The Right Treatment

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The Right Treatment Page 5

by Tara Finnegan


  “I have the rehab in hand and you need to go on sick leave during your recovery anyway, so your work will not be a problem. Besides, it’s only a couple of weeks until summer break. You get six weeks off then. It’s non-negotiable. If you fail to meet those conditions, you will face punishment. And watch your tongue,” Matt instructed.

  “What do you mean by punishment?” Aoife asked, eying him warily.

  “Loss of privileges, lines, extra work duties, even corporal punishment if necessary.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Her face blazed with fire and indignation. Matt tried to maintain a poker face, unsure if he had succeeded or not.

  “Try me and you’ll see,” he replied.

  “And if I refuse to accept punishment?”

  “Then you’re on your own. You know Fiona is kicking you out, so I suppose you’ll have to find a bedsit or something.”

  “Fuck you. I never had you down for a bully, Matt.”

  “No, you had me down for a soft touch. But you don’t need that right now. You need someone to take control for you until you regain it. I would be doing you no favour if I let you continue what you’re at. You asked for my help, and this is the best I can offer. Take it or leave it.”

  Matt left Aoife to mull it over; he needed to be sure she thought about it, not just agreed to anything to get out of there. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to. It was a hell of a lot of responsibility to take on just because he’d had a crush on her as a geeky kid. He’d spoken to Paul Smith and knew Aoife would be out of the hospital in a week, or sooner if she decided to just walk. He needed that week to clear the decks at work and get locum cover, because for the first two weeks he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight. Fortunately, her timing was good. He was due leave before taking on his consultant position; he just had to stretch it a little.

  When he returned to her the following day, Aoife accepted his terms in full and was impatient to leave immediately.

  “You will stay until Dr. Smith discharges you, is that clear? You leave here one day sooner and the deal is off.”

  “But I’m ready to go now. I can’t sleep with the noise here, and the food sucks. I’ll be much better off at your place.”

  “No, and that’s my final word on the subject. If you persist on pestering me like an impatient little child, then I will end the visit.”

  “Matt, please! I’ll do anything.”

  “Visit over, but one last thing: for as long as I am caring for you, you will call me Dr. McDaid. Respect and courtesy will be expected at all times. And you need a full sexual health exam before you leave,” Matt said as he headed for the door. It was obvious she hadn’t expected him to follow through on his threat from the way her mouth was hanging open.

  Round one, Matthew! he cheered inwardly as he left the small room. She would soon learn that he was no longer the grateful puppy, wagging its tail happily just because Aoife Devine had walked in the room. It had taken grit, determination, and self-control for Matt to qualify as a doctor. He intended to put every one of those qualities to work now along with as many more as he could muster. Aoife Devine had just become his pet project, and Matt couldn’t bear to fail at anything.

  When Matt finally went to bring Aoife home, he was greeted by hysterical tears, and a very anxious Dr. Smith trying to calm her.

  “What’s happened, Paul?” Matt asked his colleague, who led him back out to the corridor.

  “Aoife has been suspended from work, pending satisfactory completion of two months of addiction counselling and psychiatric care.”

  “Holy hell! Does that mean she has to stay here that long? Although that might be the best thing for her, even though she obviously won’t see it like that.”

  “Quite! No, she can be treated as an outpatient, and with the bed shortages, frankly, there wouldn’t be the option to keep her here that long. I’m just concerned about how she is taking the news. Are you sure you’ll be able to manage her?”

  “I hope so. Someone has to. Is it all right to talk to her?”

  “I wish you luck!” Paul replied, throwing his hands in the air with sheer exasperation.

  Matt turned to return to the small, sterile room. Just as he was about to open the door, Paul spoke again.

  “Call me anytime, day or night, Matt. As far as I can see, Aoife is not an addict to any particular substance; she is running from something, and God only knows when that something will catch her.”

