Examined

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

K irsten stood outside staring at the imposing building for what seemed like far too long before she summoned the courage to make her way to the front door.

She reread the big black lettering again.

Correctional Therapeutic Facility

It was such a simple, unassuming title on a building that she had driven by hundreds of times on her way to work and back each day. She’d never given it much thought; it was a backdrop in her daily routine, not unlike the State Capitol. She was aware of its existence and its purpose, at least to a certain degree, but she’d never thought she would enter it herself.

Especially not by court order. Yet hear she was, in trouble with the law.

Behind the large, daunting front desk sat a severe-looking woman, her hair pulled back in a tight bun and a sour look of concentration on her face as she typed away at her keyboard. If intimidation was a job requirement, this woman was its embodiment.

Kirsten approached the desk, her throat tightening a bit when she was completely ignored.

“One moment,” the lady finally said in a voice that dripped with scolding, still not lifting her eyes from her computer.

“Oh, sorry,” Kirsten mumbled, suddenly feeling like a naughty student sent to the principal’s office.

In many ways that was what this was, she thought, except for naughty adults.

Only one of her friends had ever been sentenced to treatment at the CTF, for shoplifting. Though Kirsten hadn’t known her quite well enough to probe too deeply, seeing her blush bright red any time they even drove by the facility together had certainly piqued Kirsten’s curiosity…

But now that it was her turn, all traces of that curiosity had been replaced by a sense of nervous, fearful anticipation.

“Name?” the woman finally asked, peering over her glasses.

“Kirsten Bennett.”

The lady searched through a pile of forms on her desk, then slipped a stack of papers onto a clipboard and extended it with a pen. “Fill out these forms, then you’ll be brought back to change and take your initial attentiveness test.”

Kirsten already had so many questions, but one glance at the woman’s expression quashed any notion of a friendly Q&A, so she just nodded and withdrew to one of the waiting room chairs, flipping through the documents filled with daunting legalese. Some of them had some pretty… personal questions on them, about her sexual background and habits. She scanned and scribbled her way through, driven by a keen desire to get this day over with.

She handed the clipboard back to the front-desk lady, who shot her another reproachful look before taking it from her and paging through the packet.

“Did you fill these out carefully, young lady?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kirsten affirmed, a twinge of guilt washing over her. The woman had an unspoken aura of accusation, and Kirsten felt it acutely.

Nervously shifting from one foot to another, she awaited further instruction. Thankfully, respite soon arrived in the form of a much friendlier-looking nurse beckoning her.

“Miss Bennett?” the nurse asked brightly, staring directly at her with a smile.

Kirsten nodded her head.

“Come on back, honey,” she said.

Kirsten followed the nurse quickly, grateful for every additional bit of distance put between herself and the front desk lady. They entered what looked like a small classroom, with a table and chair in the middle and a projector at the front.

“Go ahead and change into this, sweetheart,” the nurse said, and Kirsten turned around to see her holding a thin hospital gown. “You can set your clothes and purse in this bin.”

Kirsten stood there blinking for a moment, and the nurse’s sweet face seemed to take on a look of pity.

“It’s alright, dear,” she said. “You’ll get it all back at the end of your session.”

That was supposed to be reassuring, Kirsten supposed. But she was still stuck on the fact that she had to take her clothes off at all, let alone leave her belongings and her phone, her only lifeline to the outside world, here in this room while she was presumably brought somewhere else.

She took the gown from the nurse, who smiled brightly at her again.

“Can you… are you going to leave the room?” Kirsten asked.

“No, honey,” the nurse said. “But I won’t be staring, don’t worry. I’ll be setting up your initial attentiveness test over here.” She walked over to the other side of the room and busied herself with the projector screen.

Kirsten hurriedly stripped out of her jeans and T-shirt, throwing them in the bin on the table before slipping on the gown. She was just about to reach around and struggle with the two ties when she heard the nurse clear her throat.

“Everything comes off under the gown, sweetie.” Her voice was still soft, but Kirsten thought she could hear a slight edge to it now.

“Can’t I just keep my underwear on?” Kirsten asked. She figured if she had a chance of appealing to anyone here, it would be this nurse.

“It’s up to you, honey. But the doctor won’t be happy when he sees you’ve disobeyed his instructions.” She let that statement hang in the air ominously.

Deciding that this day would only end up being a lot harder for her if she didn’t follow instructions, Kirsten reluctantly reached behind her back to unhook her bra, then even more reluctantly removed her panties and placed both items, along with her shoes and socks, in the bin.

“Smart girl,” the nurse praised cheerfully, coming over to stand behind Kirsten and help her with the gown’s ties. “Now, sit at the table there. This test is quick. It will just flash patterns on the screen, and you’ll select the correct shape for the next piece of the pattern on this form.”

