Page 17 of Stolen

“Good morning to you, too,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked sternly, challenging me.

“Nothing,” I grunted as I forced my body to crawl out of the cage. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I moved, but it was nothing compared to the torment raging all over my back. The hushed gasping and whispers as I crawled out of the cage confirmed nothing less. I imagined I probably looked like I’d been in a wreck.

“On your feet, slave, now,” the guard ordered. I placed my hands against the cage and attempted to pull myself up. I was so sore and stiff I didn’t think I could walk another step as the deep pain aching between my legs threatened to spring tears. “Let’s go.” The guard grabbed my arm and dragged me along at his side, not even bothering to cuff me. They were either testing me or felt I would be too weak to fight after yesterday’s beat fest. I was also way too fucking exhausted to bother.

“Where are we going?” I grumbled my question.

My temporarily diminished reflexes weren’t able to stop the backhand that came across my mouth. I was so damn weak from yesterday I actually stumbled against the wall from the impact. The pain stung the side of my cheek as I felt it begin to heat and swell.

“I don’t recall asking you a question, slave,” he said, glaring at me. Biting back my tongue, I lowered my eyes to the floor and let him lead me back to the elevator and up to the third floor. My heart nearly skipped a beat as he pushed the button, but thankfully, we turned right instead of left when we exited. I assumed he was taking me back to the doctor’s office for the exam I decided to skip out on yesterday.

Sure enough, as the guard opened the door, there was the doctor, gloved up and ready to go. Whatever fear he had yesterday was replaced with warning when he looked me over. He had a tray of medical instruments next to him, one of them being a syringe filled with a yellow-tinged liquid.

“Hello, again,” he said cheerfully, eyeing me up and down.

I gave him a blank hard look.

“Judging by your physical state,” he said, resting his hand on the syringe, “I shouldn’t need to use this.” He looked my way, an eyebrow raised as if he was asking me a question.

I slowly shook my head. I just wanted to get this over with.

“Good. Lie back on the table, please, knees up, and try to relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I did as he asked, slowly climbing on the table as my muscles and joints ached to support my weight. Lying down, I winced as my back seared in pain when my bare skin encountered the cold padding. I raised my knees, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out, relaxing as best I could.

“I’m going to begin the exam now. Spread your knees a little for me, please.” I sniffed back my protest and slowly parted my knees, giving him access to my most private area. The flesh there was incredibly tender as he completed a routine pelvic exam.

“You’re a little swollen with some slight bruising, but you should be fine,” he claimed when he was finished. “Other than that, everything looks normal.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

“If you could sit up now, please,” he asked. I let my knees fall over the edge of the table and forced myself to sit up, agony accompanying my every move.

The guard sat in the corner, smiling at my obvious discomfort. The doctor came back over and checked my heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, and drew some blood. He then examined my chest and back. The giant shoe-sized bruise was embarrassingly obvious. Lightly pressing my skin, I tried to hold back my pathetic little whimpers, but it was tough with him touching me.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“Probably an eight,” I replied. If the number was too low on the spectrum, I feared they might bring me back in for a second dose of pain. I was honest with my answer, though, hoping it was sufficient.

“Can she have painkillers?” the doctor asked the guard.

“Fuck that. If she ain’t broken, then she don’t need ’em,” the guard said, raising from his seat.

“Then I guess we’re done here. She’s severely dehydrated and needs some food in her system. Other than that, she should be fine but bring her back in two days for a final checkup. I should have the test results by then.”

“Thanks, Sid,” the guard said, reaching for me and pulling me from the table.

“I believe you earned this?” the doctor said, holding out the little black strapless “dress” that was supposed to be promised to me for good behavior.

“Thank you.” My voice rasped as I quickly threw the dress on, finally covering my body from exposure. Even though it was barely long enough to cover my ass, I had never been more thankful for an item of clothing in all my life.

“Let’s go,” the guard said, pulling me along by the arm.

As we headed back down the hall, it occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten or drank anything for almost two days, and my stomach grumbled violently at the realization. Not like my stomach would be able to handle much of it anyway, but I would do just about anything for a glass of water. I didn’t dare ask for one, though.

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