Betrayed (Hidden Worlds Book 1) Read online

"Jen." There seemed no point in lying.

  "Have ye ever had a child, Jen?"

  "No!" My voice went high with outrage. I was only twenty-four.

  He nodded. "We'll soon see." He jerked his head towards the Head Matron, who reached to unfasten the neck opening of the tunic. Horrified, I snatched up and grabbed her hands. "NO! What are you doing to me? You can't touch me!"

  The doctor threw up his hands. "Cuff her out." His voice was resigned. "I've no time for this."

  With a grip like steel, the Head Matron drew one of my wrists down to a soft leather band I had not noticed on the side of the table and buckled me in, while the doctor on the other side buckled the other wrist. Then, the horrors not stopping, ignoring my shrieks, I saw the Head Matron approach the lower end of the table with a long bar she'd gotten from somewhere, over two feet wide, with a leather band on either end. With another cruel grip, she and the doctor dragged my ankles apart and buckled me into those cuffs, and then, abruptly, my widespread legs were jerked high by the physician's hand squarely on the center of the bar, until my knees were totally straight. Then, the bar was clipped to the two ropes that dangled from the ceiling. My bottom was almost lifted off the table.

  Barely fifteen seconds had passed, and I was suddenly completely helpless, forced into a position that was exposing and uncomfortable beyond anything I had ever imagined. The bar between my legs held my ankles incredibly widely, and the ropes held my legs up in a tight, obscene "V." In fact, the ropes were devised so that my feet were not actually straight above my bottom, but pulled back slightly, towards my head. The position was unbelievably humiliating. I tried to struggle by pulling my body up at the waist, using my legs for leverage, but that last motion was quickly denied me as the Head Matron reached down and brought a sturdy wide strap up from either side of the table and buckled it around my waist. I was held motionless and drew breath to scream.

  Brutally, her eyes as hard as ice, the Head Matron clapped her hand over my mouth. "I'm not interested in any of your noise. One peep and I'll be leathering you wide open. Doc can check a hot bottom just as soon as a white one. Are you understanding me? I've never seen so much of a ta-do over a little check-up as I'm seeing from the two of you. No one is wishing to hurt you, it's your own fussing that's making it go so hard. Now, are you understanding me?" she repeated.

  Slowly, I nodded my head, panting, wondering whether they would let me up if I vomited. Someday, I vowed, I would kill them all, but I realized that further struggle now was pointless. I would just get myself hurt.

  I looked away, not meeting their eyes as the Matron unbuttoned the tunic, and drew the opening wide, baring my breasts. His fingers greasy with some substance, the doctor immediately grasped my nipples in an uncomfortable pinch and tugged them several times. A discomfort like a burning itch shot through my body. "Nice nipples," he commented. "But," he let go of the nipples and pushed one of my breasts aside to look at the skin on the outer edge, "no nursing marks." He sniffed. "She's never nursed."

  Not bothering to re-cover my breasts, he walked to the end of the table and pushed back the front of my split tunic, baring my lower belly. The brutal "V" that I was in had already opened me completely; my thighs ached. He was going to touch me there, between my legs, where I'd only allowed myself to be touched by invitation in the past. My stomach flipped with incredible sourness, but I was strapped so tightly, I could barely wiggle my buttocks at all. It was inevitable.

  Without warning, the Head Matron, who was still standing beside me, reached over my stomach, reached between my high, stretched legs, and pulled my plump outer lips just at the top of my sex up and apart so hard, so fully, that the skin stretched almost to the point of real pain. Then, also not saying a word, the doctor reached down between my spread lips and pushed the hood of my clitoris up with his wide thumb. In spite of my decision to remain quiet, I could not believe the touch and I squealed, but other than giving me a sour glance, neither of my torturers said anything; apparently, I was to be allowed small, involuntary noises. The doctor reached over to the tray the head Matron had brought out of the cabinet, uncovered it, and put his finger into a small porcelain bowl, then touched some cold substance to the exposed tip of my clitoris. Immediately, I felt a slight itchy burn.

