The Doctor's Little Girl (7 page)

Unlike usual, it only took Molly a few minutes, and as she got closer and closer, her chest and face flushing red, she took her fingers out of her pussy and used her other hand to grab her sore bottom cheek, hard. The reminder of the spanking and the feeling of her own heat sent her over the edge and despite her best efforts, she wailed as an orgasm ripped through her. She slid down the door as she finished, wincing as she made contact with the cool surface of the floor, and sighed dreamily. Dr. Harrington had said that he was going to spank her every time she needed it, and she had a feeling that was going to be often.

* * *

Andrew smiled to himself as he heard the sounds of Molly’s orgasm echo through the office. He couldn’t have asked for a stronger sign that the spanking had been well received, although he hoped that she had maintained the important lesson that he was trying to impart on her despite her enjoyment. He was quite sure that she had, though. It seemed difficult to believe that she could have cried the way that she had without taking it to heart. No girl he had ever spanked had cried before. Those had just been playful spankings, something that girls had put up with as part of foreplay, and if they enjoyed it, it was only for the hot rush of blood to the lower halves of their bodies. But this had been real. There was no denying how real it was.

After a few minutes, Andrew knocked on the door to the bathroom. “You finished in there, little girl?” he asked.

“Sorry! I’ll be right out,” he heard Molly call. In a moment, the door opened and Molly exited. Her eyes were still red from crying and her face was still red from arousal. He was certain that her bottom was still red from the spanking, and that it was going to be for some time, but she had pulled her skirt back down, so he couldn’t see her glowing cheeks. She moved slowly and shyly, obviously very embarrassed by the whole situation.

“After I punish you,” Andrew told her, his tone stern. “I expect you to thank me for correcting you. Do you understand?”

Molly looked at the floor, looking like she was unable to speak from the shy feeling that was obviously overwhelming her. “Yes, sir,” she muttered.

“Then go ahead now, Molly,” he instructed.

Molly ground her toe into the floor, fidgeting nervously. “Thank you for p-punishing me, Dr. Harrington,” she whispered.

“Louder,” Andrew insisted, “and look at me when you’re speaking to me, little girl.”

Molly sighed, but mustered the courage to look him in the eye. “Thank you for punishing me, sir,” she repeated, louder and clearer.

Andrew could see the flush of embarrassment overtake her whole face, her ears probably glowing as brightly as her bottom.

“Good girl,” he praised her. “You took your punishment very well. I’m proud of you.”

Molly smiled.

“Now, to show you that I forgive you and to remind you that I only punished you because I care about you, I’m going to give you a little relief. Come into the exam room with me.”

Molly’s eyes widened as he said that, and he was sure that her mind was racing. They walked into one of the exam rooms, Andrew flicking the light on as they came in.

“Hop up on the table and wait for me,” he instructed as if he was talking to a young patient. Molly did as she was told, squirming about as pressure was put on her sore and punished backside. Andrew went into the prep area to look for some lotion. He knew there had to be something appropriate in there somewhere. Not finding anything and not wanting to put something actually medicated on Molly’s tender skin, he tried Samantha’s desk, where he found a bottle of ‘soothing lotion for tired hands.’ He checked the ingredients for anything that might be too harsh for Molly in her current condition but decided that it would do the trick.

When he walked back in, Molly was still seated in the same position as she had been when he left. He smiled at her, pleased with her obedience.

“Lie down on the table, on your tummy,” Andrew instructed. Molly did as she was told, her movements a little cautious and nervous, though. The doctor approached her and lifted her skirt out of the way, then pulled her panties back down, noting just how wet the gusset had become. He marveled at the sight of her bright, reddened backside in the sterile, white room. It was the most colorful thing in sight, and he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

He then squeezed a generous handful of the lotion into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it up before touching her. When he did, she let out a little gasp of relief, and she cooed and wriggled happily as he tenderly massaged the cream into her skin. He rubbed her gently until all the lotion had been absorbed, and then gave her bottom a soft pat.

