The Doctor and the Naughty Girl (4 page)

“What are you afraid of, Amity?”

“I’m afraid of the pain, and I’m afraid… of you.”

“A little bit of fear is good, if it gets you to start listening, to start doing as you’re told.” He rubbed lazy circles over her bottom, loving the way the skirt fell into the cleft of her ass, molding and displaying the shapes of the broad buttocks he was about to bare to his gaze. “And the pain will help you remember, will help you choose the correct path next time.”

And you’re going to enjoy it too, asshole.

Yes, part of him was going to enjoy that too—his cock was already hard against her hip at the prospect of the spanking to come—but there was nothing he could do about that. He knew she’d be able to feel the hard length of him against her. She’d know how this really affected him, no matter what he said, so there was no point in denying it.

“So are you backing out? This is your last chance.”

Please, God, don’t back out.

“N-no, sir.” Her body shifted over his lap, then she grew very still. “I’ll take my… punishment.”

Dane wanted to roar in triumph and joy, and he wanted to squeeze her in his arms, never let her go.

Settle down, pal.

“Please, not too hard,” she whispered. “I really am sorry.”

“I know you are, Amity.” His voice softened, and he gave her hip a gentle squeeze. “I know you can do this. Be brave now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He pulled the skirt the rest of the way over her bottom, bunching it at the small of her back, revealing the glorious globes already blushing pink from his little warm-up. Her bottom was even more gorgeous than her tight skirts had hinted at, the buttocks soft and round, the almost translucent paleness of her skin calling to him to caress it, which he did. She was wearing white lace boy shorts, which left the bottom half of her luscious buttocks bare, the snug lace perfectly accentuating and displaying the appealing lushness of her ass.

His cock throbbed harder against her hip, and she squirmed a little against it, letting him know she felt it. He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he massaged the weight of each cheek, giving each one a deep squeeze that made Amity exhale a long breath. His fingers stroked the crease between buttock and thigh, and she clenched, making a sound deep in her throat.

“No, no. Keep that bottom relaxed.” He patted
each cheek in gentle warning, and her buttocks loosened slowly. “That’s it, very soft, just relax. That’s right, stay very still. There you go.”

His fingers eased back along that crease until he could feel the heat of her sex.

Careful, Dane.

“Very pretty panties,” he murmured as he drew them down her thighs, revealing her bottom finally to his gaze, leaving the lace to bunch around her knees. He had to remember to breathe as he felt her bottom, squeezing again, taking a cheek in each hand and easing the buttocks apart, the humid, clean scent of her sex strong in his nostrils, the scent of her making his cock ache even more.

She was aroused! The knowledge of what that might mean made his head spin even as he inhaled deeply, making sure she knew he was doing it.

“Oh, my God,” Amity’s small voice whimpered. “Please…”

“Quiet,” he gently admonished, smiling. “Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite normal.”

Well, that wasn’t
quite
true. It was normal for a submissive to be aroused at the prospect of a hard spanking, but he wasn’t so sure it was normal for a girl who appeared to be completely new to the entire idea. It didn’t matter though; he drank it in either way, her shame at that realization making the whole process that much sweeter.

He let her bottom close, placing a palm firmly against the full lower curve of a soft buttock. “Ready, Amity?”

* * *

The feel of his hand on her bottom made her entire body vibrate—but with what exactly, she wasn’t sure. He held his big palm there, cupping her ass firmly. She knew he was waiting for her to say it, to give in, to absolve him of any guilt she fervently hoped he might be feeling for doing this to her.

Does he really need to feel guilt, Amity?

She hated that he was right—
hated
it—but it didn’t make it any less true. She did deserve this. And if it saved her job, she’d just have to suck it up and take it.

Of course, there was more to this—namely what he’d inhaled, what had her inner thighs slick—but she wasn’t ready to tackle the implications of what that meant. At least not quite yet.

“Ready,” she said, the soft, almost meek tone of her voice making her face flame anew.

“Good girl.”