  Ignoring my almost-useless attempts to wiggle my hips from his touch, still holding the delicate hood up with his thumb, he stroked my clitoris roughly, irritating the sensitive tissue. Then he rolled the whole small tip around in a quick, circular motion for several seconds. I felt a swelling, a fullness, and knew, that in spite of everything, my body was reacting to the touch. "Seems fine," he muttered. "Normal responses." He glanced up at the Head Matron. "Now let's really see what's what."

  Letting go of my outer lips, the Head Matron's fingers dipped slightly lower, to press apart the delicate inner lips surrounding my opening. She was not gentle here, either, and I could feel the tender skin being parted to its limit. I was completely open to the gaze… and the touch of the physician's fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers scoop into the same porcelain bowl he'd dipped into before, then disappear out of my sight; immediately I felt the cold touch of a huge dollop of the cream at the very opening of my body… and then I was gently, but very firmly penetrated, the physician's finger in-between the pressing fingers of the Head Matron.

  Almost before I could cry out, however, the inserted finger was withdrawn, then two fingers were dipped just into the opening, and he pulled me apart widely, to the point of discomfort. Between my legs, I could see him peering at me closely. "Well, not much doubt she's open like the other one but…" and he reached to the tray again. I'd not gotten a good look at it, as it had been covered with the towel until I'd been strapped down, but I saw him lift an instrument whose function I knew immediately. Smooth black and shiny, it was a long black cylinder, bluntly rounded at one end, flared at the other. I judged it to be about eight inches long. I had no doubt that he intended to penetrate me with it. "Hold her," the physician said as he held it up and rubbed it with cream. "She's not going to like this much."

  Incredibly, the Head Matron found a way to push me still farther apart, and then with no further warning the tip of the instrument found my opening and was pushed into me with a quick firmness. I felt stretched and full deep into my belly and I groaned against the sensation that was horribly uncomfortable. "Open," he stated flatly, and I knew, then, that he was referring to my sexual status. It was obviously their way of stating that I was no longer a virgin. I remembered what a premium some primitive societies had put on virginity, and I wondered what consequences this might have.

  I had had several lovers during my teen years, though after I'd joined Exploratory I'd had my compound dose upped so I'd not have to deal with the distraction of any interest in sexual matters. "But really very tight… hardly more than a child." He withdrew the instrument, then inserted two fingers fully. Dropping his hand to my belly, he poked and prodded for a full minute, the Head Matron pressing my labia apart the whole time. Finally, he withdrew his fingers. "She's never been pregnant." By the time he was done, I was sobbing with humiliation,

  The physician wiped his fingers on a towel then reached up and unbuckled my ankles from the bar spreading my legs while the Matron unbuckled the strap at my waist and the ones at my wrists. I went boneless with relief, thinking my ordeal done, but before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was drawn to my knees, and with deft rough hands, the Head Matron turned me to face away from the physician. Placing a small, firm pad of leather on the table, the head Matron grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me down and over the roll without warning. I attempted to rise, but my wrists were rebuckled into the cuffs and my legs, incredibly, were drawn down onto either side of the narrow table and strapped into still other cuffs. I was now helplessly spread apart, my belly over a pad of leather, my bottom up.

  With no preamble, I felt the physician flip up the back of the tunic, then his fingers, cold with cream, ran qu
ickly along the cleft between the spread cheeks, spreading the cold oil, then finding the dimpled hole. A finger paused, rubbing at the crinkled opening with a quick, circular motion, then dipped firmly into my anus, once, twice, thrice, each time a little deeper, then repeatedly. The pressure and discomfort made me gasp with horror, and in spite of the warning to be silent, I could not help begging. "Oh stop, please, stop. Why must you do this to me? Can't you just leave me alone?" I tried to wiggle my bottom away from the penetration, but I was strapped so tightly I barely managed to do more than wiggle a couple of inches from side to side. "Oh, it hurts, please, it hurts."

  The physician snorted as he continued to move his finger in and out of me. "Such a fuss about a little bottom exam. You'd think she'd never had a cleaning."

  The Head Matron's voice was surprisingly thoughtful. "Maybe she hasn't."

