Work Text:
A Programme of Rehabilitation
The building loomed above Louis as he traipsed down the steps of the bus, following the two other boys who had been transported with him from the holding cells at the court rooms.
What a joke.
He’d been in trouble ever since he was around ten, with his first full arrest happening after breaking into a house when he was thirteen, which resulted in a suspended sentence. The freedom he’d been granted because of his young age didn’t persuade him to change his ways, though, and another break-in landed him his first juvenile detention sentence when he was just fourteen.
He was now eighteen, and his life had simply been a series of detentions, followed almost immediately by more break-ins, and more detentions. He always seemed to get caught; that was his problem—he was a tenacious and enthusiastic criminal, but not a very subtle one.
This time, the judge had finally admitted that another detention wasn’t the answer for Louis, and the sentencing had left Louis confused and intrigued.
The Petrovich Programme.
That’s what the judge had called it before explaining that it was a new and innovative programme of rehabilitation for young people who were persistent offenders and who didn’t respond well to traditional forms of correction.
Louis noticed the sign on the bulky, ugly building in front of him, the word “Petrovich” standing out in solid black letters above the austere stone arch above the front door. The building was a castle of sorts, but low and sprawling and in the middle of nowhere.
Somewhere up north, Louis thought, but he’d fallen asleep for large chunks of the interminable drive and had no idea where in the country they were; all he knew was that he hadn’t seen another house, shop, or person for the last hour of the journey.
Louis and the two other lads were ushered into the high ceilinged lobby by one of the sullen guards and ordered to stand and wait while they were handed over to the staff who were there to meet them. Louis’ mind drifted as he took in his surroundings, letting himself zone out and ignore the realities of the predicament he found himself in.
The lobby was sterile - no comforts or decorations, a plain, clean room with a reception desk and some hard plastic chairs. Each boy was asked to confirm their name and date of birth, and plastic bracelets were attached to each of their wrists, tight enough that they couldn’t come off but not so tight as to be uncomfortable.
“These will eventually be replaced with something more long-lasting,” the man behind the counter was saying as Louis zoned back in. “But for the moment, you will not even try to remove them, understood?”
The boys all nodded, and the man gave them a tight lipped frown. “You will confirm with words when asked a question by any staff member. Do you understand?” he said sternly, and Louis rolled his eyes but murmured a “yes” along with the other boys, too tired and grumpy to argue.
At this point, he just wanted to go to bed and sleep. The journey had taken hours, and sleeping with his head lolling against the metal of the bus seat had not eased his bone-deep fatigue, the result of too many nights spent on hard, cold cell beds.
The staff member said goodbye to the guards and locked the doors with several bolts and deadlocks after them, then turned, ushering the three of them into another room, which looked more like a hospital ward than anything else. He told them to sit and that the boss would be here soon to give them their induction talk.
It was around an hour later that the door opened and a man entered, and Louis’ stomach almost dropped through the floor.
The man was stunning - in his thirties, Louis guessed, with curly dark brown hair, the most incredible green eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. Louis couldn't take his eyes off him, and he internally cursed his teenage dick for twitching as the man surveyed the three of them critically, his eyes narrowed and his plush, pink lips pursed appraisingly.
“I am Dr. Styles,” the man said, and Louis shivered at his deep, slow voice. “I am the Director of the Petrovich Programme and Governor of this facility. You will call me Sir, or Dr. Styles, and nothing else. Is that understood?”
The other boys murmured their ascent, but Louis couldn't resist, determined to annoy the man in order to get his attention.
“Yes, mister Styles,” he drawled, smirking as the doctor looked at him curiously. Louis’ bravado was short lived. Dr. Styles moved in front of him and, painfully slowly, let his eyes rake the full length of Louis’ body. Louis felt heat in his face and tried to maintain his cheeky smirk under the unwavering, silent examination.