Kirsten wrinkled her brow as she sat at the table and peered down at the test.

“Why do I have to take this?” she asked.

“It helps us assess your ability to remain attentive to tasks that you may find boring, repetitive, or otherwise unpleasant. Things like, say, filing tax forms…”

The pause after that last sentence made clear as surely as an exaggerated wink would have that the nurse knew exactly why Kirsten was here.

“Think of it as the cognitive part of your exam. After this the doctor will give you the physical part of the exam.”

Fantastic. Can’t fucking wait.

Kirsten knew better than to let her annoyance show, but this was all so ridiculous. Why were they examining her at all? All she had done was procrastinate with her tax forms a few times.

“Here we go,” the nurse said, and Kirsten scrambled to pick up her pencil in time for the first pattern to flash on the screen.

There were maybe twenty patterns in all, and they got harder as they progressed. Still, Kirsten felt fairly confident in her answers. When she was done, the nurse collected her paper.

“Alright, dear, follow me to your exam room.”

The nurse led her down the hall in what felt like the longest “walk of shame” she could imagine, passing closed door after door. How big was this place? How many of these “treatments” did they perform each day?

The hallway was eerily quiet, but she thought she could hear muffled cries behind the doors of a couple of the rooms as they walked by. It may have just been in her head, though.

Finally, they entered a room to the right. It looked… fairly normal. An exam table in the middle, cupboards all around, and a sink off to one side. A full-length mirror leaned against one of the walls. There were two chairs near the entrance, and the nurse gestured toward one of them.

“Take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said before leaving the room.

Kirsten looked around, suddenly feeling cold and way too exposed under the scratchy gown. She found herself wondering what this doctor would be like. Would he be cold and mean like the front-desk lady? Would he be nice like the nurse? She hoped for the latter of course, but she also knew she wasn’t here for particularly… nice reasons.

Why would the court assign non-violent offenders—as she’d heard herself described at her sentencing—to sessions with doctors anyway? She wasn’t ill, though she had tried that excuse in a desperate attempt to appease the judge during her hearing. She thought she remembered reading somewhere that the CTF had the goal of rehabilitating its patients through very specific treatment plans, but she still wasn’t sure why that would need to involve actual medical professionals?—

“Hello, Kirsten. I’m Dr. Harris.”

Kirsten was jarred from her thoughts by the businesslike but not unkind voice of a man who must have just entered the room.

Judging by his attire, he was a doctor.

The hottest doctor who ever lived.

For a moment, she thought this must be some sort of prank. This man wasn’t a physician. Or if he was, he was a physician to the gods. Tall, broad-shouldered, with silky chestnut hair, piercing eyes, and a strong chin. It was as if he’d been taken directly from her naughtiest fantasies.

When he spoke again, his voice remained the perfect mixture of firmness and friendliness.

“Go ahead and take a seat on the exam table, and we’ll discuss why you’re here today.”

Kirsten did as she was told, partly to avoid getting herself in more trouble than she was already, but mainly because when a man who looked and spoke like this one gave her an order, her body was apparently all but compelled to obey.

“Why don’t you tell me in your own words why you’re here, Kirsten,” he instructed once she was seated on the table.

Kirsten blushed a little. It was an embarrassing thing to discuss, being sent here for… whatever treatment was in store for her, simply to deal with what she considered to be an overreaction to filing some forms a little late a few times.

Nonetheless, she knew she had to answer. “Well, I’m here because I was sentenced to treatment here by the court. The judge said I might benefit from the uh… methods you employ.”

“I see, and what exactly were you convicted of in court, Kirsten?”

“Um… I’m a little late filing my taxes for last year.” Kirsten paused, debating with herself whether to discuss all details of her conviction, or whether to stick with what she believed to be the primary issue which had displeased the government. She decided on just the one issue for now.

Unfortunately, her decision was overridden moments later when Dr. Harris spoke again. “I see that information on your sentencing referral, but I see several other things as well. Would you care to elaborate?”

Kirsten didn’t care to elaborate, but the doctor’s tone didn’t give her much choice, so she began to explain further. “I… well, it wasn’t only last year that I missed the tax deadline for.”

“It says here that you’ve failed to file any tax forms for the past three years, since you began your employment with Horizon Banking Group,” the doctor cut in.

“Yeah, that sounds right. But I’ve been paying the taxes, I swear. I just need to catch up on the paperwork…”

“It says here that you’ve avoided all correspondence with the IRS, be it through mail or phone calls for those three years as well,” the doctor interrupted a second time, his tone growing more scolding with each of Kirsten’s half-truths. “What else?” he prompted.

