Chapter 4: Morgan

“I know you’re probably nervous,” the doctor said. “So, first of all, I want to assure you there won’t be any pain. We aren’t barbarians here.”

The doctor was petite with shoulder-length dark, curly hair and a figure that was almost completely hidden under her heavy, white coat. She gave Morgan what was likely intended as a friendly smile, and pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

Naked and immobilized on the hard, steel OBGYN table, Morgan was not reassured. She always hated putting her legs in the stirrups every time she went in for her yearly checkup. She was even more uncomfortable with having them cuffed there against her will by the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction.

The exam room was utterly institutional, with white walls and a light gray tile floor. The counter-tops were dark gray and the large cabinet in the corner was a dull, metallic gray. A black computer terminal sat on the counter, facing away from her. Other than her own naked body, there was no hint of color.

About fifteen minutes ago, a nurse had come in and carefully shaved her bald below the waist, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable. Something about the nurse’s blonde hair and face-shape reminded Morgan of Lorelei. That somehow made her horrifying predicament even more unpleasant.

Morgan was also given a lozenge which resembled a cough drop and tasted of peppermint. The nurse explained that it was a sedative that would calm her down for the procedure. She was told to roll it around in her mouth, letting it slowly dissolve, that it would be more effective if released slowly into her system over the course of a few minutes.

The sedative might have relaxed her a little bit, but even now the only words that came to mind were obscenities. Swearing at the doctor who was going to push a piece of sharp metal into her crotch seemed like a really bad idea. For once, she kept her mouth shut.

“Second thing,” the doctor continued, cheerfully holding up two fingers, “I want you to know I don’t work for the prison. I get my paycheck from Complementing You Incorporated, and it’s my job to keep you safe and healthy.”

Morgan had intended to stay quiet, but at that point she couldn’t help herself. “Complementing You? Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?”

“Oh, no, not at all. That’s what it says on the corporate charter, and on my paychecks. Too over the top, you think? I can put you in touch with our marketing department when we’re done here, they take all customer feedback very seriously.”

It was surprising how sincere the doctor sounded when she delivered that line. How exactly was Morgan supposed to respond to mockery while naked and restrained? She just glared.

The doctor seemed unfazed, she was still all smiles. “Anyway, don’t think of me like the guards and other prison staff. I know, they’re always mean and angry. They’re like that around me too, and I’m the doctor. I’m not one of them, I’m here to keep you healthy and happy.”

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble, doctor, but you’re not doing a very good job of making me happy.”

Morgan was trying to work out just what was going on with this doctor. Did she get off on messing with the inmates heads? Or was she talking this way because she was one of the bleeding-hearts, like Lorelei, who always needed to believe, to pretend if necessary, that they were doing the right thing?

“Where are my manners? I never introduced myself. I’m Doctor Angela Farrell. Everyone is so formal here, it’s just unpleasant if you ask me. Call me Angela or Doctor Angela if you must. By the way, do you prefer Morgan or Ms. Heller?”

“I’m not going to be happy either way,” Morgan replied, trying to keep the seething anger out of her voice.

“Hmm.” Angela said. “Do you know how many inmates in this prison developed UTIs last year? Zero. The same goes for a wide array of other infections and STDs. In case you didn’t realize, that’s unheard of in a women’s correctional facility. The Complement doesn’t just control your cycle, it protects your health. Imagine yourself with a bad infection and ask yourself: is that what I want?”

“I think I’d prefer to take my chances,” Morgan said.

“Oh Morgan,” Angela was still smiling but there was just a hint of disapproval in her tone. “Look where you ended up when you were making your own decisions. Now you’ll just have to listen to someone with better judgment.”

The doctor didn’t give Morgan a chance to respond. Instead, Angela turned quickly, and walked over to the cabinet. She pulled out a small vial, then returned to where Morgan was restrained.

“The first thing we’re going to do is numb you up down here,” she ran a gloved finger between Morgan’s legs. “Don’t worry, it’s just a topical anesthetic. It will take effect in five to ten minutes and then wear off within an hour.”

