Lark

by Emma Cole

  “Who authorized the extras?” This from the tallest man that led the others in.

  One of the other guards watching us closely, answers him. “They interrupted our acquisition, so I decided to bring them here. They are young and attractive, maybe a little sport for us guards if you don't want them, too?” The man is seriously disgusting, and from his speech and accent, English isn't his first language. Licking his lips as he stares at me, tied and hunched over in the grip of another guard, his eyes are flat and emotionless. Other than the shark-like curve to his mouth at the suggestion of us being his prey, that is.

  My stomach churns as I pray to any god, demon, angel, or wannabe superhero that I won’t be given to him, and do my best to stop my trembling hands, so as not to look so breakable.

  “It causes me to adjust my plans, and I’m not happy to have to do that.” Without even looking at the man, he snaps his fingers and gestures behind him. Three others walk in, and now it’s getting very crowded in here. “Men, since you needed a new toy so badly, take this one here. Maybe this will remind you to follow my instructions in the future.”

  Immediately, the guard goes on the offensive, but he is encompassed by men that are all relatively his same size. He’s pissed, yet they overpower him easily. I can’t imagine he’s going to live long after they’re done with him.

  out, guards file out leaving the two newcomers and us prisoners. The man in charge looks from me to Rex.

  “Am I to understand that you explained things to these two?” His eyebrow is arched up with an expectant look as he waits.

  “As much as possible, yes. No details, just the gist of it.” Rex won’t meet my gaze when I look at him. Can’t say I blame him, as I badly want to hit him.

  Addressing all of us, he shares, “My name is Apollo Vitti. You may call me sir or master from here on out. I am not your law enforcement, as your men here should have explained, do not expect me to act in such a manner. It also would not do well for you to address me informally. I can direct things to a point. Anything catching attention will be dealt with immediately as I cannot have anyone suspect what is happening. I truly apologize that you were both pulled into this situation, but I cannot offer kindness from this point on without raising suspicion.” Turning to the other man, his dark eyes shutter. “Please take the new acquisitions to begin the intake process.” Turning on his heel he exits the room leaving us with his companion.

  As the one left comes closer, I see his eyes are gray. He looks kindly at me with a touch of sadness. How did someone with such empathy end up in his position here? He cuts our bindings, and Braeden instantly comes to wrap his arms around me, my back to his front. I lean back into him, smelling his spicy aftershave that he loves so much. That small normality makes me feel more grounded. The man glances at Brade's arms around me with a bit of surprise after glancing at Rex.

  “My name is Marcus. You can call me that in private, but make sure it’s ‘sir’ in front of others. It is safe to call everyone sir or madam. Only Apollo will be master. Do not call anyone else that, it will create problems you don’t want, I can assure you.” He opens the door and gestures for guards to come in. “I will be escorting you to the intake wing. Do not try anything, just follow. I do not wish to damage you.” This last is addressed to us as he walks out of the room.

  We're led down a corridor with track lighting and gray painted walls and floor, all concrete. I’m starting to think we're in some kind of underground compound. We hang a left as we come to a split, before continuing on. The hallway has doors every so often, and some of the rooms that stand open have medical equipment. Much like a hospital, there is an antiseptic smell. I don’t hear any sounds either, other than our footsteps and the rush of air through the ducts above us. I come to a sudden stop as a guard grabs my arm. Gripping Braeden’s hand tightly, I pull him with me, trying to dislodge myself from the guard.

  “This is your stop, girly, stop fighting me.” That’s not likely to happen. I refuse to be separated. Marcus comes around and grabs my arm that is holding Braeden's, while two other guards step in to grab his upper arms.

  “You all have a process to go through. This will happen one way or another.” This comes from Marcus, as the door behind him opens up. I see that it’s an examination room, and I turn my gaze on Rex. Anguish and hate war for dominance in me, and I see him visibly flinch. This is his fault, and he knows it. Emmett looks pissed when I glance at him, and Braeden is sad and trembling with the need to struggle. I lift my chin and give him my best determined look. Let them get out of sight so I don’t have to worry about them getting injured on my behalf, then I’m kicking the first person to touch me.

