Fuck, this woman is going to be the ruination of me, he thought. For as long as he had been practicing medicine, no one had ever forced him beyond his professional façade. Now he understood why he wasn’t ethically supposed to treat people he was close to. He couldn’t keep his mind on the job or his dick under control. Forcing himself to focus, Matt listened to her breathing. He moved the stethoscope around, allowing his fingers occasionally to accidentally trail her silky smooth skin as her blush heightened with each touch. Everything sounded good, although her heart was beating a little fast and her breaths were on the shallow side. Anxiety and embarrassment and her little temper tantrum would all contribute to that. But he couldn’t help wonder, did she feel it too—the electricity in the room—that chemical magnetism that propelled him to her? Did that add to the little pants she was puffing out? Was he unsettling her just as she was him? Stretching down, he pulled his sphygmomanometer out of his bag, placed it on her arm, and tried to watch it fill with air, rather than allowing his eyes to focus on the swell of her breasts as he checked her blood pressure. But try as he might, his eyes were continuously drawn back to those perfect, round swells, milky white but infused with pink where the flush that had spread out from her face.
“I can’t find anything wrong with you. You seem to be in perfect health. Stand up.”
Aoife obeyed, but looked confused as she rose. She reached to retrieve her clothes.
“Not yet, we have a little matter of your punishment to attend to,” Matt said. He straightened himself on the side of the bed. Then he patted his lap. Her eyes widened in horror and shaking her head in refusal; she quickly tried to step into her shorts, almost falling over in her haste. He took advantage of her semi-prone position to pull her across his lap, the shorts tangled around her feet only serving to prevent her getaway.
“Get the fuck off me, you pig,” Aoife shouted, panic in her voice, kicking and thrashing in an attempt to break free. Matt pinned her still between his legs grasping both arms in one hand.
“Mind your mouth, miss,” Matt warned as he spanked down on her beautiful, pale, white arse. Oh, how he loved the thwack it produced, that delightful slappy sound. His cock twitched, coming to attention. He shifted her position so it wouldn’t be pressing against her. He spanked again and again as she wriggled and fussed. Her deliciously curvaceous bottom had gone from pale to a very satisfactory shade of pink as she shouted and swore, her resistance only adding to the hunger in him.
“Stop struggling; the longer you fight it, the more I slap. You got yourself into this, now take your punishment. Remember, you agreed to this.” Aoife kicked her legs as best she could, trying to escape, but he had too firm a grip on them.
“Stop it, please, Matt. I won’t do it again.”
“That’s. Doctor. McDaid. To. You. Young. Lady,” he reminded, each word snapped out with an accompanying wallop as she writhed and yelped, then finally cried. “So what won’t you do again?
“I w-won’t lie to you,” she replied with a sob.
“I won’t lie to you, who?’ he asked with another rap.
“I won’t lie to you, Dr. McDaid,” Aoife corrected in a panic-stricken voice.
“That’s better, although I think that statement in itself is a lie. I am going to finish your punishment now. A dozen more smacks. Count them out, with no swearing and don’t move or else I start over at one again. Is that clear?”
Aoife nodded her head, heaving with held-back tears. He whacked down on her sit spot on the left buttock, she yowled and shouted out “One,” but she didn’t move. Her legs jerked involuntarily but that was all. He repeated the same on the right cheek, waiting for the count. Each of the twelve were delivered left right left right directly on that fleshy underside. It was crimson with purple fleck marks when he finished. He couldn’t help holding her for a moment and admiring his handiwork. So beautifully punished. Finally he set her free and she made a dash for the far corner of the bed, like a startled rabbit.
“Don’t you ever lie to me about your health again. Because next time, it will be a lot worse, is that clear?” She refused to answer him; shock was written all over her features. Like she couldn’t believe he had really spanked her. Matt was having a little difficulty believing it himself. Physically chastising a patient was probably not clever, although strictly, she was no longer his patient and was there as a friend in need. The three swats he had delivered previously had not prepared either of them for this.