  “Thanks, Paul. I really appreciate that.” Matt shuddered as he turned back to the door. Although it was a relief not to have to deal with cold turkey issues, the fact that her unhappiness ran so deep was ominous. And outside his sphere of control.

  Aoife was sitting on the bed, with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them; her vacant eyes stared ahead and she was rocking back and forth as she sobbed. She looked pathetic. Nothing like the vibrant, easy-going girl he had once known. Matt sat on the bed beside her and hugged her tight, not allowing her to continue her almost trance-like motion. His embrace was firm and purposeful rather than tender; he wanted to bring her back to the now, without allowing softness to further fuel her self-pity.

  “You need to stop that this instant, unless you want another night here,” Matt scolded as he held her tight, preventing that rocking motion that sent cold shivers down his spine.

  “My job…” she cried.

  “Is still your job as long as you behave and do as they say,” Matt finished for her. “Consider it a very timely wake-up call, Aoife, before you really hurt yourself. You were going to be on sick leave for at least another few weeks anyway, and it runs through the summer holidays. Play it straight, and you might be ready to return when school opens in September.”

  “But now it will be on my record.”

  “You can worry about that later; let’s just get you back on the straight and narrow for now, okay?”

  Aoife hesitantly nodded her agreement and Matt slackened his vise-like grip enough to allow her to take some comfort from the human contact. He was pleased she didn’t pull away as he felt it implied an element of trust in him. He allowed her to calm down completely before releasing her and helping her pack up her belongings. Once they had gone through the discharge documents, he was free to take Aoife home. With the amount of distress she was in, he decided to leave her check-up for another few days—he doubted she was up to the task or that it would leave a memorable impression he hoped for of the risks she had taken.

  Although mentally fragile and lethargic, Aoife was physically well and generally fit. Matt intended to capitalise on this and get her body’s natural feel-good drugs, endorphins, working in her favour. That meant exercise, and the more the better. He knew he would have to work on this slowly, but he started his exercise plan the day after she got out, with twenty minutes of gentle walking in the nearest park followed by ten minutes of stretches, a short jog and back to walking again. He filled the prescribed hour without overtaxing her. As he expected, Aoife resisted it with all her might as it required proactivity rather than oblivion. At first Matt coaxed her, understanding it was a whole new concept to her. While she wasn’t overly fit, she was young and reasonably active, used to dancing for long periods at least, so he wasn’t concerned about her ability to keep up. He knew it to be a lack of desire rather than lack of stamina. On the third day, he was running out of patience with her. He had asked her nicely to get into her gear twice already. But he was trying to hold it together, not wanting to come down to heavy too soon. He switched from coaxing to encouraging, telling her how well she was doing since she got out and how much better she looked already. Aoife met his efforts with sulks and whines, but eventually she caved in. On the fourth day, neither coaxing nor cajoling seemed to do the trick, but pure heavy-handedness and threats. They finally got as far as the local park, but it had been a struggle all the way, with Aoife dragging her feet. The pace was little more than a slow walk. It was raining, and at that pace, they were both going to be soaked.

/>   “I’m cold,” Aoife whined. They were walking along a tree-lined path, and a strong breeze was indeed chilling him. He was getting more and more annoyed with her.

  “If you would try moving a bit faster, you wouldn’t be cold,” he scolded. He upped his pace to a light jog. “Come on, keep up,” he shouted back to her as Aoife lagged behind. He was quite a way ahead when he realised she had stopped even walking and had plonked her behind on one of the benches. Matt turned on his heel and ran back to where she was sitting, a scowl on her face.

  “Up! Now!” he ordered.

  “I can’t, I’m too tired,” Aoife whined. There was no way she could have been tired; they had barely gone a kilometre, and that had been at an easy walking pace. He took her by the arm, pulling her up, but she still wouldn’t put one foot in front of the other. Taking a quick glance around for other people, he decided there was only one cure. He swatted her behind hard, once, twice, three times in rapid succession, still holding her arm so she couldn’t dodge his hand. She yelped, stunned. But she moved all right! Once he let go of her, she started running at all her might. Matt caught up with her easily.

