Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is a work of erotic fan fiction.  I claim no ownership of any
characters in this fic; no depictions are meant as accurate reflections of
the celebrities on which these characters are based.  I have changed the
situations so much that I think (hope!) this can be enjoyed without needing
to know anything about the real people.

   I also claim no historical accuracy.  Anachronisms abound for the sake
of this depravity.

   Story codes: celeb, medic, slash, humil, enem, span

   ~~~~~~

   Louis tried his best to relax, like Niall had said to, but the dread of
what was to come had him fidgeting.  He'd lay down on the cot, on his side
and counting random things in the room, but as much as he hoped sleep would
come, it didn't.  He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing that no
instruments or devices were visible in the doctor's suite; they must be
hidden in the closets or the drawers in the desks positioned around the
room.

   He watched the clock on the doctor's bedside table tick through the
morning.  Just a few minutes after the clock struck twelve, the door opened
and Louis bolted upright, peering around the door to see who it was.

   "Hannah?"

   "Louis!" The blonde-haired nurse had a tray in her arms, which she put
down on the desk in the living room.  "I can't believe you're back.  Even
after--everything that happened last time."

   Louis frowned.  "I know...I suppose I thought there was simply no way I
could get caught twice."

   Hannah shook her head, giving him a sympathetic look.  "Rubbish luck. 
This is your lunch.  I'm to fetch you in a half hour for your exercise
period."

   First he had the entire morning to himself, he hadn't gotten the plug in
his arse, and now he was going straight to exercise hour without so much as
seeing the doctor?  Confused as he was, Louis had the sense to bite his
tongue, and only nodded.

   Lunch was simple but nourishing, just as he remembered, but exercise
hour was--well, without the other boys to start a game of pickup footie
with or to sit and talk to, it was boring.  Louis found himself kicking the
football against the brick walls surrounding the courtyard again and again,
over and over until Niall called him to come back inside.

   Niall, despite working in such a depressing place, was always in a
chipper mood, and Louis could almost trust him, so he decided to take a
chance.  "Niall," he asked on the way back to the suite, "do you know
anything about my treatments this time around?"

   "I know that this stay is only for two weeks, and that Doctor Styles has
taken over all of your treatments, but that is all I can tell you," the
blond replied with a shrug.

   Two weeks!  That was a welcome surprise.  The last stay was a month; he
could make it through this one.  He hoped.

   When Niall dropped him back off at Harry's, the doctor was not in, but
there was a note addressed to Louis sitting on the table when he entered.



   Louis-

   I am supervising exercise hour for the other boys.  When I come back I
expect you to have written `I am a filthy boy' one hundred times.  Write
legibly or you will be doing it again.  If you do not finish in time, you
will get one stroke with the flogger for every line you have missed.

   Louis looked at the clock.  One-thirty.  If he remembered his schedule
from the last time, he had an hour to write a hundred lines.  He could do
that.  Next to the note was a nib pen, ink, and a notebook.  Louis sighed,
sitting down to start on his lines.  It felt like he was back in school,
staying behind after getting in trouble for making mischief.  Well, he
would take this any day over other treatments.  The words, though, the
words brought a light tint of pink to his cheeks.

   Writing quickly but as neatly as he could, he finished with only minutes
to spare.  He groaned, stretching out his hand and wrist where it was sore
from gripping the pen.  The note hadn't said what to do when he finished,
so he remained at the desk.  Harry came in the door minutes later, his
steely gaze going straight to Louis.

   "Have you finished your lines?"

   "Yes, Harry." Louis pushed the open notebook toward Harry to show him
the finished work.

   "Hmm." Harry paused, flipping through the pages.  Louis wondered if he
was counting to make sure Louis had done all one hundred.  "Good boy.  Stay
here." He went over to a panel in the wall and for a moment Louis though he
was pulling the wood detailing off, but instead Harry unfolded a hidden
table, with legs that sprang out to hold it up.  Leather straps hung off
the surface, positioned all around the edges.  Louis gulped, stealing a
glance around the room.  What other horrors were hidden out of sight? 
"Come, up on the table.  Elbows and knees."