“You must be Louis Tomlinson,” the man said, a smirk of his own now on his beautiful face. Louis tried to avoid eye contact, knowing the annoying blush on his face would only get worse if he looked the man in the eye. “I’ve heard all about you, Louis,” he said quietly, leaning in as if they were sharing a secret. “And now I’ve finally met you, well, believe me, I can’t wait to start your rehabilitation.”
The last word made Louis shiver. The intonation and the way Dr. Styles emphasised the word left a sick feeling in Louis’ stomach. He didn’t know why, but Louis suddenly had the feeling that his life was about to change, and for the first time in his life, he felt a chill of concern about what lay in store for him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Louis had been taken to a shared room with the other boys at first, but just as he got himself settled on the thankfully comfortable single bed, the staff member from the lobby walked in and told him he was being taken to a different room.
Grumbling, he decided against arguing. The sooner he got to his new room, the sooner he could sleep, and at this point, he couldn’t care less who he shared with.
“Dr. Styles has assigned you one of our sole occupancy rooms,” the man said by way of explanation as they walked up a flight of stairs to the top floor of the building. The man - Mr. Hudson, apparently - repeated the information Louis had already heard about the door being locked from the outside and that no one other than staff would be allowed into this room.
Louis nodded wearily, mumbling his understanding when asked for a verbal response. He yawned as he dumped his meagre belongings next to the plain desk.
“Any other questions?” Mr. Hudson asked him, slightly impatiently, poised to leave the room. Louis arched an eyebrow at him curiously.
“How come I get my own room?” he asked, and Mr. Hudson shrugged, a small smile breaking onto his serious face.
“I believe Dr. Styles has a personalised programme in mind for you, Louis,” he said, stifling a grin. “And inmates on personalised programmes must be kept apart from those on the more general plans, to avoid either you or them becoming distracted from your treatment plans.”
Louis raised his eyebrows, processing this new development. Was he in solitary then? He’d been there before and was fine with it, honestly.
He shrugged and sat on the bed. “Whatever,” he grunted, giving the man an insolent look.
“You’ll have meals in the dining hall like everyone else for the moment, but you’ll eat on your own in a different section of the hall.” Mr. Hudson continued in a bored tone, “Unless Dr. Styles decides you need complete isolation, in which case they will be served here or in the treatment room. Tomorrow morning, someone will come and fetch you for breakfast. Be up and showered by 7:30 am sharp, and wear the uniform provided.”
Tiredness overtook his curiosity, and he simply nodded, verbally confirming he understood and swinging his legs up onto the bed - a bigger bed than in the previous room, a double that had never looked more inviting.
Mr. Hudson nodded and left, and as Louis heard the electronic door locks being applied, he quickly stripped, not bothering to wash or brush his teeth before snuggling down under the covers. Sleep took him almost instantly, and although his dreams were fractured and confused, they always seemed to come back to an intense pair of green, calculating eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breakfast was good. It was odd, being separate and alone in an otherwise busy and noisy dining hall filled with young men, but good anyway since the food was tasty and freshly prepared.
He didn’t mind being alone all that much; he’d never liked other lads his age. His friends, if the people he broke into houses with could really be called friends, were all older, mid to late 20s mostly, and they didn’t do small talk or pleasantries.
So Louis was happy, in his plain grey uniform of a fitted t-shirt and soft joggers, at his quiet table eating his tasty breakfast, and was happy to return to his quiet room while he waited for someone to come and fetch him for his first meeting with his “Treatment Lead,” which was scheduled for later that morning.
He’d been allowed a couple of books, so he laid on the comfortable bed, reading with a full tummy, allowing himself to doze off on the odd occasion. It was nice. He felt strangely content - an unfamiliar feeling after years of crime, being caught, and being imprisoned in cold, stark cells.
It was around 10:30 when a staff member, a cheery man who introduced himself as Mr. Howell, came and unlocked his door to collect him and take him to the treatment room. On the way, Mr. Howell explained that Louis would be given a rehab plan by his Treatment Lead, that was likely to entail at least one or two sessions a day, usually in the morning straight after breakfast.
