“Yes, Sara,” he said. “You are. You’re not going tobethe president, but it’s important that your world sees you living in the president’s house, like the president.”
He stopped me right in front of the doors, so that Lieutenant Withers could open them, revealing the enormous, gorgeous bedroom beyond.
“Why?” I asked in a whisper, to distract myself from the sight of the gynecological exam chair they had brought into the room, next to which stood a man in a white coat.
“Because you’re the symbol of your world’s submission, Sara,” Major Harrow told me. “Now go ahead and climb up on the chair for your exam.”
CHAPTER9
Sara
I hesitated, looking at the doctor, a clean-shaven older man who seemed perfectly ordinary at first glance.
“Hello, Sara,” he said. “I’m Doctor Greenway. Come on in, please. I’m afraid you’re going to find this examination rather unpleasant, and the procedure you’re going to undergo… unwelcome, at least at first.”
My eyes opened wide and my jaw slackened. Without intending it, I tried to draw back a step and found myself held in place by Major Harrow’s hand on my backside. Wildly, I turned to look at him, and saw him frown, as if he hadn’t anticipated the doctor putting the matter so plainly.
“Go ahead, Sara,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”
I shook my head, my eyes going from the officer to the doctor. “What?” I demanded. “What… procedure?”
Major Harrow looked over at Lieutenant Withers.
“You can go, Lieutenant, I think,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”
The subordinate officer chuckled. “I’m sure you can, Major. Good luck with her. Nice way to stick me with the paperwork.”
“You would have done the paperwork anyway, Lieutenant,” Major Harrow said, chuckling a little himself.
I wanted to scream. These two officers, bantering over my head while the horrible, completely ordinary seeming doctor waited to do something terrible to me, sent waves of fear and humiliation coursing through my body. Unthinking and desperate, I turned away from Major Harrow toward Lieutenant Withers.
I think I hoped the younger officer, despite his already having proven himself just as likely to impose his will by force as his superior was, might have pity on me. When I saw him simply raise his eyebrows in mocking surprise, I lost control and my flight reflex took over. I managed to surprise the major and twist out of his grasp, attempting to dart past the lieutenant and to the door of the presidential apartment. Not a shred of logic governed the action: the certainty in the back of my mind that I didn’t stand the slightest chance of making it further than the corridor—and to what purpose? my entire planet had just surrendered to these assholes!—didn’t stop me.
Lieutenant Withers stopped me, though, of course. He grabbed me around the waist, and the touch of his hands on my naked skin recalled instantly to my mind the feeling of his bending me over the arm of my couch. I gave a sob, and fight or flight came together in my nervous system: I burst into hysterical tears and flailed around like a wildcat, trying to punch and kick as hard as I could with my remaining strength.
“Sara,” I heard Major Harrow say from outside the red haze that seemed to have descended on my senses as I writhed desperately in the lieutenant’s arms, “you’ll be punished soundly for this misbehavior. Withers, bring her over here and help me get her strapped down to the exam chair. Doctor, I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you,” I sobbed, at the patronizing tone of his voice, the way he actually had just taken responsibility for my failure to obey him.
“Language, Sara,” he said sharply. My only response, the only thing my heart and mind could do, came in the form of a wrenching sob as Lieutenant Withers carried me, still struggling but only feebly, into the beautiful state bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Major,” the doctor said. “I probably should have saved the bad news for when we had already restrained her.”
I closed my eyes, another sob rising from my chest. I whispered my next willful words, as if maybe I could escape their consequences if I uttered them softly.
“Fuck you all, you fucking assholes.”
Major Harrow sighed. The sound of that sigh made my eyes go wide open to see him there, right in front of me, a stern but patient look on his face that sent more fear through me than an angry look would have.
“Lieutenant, put her in the diaper position for a lesson, please, before we put her in the restraints.”
“The what?” I gasped, so taken aback by the humiliating phrase that my body relaxed for a moment.
“You’ll see,” said Lieutenant Withers’ voice from behind and above me as he manhandled me closer to the doctor and the chair.
“No…” I begged, starting to understand and becoming again conscious, very suddenly, of my nudity. My instinctive, futile escape attempt had made me forget for a few moments my being a naked girl amidst three clothed men with the intention of putting my body to their degrading uses. The renewed feeling of exposure, of helplessness, of being at Major Harrow’s and the doctor’s command, made my heart quail. It also brought into my thoughts a possible interpretation ofthe diaper positionthat made me sob, again, “No… please…”
I swallowed hard. Lieutenant Withers had me almost to the horrid exam chair. I thought for an instant of the friendly office of my real doctor, a kindly older woman who asked kind questions about my life that always made me feel better about my failure really to enjoy sex, and warmed up all her instruments thoroughly before they touched me. I looked into Major Harrow’s eyes, feeling my face twist into a mask of woe.