disclaimer: Except for a couple OC's, all characters are the sole property of Marvel Comics. We expect to recieve no monetary benefit from this story and it is meant for entertainment purposes only.

Authors' Note: This story is co-written by Dizi and Jaenelle Angelline, both good fanfic authors in their own right. It is posted here at the BDSM Library under Jaenelle's account because Dizi doesn't yet have one. Reviews and feedback can be made through the story review/ratings forum, and also the Authors can be contacted at:

Jaenelle Angelline/jaeangel: baejmaminski@peoplepc.com

Dizi: Nedrane@msn.com

This is only the first chapter of what will be a long work. More chaptes will follow if the interest is present. Thank you for reading our story, enjoy the writing, and as always, feedback is appreciated!

The Gift

by Dizi and Jaenelle Angelline

Chapter 1

"...it is, of course, a mistake. The Genoshan mutates were conditioned to rely on their masters. They cannot take care of themselves." The voice was loud, arrogant, and quite sure of its veracity .

Charles had had enough. He'd been listening to this conversation with one ear while carrying on his own conversation with his acquaintances. They were at a UN conference concerning the sudden recent downfall of the Genoshan human government, and the struggle of the mutants enslaved there to regain control of their lives. He was a believer that it would eventually be possible for the mutants to become a free, self-governing nation. This man, though…

He excused himself from the group discussion he was currently involved in, and rolled his wheelchair across the space between his table and the arrogant speaker's table. "Dr. Gatlin, isn't it? Charles Xavier." he introduced himself, shaking the man's hand. He didn't know him well and would usually avoid him, but felt the need to refute his statement. There was something about the man that he found distasteful, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Yes, Dr. Micheal Gatlin. I've heard of you, Prof. Xavier. Pleased to meet you." He made a space for Xavier at his table and he slid his wheelchair into it.

"I couldn't help overhearing your words. You believe that their conditioning has become so firm that they cannot break the mental ‘mold' they have been forced to assume, am I correct?” Gatlin nodded. "I believe you're wrong. The Genoshan mutants were once free. After a certain period of adjustment, they will create a society where they will again live free lives." Charles had faith and hope that this was true, and looked forward to seeing it happen in the near future.

"I have heard of your work, Xavier. You may be correct for some of the newer ones, those who were only recently enslaved, but my research shows learned behavior plays a large role in a person's psyche. Someone who has lived the majority of their life in a certain manner is not able to do otherwise later in life and will revert to the learned behavior. Especially if that behavior was previously a matter of their survival."

"I cannot agree." Charles shook his head. "It has always been my conviction that, given a chance, people will change for the better."

Gatlin's head tilted to the side. "Ah, that is the question, isn't it? Who decides what is better?"

"They will need to determine that for themselves. 'Better' is a subjective, it's different for everyone."

"But will they be able to understand what is better for them? , As I understand it, one reason why they were called 'mutates' instead of mutants is because they have been conditioned in several different ways. Conditioning is a very stong factor. Consider what some would call 'sexual deviants'. They live their life a certain way and cannot nor do they desire to live another. Someone raised in that manner learns to live that way and it is part of them. They are not able to change it and don't want to. When asked they would tell you that."

"Sexuality is outside my expertise." Charles responded. "I am not qualified to comment on it."

"Really." A thoughtful smile played on Gatlin's lips. "I have been told some of the mutates were made into sexual playthings. You might look into it and the behaviors involved."

"Perhaps I should." Charles admitted thoughtfully.

Gatlin rose. "I must go, I see a colleague I must speak to." The two men shook hands again. "But we will speak of this again. I know of a way to show you what I mean."

Charles watched him go while surreptitiously wiping his palm on his pant leg. He didn't like Dr. Michael Gatlin. The man might have a point, but he honestly didn't like him. His psyche just felt... wrong.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he mustered a pleasant smile and turned to rejoin his interrupted conversation.

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Charles tried to put the conversation from his mind, but found himself coming back to it over the next week or so. He himself had never been 'into' alternative sexuality, but knew some of his students had explored it. Most notably, Remy and Logan had experienced it and would be quite knowledgeable on the subject. Also, it was well-known that Warren and Betsy like to play 'games'. In a mansion with so many people living in it, it was hard to keep something like that private. Regardless of the commonality of the knowledge, he simply couldn't bring himself to ask any of them his questions, since he had always tried to maintain a certain distance on more personal subjects.

He finally started trying to improve his understanding by been quietly searching for sources on the internet and making an appointment to consult with Emma Frost per her experiences at the Hellfire Club when he received a visit from Michael Gatlin.

It was Jean who answered the knock on the door.

