by Loki Renard
I search the woman’s face. “If that’s the case, why have her at all? She’s of no use to you here. There’s no point keeping operatives captive.”
“I have my reasons.”
I wait, but she does not expound upon them, so I suppose whatever those reasons are, they’re not for me to know.
“What do you want me to do with her?”
“I want you to tame her, Doctor Ares.”
“Can’t be done here. Can’t be done if she’s constantly being assaulted by your soldiers.” I almost say henchmen. I am usually very good at keeping my temper, but today has tested it on multiple fronts.
“You’re going to have to make it happen here. There are more resources than you seem to be aware of. I can give you an apartment to live in so you can be on site. I can provide some quiet areas…”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” She gives me a glare.
“You want her to act normally. No one acts normally here.”
“Miss Electra has never been allowed to mix with the general public. We are not going to break twenty years of protocol because of your demands, Doctor Ares.”
“Why hasn’t she been allowed out in twenty years?”
“Because she’s dangerous.”
“She can’t always have been dangerous.”
“Incorrect.”
“You’re saying she was choking people out cold before she was out of diapers?”
The Head’s lips thin. “What has been done, has been done out of necessity.”
“Then why are you trying to change it now? You can’t raise a person in a cage and expect them to be normal. You say she’s twenty years old now? She may never adapt.”
“She needs to be able to perform her intended function.”
“Which is?”
“You know what we do here.”
“Nobody knows what we do here,” I counter. “Least of all me.”
Ken doesn’t say much about the missions he goes on. Most of the time I don’t think he knows why he’s on them. He does as he is told. Kill this guy. Save that guy. Steal this item. Sabotage that one. He does it without question, because that’s what good soldiers do. I don’t have the same appetite for chaos and death. My job is to heal, and to protect if necessary.
“I would very much like to take her to my place…”
“She needs to be under guard. She’s far too dangerous to be at large.” The Head is adamant. In my time in this facility, I have rarely had reason to take issue with her, but in this moment I am frustrated. They have created a problem, and they won’t let me do what is necessary to fix it.
The woman’s expression softens a little. “I understand that this does not seem rational to you, Doctor Ares. There are factors at play which I am not at liberty to disclose. All I can tell you is that I do think she has a chance. I will allocate resources to create a facsimile of some kind of normality here. Show me that she can subdue her aggressive impulses. Teach her to be a decent person and we will see about letting her out one day. What I’m asking you to do is precisely the opposite of what I ask most trainers to do. She’s already a killing machine. Make her a human as well.”
“That is a tall order.”
“It is. I have already put the fourth floor aside expressly for this project. It will be ready soon. Electra has been released into a holding cell in the meantime. You can retrieve her once you have familiarized yourself with her file.”
I could tell her no. I could walk away from this now. But now I’ve laid eyes on Electra, now I’ve seen her pain, and more than that, her capacity for simple pleasure: I can’t walk away from her. Nobody here is going to give her what she needs. She’s going to get worse. And I don’t know what will happen to her then, but a life under lockdown is pretty close to no life at all.
I became a doctor to save people. This girl needs saving.
“Fine,” I say. I don’t like this. Not one bit. “Where is she now?”
Pleasure
“So that didn’t go well,” Electra smirks when I come to get her out of the same cell she was in before I took her out. I’m surprised and a little saddened that she doesn’t seem more concerned by the whole thing. This girl is used to being pounced on by droves of heavily armed men. She’s used to brutality, both as a recipient and a perpetrator.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen.”
“Yeah, they don’t tell you much here, I know that,” she shrugs. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I say. “Tell me, what did you do to get here, to be treated like this? It must have been something extraordinary.”
“I was born, Doc. That’s it. Sometimes that’s enough.”
I shake my head. She’s violent, but that’s because she’s been treated violently. I’ve dealt with some aggressive agents before. There’s not one of them that doesn't calm down and straighten up when they realize I don’t intend to hurt them.
“I have problems,” she admits. “When I get angry, I can’t stop myself. I do things. I hurt people. I tried to tell you I wasn’t allowed out.”
“You did,” I agree. “The Head is setting up an area for us. It is on-site, but I am hoping we don’t have to stay there forever.”
Electra shakes her head. “You should step away. You should get as far away from this, and me, as possible. The Head is always playing mind games with me and anyone associated with me. I’m telling you now, Doc, this is going to end badly for you.”
“You’re probably right,” I agree.
Her brows rise in surprise. “I thought you were going to tell me everything was going to be okay.”
“I can’t promise that. I can promise I’m going to do my best.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You’re a good guy, Doc. You don’t belong here. You should get out now, while you still can because I tell you now, this place is going to change you. Nobody stays good here.”
“My brother works here. He’s a good man.”
“Yeah. You think so. But I bet he’s not.”
She doesn’t know Ken, so there’s little point trying to explain what an incredibly good man he is. I don’t even bother bringing up Mary. She’s in the gray area of good if anyone ever was, not exactly a good start for an argument.
