Ivy’s Point Of View
The thought of running away comes to my mind again. Would living on the streets be so bad compared to living with my parents? Somehow, I doubt it.
But I can’t get away now... so I have to continue.
A woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform comes out from behind a desk. "Ah, there you are!" she says, pursing her lips at me. "We’ve been waiting for nearly ten minutes."
"I-I’m sorry," I stammer. So much for everyone here being nice.
"Did you get lost, dear?" she asks, and when she says "dear" it does not sound like a term of endearment.
I nod. "Yes, sorry," I mutter.
She shakes her head at me. "It’s really not that difficult. Just down the hall from the king’s office."
"Yes, ma’am," I stutter.
She shakes her head at me. "Ivy Ashford?"
I nod again. It’s better than having to speak since my words have been failing me today.
"Very well. Go into examination room two, strip down, and put on a gown. Your doctor will be in shortly."
Again, I find my eyes fixated and my feet unable to move. I am staring at her like she’s just told me to cut my own head off with a butter knife.
"Well?" she demands. "Are you stupid or hard of hearing?" she asks, reaching out and grabbing my shoulder and giving me a shove.
On my wobbly heels, I am not prepared for this, and I careen forward, almost face-planting on the stone floor. Somehow, I manage to catch myself on the wall before I fall and knock my teeth out.
She grumbles. "May as well take that one off of the list." Then raising her voice she yells, "Go!"
I figure out how to get my feet untangled and moving again, making my way down the hallway. I can’t remember which room she said to go into, though, so I head for the first one and hope that’s right.
Forget what I said before about doing this for my pack! It’s terrible here, besides Chase and Grant, of course, but surely, they don’t have a big part in all this.
I have never been happy living at home with my parents. They are always so mean to me, and they make me feel like I can’t do anything right, but at this moment, more than anything in the world—I just want to leave here, even if it means I have to go back to them.
I’d even go back to the sewage treatment center if I had to.
I close the curtain and spy the gown on the table. With a deep breath, I reach around and unzip my dress.
The torment is just beginning.
I am naked, on a bed, and my legs are spread wide open. This is how I wait for the doctor. How attractive...
The lovely nurse from before has just left. She came into the examination room to check on me, saying that she wasn’t sure I could manage by myself since, clearly, I have rocks for brains, and when she arrived, she said that the doctor would be in in a moment, so I may as well go ahead and put my feet in the stirrups.
That was at least five minutes ago.
Thankfully, I have a sheet draped over my legs, and the gown I have on covers the top of me.
I stare up at a bright light, wondering if this might burn my corneas if I have to stay here much longer. That would be a great excuse to use to get sent away. Maybe then, I’ll have the opportunity to run away and strike out on my own.
I am imagining the doctor will be an eighty-year-old man with cold hands and the same attitude that the nurse had. That would be my luck.
Why is it that no one who works at the castle is nice?
Grant and Chase are nice... Chase was quiet, but not in a rude way. And Grant was overly friendly. I like them both, but they aren’t workers here, it seems. Perhaps in another life, we could be friends—or something.
I can’t help the physical reaction that happens inside of me when I think about either one of them. I start to feel myself becoming damper and damper between my spread thighs, and a tiny ache begins low beneath my belly.
Realizing I don’t want the doctor to catch me in such a state, I decide to think about something else—anything else. The last thing I need is for the doctor to realize something has me excited.
I envision myself back at the sewage treatment facility and how embarrassing it was the day that I threw up.
There, that does the trick. No matter what happens, I must keep my mind off of those two guys I bumped into until this examination is over so the doctor won’t see the evidence of my true feelings.
A few moments after I’ve steeled my resolve, I hear the curtain fly open. "Hello!" a friendly female voice says, and I look up to see a small woman, perhaps only about five feet tall, with dark hair pulled back in a bun and small spectacles balanced on the end of her nose.
She is wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard.
"Hi," I manage to get out of my dry mouth. Talking is not my strong suit today.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, dear. I’m Dr. Whitfield. How are you, honey?" She smiles down at me, standing near my head.
I don’t know how to answer that, so I finally give her the truth. "Terrified."
"Oh, dear," she says, patting my shoulder. "I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t easy. But I’ll try to have you out of here as quickly as possible, all right?"
I am beginning to think I have gone into the wrong examination room because she is awfully nice, and so far, I haven’t had the sort of luck that brings me nice people. Well, other than the two muscle men.
"Okay," I say, hoping she’s telling the truth so I can leave.
"Now, I just need to check a few things, dear, make sure you’re in good shape if the king decides to make you our lucky winner." She smiles at me like I am here for some sort of a contest and not as a favor to my entire pack. But then... I suppose most of the other girls would think of themselves as winners if they are chosen.
Not me. That would make me the biggest loser.
"All right. First I’m going to do a physical exam, and then I’ll use the ultrasound machine. I’ll have Nurse Elena come in to observe so you can feel comfortable that everything is fine, all right, dear?"
I nod, but if Nurse Elena was the mean lady I’d met before, I don’t want her in here.
Dr. Whitfield sticks her head out of the curtain and calls for Nurse Elena. A moment later, another older woman walks in. It isn’t the same nurse as before, thank the Moon Goddess.
"All right," the doctor says, and I focus my eyes on the ceiling, trying to put myself somewhere else as she goes about her physical examination.
It’s not as bad as I think it’s going to be. She basically just checks to see whether or not I am a virgin. Satisfied that I am, she moves on.
"Now, this ultrasound machine will just give us a good look at your reproductive organs," she says. "Sorry the gel is cold."
My gown is pulled up, but the sheet is still over my bottom portion, and she’s told me I can take my feet out of the stirrups, thank goodness.
She’s right—the gel is cold. She rubs it all over my stomach with a wand, and then the machine comes to life, and her eyes are glued on that as she moves the wand around.