Papi sets a hand on my torso, his enormous palm over my belly, his fingers stroking the undersides of my breasts.
I whimper, my nipples stiffening further while these men discuss me. I squeeze my thighs together. I’m stunned and embarrassed to be aroused under these circumstances. Papi’s touch does something to me. It’s like he’s unlocked something I didn’t know was buried inside me. My body calls to him.
Papi shifts his gaze to mine and inhales slowly. “Her pheromones are very strong,” he murmurs. “I don’t like to see her suffering.”
I frown, but I’m squirming, confused and somewhat delirious while also aroused. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ve dreamed this entire day.
Surgient sets his palm on my forehead and sighs. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Never been more certain of anything in my life.”
Surgient nods and steps back. “Calm her and then let’s get her temperature.”
Papi keeps the one hand on my torso while using his other hand to lift my fingers to his lips. He holds my gaze while he kisses the tips of my fingers, and I hold my breath when he holds my hand tighter.
I don’t blink as he flicks his tongue over my pointer and then draws it slightly into his mouth. I flinch when a sudden prick takes me by surprise as if he inserted a needle into the pad of my finger.
Papi immediately soothes the hurt with his tongue, never releasing my gaze. When he switches to my middle finger, I try to pull away, but he holds my hand tight and repeats the slight sucking before definitely pricking me again.
“Ouch,” I murmur.
He kisses the tips one last time and lowers my hand. “You’ll start to feel more relaxed in a moment, Little one. I’m going to roll you onto your side for a few minutes so we can take your temperature and get your vitals.
I frown. His words make no sense. I’m slow to follow as he gently helps me roll away from him onto my left side. When he guides my top leg up, bending it and pushing it closer to my chest, I fight him. “Papi…”
“Shh. Be a good girl for me, Little one.” His hand is so huge he’s able to hold my hip steady and keep my thigh bent up with very little effort.
My pussy is open and exposed. My butt is too.
The sound of something popping open makes my flinch. Moments later, Papi pulls my butt cheeks open, and a finger touches my tight rosebud.
It suddenly dawns on me. They’re going to take my temperature rectally. As if I’m a baby. I’m a nurse, and I very rarely take a patient’s temperature rectally. Only in extreme instances. It’s certainly not standard.
Before I can protest, the finger presses into my forbidden hole.
“No.” I whimper. “Please, Papi. I don’t like it.”
He holds me firmly though as he removes his finger and replaces it with something hard and cold. It’s wide and metallic, and it goes in so deep I think it might perforate my colon. “Papi, no,” I protest further.
He strokes the back of my thigh with his thumb. “Take a deep breath, Little one. The probe needs to stay in you for a few minutes to collect data.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and hold my breath. I’m beyond mortified. Nothing’s ever been inside my rear before. I hate it.
Except it doesn’t hurt, and when Surgient eases it back a tiny bit before guiding it deeper, odd nerve endings I never knew I had come to life.
I know some women enjoy anal sex. I’ve heard stories. I’ve never let a man enter me there before. It always seems dirty and embarrassing. Here I am with two strangers from another planet letting them push a thick probe into my rectum.
Except I’m notlettingthem do anything. They’re much stronger and larger than me. I couldn’t fight them off if I tried.
Every time Surgient adjusts the probe, I think it goes deeper. My breath hitches. My cheeks feel warmer than they have with fever in the last few days. I purse my lips to keep from making a sound.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the rod slides out of me. I’m so relieved, I whimper.
“I’m going to examine your bottom while you’re in this position, Little one,” Papi announces. Before I can process his intentions, he pushes a finger up inside my bottom.
“Papi…” My protest is weak. I’m humiliated, but his finger feels oddly comforting. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want a man’s finger or any other body part inside my tight hole.
Papi ignores me, twisting his hand around so he can examine every inch of my tender rectum. “Can you grip my finger, Little one?”