My heart is a tight ball of muscle that doesn’t have enough space to beat properly.
“It makes me sad to see you in such distress, and I don’t like it when you misbehave. I can’t let your disobedience go unpunished. You know that.”
I whimper. I don’t want to react, but the soft sound slips out.
I suck my pacifier harder and squeeze my eyes closed as Daddy stands, keeping me cradled to his chest. He opens the office door and steps out.
Confused, I don’t move as he seems to stride out the way we came. Next, we’re in the elevator. I recognize the sounds it makes. In moments, we’re exiting again, and Daddy is walking with purpose.
I’m surprised when he knocks on a door. Moments later, it opens, and a voice I know greets Daddy. “Lasim. Come on in.”
Shoot. It’s Yamal. The doctor. This can’t be good.
“Let’s go back to my exam room.”
I stiffen. What’s going to happen next?
I refuse to open my eyes, but I grow panicky when Daddy lowers me onto what I assume is an exam table. He silently removes my jammies and then my diaper.
It’s chilly in this room. I start shivering, mortified that the doctor is now seeing the leash my Daddy leaves tucked between my breasts and my pussy lips.
Daddy smiles as he removes it before rolling me to one side and holding me firmly, parting my butt cheeks.
Neither man has spoken since we entered this room. The only sound is my whining when Yamal pushes a thermometer into my bottom. They must have spoken on the phone and ganged up on me. This visit to the doctor is my punishment. I wonder what it will entail.
“You say she’s been despondent all morning?”
“Yes. She hasn’t eaten or had anything to drink. She’s been lying on her side, having a silent tantrum.”
I bite down on my pacifier guard. I hate that they’re discussing me as though I’m not present. I also hate how accurate Daddy is. I’m definitely having a tantrum.
When the thermometer is removed, someone pushes a lubed finger deep in my bottom without warning.
I cry out around the pacifier, but Daddy has a firm grip on my hip. I can’t escape whatever they are doing to me. And I quickly realize they’ve put medicine inside me that makes me go limp. It might be the same thing Daddy gave me the first several days I was in his apartment.
On second thoughts, this one is different. I’m not falling asleep, but I can’t control my body either. I’m limp as Daddy rolls me onto my back. My heart races as I finally look at him. I’ve stopped sucking. I don’t think I can. I can’t even push the pacifier out of my mouth.
Inside, I’m panicking, but even that eases. The drug is forcing me to calm down. Darn them both.
Daddy removes my pacifier, but my mouth is loose. I’m drooling. I can swallow and breathe, but I don’t have any other reflexes. I can’t lift my arms or legs.
It’s futile for them to strap me to the table, but they do it anyway, arms over my head, legs bent and spread wide.
Yamal is between my thighs, and something touches my pussy.
Daddy pats my head and looks in my eyes. “It’s a catheter, Little pet. Yamal is going to put it inside your pee-pee hole so your urine can drain out.”
I’m surprised I haven’t peed myself. My bladder control has gone. They know this. It’s why the first thing the doctor does is insert a tube in me. I hate it. I want to tell them to stop. Instead, I drool.
“There. I bet it feels good to have your bladder drained.” He continues petting me.
The doctor moves behind me. “Tip her head back and hold it steady.”
Daddy grips my cheeks and guides my head so that my neck is elongated.
Yamal is holding another tube. What is he going to do with it?
I watch in horror as he lines it up with one of my nostrils and eases it into my nose. I should be in the biggest panic of my life, but the stupid medicine they put in my bottom is not permitting me to freak out. Mentally, I know this is so very terrifying, but my brain isn’t sending that message to the rest of my body; it would cause me to have a heart attack or something worse.