Corrective Treatment Page 2

  The windows of the vehicle were dark and she did not know where they were going precisely. It didn’t really matter. For the moment, her destiny was out of her hands. It felt as though the journey took a long time, though she wasn’t really sure how long it had taken. From the moment she’d stepped into the hall of justice, time and space and perspective had been warped.

  Eventually, the vehicle stopped and Sophie was escorted from it. The bailiffs became instantly formal as soon as they left the vehicle, strongly suggesting some kind of surveillance. There was a door looming before them, a reinforced brushed steel monstrosity with letters engraved in the thick metal.

  Corrective Treatment Facility

  The door opened for them, and Sophie found herself and her escorts in what looked like a waiting area. There was a desk with a nurse behind it, and the rest of the room contained couches and chairs. There was no waiting for her, however. The bailiffs escorted her directly through the area and into a relatively small medical examination room.

  “This is a doctor’s surgery? I’m not sick.”

  “This is how they do it, the corrective treatment,” the bailiff murmured to her. “It’s all medical.”

  “It’s medical? What are they going to do? Take out parts of my brain?”

  “You wish,” the bailiff smirked. Sophie shot him an annoyed look. They really did seem to be enjoying her innocence on the subject.

  They were not being terribly professional. They were acting more like boys finding themselves unexpectedly in the presence of their crush. Sophie half-expected one of them to try to pull her hair. This was why she was still a virgin. Watching strong men turn into silly puppies wasn’t precisely a turn-on.

  A moment or two later, the door opened and Sophie found herself looking into the face of an older man who had nothing silly or puppyish about him. Deep blue eyes locked on her the moment he walked in, an intelligent gaze set in a strong masculine face. His dark hair was cut close to his head, graying slightly at the temples and above his ears. His jaw was square and clinically clean shaven, his shoulders broad underneath a white coat. He looked at her with an intensity that caught her off guard. Sophie was used to being looked at with adoration, with judgment, with excitement, with yearning, but very rarely with curiosity and pure interest. It was as though she was being looked at for the first time, by someone who wanted to see her deeply.

  She found herself looking back at him with equal interest, trying to read the expression in his eyes. It was not easy. He seemed professionally blank, more by design than reality. She could sense more to the man, but it was hidden behind a veneer. Sophie had worn similar masks herself many times, and she was not fooled by the doctor’s apparent sternness or coldness. This was the man who would try to impose the will of the authority. He was the one tasked with breaking her. If she was going to survive this intact, she would have to know him as well as he came to know her.

  “Miss Eins,” he said, reading her name from the electronic pad in his hand as if he didn’t know precisely who she was—as if she didn’t have one of the most recognizable faces in the colony. He looked at her for confirmation. Sophie felt as though she were being tested, though she didn’t know what for.

  “No,” she lied. “I’m not Sophie Eins. I came for the free candy samples. Is this not the candy factory?”

  One of the bailiffs snorted with laughter. The doctor’s expression did not change. He looked at her without so much as a flicker of amusement. Strange how the judges who had sentenced her had so much less gravitas in all their glory than this man did simply standing there.

  “This is Sophie Eins,” the other bailiff said. “We’ve escorted her directly from the courthouse.”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “I see her records and sentencing here.”

  He glanced up from her file and gave her another one of those piercing looks that made her feel completely undone. She got the sense that he was somewhat shocked by what he had just read, though there was little obvious indication of that in his expression. He was definitely examining her more closely now though—odd. Perhaps he really did not know who she was? Sophie had not known there was anybody who wasn’t intimately acquainted with her life story.

  “Remove your clothing, please, Miss Eins,” he said, putting his pad to the side. “We will begin with a brief examination to determine your physical health.”

  “I’m not taking my clothes off for you,” Sophie said bluntly. The notion of being unclothed with this man who exuded a kind of sharp, strong masculinity she had not encountered before was intimidating. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her cardigan close about her.

  “Bailiffs,” the doctor said. “If you would escort the patient to the treatment room.”

  Was that it? Had she gotten away with telling him a simple no? Sophie somehow doubted it. The doctor left the room and began walking down the hall. Sophie soon followed, sandwiched between the two burly bailiffs.

  “That was not a good idea,” the right bailiff murmured in her ear. “He doesn’t like noncompliant subjects.”

  She could really do without the constant narration and wished the bailiffs would be dismissed already. Surely their presence was not necessary. The doctor seemed more than big enough, strong enough, and… handsome enough to handle her on his own.

  Another steel door. Another word inscribed in metal.

  Treatment

  The door opened to reveal a much larger room that contained at its center a medical chair. It was surrounded by various medical-type instruments, monitors, and the like. Sophie didn’t really pay attention to the precise location of each item. She was far too focused on the chair, which she noticed had stirrups for the legs—and thick bands that looked to her like restraints. Her stomach performed nervous contortions inside her belly as the doctor came to a halt near the chair and turned to look at her once more.

  “These proceedings go much more smoothly when the subject is cooperative,” he informed her. “Will you disrobe yourself? Or shall I call the nurses to do it for you?”

