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These are strong thoughts and feelings to have upon meeting a girl, but I have an instinct when it comes to the sort of woman who needs spanking. Whatever they’ve done to Electra in this place, they haven’t broken her spirit. I can already tell she’ll fight forever, and likely enjoy it.

“What are we going to do with you?” I murmur the question as a conversational placeholder. I have a dozen ideas about what I’d like to do with her. Teach her how to behave, first, then take care of the other spark I sense in her. Most agents in this place don’t get proper outlet for their physical needs. I’d be surprised if Electra has ever let anyone near her.

“Keep trying to kill me until one day, they succeed,” she says with a shrug. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“To what, dying?”

“Yeah. Seems like a lot less work.”

“Mhm.”

“You don’t approve, do you, doc?”

I do not. But more than not approving, I’m amazed at the transformation of personality between now and when she was with her handler, and in the initial stages of my examination. I can only surmise she has decided I am not someone to be feared – which is a good thing. Intimidating my patients, especially the reluctant ones, is not my MO. Then again, neither is enabling the bad behavior of young ladies who really should have been taught better by now.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She’s squirming where she sits, her hips making those unmistakeable nervous movements which every girl gets before she meets a hot bottomed reckoning. I think it must be coded into the DNA, because I’m pretty sure this girl has never seen a lick of discipline in her life that didn’t come with a fist. What I do is different, and she already senses that.

“You knew better than to hit Tyko, didn’t you.” I phrase it as a statement, not a question.

“Apparently not.”

“Then you should be taught.”

“Oh yeah?” She cocks her head at me and gives me a look of pure smugness. “You should really listen to Tyko’s warnings about me.”

“And why’s that? Planning on punching me too?”

“Nah,” she says. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be hurt already.”

She’s an arrogant little thing. Needs bringing down a peg or six. Fortunately, I know how to handle girls who think they’re tough. My hands are practically itching with the desire to come down over that nicely shaped rear and teach her real discipline, not the brutal bullshit that passes for it in this place.

“I think you should get down and bend over the bed,” I say.

“Why’s that?”

“I want to check your tailbone more fully now you’ve decided to cooperate.”

“Who said I had?”

Electra

He fixes me with this stern look, but there’s nothing mean in it. I don’t know what to make of this doctor. Most of them would have fled by now, or forced a needle into me, or demanded that Tyko hold me down, or some other shitty thing that involved me having no say in what happened next.

But I don’t believe he wants to check my tailbone. I think he’s got another agenda. Now I’m curious. I’d usually never turn my back on anybody, but I have a feeling this is going to be different. I’m a risk taker, so I take the risk. The behavior is programmed into me, just the way punching assholes right in the kidneys is. When something gets my attention, I have to follow it. It’s like a compulsion.

I turn around, put my hands on the bed, and let the doctor examine my, well, it has to be my ass that he’s looking at. And now, touching. I can feel his hand running down my back to the base of my spine. He puts some pressure there, gently, testing my reactions. I could keep up the charade, but it amuses me more not to.

“Interesting,” he says. “It’s as if the injury has disappeared.”

“Or as if it never existed at all,” I murmur to myself. I’m not actually in pain. Tyko was right. I had a plan all along to be brought to the medical ward. I just couldn’t risk making it look like I wanted to be here. Plus, I enjoy fighting Tyko.

“Quite,” the doctor agrees. His voice takes on that note of sternness again. “Young lady, have you been wasting our time?”

“I haven’t been wasting mine,” I smirk down at the table. He’s so damn innocent I can hardly stand it. He just believed me because I told him something. Who does that?

“Mhm.” I feel his hand move back up my back. Usually when doctors touch me for too long, I break their hands. I don’t feel inclined to do that to him. I feel as though I have the upper hand, so no need to break his.

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