"Hello." the dark-haired man said pleasantly. She had a feeling he was sizing her up and didn't like it, didn't like him. There was a sliminess, a distinctive, unpleasant flavor to the man's psychic scent. A young woman stood quietly beside him. "I'm Dr. Michael Gatlin. I would like to see Prof. Xavier, if you please."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, knowing he didn't. Charles would have mentioned expecting visitors.

"Oh, nothing so formal," he smiled. "I have something for him. It's a quick, informal visit."

*Charles?* Jean called mentally. *You have visitors. Shall I show them in?*

*Go ahead, Jean.* he responded. *Have them wait in the hall and we'll discuss them when you get here.*

"Please follow me and I'll see if he has time you." Leading them through the foyer, she gestured to a bench outside Charles study. "Please wait here."

"Certainly." Gatlin seated himself immediately, leaning back into the plushy seat and crossing his legs comfortably. The girl he had brought stayed standing beside him, had not lifted her eyes from the floor since she had walked in. A quick psychic probe revealed nothing but a strange, intense focus on the man sitting on the bench. Still puzzling over this, Jean headed for Xavier's office.

Going in, she shut the door gently behind her. "There's a man named Michael Gatlin here who says he has something for you. Do you know him? I get strange psychic impressions from him and his female companion."

"A woman?" he frowned. He hadn't considered that Gatlin would have contacted anyone else about their conversation.

"A young one, strawberry blonde, green eyes, perhaps a little shorter than I am. He seems to be ignoring her completely, but she's so totally focused on him it's… strange,” Jean admitted. “I've never felt anything like that before.”

"She doesn't sound familiar but perhaps she's a colleague of his. It can be hard to tell." He shrugged. Nothing to do now if the man had been indiscrete. "Show him in and we'll find out."

"Are you sure? I don't like him for some reason." Jean shuddered, but she couldn't find the words to describe the wrongness she felt from his mind.

"Neither do I, but the sooner I see him the sooner he leaves." He didn't admit that he was curious as to what he man had to say and what he wanted to give him. Perhaps a book on the subject?

"Whatever you think best." she went to the door and held it open. "Prof. Xavier will see you now, Dr. Gatlin."

"Thank you." he said politely and turned a harsh face to the girl. "Sit and don't move." he ordered harshly, his tone of voice completely incongruous to the genial nod he gave Jean on the way inside.

Shocked, Jean looked at the girl who had immediately done as she'd been told. She had given Charles an accurate description but hadn't mentioned how lovely the girl was. She definitely looked too young to be a colleague of either man. And surely a colleague wouldn't wear four-inch stiletto heels?

*Scott?* she called mentally to her husband through their psychic link. *Something strange is going on. Would you and the others come to the foyer outside Charles office, please?*

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"Prof. Xavier, good to see you again." Micheal shook Charles hand. "I don't have time, so I'll get straight to the point . I have thought a lot about our previous conversation."

"I have found myself doing the same." Charles admitted to him. "Jean said you have something for me. A publishing of yours explaining your research further, perhaps?"

"No, no, no, I have something better." he said enthusiastically. "I have brought you an example."

"Excuse me?" he was not sure he understood.

"A good example of conditioning." he explained. "I'm making it a gift to you. Don't thank me. I want you to observe and get an understanding of the subject. It's quite docile and will follow instructions to a tee. Exactly. You'll need to be explicit because it cannot interpret meaning."

"I don't believe I fully understand you." Charles mind had gone blank. The man couldn't be saying what Charles thought he was saying. He could NOT mean...

"Come, I'll show it to you." he gestured to the closed door. "I really don't have much time, another appointment you know."

Gatlin opened the door with Charles reluctantly following, just as the rest of the mansion's residents arrived.

"Charles." Scott nodded deferentially.

"What's up, Chuck?" Logan asked, leaning against the wall.

"Who your pretty friend, eh?" Remy asked, winking at the girl who hadn't moved a muscle since being given her instructions, while Rogue glared at him.

"It does have a somewhat pleasing exterior, I suppose." Gatlin smiled charmingly at them. "Not very intelligent, though. As I mentioned, Charles, you'll have to be quite explicit in your instructions, I'm afraid. Clear and forceful. It's quite stupid, in fact."

The air seemed to stir slightly as Ororo's hands clenched. Remy's eyes glowed redly, and he tensed. Logan's muscles contracted as he snapped upright from his slouch against the wall. Warren swallowed hard; Betsy raised one dark eyebrow. Jean's eyes flashed, and she went rigid with anger; she felt Scott's temper spike, though he showed no outward change. Dr. Gatlin, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the offense he generated at calling the young woman 'it'.