  “Get. Away. Or. I’ll. Scream!” Aoife threatened, each word coming out between breathless pants.

  “Go ahead, scream,” he said, totally unperturbed. He ran close enough to keep an eye on her, but not so close that she got hysterical. Finally she had to slow her pace, but they were nearing the end of their circuit.

  “Jog, you need to cool down properly,” he warned as she came to a standstill. For a moment, she continued standing, and he wondered if she was defying him again. He sure as hell hoped not; they had re-joined the main road, and there were plenty of walkers around. It wouldn’t have stopped him physically chastising her if he absolutely had to; he could do it discreetly enough, he reckoned, but he would prefer not to. He came right into her space.

  “If you want a smack on your behind with all these people around, you’re going the right way about it,” he warned. Her eyes flashed anger.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Aoife spat.

  “Oh, believe me, I would. Now move it.”

  She finally started jogging again, slowly, but a definite jog. Matt basked in his triumph until they got to back to his apartment. Aoife didn’t speak a word to him, and he ignored her sulk, going off for a shower. When he returned to the kitchen, there was no sign of her so he knocked on her bedroom door. When she refused to answer, he just walked straight in. He found her throwing her belongings into her bag.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home.”

  “Home where? Fiona won’t let you stay.”

  “I’ll find somewhere. I don’t have to put up with that sort of abuse. You hit me!”

  “I gave you a few swats on your rear end, which you agreed to as part of the terms of coming here. If you don’t calm down and put away your things, you’ll find out what a real spanking feels like. You have nowhere else to go, so cut out that nonsense.” Aoife seemed to realise she was defeated because she dumped the contents of her bag back on the bed with a huff, throwing the empty bag on the floor. Her eyes welled up with tears of self-pity, but Matt had no intention of backing down. It was time she faced the reality of her situation.

  “Clean up that mess, then come to the kitchen for lunch,” Matt told her, leaving and shutting the door behind him. He knew she needed time to accept her defeat, and indeed he needed to assess the whole situation. He had crossed the spanking Rubicon, Aoife hadn’t threatened the law on him, and Matt knew then that he could do it in earnest when the need arose. Hell, he looked forward to it. When she returned to the kitchen, she was a much meeker person, the reality of her situation obviously having hit home.

  The research on the effect of drugs was less of a bugbear with her. Matt soon suspected it was because it was couch potato work. Her personal study was no problem—she chose to research advances in learning disabilities, something close to her heart. And for the first week, he gave her a temporary reprieve from the rehab duties, because he wasn’t quite convinced she was ready for the physical demands of a full day after all she had been through. But rather than let her think he was going soft on her, he simply said the rehab had put her on a volunteer list, and she wasn’t needed until the following week.

  For the next couple of days, Matt had no problem getting Aoife out on their run. She knew the consequences of refusal and she didn’t test him again. She was much more biddable on the surface of it, even if the fire in her eyes told a different tale of her inner submission to his rule. Matt knew Aoife would forget herself one day and pull the sickie card; it was the only option she had left. It came sooner than expected, just one week into their arrangement and before she had even started her voluntary work.

  “I can’t, I don’t feel well,” Aoife whined as he told her to go tog out for their run.

  “There was nothing wrong with you two hours ago when you ate a full packet of chocolate chip cookies after your lunch,” he admonished. He had warned her to go easy on the sweet stuff, that it gave her a false high, but she had defiantly scoffed the lot, almost begging him to spank her. His hand had been itching all day since then.

  “So, you were right and now I feel sick. Does that make you feel better, Dr. McDaid?” The obvious derision in her voice, and how she chose to twist her first crime to try to vindicate her second sealed her fate. Matt steeled himself: this was shit or get off the pot time. Was he man, or the mouse she took him for? Matt chose man.