Judging by the way her skin had reddened and blotched under the assault, her virgin ass would be feeling the aftereffects for a long time, and certainly writing her lines would be an uncomfortable experience. He couldn’t help feeling satisfaction that he had stolen one of her cherries.
“I expect you kitted out and waiting, standing attentively for me at the front door in ten minutes, unless you want another spanking,” he warned. He almost hoped she wouldn’t comply so he could scorch her arse some more, but yet for her rehabilitation to be completed, she had to learn to obey. He checked his watch and left her to dress and he went to change into his running gear. Six minutes later, he heard her enter the small hallway. He let her stew until the full ten minutes were up before joining her. He was pleased to see a much more amenable young woman meet him, all scowls and sulks now gone. Although seemingly docile now, her blotched face told the truth behind her forced compliance.
“Good girl,” he praised. “We’re upping the ante a little today—twenty minutes walk, thirty minutes jog, and ten minutes walking again. Let’s teach your body to embrace its natural drugs, rather than that crap you’ve been pumping into it.” He was delighted when there was no word of protest. Another victory.
When the run was over, Matt noticed Aoife wasn’t even much out of puff and her face was only slightly pink from the exertion. She was able for even more. Tomorrow he would up it again. His ultimate goal for her was a minimum of one hour of strenuous exercise, six days a week. If he could, he would love for her to join some sort of regular exercise club before she left his care. People who worked their bodies seemed to have more respect for them, in his view, and were less likely to pollute them with toxins. Plus, he figured a club would reawaken Aoife’s high-achieving nature and keep her toeing the line, purely from the desire to be the best.
Once they returned, Matt insisted on taking blood-pressure readings again to ensure she hadn’t been pushed too far. He sent her back to lie on her bed, but this time didn’t ask her to undress, just to take off her tee shirt so he could listen to her chest. Aoife seemed to have no difficulty complying; she was temporarily beaten.
She looked lovely as she lay there in just her bra and running shorts. Her body had a soft pink glow from exercise and a light sheen from perspiration. Matt was glad he hadn’t let her shower first. He sat on the bed and busied himself getting his medical instruments. He could smell the scent of her arousal. The spanking was now in afterglow and her amenable behaviour since had shown that submission pushed her buttons. The scent and that knowledge was driving him insane.
“Sit forward,” he commanded, creating a mental distance. No way could he listen from the front now. He warmed the stethoscope before placing it on her back. Her essence, heightened by the activity, filled his senses. Aoife’s chest was clear as a whistle, any shortness of breath already gone. He checked her pulse at her neck, and noted it was already slowed down to nearly normal. He admired the curves and how her moist, sweaty hair kissed it. Oh, how he envied those tresses, being that close to her. Being part of her. He could feel his cock stiffen and tense in his shorts for the second time that day and he shifted his position to hide his arousal and to remove himself enough so he would resist the urge to devour her.
“Well, am I fit for it, doc?” Aoife asked. Matt stiffened. For a brief moment he misunderstood her, he thought she could see into his soul. He panicked, coughed, and then breathed again as he realised his error.
“Dr. McDaid. Yes, tomorrow we run rather than jog,” he managed to force out. To him his
voice seemed high-pitched and flustered. He wondered if Aoife noticed.
“Tomorrow I will also do that exam you are due. You’ll come to the hospital after rehab. And now I am going to grab a shower then prepare some dinner. You may shower, but just put on your pyjama tops or a tee shirt and bathrobe. After dinner you have some lines to write.”
He left before she could protest. And before her delicious, feminine, heady scent drove him to do something he would definitely regret.
Chapter Six
Hate was a new emotion to Aoife. Even when she considered her parents, the strongest emotion seemed to be scorn, or bitterness. But right now she was pretty damn sure she hated Matt McDaid as he sat opposite her, watching her squirm on his hard dining chair as she wrote out her lines.