"Stand." he ordered her. When she again immediately followed his instructions, he removed the long brown duster from her. She wore a sheer negligee and the stillettos. Nothing else.

Her skin was a clear porcelain color, as beautiful and as fragile-looking as a real doll's; her eyes, though she kept them lowered to the floor, were a clear emerald green. Her skin was flawless, blemish-free except for a scattering of freckles over her shoulders, upper chest, upper arms, and several on her small, pert nose. She was only a little shorter than Jean, but the stilettos made her look taller.

"Wow." Bobby's eyes were riveted on the female figure before him and his face showed his surprise along with everyone else. Though they couldn't seem to say anything, he managed to get out with a touch of awe, "Look at all the freckles."

"Yes, it is a pity about the freckles." Gatlin sighed. "They're its only true physical flaw. Oh well, nothing is perfect. Turn around slowly." he ordered her.

She turned and revealed her backside. It was covered in welts from neck to calf, some scabbed over. The women looked horrified and most of the men angry. Charles felt his mouth drop open, and instantly closed it.

"As you can see, you don't need to worry about being gentle with it. I believe it to be some sort of mutant as such things seem to simply disappear without a trace after a week at most. I thought this might interest you, Charles, because of your work with mutants. The government wanted it but decided that it's behavior was detrimental to their purposes. The were going to breed it but it doesn't seem able to become pregnant for some reason."

Too shocked to speak, Charles simply stared at the man, certain he was insane.

"This is your new master." Gatlin told the girl, gesturing to Charles. She went to him and knelt at his feet, raising her head for the first time and fixing him with those expressionless green eyes. Jean sensed her entire focus shift to Xavier, though a tiny portion of the girl's awareness remained on Dr. Gatlin. "As I said, I have an appointment. Enjoy, I'll be in touch at some point in the future to see how you're doing with it."

With that he left, chuckling to himself at the looks on their faces.

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"What is the meaning of this, Charles?!" Ororo demanded.

"Yeah, Chuck, if ya were hard up ya shoulda said somethin'." Logan gestured to the girl still kneeling beside the wheelchair. "Ya didn't need ta go ta extemes. Coulda got ya someone if that's what ya wanted."

"He said he had a 'gift'," Charles said in a dazed voice. "I never dreamed..."

"What kind of person is he to give away a human being?" Jean demanded, enraged.

Scott said nothing, but his face showed his outrage now the man had gone. Though no one could see his eyes, they were fixed on the girl. Xavier didn't comment on it but thought he caught a hint of... something else?

"A toy." Remy said, disgustedly. "She a toy. Dey no fun. Remy outgrew dem long time ago."

"A toy?" Bobby asked confused. "I don't get it."

"You don' listen. He explained." Remy pointed at the impassive woman. "Dat look nice but got no substance. Go to de store and get somet'ing plastic, dey just as fun."

"That's disgustin', Remy." Rogue shook her head in disappointment at him. "She's a person, not a thing. No matter what HE said." She jerked her thumb at the closed door.

"Huh." He crossed his arms, knowing she wouldn't understand and hoping she didn't notice the bulge in his pants. Just because he didn't like situation didn't mean the sight of a practically naked female didn't affect him. Looking around he saw all the other men were in the same state. He knew a few of them at least could see the possibilities she represented.

"She is what she is." Logan shrugged. "You gonna share, Charlie?"

"Um, I suppose it would be alright, if she has no objections." he responded doubtfully, not sure what Logan would do to the girl.

Logan's eyes gleamed as he looked at the woman on the floor. He knew she wouldn't object. She had obviously been trained better than that. His mind was running wild with lust, and he'd gotten stiff the moment the stranger had said 'you don't need to worry about being gentle with it'.

Like Charles, Scott was at a loss, so said the first thing that came to mind. "It would be best if you put some clothes on, Miss."

She didn't move, continued staring at Charles. Regardless of what kneeling on the hard floor must be doing to her knees and circulation in her legs, regardless of whatever pain she might still be feeling from the scabbed welts and cuts on her back, she showed no sign, no expression, of what she might be thinking or feeling. And Charles couldn't bring himself to look into her mind deeply enough to find out.

"Hey, ah, what's your name?" Bobby asked.

She still didn't move.

"Dey don' listen." Remy said to Logan, nodding to Bobby and the others. Even Betsy, who had experience with something like this, looked puzzled.

"They're tenderfoots, Gumbo." Logan turned to Xavier. "She ain't gonna do nothin' but sit there 'til ya tell her to do somethin'. She's yers and belongs ta only you, won't respond ta nobody else 'less ya tell her otherwise."

