It seemed wrong to punish her on behalf of the Brotherhood or the cunt-faced guards that she wanted to escape from. I understood exactly why she’d tried. But at the same time, in doing so, she’d put her life in danger, and that was a reason to punish her that I could get behind. I wanted her to survive this fucked-up place and get out. I needed her to. So, she had to avoid putting her life in danger like that again.
I opened the door of my room and pushed her inside, ahead of me. The whole way there, I was too aware of how hard it was for her to make her legs move. The women were attached to electrical pulse machines for a half-hour each day, to ensure they had enough muscle tone to survive pregnancy, but two years of not leaving her bed had left her barely able to stand. I helped her to the bed and threw some pillows down, then got her arranged so her ass was pushed in the air. I put another pillow beneath her head, so she had something to rest her face on, because I doubted her neck was currently strong enough to take much of her upper body weight, which ruled out my preferred spanking position of ass in the air, shoulders on the bed, hands supplicated above the submissive’s head.
“I’m going to punish your bottom outside and in, to ensure you never put your life at risk like that again,” I told her. Her face was turned toward me, and I caught her horrified expression. I hated having to make her fear me. It wasn’t fair. She was too soft.
I knew that if I didn’t, the Brotherhood would kill us both, now that I’d involved myself. The bastards were probably watching the cameras right now, eating their farmed meat and laughing at her fear as I appeared to threaten her. If only the BSE outbreak in Novara had killed them all across the continent.
Hardening my heart, I pulled a tube of medical-grade lubricant out of the pocket of my lab coat—or was it a doctor’s coat, if I practiced medicine, now?—and twirled the small cap. I squeezed the metal tube along one finger, as though the lube were toothpaste. How would she react if this was toothpaste? The idea of her squirming on my bed with mint freshening her back passage was delicious, but I pushed it away. Wrong side of the line. I couldn’t go there while we were both prisoners at a forced breeding facility. As her doctor, my goal with this punishment was to keep her alive, not to fuck her brains out.
Instead, I parted her cheeks and touched the tip of my finger to her rosebud. She froze, holding her breath and not blinking. When I glanced at her face, her eyes were glassy and unfocussed. I had to get her out of here. I pushed my finger into her, and noticed her soft gasp as my finger penetrated her silky rear. More than anything I had ever touched, I loved the sensation of a woman’s bottom clamped around me. It was hard not to exchange my finger for my cock. I tried to drag my mind out of the gutter, but she was so pliant, so fuckable, so pure white, that it was impossible not to think about all the things her body screamed for. Slowly, I pulled my finger back out of her, so only the first knuckle was in, then I swiftly plunged my whole digit as deep as it would go, forcing her to yield to me. She moaned. Trying to remain detached, I repeated the movement, and this time, when I thrust into her bottom, her passageway pulsed around me. Her body had quickly responded to being treated like this. I pumped my finger in and out several more times, savoring the extreme tightness. Clearly, her rear was uncharted territory. The thought made my cock ache with the need to claim her. My dominant side told me not to care that the Brotherhood watched this room. The only thing my mind processed was the hot, submissive, twenty-year-old redhead prostrated before me with her bottom hole speared on my finger.
I reached down for my belt and unbuckled it, then looked at her ass. I wanted to kiss it.
There was a knock at the door, and it brought my senses back before I got us both killed by showing her—and the Brotherhood—that I cared.
Sliding my finger out of its natural habitat, then cleaning it with a sterile antiseptic wipe, I went to the door.
The guard had a knowing grin on his face.
“The rope, the ginger, and the plug, Doctor Weston,” he said. I was about to shut the door but the guard stuck his foot in the way. “The high-ups are getting a free show watching you punish her. I want a front-row seat. Maybe there’ll be an opportunity for some audience participation.” The way he said it made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t refuse the guards when they told me to do anything. I was as much of a prisoner here as the breeding women.
“I only have one chair. It’s all yours,” I said gruffly. I stood aside, feeling a little sick that the guard was going to be in the room. It meant I could give Isla nothing, not a kind look, or a reassuring sound, or a warm touch, or any of the other little gestures that a camera wouldn’t detect when I had my back to it. I hated that.
