Corrective Treatment

by Loki Renard

  “You cause me pain one way or another,” Sophie muttered. The position left her head dangling toward the floor, blood rushing to it as she squirmed over his lap. She did not trust this doctor. No matter how nice he seemed, he worked for the authority. She had heard the president himself barking orders at him.

  The slaps started to fall again, not as hard as the paddle had, but they didn’t need to be that hard. Her bottom was already tender and she was emotionally primed to feel every slap that landed on her naughty cheeks. Sophie had never felt so small or so completely contained before. Though she tried desperately to remember that she was really a prisoner of political conscience, the doctor made her feel as though she were really his. A personal captive who was having her bottom spanked because she deserved it.

  In less than an hour, Richard had shown more understanding of her than anyone had in her entire life. And now he was reinforcing it with discipline that was just hard enough to make her blood flow to her loins. He had not touched her there this time. He almost seemed to be avoiding doing so. Perhaps to tease her. Perhaps to show her that it was not a matter of her desire. She didn’t know. All she did know was that within a few slaps, her hips were wriggling and her clit was tingling and her thighs were starting to part of their own accord.

  “You want to come, don’t you, Sophie.”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Yes, you do,” he said. “I can see your lips swelling. I can see the moisture starting to trickle between your lips. You’re an active, passionate woman who needs someone to unleash your desire. Until you have that, you’re going to keep finding trouble.”

  It was like the bailiffs had so crudely said. She needed a good fucking. But the doctor was not fucking her; he was teasing her with his words while he spanked her bottom. Sophie had not known that it was possible to orgasm simply from being spanked, but she found herself close as the doctor’s palm fell harder and faster, pushing her against his lap. She was being spanked like a naughty girl and her body was living for it, her inner walls contracting against some invisible manhood. She would have taken any penetration in that moment—a finger, a probe, the doctor’s own hard cock—but nothing entered her yearning pussy. She was left to grind herself to orgasm over the doctor’s thighs, humping him like a little bitch in heat as she stole pleasure from punishment.

  “Oh… oh, my… oh…” she moaned as the illicit climax began to build.

  “Come, Sophie,” the doctor urged, spanking her with hard, sharp swats that would have been impossible to bear if not for the fact that her whole body was taut with need. The arousal absorbed the pain, turned it into fuel for her inner fire, for the climax that was making her pussy quiver and her muscles shudder and finally left her panting and wailing over his lap in a wanton display of parted thighs and grinding hips.

  He cupped her pussy as her orgasm faded, patting it affectionately. “Okay, Sophie,” he said, smoothing his hand over her hot bottom and pussy and back again. “Time for you to go to your room and think about how things are going to be. Do you want to resist this treatment and be a prisoner here for a very long time? Or are you going to be receptive to what I have to teach you?”

  He helped her to stand and she avoided his gaze, feeling his eyes on her flushed face as her bottom tingled and throbbed. The little cell did not seem like such a bad place now. At least it would be private enough to give her a second to compose herself. Her mind felt addled by the doctor’s presence. Her clit was still throbbing, and though she had come, she was not entirely satisfied. How could she be when her pussy remained unfilled?

  Unaware, or perhaps indifferent to her ongoing desire, the doctor reached out and pressed a button on the intercoms. “Nurse, escort Miss Eins to her cell.”

  The nurse appeared so quickly Sophie suspected the woman had been lurking outside the door the whole time. She left the doctor and followed the nurse back to her cell. Nothing was said. The nurse was cool and professional, much like the doctor had been before he started putting things deep inside her. Sophie watched as the woman opened her cell and stepped inside it without any argument.

  Alone, Sophie walked around the little room, rubbing her bottom and trying to clear her head. Her body was in turmoil, excitement rushing through her veins like fire. She was aroused beyond belief. The doctor’s ministrations had left her hungry for his touch, but essentially unsatisfied.

