway that led deeper into the building.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My legs felt like they were made of lead, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to run, even though I knew there was nowhere to go.
“I understand this is overwhelming,” Nurse Simmons said, her voice gentler now. “But I promise you, fighting it will only make it harder on yourself. We’re here to help you, Heather. To help you become the woman your husband needs you to be.”
“What if I don’t want to be that woman?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
“Then we’ll help you understand why you do,” she replied, and there was something in her tone that made my blood run cold. “Come along now. Dr. Hamelin is waiting.”
I followed Nurse Simmons down the hallway with hesitant steps, my bare feet silent against the cold linoleum. I was no longer restrained, and Officer Martinez had left, but even if I hadn’t been naked and defenseless I would have understood that escape wasn’t an option.
The room Nurse Simmons led me to looked like something from a normal doctor’s office, complete with an examination table covered in white paper and the familiar smell of antiseptic. But there were differences that made my pulse quicken—what looked like restraints built into the table, cabinets that looked like they contained more than just medical supplies, and cameras mounted in every corner.
“Please have a seat on the examination table,” Nurse Simmons said, patting the white paper covering. “Dr. Hamelin will be with you shortly.”
I hesitated, my arms crossed over my breasts in a futile attempt at modesty. The paper crinkled as I climbed onto the table, and I tried to position myself to hide as much as possible, but there was no dignity to be found in my nakedness.
Nurse Simmons busied herself with something at a computer terminal, her fingers clicking across the keyboard with practiced efficiency. “I’m just reviewing your husband’s preferences now,” she said conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather rather than my impending humiliation.
“What did he say?” I asked, hating how desperate I sounded. “What did Ryan agree to?”
She glanced up from the screen, her expression unreadable. “Your husband agreed to everything, Heather.” She turned back to the computer.
Everything.I swallowed so hard I could hear the gulp.
Before I could work up the courage to ask what that meant, the door opened and a man in a white coat entered. He was younger than I’d expected, maybe mid-thirties, with sharp features and calculating dark eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His blond hair was perfectly styled, and everything about him radiated the kind of clinical authority that made my stomach clench.
“Good afternoon, Heather,” he said, his voice smooth and professional. “I’m Dr. Hamelin. I’ll be overseeing your intake examination and some of your training program.”
Training program. There was that phrase again. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself smaller. “I don’t want to be trained. I want to go home.”
Dr. Hamelin exchanged a look with Nurse Simmons. “I’m sure you do,” he said, moving to wash his hands at a small sink. “But what you want and what you need are often very different things, aren’t they?”
He turned back to me, drying his hands with methodical precision. “I’ve reviewed your case file, Heather. Your history, your marriage, the incident that brought you here. I’ve also reviewed the monitoring data from your home.” His eyes met mine directly. “I know exactly what kind of woman you are, even if you’re not ready to admit it to yourself.”
My face burned with shame. The shower recordings. The fantasies I’d thought were private. “Those were just… I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean to reveal your true nature?” Dr. Hamelin moved closer, and I could smell his cologne, something expensive and masculine that made my traitorous body responddespite my fear. “You didn’t mean to show us how desperately you need to be controlled and enjoyed?”
“No,” I whispered.