I decided the best way to show I meant business was to start hard and work upward from there, so I bound her wrists and ankles separately, and not especially tightly, in the sort of rope work that looked a lot worse than it was. Then, since my belt was already unfastened, I slid it through the loops of my pants and folded it in half, grasping the leather firmly in my right hand. Standing to one side of Isla, I steadied her with my left hand then brought the belt down hard. The crack filled the room like a gunshot, and she gasped several times before apparently getting a handle on the pain. I realized with sadness that accepting pain was a regular part of her life, and she’d learned how to deal with it. A pink line emblazoned both cheeks before I brought the belt down again. She shook against the rope but still didn’t cry out. Perhaps she didn’t know it was an option, because she was obviously in a lot of pain. I had spanked bottoms before, and I knew exactly how hard that belt had landed.
“Push your bottom up,” I told her, and watched her try to obey me. She was feisty, sure, but she was also very obedient. How both traits coexisted in the same girl was a mystery.
With her ass up in the air, I easily landed the belt straight across the lowest part of her rear, where her soft cheeks met her thighs. As soon as the leather touched her skin, she squeaked then abruptly silenced herself. I allowed my eyes to drink in the sight of her pure white flesh punctuated with red. She was so beautiful when my belt marked her. I wished we’d met under a brighter sky, but it was what it was. Stoically, I swung the belt again, and again, diligently covering her bottom and upper thighs with red welts. All the while, I was very aware of the guard’s eyes on us both. When I threaded my belt back through the loops of my pants, the guard stood up and went to unfasten his own belt.
“My turn, now.” The guard’s piggy eyes were getting even smaller as he spoke. I hated the man already. He had the look of a depraved lunatic, and I knew I had to do something to stop him before he hurt Isla. But how could I prevent the guard from taking action without proving that I was soft on the girl?
“No,” I warned him abruptly, hoping my stern tone would be enough.
It wasn’t, and the guard’s expression turned to pleading.
“Why not?” the small man wheedled. “I was the one who found her first.”
It was like trying to argue chocolate with a six-year-old. I hurriedly cast my mind around in search of a good enough reply. My experience taking care of sick people came to the fore.
“Doctor’s orders,” I replied authoritatively. “Remember me saying I’d wanted to train a girl for a long time? The process I have in mind is one that has to be followed strictly. Any change to my plan, and I won’t know if your way worked or if mine did.” I gave the man a winning wink then patted him on the shoulder, but my stomach lurched at even pretending we were co-conspirators. “Don’t worry, friend, you can have what’s left of her when I’m done.” You’ll like that more, won’t you? I added to myself. I’d seen the guard’s type before. Sick, twisted, probably ripped the wings off butterflies as a child. I wanted to tear the guard’s head off and make him eat it. I knew it was physically impossible, but I still wanted to do it. My anger wasn’t logical or rational; it was protective and dominant. I hungered to claim Isla for my own, and to fight any man who looked at her the wrong way.
“What’re you going to do next?” The guard spoke as though we were equal coworkers, rather than a doctor and something a doctor might step in. I decided to humor him, since I couldn’t get rid of him.
“Remember you got me a butt plug?” I asked.
The guard nodded. I broke into a wide grin.
“What about the ginger? How are you going to use that?” The guard raised his eyebrows as though he already knew. I tried not to frown. There was no way in hell I would let the guard see Isla at her most vulnerable, being punished in such a humiliating way. I shook my head.
“It’s to put on my dinner. Been ages since I got my hands on some fresh ginger,” I lied. The guard seemed to accept this grudgingly.
“Shame, I was hoping you’d put it somewhere else,” he whined.
I summoned my best doctor face and looked stern. “Young man, ginger is not to be trifled with. It’s very dangerous. You would kill her if you used it wrong.” I hoped it was enough to make the guard forget about it, but the weasel persisted.
“That’s not what my dad said,” the guard argued.
“Is your dad a doctor?” I demanded, still looking stern as I towered over the guard. The man shriveled and took a step back.