Before she had a chance to feel that confusing little flare of arousal and happiness those two words elicited within her, his hand came crashing down on her bottom. Her body froze a moment, as if current was passing through her muscles, then the explosion of fire and the clap of the spank registered and she grunted.

Oh, fuck, that hurt!

He held his hand to her other cheek, waiting for God-knew-what. She trembled, waiting for it, the ass cheek he’d just hit throbbing angrily. She could almost visualize the growing palm print blooming across her skin.

Dr. McKendrick hit hard!

He smacked her again, lower down where her thigh and buttock met and she yelped, the pain there even worse, the force of the blow sending a disconcerting vibration through her core, reminding her again of the traitorous reaction of her body.

The blows came faster then, sometimes coming in rapid-fire volleys all over her bottom, and other times methodical, hard spanks to the same spot over and over that had her crying out with the hot pain of it.

The spanks stopped, that huge, hard hand moving in slow circles over the boiling cauldron of her buttocks while she tried to catch her breath, the burn building by the second.

“When you come to work, what do I expect you to be, Amity?”

For a moment, she wasn’t even sure he was speaking to her, the sound of her name pulling her out of her red haze of hurt and shame.

“I… on time. Sir.”

“That’s right.”

He began again, going slower this time, tapping her bottom each time as if taking aim, then slapping hard, his hand cupping her martyred flesh for a moment before pulling back to deliver another stinging blow. She yelped and moaned with each slap, trying to ignore the way her bottom jiggled at each harsh spank, knowing the kind of show she must be putting on for Dr. McKendrick. She’d always been self-conscious of her bottom, always considering it too big, dreading anytime she’d had to go to a beach or don a swimsuit.

Now, her bottom was laid bare for Dr. McKendrick’s enjoyment—and discipline. She could feel his erection against her hip as he jostled her effortlessly, tucking her closer while he continued to rain blows down across her ass, barking at her to stay still.

The merciless spanking continued as he growled at her. “What happens to girls who forget to schedule appointments, who come to work late, who don’t even try to do their best?”

Her vision began to blur as tears stung her eyes.

No, you’re not doing this, Amity. You’re not crying.

His hand pulled up one of her cheeks, exposing the tender flesh at junction of thigh and bottom, a hard smack landing and making her cry out. Then he did it again, harder, and she reached back then, the pain too much.

“Please, no more! It hurts!”

“Put that hand back on the floor, girl, or you’re going to get more,” he said, his voice even, but the steel still there, his hand raining spanks down on her burning bottom all the while.

She forced herself to do it, even as the first tear spilled, tracking down her cheek. She was biting her bottom lip so hard she was afraid she might bite through it if he kept at her.

Dr. McKendrick stopped once more and let her cry, the only sound her now open weeping, the sniffles of her nose. His fingers tested the swollen marks on her bottom, making her hiss with fresh blooms of pain. He murmured to her, the words incoherent, soothing, as if she were a fractious animal, unable to control her reactions to what he did to her.

Finally, she lay motionless over his lap, hoping he might be finished, but his hand cupped her bottom once more, caressing each buttock in turn, keeping the fire simmering in her flesh.

“You never answered my question, Amity.”

Oh, God, no more!

“I—I don’t remember, sir,” she said through her tears.

“What happens to girls who forget to schedule appointments, who come to work late, who don’t try their best?” His hand stilled, spanning the cleft of her bottom, her buttocks seeming to pulse with pain. “What do you think should happen?”

“They get… spanked.” She sniffled loudly. “Sir.”

“Yes, they do, and that will happen each and every time, as long as you work in this office. Do you understand me, Amity?”

“Yes, sir.”

And she really did. She had no doubt—none
whatsoever
—that this man would take her over his knee again and blister her ass even worse than he was doing at that very moment. She knew she should’ve been enraged, fighting him like a cat, threatening, promising to ruin him, to cut his balls off. That’s what she’d always been taught, right? To never let a man take from her, never let herself be subordinate to male authority?

None of that shit mattered right now though.