Electra
That woman has hooked this poor sap into her scheme and I just know he’s going to regret it. He is a good guy. He’s proved that several times already. He tried to break me out of this place and I’ve already decided I’m going to return the favor. I have to get him out of here. If he won’t go, then I will make him. I’m experienced at running people off and this doc is soft hearted enough that it shouldn’t take too much.
No time like the present to start being a bitch.
“Well, you can do what she wants,” I say. “But I’m not going to. So you should get out of here before I hurt you.”
He lifts a brow at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not going to do whatever it is you agreed to do. I’m not going to be a pawn in that bitch’s plan. So you should, you know. Get out of here. Because I am going to wreak havoc like I never have before, and you’ll get hurt. Everybody around me gets hurt. That’s just the way it is.”
The doctor smiles at me. That calm, kind smile, the one I definitely don’t deserve.
“You’re not going to, because I’m not going to let you.”
“Well, you’re not going to be able to stop me,” I shrug.
“Oh I think I can.”
I laugh and spread my arms, turn around and gesture at all the cages and the torture devices, the shackles and the masks and all the rest of it.
“If all this can’t stop me, you can’t, Doc.”
“We’ll see about that,” he smiles, squeezing my shoulder in a gentle, but firm way. “Come on. Let’s see what she has lined up for us.”
“Let’s not,” I grumble.
But I let him draw me out of that dungeon. I think about hitting him, bu
t I don’t. Why aren’t I hitting him? I should kick him, yeah. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll kick him right in the kidneys. But I don’t. I just follow him. My legs don’t want to kick. My fists don’t want to punch. I can’t even muster a simple headlock. I just walk behind him.
He leads me back upstairs, back to the levels of this place where they pretend like everything is normal. Everyone has gone back to their routines, stomping around full of self importance and ego. It fills me with seething loathing. Every one of their faces makes my chest tight with rage. How dare they walk around as if everything is fine? As if their lives aren’t complete and utter lies? Each and every one of them slaves to that evil witch who lives in the tower above us and toys with us like puppets.
“Come on,” the doctor takes me by the hand and leads me through them. It’s everything I can do not to just pick someone and hurt them. So many vulnerable body parts just walking by me, begging to be broken. I scan every passing person, glaring at the ones who make eye contact, not paying attention to where we are going.
Then it happens. One of them looks at me with an expression I don’t like. He has a sneering attitude, a nasty smirk I don’t care for. Also, his hair is a stupid color and has too much gel in it. That’s all the reason I need to kick my leg out and trip him, laughing as he goes sprawling, making heavy contact with the ground.
Something sharp and hard makes contact with my rear. I turn around swiftly, ready to kick the teeth out of someone’s face. Then I realize that it was the doctor. He smacked my butt. One slap. Hard enough to get my attention, not hard enough to really hurt.
“Don’t do that, Doc.”
“Don’t attack people,” he says firmly. “We’ve had enough violence for one day. Now apologize to the man.”
“I’m not going to.”
The guy has picked himself up off the ground. He’s a low level operative type. A grunt. He doesn’t matter.
“Apologize, Electra.”
The doctor’s tone has dropped. His gaze his serious. There’s no anger in his body, or his voice, but he means what he’s saying.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“Then you’re going to be spanked.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he says. He lifts his eyes to the guy I tripped. “I’m sorry,” he says. “She’s in training.”
“Yeah, okay,” the guy shrugs and walks off. He’d rather escape with what’s left of his bruised pride. Being tripped when you’re supposed to be some extra special agent is pretty embarrassing.
I smirk at the doctor. That’s one win to me. Chaos and no apology.
“Alright then, let’s deal with you,” Doctor Ares says. He reverses direction, takes me from wherever we were going and back to the medical bay. His grip on my hand remains firm until we are in one of the private rooms together. He shuts the door, puts his hands on my hips and hoists me up onto the bed, one hand on either side of me as be boxes me in. I find myself looking into his eyes, even though I don’t want to. His expression ignites me deep down in a part of me I don’t often access.
“I know you’re going to act out,” he says. “But you have to know that I intend to discipline you when you deserve it. And not the way the others have. I’m not going to chain you up. I’m not going to beat you. But I am going to spank your little butt when you need it.”
My hips squirm, and I don’t know why. I have never been spoken to like this before. I have been warned, shouted at, screamed at, lectured… I have been treated with vicious aggression and brute dominance. But it has never been like this. There was never any warmth in the voices which threatened me.
“You know you’re going to get a spanking, don’t you.” His voice is soft, but firm. “Here. Now.”
I shake my head. “That won’t do anything to me.”
Spanking, as I understand it, and as he has demonstrated so far, is merely the slapping of the buttocks with an open palm. Even done vigorously, I don’t see how it can change me, when much harsher punishments have never scratched the surface of my rage.
“Oh I think it will. Slip your pants off.”
