If I split the acid between two people, there’s no promise it will blind both of them enough for me to kill them with an accessible makeshift weapon. But maybe, with some luck, I can do it.
The sink. The filing cabinet. No…the stool. I’ll probably have to use the stool to attack them. Will I have enough time to kill both of them?
Metal glints at the corner of my vision. The assistant hands Dr. Ambrose a vaginal speculum the size of a large forearm.
Every thought evaporates from my brain. My vision tunnels.
“That’s way too big!” I kick my feet, knocking straight into the assistant’s hand. The metal instrument clangs to the floor. I leer at Dr. Ambrose. “You are not putting that in me.”
I scramble off of the table and reach toward the floor. The vial is there. My hands frantically sweep the tile. Where is it? It has to be here!
Dr. Ambrose picks me up and shoves me down flat on the exam table.
“Steady the hips,” he says. The assistant seizes my shoulders and lies across me, using his body weight to keep me down. His lab coat scratches against my skin. Dr. Ambrose steps back and grabs the speculum off of the floor. “Keep her steady. We don’t want to damage her any further.”
“Fuck you!” I flail, but with the assistant lying on top of me, it’s impossible to do anything. “Fuck you both?—”
The metal pries my pussy apart, like a knife cutting my sides open. With a punch to the back of the device, Dr. Ambrose crams the metal inside me. Convulsions wreak havoc through my abdomen, my body instantly cramping.
I heave. He is literally prying me apart.
I breathe as slowly as I can and push the pain away. Follow the rules. Obey. Soon, I’ll?—
A metal gear churns; the speculum’s mouth widens with every twist of Dr. Ambrose’s fingers. Spasms charge through me.
He’s going to rip me in half.
As I mewl, the assistant looks over his shoulder between my thighs. Dr. Ambrose fixes the bolt into place, then leers at my pussy hole. My clit throbs. I’m so wide, I’m positive he can see my cervix.
Dr. Ambrose stretches my pussy even wider with the speculum. My clit pulsates; each throb travels to my head, making it so I can barely think. Why am I doing this?
I’m here for a reason, I think. I’m here because of him. He has to?—
“Quite elastic,” Dr. Ambrose says. “Don’t you agree, Oliver?”
“The muscles are strong,” the assistant says. “Potentially due to daily use.”
Dr. Ambrose chuckles. “It seems the body wants more. I’ll move on with the internal examination.”
How is this not the internal examination?
The speculum is yanked from me; the widest part dredges my pelvic bone, and a cry slashes through my throat. I writhe in agony; the assistant’s bodyweight keeps me in place.
My eyes water. Dr. Ambrose didn’t even close the speculum first.
Wetness spills from my pussy, and I shake my head. Even if I kick their tools, they won’t let me go.
I’m doing this for a reason, I repeat internally. I’m doing this for my mother. I’m doing this so I can kill Dr. Ambrose and end his torment. I don’t like this. I’m not doing this for me. I can’t?—
The assistant adjusts his position, using only his hands to keep me down. Then he twists his neck, as if to ogle my gaping pussy. I blush and look away.
Right then, Dr. Ambrose rams two fingers in me; his nails scrape my bruised tissue. Discomfort, pain, and pleasure ripple through me. I squirm as much as I can, but the assistant has a firm grip on my shoulders.
Dr. Ambrose uses his other hand to circle my clit, simultaneously fingering me and manipulating my bundle of nerves. Warmness waves through me; my hips push forward.
I see a glimpse of Dr. Ambrose’s fingers on my clit. His fingernails are filthy; he’s the last person I’d want to finger-fuck me, and yet my body itches and my pussy clenches his fingers like I want more. More of being forced. More of these sensations. More of everything.
“Not as tight as one would expect for a twenty-five-year-old,” Dr. Ambrose says as he adds a third finger. I wiggle. I’m sensitive all over. Dr. Ambrose addresses his assistant. “Your thoughts?”