He gulped. "What's your name?" His voice was stready, but inside he simply didn't know what to do with this situation, or with this girl.

She looked confused at the question and got an unhappy look on her face. Her first instruction and she couldn't do what he wanted of her.

"Dat's jus' great. Mon Dieu." Remy swore in French. "She a toy, alright. She don' have a name. Dat why he call her 'it'."

"Maybe not." Logan said consideringly. "She coulda forgot it or she coulda jus' buried it if she been livin' without one long 'nuff, but it could still be inside her somewhere."

"What de difference? Mean she still got no name." Remy insisted.

It had taken awhile but Hank finally got Logan and Remy's implications. This had possibilities. A thoughtful look on his face and a gleam in his eye, he suggested, "By my understanding, in order for her to interact with us in any manner you will need to instruct her to do so. Even for such occurrences as passing food at mealtimes. It would eventually become tedious for you. Perhaps a general order to do as we say would be best for 'Freckles' here."

"'Freckles'," Charles murmured, "at least it fits her." Despite his inclinations and though it shamed him, he felt a bit of possessiveness towards the girl. But if she was going to live here for the foreseeable future Hank was right and he wouldn't be able to take the time to order her to do every little thing. He felt slightly apprehensive as he looked directly at her impassive face, careful not to look elsewhere, and said, "You are to cooperate with all residents and speak when spoken to. In fact, I insist you speak your mind and ask questions."

She again looked confused. This was not what she was used to. No one had even touched her yet and she was usually put to work immediately. Her mouth opened timidly, but no sound came out.

"Yes?" Charles encouraged.

"They-they are all masters?" she whispered, looking at the floor.

He hesitated and turned to Logan for guidance, who shook his head. "There can be only one Master, an' that's you. The rest o' us'll be ‘Sir' or ‘Ma'am'."

"No," Charles told her, feeling a sense of relief, "but you are to do as you are told and respond appropriately."

Feeling a part of the girl's mind expand to encompass an awareness of the rest of them, but still mainly focus on Charles, Jean closed her own mind off. She was overwhelmed by the strangeness of the situation and felt sorry for Charles.

Stepping forward, Ororo held out a hand to assist Freckles from the floor. "Come, child. I will help you find some clothes."

She looked to Charles who nodded reassuringly. She got up silently from the floor and followed Ororo out of the foyer, walking gracefully on those awkwardly high heels.

Watching them leave, Jean asked, "Where should we put her?"

"In the room beside mine." he said thinking quickly as he could under the circumstances. "It has a connecting door in case she needs me."

“A word, Professor?” Hank said, stopping Charles before he could retreated to his study. “When our resident weather goddess completes her outfitting, perhaps she might be brought down to the medlabs where I can examine her completely and run some tests? I must admit to some curiosity concerning our new guest.”

"Jean has gone to the kitchen to finish dinner. I believe it would be best to wait until afterwards." He smiled at the blue-furred doctor. "I know it might take some time and you won't want to be interrupted. Also, a meal may help her relax with us."

"Excellent, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I would indeed most likely become engrossed in my work. I will take time now to ready the lab for after dinner." Hank said, and headed off down the hall.

The foyer quickly emptied, until only Logan and Remy were left.

"Huh." Remy was curious to see how long it would take the others to figure out what had just happened. "A toy."

"Yeah, I know, Gumbo." Logan said after the others had left. "But toys got their uses, and Blue looks like he's got some ideas jus' like me." He looked at Remy, and smiled as he saw the bulge in the other man's pants. “An' from the looks o' it, so do you.”

Disgusted with himself and ashamed of his reaction, Remy turned and strode out of the hallway, heading outside where he could smoke in peace and think. It wasn't the first time he'd 'played' with a toy. Wouldn't be the first time he'd had a toy under him in bed. Knowing he was weak when it came to anything sexual, especially since he couldn't have sex with the one woman he wanted to, he knew he would probably play with this girl and have her under him. But that didn't mean he liked it.

He'd been submissive and dominant, all parties willing, but a toy was different. Unlike a slave or pet, a toy didn't acknowledge pain or pleasure, it was all the same to them. They were something to be used, simply there, accepting anything done to them. He had learned the difference between a slave and a toy the hard way before he understood that. He had almost killed one, and at the time he had only been playing a game. After that it became serious, and he made sure to learn all the ins and outs.

For Logan, he knew it was different. It had never been a game to him, or not for a very long time. The man had been right about the ideas running through his head though, and it filled him with self-disgust. He would use the girl, he knew that, but it wouldn't change the fact he didn't like toys. He pitied them.

