This man is giving me no indication he means me any harm. He keeps me snuggled in the blanket as he walks down a hallway and through a door.
I wince when I see that we’re now in what looks like an exam room. It’s not too different from the medical bay on the space station. Several men in white join us. They aren’t angry like the guards.
The man cradling me is wearing a navy suit and a starched white shirt, which is open at the collar. I’ve seen pictures of men dressed similarly on Earth before its destruction. He’sbeing so careful about my head as he speaks to the men in white.
When I hear water running, I flinch and turn to see a tub filling. The thought of taking a bath after all the time I’ve been caged in this dress makes me moan softly, but I don’t know what this man has in mind. Will he leave me alone in here and let me bathe?
More words are exchanged, then the men in white leave the room, shutting the door behind them.
My apparent savior lowers me gently onto the exam table and begins unwrapping me.
I tremble, both from the exposure to the air and my nerves. What is his plan?
When he reaches for the hem of my dress and lifts it, I shove at his hands and shake my head.
He wraps a hand around one of my wrists and brings my fingers to his lips. I’m stunned. He kisses my knuckles and strokes his cheek with them. It’s soothing. My heart rate slows. But I still don’t want him to take my clothes off.
No man has ever seen me naked. No man has ever seen me, period. Not since I was a newborn. On the space station, we lived a modest existence. We were taught that exposing our private parts to others was inappropriate, so I’m panicking at the thought of someone undressing me.
My savior cups the top of my head with one hand while he holds my wrists against my stomach with the other. He’s smiling again as he speaks to me. I wish I could understand him, but maybe I don’t need to. The tone is all I need. It’s filled with promise.
I calm further at the rolling cadence of his voice, and I find myself letting him lift my arms above my head so he can pull my dress off.
Shivering, tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I’membarrassed beyond belief. My breasts are exposed, and my nipples are hard points from the cold air.
I stare at this kind man while he removes my diaper, trying not to think about my nudity. He has thick brown hair and tanned skin. His eyes are deep brown, and I find myself wanting to stare into them.
My own skin is extremely pale—partly from genetics and partly from living nearly my entire life in a space station with no exposure to the sun. I know my eyes are a pretty green because my friends have commented on them many times.
The man rolls me onto my side, away from him, removes the tie from the end of my braid, and unravels my hair next. As he runs his fingers through the strands to separate the sections, he murmurs at me in an even lower voice that makes my heart race.
Finally, he scoops my naked body off the table and carries me to the tub that’s still filling with water. When he squats next to the basin, he reaches in to feel the water before taking my hand and lowering it into the stream.
Instinctively, I jerk my fingers back. It’s too cold. I wiggle in his embrace, hoping he won’t put me in this frigid water.
He frowns and adjusts the knobs. When he holds my fingers under the stream again, he looks at me and lifts a brow.
I smile and nod. It feels much better. I’m so grateful he cares what I think. He’s not going to force me to sit in freezing water. My entire outlook on life has shifted with the addition of this man. So far, he has seemed kind. I wonder what his plans are for me.
Clutching his neck, I lean my head against his shoulder. I’m weak and still feel heavy. It’s been days since I was drugged, so my heaviness shouldn’t be from whatever they injected me with. But, it’s also possible I’m being drugged by the formula.
When the man is satisfied with the temperature of my bath,he grabs one of my feet and dips it into the water, lifting a questioning brow again.
I smile and nod.
He grins and lowers me slowly into the tub.
It feels heavenly. Warmth surrounds me. For the first time in days, I’m no longer shivering.
I immediately cover my breasts and clasp my legs together, but the man gently grips my chin and tips my head back. Frowning, he shakes his head before prying my wrists apart, forcing me to lower my hands.
He’s kneeling next to the tub, but he’s at least seven and a half feet tall, so his huge frame is leaning over me.
When he releases my wrists, I instinctively pull my hands back to my chest.
He shakes his head, frowns, and points toward a hook embedded in the tub near the top. There’s one on both sides.
The man holds up a pair of handcuffs next, shakes them in front of me, points toward the hook, and does that questioning eyebrow raise again.