  “You can call the entire military if you like,” Sophie replied boldly. “I’m not taking my clothes off.”

  The doctor’s pupils narrowed ever so slightly. It was the smallest signal, but it sent a bolt of electric excitement rushing through Sophie. She felt the strangest urge to comply with him, but resisted it. This doctor had a way about him, that much was certain, but she would not roll over and let the authority have their way with her through this doctor. He was part of the punishment they had given her for daring to socialize with those below her station. No matter how handsome he was, she was not going to obey him.

  The doctor reached for a button and pressed it. “Nurses, your assistance, please.”

  Within seconds, three women in pressed white uniforms arrived to do his bidding. Caught between the bailiffs and the doctor and the nurses, Sophie started to feel much less sure of herself. One of the nurses appeared to be around Sophie’s age; the other two were old enough to be her mother. Their presence put the number of people in the room at seven. Six-to-one odds were not good. Sophie was starting to feel very outmatched and very scared.

  “Nurses, if you would be so kind as to help Miss Eins remove her clothing for her examination,” the doctor directed.

  “No!” Sophie’s anger blazed as the women turned toward her like obedient little drones. “You will not disrobe me. You know who I am. You have no right to touch me, you…”

  “Settle down, Sophie.” The oldest nurse, a kindly looking round-faced woman spoke to her. “We’re just getting you ready for your examination, that’s all.”

  “No!” Sophie repeated herself. But the bailiffs had her firmly in hand and she was not going anywhere. There was nothing she could do as the nurses began to work at her clothing, removing her fine shoes and tugging at her leggings. They slid down her thighs in one silken motion, her panties going with them in quick succession. A hot blush suffused Sophie’s face as she realized she was now
completely naked from the waist down, her bright red shock of pubic hair visible to everyone.

  “Stop it!” Sophie aimed a kick at one of the ladies, but found her foot caught by the young nurse, who had clearly seen it coming. Sophie was not a natural fighter, and she was certainly no match for the medical team.

  “Now you settle down,” the same nurse said in maternal tones. “You’re being very silly and you’re making this much worse for yourself. The doctor will have to give you an extended treatment if you don’t calm down and behave yourself.”

  The doctor. The man who was standing there watching her humiliation with a keen gaze. She didn’t know how she’d ever thought for a single second that she could like him. He was the mastermind of this entire twisted punishment, and he was watching her every move with eyes that missed nothing.

  “Let me go!” Sophie tried twisting out of the bailiffs’ grasp, but her struggling only made them hold on tighter. The only saving grace of the whole matter was the fact that with them holding onto her arms, there was no way for the nurses to remove the clothing on the upper half of her body. Maybe she would retain some dignity after all.

  “Now, Sophie!” The nurse’s tone became quite sharp. “You deserve a good long bottom warming, you do. Fancy making this much fuss!”

  Sophie did not appreciate the scolding or the warning. The woman spoke to her as if she were some rambunctious brat refusing to get ready for her bath. But that wasn’t the case. She was a young woman imprisoned for a crime she’d barely committed, a crime that should never have been a crime in the first place.

  “Are you going to hold still and let us take that pretty cardigan off without damaging it?”

  “No,” Sophie snarled angrily, her red hair falling over her face as she tossed her head furiously. “I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

  “In that case, you’d better stay still,” one nurse said as she produced a sharp pair of scissors. “You don’t want us to cut you.”

  Sophie froze as the cold edge of the back of the scissors ran up her midsection, slicing through silk and wool like a knife through butter. The scissors continued their journey up her body, taking her brassiere and the last shreds of her clothing in one smooth, obviously practiced motion. The woman had done this before, many times, Sophie imagined. There was a certain air of boredom about the nurses, the bailiffs, the doctor, as if this was just another procedure that would go by the book. She wasn’t any match for them, and they knew it.

  Sophie let out a shriek of outrage as her priceless garments were ruined. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration as she watched her clothing fall to the floor in chunks. “That was worth more than you are!”

  “Then you shouldn’t have put up such a fight, should you?” Another nurse spoke, sounding somewhat pleased with herself. She was probably jealous, Sophie figured. These women were all laborers. She was more privileged than they were and they probably hated her for it. She knew her fame did not always bring popularity. There would be a lot of people quite pleased to hear what had happened to her. They would say she deserved this, to be stripped naked and punished by strangers.

  She was naked now, the curve of her breast and bottom, the soft lines of her stomach and thighs, every little sensual bit of skin exposed. It was enough to make her want to cry, but she was far too furious to cry.

  “When I get out of here, I’m going to find all your names, and I’m going to make sure you all pay for that,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “Spoiled, isn’t she,” the older nurse commented. “No surprise, really.”

  “You don’t even know why you’re doing this to me!” Sophie argued. “I haven’t even committed a crime! I’m a prisoner of conscience!” As she spoke, rebellion raged inside her. She would not quietly allow them to punish her for having spoken her mind. What was the harm in wanting something different? Why did that put her at the mercy of six disinterested tormentors?

  “Let me go,” she demanded as the last shreds of her clothing were pulled from her body. “Let me go at once!”