The doctor opened the vial and began to slowly spread the cool, thick liquid over Morgan’s most intimate region. It felt almost like lube, slippery and stimulating. The sensation was intense, far too intense to be pleasurable at first. There had been little warning, and the doctor moved immediately to Morgan’s clit, her thumb moving in small forceful circles.

The doctor moved lower, rubbing more of the fluid into her labia. After a few moments arousal stirred within her, the sensation becoming less overwhelming and more pleasurable. She was nowhere near climax, but her surprisingly rapid response to the doctor’s touch under these circumstances embarrassed her. It served as a testament to how sexually frustrated she’d been these last few weeks.

Morgan squirmed with pleasure as the doctor pushed her fingers inside her, spreading the fluid deep into her body. Her hips thrust upwards against the restraints in an attempt to get more friction with the doctor’s fingers.

“Oh, were you enjoying that?” Angela asked as she pulled her hand away. “You’re an eager one aren’t you?”

Morgan said nothing, embarrassed. She was terrified of what was coming next.

Angela walked back over to the cabinet and pulled out a plain, white cardboard box, about four inches on each side. She set the box down on the counter to Morgan’s left, next to a computer terminal. The doctor stared at the monitor for a moment, which faced away from Morgan. For the first time since Angela walked into the room, she frowned.

Angela pulled her mobile from a pocket of her coat and focused intently on it, jabbing and swiping with her fingers for half a minute before putting it away. She seemed confused rather than upset. “I need to check on something. I’ll be right back.”

The small box that sat on the counter seemed so plain, so unassuming, yet it filled Morgan with dread. She didn’t know for sure, but it seemed likely that ordinary-looking box held the Complement meant for her.

The doctor returned a few minutes later carrying another cardboard box, the same size as the first. Her confused expression had given way to one of surprise. The new box was silver, and where the white box was unmarked, Morgan’s last name was clearly printed in bold black letters on the silver one. The doctor picked up the white box and returned it to the cupboard.

“You and Derek Simon, are you two married?” The doctor asked. “Kept your maiden name, maybe?”

“What? No.” The question caught Morgan completely off guard.

“But you were living together for a while? Never got around to making it official?”

“Not really,” Morgan replied. This was, no doubt, the doctor’s way of reminding her how fragile her relationship was.

“Oh. Is he wealthy, then?” Angela persisted.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I’ve only seen this once before. The focus, that’s the metal part of the Complement,” The doctor explained. “The focus is usually made of ordinary surgical steel. However, our company offers an option, a very expensive option I might add, to embed a gemstone into the focus. The idea is that it adds a personalized touch. Derek Simon took advantage of this option, and, well, see for yourself.”

The doctor opened the silver box and removed a thin, transparent tube. Inside the tube was a metal needle, less than half the length of a sewing needle but twice as thick. One end was sharpened to a point, while the other flared outward. A brilliant blue stone was mounted on the larger, flared end. Morgan didn’t know anything about gems, but from the blue color she assumed it was a sapphire — a very large, very beautiful sapphire.

This was what they were going to force into her body. The stone was beautiful but the purpose of this thing was terrifying. No man had ever bought her a precious gem before, let alone one this large, and it was attached to an abomination. How had he afforded it on the salary of a delivery man? Why did he do it? Did this mean there was still a chance he cared enough to forgive her now, after he found the drive?

“You’re very fortunate, you know,” The doctor told her as she tried to gather her jumbled thoughts and make sense of her conflicting emotions. “If he cares that much about you, he might still be there when you get out. Realistically, most men lose interest after a few months. Over fifteen hundred women here, and they tell me about thirty or forty significant others show up for the conjugals each month. If he really cares that much, there’s a decent chance you’ll be in the lucky two percent.”

That didn’t sound right to Morgan. She didn’t want that to be right. How many men would regularly turn down guaranteed sex? The doctor was trying to mess with her head again. Of course, Derek was now infuriated with her and she should probably accept that he was gone for good, sapphire or no sapphire.