I find myself obeying, even though I don’t believe this will do anything. I am curious though. I’m not afraid of him, or of pain. I can take a lot of hurt, and I know how to shut it out if it gets too much. Doing his bidding, I push my pants down and end up sitting there in my underwear. That feels silly, so I kick my shoes off to let my pants fall down and leave my legs bare.
“Alright,” he says, sitting in a nearby chair. “You’re going to go over my lap for this.”
“Okay?” I shrug. “This is silly, Doc. Maybe this works with normal people, but I kinda doubt it. It definitely won’t work with me.”
“Let’s see, shall we?” He beckons me over with a crooked finger, and that little tickle of excitement lights itself inside me again, not at the prospect of punishment, but at the closeness this is apparently going to entail.
I step over to him and he takes my hand, pulling me down gently over his thighs. I’ve never touched this much man before with my body. My fists and feet, kneels, elbows, teeth, they’ve all made a lot of male contact over the years, but not my thighs, my stomach, even my breasts briefly brush against his thighs as he pulls me over his lap and settles me into place.
He’s so big. So strong. He could easily be an agent like any of the others, but he’s not. He’s a healer, and his touch, even now, is comforting as his strong thighs take my weight, his big hand strokes my bottom.
I feel a sensation I haven’t felt before. Not with a man. Sometimes, alone, I’d feel this tingle, but right now it is stronger than it ever has been before, right at the apex of my thighs. The fabric of my underwear is pulled tight over my slit, and especially over the little bud of my clit. Is that intentional? Does he know what this feels like to me? Or is this another twisted act of my abnormal anatomy?
“You were a bad little girl,” he lectures, patting my bottom. “You were aggressive for no reason. You acted out just to get attention. Well, you have it now, don’t you.”
I let out a laugh. “I’m not little! And I wasn’t trying to get attention. I did it because I like hurting people.”
“Is that right,” he drawls above me. “I don’t know if anything you just said is true, no matter how much you might want it to be.”
“Oh it’s true, mister doctor,” I say, finding it a little difficult to be properly threatening from this position. There’s something about it which makes it hard for me to even take myself seriously, and then there’s the touch of his hand, that heat which sinks through the thin fabric of my underwear and lets me feel him in an almost intimate area.
“Mhm.” His strong palm lands on my cheeks a little more forcefully. There’s a hint of sting, but it’s nothing to worry me physically.
I find myself starting to relax, feeling a little smug that he would even begin to think that this would teach me anything. Doesn’t he realize how hard I am to the world? My feelings are buried so far below the surface that even I’m not aware of them. He can’t hurt me into obedience, nobody can. Pain has been my constant companion for as long as I can remember.
He keeps spanking me. The sensation builds and builds, getting hotter and more intense. It’s really only a mild discomfort, but a whine rises up in me, coming from some locked away part of my body. I feel my hips moving with an instinctive motion. The helplessness which usually accompanies discipline is here now too, but not in the same way. It doesn’t make me feel prickly and angry. It makes me feel soft and small.
The slaps keep falling, each one of them chipping away at my exterior. The heat builds, the sensation - I can’t call it pain, intensifies, my body is swept up in a wave of feeling which builds and passes over and through me. I squirm. I gasp. I make little sounds I don’t recognize and finally I find myself going soft over his thighs, the tension leaving my body.
Tom
She’s taking this so very well. I’m not spankin
g her very hard, just enough to impart color to her cheeks and heat to her seat, but it’s enough. With a girl like this, I have the feeling less is going to be more. When all she’s ever heard are shouts, a whisper might have a better chance of getting through to her. After a few minutes of lightly swatting her very deserving bottom, I pause, holding her in place.
“How do you feel?”
She answers with an incoherent little mumble, which is more than I expected anyway. Electra doesn’t have a vocabulary for anything outside the vicious and the painful. So I keep going. Not hard. Not soft. Just firm and regular. I want to teach her that there are consequences, but that discipline doesn’t have to be cruel.
I taper the spanking down slowly, until I am rubbing her panty clad bottom. She is so perfect over my thighs, giving me a kind of trust I know to be precious. I keep her there for a long time. There’s no reason to break the spell, and so I don’t. I let her stay in that, dare I call it submissive headspace. I want her to associate this with me, relaxation, safety, calmness. All of those things are no doubt entirely foreign to her.
Her hips keep moving even after I’ve stopped spanking her. They grind regularly over my lap, the curve of her thigh making what I assume must be accidental contact with my crotch. I am getting hard. I hesitate, wondering if I should stop this. Stand her up. Move the session on. Then I remember the Head’s words: she’s yours. You own her.
I know I don’t legally own her, but there’s a part of me which likes that idea very much. The ability to possess someone like Electra, to have her beautiful body open to me as it is now. She is stunning. The curve of her ass is smooth and taut and the way she moves her cheeks and hips makes my cock throb. Is it inappropriate to touch her more gently, to have my hands roam the soft cotton clad skin of her bottom? I find myself doing just that, fingers sliding under the waistband of her underwear to pull it up smooth, putting more fabric pressure against the apex of her thighs where that perfect sex of hers remains hidden from my gaze.