by Loki Renard
Richard walked over to her, lifted her out of the chair with one easy motion, and sat down in it instead.
“Let me explain to you what is happening here,” he said, pulling her between his thighs so she was standing trapped in place, his hands firm on her hips as his eyes locked with hers. “Corrective treatment usually takes a day or two at most…”
“I know,” she smirked. “I had to stay overnight in the worst hotel room ever.”
“But it can take a great deal longer,” he said, watching as the smile began to fade from her face. “I can sign off your treatment at any time I consider you unlikely to relapse into your previous antisocial tendencies,” he said. “This can take two days, or it could take two years… or it could take longer.”
Her eyes widened. “Two years?”
“In the past it was not uncommon for political prisoners to be imprisoned for decades,” Richard said. “But the treatments were not as advanced then, and society was more tolerant of crime and incarceration. At any rate, you will be here as long as I see fit. So forget about hunger strikes, or rebellions. Learn your lesson, Sophie. You will save yourself and everyone else a great deal of pain.”
She looked at him with a grave expression as she weighed what he had said with her commitment to her ideals.
“No.”
“…no?”
“No,” Sophie said. “I believe in what we’re doing. I’m prepared to suffer for it. The longer I’m here, the more people will talk. Everyone in the colony knows I am here. They’re going to have to let me out, doctor. Sooner rather than later.”
She really believed that too. Richard knew there was little point telling her anyone foolish enough to take up against the authority would be crushed like a bug. Sophie didn’t understand that the coddling she was receiving would not be extended to the lower ranks. They would be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. It was about time she got a proper taste of what it truly meant to suffer for rebellion.
Richard pulled her over his thigh, her butt bared immediately by merit of the short length of the dress that barely covered her cheeks to begin with. It took Sophie a second to catch on to what was happening; she certainly hadn’t expected to find herself in that position, he was sure of that. A day of pleasuring her naughty pussy had given her the wrong idea about corrective treatment. It was time to set her straight.
“Listen,” he said. “You have to abandon this rebellion. It will end in much worse than anything I could or would ever do to you. If the authority are not satisfied with your rehabilitation, they will remove you from society entirely one way or another.”
“I don’t care.”
“Then you will be made to care, you brat.”
He started spanking her, his palm landing on her bottom with harsh resolve and great intensity. This was not some job anymore, or even a pleasant interlude with a cute girl. It was a matter of life and death. Sophie had to understand that someone cared about what happened to her. The more she baited the authority, the harder it was going to be to protect her.
She started yowling almost immediately, her squeals sounding at a desperately high pitch. It was just a hand spanking, but she had not been physically disciplined before and she certainly didn’t know how to take it. In under a minute she was bucking and squirming, her legs kicking back and forth furiously with every hard slap that clapped against her now hot pink cheeks.
“You brute!” She twisted around to glare at him and he gave her just enough leeway for her to turn her upper body halfway toward him. It was a good opportunity to monitor the effects of his treatment. Thus far he seemed to be having an impact. Her eyes were sparkling, her face flushed. She was angry, but more than angry, she was aroused. He could see it in every line of her body, in the heat that was evident in every bit of blushing skin. Her nipples were erect. He could smell her arousal, sweet virginal juices flowing over his thigh and making a damp spot where her pussy wriggled.
Richard’s cock hardened, his desire rising. It would be so easy to bend her over the back of the chair and thrust himself inside her. He wanted to fuck her and fuck her hard, but he restrained himself. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how much she wanted it, how much her body begged for it, it wasn’t his job to fuck her. It was his job to teach her a lesson and try to save her from the tragedy she seemed determined to make real. Sophie did not learn anything from orgasms. She needed hard, sustained discipline.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed up from the chair, sweeping her into the air with one strong movement that made her squeal.
The chair was not merely aesthetically pleasing. It was functional. The padding curved over the thick back of the piece, making it the perfect spot for placing a brat in need of a spanking. He bent Sophie over it and held her in place with one hand on the small of her back as he reached for the implement he had placed on his desk.
The paddle was somewhat archaic in style, made of a synthetic leather that flexed and moved like leather, but would not degrade or crack and did not require the production of bovine animals to create. It was perfectly sized for the feminine rear, long enough to catch both cheeks in a single swat and several inches thick to ensure a good solid area of coverage.
“Doctor!” She screeched his title desperately, but the word was not enough to save her from the consequences of her behavior.
The paddle bit across her cheeks, a crack echoing through the room as a thick band of hot pink flashed across her bottom. This treatment he repeated a further five times in quick succession, keeping the same placement, searing her bottom with steady strokes.
Sophie screamed at the top of her lungs, more out of rage and offense than pain, though he was certain her bottom was not at all comfortable.
She burst into tears on the sixth stroke, her wail turning to a plaintive cry that was choked out by the onset of tears. Richard would not have allowed a little sniffling to halt the punishment, but Sophie was bawling with obvious distress that he did not think had all that much to do with her sore bottom.