After lunch, he would be taken to exercise - choices of activity would be explained by his Lead - and would then likely have free time until dinner. As he was on an individual plan, all of those things would be completed with staff members only. As they arrived at the thick, sturdy door of what Louis assumed was the treatment room, Mr. Howell turned and gave him a wink.
“So best make friends with me and the other attendants,” he said, grinning at Louis. “Because you’re gonna be spending a lot of time with us.”
Louis huffed and scowled at him. “Doubt it,” he said as rudely as he could. “You’re probably all boring.”
Mr. Howell rolled his eyes and looked like he was about to scold Louis before he narrowed his eyes and paused.
“You need to be careful with that mouth of yours, young man,” he said, smiling slightly but in an ominous tone. “Or it's going to get you into real trouble.”
Before Louis could sass back, Mr. Howell pushed the door open and ushered him through, guiding him to stand in front of a plush desk while announcing their presence. “Louis Tomlinson for his treatment plan meeting, sir,” he said into what looked like an empty room, and then swiftly and quietly left.
Louis stood, confused, for a few seconds before he heard movement to his left, and none other than Dr. Styles appeared from a side room, wiping his hands on a small towel. Louis’ heart stuttered at the sight of him.
He looked even hotter today, in fitted charcoal grey suit trousers and a tight cream shirt that hugged his muscular torso, so that Louis could see exactly how ripped the tall, broad man was. Louis’ mouth was dry.
Dr. Styles sat down in a large, impressive chair across the desk from him, and Louis automatically settled into the empty chair opposite.
“Did I tell you to sit, Louis?”
Louis’ body tensed. Dr. Styles' voice was so stern, and his tone sent a chill down Louis’ body. Almost immediately, though, he shook himself out of the momentary feeling of intimidation. He was Louis Tomlinson - uncooperative, unruly Louis Tomlinson, who was not about to be tamed by some jumped up pseudo-Doctor, even if that Doctor was sex on legs.
“Didn’t know I needed permission to breathe, sir,” he drawled, sarcastically emphasising the title. Dr. Styles hummed, steepling his fingers like a baddie out of a bad film, making Louis roll his eyes.
“I’ll let that slide,” he murmured, looking at Louis for an uncomfortably long moment. “You’ll learn.”
“Thought I was meeting my ‘Treatment Lead’?” Louis asked, miming the speech marks as he did so.
“I am your Treatment Lead,” the man said calmly.
“Thought you were the big, important boss?” Louis said, trying for cheeky but not quite achieving it, his thumping heart stopping him from getting into his usual feisty persona.
“I’m the boss, too,” Dr. Styles smirked.
“Why?” Louis blurted, and Dr. Styles cocked an eyebrow curiously. “Why are you, the boss, leading my treatment?” he expanded, and the doctor shrugged nonchalantly.
“Because you’re a special case, Louis. I have seen your file, and someone with your background and criminality needs some very specific, uh, support in your correctional journey.”
Louis felt suspicious but a little lost for words, and he startled slightly as Dr. Styles suddenly stood, making his way around the desk to stand in front of the boy.
“Up,” he said, and before Louis could register his own actions, he stood, facing Dr. Styles and clenching his jaw in irritation at his own obedience.
“Good boy, better,” Dr. Styles said quietly, a smile creeping onto his face. Before Louis could think of anything cheeky to say, Dr. Styles reached for his shoulders and turned him to face an examination table in the corner of the room. Louis was flustered and nervous, and let himself be guided over to it, feeling flushed and hot at the hand at the base of his spine.
“Strip,” Dr. Styles said next, and Louis turned in surprise, an incredulous look on his face.
“I’ve already been searched, Dr. Styles,” he said, irritation in his tone, but the doctor just laughed and shook his head.
“I’m not going to search you, Louis,” he said, amused enough that dimples popped in his cheeks, sending another wave of heat through Louis as the stunning man in front of him suddenly became even more attractive.