  She lay down on the bed, feeling the pressure against her paddled and spanked bottom as not entirely unpleasant. Her fingers drifted down the simple dress to find her thighs and raise the hem, and touch, tentatively, the very outside of her lower lips…

  “Psst!”

  Sophie started up and looked around, her face flaming with embarrassment. There had definitely been a voice coming from somewhere. She just wasn’t sure where. The door was as closed as it had ever been, and there wasn’t anybody else in the room, she was sure of that.

  “Move the mattress, princess,” the voice advised her in muffled tones.

  Sophie pulled the mattress to the side and saw a thin ventilation grille down the side of the bed, near the wall-mounted frame. Someone was on the other side of that grille, talking to her. Sophie bent down, red ass in the air as she tried to peer through. She couldn’t see a thing, there was just darkness on the other side, but there was definitely someone there.

  “Who is this?”

  “Don’t worry about who I am. Just worry about getting out of here,” the voice said. “We have a plan to extract you, but you need to do some things first. The doctor has taken you to his office. You need to get back there, and you need to take the pass card that opens these cells.”

  “How do you know I’ve been to the doctor’s office?”

  “That’s not important,” the voice said, somewhat impatient. “Do you understand, you need the pass card. Without it, there are too many doors between you and freedom.”

  Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. Was this truly happening? Had some of her supporters banded together to rescue her?

  “Is that you, Marco? Or is it Thompson?” She guessed at names of the laborers she had met in the lower echelons.

  “We’re not going to be able to do names, princess,” the voice repeated. “Let me know when you have the card.”

  “But how do I…”

  The door to her cell began to open. Sophie hurriedly shoved her mattress back into place and sat on it.

  “The doctor wants you to eat lunch,” a nurse announced. She came bearing a sandwich, a glass of milk, and a couple of sweet treats. “You’re lucky,” she said as she handed the tray to Sophie. “Not many of our guests get this VIP treatment.”

  Sophie looked at the woman. She was young, but a laborer. Sophie felt a pang of compassion for the nurse, who had to work for everything she had. Sophie could only begin to imagine what it must be like to have to perform tasks in return for food and shelter and clothing. How horribly menial it all was.

  “I’m here because I want everyone to get the VIP treatment, not because I think I’m better than you,” she said with compassion.

  “You’re here because you’re a spoiled little rich girl who thinks it’s cute to slum it with the laborers,” the nurse replied with an expression that was only a little way short of a sneer. “We don’t need help from the likes of you. We’re not charity cases. And our homes and communities aren’t tourist locations for rich people either. Take your watered-down punishment and go back to your big house and your money, Sophie. The laborers don’t want you and don’t need you. You’ve caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people.”

  Sophie’s jaw could have unhinged, it dropped that low. The nurse’s hostility caught her entirely off-guard. What was wrong with this horrible woman?

  “Why are you being so rude to me?”

  “I’m not being rude to you,” the nurse said. “I’m being real. You’ve probably never heard it before because everybody is afraid of you.”

  “Afraid of me? Why!?”

  “Beca
use you’re powerful, you silly girl,” the nurse said. “Everyone you meet outside this place knows that it would take one word from you and they’d be thrown into the mines. But in here,” the nurse’s eyes narrowed with a grim sort of satisfaction, “in here you get a little taste of what’s actually real. And the truth is, you’re a silly, spoiled little girl who is being used.”

  “Used by who?”

  The nurse rolled her eyes. “Wake up, Sophie.”

  With that unhelpful remark, the woman turned and shut the door, leaving Sophie alone with her sandwich and her confusion.

  She pulled the mattress back. “Are you there?”

  There was only silence from the dark grille. The voice was gone. She was alone.

  Chapter Five

  The next day found Sophie sitting in a medical examination room different from any she’d been in before. It contained a flat bed and a little toilet en suite and not a whole lot more. A nurse had ushered her in and left her there to await her fate. Sophie didn’t know what to expect, or what to think. Everything was all topsy-turvy. All the things that had seemed so clear and obvious before being sentenced to corrective treatment now seemed to be in doubt.