  It was as if she had not spoken. Her verbal resistance meant nothing.

  “You’re cowards, all of you,” she said, throwing words at them. “You don’t even know why you’re doing this to me. You just know you have an order.”

  “According to the documentation, you were held in contempt of the high court, and the laws of this land,” the doctor said in distinctly stern tones. “You have been referred for an extensive correctional process, which is only becoming more extensive the longer you pitch this fit.”

  He too, was looking at her as if she were some spoiled little brat. None of them seemed to much care that she was naked. The bailiffs were certainly getting an eyeful, but they seemed to know well enough to maintain a much more professional facade in front of the doctor than they had when they were alone with her.

  “What does that mean?” Sophie bit the question out. “What do you mean, becoming more extensive?”

  “It means you should take care not to behave in such a way as would lead me to believe an increased dose of correctional treatment is necessary,” the doctor said, a flash of warning in his bright blue eyes. “You have a certain level of discipline to receive, but that can always be increased to my discretion.”

  “Oh, can it,” Sophie sneered. “I’m not afraid of you. You’re nothing. Nobody. You’re a button pusher in a white coat with a horde of willing harpies.”

  The nurses did not take offense. They did not seem to know what harpies were. That did not surprise Sophie. Education was limited by the high court to key subject areas that made the citizens functional. Further reading and exploration was discouraged. If not for her father’s rank, Sophie would never have had access to the libraries where history and the writings of peoples past were contained. She would never have known how big the universe was, or how many wonders it had once contained. And, if she were to be completely honest with herself, she likely would never have ended up naked between two burly men with three nurses and a doctor looking on.

  “Take her to the examination chair,” the doctor ordered the bailiffs. “Secure her well.”

  “Oh, hell, no,” Sophie said, evoking some archaic curse words as the men stepped forward, taking her with them. “You are not putting me in that thing.”

  The bailiffs kept moving, forcing Sophie to physically try to evade her fate. She did not want to be examined. She did not want to be corrected. And she didn’t deserve it either. Why didn’t they understand that?

  “Let me go!” She yelled the order, as if volume might make a difference. It didn’t.

  The bailiffs held her firm, even when she picked her feet up off the floor and tried to drag them down with her, kicking and squealing for all she was worth. Unfortunately, the bailiffs had been chosen for their sturdy statures and all her flailing had precisely no effect on them. They carried her to the chair and held her while the doctor strapped her into place, arms and torso secured with thick synthetic bands of material that made movement impossible. Her legs were likewise strapped into the stirrups, baring her genital mound to the doctor, the nurses, and the stoic bailiffs alike.

  Sophie’s entire body flushed crimson as she sat there, breasts bare, nipples erect with fear and excitement, her body experiencing a hundred different impulses all at the same time—all of them thwarted by the bonds that held her exposed before the eyes of the corrective team.

  “Let me go,” she repeated, but this time she sounded weaker even to herself. She tried to pull out of her bindings, but struggling did nothing. She had less than half an inch of play in her bonds, and almost every inch of her body was visible to the onlookers, all of whose eyes were on her.

  “I’d usually dismiss the bailiffs at this point,” the doctor informed her. “If you’d done as you were told, all of this would have been a private affair. But as you’ve been particularly troublesome, I think their continued presence is necessary.” He turned to the nurse. “I will need a blade and s
ome shaving cream. The treatment area needs to be clear.”

  The treatment area? He could only be referring to her pussy. Sophie saw the bailiffs exchange pleased looks and she felt a hot rush of shame. She had no secrets from anyone in the room. The doctor knew exactly what he was doing by allowing them to stay.

  “You’re sick,” she said. “You’re treating me like I’m nothing and nobody. It’s inhuman. You’re inhuman.”

  “I’m treating you as I’d treat any aggressively noncompliant patient,” the doctor informed her without any hint of guilt. “It may be that you are unused to consequences and therefore view them as unfair, but you will discover during your time here that obedience brings rewards and disobedience causes discomfort.”

  She felt a sting of chastisement. He was implying that she was spoiled. That wasn’t fair. He didn’t know what she’d been through, how she’d been set up to fail, how she was being made an example of. He didn’t care either. He was just doing his job, like an automaton.

  Did automatons have eyes that made you feel as though you were being absorbed into them, though? Did one find oneself hoping for their glance again, even though they belonged to a man who was about to shave her nether regions?

  The bailiffs were stationed back by the doors, out of direct eye line of the procedures, so that was a small comfort, but still Sophie was filled with embarrassment, especially when she felt her pussy mound covered with a warm, wet cloth. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend as though it were not happening, but she couldn’t help but look down between her bound legs, where the doctor was moistening her skin. Their eyes met as he pressed his palm right between her thighs, over her pussy. His touch and his gaze made her heart skip a beat. She felt little tingles racing over her skin, an illicit excitement that was rising in spite of her shameful predicament.

  The doctor peeled the cloth away, leaving cool air to rush in and stimulate the delicate region. A moment later his hands returned, massaging shaving cream into the bright red bush that had protected her delicate womanhood from the gaze of the bailiffs.