“I need to do some tests before I confirm your treatment plan.” Louis frowned, his expression dubious, as Dr. Styles continued. “I’ve decided your programme will be largely physical in nature, so I need to make sure the procedures will suit your body type and that we don’t do anything that may cause you injury.”
As unusual as this sounded, Louis couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved that this “plan” that the doctor kept referring to wouldn't include endless therapy sessions or lessons about the perils of a life of crime.
Physical he could do. Louis was fit; he enjoyed football and jogging and went to the gym regularly. He was slim and small rather than muscular, but had excellent stamina, probably borne of running from the police on such a regular basis.
So he pushed his doubts down in his mind, deciding that the sooner he complied with Dr. Styles’ request, the sooner he could get on with whatever sessions the man had in store for him today, then hopefully get some lunch.
He slowly, slightly hesitantly, took off his clothes as Dr. Styles watched impassively, his green eyes seeming to trace every inch of Louis’ skin as it was revealed.
Although the room was warm, Louis shivered slightly under the man’s gaze as he finally removed his boxers and stood naked in front of him. He watched as Dr. Styles' jaw clenched and wondered what the man was thinking, and when he stalked forward, Louis felt suddenly hotter with the proximity, willing his cock to stay soft and not reveal how the man affected him.
Dr. Styles didn’t speak as he carried out what Louis presumed were standard tests - blood pressure, heart rate, he checked his reflexes and looked into his eyes and ears with a little torch. He took some blood and packaged samples up into small tubes, spending a few minutes writing up notes and marking the tubes before coming back to stand next to Louis, who was now sitting on the examination bed with his legs dangling over the side.
Louis had been unsure as to why he had to be naked for the tests that had been carried out so far, but the thought was quickly forgotten when Dr. Styles asked, “Are you a virgin, Louis?” in a matter of fact tone.
“What? Why?” he stuttered, taken aback by the question. Dr. Styles rolled his eyes impatiently.
“Some of your treatments will involve penetration,” he said calmly, ignoring the shocked look on Louis’ face and continuing as if he had said nothing at all controversial. “I know you have stated your sexuality as homosexual in your file, but I need to know whether you’ve ever had anything inserted into your anus.”
Louis sat, slack-mouthed for a few moments, too stunned to speak, and in his moment of confusion, Dr. Styles pushed him back onto the bed, unceremoniously lifting his legs and swivelling him around on his bum, then quickly angling his legs up, forcing his back flush onto the bed. In smooth movements, Dr. Styles produced leg supports from the side of the bed, and before Louis knew it, his ankles were secured in them by tight cuffs attached to the stirrup cups.
“What are you doing?” Louis managed croakily, finally finding his voice. The doctor smiled, and the sharp edge to it made Louis’ breath hitch and his cock, which was already embarrassingly on its way to erect, harden noticeably.
“Answer the question, Louis,” the doctor said calmly as he pulled latex gloves onto his hands and produced a bottle from a tray at the side of the bed. Louis watched in fascinated horror as he spread lube over his fingers. He swallowed thickly as he realised the doctor was lubing up all of his fingers, not just one.
“I haven’t been fucked, if that’s what you mean,” Louis managed, panicking and answering despite his confusion about what was happening.
“Anyone fingered you or fucked you with toys?” the man asked bluntly, and Louis noticed the change in language from formal, medical terms to slang. Louis had no idea what was happening, but his body responded, his cock twitching at the question and his breath quickening.
“I’ve fingered myself, but n- no one else has fucked me with anything,” he admitted, feeling small and vulnerable on the bed, trussed up in stirrups with his legs apart and up, exposing himself to the gorgeous, intimidating doctor between his legs.
“Good, good boy,” Dr. Styles breathed, and Louis watched helplessly as the slick fingers on his gloved hand disappeared out of his eyeline. Nothing happened for a beat or two, and Louis’ whole body tensed in anticipation of where those fingers were going to end up.