What
did
matter was that a small part of her she didn’t even realize existed, felt some sense of… rightness, about what this was. Her guilt was strong, and somehow—though she knew it was probably insane—this assuaged it a little. Was it penance? Did she have daddy issues she’d long suppressed, only to be brought to the surface by this dominant male of her illicit fantasies, with hands of steel and huge erection to match, bending her will to his?

Or was it the fact her pussy was so wet she was positive her juices were running off her inner thighs and staining the dark gray of his slacks?

Stop. Don’t go there, Amity.

She froze as his hand moved down her bottom to stroke her tender thighs menacingly, his fingertips easing between her legs as he caressed, then back down her legs, her bottom throbbing angrily.

“Please, sir. No more… hurts.”

She wiped tears from her cheeks, and didn’t even want to think about what a mess her face probably was by that point.

But he ignored her words, pressing his palm to her thigh, just below her bottom, and she gulped, knowing what was coming.

“These last ones will be the worst. I want to make sure you’ve learned your lesson tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then the slaps rained down upon her thighs, marching first up one, then down the other, each burning stroke drawing a cry from her raw throat, her head thrown back, her legs kicking. After the third stinging smack, she reached back again, the pain too much.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he murmured, an odd sort of pleasure in his low voice.

He caught up both her wrists and pinned them in one of his hands, pressing them hard to the small of her back as she wept anew, the tears dripping to the green pile carpet below, a strand of her hair that had come loose during her struggles now wet with her tears too.

“God, it… fucking hurts! Please!”

“Watch that mouth, young lady,” he said sharply, cracking a particularly hard slap across her lower thigh that made her scream. The pain was so much worse on her thighs, and she found she couldn’t handle it at all, a pain she’d never experienced, or imagined, before.

“I’m so sorry, sir. Please stop. Please…” she said, dissolving into sobs now, her body going limp again, all the tension, the nerves, the anxiety pouring out of her now in a burst of emotion she was completely unprepared for. It was almost as if she were floating above herself, watching his remorseless hand cracking across her sore and reddened flesh, wondering what had caused her to lose all control, to surrender to the pain, the sensation that seemed to swamp all her awareness.

Then he stopped, rocking slowly back and forth as he let her cry, still holding her wrists firmly in his grasp, the other hand stroking over the angry hurt of her thighs, then up to the inflamed buttocks, circling then easing down the other. He kept at her this way, and Amity lost track of exactly how long she’d been draped over those hard thighs. He murmured to her, cooing and making shushing sounds, the words incoherent, not needing to mean anything, the kind, soothing tone everything. Eventually her sobs died to sniffles, and a great, sinking fatigue consumed her, her awareness hazy at the edges, his hand continuing its slow course over her throbbing flesh, his once punishing touch now almost comforting.

What the hell was happening to her?

She shook her head, trying to clear it, then made to move from his knees. He held her fast though.

“You’re not going anywhere, girl.”

“I need to get up. Please, doctor.”

“Dane is okay now,” he said, still languidly stroking her burning bottom. “You’ll use ‘sir’ when you’re being disciplined though. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir—Dane.”

The sound of his name seemed to bring her most of the way out of the soft fog that had seemed to envelop her.

What the fuck had she done? She tried to stand again, and he pulled her right back down again, his strength implacable, the hold on her wrists tightening a moment.

“When you’re being punished, you don’t get up until I say you do. Another of your rules for you to remember.”

Damn him.

“I need to. Please.”

“Why, Amity? You don’t have anything I haven’t seen thousands of times before.”

Her blush flamed hot as he gently squeezed her bottom.

“It’s… I’m not exactly—used to this.”

“What are you talking about?” Another firmer squeeze of her buttock, a proprietary grasp that had her belly coiling traitorously. “I’m a doctor. Haven’t you been to the gynecologist before?”

“Well… yes.”

Her pause got his attention though, and inwardly she cringed.

She winced as he squeezed harder, his voice a warning rumble. “When’s the last time you went to the gynecologist? This year?”