  I turn to step into the room with my escorts as Marcus leads the others away. Upon entering, I take note of the exam room table and supplies. The door is shut, and two guards remain with me. The room is large and has another door at the other side that opens as I pull myself to a halt. I’m not moving a step further without an explanation. Yet another man walks in, this one in a white lab coat with the usual stethoscope around his neck. How can a doctor work for a place like this? He doesn’t look malicious, but I don’t think I’m going to get too far with sympathy either. As if reading my thoughts, he speaks.

  “Don’t appeal to me to help you escape. I cannot help you. Please sit on the table.” I look from one male to the next until I've eyed each of them, making sure they aren’t trying any funny business. Sitting on the table doesn’t seem too harmful, so I comply. “First, I’m going to do a routine physical, and then I have questions for you. After those questions, we will conclude the second part of the physical.” Well, he’s certainly straightforward. “I’m going to start now, please remain still and follow my directions. I am Dr. Brent Martins. You may call me Dr. Brent or Dr. Martins. What is your name?”

  “Lark.”

  “Last name?”

  “Jones.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Idiot. He doesn’t remark on anything else.

  He goes through the usual, blood pressure, temperature, listening to my lungs and checking reflexes. I use the opportunity to scan him. He’s shorter than the other men, but seems fit. Dark blue eyes and light brown hair. A bit of a shadow of a beard, as if he hadn't shaved today, covers a square jaw. He’s not unattractive, yet his eyes are mostly blank, and his movements methodical. I get a little concerned when he has me lay back, but it’s just to palpate my stomach area, and I am directly sat back up. This is way too easy, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. He pulls out a blood draw kit from a drawer. I cross my arms mutinously.

  “I need to take some samples to test for any illnesses and evaluate your general health. Please hold out your arm.”

  “No. I’m done with this. You had your exam. You don’t need my blood.”

  “Lark, you are not in a spa or on vacation. I’m certain you are aware that this is now your life. Resign yourself quickly. All acquisitions are screened before training, and I will also be giving you regular checkups during your training or when you receive injury.” When I receive injury, not if. This man is dispassionate, as if he were commenting on the weather instead of commenting on my impending brokenness. I feel another surge of anger rush through me, followed by helplessness as my arm is grabbed by a guard while the other holds my body. They took me by surprise before I even thought to fight. I’m going to have to be more alert. This is the second time I was taken unaware.

  I kick out at the doctor and am forced down as an arm swings out from the exam table and straps appear. They quickly secure me with my arm out. Glaring at the doctor the entire time he takes my blood, I kick myself again for thinking the table looked safe enough to sit on. The table is sat up after at least six little vials are filled. That’s enough to make me lightheaded since I’m pretty sure it’s been almost a full day since I ate. I can’t be sure without knowing the time, but I’m definitely beyond hungry.

  The doctor must notice my situation and hands me a gl
ass of orange juice after releasing my arm. I desperately want it, but after everything else, I’m afraid it’s drugged. With exasperation, the doctor takes a drink, draining a quarter of the glass before offering it again. I guess that’s good enough. I warily take it, and though I want to drain it, I sip at it instead.

  “Do you see that your cooperation will be ensured one way or another? Now, time for the questions. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Have you ever been pregnant?”

  “That’s not your business.” Yeah, so not answering personal questions. Name, birthday, ect. They can get that from my purse since I’m sure they have it. The rest they can forget.

  “I need to know the answers to these questions. Your sexual health is going to be very important to you, very soon.” Again, with the ‘I couldn’t care less’ tone. What is wrong with this man?

  “Again, I’m not discussing it. Not your business.”

  “Let’s continue, then. We’ll come back to that. How many sexual partners have you had?”

  “Are you dense? I’m not answering your questions. It’s not your business.”