“I’m going to examine you internally now, Louis,” Dr. Styles said mildly. “And then I’m going to test some of your limits so that I know how quickly we can get to certain levels of treatment.”
Still expecting to feel fingers against his hole, Louis blanched as a loud crackle broke through his panicked haze. The doctor had pressed a button on the wall with his dry hand and was talking into the box next to it.
“Can you come in and assist, please, Mr. Howell?” he said, and within seconds the door opened, and the attendant who’d accompanied him to the room entered. “Take notes for me, please, attendant, and if you can grab the stopwatch and the probe for me, that would be helpful.”
The man nodded and gathered various items, coming to stand next to the doctor, looking curiously at Louis’ in his prone position, eyes roaming over his hard cock and exposed hole.
Dr. Styles hummed as Louis squirmed under their gazes, rubbing his dry gloved hand up and down the back of Louis’ thigh as if soothing him. The latex of his gloves caught slightly on Louis’ soft leg hair, and the doctor grunted slightly, making an irritated face.
“Howell, add a weekly full body wax to Louis’ programme, please,” he said, and the orderly nodded, adding a note to the file he held.
Louis whined, horribly embarrassed and now terrified and confused, and tried to bring his knees together to hide himself.
Dr. Styles tutted. “Adjust the stirrups wider, please,” he said calmly. “We don’t want him to be able to close his legs while I run my tests.”
Louis was panting and whimpering now, and as his legs were spread wider by the attendant, his body finally seemed to come out of its shocked stasis, and he tried to sit up, reaching up to his ankles to try and undo the restraints. Dr. Styles rolled his eyes and nodded to the attendant.
“Restraints, please,” he muttered, and Louis was pushed back down on the bed by the strong man and held there with one forearm across his chest as Howell reached down and pulled long straps out from underneath the bed. He was quickly restrained, arms trapped at his sides by a wide leather strap that was buckled over his ribs.
“What the fuck is this?” he panted, scared but frustratingly turned on by the rough treatment.
“This’ll be much easier if you calm down and stop fighting,” the cheery attendant said, smiling down at him as he fastened cuffs to his wrists, attaching them to the sides of the bed so that even the limited movement he had after being strapped down was prevented.
“Gag?” the attendant asked Dr. Styles, who was lubing a long, metal object that made Louis shiver to look at.
“No, I’d like to hear his thoughts as the tests progress,” the doctor said, and without warning, Louis felt a long, thick finger press inside his hole, to the knuckle.
Louis keened, writhing against the restraints. “You can’t do this!” he shouted, but the men ignored him, and he felt the finger slowly start pumping in and out of him. He whimpered, overwhelmed, and so turned on, but petrified about where all this was leading.
What sort of place was this? They couldn’t do this to him, surely? It must be illegal.
Thoughts sped through his brain, but just as he felt his body adjust, another finger was pushed in, and before he could process it, the fingers were scissoring apart, spreading him open. He groaned out words, pleading with them to stop, to let him go, asking why they were doing this.
The two men continued talking calmly to each other, the attendant making notes after each exchange. For some reason, the fact that they were talking about him, like his whimpering and pleas were nothing to them, almost as if he wasn’t there, was making his cock painfully hard, and he could feel an orgasm building as heat coursed through his body.
“I think we may need a ring, Howell,'' the doctor said, and the other man nodded, grabbing something off the tray of implements to his side and swiftly pulling the silicon ring down over Louis’ hard aching cock. He moaned as the cock ring settled at the base and jolted as he felt another, smaller ring being pulled around his balls. The grip was vice like, and Louis couldn’t help moaning at the feeling.
What followed was a long period of the most excruciating arousal and denial that Louis had ever experienced. After the doctor had pumped three fingers into him relentlessly for what felt like an eternity, calmly discussing Louis’ reactions with the note-taking attendant, he abruptly removed them and replaced them with the thick metal probe he’d been lubing earlier. It wasn’t as wide as the doctor's fingers but was much longer, and the breath was pushed out of Louis as Dr. Styles pushed it into him, so deep he could feel it in his tummy.