   Nervous, Louis crossed the room, clambered up on the table, and assumed
the position, head dropping between his shoulders in shame.  The next thing
he felt was a dry fingertip circling his rim, making him clench in
anticipation.  "I am sorry I couldn't do this earlier," said Harry from
somewhere behind him, before taking his hand away, "but your treatments
will start now.  I trust you remember them?"

   Louis nodded, which Harry apparently was not happy about.  A sharp smack
to the bum prompted him to spit out a nervous "Yes, Harry."

   "Good.  You'll receive your enema and your plug now.  After that, you
will be paddled."

   Oddly, the threat of what was to come didn't faze Louis.  He'd had it
all before, the last time.  It all seemed very normal for the home, but he
didn't dare question anything.  If the doctor wanted to let him off easy
with lines, Louis wouldn't argue.  The next thing he felt was the familiar
sensation of a greased finger probing at his entrance, steadily pushing at
him until his hole accommodated the intrusion.  He did his best not to
squirm, knowing he'd probably receive another spank for it.

   Harry noticed.  "You're being a very good boy, Louis," he murmured,
taking his finger away and replacing it with the enema nozzle.

   "Thank you," Louis managed, unsure if he was allowed to say anything,
but the doctor simply nodded and pushed the tip all the way in.  Seconds
later, the water began flowing into him, making Louis whimper softly and
bite at his lip.  Though he prayed for it not to, his cock twitched in
interest, and he tried to will it down but to no avail.

   Again, Harry noticed.  Nothing escaped the man.  "I nearly forgot how
much you enjoyed your treatments," he said.  Louis couldn't see him but the
doctor sounded like he was smiling.  "We shall see how you react to this
visit." Once the bag was empty and Louis' insides had started to cramp from
the solution, the nozzle was removed and Louis was directed to the chamber
pot in the corner of the room.  Once he was cleaned up, he was told to bend
over the same desk he'd sat at to write his lines.  When he went to hold
onto the edge, like he'd been instructed to do in Harry's office earlier in
the day, he was stopped.

   "No.  Lean on your elbows.  You'll be writing more lines," Harry told
him, nudging the pen, ink, and paper toward Louis' face.

   More lines!  The first hundred hadn't been enough?  His hand already
felt sore, and now he had to write more.  Still better than what could be,
he reminded himself, and he picked up the pen.  "What do I write?"

   "Not yet." The doctor's voice from just behind him, along with the sound
of a drawer opening.  Something blunt pressed against his rim, wider than
the enema nozzle, and again he forced himself to relax.  After a few long
moments of persistent pressure, the widest part of the plug had entered
him, and the rest went in easily.  It ached, the stretch of the rubber
holding him open and making him feel awfully exposed.  "Now then.  You will
write," Harry went on, "that you are a filthy boy who likes to be punished
by his doctor.  Fifty times.  You will read it aloud as you write, and
after you finish each one you will get one hit with the paddle."

   Louis' blush returned with fierceness.  That was even worse than the
last lines, and the worst part was they were true.  Harry's new methods
seemed to be humiliation.  Well, it was working.  "Yes, Harry." His mouth
suddenly dry, he dipped the pen in the inkwell and put it to paper, reading
out loud as he wrote: "I am...a filthy boy...who...likes...to be
punished...by his doctor," he squeaked out, the pen jerking in his hand
nervously.  Moments after he finished the R in doctor, the paddle came down
on his bare arse, making him yelp and nearly knock the inkwell over.  He
was sure it was no mistake that the paddle came down on the base of the
plug at the same time, forcing it deeper inside of him.

   "Forty-nine more."

   Forty-nine swats and forty-nine lines later, Louis' bum and cheeks felt
the same shade of crimson.  He dropped the pen, flexing his fingers and
bending his wrist back and forth.

   "Good boy," Harry praised him, putting the paddle down next to Louis'
left elbow.  "I must go treat the other boys now, but whilst I'm gone, you
are to do some reading.  In the top drawer of this desk there is a book. 
However much you read before dinner is fine.  I just want you to read it
all before you go home." Harry pointed to the drawer in question before
turning abruptly and leaving the room with a slam of the heavy door.