  The finger in my bottom stopped moving and I could tell the physician was looking at the Head Matron. "How's that possible?"

  I rolled my head to the side and I could see the Head Matron. She shrugged and shook her black-veiled head. "I'm not knowing. But I've been here ten years, and seen the little ones come in at sixteen. First night away from their mothers and they're scared as they can be. You've seen it too. But they take their first exams, their first cleanings, even their first bottom training without much fuss at all. How often do we have to use the cuffs? A couple times a month, and most of those for girls who are rebelling against a punishment cleaning. But these girls? In their twenties, and more struggle than we see in a year. I don't think either one's ever even been examined before."

  Throughout this whole discourse, the physician's finger had rested fully in my bottom, and I felt my anus burn and itch around it, but a tentative wiggle only caused him to push his finger in harder. "You may be right. But then, where did they come from?"

  The Head Matron moved her shoulder dismissively. "It's none o' my concern. This one was admitting she'd been held as a slave, but then would say naught more. I'll be letting Lord Rohan have the sorting of it."

  I could sense that their attention returned to me, then, and I wasn't anxious for it, for as unpleasant as it was to be discussed while someone's finger rested in your bottom, I had a feeling I would like what came next even less.

  The Head Matron bent over me; I could feel her smooth robe against my hip. "Hold her, now," said Doc Rono, and from the corner of my eye, I could see him lift something off the tray. It was a glass rod, about as thick around as my little finger, at least six inches long, with a black rubber bulb at the end of it about the size of a man's fist. The physician held it aloft, and I watched as he rubbed the cold, oily cream up and down the shaft. There could be no doubt what they intended to do with it; I felt my body tighten just at the thought, but there was no way I could get away.

  The Head Matron's hands dropped to my buttocks, and pushing me down, she spread my upthrust, already-divided cheeks even farther apart. "This is only a little oil, missy." She adjusted her grip on me, dipping what felt like two fingers of each hand into the crack between my buttocks right at my anus and held me open. I felt myself cringing and shivering as I realized how I must look to the physician. With my head and legs down, and the Matron's hands covering my bottom, he could see practically nothing of me but my offered anus and spradled-open femininity.

  The Matron's voice came again, hardly reassuring. "If you'd just relax, this won't hurt a bit."

  I felt the thin glass tip touch my anus, then slip in. It was cold, and hard, and felt quite a bit thicker than it had looked, though there was no real pain. He slid it in until I could feel the discomfort of a deep penetration, but before I could even adjust to this, I felt a quick, cold rush. Obviously, something had been actually squeezed into my bottom.

  Just as quickly, the glass tube was withdrawn, but before I could feel even a moment's relief at having my body free again, I felt a rounder, thicker tip probe just at the opening. I was so tightly strapped over the pad of leather beneath my belly that I could make no attempt to pull away from the touch. I'd never felt more vulnerable in my life; this caused the quick examination I'd experienced at Lord Rohan's hands to pale into insignificance. Slowly, surely, my anus was dilated by the blunt rod against my will, and I was entered fully by a thick, cold solidness that made me gasp and fight against the cuffs at my wrists and ankles. To counter my struggles, the Head Matron simply pressed my buttocks down and apart even harder.

  My body fell full, almost distended and still the pressure did not slack off; the physician was obviously still pushing. Then the pressure stopped, though I was still completely, horribly filled. "Well," he commented as he rocked the rod slightly, "she needs to learn to open. And she's very, very tight." I cringed at his words; surely being discussed like this was almost the worst aspect to this.

  Then with a quick, horrible tug, I was empty, leaving my body to feel strangely… loose. I thought my ordeal must be over then, that surely my tortures would stop, but as I turned my head to the side, I saw the physician put down the black shiny rod he'd just removed from me. I was shocked to see that it was hardly thicker around than a man's middle finger; it had felt much bigger. Without hesitation, he picked up another, somewhat larger. It was, I thought, the same one he'd probed my vagina with. "Let's just see how this goes…" he muttered, and again I felt the dreadful first cold touch. But this rod felt enormous, even as it was just spreading my anus, and for the first time, I found myself actually experiencing real pain instead of just pressure. I squealed, and I heard the physician mutter, "She needs to be taught to push out…" but then with a rush, it pushed through and in to me. I screamed with the horror of it, an incoherent plea.