Remy smoked several cigarrettes slowly, getting control of himself, before heading in to dinner.

disclaimer: Except for a couple OC's, all characters are the sole property of Marvel Comics. We expect to recieve no monetary benefit from this story and it is meant for entertainment purposes only.

The Gift

by Dizi and Jaenelle Angelline

Chapter 2

"That is better." Ororo nodded in satisfaction. They were not the most flattering of clothes, but at least Freckles was now decently covered. Eyeing the old sweatpants and t-shirt of Kitty's, she decided it would do until they could take her shopping. "Do you not feel better?"

She tugged at the clothes, not thinking to explain how strange she felt in such garments. She was unused to 'normal' clothes, or any at all, and her only concern was if Master wanted to touch and could not. But if these clothes were what Master wanted...

"Come," Ororo gestured to the doorway. "It is time for supper. I believe food will be good for you, child. It would not take much for you to become only skin and bones."

She followed the tall dark-skinned woman to a large dining room, as she was instructed. While the woman took a seat she knelt beside her Master.

Charles looked down at her in surprise. "Aren't you hungry?"

She stared at him, torn. She knew he wanted an answer but didn't know what to say, how to respond... She wanted what Master wanted.

"Don't you want to sit down and eat?" he clarified.

She asked timidly, "Is that what Master wants?"

Sighing, Logan stood so he could see the young woman on the floor. "You," he said commandingly, pointing at her. "Stand up."

On her feet in an instant, she faced him. This she understood.

"Sit there," he pointed at the empty seat across from him and Remy beside Scott, and waited until she had done it before continuing. "At meals, you are ta sit an' eat with everyone else. That's what yer Master wants. Do ya understand?"

She nodded looking back and forth between him and the Master, who nodded reassuringly.

"You gotta tell her yer wishes if ya don't think she's actin' like ya expect. She don't know and probably won't do nothin' if she ain't sure." he explained, taking his seat again.

"This is most complex." Charles muttered, taking a bite.

"Nah, it's too easy. She does what ya tell her or what ya tell her ya expect a her. Now she knows what ya want that's what she'll do."

Remy made a disgusted sound and they all started eating. When she didn't touch the food going around the table except to pass it along when asked, Scott kindly filled her plate, not wanting to make an issue of it. He ignored her using her fingers most of the time but surreptitiously indicated the utensils to her, touching her hand and showing her by example what was expected. Which worked most of the time.

Enthusiastic to get started on his new 'project' Hank started the conversation. "The... gentleman, for lack of a better word... indicated Freckles has a healing factor. I am most curious to determine its strengths. Monitoring her current injuries should be a good beginning toward that objective."

"Yes, of course," Charles mused. "Logan would have had them healed before we could have seen them, correct?"

"Usually," Hank confirmed and Logan nodded. "Depending on the severity."

"Freckles, why did they do that to you? Did you do something wrong?" Bobby asked. He knew it was morbid but couldn't help his curiosity. It was like knowing there had been a car crash. You didn't want to see but couldn't help looking.

She continued eating alternating her attention between the Master, her plate, and Scott.

When Charles spoke her attention instantly focused solely on him. "My dear, he was speaking to you. YOU are 'Freckles' and are to respond appropriately when spoken to by that name. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." Turning her head between Charles and Bobby she tried to remember what was said. It was hard to keep track of so many people, but it was what Master wanted... "Master wanted to."

To be sure she had understood the question, Betsy reiterated, "Did you disobey?"

She turned to face the direction the new person was in. "Master wanted to."

"You were punished like that for no reason?" Scott asked in surprise. He had always understood it was a 'punishment' and there was SOME reason. "Don't you feel anything about that?"

Unsure what they wanted from her as she had already explained, she stated, "Master wanted to."

Wanting to get past a subject they really couldn't understand, Logan narrowed his eyes at her, taking in her appearance. She didn't look quite... right. "When did ya last eat?"

Quickly, she swallowed the food in her mouth. "Yesterday, Sir." she said respectfully.

"What was it?" he demanded sharply.

"B-bread, Sir." Her voice had softened at his tone and her eyes lowered submissively when he growled.

"Check her over good, Blue. She may not be gettin' enough fuel ta heal. I usually eat lotsa protein but if I don't eat regular I slow down some." They could tell by his tone he was not happy about it, but were surprised that Freckles had not reacted more than she had, even if his anger were not directed at her. "They treated her that way cause she heals but they ain't feedin' her right so she can."

"That is not how you treat a submissive." Betsy said in outrage, patting Warren's arm reassuringly. "They are to be cared for, even if they are not loved."