“Well… no… but…”
“Precisely. The sodium chloride and hyaluronic acid in ginger is a deadly combination.” I tried not to laugh at the blatant misuse of science. Those compounds weren’t especially prevalent in ginger, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be harmful.
“Oh… well… never mind, then,” the guard said.
“Why don’t you just”—fall off a cliff and drop dead, I thought to myself, but I caught my words before I spoke them—“sit yourself back down and enjoy the show?” I suggested.
Once the guard was no longer directly interfering, I continued. I got the lube back out and smeared it over the plug, then pressed it against Isla’s tight bottom hole. A sharp intake of breath was the only sign she gave that she had felt anything.
When I pushed the plug inside Isla, I imagined I was slowly working my cock into her ass, instead; pushing the tip in, inch by inch, as her tight and silky bottom hole pressed against it from all sides. A haze washed over me, and I wished I’d worn bigger pants. It became almost impossible to focus on making this look like a convincing punishment. The girl was just too damn hot, too completely helpless… too utterly submissive. My untamed inner dominant was suffocating because I couldn’t let myself out to play with her, tease her, make her mine until she came over and over again. I wouldn’t allow myself to do it until she wanted me to. If she ever did. How could she, though, after this?
I pushed the plug in deeper, past its widest point, and she began to cry. Trying to detach from this heartbreaking situation, I told myself this was just another medical procedure, but my heart knew otherwise. The plug found its place and I gave her bottom a resounding swat for good measure. I turned to the guard.
“Now we leave her like that,” I said, corralling the other man out of the room. I only went across the hall to get some coffee. People were watching her and listening to my words. I needed to prove I didn’t care, because I did care, far too much.
I hadn’t really had a plan when I tried to escape. As I knelt on the doctor’s bed, alone, with a plug in my ass, I decided that perhaps it had possibly been a little bit of a mistake. I didn’t know what else he was going to do to me, or if I would survive the rest of this punishment, but right now I was very scared. What had made it worse was the guard, sitting on a chair and watching. I’d been afraid that he would get involved. The guards were horrible. Every time the man tried to do anything, though, the doctor had stopped him. That scared me more. What darker plans did he have for me? It would have almost been easier to process this if he just outright fucked me then left me for the guard, but he didn’t, and I didn’t understand why.
I’d thought the doctor was approachable when I was in my hospital bed, but perhaps the medication made my brain really naïve or something, because now, it was becoming clear that he was just as bad as the rest of them. He’d whipped my rear with his belt and even several minutes later, it still radiated heat. The plug in my ass was nothing short of fucked up. It gnawed at my insides and stretched me sorely. Even his finger had been an enormous intrusion. Nothing had ever been inside my ass before today.
When he returned, I didn’t look up. There was no point. He would do what he wanted and I was powerless to change his mind. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t dead right now. Actually, given some of the things that happened to dissidents in Telona, being dead might be a relief.
Everyone knew that the government had a special device that erased every aspect of a person’s brain and replaced it with a new personality. However, I’d heard very quietly whispered rumors that it only had a very low success rate, and the rest of the time, people were left as blank vegetables. When that happened, if a woman was of breeding age, she was then sent to a breeding center like this one. We didn’t really need to be able to think, here; in fact, it was a huge disadvantage if we could. I was living proof of that. For now.
Please don’t turn me into a vegetable, Lord Francis. I promise I’ll do better at accepting this life you gave me. In the middle of throwing out the quick plea, something occurred to me. It was so bad that I hardly dared think it. Lord Francis, the ruler of Telona, allegedly knew everything we said or did. Everyone said he was so powerful, he even heard our thoughts. But what if he didn’t? When had he ever done anything I’d asked? And I had done everything I was told. All my life, I’d been too afraid to even think about things because he might know. And then, if he knew my darkest thoughts, the ones I tried not to think, why hadn’t he sent someone to punish me?
What if people just did bad stuff all by themselves, pretending to act in his name? He might even be dead, for all I knew. I was just considering this when the doctor put his hand on my lower back and I startled. I’d forgotten he was in the room.