She handed him over the first sheet with ‘I must show courtesy and respect to those who are good enough to help me’ hurriedly scrawled out twenty times. He looked it over and then looked over the top of the page at her. She knew it was full of spelling mistakes; when she was under pressure, she got confused. She waited for him to berate her for it, her dander up.
“By rights, I should bin this for sloppiness. You had better neaten up, unless you want to start over.”
“That’s not fair. You know I can’t help it.”
“Aoife, I don’t give a damn if your letters are backwards, upside down, or what the spelling is like. What matters is the attitude with which it was undertaken and we both know you’ve bashed this out from anger. A new line should get a new line; if you don’t like what you’ve written, you don’t need to scribble it out until the page tears. I’m not asking for perfection. I just want a real effort.”
She wanted to choke him. Bastard. But she wouldn’t. Nor would she even whisper a word of discontent. She was way too exposed, sitting across the table from him in nothing but a short tee shirt. She was dying for a glass of water but there was no way she was standing up in her state of undress. Absolutely everything below the waist was on display. She wondered when he had developed his cruel sadistic streak—it was certainly new to her. Her hand ached as she neatly penned the remaining eighty lines and handed them over page by page, terrified he might reject them. Just as she was on the last page, he told her she had some more lines. She wanted to cry as she handed over the last page of the first lot.
“This time you will write: Rectal temperature is not affected by gulping hot tea.”
“That’s not fair, I wasn’t trying to…”
“Don’t take me for a fool, Aoife. I saw you gulping your tea.”
“Miserable, uptight, control-freak bastard,” Aoife muttered under her breath. But unfortunately not quite quietly enough. He rose and crossed to her side of the table. Aoife rose to run, but he was way ahead of her and grabbed her as she kicked the chair back.
“What did you say?” he asked. Aoife denied all. He pushed her across his dining chair and spanked her already throbbing behind five times more, repeating each word of the insult with each swat, ignoring her screams and begging.
“You haven’t learned a lot about respect after all; you can repeat those lines another two hundred times tomorrow night. Now get on with the next ones.” His face was red with fury as she sat on her even more scorched ass. Hatred didn’t even touch how she was feeling right now; murderous was closer to it. He sat down next to her this time, watching over her shoulder as she wrote out the new, humiliating line. Each time she wrote rectal, she relived the horror of him inserting that thermometer in her bottom, squirming with shame and degradation. She was damn sure he knew that too, as he had her repeat each line as soon as she finished writing it out. She wondered if he planned on living a long healthy life, because right now, the odds were not in his favour.
Even after the lines were finished, she couldn’t leave—as long as Matt stayed sitting, Aoife did too. She had to. The exhibitionist in her got a bit of a weird kick being half naked and watched and in spite of the humiliation of calling out that line over and over, her pussy had started to weep—lightly, but weep nonetheless. She knew if she got up off the chair, there would be a little pool of creaminess underneath her bottom. And no way was she going to let Matt see her wash it clean. Finally, he left the table, clearing the way for her to get a drink of water and go to bed.
* * *
Aoife gingerly extricated herself from her nice warm bed. Examining her bottom in the full-length mirror, she was amazed to see there were absolutely no aftereffects of the spanking, save for a slight pink hue on the underside of each bottom cheek, the tender spots where he seemed to favour as he spanked. She was almost disappointed. She had wanted to be able to throw it in his face, how he had battered her until she was black and blue. Now she was denied that ammunition.
Sluggishly, she dragged herself to the bathroom and dragged on her running clothes. It felt like the bloody army. Who the hell got up at six-thirty to go for a goddamn run? But his lordship, bringer of all evil, had insisted. She was starting her voluntary work and he who called the shots said she had to exercise before work. Annoying, pushy bully. She was tempted to hit the snooze button and roll over and steal another half an hour in bed. Matt would most likely still be sleeping; it was earlier than his normal wake-up time and he had said nothing about going with her. She could take a shorter route, and he would never know. Aoife headed straight for the front door without bothering with breakfast; her body hadn’t woken up enough for her to be able to face food.
