Treatment Centre

Claire snapped awake at the buzzer in her room, immediately getting up off the simple cot, her bare feet smacking the cold tile. The room, or cell really, was plain, a cot (which ominously included built-in wrist and ankle restraints), sink, stainless steel toilet. She winced as she rose, her small, pert bottom criss-crossed with exactly one hundred weals from the judicial caning she'd received just a few days prior. Her ass had resembled hamburger that day, it was slowly healing, but she'd have marks for some time to come. Her sentence had been carried out, livestreamed, a mere week after she was charged. Unauthorized masturbation was a serious offense, and she'd been caught red-(or in this case, pink)handed. The sentence of 100 cane strokes on her bottom was actually a light one, given her first offense. But that was only the punitive component, she'd also been sentenced to the treatment centre she now found herself in. Her first night, the cries and squeals of other girls locked in their rooms had kept her awake until the small hours of the morning. Now, at the alarm buzzer, her first day of treatment would begin.

Claire was tall, thin, a natural redhead. She kept her hair cut scandalously short in a pixie cut, which did complement her delicate angular facial features–high cheekbones and sharp nose–as well as her very pale, porcelain white skin beautifully. Her fair skin is adorned with a sprinkling of freckles, dancing across her nose, and her petite, lithe body delightfully. She stood now in the cold bare room naked, her small apple-sized breasts rising and falling with each nervous breath. She'd heard stories about the treatments that took place here, and all of them sent shivers down her spine.

After waiting at attention for what felt like an eternity, a man appeared at the glass door. Dressed in a long lab coat, with a surgical mask covering his face and hawkish glasses that sat on the end of his nose, he looked like a doctor of some kind. He glanced at a chart, nodding, then unclasped his keychain from his belt. Claire saw that a small wooden paddle hung there also, a sign of obvious authority in this place. The door swung open and the man stood, reading.

"Claire Devereux. 22, good family, promising career. Convicted of class 1 onanism with aggravated circumstances. I see here that you used a vibrator, is that correct?" The man's voice was raspy, and he spoke in a clinical, matter-of-fact fashion that seemed unsettlingly emotionless.

"Ye..Yes. Sir." Claire instinctively draped an arm over her breasts, another covering her bare crotch, then caught herself and snapped back to attention, folding her arms behind the small of her back.

"Mmm...mhmm. Well, we'll put a stop to that behaviour here, don't you worry. Follow me please." The man turned and started walking down the hallway, lit with flickering overhead lights.

Claire followed dutifully, casting eyes into the rooms as she passed. She couldn't see much, but one room saw a girl writhing on her bed, pulling against the straps that held her arms and ankles fast, and letting out agonizing squeals. The doctor didn't pay any mind to the other 'patients', leading Claire through swinging double doors into a large room that looked almost like a surgery. It had a desk and cabinet, a stainless steel examination chair with a wide back and stirrups, and a simple drain in the tiled floor. An array of small straps hung from the walls.

"Before we begin Claire, I have a few more questions for you. Please answer truthfully, as any falsehoods could result in additional judicial punishments." The doctor flipped a page over as a nurse entered the room with a small silver tray. On it Claire was puzzled to see a plain disposable shaving razor and bottle of shaving cream.

"First question. How often did you masturbate before being caught, and was it always with the vibrator?" The man looked up at her sharply, his eyes boring into hers. The nurse, a 30-something, curvy woman with blonde hair tied into a tight bun beneath a hairnet, stood to his side, her hands folded behind her back.

"Umm...I..." Claire's heart raced, her face blushing a deep red. "Once...once a week? Sometimes twice....and, no, sometimes with my hands."

The nurse winced, the doctor shook his head.

"Unbelievable. Such self-satisfaction is deeply unclean and quite concerning. We have a long treatment road ahead, I believe." The man scribbled on his notepad. "Ok. And did you bring yourself to orgasm mainly through clitoral stimulation? Or was there vaginal or anal penetration involved also?"

Claire shifted uncomfortably. Her bottom still throbbed from the angry red stripes that decorated it.

"I...sometimes I used my fingers, or other..um..things, inside. I didn't....I didn't do anything in my butt." The man levelled his gaze on her, and scribbled more notes.

"We'll confirm that momentarily. Now, before we get started, I'll need you to urinate. Please squat over the drain and empty your bladder."

"But...I don't have to.." Claire balked, the two staring at her, waiting.

The man wordlessly unclasped the paddle from his belt, gripped Claire by the shoulder and bent her over at the waist, and landed six rapid blows to each of her swollen, weal-covered cheeks. The explosive *SPLAT* of each stroke echoed off the walls, as did Claire's cries.