   First lines, now reading?  If Harry was going to treat him like a
student, well, there were definitely worse ways to spend the time.  Louis
sat down, leaning over to open the drawer and remove the book.  The cover
was red, the corners slightly dented from use, and bore gold letters
reading: "The Art of Punishment: Effective Methods For Boys And Young Men."
Underneath, a smaller row of letters spelled out: "Doctor Harry Styles."
So his doctor wrote a book on punishment and now expected him to read
it. No doubt it would detail some of the ordeals that had been used on
Louis, and he wasn't looking forward to reliving them, no matter how
aroused they made him after the fact.  It looked well-worn, the pages not
lying completely flat between the covers, and Louis wondered who else had

read this book.  Liam, probably.  Niall?

   And then he wondered how the doctor would know he'd read it.  Almost
immediately, he rejected the idea of not reading it.  Knowing Harry, he
would interrogate Louis on the material.  Perhaps even give him a written
exam.  The entire treatment regimen already seemed enough like school.

   With a deep sigh, he brought the book back to his cot, put his feet up,
and settled in to start reading.



   Chapter 1: Introduction

   Punishment, though seemingly cruel at times, is crucial to the proper
development of a young man.  Without certain measures of punishment, he is
taught that his actions have no consequences; a man who does not understand
that actions detrimental to the well-being of society can and should have
consequences is a danger to all, himself included.  It is for this reason
that I have taken the liberty of detailing appropriate punishments and
methods of dealing with unruly boys.



   The rest of the chapter went on endlessly, a dozen pages of why
punishment was necessary.  Once he finished, Louis flipped back to the
table of contents to see exactly which punishments Harry was going to
discuss.  The answer, as he found, was absolutely everything.  The first
section contained separate chapters for spanking with the hand, paddles,
whips, canes, switches, straps, and "others," and the second was dedicated
to anal punishments.  Louis felt his face drain of colour at the same time
his heart sped up.  Two hundred pages of the very punishments he'd been
suffering...how would he manage?  It was only after several deep breaths
and a reluctant gulp that he turned back to where he left off.



   Chapter 2: Hand Spanking

   A hand spanking is the most basic of corporal punishments, and is often
introduced early in childhood.  As such, it is likely the first form of
punishment a child receives in his lifetime.  The intensity of spanking a
child by hand can vary from a simple light tap on the buttocks to a more
thorough thrashing that results in pain to last for a day or two.



   Louis was halfway through the chapter when the door opened and Hannah
came in, carrying his dinner on a tray.

   "Hi, Lou," she called to him with a smile.  "First day alright?"

   Louis shrugged, swinging his feet over the edge to sit up straight.  "It
could be far worse.  Though I don't want to speak too soon." He took the
tray from her and balanced it on his knees so he could eat.  Before she
could leave, though, he stopped her.  "Do you, er, do you have things to
do?"

   She furrowed her brows.  "No, why?"

   "Would you be able to sit here with me?" he asked, patting the spot on
the bed next to him.  "It get lonely eating all by myself."

   "Of course I can keep you company.  It saves me the trouble to walking
all the way back later to fetch your tray," she said with a laugh, taking a
seat and smoothing out her crisp white uniform.  As Louis ate, he watched
as she picked up the book and began to leaf through it.  "Louis, where did
you get this?" she asked, looking at him with alarm.  "Did you go through
Doctor Styles's belongings?  Louis, this needs to go back where you found
it or--"

   "Don't worry," Louis told her with a chuckle.  "He told me to read it
during my free time.  Wants me to read it all by the time I leave.  He
really likes to humiliate, doesn't he?"

   Hannah nodded once.  "It is usually rather effective," she said, looking
off to the side as though looking for a memory.  Louis couldn't imagine how
many patients she'd seen go through this place, how many public punishments
she had witnessed.  "But clearly, not for everybody," she added, looking at
him knowingly.

   If Louis blushed and thrust the tray back into her arms with a sputter,
nobody but Hannah had to know.  Two weeks.  He could survive two weeks.