“Aoife, get in here,” Matt shouted as she turned the door handle. Fuck and double fuck. What the hell is he doing up at this hour? Dammit, what has a woman to do to get a little trust around here?
“You can’t run on empty.”
“I haven’t time to let it digest either, it will make me feel sick,” she countered.
“Sit down. Now,” he insisted. The toaster popped and he handed her two slices of wholemeal toast and a banana. “This will keep you going; you may wait for your porridge until after the run.” Stupid porridge! Aoife hadn’t intended eating any breakfast there that morning. The shorter route she planned was to give her time for a chocolate croissant and double espresso on her way to that hell-hole Matt was forcing her to attend.
“I hear they are looking for a new dictator in North Korea, you fit the bill perfectly.” Aoife muttered, her brain not awake enough to see the folly of her words. Fortunately he let it pass; in fact, there was almost a hint of a smirk on his face as he replied:
“Thank you. Now eat, unless you want a spanking to spread on your toast.”
Aoife used her knife to smash the banana down on top of her toast, taking all her anger and frustration out on the innocent piece of fruit. She wished it were Matt’s head. She angrily bit into her food and swallowed it without chewing.
Aoife did the entire three miles route in less than forty minutes, running half of it, a new record for her. Although Matt ran alongside her, she didn’t speak to him, nor did he to her. She gritted her teeth and got on with her torture. She wondered how he intended to torment her for the remaining twenty minutes.
“You’ve done enough for this morning. Go back to the apartment at a slow pace to cool down, then get ready for work. I’m doing another mile but I’ll be back on time to bring you to the rehab clinic. Do not leave without me.”
Of course you will, she thought. God forbid that I might not go. And bang goes my café stop. She was sick at the prospect of the day ahead, and Matt knew it but he didn’t seem to care. Aoife knew she should be eternally grateful to Matt for all he had done for her, including taking time off work, and she was, but just once in a while, she wished he could show a slightly more human side. For a doctor, his bedside manner sucked. While she was waiting for Matt to return, Aoife heard her phone ping with an incoming text.
“Wishing you well today. Don’t over-stress about it.”
No name, and a number that she didn’t recognise, but there was only one other person who knew Matt’s plans for her and that was her psychiatrist. Aoife smi
led. He was a kind man. He knew how anxious she was. Aoife had never expected that she would be able to open up to anyone like she had with him, but something about him was so approachable, so understanding. If only he were twenty years younger and single. Or better, if only he were Matt! Aoife almost envied Paul’s wife, another first as she was dead set against marriage of any sort. She had seen first-hand what it could do to people. She wished she could talk to Matt like that. She would even settle for being able to talk to him like she used to, back when they were kids, when he told her his problems and he supported her learning difficulties. Of course back then, she had still lied to him, pretended everything was fine, but he had known how hard it was for her, even though she wouldn’t admit it. Now Aoife was older and ready to talk, Matt never questioned her. He just assumed she was a spoiled little madam after her next high. He looked after her physically and he sacrificed his time, but he never once asked her why. The old Matt would have wanted to help more than her body, he would have wanted to help her soul. She missed that.
Aoife missed Fiona too. It was definitely time to see if she could fix things there. Aoife knew the only person to blame for the breakdown in that friendship was herself. Fiona had given her so much support, and Aoife had given her nothing but grief and worry.
When Matt didn’t turn up by the time she should be leaving, Aoife panicked a little. She knew the location and that she was to report to Doctor Steward. If she didn’t leave she was going to be late, but if she left without Matt’s approval, she risked his wrath. Either way, she could end up with a toasted butt and a spanking from Dr. McDaid was not a prospect to take too lightly. In the end, she decided to leave without him on the grounds that if she didn’t stick to her program he would be much angrier. When she sent him a text to explain her decision, his phone beeped right there in the apartment. At that point she became concerned, and sent him another text for his return.
The Right Treatment Page 6