  He continues with his questions as I continue to refuse to answer. Have you had any STD’s, are you on birth control, do you take regular medications, have you had any injury or surgery to your pelvic area or reproductive organs. The latest, have you had anal sex or multiple partners at one time, makes me worry, yet I answer the same to it all.

  “Your refusal to answer isn’t going to help you, and as I see that you are going to be uncooperative, I will give you one chance to undress and put this gown on or the guards will strip you; that is how you will remain until my exam is finished.” Well, finally I get a reaction. Not a good one, but it’s something. I contemplate it. “If you agree to cooperate, I will have the guards stand in the hall for this portion. Your dignity will not remain intact forever, but for now, I can grant you this.” Maybe he’s not completely unfazed. Maybe I can work with this after all. The guards make noises as if to argue against it, but he just glares them into submission.

  “I’ll cooperate.” I say it quickly and hope I won’t regret this.

  “Very well, you two, wait outside unless I call. I have my call button in case I need assistance.” The guards grumpily leave the room, almost seeming disappointed. Disgusting fuckers.

  “I’m not leaving or turning my back on you, put the gown on.” He hands me the usual exam gown and begins putting tools on a tray next to the table. I can’t see what he has around the raised back of it. He’s not directly looking at me, so I tie the gown on over my clothes, then quickly shimmy out from under them while staying covered. When I turn back around, I see the doctor trying to suppress a smile. “I can’t say I’ve quite seen a patient change that way before.”

  “I’m not really a patient though, am I? More of a captive.” He nods his head, and I think I briefly see regret in his eyes before they blank again.

  “Please get up on the table.” He gives me the standard little square blanket that falsely gives a person a sense of being covered up. I scoot up on pad, little blue pad the table having been laid flat again. Out come the stirrups, and I put my stockinged feet in them. Yes, I left my socks on. It’s not exactly warm in here. “We’ll start at the top and work our way down.” Knowing the drill, I put my arms up, and he proceeds with the breast exam, asking questions here and there. Working his way down, he’s examining my lower abdomen right above my pubic line when he notices my curiosity. “Looking for c-section scars.”

  “No, I haven’t been pregnant as far as I know.” I don’t want to give anything up, but I also don’t want to be minutely examined either.

  “Feel like answering any more questions?” I snort, and that’s answer enough. Sighing, he moves between my legs. “Scoot down some, I’m sure you’ve done this before.” I comply and immediately feel gloved hands examining my pelvic area.

  "When did you decide to get your jollies off by becoming a doctor for a sex trafficking ring?" I'm watching him intently while I make my accusation. He doesn't disappoint when he pales and jerks his hands away. He recovers quickly, glaring at me and handling me a tad rougher than before with his inspection. He pulls my nether lips apart, examining them for what, I don't know. Maybe warts? I think that's a thing. When he manipulates my clit, I jump, cheeks burning in embarrassment. I want to put my legs together, and my knees start to drift closed.

  “Please keep them open.”

  I hear a click of a lid and then feel a cool wetness that makes me jump again. Fingers enter me, and the doctor proceeds with the internal portion of the pelvic exam. I’m used to women with smaller hands. This man's hands aren’t small, and he’s feeling out every nook and cranny. His fingers push in, reaching as his other hand presses down on the outside. I grimace and make a sound of pain. He immediately looks up at me and does it again. “Does that hurt when I push?”

  “No shit, asshole,” I yell at him, bringing my knees come together instantly.

  “Does it normally hurt when you get a pelvic exam?” To avoid any more of the pushing, I share enough to satisfy him.

  “Yes and no. My gyno tells me I’m more sensitive than others, but that’s not totally uncommon. Mostly, I think it’s the size difference. Most men don’t go digging around and pushing on things with their bigger hands.” He looks surprised for a moment and also concerned. How many women has he examined like this?

  “I’m normally a general health physician, but I assure you I am fully trained. I was brought in for you as a special case. I apologize if I was too rough.” He looks angry, but I don’t get the feeling it’s directed at me. “I’ll try to be more careful as I proceed.”