“Now, I said this earlier, but I want to say it again,” Angela said. “I see you as my patient. I want to explain what I’m doing every step of the way, so there are no surprises for you. Most of my patients are somewhat confused about the placement of the focus, and I want to clear that up now. You may have heard that the focus pierces your clitoris, which is both true and misleading at the same time.”

Angela gestured at a chart of female anatomy that hung the wall opposite Morgan, as she spoke. “What you think of as your clitoris is merely the external part, the glans. The focus does not pierce the glans, but enters behind it and attaches to the dorsal nerve of the clitoris. A common vertical clitoral hood piercing goes through the top of the hood and comes out underneath. The focus goes in at the same spot, but at a different angle, into your body. It does not come out the other side of the hood, but rather bonds to your internal tissue, securing it in place.”

“I also meant what I said about the procedure being painless,” Angela continued. “The focus looks like a piercing and connects to your nervous system, so it’s only natural to worry. I promise, you won’t even feel it when the focus goes in. We use special-purpose, extra-strength painkillers.”

Angela held up the vial with the bejeweled needle. “On top of the anesthetic I gave you earlier, the shaft of the focus is coated with both an antibiotic to prevent infection and an extremely powerful painkiller — all nerves immediately around it will go instantly numb as it goes in. After it binds to your nervous system the focus will be able to suppress any residual pain from the insertion entirely on it’s own. At no point will you experience any discomfort from the insertion, and after an hour the anesthetic will wear off and you’ll regain full sensation. Do you have any questions before I proceed?”

This was it. Morgan was practically hyperventilating. She wracked her brain to think of a question to prolong the inevitable, but in her panic couldn’t think of one. She shook her head.

Angela took the small tube containing the focus, and loaded it into a narrow, cylindrical device. It resembled a syringe made out of metal with a red button on the back instead of a plunger. “In order to keep the focus sterile, it’s important than I never touch it until it is all the way in. When I press the button here, this injector will implant the focus. Can you feel that?”

Morgan took her eyes off the injector, looked down to where the doctor was pinching her exposed sex. Angela looked to be pinching her quite hard, but she hadn’t noticed, couldn’t feel anything. The doctor nodded at her patient’s obvious surprise, didn’t wait for a reply. “Good, the anesthetic is working.”

Angela carefully placed the tip of the injector against Morgan’s vulnerable, exposed skin. The cold, metal barrel of the device was like a gun aimed at her clit. She struggled against her restraints, tried to wiggle her hips away from what Angela was preparing to do.

“Oh, stop being silly,” Angela said pulling the injector away, unused, as Morgan squirmed. “If this goes in the wrong spot, I have to quickly pull it out. Going in there’s no pain, but if I need to remove and reposition it, it’s really, really going to hurt. Let’s try this again, and this time hold still.”

The way Angela’s smile and cheerful demeanor never wavered was downright creepy. Nevertheless, Morgan took deep breaths and forced herself to remain still as the doctor repositioned the injector.

“I can tell you’re nervous, so this is what we’re going to do,” Angela said. She wrapped her right hand over the back of the injector while she held it in position with her left. All it would take was one minor squeeze of her right hand and that thing would be forced into Morgan’s body. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to press the button.”

Morgan nodded that she understood. It wasn’t as if she had a choice.

“One.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, this was really it. Oh fuck.

“Two.”

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...

“Three.” Angela immediately withdrew and set aside the injector. “All done. I pressed the button on one. See, I told you that you wouldn’t feel a thing.”

It was in. Holy motherfucking shit, it was in. They’d stuck that thing into her body. Angela held up a mirror, so Morgan could clearly see the blue stone glittering where it was embedded between her legs.

She didn’t feel any different.

“Next, I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to listen for just a moment.” Angela said. “I need you to repeat after me: The focus is not the Complement.”

“Go ahead, say it,” Angela said, after waiting for a few seconds without getting a response.