"Dat not how it is wit' a toy." Remy had watched Freckles eat slowly. She had probably learned long ago not to bolt food when it was offered so as not to throw up. She was very trained. What he would say was too trained... and not as stupid at that bastard had made out if she was able to learn such things, even if it was a matter of survival. It reminded him of the guilt he had felt earlier for some of his ideas, but kept them fresh in his mind and a bulge in his pants. "Toy's a t'ing to be used. Dat how she treated."

"Not here, " Charles said firmly, meeting eyes around the table. "She is a person and will be treated as such."

"Do ya think we'd do that?" Logan asked in an offended tone. "Think anyone here would treat her like that fucker done? No matter what we do, we know we got a person.'

"No, I do not think that, but it needed to be said." He nodded towards Freckles who was watching Scott place more meat on her plate.

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Keeping his eyes forward, Hank listened to the footsteps behind him on the way to his lab. Freckles kept pace with him, walking almost silently in her bare feet. Even though his senses weren't as heightened as Logan's, they were better than normal and he could barely hear her.

Opening the door, he held it open for her then shut it firmly and locked it. Rarely did he lock the door, but he did not want to be interrupted unexpectedly while working on such an interesting subject.

"Remove your clothing. You can place them on the table against the wall." he ordered firmly, pointing to the table he meant, emulating the commanding tone Logan had used earlier.

While he booted up his computer and got out a pad and pencil, he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Being the resident doctor, he had seen all of the female X-Men naked at one time or another in many different circumstances from emergencies to physicals. However, while looking at them and touching them in such a capacity he had always been very aware they would not welcome sexual advances from him and had acted properly.

Freckles was different. He could touch her and even fuck her with impunity, and had to remind himself he had serious objectives to accomplish. Objectives which did not at this time include his currently swollen male appendage. He attempted to focus on those objectives to keep himself under control.

Starting with the basics, Hank weighed and measured her, though his eyes kept wandering back to her breasts, drawn by the way they swayed when she moved. He brushed his hand against one as he took her blood pressure, noticing she showed no reaction by face or body language as he did so.

Thinking back over the previous events and what he had learned, he assumed she was hiding her reactions. Considering his options, he decided to connected a heart monitor to her to see if her heart rate increased indicating a reaction to stimuli whether it was visually evident or not. Once it was connected, he deliberately ran a hand over both breasts and down her belly, surprised when her heart beat remained steady.

Reluctantly controlling off his lustful thoughts as best he could, Hank moved behind her to examine the welts on her backside. Lingering over her buttocks and thighs, which had the most severe cuts, he cleaned them all carefully and got out a tube of ointment for after he had finished the rest of her examination. Again he noted no change in her heart rate.

Contemplating this, Hank went to the examination table and raised the stirrups. "All right,” he said finally. “Climb on.” She did, obediently, and after he had adjusted his stool was at a perfect level to get an eyeful-of dick-hardening breasts and sex. She was a true redhead, he noted as he ran a hand over the fluffy, soft patch of hair between her legs, he hadn't really been able to tell earlier. It was shorter than he expected, and he hesitated a moment before he asked, “Did you…shave?” He berated himself for his uncertainty the next moment. She was a toy. She would answer anything he asked her, and as her heart rate had remained steady he knew she didn't have a problem with lying on his table naked with her thighs wide open so would not have a problem with his question.

"Master wanted it to, Sir." she answered.

He wondered briefly at her phrasing, made a note on the pad, and considered the short hair. "How long ago?"

"One hour before given to new Master, Sir."

Fingering the hair, he tried to guess how long it should be and calculated the time it had taken to grow this much so he could add it to the information needed to understand her healing factor. "When did you recieve the injuries?"

"Two days ago, Sir."

As it didn't seem to bother her, he kept petting the soft hair. "What was used to incur them?"

"Wire whip, Sir."

His fingers paused as he wrote a note to remind himself to check into the differences of the damage created by a regular whip as compared to a wire one. Hank's next question was a necessary one but it brought his mind back to his dick and what he'd like to be doing with it. "When was the last time you had intercourse?"

"Yesterday, Sir."

Looking up, he stared at her sex, both openings right before him. "In what manner?"

"Master and others fucked it's ass, Sir."

"There were multiple parties? And none entered your vagina?" he clarified, picturing it in his mind as he had a visual aid in front of him.

"Master wanted it's ass, Sir."

Reaching over to the cart with instruments and supplies he had placed nearby, Hank laid down the pad and pencil then slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Gently, he slightly pulled open the tiny pucker between the pale cheeks of her bottom. Sure enough, he saw signs of not-yet-fully healed tears in the anal ring. After smearing some vascaline on one finger, he slid it inside then twisted it around to spead the lubricant. “Clench down around my finger as tightly as you can.” She complied, but it wasn't as tight as it should have been. He added another finger, and another. She kept squeezing, and after he'd gotten his fourth finger in there her heartrate hadn't broken its steady beat. His fingers were large and his hand bigger, but he almost attempted to push his whole hand in to see if it would distress her. Reluctantly, he withdrew his fingers. He wasn't finished and had more data to collect.