  The rod felt huge; I felt huge around it; it was evil and disgusting. Slowly, it was pushed in and out of me for a few dreadfully uncomfortable seconds. I heard the Head Matron snort and murmur, "At least she's doing better than the other one," and from her words I knew that Christy had experienced this same humiliation

  Then it was gone; my anus grasped loosely, suddenly empty. I felt myself collapsing, my muscles powerless. With quick rough hands, the Head Matron unfastened the straps holding me, and first my cramped, stretched legs were released, then my arms. Awkwardly, I lifted myself off of the leather roll, and flipped myself around to a sitting position.

  The Head Matron was eying me sourly. "So what's to be done with the two of ye now?" She sighed. "Wait here." Doc Rono had already left; I was alone.

  Chapter 6

  My body was uncomfortable, and I found myself squirming. Whatever substance had been rubbed on my nipples and on my clitoris was still irritating the sensitive tissues. Reaching my finger down between my legs, I found the small tip tender and stiffly erect, slippery with the cream that had been used to lubricate me. I knew to touch myself there was disgusting, but I found myself fighting an overwhelming desire to try to rub the itchy burn away. By great force of will, I tore my hand up. Biting my lip in frustration, I squirmed on my bottom, not liking how I felt back there, either. I felt open, loose, a little tender, and even as I shifted, I could feel some of the oil that had been injected into my body seep out, causing the table under me to become slippery. I felt horribly abused, completely like a powerless victim.

  Emotion that I had been fighting with already-limited success suddenly crashed over me like a brutal ocean wave. I began shaking, uncontrollably, and my eyes welled with hot tears that I could do nothing to stop. I was part of a nightmare that simply would not cease unfolding. What was going to happen to us?

  Women on Earth had fought for centuries for the position of superiority that all now accepted was their right. Everyone knew the history: for millennia, more intelligent, more logical Woman had been subjugated by Man simply because of the male's greater physical strength. All the re-education programs and intellectual arguments of the twentieth and twenty-first had availed nothing until female scientists had discovered that without hormone control, all "correctness" education programs were worthless. T
estosterone made men aggressive; estrogen, because it encouraged female sexual desire, made women more inclined to tolerate, even seek, the aggression secretly. But once testosterone and estrogen control was accepted by men and women alike as an absolute social responsibility, in one generation, relations between the sexes had become the idyllic cooperation that feminist reformers had searched for since the eighteenth.

  But there was no hormone control on Gamma Rigel. There hadn't been on any of the planets until a century ago; now, since it had been discovered that one simple drug could suppress both estrogen and testosterone, on many planets small amounts of this compound were given to populations in the form of "health pills." It wasn't as effective in this form, of course, as it was in the Sub-Q devices all Earth residents had implanted, although it helped somewhat. But obviously, since Gamma Rigel had no on-site observers or techs at all, nothing like that had happened here, and Christy and I, stuck here as part of some dreadful experiment, could only wonder helplessly who had arranged it… and why, while being totally at the mercy of these monsters with their raging hormones. My mind ran in desperate circles, and I came back to my original question: What was going to happen to us?

  The door opened and the Head Matron re-entered the examination chamber, carrying some more white clothing draped over her arm. "Captain Jancy says we're to go on back to Rohan now… and I'm to be coming along." She snorted. "As if I've nothing better to do than mind some girls who need a solid skelping more than anything else." She looked me up and down frankly and nodded. "You best be hoping, Miss Jen, that he's not giving me leave to get the whole story out a' ye. I got a couple pounds in my pocket that says I'd have ye singing the truth in short shrift." She sniffed. "Rohan's too soft on the likes of ye. That boy…" The Head Matron stopped herself from whatever critical comment she'd been on the verge of making about Rohan, and looked back at me. "Now get yourself covered decent and were back to the manor." She tossed me the garment she held over her forearm.