Gloved hands roughly grabbed my left ankle and gripped around my knee. He drew my leg up and placed it in the smooth cold tray-like support. He made quick work of strapping my leg to the device with leather and buckles above and below my knee. I felt more chilled air between my legs as he drew my right leg up and onto the second apparatus, securing it just as firmly. My legs were now bent up and poised on either side of him and I could see his slow grin fall on me, his eyes assessing me and his handiwork. I was immobilized and completely at his disposal.

My eyes followed him as he moved around to my side. His gaze drew away from my face and followed his hands to either side of my neck. He was prodding beneath my jawline with his fingers. The fingers pressed at the base of my throat, then his hands separated to press into my arm pits. He was now performing as any clinician, belying the circumstances that brought me here.

The smooth powdered latex hands stretched over my ribs and the heat of them slid upward to cup my breasts. His thumbs drew up across the swells and brushed across my nipples which were so hard from my fear and the cold room. I could no longer watch his face, fierce in concentration. I turned my head aside and stared at a sterile white wall as he continued.

The hands left me briefly but returned with fingertips coated in the now familiar cold gel lubricant. Fingertips swirled at the base of my left breast and worked in a circular motion around it. At times his fingers pressed quite hard and I sucked in air at the discomfort, but he continued. As he approached the crest, his pressing was beginning to hurt but not nearly as much as his finger and thumb pinching and rolling my hard nipple. I swallowed hard as the gloved hands slid across to repeat his procedure on my right breast.

I sighed relief against the tape when he completed his manipulation of my breasts. He pressed his hands below my ribs and hard into my stomach, moving across me, palpating my insides, shifting me with his firm motion. As his hands descended to my abdomen, I started to feel pain at his pressing. I realized I needed to pee and his pressing was making that ever more urgent. At one point I moaned against his pressing directly over my full bladder. He muttered some comment on it. I turned my head to look at him wide eyed, protesting uselessly against the tape. He elaborated, saying he would see that my full bladder was emptied properly. His definition of "properly" would soon become clear.

Before leaving my side, he reached over my head and made an adjustment to the table, raising me up at a slightly higher angle. This regretfully afforded me a better view of him as he took up his position between my knees again. He dragged a roller stool over toward the end of the exam table, and a lamp on a flexible stand. The instrument tray was pulled closer to his intended work arena, though I could still see the instruments on it, tubes of lubricant, rubber hoses, and more that I couldn't look at any longer. He distracted me by taking a seat and wheeling in closer.

Apparently dissatisfied with the room available to him or my position, he pressed on the supports beneath my knees and spread my legs further. The cold air had better access to my moist crotch and so did my examiner. He stood for a moment and wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me toward him, crackling the paper beneath me and shifting me so my cheeks were now half off the end of the table. I was inexorably splayed open for him to work unhindered, so he sat again on the roller stool.

A gloved hand appeared between my thighs over the crest of my pelvic bone. He rested his hand there then pressed in with his fingers. I jerked because he had easily found my swollen bladder and it elicited a sharp pain. The hand left me and I tried to focus on the pattern in the ceiling, though most of my concentration was on holding my water.

There were sounds from things being shuffled on the tray. A hand pressed against me then finger and thumb slowly parted my outer lips. A cold swab startled me and caused me to leak a few drops as he pressed the tiny hole. Something touched me there, pushing in. I felt the burning need to urinate grow momentarily stronger, pass and hit again as the inflexible tube found my bladder. I heard him working at something, pumping. My eyes began to water with the pain. I couldn't release the pressure and whatever he was doing was making it stronger. I felt a rush of coldness inside. He was filling the balloon of the catheter with cold water instead of air. The pain of the pressure was fierce.

At last I felt the tube within me shift as he pressed downward on it. He must have been directing it to a basin for when he released me with the unclamping, I heard my water flowing from the tube and trickling into a metal container. I was past embarrassment, I was relieved as my bladder emptied around the cold balloon holding the catheter tube in place.

Even after I was emptied, for the flow into the container stopped, I still felt the pressure of the small balloon. There was a trickle from that being emptied and the burning of the tube sliding out of me at last. I relaxed, sighed relief against the tape and unclenched my fists in the cuffs. I was otherwise unresponsive to his declaration of success with that procedure.

He left his position, presumably with the collecting container and went to his sink and counter. There seemed an opportunity to rest. I was so tired, tired from his work on me, weak from all the waves of adrenalin that had been fueling my fear. The white noise of the water running in the sink lulled me. I must have drifted off.

( Continued Page 4)