This was a moment of revelation for the poor girl, who was discovering all at once and much too late in her life that not all discipline could be shrugged off, evaded, or sneered at. As one of the upper echelons, she had been raised with kid gloves, barely touched. It was very possible she had not known that her body could ache and sting in the way it currently was. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming her.
He released her and watched as she bounced up from the chair, grabbed her ass, and started jigging back and forth from toe to toe, tears streaming down her pretty face. Her green eyes sparked with wild confusion. She really did not know what had happened to her.
Richard felt a rush of pity for Sophie. The poor girl had been raised in a bubble and now she was being thrust into harsh reality under circumstances that would be difficult for anybody. He reached out and pulled her close to him, wrapping comforting arms around her shoulders.
“Shhh,” he soothed, reaching down to rub her cheeks. They were burning hot from the paddle, exuding heat into his palm. He knew the sting would already be fading. A half-dozen strokes was enough to give her a short, sharp shock, not to leave a lasting impression. “It already doesn’t hurt as much, does it?”
“That hurt,” she sobbed against his chest. “That hurt a lot.”
He held her close and rubbed her bottom and before he could stop himself, pressed a comforting kiss to her forehead. It was a natural reaction to try to soothe her a little.
“It was supposed to hurt,” he said gently. “Because what will happen if you don’t listen to me, and you don’t modify your behavior, will hurt a lot more than that. That was only six strokes with a paddle after a warm-up.”
“We’ve always been told our society doesn’t resort to brutality,” she sniffed. “You’re cruel.”
Her reaction showed how innocent she really was. A little spanking was enough to break her down. If he were to use the sort of techniques that had been used historically on
those who dissented against their governments, there was real risk of doing permanent harm.
“I don’t like you,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest and pressing close to him. He was her source of pain, but he was also her only source of comfort. Richard held her as long as she cried, until finally she pulled away, dark lashes sticking to her wet cheeks as she gazed at him with a mixture of disbelief and something else… something softer, perhaps.
“You don’t need to like me,” he said gently. “You need to realize what is really at stake here. Your life.”
“So you think I should go to the authority and recant, and make sorry statements? You think I should stay the pawn I was born as?” Her eyes flashed anger at him. “No, doctor. You can torture me if you like, but I will not be their tool again. They have used me all my life, and I will not be used anymore.”
“Sophie,” Richard sighed. “What is it going to take to get through to you?”
* * *
The doctor was looking at her as though she had two heads, but he did not understand just how desperate Sophie’s life had become, alone in her father’s house. He did not know how lonely her life was, even though people watched her every motion, copied her every hairstyle and fashion choice. She was utterly, terribly alone, and she would not go back to that way of life for anyone or anything. In twenty-four hours with the doctor, she had been treated more like a person than she had for the near two decades of her life.
All Sophie had was her defiance. Her bottom was sore and her face was laced with tears, but she knew she was not sorry for what she had done. She had done so little. Going out and socializing was not a sin, and if people were protesting because she had been imprisoned, so what? Maybe the judges should have thought about that before they picked on her.
Sophie rubbed her bottom to try to get some of the sting out of it. It felt swollen, the skin tight across her heated cheeks. She could barely believe how little time and effort it had taken for the doctor to make her body throb.
“You are of marriageable age,” the doctor said, the question rising suddenly and inexplicably. “Why have you not been matched?”
“My father does not wish me to marry,” Sophie sniffed as the doctor sat back down in the chair and pulled her back down into his lap, settling her atop his thighs rather than over them. Her stinging bottom ached against the hard plane of his muscular lap, making her squirm as she finished answering him. “Not until he finds a suitable match, and there are none on this colony.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Well,” the doctor said. “It would be ironic if the colony were to fall to revolution because of the unmet desires of one little princess.”
“That’s not what’s happening here,” she scowled.
“Are you sure? Deprived of male company, you seek out the lower echelons, where there are many men. But you do not take a mate there either… why?”
“Because they look at me like I am… some otherworldly creature. They’re afraid of me,” she snapped, frustrated. “I don’t want to make love with someone who… thinks I’m Sophie Eins.”
“You want to be seen for who you are,” the doctor said, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing that made bolts of excitement flash through her belly. He placed his hand on her bare thigh. “You want to be treated as a spirited young woman needs to be treated.”
Suddenly, fresh tears were filling Sophie’s eyes. The doctor seemed to understand. This total stranger, who was tasked with tormenting her, who had spanked her bottom until she cried, knew what her clumsy words were only barely hinting at.
She felt a wave of grief passing over her, a sadness that could not be contained.
“Why the tears, Sophie?”
Too upset to form another word, Sophie pressed her face to the doctor’s chest and cried with a deep sorrow that had never been unleashed before. It felt as though every little bit of sadness she had ever locked away was being set free in a cascade of tears that wet his shirt.