  “Don’t let them brainwash you,” she chided herself. “They’re trying to break you. This is all part of their job.”

  Even the voice in the grille, she couldn’t be sure of that either. Was it someone trying to help her get out? Or was it some kind of trick played by a nurse to humiliate her? Should she try to steal the doctor’s pass card?

  Even without her alleged ally behind the grate, it did seem like a good idea. Having a way out of her little cell would give her some kind of control. She might even be able to make an escape from the whole facility—that had certainly never happened before. As far as Sophie knew, once people went into corrective treatment, they stayed in corrective treatment until they were released. If she was to make an escape, that would show people just how irrelevant the authority really were—and just how much she didn’t care about playing their little games anymore.

  Of course, according to the nurse, nobody really cared. She was just a spoiled, irrelevant little brat getting her comeuppance. Was that really what people thought? Sophie didn’t know. Living in a prison was making her question herself, and that was almost more painful than any of the punishments she’d been dealt by the doctor.

  The door opened and there he was. The doctor. Richard. For a second, all the air went out of the room and all the thoughts cleared out of her head. He was so handsome. His eyes pierced her very soul, seeming to pick up the tumult of her thoughts. He was tall, powerful and there she was, in a thin cotton gown, vulnerable to his intentions.

  “Hello, Miss Eins,” he said with a charming smile that made her stomach burst into butterflies. “Did you sleep well?”

  She’d not slept at all, truth be told. She’d tried, but thinking the voice might come through the wall again, fantasizing about escaping from the facility and other, more confusing thoughts about the doctor himself had conspired to keep her awake.

  “You’re quiet today,” he noted when she didn’t reply. “Are you not feeling well?”

  Sophie shrugged.

  “Corrective treatment is stressful, as is incarceration,” he noted. “Taking the fact that you’ve not been eating well into account… I think I’d better give you another examination.”

  “I don’t want to be strapped into a chair again!”

  “We can make this a little simpler,” he smiled. “Turn over and lie on your stomach. I’m going to take your temperature.”

  Sophie let out a little whine, but she knew well enough that if she did not do as she was told, she would be put into position, probably with a sore bottom. She squirmed around on the bed until she was lying stomach down, her face turned toward him. At the lower angle, she had a good view of his crotch. Her eye was naturally drawn there, but she spotted something else in the pocket of his pants—a pass card. It was almost too good to be true. The item her informant had told her about was sitting right there, just inches away from her as the doctor stepped closer, pushed her dress up, and palmed her bare bottom.

  She felt his strong hand parting her cheeks and a dab of cool lubricating gel touching her tight little bottom hole. Sophie gasped and her hand shot out, grabbed the card, and retracted under her body in one smooth movement.

  Distracting the doctor with her anus had not been the plan, but it seemed to have worked. Sophie tucked the card underneath her other armpit. As long as she kept it pressed against her body, she might actually get away with stealing it.

  “Settle down and relax,” the doctor murmured in response to her flailing. His fingertip was lightly massaging her anus, pressing against the tight ring of muscle with a motion that was soothing and exciting at the same time. Every time he touched her, Sophie’s body responded with a cascade of reactions that made her heart beat faster, her breath come quicker, her blood flow between her legs to the lips that were already swelling with arousal even though he had not touched her there and did not seem inclined to.

  Sophie felt the hard little tip of the thermometer pressing against her bottom hole. A moment later it slid smoothly in a couple of inches, held firmly by the doctor’s thick fingers. He held it there for what seemed like forever, the hard intrusion keeping her in place as her bottom clenched and her pussy welled with need. There was silence in which Sophie could hear only her breath, short little gasps that she could not seem to slow thanks to the doctor’s touch, his fingers sliding down the crevice of her cheeks toward her pussy.

