The Problem

Dr. Nobili watches Izabella De Cruz close the office door. "I have this little problem," Izabella says, cheeks flushed. Nobili smiles and slides a syringe across the desk. "Relax. The treatment works faster if you don't fight it." Sleep hits hard. When Izabella's eyes open again, leather cuffs bite her wrists and ankles. Ankles spread wide, she is face-down across the padded table. Cool air licks her bare skin. A strap across her lower back pins her hips flat. Nobili enters carrying a thick-handled riding crop. The first strike lands across Izabella's ass; the crack hangs in the room and then soaks into skin like liquor. The second bite lands lower, catching tender thigh. Izabella jerks but cannot roll away. Each stroke sends fire shooting up her spine, then settling in her cunt like slow heat. Nobili pauses only to run leather down the hot welts, pressing, spreading the sting deeper. Sweat glistens between Izabella's shoulder blades. Her clit throbs against the leather beneath her, aching for friction she will never be given. Nobili lands another sharp blow—then one more—watching wetness gather along Izabella's slit, proof the cure is working.