  Knowing I'm not getting out of it, I relax my legs out again and feel the cold, odd shape of the speculum enter me. After getting it situated, he clicks it open and starts the scraping. Again, I tense and hiss at the sting. I hate these exams, they always hurt. I see the doctor shake his head. He removes everything, considerately cleaning me up. “I apologize in advance.” I feel a cold liquid at my anus and tense. “Have you ever been penetrated anally?” Of course now I have to answer. Maybe he won’t if I haven’t.

  “No.”

  “I’ll be as careful as I can.” Before I can protest, he slides a gloved finger in. I’m so shocked at first that I don’t move. After that, I recognize the pain with it and am afraid to move. Carefully, he feels around and then slips out, stripping his gloves. I’m embarrassed, pissed, and hurt, and feel tears prick at the violation.

  The doctor puts my knees together and asks again when my last period was and if I’m on birth control. “I’m giving you a birth control shot regardless of your answer, so you may as well tell me. Some medications don't mix, and you don't want to be ill here. There is no option of an ER visit.” That fact alone scares me into answering.

  “I’m already on the Depo, and I’m due in a week, I think. I’m not sure what time or day it is.” He doesn’t bother to answer, just swabs my arm and gives me the injection, before checking the silver watch on his wrist.

  “Again, I am truly sorry. I don’t believe you will fare well here, and I will be seeing you again. I have to go examine the others. Please get dressed, and I will have the guards escort you to get some food.”

  Won’t fare well here? Is he fucking kidding me? And if others do fare well, what kind of people are they? How bad is this about to get?

  I quickly get up from the table, not wanting to give the guards a chance to come in here while I’m mostly nude. Grabbing a few tissues, I clean myself up, noticing a pink tinge on the contrasting white. I freaking hate gynecological exams for this reason. Always so sensitive and then I’m sore for the rest of the day. Not to mention the ass stuck his finger in mine, and now that’s not feeling so hot either. Not that I’m a prude, but Rex had never pushed it that far, and he was the majority of my good experiences with sex. I get dressed, cracking the door to let the guards know I’m ready and step out in
between them, following the first one down the hall with the other bringing up the rear.

  Rex

  I knew I was going to be asked questions and get an exam. Emmett and I were both briefed on what would be done, but damn, the doc really had to go there. I’m not amused by my squishy ass or the hard on I got from that bastard thoroughly checking my prostate. Not to mention the questions that were asked, about myself— and Lark too. I can only imagine what Lark went through, as it was a good forty-five minutes of waiting before the doc came in. When I asked the doctor about Lark, he said she was fine and done. I wanted to punch the man for touching her, even in a medical capacity. I also couldn't help but be amused that she'd given him shit. I just hoped her smart mouth hadn't gotten her into trouble.

  I have to figure out a way to keep us all together because I don’t think I can keep my cool and not blow our cover if she gets passed around, and that would end in us all being killed. I tip my head in my hands and listen to the others in the curtained off exam areas, answering their questions and receiving their inspections. This doctor was specifically brought in by Apollo just for Emmett and me. Now he gets two more patients to care for. Some of the answers I’m hearing make me raise my brows— Emmett is a bit of a freak; I figured Braeden would be, but damn on my partner. Guess he’s more than qualified for this assignment. On the one hand, I’m glad Lark got a private room and wasn’t being subjected to this, but on the other, I’m worried about where she is right now. As the doc finishes up with the others, I get dressed and wait to find out what’s happening next.

  Chapter Four

  Dictator Marcus

  Lark

  I'm led into a mess hall of sorts; one end is a cafeteria and the other a shopping/laundry area. The first guard explains that the little free time we will receive will be in here to eat, get toiletries, or to do laundry. We're expected to clean up after ourselves, and this is considered a freedom that’s earned. Any infractions will result in confinement and punishment. I can imagine how that will go, but is it really any different than what’s already happening?