  “Go to your room, strip off, and lie on the bed ready for an examination until I get there. If you’re not ready when I get there, I promise you, the exam will start with your first taste of a proper spanking. If I find you are lying, the examination will finish with a spanking. Before the night is out, you will write out I must show courtesy and respect to those who are good enough to help me one hundred times. You had better pray you won’t be writing on a hard kitchen chair with a bare, spanked bottom.” The look of horror on her face said it all. Before she scampered from the room, she lifted her mug of tea; he saw her hold it in her mouth and her face redden from the scalding liquid. Inwardly he chuckled. She thought she was being clever. Where he intended sticking the thermometer, a full mug of tea wouldn’t make much difference.

  As soon as Aoife went to her bedroom, he grabbed his emergency bag from the hall, then went to his bathroom cabinet and pulled out the Vaseline and thermometer. He’d placed them there the minute Aoife had signed her agreement, knowing she would pull any stunt to have the upper hand. He would make sure she would never fake sick again.

  “No! No way,” Aoife had protested when he placed the thermometer and Vaseline on the locker. The shock on her face said it all. She definitely had not seen this coming. He relished in the victory. She was lying on the bed, but of course she hadn’t undressed; in fact she had already pulled on her running clothes.

  “Clothes off, now,” Matt ordered, swatting her firmly on the rump.

  “Ouch,” she protested. She quickly jumped to attention.

  “Lie in the foetal position and relax, it will only take a few minutes.” Her fingers trembled as she slipped off her shorts and he got a lovely view of her cute white cotton panties. No, he would not allow himself be distracted. Aoife needed to be taught a lesson and his job was to teach it. “Take off your top too, I want to listen to your chest.”

  “No, I feel better, we can go to the gym now. Honest, it’s just my time of the month,” Aoife begged. Sheesh. Did she really expect him to fall for that? He had access to all her medical records. He knew she was using the Merino coil. Time of the month wouldn’t come into it. At worst, she might have a day or two of light spotting, but even that was not significant. He slipped on some latex gloves, enjoying the look of defeat settle on her face. With a ‘harrumph’ she flopped despondently on the bed, her face delightfully glowing with embarrassment. Before long, he was pretty sure she would have another set of cheeks burning just as brightly. He was reli
shing the thought of finally spanking some of that brattitude out of her. He had been aching to do just that from the day after she had been admitted to his care in Ealing Hospital.

  “We can’t have you exercising if you are ill, can we? What sort of a tyrant would that make me? I need to check you over first. Now you can turn around and face the wall or I will take you across my knee, your choice.”

  Aoife exhaled an angry huff of air as she turned sharply rolled into a ball. Sitting down beside her on her bed, Matt smeared Vaseline on his gloved finger and rubbed it around her tight little ring, penetrating it slightly, spreading the lubrication inside the puckered crevice much more than was strictly necessary. He intended to make this memorable. He felt her squirm and tense as she gasped.

  “Try to loosen up, it’s really very small.” He inserted the slim thermometer in place. Aoife was rigid and Matt knew she was mortified. Her breaths were short and shallow and the only sounds she made were forlorn whimpers telling of her discomfiture. He had achieved what he set out to—she wouldn’t pull that stunt again in a hurry. He left it in situ a lot longer than was needed to get his point across, all the while leaving one hand rest soothingly on her buttocks. Aoife squirmed again as he withdrew it. She wouldn’t look at him even when he was finished.

  “Temperature’s normal, now roll onto your back until I check your tummy.” Reluctantly, Aoife did as she was bid as he removed the latex gloves. He palpated her smooth round tummy, trying to focus on what he should be looking for rather than what he was looking at. He bit back the urge to tell her how gorgeous her body felt: soft, silky, and so very feminine. Her tummy felt normal. His fingers ached to roam higher, up to the deliciously curved mounds of her breasts. A soft breeze whispered across the room from the open window, making her nipples peak delightfully. They looked good enough to eat, twin cherries on top of delicious sundaes. His tongue tingled with temptation. With great difficulty, he tried to shake himself back into the now.

 

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