“I… I haven’t felt well for a while now. I think it’s some type of chronic stomach issue, and sometimes I get headaches… I told the judge that, but she didn’t believe me.”

She had tried to tell the judge that, but it had sounded so lame at the time that she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to try the “But I’m sick!” excuse again here. So much for that…

“I see,” said the doctor, sounding as if he had now formed a pretty firm opinion on Kirsten’s issues with the law and what needed to be done about them. “Let’s go ahead and start your exam.”

The first few minutes of Kirsten’s examination were routine and trivial, to the point that she found herself going from apprehensive all the way to bored fairly quickly. The doctor checked her heart rate and blood pressure and tapped her knee with one of those little rubber mallets she remembered from childhood exams. He checked her ears, nose, and throat. He rechecked her weight and height despite the nurse having checked those earlier. When he was finished, he told her to sit on the table again.

His next instruction seemed every bit as routine as the rest. “I’ll need to take your temperature now, so go ahead and get yourself ready for that.”

Unsure of exactly what he meant but remembering how her temperature had been taken by doctors growing up, she opened her mouth. Truth be told, she was somewhat surprised he wasn’t planning on using one of the more modern thermometers that would be touched to her forehead or slipped into her ear, but there was something old-fashioned about the man, so perhaps it wasn’t surprising that he intended to put a thermometer under her tongue.

When he picked up what appeared to be a thermometer from the 1950s, her suspicions that she was dealing with an old-school doctor were confirmed, and she felt a twinge of strange pride at having known what to expect and having opened her mouth like a good girl.

The tone of his next words, however, in no way suggested that he felt she was being a good girl. “Young lady, I told you to get ready to have your temperature taken.”

“What… what do you mean, doctor?”

“We take temperatures the old-fashioned way here, Kirsten. I’m sure you know exactly what that means.”

Oh my God.

It couldn’t possibly be that he planned to take her temperature that way . She could never recall having a thermometer there in her life.

“I’ll need you to roll over. We’re on a tight schedule here, so please don’t dawdle.”

Despite her intense desire to hop off the table and run out of the exam room, Kirsten slowly and hesitantly obeyed. Once face down, she felt cool air brush against the open strip at the back of her gown and thoughts of what the doctor must be seeing jumped to the forefront of her mind.

With a quick intake of breath, a far more shameful thought struck her. In mere moments, he wouldn’t just be seeing her bare bottom, he would be seeing everything between her currently tightly clenched cheeks. He’d be seeing her bottom hole .

Her embarrassment increased dramatically just a moment later when she felt the doctor part the sides of her gown, leaving her backside fully on display. She was bare-assed in front of the most handsome doctor she had ever seen, about to have her temperature taken like a little girl.

She tried to hide her face in the pad at the top of the table. As she felt his eyes roaming over her naked behind, her pussy clenched.

Oh God. Surely this wasn’t arousing her? It couldn’t be. Could it?

“I won’t be able to insert the thermometer with your cheeks clenched that tightly, young lady. Please spread your legs for me.”

Spread her legs? But then he would see…

Oh God.

He would see her bare, soaking wet pussy.

“Please… please doctor, I can unclench my cheeks!” Kirsten said in a panicky voice before doing her best to prove that she could do just that, allowing her bottom to relax to demonstrate that there was no need for her to spread her legs.

Slap! Slap!

Before she could even fully absorb what had happened, his broad, thick palm had fallen twice, hard and fast, landing a stinging spank on first her left and then her right bottom cheek.

Kirsten froze, not sure how to respond. Had this medical professional just spanked her?

The fiery handprints on each cheek told her that he had in fact done just that.

Before she could muster the courage to speak, to protest, to do anything, she heard his very firm voice. “Kirsten, I’ve told you multiple times that we do things on a tight schedule here, and your obedience to my instructions is required for your treatment to be successful. You already signed the consent forms provided by the nurse, and you were warned that our methods here are unconventional. Unless you’d like to find out just how unconventional they can be right away, you’ll do exactly as you’re told for the remainder of this exam.”

Her protests died on her lips before she could even open her mouth. What was there to say to that? She knew if she truly wanted she could hop off the table and leave, but that would mean going back to court and trying to explain to them why she had failed to follow the instructions of the doctor they had specifically chosen for her. It would almost certainly mean ending up with a hefty fine, and very likely some jail time.

But the true reason she stayed there on the table had nothing to do with any court.

Her body had no intention of doing anything other than obeying the sternly sexy bastard who had just spanked her bare ass like he owned it, regardless of what her mind might want.

She spread her legs, slightly at first but then wider, deciding that there was no need to provoke him with halfhearted compliance. She knew what she was exposing, and a moment later he made it clear that he was not going to allow her to pretend that she was not visibly aroused.

