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I don’t touch her, not until she’s finished. I grab her chin and force her to turn her head so I can check that she tightened it properly. I can still comfortably fit two fingers behind the leather strap, so I unbuckle it and tighten it by another notch. Lucia makes a distressed sound, but no actual words.
Much better.
I run my thumb over her stretched wide lips. “Speaking is a privilege,” I tell her, “and I’m not convinced you deserve it. I don’t care what Santino and Angelo let you get away with, but with me? You shut up and do as you’re told.”
She nods unhappily, and that’s the meekest she’s been all day.
I dip my fingers into her mouth and push down on her tongue. “I’ve cut out men’s tongues for daring to cross me, Lucia, so take this time to think very carefully about what exactly you want out of this arrangement.”
Lucia draws her shoulders together, but with her mouth forced open by the gag and my fingers pushing down on her tongue, she can’t do more than grunt.
I withdraw my fingers and step aside. “Continue your examination, doctor.”
Lazzaro almost drops the tourniquet he’s holding. “Yes, sir.” He cautiously approaches Lucia, as though she poses any danger to him, and wraps the tourniquet around her upper arm. Despite his nervousness, he goes through the proper procedure of checking and cleaning her arm.
Lucia looks away when Lazzaro inserts the needle into the flesh. I watch her expression closely, noting the small flinch of pain and the small whimper. It doesn’t seem like needles are a problem for her, which will make Santino happy. He can pierce her to his heart’s content if I decide to send an even more permanent message to her father.
After the blood is drawn and her arm bandaged, Lazzaro coughs and holds out a small cup to Lucia. “I need a urine sample too.”
She makes another noise and starts to shake her head, but our eyes meet, and she freezes. With a bit more defiance, she takes the cup out of Lazzaro’s hand and hops off the exam chair, walking toward the door we came from.
I grab her arm before she gets too far. “No.” I open the door to the connected bathroom and flip on the lights. “Use this toilet.”
There’s a slight hesitation before she corrects her course, but at least she obeys. I’m not naive enough to think she’s fully tamed, though, after just a few threats. She’s playing along for her own safety.
It’s all right. I can bide my time on this. I follow her into the small bathroom and prop myself against the door to keep it wide open. Lucia stares at me, and I can tell the instant she figures out that I intend to watch her: her skin mottles a deep red, shame beautifully broadcasted for all to see.
I wait, quietly watching, while she struggles with her pride. Finally, she sits down, and a feeling of triumph rushes through me. I can never get enough of men and women degrading themselves simply because I told them to. I’m tempted to push Lucia over the edge of the sink counter and take her like that.
Not yet. When I fuck Lucia, it will be because she begs me to.
It takes another few moments for her to place the cup between her legs and piss. The entire time, she’s got her eyes closed, but with the ring gag she can’t prevent the soft sounds escaping her lips. Not quite sobs, but getting there. I want to see her cry, not in pain, but in abject humiliation. I want her to despise me and desire me. I want her entire existence to center around me.
I pause at that thought. No, I want to break her and send the shattered remains back to her father. She isn’t a toy I’m keeping.
She rips the toilet paper with more violence than necessary and cleans herself up, then flushes. After washing her hands, she takes the sample to Lazzaro, avoiding looking at me the entire time.
Wouldn’t that be something, though, if even after I sent her back she was left craving us? Maybe I can adjust my plans a bit.
“The only thing left is a swab sample.” Lazzaro motions to the exam chair. “Please sit down, and we’ll put your legs in the stirrups.”
She clearly doesn’t like that idea either, but after giving a urine sample, being spread wide open in front of me and the doctor is apparently less of an ordeal for her. She spreads her legs and stares at the walls. I think she wants to check out of this whole experience.
That’s too bad for her. I won’t let her pretend none of this is happening.
I approach the exam chair and grab Lucia’s wrist. She startles and makes another garbled noise. Spit has dripped out of her mouth and down her chin, adding to her disheveled appearance. Santino might have the right idea, taking all those photos. I’ll get him to pull the security footage from this room later. The quality won’t be as good as the rest of his cameras, but that’ll only impress upon her father the reality of the situation.
I use one of the attached leather cuffs to strap her wrist in. She makes a distressed noise and pulls at it, then looks at me, a demand in her eyes. I ignore it and walk to the other side, grabbing her other wrist and repeating the process.
Meanwhile, Lazzaro straps her legs into the stirrups, so Lucia is trapped now. At most, she can lift her head and chest off the chair.
“Use a speculum,” I tell Lazzaro, watching Lucia’s face intently. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head imperceptibly, but I let it slide.
Lazzaro doesn’t need to be told twice. He opens the nearby drawer and takes out a speculum and a large jar of lube.
I move to stand behind Lazzaro as he lubes up the speculum and slides it inside Lucia. She whimpers and tenses, but there’s nothing she can do to stop this. Lazzaro widens the speculum a little, but he stops before it’s too wide.
“More,” I tell him. “She’s a slut. She can handle being opened further.”