“Good, good,” the doctor murmured, turning his face to Howell but keeping his eyes on Louis’ pulsing hole. “The subject can take the full length of the probe without apparent discomfort,” he said, and the attendant nodded, murmuring, “Eight inches taken painlessly,” as he wrote on his notes.
“Stopwatch now, please, Howell,” Dr. Styles said, and the attendant grabbed the watch and stood, poised for further instruction.
Louis was so overwhelmed that he’d gone quiet, lost in the painful arousal and fear, pliant and at the mercy of his body's reactions. Dr. Styles moved to loom over him, smiling down at him with a gentle expression.
“Now, Louis, we have one more test to carry out, and then we can go through your programme while you recover,” he said, and Louis could only whine again, unable to order his thoughts enough to speak through the haze that seemed to have descended on his overwhelmed brain.
“I’m going to remove the cock ring now, Louis,” he said sternly, and the tone made Louis’ mind clear enough to listen and take in his words. “I want you to hold your orgasm back for as long as you can, OK? We will time how long you can manage it. If you can hold off for five minutes…” The doctor’s smile changed from gentle to sinister. “There’ll be a nice reward afterwards. Can you see if you can do that for me, Louis?”
A reward.
Louis’ brain wasn’t working properly, but he understood enough. He wanted a reward, a break, something gentle and calm to bring him back down to earth and soothe his pounding heart. “Yes, sir,” he managed to whisper, and Dr. Styles beamed at him, a proud smile popping the dimples in his cheeks and making Louis flush with involuntary pleasure at pleasing him.
Louis was aching and full, and when the attendant pulled the cock ring off him and the probe inside him started to vibrate, he suddenly wasn’t sure he was capable of holding out for five whole minutes. He keened as the vibrations increased, and his cock blurted pre-come over his tummy as he writhed and arched against the restraints on his body and wrists.
The only reason Louis managed the five excruciating minutes was because Dr. Styles had stopped touching him. He knew with complete certainty that if the doctor’s hands were to so much as brush his raw, painful cock, he would come instantly. As it was, as soon as the attendant confirmed the five minutes were up, Louis’ body convulsed painfully as he sank into the intense pleasure, stripes of come spurting up his chest and making a mess of his tummy and the straps as he moaned and cried out.
The waves of pleasure continued into over-sensitivity, and Louis found himself begging the doctor to stop the vibrations inside him. After an uncomfortably long moment, the doctor relented, and the vibrator stilled. Louis panted, trying to get his breath back, and when the probe was pulled out of him, he whined high in his throat, relieved and upset in equal measure at the emptiness he felt inside him.
His body felt drained, abused, but sated, and as his eyes drooped with exhaustion, he saw the satisfied look on Dr. Styles’ face as he nodded to the attendant.
“He’s perfect, attendant Howell,” Louis heard as his awareness faded. “Exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Louis started to come-to, his attention was drawn to his groin, which felt constricted. As the haze started to clear, he jolted, realising that his cock was being manhandled. He tried to speak but only managed a low groan, eyelids fluttering as he tried to clear his daze.
“Ah, you’re back with us?” a low voice soothed. “Such a good boy for me, Louis. You did so well.”
Louis blinked and shook his head, and slowly became aware that he was still restrained across his torso and arms, but his legs were now free of the stirrups. As the memory of the last hour or so returned, his eyes flew open in alarm.
“What the fuck-” he started before a hand came to his mouth, big palm covering it firmly, so that the next words were no more than muffled noises.
“Shh now, Louis,” Dr. Styles said calmly as he stood over him, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other rubbing small circles on the little pudge of Louis’ tummy. “Your examination and tests have gone exceptionally well, and you’ll be pleased to hear that I have a full programme worked out for you and that I will be personally overseeing all of your treatments. Nothing but the best for inmate 001.” He smiled, and Louis groaned, panic and confusion still clouding his mind.