“There you go, Molly,” he said. “You can pull your panties back up and get up.” Molly did as she was told, and Andrew enjoyed the view of her red bottom for one last moment until it was encased in her cotton panties again. Then she climbed up and adjusted her skirt. “Let’s go home and put you to bed,” Andrew suggested. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet, but Molly nodded vigorously. She reached out to hold Andrew’s hand as they exited the building.

* * *

When they got home from the office, Andrew parked the car in the driveway and then immediately turned to Molly and told her to go upstairs and get ready for bed. Molly couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had been sent to bed by someone. Even as a young child, her mother hadn’t really cared when Molly was awake or asleep: she was too busy wrestling with her own demons to notice things like that.

Molly liked the feeling of being taken care of, and she was, after all, impossibly tired. She felt like she hadn’t slept in a week, and now that she had cried out all the stress that was keeping her awake, it was hard to keep her eyes open. She gave a quick “Yes, sir,” and then followed Dr. Harrington into the house.

She climbed the stairs and went into her room. She changed out of her work clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, then put on a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth quickly, then turned out the light and climbed into her bed, adjusting the blankets over her since it was unmade. She found her teddy bear and cuddled up to it. Just as she was about to close her eyes and start trying to fall asleep, she realized that Andrew was standing in the doorway.

“Oh!” she said. “Hi, I’m in bed now.” She always found herself saying stupid, obvious things when she felt shy or nervous.

Andrew snickered at her. “I can see that. Good girl.” He came over and sat at the edge of the bed next to her. “Did you brush your teeth?” he asked. Molly nodded. “Good girl,” he said again. Molly beamed. She would never get tired of hearing that. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ve decided that little girls like you need to get more sleep than you’ve been getting. From now on, your bedtime is ten o’clock. That gives you plenty of time to do your chores and spend some time having fun after work, but should still give you enough sleep. And when I say that I want you in bed, I mean that I want you to be in bed asleep by ten. Do you understand me?”

Molly frowned. She took so long to fall asleep.

“What if I can’t sleep?” she asked. “I, uh, usually can’t sleep.”

Andrew smiled gently. “I’ve noticed this. You need to try to get to sleep by bedtime. If you really can’t sleep, then I want you to come get me and tell me what’s on your mind and I’ll see if I can’t make you sleepy,” Andrew said.

Molly gave him an inquisitive look. “What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that I’ll give you a bedtime spanking, of course. That certainly helps to make you sleepy, it seems.”

As if on cue, Molly yawned.

Andrew chuckled. “See?” he said. “Sleepy little girl. Get some rest.” He kissed her on the forehead and left the room, leaving the door cracked a little bit.

Molly couldn’t help but reflect on the unusual course her life had taken today. Andrew was treating her like a child, but it felt so right. She spent all her time trying to prove to the world that she really was a grownup, but maybe this was what she needed.

* * *

As the days went by, Molly found herself feeling better about her life, and truly wanting to make Andrew proud of her. Sitting at work next to Samantha the morning after she had been spanked, she had felt embarrassed by the thought that she was squirming in her chair, as her bottom had remained sore despite her long night’s sleep. But her mind was clearer and sharper without the burden of sleepiness, and she found herself better able to get her work done.

She still worried that she wasn’t good enough, but the fear enveloped her less, and she was able to be herself more. Both Samantha and Rebecca told her that they thought she was starting to ‘fit in nicely,’ or something to that effect, and she tried to build friendships with them, although she found, as usual, that she didn’t have much to talk about when they hung out in the break room together. Compared to their lives full of exciting stories, Molly felt positively boring. Of course she had lots of stories from her life, but she had learned early on not to tell those things to anyone. No one wanted to hear about the things that Molly had to share.