  Wanting some relief from the building arousal, Sophie angled her hips down, pressing her clit hard against the table, grinding her little bud against the unyielding surface.

  “Stop that,” the doctor chided gently, swatting her bottom. “This is not for your pleasure, and exciting yourself will raise your temperature.”

  “I’m not exciting myself,” Sophie muttered. “I’m uncomfortable because you’re sticking things in my butt.”

  “Settle,” the doctor drawled. “The more you move, the longer the thermometer stays in.”

  Sophie stilled her movements. He was right. It was not time for pleasuring herself. She had illicit cargo on board and she needed to get this procedure over with quickly. A few moments later, the doctor withdrew the thermometer.

  “Your temperature is a little elevated,” he said. “And judging by the sensors in your cell, you’ve not been using the toilet very much either. I think you need an enema, young lady.”

  An enema. Sophie wasn’t even sure what the word meant.

  “Stay lying down,” the doctor said. “Lie on your side, actually, knees toward your chest.”

  More concerned with keeping the card in place than asking what an enema was, Sophie complied. The hard edges of the card against her inner arm felt comforting, a reminder that she had some control over what would happen next. They had her where they wanted her for now, but soon she would be free and they would all be in disgrace.

  The doctor called for enema supplies. They arrived with a just barely not smirking nurse—the same one who had shared her less than complimentary opinion the day before. Sophie cut her eyes at the woman, but said nothing, preferring instead to focus her attention on what the woman had brought with her. There was a bag full of some kind of liquid with a long coiled tube that led to a nozzle around four inches long.

  “Would you like me to insert the enema, doctor?” The nurse’s eyes glinted evilly in Sophie’s direction.

  “No, nurse, you are dismissed,” the doctor said, barely noticing the woman. The nurse disappeared.

  “What’s all that equipment for?” Sophie asked the question more out of a desire to keep him distracted from the fact his pass card was missing than any real interest in the procedure.

  “The nozzle goes into your bottom, and the liquid goes into your bowels,” he explained. “It helps soften any hardened stools and gets the system going again.”

  Sophi
e’s eyes widened. He wanted to wash her bottom out! “I don’t think… I don’t need…”

  “Just relax,” he said, his palm smoothing over her bottom once more. This time there was no little thermometer going into her bottom. The nozzle was much thicker, more along the lines of a very hard, unyielding, wide finger.

  Sophie let out little gasps as the doctor slowly worked the nozzle into her bottom, taking care to use plenty of lubricant, which made the plastic slide easily between her cheeks and through her tight little anus. She had been exposed to many indignities since arriving at the corrective treatment center, but none as deeply embarrassing as having her bottom penetrated this way. She could feel her blush extending all the way to her hairline.

  “Very good,” he said, seating the nozzle in place deep in her rear. “That should stay in without too much trouble. Keep your muscles relaxed and don’t push.”

  As the water started to flow, she let out a little moan of despair. She could feel a slow trickle inside her, the oddest sensation that was simultaneously embarrassing and somehow arousing. Her bottom hole was wrapped around the enema nozzle, her insides being slowly filled with fluid. With every passing moment she became fuller and soon her stomach began to cramp in protest, making her plaintive sounds reach a higher pitch of discomfort.

  “It hurts,” she complained.

  Richard’s palm ran over her stomach under the dress as he made a soft soothing sound. “There can be some minor cramps,” he said. “Let’s distract you from them, shall we?”

  Sophie didn’t think she could be distracted, not until his fingers slid down over her bare pubic mound and found her pussy lips wet and slippery with her own natural lubrication.

  “You are so responsive,” he said warmly as he caressed her pussy lightly, petting her with soothing, arousing strokes. “Such a good patient.”

  His praise was pleasing. His touch was definitely distracting. Sophie’s clit had grown to a hard little nub between her pussy lips, a bud he almost touched but somehow managed to avoid with each passing swipe of his fingers.