He reached between my bottom cheeks and grasped the base of the plug he’d stuffed me with, then pulled on it. Gradually, the hateful object came out, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however.
“Now that we’re not being watched by the guard, I’m going to ensure you have a lesson you never forget. Next time you think about trying to escape, remember that this is the punishment you’ll want to get, because the next one will be worse,” the brute murmured in my ear. Any warmth I’d still felt toward him faded away, and I resented his words.
There was a scraping sound. Surprised, I dared to look around, and I saw him sliding a scalpel over a gnarly shaped thing. I had no idea what it was. A spicy, sort-of-fruity scent filled the air; I didn’t know what that was, either.
The scraping continued. I was sure that I didn’t want to find out what he planned to do to me, so I buried my face in a pillow and wished to return to my slumber for two more years.
It was pretty pathetic that sleeping my awful life away in its entirety looked like a good option about now. Why had I ever taken the IV out of my arm? I’d thought everything would be okay again if I had only been awake. For some reason I’d believed it would mean my life would finally begin. Was this all there was?
“This is ginger,” the doctor said. “It’s going inside your ass. When it does, it will burn like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. I want you to remember two things while your ass accepts this: One, I have a freezer in my medical office. Ginger freezes, and I don’t have to thaw it before I put it in your ass. Two, I also have a hot plate. I can make the ginger warm. Bear these in mind and think very long and hard about how you want to behave in the future.”
I wanted to say something about how I’d rather like to stick nasty things in his ass, to see how he liked it, but then he parted my cheeks and the ginger slid in. I squeaked with horror. I don’t know if it was because the earlier anal invasions had made my previously unused bottom sore and chafed, or if it was just the way ginger normally behaved, but the hateful, slick intrusion burned almost instantly. I gasped. It was like getting soap in my eyes. Vicious, orphanage soap. The sort that had made me hate bath times.
It got worse, and all I thought about was that horrible ginger, eating at my insides as it sat there. What would it do to me? Would I ever be able to use the bathroom again? I had no idea if this had any long-term effects and that terrified me, as much as my fear of how much worse the pain would get.
I cried. I couldn’t not. The burn was too great. As the tears ran down my face, I was horrified to discover that liquid was escaping from my pussy. The juices from the ginger ran down my slit and stung against my clit, but beneath the burn, my sex seemed to swell until my pulse beat in my pussy lips.
What was wrong with me? Was this what the doctor had meant when he said he would train me? That he would make something hurt the exact right amount that my brain flipped it around from pain into pleasure? Distantly, the agonizing burn of the ginger still haunted my thoughts, but it was like it was happening to someone else, who was also me. I didn’t understand this at all.
My nipples were so hard and sensitive that I didn’t just want relief, I needed it like I’d never needed anything before in my life. I arched my spine and the rough fabric of the quilt chafed deliciously against my breasts, sending explosive heat straight to my pussy.
“Bad, bad girl,” he breathed into my ear, then swatted my ass. The pain exploded on the surface at the same moment that my ass inadvertently clenched against the ginger, and I moaned because the gnawing burn in my bottom hole suddenly got a lot worse, but at the same moment my ass cheeks glowed sensually.
The ginger attacked my butt for the longest time of my entire life, but I think it was really only about ten minutes or so. When the doctor came to remove it, I tried really hard not to clench against it even though my ass wanted to fold in on itself until it disappeared.
I remained where I was and waited for the next thing. It turned out that the next thing was the doctor’s hands on my hips, the tip of his cock positioned against my entrance, as I silently begged him to fill me.
“One day I’m going to fuck you,” he told me quietly, as his cock pulsed against my hole. I didn’t doubt it. I was a prisoner in this place, and he could do whatever he wanted with me. “And you’re going to like it,” he added. That I didn’t believe. I still wanted it, though, and my body ached for him to take me.
Instead, he pulled away. I turned my head sideways to watch him as he picked up a steaming mug.
“Do you like coffee?” he asked.