“I don’t know what that means,” Morgan said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain. First I want you to say it. I have a piece of chocolate here, and I’ll let you have it right now, if you repeat this phrase: The focus is not the Complement.” She pulled a square of chocolate with the distinctive cream, black and gold wrapping paper of one of the better known, high-end brands of chocolate.

A piece of chocolate, was she five? Wasn’t this supposed to be prison, not kindergarten? After six weeks of prison food, chocolate sounded great, but ... there was no way this bitch was going to make her perform on command. Fuck that.

“I don’t do tricks.” She would never have made a crack like that to one of the hard-ass muscle-bound guards, but Angela’s fake, friendly demeanor seemed to invite the insult.

It also seemed to bounce right off of her. “Oooh, no need to get testy,” Angela said, putting the chocolate away. “I just need to make sure you understand this. I’ll explain.”

Angela reached down and touched the thing embedded in Morgan’s body. “As I said earlier, this is called the focus. It is part of the Complement, but — and this is what I really want to get across to you — it is the least important part of the Complement. If I pulled this out of your body right now, well, it would really hurt. More importantly, though, you would still experience most of the benefits of the Complement even without the focus. The focus is not the Complement. Do you understand?”

“Uh, no. You mean, that metal thing can regrow somehow?”

“Interesting you would put it that way,” Angela said brightly. “No, the focus can’t regrow, but the really neat thing is that the rest of the Complement can.”

“The rest? What do you mean, the rest?” Morgan could no longer hold her temper in check. “You plan on sticking that injector up my ass?”

The doctor didn’t seem the least bit phased by her belligerence. “Oh no, we don’t need the injector for the anal portion of the Complement.”

Angela glanced at Morgan’s expression of alarm and giggled. “Don’t look so worried,” she said. “We already took care of it. Remember that lozenge the nurse gave you? We’ve found it does a good job of coating your digestive tract from top to bottom.” She gave Morgan’s ass a light pat. “The rest was in the fluid I used to numb you up. Didn’t you wonder why I was spreading that inside you, when the focus went in above your clit?”

“Now do you understand?” Angela asked. “The focus just allows us to communicate with the rest of the Complement, which is made of hundreds of millions of tiny little parts, spread out over your body. How else could we know what was going on in your stomach or your bottom? One little piercing can’t do that. If the focus is gone, the Complement will keep on doing whatever it was doing before the focus was removed. The focus is not the Complement. Say it with me now?”

“The focus is not the Complement,” Morgan said.

“Wonderful,” the doctor beamed. “I really wanted to take time to stress this, because we’ve had some unpleasantness. There have been ... incidents. Some of my patients try to cut out the focus with one sharp object or another. Not only is that going to put you at risk of infection from some genuinely nasty bacteria, it won’t actually remove the Complement, because the focus is not the Complement. So, one more time, okay? Say it for me?”

“The focus is not the Complement,” Morgan chanted a second time, this time more attentive.

Earlier, the doctor mentioned that the focus could be repositioned, albeit with a certain amount of pain. Morgan had immediately started trying to think of ways she might pull it out before it became permanently attached to her. Evidently that wouldn’t work, because the metal piercing was practically irrelevant. Fuck.

“Oh, and one last thing worth mentioning,” The doctor said. “When you are with your partner, the focus is needed as part of the process that triggers a climax. Without the focus, the Complement will fail to trigger, though absolutely everything else will to continue to function normally.”

Double-fuck.

“Now, third time’s the charm. Let’s hear it.”

“The focus is not the Complement.” Morgan repeated again.

“As promised,” Angela said as she took the square of chocolate out of her pocket again.

Morgan couldn’t reach out and take the candy with her arms cuffed to the table. Angela walked behind Morgan, next to her head. The doctor held up the wrapped piece of premium chocolate. It was labeled as “Arabica Blast — Crushed coffee beans mixed with dark, refined chocolate.”

Angela flicked the seal on the chocolate wrapper. “After the lozenge, some of my patients don’t trust anything I offer. See? This is factory sealed. Nothing in here but what it says on the label.”

