Professional Discipline

Cheryl's heart nearly pounded out of her chest.

"Harold, Harold, please don't -- You can't let this happen, I'd rather be thrown out of the residency than actually be subjected to --"

"Dear Dr. Hascombe. Relax. Look, I cannot promise there will be no discomfort. And we shall, of course, be monitoring your little interlude with Briggs from my study – oh, the wonders of modern technology! But I'm sure your specific fears are quite groundless."

"But -- outside? With no clothes on? Why --"

"It's a warm night. The mosquitoes have long since gone. And there's not a living soul for a mile in any direction. So what possible objection could there be? And in the barn -- well, as I said, we prefer to leave certain tiresome details to Briggs. Go ahead, Briggs. All this talk is making me quite hungry, and the sooner you accomplish your assignment, the sooner we can eat."

"Yes, of course, sir."

Feeling weak, the pupils of her eyes large and black, her breath coming in short gasps, Cheryl abandoned her futile protests. She tried desperately to think. Perhaps escape might be possible, once she was outside. Briggs was a strong and powerful man, resisting him would obviously be quite impossible. But she might be able to outrun him. The thought was no sooner formed than abandoned. Run where? Stark naked, the nearest person who knew how far away? Philosophically, she shrugged. Would rape actually be so terrible, anyway? He certainly was a big man...

She stood up again. In a deliberate gesture of proud defiance, she held herself tall and unashamed before the men, letting her bust swell with her indrawn breath as she tightened the muscles of her abdomen. The high-heeled shoes accentuated her nudity. Cheryl was feeling extremely sexy. It was very plain to her that the men were responding in similar vein.

Briggs preceded Cheryl to the back door of the huge house, leading her across the stone-flagged floor of a rear kitchen. She was conscious of cool drafts all over her body, tickling in unaccustomed places. Pausing at the door, Briggs asked her to go ahead of him, then he surprised her by grabbing her wrists behind her back and handcuffing them together.

"What the hell!"

"Don't worry, Doctor, this is quite routine. Dr. Masters' female guests are always kept in restraints until we come back to the house again."

"In restraints? What on earth for? What --"

Cheryl's mind was racing. Ha. There goes the escape plan. She paused, frowning. But do I really want to escape? Would it really be that bad to be raped by this guy? She quickly suppressed an involuntary whimper as her insides surged with erotic anticipation. Controlling herself, she started again.

"What am I supposed to call you, anyway? Mr. Briggs?"

"Briggs will do fine, Doctor."

She gave him a questioning look, her head on one side. She was acutely aware of her nudity.

"And why the hell do you keep calling me Doctor, for goodness' sake? I've got no clothes on! I'm in handcuffs!"

She paused again, then shouted at him.

"This whole thing is utterly bizarre beyond belief!"

"I regret that I cannot enter into a debate about this, Doctor. Come along, please. You might wish to kick your shoes off. The path is sandy; it won't hurt your feet."

Briggs grasped the chain connecting Cheryl's handcuffs and gently propelled her along before him as they followed the path uphill. She had never felt such a tide of erotic sensations as she was experiencing at that moment, making a show of reluctance and stumbling as the large man pushed her towards the isolated outbuilding.

The sand tickled the soles of her feet. The scent of fall was in the warm air. Masters had been right; except for Briggs, there was no-one remotely in view. Well-tended lawns stretched away on both sides of the path. The building they were approaching looked very old and very large.

Cheryl devoted all her attention to readying herself, physically and mentally, for what she anticipated would be Briggs' earnest and enthusiastic attentions once they were alone inside the building.

But Briggs was talking again, urgently.

"Listen, Doctor. As soon as we're in the barn, Dr. Masters will be able to hear every word and see everything we do over the video system, so I have to tell you this now. Please take my advice. If you want to keep any discomfort to an absolute minimum, you must register your distress as loudly and clearly as you possibly can. Do you understand? I am quite serious. Loudly and clearly. Yes?"

Cheryl was looking utterly bewildered.

"You mean I have to scream and yell while you're raping me?"

Briggs looked horrified.

"Rape? Good heavens, no! Of course not!"

"Well, what, then?"

"Quiet, please! Here's the door."

As they entered the building Cheryl was struck by the immense size of the structure, a huge stone barn that looked as if it had been hastily converted into minimally usable living space. The interior was unfinished; the walls were of cracked plaster, some of which had fallen away to reveal the stones of the outer structure. There was no ceiling beneath the high-pitched roof; one could see all the way up to the rafters. A thick cross beam ran across the entire span of the room at a height of about eight feet. A king size bed occupied the middle of the huge room, a king size bed with a tremendous brass head board and a lower brass railing at the foot. A pang of emotion hit Cheryl as she saw it.

"What happens now?" she asked, weakly, fleeting anxiety in her eyes.

Briggs walked over to the bed and picked something up from the coverlet at the foot. He sat down on the bed and beckoned to Cheryl.

"Come here, Doctor."

Cheryl strolled over to him, trying to look coy, her gait made awkward by the manacles that held her hands behind her. Briggs had mentioned video equipment; he hadn't been kidding. There were two large video cameras on tripods near the far wall, another mounted on the ceiling overhead, and even others at various strategic locations throughout the vast room. She drew in her breath sharply as she saw the gleaming lenses of the cameras moving to follow her.