The doctor made calming sounds and rubbed her back and bottom, doing his best to soothe what felt like a completely unsoothable pain. She cried for what felt like forever, but eventually the tears stopped and Sophie started to feel a little better. She became aware of the fact that she was more or less draped over the doctor, her bare bottom exposed under the raised hem of her skirt as his large palm ranged up and down the length of her back.
“Sorry,” she said, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You don’t care about this.”
“I do care,” he said in a tone that made her believe him. “I’m not doing this to torment you. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
That was not how she saw it at all. He was a tool of the justice system, a means to an end. But maybe he did care too. Maybe he even cared for her specifically—though that seemed like a stretch. This doctor was probably used to people sobbing. His punishments were designed to elicit visceral reactions, intense responses. He probably did this a dozen times a day.
“You don’t care,” she sniffed again.
The doctor’s fingers slid underneath her chin and tilted her head up toward his face. “I care, Sophie,” he repeated in a deep baritone that seemed to sink into her very soul. She found herself believing him in spite of herself.
“I don’t even know your name,” Sophie pointed out. “How can you care about someone who doesn’t even know who you are?”
“Richard,” he said. “My name is Richard. And it’s not your job to know me. It’s your job to find a way to exist in the world without finding yourself in pain. Corrective treatment is many things, Sophie. It’s not just punishment. It’s a therapeutic treatment, which, if successful, won’t simply beat you into submission…”
“…no, it will warp my brain into thinking life is fine the way it is and stop me from causing trouble,” Sophie said, suddenly understanding why he was being so nice to her. It was all just another way of trying to get her to comply.
She pushed off his lap and pulled her dress down over her bottom, blinking the remnants of tears away. “It’s not going to work on me, doc.”
To her surprise, he smiled at her. “I’m not surprised that’s what you think,” he said. “You’ve lived a life curiously without discipline, but with social pressure in its stead. You don’t know what to make of it when I spank your bottom and tell you that there are rules to follow, and you don’t know that when I tell you I care, it’s simply because I care. It seems like another way to control you.”
“Yes,” she said. “Well, no. Stop trying to understand me!” She stamped her foot in frustration. The man was maddening. Nothing she did seemed to surprise him. Whether she was rude, or playful, or crying, or angry, he took it all in stride.
Sophie had spent a lifetime being examined, but never really being known. People knew what she had worn to her fifth birthday party, but they didn’t know a thing about what she thought, or what she cared about, or who the girl inside the dresses really was. The doctor was different. He’d already been more intimate with her than any man before, and now he seemed determined to understand her mind as well as her body. Even stranger than his desire to know her was the fact that he seemed to be making some headway.
She began to feel quite shy, standing there with her cheeks still throbbing from the hard application of his paddle.
“I want to go back to my room now.”
“You’d rather be in a cell than with me?” He chuckled. “I think we’re making some progress.” He crooked his finger at her again. “Come here, Sophie.”
“No!”
He leaned forward, wrapped his hand around her wrist, and pulled her back over his lap. He had an easy way of performing that motion that made Sophie almost feel as though she were flying until she landed over his lap.
“No!” She repeated the word, not that it did anything for her. The doctor, Richard, wrapped his arm around her waist and held her snugly against his body. She could feel the hard l
ine of his abdominal plane against her hip, and most tellingly of all, a curious hard ridge pressing against her soft curves.
He pushed the hem of her dress up over her hip and palmed her warm bottom. “Things are different here,” he said. “Here, there are rules, and there is discipline. But there is also care. For who you are, not who you’re supposed to be.”
“Tell the authority that,” Sophie snarled. “They want me back out there tomorrow, contrite and compliant.”
“Don’t worry about the authority,” Richard drawled. “Worry about me.” He swatted her bottom lightly. “I’m the one who decides your fate.”
“You’re their puppet,” she shot back. “You don’t have any more choice in this matter than I do. They pull your strings and you dance.”
Richard let out a dark chuckle. “Is that what you think, Sophie?” His fingertips drifted lightly over her hot bottom in a touch that was both soothing and exciting. “Do you think those judges who sentenced you yesterday would want me to hold you while you cry and comfort you?”
“If they thought it would make me do what they want, maybe,” she said. “They don’t care how they get their way.”
“They want you punished harshly,” he said. “They want you broken as quickly as possible. You know that. And you know that I have shown you a great deal of patience and latitude. Don’t you.”
He slapped her bottom lightly to prompt a response, which she would not give. He expected her to be grateful for what he was putting her through. Even as she laid over his lap with her bottom bare and still bright red from the application of his paddle, even as he made his claim completely clear by palming those same bare cheeks. He expected her to thank him for that.
“Go to hell,” Sophie said over her shoulder.
Richard chuckled and laid another one of those light, affectionate slaps on her bottom. “You need to watch your attitude. It’s going to cause you pain one way or another.”