"I did not ask you if you had to. I gave you an order. Now, empty your bladder, or we can take you back to the courthouse for non-compliance of your treatment. That would mean a repeat of your earlier sentence."

Sobbing with the unimaginable pain from her now purple-splotched bottom, shuffled over to the drain and bent down. She closed her eyes as she managed to squeeze her bladder, a stream dribbling down to the drain. When she'd finished, the nurse came over with a clean wipe and swiped it over her crotch expertly, tossing it into a silver trashbin.

"Good. Now, I have no reason to believe you've been in violation of grooming standards in general, but given your incarceration and sentencing, it's clearly past-due for your pubic area to be attended to. The nurse will shave you clean and smooth, which is critical for our treatment program. Please sit down on the examination chair and place your legs in the stirrups. Mary, please ensure she is completely smooth. If I catch even one hair left you can bet you won't be sitting down for a week."

Claire, tears streaming down her face, got up on the table, gingerly placing her behind on the ice cold stainless steel, and wincing as she raised up her legs. She didn't have very much hair at all most of the time, and it'd only been a few weeks since she'd been taken into custody, but there was a scattering of ginger peach fuzz over her vulva and mound, and nurse Mary set to work immediately. The cold shaving cream burned slightly, as the razor methodically ran over her pubic mound, inner thighs and perineum. The nurse then gently ran it on the outside and inside of Claire's delicate lips, and the inside of her ass crack as well. Finally, she ran a washcloth over the area, finishing up with a pair of tweezers to snip any remaining hairs. Satisfied, the nurse stepped back and the male doctor returned to examine her work.

"Very good. This will do nicely for your treatment. Now. Claire, it is important that you be an enthusiastic and willing participant in this treatment in order for it to work. You made a declaration at your hearing that you wanted to go to treatment instead of further punitive custody, and we will now test that sincerity. I am not going to strap you down for this component. You must hold still and take your treatment properly. If I feel like you are obstructing me, we will need to start over."

Nurse Mary had gone over to the wall and selected the first strap hanging from a pin. It was a rubber tawse, about seven inches in total length, with two short tails about 4 inches long each. The nurse handed it to the doctor, who swished it in the air repeatedly, nodding. Then, without warning, he raised it over his shoulder and brought it down hard between Claire's legs. The two tails each landed perfectly upon her bare labia, snapping down with a nasty *CRACK* and knocking the wind out of her lungs. Her eyes widened, and she immediately reached to cover her now reddened and aching pussy.

"No, Claire. See, that is exactly what I said not to do. I'll note that for your review. Now. Remove your hands, and we will begin again. If you cover yourself one more time, I promise the consequences will be very severe."

The pussy whipping continued, the tawse snapping down again, and again, and again. Nurse Mary jumped at each *CRACK* of the wicked implement on Claire's rapidly reddening and puffy puss. Claire gripped the edge of the steel chair until her knuckles were white, each snap elicitng a sharp squeal from her lips. After two dozen, the Doctor stopped, returning the strap to Mary. The nurse brought it back to the wall, and selected the second, this one a single thin strand of leather. The doctor continued, landing the whip with expert precision diagonally across Claire's vulva, then back again, creating a lattice of sharp red welts raised over her lips. The girl shuddered in the chair, gripping tight with each explosive shot of pain. The process repeated itself, until her pussy was a swollen red mess, nearly doubling in size and burning an angry dark scarlet.

"Good. You will definitely not be touching yourself any time soon, will you Claire? I didn't think so. That will be a good start for your treatment. Nurse Mary will see to the next step."

Claire was taken back to her room, and strapped down onto the bed. Nurse Mary returned with a tray of several curious items; what looked like a see-through plastic diaper, some sanitary pads, and a jar of what looked like vaseline, but red. She stepped over, placing a thick rubber glove on, and lifted Claire's hips to shift the plastic pants into place beneath her butt. She put a single pad down, and then reached into the jar and pulled out a large dollop of the red substance. This she unceremoniously slapped down onto Claire's swollen, red, beaten pussy. In an instant, it begin to burn, hotter, and hotter. The nurse rubbed it over her crotch well, then placed another dollop onto the pad. Before Claire could protest, she brought the diaper up over her front and clipped it shut, drawing strings to tighten it. What had begun as a simmering heat began to burn beyond anything Claire had felt before, and she screamed, writhing on the bed and straining against her restraints.

The nurse shook her head in sympathy. "It will burn hot all night I'm afraid, and then we'll come and change it tomorrow morning. The substance deadens your nerve endings for quite some time after a thorough treatment, so you won't be tempted to touch yourself again. It works, I know."

The nurse departed, leaving Claire in agony, strapped to her bed, her cries joining the many others in the treatment centre who had broken one of the Discipline Society's strictest taboos and laws.