Taking off the soiled gloves, he asked. "Are you hurting back here now? Have you had any problems moving your bowels?"

"No, sir."

Her voice was still as calm as the monitor, but he wasn't sure he could trust that she hadn't been damaged further inside. Her version of no pain could be simply a lessening of pain, or she might simply not acknowledge it at all. Also, as little as she'd been given to eat she may not understand what proper bowel movements should be.

Reasoning he should be safe, he disconnected the monitor wires from the machine directly, draping them around her shoulders. Then he busied himself getting a rubber bag, tubing, and valve clamp. “Come with me.” He led her to the nearby small bathroom connecting to the medlabs, and had her stand by the towel rail as he filled the enema bag with cool water. He added a measure of liquid to the bag, explaining that it was medicine and she may feel some numbness in her anal tract, then hung the bag from a hook in the ceiling, inserted the end of the tubing into her rectum and opened the valve.

She showed no sign of discomfort as the medicated water rushed into her. It was a two-quart bag, and he had filled it very full. It was twice the size of the enemas he would normally give but he wanted to know what her holding capacity was as he believed it was not a new experience for her. When the bag emptied she was still standing there impassively, her belly bulging but showing no other sign of the discomfort he assumed she must be feeling. He waited five minutes, watching the cramps rippling across her swollen belly, before finally giving her permission to expel the fluid into the toilet.

When she stood again, his dick was so hard his pants felt suddenly a few sizes too tight. She'd been conditioned to endure the most extreme discomforts without external signs, and he was suddenly seized with a wild desire to see how high her pain tolerance was. In the interests of expanding his knowledge of her, of course. But that would have to wait. He was not done for the day wanted to wait until she was fully healed so that all his results would be accurate.

He led her back to the examining table and got her settled, reattaching the wires to the heart monitor, then picked up the pad again to make more notes. "When did your last menstrual cycle end?" She didn't answer and he rephrased. "Your period?" She again didn't answer and he ordered sharply. "Freckles answer the question."

Blinking in surprise at the sudden increase of her heartbeat, he gentled his tone. "Do you understand the question?"

"No, sir." Her voice was the same as before and the beeping started to level out again.

"Okay, if you don't understand a question say that." And he asked carefully. "Are there certain times of the month when you bleed heavily from your vagina, and it is darker than normal blood?”

She hesitated, before answering this time. "It doesn't know, Sir."

Hank sighed, not entirely sure how to explain further but needing to. She had to have a period. "When did you last bleed from your vagina?" he finally asked.

"Three days ago, Sir."

"Do you know what caused the bleeding?"

"Master put something wooden inside, Sir."

He frowned. Wooden objects could be dangerous, there was always a chance of splinters being left behind. "Do you still hurt from the object?"

"No, Sir."

Not trusting that answer either, he knew he'd check after finishing this line of questioning. "How often is your vagina penetrated?"

"When Master wants to, Sir."

Letting out a frustrated sound, he asked, "How often in, let's say, a week?"

"When Master wants to, Sir."

"Of course," he muttered. "And nothing since the wooden object?"

"No, Sir."

Thinking about his original question, he circled back to it in a round about way. "Think back to the first time you bled from there. How long ago was it?"

"I-it doesn't know, Sir."

The increase this time didn't surprise him due to her confusion, but he frowned. "How old are you?"

"I-it d-doesn't know, Sir."

Still elevated but she was still confused, so he didn't worry. "How old were you the first time it happened?"

Hank dropped the pad at the sudden loud increase indicating full-blown panic. His eyes flew to her face. For the first time, he saw fear. "Freckles!"

Mistaking his worry for anger, she whispered, "Seven, Sir."

Running to her side, he took framed her face with his hands. "It's okay. Don't think about it anymore. I won't ask anything else about it, I promise."

"Yes, Sir." she answered normally. Almost instantly her face cleared but it took longer for her heart to return to normal.

He took deep breaths, letting his own heart return to normal. Seven. There was no way she had started her menses that early. Which meant she was initiated into sexual activity at age seven. The thought did nothing to alleviate the sexual attraction he felt but he didn't think he could now bring himself to do anything with her tonight. Some other time perhaps, but not tonight. He was too filled with disgust.