Another thing had changed for her, too. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Andrew. Of course, she had always found him attractive. In fact, she had noticed it in the back of her mind the first time she saw him at the airport. He was tall and muscularly built. She had walked in on him doing pushups one morning in nothing but his boxers, and she had marveled at the muscular lines of his body. His face was chiseled and masculine, and his resting facial expression was pensive. His stormy eyes jolted something awake in Molly.

But now that he had spanked her, now that she had cuddled on his lap and felt his strong arms around her, she couldn’t stop remembering that feeling. She longed to rest her head against his chest and to feel his touch on her skin. She was hungry for his attention. He had made it clear to her that she would get another spanking if she disobeyed him again, but she didn’t want to earn his affections through naughtiness. She wanted to make him proud of her. She wanted him to whisper ‘good girl’ into her ear, to feel his hot breath on her neck as she did it. It took effort for her not to sound dreamy when she said “Yes, Dr. Harrington,” in response to his requests in the office.

One day, about a week later, Molly was standing in the break room pouring herself a cup of coffee when Rebecca came in. She said hi to Molly and started to chat with her a little bit. Molly did so idly, only half paying attention and half watching a squirrel playing outside. Molly had a weakness for cute animals. They always occupied her attention as soon as she saw one, but she was trying not to be rude to Rebecca. Then, Rebecca said something that fully captured Molly’s attention.

“Please don’t take this personally, because I’m just genuinely asking,” Rebecca started, “but do you know how to iron?”

Molly’s face turned bright red. She had noticed her wrinkled shirts as she was getting ready in the morning but had hoped that no one else would notice. The fact that someone had made her want the floor to open up around her. Sure, ironing wasn’t that big of a deal, but Molly always felt incredibly embarrassed whenever anyone commented on her appearance. It reminded her of the times when she was in school and the other students would mock her for her worn-out hand-me-downs. It had been uncomfortable enough for Molly when Rebecca had gone out to get her some new things to wear to work, but that seemed to be motivated more by kindness. This made Molly feel small and stupid.

The truth was, Molly didn’t know how to iron. At all. There were a lot of things that people usually learned while growing up that Molly had missed. Her mother had always struggled just to get through the day, and never had time or energy to do things like iron. Molly could remember her doing it once, before Easter one year. Other than that, she remembered putting things into a wicker ‘ironing basket’ where they would sit until eventually Molly outgrew them and her mother gave them away. Most of Molly’s everyday clothes hadn’t needed ironing anyway, so she had never found it to be that big of a deal, but it was true: she probably looked silly.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Rebecca cooed. “I can show you sometime if you want me to, if you don’t know how.”

Molly glowered. Of course she had meant to make her uncomfortable. There was no other reason to say something like that. She had been teasing her. Molly felt like she was about to cry. Part of her realized that this was silly, and that her reaction was over the top, but she didn’t care. Molly had always tended to be this way. She could endure real difficulties with silence, but little things got under her skin.

Overwhelmed, Molly got up and left the room quickly. She didn’t quite run (the office was too small to really run anywhere), but she had given into her instinct to flee. Where she fled to was just a few feet down the hall, in one of the empty examination rooms. She shut the door, probably harder than she should have, and climbed up onto the padded brown table. The room was small and tight and it made her feel safer, but she couldn’t shake the memories of being teased and mocked.

She remembered with shame how some of the cool kids had offered to show her how to apply makeup in middle school and had left her looking like a clown. They had reassured her that she looked great and let her go to class like that, and everyone had laughed.

Sitting on the table, Molly began to cry, partially because she was upset about what Rebecca had said and partially because she felt so stupid that she had just run out of the break room at her job to cry because someone asked her about ironing. She was sure that Dr. Harrington would laugh at her for acting this way, and maybe it would be the first step to him seeing just how pathetic she really was. She balled herself up, put her head on her knees, and sobbed as quietly as she could. No one could be stupider than her.

Molly’s crying was interrupted by a knock on the door. She didn’t say anything, but drew her legs in closer to her chest and tightened her grip on herself, trying to disappear. She heard someone come into the room and shut the door, but didn’t budge. Then she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.