“I see that I won’t need Vaseline for the thermometer,” Dr. Harris said. His tone was amused but not sarcastic. If anything, it was a little husky.

Was he enjoying himself as well?

Kirsten’s face heated at that thought, but she truly learned what blushing meant a moment later when the tip of the thermometer slid through the wet folds of her pussy. She felt Dr. Harris’ left hand on her still stinging bottom, and with his thumb and two fingers he parted her cheeks.

He paused. A moment passed, and then another.

He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was staring at her naughtiest hole.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take the humiliation any longer, the tip of the thermometer touched her anus. He didn’t slide it in yet, just held it there, letting her anticipate what was coming. When he finally forced the tip inside, it slipped in easily, her wetness serving its purpose as lubricant. Inch by inch he slid it in until it was fully seated in her bottom.

“Keep your cheeks clenched to hold that in until I’m ready to read it, young lady.”

He said nothing as she lay there for what seemed like ages but was probably only a minute. At last she felt his fingers on the thermometer again, and she unclenched, assuming he was about to pull it free. Instead, he slid it in a little more, then back out a little, then in and out more rapidly, twisting it a little as he did so. What medical value this could have she had no idea, and she was fairly certain it had none, but she didn’t dare protest. After perhaps a minute of this, he slipped the instrument from her tight hole and held it up for inspection.

“Your temperature is normal. You may sit up again, Kirsten,” he said in his usual gentle-but-firm tone.

As he spoke the words, she felt the doctor fold the two sides of her gown over her bottom, covering her as much as the garment allowed. She rolled over and resumed a sitting position, doing her best to hide her blushing cheeks by looking at the ground.

“We need to discuss your treatment now, Kirsten.”

Kirsten knew instinctively that Dr. Harris wanted her to look him in the eye before he began explaining to her what she could expect moving forward, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it, not after what had just happened. Not only her anus clenched around a thermometer, but also her drenched pussy had been on shameful display for him just moments ago, and now he wanted to talk like they were discussing her cholesterol levels.

Dr. Harris seemed to understand that she had no plans of looking up at him, and he took matters into his own hands, lifting her chin with two fingers so she was compelled to look him in the eyes, blush or no blush.

“Young lady,” he said, his tone purely gentle now, “I understand that what just happened was embarrassing. I must warn you that you will find many of your other treatments far, far more embarrassing. But I am also confident that they will be highly effective, and when we are finished, not only the court, but you yourself will be pleased with the results.”

For some reason, the gentle tone was harder to bear than his earlier stern one. It felt like he cared about her. Maybe it was an act, but something deep inside said it wasn’t, and that no matter how much she might hate to admit it, they both knew she needed everything she had coming.

“Yes doctor. I understand.”

“You signed most of our forms out in the waiting room, but I prefer to get a signature on this last one after the preliminaries are out of the way and you have at least some idea of the nature of our treatments.” He held out a tablet and pointed to a spot where she could sign with her finger.

She moved to do so almost immediately, but he stopped her, now speaking with a scolding tone. “Please read the form first, Kirsten. I know patients don’t always read everything a doctor’s office gives them, but this one is worth taking the time to understand.”

As she read through the form in mounting horror, she was overwhelmed by embarrassment both at having gotten herself into this predicament in the first place and at the mere thought of experiencing any of the treatments the form described. Yet at the same time, there was also an undeniable anticipation bordering on the kind of helpless arousal she’d experienced moments ago.

With a quivering finger, she drew her signature in the indicated spot on the tablet.

“Good girl,” he said simply.

Her pussy clenched hard. She liked being his good girl.

“Now that all the preliminaries are out of the way, we’ll begin your first treatment. It’s time to remove your gown, Kirsten.”

She had known this was coming, of course. Everything implied by the document she just signed made it obvious that at some point, and probably some point soon, her gown would be coming off. But to actually be told it was time to remove it nonetheless came as a shock.

Every fiber of her being wanted to protest.

Well, not every fiber…

There was a part of her that demanded she obey without hesitation. That part told her she should be on display for the man who was about to correct her. She didn’t know if it was that shamefully-ready-to-submit part of her that won out, or the part that didn’t want another spanking, but in any case, she reached back to undo the strings of her gown.

“It’ll be easier if I take it off,” the doctor spoke, his gentle tone returning. “Stand up for me, Kirsten, and turn around.”

She did so, knowing she would be partially exposing her bottom again, but happy to hide her blushing cheeks for a moment. Besides, what did it matter? Soon he would see everything.

His fingers worked deftly to untie her gown, and then he slipped it from her shoulders.

Kirsten was bare.