The doctor opened the wrapper and fed the piece of candy to Morgan. The chocolate was delicious, but it was utterly degrading to be fed like this, to not be able to grab what was offered and eat it herself.

After Morgan finished the chocolate, Angela walked back over to the monitor, and spun it around so that it now faced Morgan. The let half of the screen was a video feed from a camera mounted on the ceiling. She saw herself there, strapped to the table, spread open and vulnerable. As she wiggled against her restraints this was reflected on the monitor— it was a live feed.

Numbers were scrolling past on the right side of the monitor and there was a dark blue bar at the bottom of the screen. “These are your vital stats,” Angela told her. “Heart rate, respiration, blood pressure, blood sugar, et. cetera. All this information is coming straight from your Complement, no other equipment needed.”

The door opened and the blonde nurse that gave Morgan the lozenge walked in.

Angela looked up from the monitor. “Everything should be all set in room one,” the nurse told Angela. “Her third cycle just finished.”

“Thanks, Sara,” Angela replied, turning back to the monitor, which was still facing Morgan. “Let me check.”

The doctor entered something on her mobile and the image shifted. Morgan was no longer displayed on the monitor. Instead, it was Amato. The young Italian woman was strapped down with her legs spread wide, just as Morgan was. Her Complement, or rather her focus, was clearly visible.

Amato seemed to be freaking out, thrashing and jerking against her restraints. Her skin glistened with sweat and her eyes were wild. There was no sound but she seemed to be screaming. The bar at the bottom of the statistics screen was a gold color instead of blue, and a dramatically increased heart rate was displayed above.

Angela nodded at the nurse then tapped her mobile again, switching the video feed back to Morgan. Angela turned towards the door. “Now we have to wait a bit,” she told Morgan. “I’ll be back when the anesthetic has worn off. Don’t go anywhere, now!” The doctor laughed at her joke and followed the nurse out of the room, leaving Morgan alone.

There was nothing she could do but wait. There was no clock in the room and no date displayed on the monitor read-out. She had no way to gauge the passage of time.

The image of Amato writhing on the table, eyes bugging out, kept running through her mind. What had they done to her? Morgan had distanced herself from Amato and Hunt after hearing about the betting pool, but she didn’t deserve ... that. Whatever that was.

Come to think of it, Amato and Hunt must have won something from that pool. Morgan wondered if Amato had been able to collect any of the winnings she was owed. Probably not.

She didn’t feel particularly horny yet. Was she supposed to feel it now, or was there some activation procedure for this thing, and then it would just wash over her? Did that mean she might still be able to come now?

It really didn’t matter, her legs were cuffed in the stirrups, there was no way to close them, no way to get the stimulation she would need for an orgasm. She could wiggle her hips, shift from side to side and arch her back but that was about it. There was no way to touch her breasts or her nipples either. That might have been enough, but they were equally inaccessible.

She wondered what Derek was doing right now. He was probably out on a delivery, listening to the radio, completely oblivious to what was happening to her. He probably wouldn’t even care if he did know, the bastard.

Fuck him. Fuck him for pretending to care, and then abandoning her like any other man.

Yes, fuck him, that was the problem, she was going to need to fuck him, but — no! She needed to stop thinking that way. Feeling sorry for herself over Derek was stupid.

She wasn’t sad, she was mad. How dare he? Hot rage ran through her — for once the truth was on her side. She hadn’t stolen anything, and that fucking prick leaped to condemn her just like everyone else.

Kevin testified against her and then Derek bailed, both men, both pieces of shit. Why couldn’t they just go off and beat the fuck out of each other? Kevin was huge, he’d clobber Derek without breaking a sweat, but, hey, that was totally fine with her. She found herself imagining the two of them shirtless in a boxing ring, Kevin punching Derek in the face repeatedly as he tried to defend himself. Maybe Derek would throw out a kick, or tackle Kevin, manage to inflict some pain on her huge, muscular ex before going down. It was a pleasant thought.

The thought of the two attractive, half-naked men fighting, grappling with each other, their muscles exposed and gleaming with sweat kept running through her mind. She imagined them wearing short boxing trunks, prominent bulges clearly visible beneath the cloth. Maybe they were fighting over her, and the winner would come ravish her. That thought was turning her on.