What Briggs had in his hand looked like a short, wide leather belt, an old-fashioned shaving strop, maybe. Light dawned. A reflex surge of emotion made her heart pound and her insides turn to water as she realized what was going to happen.

"Lie across my lap, face down, doctor. Yes, that's it, feet to my right."

Cheryl was in a state of surreal consciousness, wanting to pinch herself to see if she was truly awake. Briggs was wearing his complete formal outfit, black suit, bow tie, wing-tip shoes; and she was squirming on his lap in the nude, her wrists shackled together behind her. Briggs was firmly holding the chain connecting the cuffs with his left hand, pressing down on the small of her back. The silky material of his suit felt sexy against her skin. She tried to turn her head to look up at him, but her hair fell across her face.

"Remember what I told you, Doctor," he whispered, earnestly.

Back at the house, Masters was talking to his step-daughter.

"That sly rogue Briggs has probably told her he'll go easy on her as long as she puts on a good act. Well, why not? As long as we get some good video footage!"

"Harold, you are a disgusting old pervert. But I can see why you're having her spanked. She has the cutest, most protuberant little round bottom!"

"Come into the study and we'll observe them on the video monitor. Dermot, what's the matter with you?"

Cairns looked sulky.

"I preferred the view of her from the front. If it were me, I would have tied her down on her back and..."

"Well, I'm afraid it's not your turn to direct tonight's scenario. Another time, perhaps."

In the barn Cheryl was whispering to Briggs as she wriggled on his lap.

"Briggs! This is my wildest fantasy come true! You're really going to give me a spanking?" She giggled involuntarily.

"Quiet, please, doctor! Any minute now he'll start watching us, and..."

Briggs paused as a metallic voice broke in, the unmistakable accents of Dr. Masters, apparently coming from the far wall.

"Very good, Briggs, that's just right, perfect. Cheryl, look over this way if you can. Yes, good. Go ahead as soon as you're ready, Briggs."

Briggs brought the strop down briskly on Cheryl's buttocks, eliciting a breathy gasp from her. He slapped her again with it, hard; she squealed and writhed on his lap.

Briggs drew his arm back and gave every appearance of putting all the muscle he could into the third blow, producing a most satisfying "thwack" and jerking a yelping scream from Cheryl. She picked up her head and looked over toward the cameras, red-faced and breathless. She shouted, hoarsely,

"Harold, you bastard, make him stop! Please!"

The metallic voice was laughing.

"You're doing very well, dear, but we can't stop just yet. Just one or two more for the sake of our Internet subscribers."

Cheryl was stunned into silence as she absorbed all the implications of that remark. But Briggs managed to distract her from her musings. The blazing sting of the next blow pulled a croaking scream out of her.

"Ow! Briggs, that hurt like hell!"

Her eyes looked wide with fear, her jaw slack. That one got her attention, Briggs thought, wryly.

"That's more like it. Give her a couple more like that, Briggs!" Masters was laughing merrily.

The next blow had Cheryl struggling uselessly to get away as she gasped and sobbed, her rear end on fire with smarting pain. Masters' guffawing could be heard distinctly as Cheryl tried desperately, and unsuccessfully, to twist away to avoid the next blow. All she was doing was sticking her rear end out more. She begged Briggs to stop, as if hardly conscious of her words.

"Please, enough's enough! I can't believe how much that thing hurts! I'll do anything if you'll stop, anything! I really mean it!"

For the last one, Briggs gave the belt a nasty little flick at the last second. Cheryl's screeching howl was followed by a series of racking sobs.

Briggs gently helped her to her feet. He did not remove the handcuffs, however.

"It's over, Doctor. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Like hell, you bastard. I'll give you cooperation if I ever get out of these restraints."

Cheryl glared at him, a study in moody resentment.

As soon as they were outside, Briggs said:

"That went extremely well, Doctor. I sincerely hope that any discomfort you may have experienced was short-lived and that your tears and protests were a tour de force of deception."

"Briggs, that was utterly fantastic!" Cheryl was smiling and laughing as she pranced along the path beside him. "Harold Masters certainly has some creative ways of entertaining his guests. That was the most incredibly erotic experience I have ever had in my life. You've got me as horny as hell. I don't suppose we could..."

"No, Doctor, I'm afraid we could not."

"Somehow I thought you were going to say that."

The sun was setting and it was cooler outside. Briggs took off his jacket and draped it over Cheryl's shoulders.

She thanked him, then stopped, looking pensive.

"Briggs, what happens next?"

"We'll return to the library and I'll remove those handcuffs. I expect Dr. Masters will allow you to put some clothes back on before you sit down to dinner."

Cheryl actually looked disappointed.

"Funny, I was just beginning to get used to it. It'll be a bit of a letdown, frankly, to get back into my clothes again." She paused. "There won't be any more – I mean, is anything else going to happen to me?" She looked up at him anxiously.

"No, no, Doctor. I'm quite certain Dr. Masters will judge that we've had quite enough excitement for one night."

"Good!" Relief lit up her face. Then she hesitated. "That Dr. Cairns... I really don't like him very much at all, Briggs."

"Yes, Doctor. Please don't worry. You won't have anything to fear from him. Not tonight, anyway."

"What do you mean, not tonight?"

"Well, there's always the next time, isn't there, Doctor Hascombe?"

To be continued...

© 2003 Allison Cranley