I stared at him in disbelief. Wasn’t he supposed to make me drink something completely miserable, like the blood of an ox? Uncertain about whether to trust him enough to even be truthful about what I did and didn’t like, I nodded hesitantly. I hadn’t had much coffee in the past but I’d always liked it.
“I figured,” he told me, holding the drink out for me. I didn’t know how to handle this. One minute, he punished me, the next, he was being nice. It made no sense. What was he going to make me do in exchange for accepting this drink? Perhaps he was remorseful for what he had just done. I decided to sit up and take the drink from him.
“Your punishment is over, and I forgive you for trying to escape,” he told me in a gentle voice that was barely above a whisper. Now he looked sad. “Don’t do it again. We are both prisoners here. More than that, you are mine, now.”
A thrill shot through me when I heard that. Embarrassed, I stared fixedly at the coffee, unsure whether to try it or not. What if it made me sleep again?
“The coffee isn’t laced with anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It was like he had read my mind. I blushed furiously as I took a sip, confirming that this was exactly my concern.
The rich, bitter flavor was like a delicious explosion on my tongue, which hadn’t tasted food since the day I was released from the orphanage. For the past two years, I’d been fed by a tube through my nose that went straight down into my stomach. Muscles in my throat that were unused to swallowing now slowly responded as I reminded them of how to get rid of a mouthful of liquid.
“You like that?” He looked excited, although he kept his voice neutral.
I nodded, still unsure about speaking.
“You’re going to live with me for the time being, Isla, because I’m going to train you. I think it’s much healthier for women to be out of bed and moving around, so if you and I are successful together, I’m going to see if you can have a longer-term solution, such as a room of your own. That depends on you not trying to escape. Do you agree to let me train you?”
I stared at him with a death glare. It didn’t matter what I wanted. Nobody would ever listen to me. I could waste effort giving him my opinion but I knew, as sure as food came in ration pouches, that everyone would do whatever they wanted anyway.
“Isla, this is very important. If you can’t speak, I need you to nod or shake your head. Do you agree to let me train you?” He seemed so bent on getting me to be a part of my own fate. I had no interest in it, so I said nothing.
“I will ask you again tomorrow, and if you don’t answer, I will have to take you back to your hospital bed and explain to the guards that you won’t submit.”
Why would I? The idea was crazy. I wasn’t an animal, I didn’t need training, I needed safety and to live somewhere where I was more than just a glorified human eggshell. Screw training. As I thought about it all, I became afraid that Lord Francis might strike me down, but he didn’t, and when he didn’t, I realized the most glorious and honorable leader of our city still wasn’t listening. Perhaps he couldn’t hear people’s thoughts, after all.
I looked at the doctor. He was still waiting for an answer, and his face was serious. Taking a deep breath and summoning lots of courage, I finally spoke for the second time that day, which was also the second time in two years.
“What is your name?” I asked, faltering over the words like a small child might when they were trying to read.
The doctor stared at me, taken aback by my question, and I worried that I’d gone too far, that I’d been too demanding. An apology was on my lips but he merely smacked his forehead with his palm.
“How silly of me! So sorry. I’m Doctor Weston. Doctor Adam Weston. You can call me Adam. Or Doctor.” The last sounded like an afterthought, though. He wasn’t mad at me for asking. I breathed in slowly, while my previous anxiety abated.
“Why do you need me to agree to be trained?” I asked slowly.
He looked at me for several long seconds, and I worried that I’d asked the wrong question.
“Actually, if I’m completely honest with you, I don’t. I can take you, force you to do my bidding, do whatever I want with you. Nobody here will care. In fact, some people will think that’s a better way. But it’s important to me that you agree. If nothing else, it’s professional. I’m offering you a chance to not sleep your life away in a hospital bed. Tell me your answer in the morning.”
His words surprised me, but I was no clearer about his motivations than I was before.
“In the meantime, as your doctor, I need to give you a bath and you’ll need an enema. It’s been so long since you ate solid food that your digestion needs a reminder about how to do its job, before any problems arise. Follow me to the bathroom.” He was back to being a doctor. I let him take me to the bathroom, not really sure what an enema was.
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