It was really turning her on.

The hot anger she felt wasn’t merely rage, it was sexual. As she became aware of the need, it flooded her body. She was unbelievably, uncontrollably turned on. This went beyond mere arousal, it was a blazing inferno of need that suffused every part of her.

This intensity couldn’t be natural. It had to be the Complement.

She shifted and pulled against the straps restraining her, tried to get some stimulation, any stimulation at all. She rocked her ass back and forth against the table, but it was futile. There was no way she could move so that her clit or lips would come into contact with anything but air. Cuffed like this, her sex was not only exposed, but isolated.

It was maddening. Her pussy was right there and she needed to touch it, but she couldn’t. She could do nothing to satisfy the urge, just lay there and fantasize about what she would do if she were free. Increasingly erotic images of Kevin and Derek raced through her mind. She wanted to fuck them, fuck either of them, fuck both of them, even. Was she limited to just Derek yet?

The door opened and a man entered the room. He had Derek’s dark hair and slight build, but Kevin’s darker tanned skin. His face reminded her of Kevin too. He looked around quickly, then left with an apology: “Sorry, wrong room.”

Morgan wondered if she’d hallucinated him. There were no men here, she hadn’t seen a man since Derek came to visit. Was she going truly mad already? She was losing her mind, seeing things, and her need was only growing stronger.

She wasn’t merely forced to endure her unsatisfied desire. That would have been bad enough, but her arousal kept increasing. It came on in waves. Every time she thought the sensation had finally plateaued, it washed over her, stronger than before.

She was breathing heavily. She clenched and unclenched her fists, then curled and uncurled her toes. Concentrating on her fists and toes was a poor substitute for how she really wanted to clench down but it helped a little. Anything to take her attention away from the ever-intensifying need.

Morgan reflected that Angela hadn’t lied about there being no pain but she hadn’t exactly been honest either. No different from everything else that came out of that bitch’s mouth, really. This wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t not pain. It was the broken promise of pleasure, which was just as bad, if not worse.

If she could just reach down, touch herself, she was sure it would only take seconds. The slightest touch would be enough to make her come harder than she ever had in her life. Her pussy was right there, it was part of her, but it was completely out of reach.

She continued to squirm against the bonds. Tightly shutting her eyes, she envisioned what she needed.

Her fantasy had devolved into a full-blown threesome. She imagined herself sucking on Derek’s cock while Kevin took her forcefully from behind, ramming into her tight wet, pussy. A low moan escaped her throat, echoing in the empty room. Her mouth was wide open wide as if to encompass the girth of Derek’s manhood. The two strong, beautiful men would fill her body, push her over that edge she couldn’t quite reach. They would give her an orgasm that would shake her to the core, and then keep on going. If only she could get there, if only...

Her fantasy was interrupted by the sound of the door opening again. This time it was Angela, who was probably not a hallucination. She still wore that fake, plastic smile, which seemed to be her trademark.

Angela glanced at the monitor. Morgan followed the doctor’s gaze and saw that the bar at the bottom of the screen had shifted from a dark blue to a dark green. When had that happened?

“Your levels are coming along nicely, I see,” the doctor said. She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and ran a finger over Morgan’s sex. While unexpected, the sensation was very welcome.

Angela withdrew quickly, far too quickly. “Seems you felt that just fine,” she said, then sniffed her finger. “And a hint of citrus, right on schedule.”

It really was working, then. When Hunt and Amato first told her about the Complements they had explained that the orange smell that suffused the county jail — and was even stronger in the Marysville prison — had nothing to do with cleaning products. The Complements could shift the scent of arousal, decrease the strength of the natural odor and combine it with a pleasant citrus perfume.

Without the shift, she was told her smell could become quite strong and therefore embarrassing. The smell of oranges, on the other hand, was pleasant in moderation. Of course, if there were too many women with Complements in one place it started to smell like an orange juice factory.