Forcing his mind back to the business at hand, he smoothed back her hair. She was lovely. "I will finish your examination and draw blood. That will be all for tonight, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

After picking up the pad and pencil, he took his seat again, right in front of her waiting sex, and silently told his rampant cock to settle down. "Before I examine you closely the hair will have to go. I'll shave you.”

"Yes, Sir."

He got what he needed, then told her to lay still before he shaved her sex smooth. He had to take deep breaths again to get himself under control at the sight of it. To try to distance himself, he put on another pair of gloves so he wouldn't touch her warm skin directly when he parted her pussy lips.

Her clitoris looked all right, but he gently pushed back the hood to examine it thoroughly. He clamped her labia in hemostats to keep it out of the way when he looked internally. Then, he carefully slipped a cold steel speculum into her, but encountered a barrier partway in. Blinking, he opened it up, wider and wider, until he could see inside her most intimate flesh clearly. And wondered why he hadn't thought of this before. She was a virgin. Technically. He knew she'd been entered many times, but her healing factor had healed the torn hymen as soon as it could. This explained the confusion about her period as she bled every time. The thought of being able to fuck a virgin got him harder, which he hadn't thought was possible, and he had to quickly readjust himself in his pants before continuing the exam.

Possibly because of her healing factor, her hymen was quite thick, with only a very small hole for her menstrual fluid to exit. He used a long-handled swab to take a mucous sample from the area around the opening, and to divert his lust asked, "What is the average minimum number of days it takes you to heal when injured normally?"

"Three days, Sir."

Hank slid a swab through the tiny opening in her hymen and started to probe for a cervical sample. "And the maximum average when the injuries are more severe?"

"Ten days, Sir."

"Thank you." He wrote down the information for analysis later and reached to the cart for the last time, picking up an alcohol swab and the needle he'd prepared previously. Easily finding a vein on her pale milky thigh he took a blood sample and covered the quickly closing hole with a band-aid.

Finished, he detached the monitor wires from her. "You've done very well, Freckles. Please stand over there so I can treat your injuries."

But before he could start, the door handle jingled and there was a loud banging knock. "Blue! Open up! Chuck wants me ta talk ta Freckles!" and Logan continued to jingle the door handle impatiently.

"One moment." Hank hurriedly went to the door, opening it before Logan started banging again.

"Ain't ya done yet?" Logan demanded, shutting the door behind him. He stopped at the sight of Freckles standing naked in the middle of the room. It wasn't really that she was naked, or that the was so very beautiful. She was fairly pretty, but he saw beauty all the time. No, for him it was two things. What she represented and that she resembled a woman he'd wanted for a long time. Jean.

"I have completed my current objectives, and have only to apply ointment to her injuries. However I will want to do a follow-up in the morning." Hank smiled at her showing his fangs. "She has been most cooperative in every manner."

"'Course she has, it's what she been trained ta do." Feeling twitchy and impatient, Logan watched Hank open the tube and squeeze the gel onto a finger to begin applying it to her shoulders. "How long ya think it'll be 'fore she's whole?"

"Hmm... perhaps tomorrow evening as she is now being cared for properly." Hank replied as he finished her lower back. "Lean forward from the waist." he ordered her and began on her buttocks, giving Logan a nice view of her ass and its hole.

He hadn't missed the way Hank's cock pressed against his shorts and wondered why he hadn't taken the opportunity to relieve his frustrations. Logan shrugged to himself. He wasn't going to tell someone else what to do about their sexual needs. He had ideas of his own and was looking at one right now. "Ya find out anythin' interestin' ya wanna share?"

"Many," Hank answered finishing her calves and walking to the sink to wash his hands. "I will discuss with Charles having a meeting to inform everyone of my findings at one time. Most notably however, are two things. She seems to be unaware of her actual age and she is currently a physical virgin." He didn't want to bring up her childhood trauma while she could hear him and risk upsetting her again.

"What?" Logan forced his eyes from the girl still standing bent over. "That ain't possible."

"I assure you I examined her most thoroughly. It is not only possible but a physical fact. Compared to her other injuries, healing a broken hymen would be a small thing for her body to heal. Though from what I have gleaned, it may have been deliberately allowed to do so as perhaps a bonus to the Professor's 'gift'. She was given a day to heal before the beating. Depending on other injuries that would have been plenty of time."

"Not sure Chuck'll appreciate it, considerin', but I'll keep it in mind." Logan smiled with dark humor, adding to his list of possibilities. "Ya done? Can I take her now?"

"If the ointment has dried, she is free to dress and leave. I will set up a meeting for in the morning."

Logan walked to Freckles and lightly touched at one of the marks on her back. "They seem dry enough ta me. Get dress, girl. I got some questions fer ya."

"Yes, Sir."