“Now, I know you have questions,” the doctor continued, “and if you can promise to be good and not make a fuss, I’ll let you ask anything you’d like. How does that sound, Louis?”
Louis nodded furiously, instantly realising that his only chance of making any sense of what was happening to him and perhaps finding a way out of this nightmare was to cooperate. Maybe he could talk his way out of this if he could just work out exactly what he was dealing with.
“Good boy,” Dr. Styles murmured with a pleased smile, and Louis tried to ignore the shiver that went through him at the man’s reaction. The hand was removed from his mouth, and for a moment he wasn’t sure where to start; there were so many questions running through his mind.
“Inmate 001?” is what came out, and he wasn’t entirely sure why his brain had focused on that, but he went with it. Dr. Styles chuckled delightedly.
“Yes Louis! You’re the first and only subject I’ve found that meets all of my personal research criteria. So you’re my ‘patient number one’. Once we’ve finished here, Howell will make sure your number is tattooed nice and clearly, so that everyone knows you’re mine.” Dr. Styles paused, smirking ruefully. “My patient, I mean,” he said, chuckling to himself again.
Louis had plenty of tattoos, so the act didn’t bother him, but the thought of having a permanent mark of this experience made his skin crawl. He shivered but locked the feeling away as there were more pressing questions he needed to ask.
“You assaulted me,” he croaked, watching as the doctor simply shrugged and shook his head fondly.
“It wasn’t assault, Louis. It was an examination to confirm and prepare for your treatment plan. All of our methods are sanctioned by the authorities.”
What? How could this fucked up shit be sanctioned by the authorities?
“Don’t understand,” Louis grated, and Dr. Styles lifted a hand to Louis’ neck, stroking slightly and then just resting it there, not firmly enough to restrict breathing, but the pressure heavy enough to make Louis’ pulse jump.
“Petrovich is an experimental programme of my devising, which the government has commissioned me to pilot on a number of subjects in the hope that, if successful, it can be rolled out across the country and across the correctional system as an alternative to traditional detention approaches.”
The spiel sounded practiced, like the doctor had had to explain this one too many times and was bored by the whole thing.
“The programme has a 100% success rate so far, so it's recently been expanded, and you are part of our increased intake. We’ve been working for nearly two years now, and not once in all that time has a subject joined us that is so perfect for my particular requirements.”
Louis shuddered at the implication of the words but pressed on, unsure how much longer he’d be given to ask questions.
“I’ll tell everyone what you did to me,” he said quietly, hoping to sound threatening but aware that his voice was weak. “There’s no way this shit is legal.”
“Language Louis,” Dr. Styles scolded, and Louis yelped as a firm slap landed on his inner thigh. “You will not swear in my presence. And as for telling anyone, feel free to tell whoever you like. You’ll find your accusations won’t go very far.”
Dr. Styles leaned down, his face close, green eyes gazing into Louis’. “Things will be so much better for you, sweet thing, if you just stop fighting me, you know? I can make your life very pleasant or very unpleasant. The choice is yours.” He leant down further and placed a gentle kiss on Louis’ forehead, his plush, soft lips making Louis’ skin tingle.
“Fuck you,” Louis hissed, and Dr. Styles sighed, shaking his head and abruptly standing, moving to the bottom of the bed and roughly pulling Louis’ legs apart. Louis fought to close them, but the doctor stood between them, his body blocking the movement.
Calmly, Dr. Styles pressed a button on the side of the bed, and the top section slowly raised, sitting Louis up enough that he could see his own groin while still restrained. His eyes flicked down and instantly widened, a high pitched whimper leaving his throat unbidden.
He was wearing a harness of some sort that was locked around his pelvis, made of leather and chrome. His cock was encased in a chrome cage, and as he took in the sight, he realised that the strange feeling of constriction he was feeling was because the contraption was locked around his waist, the leather strap going between his legs and pressing on his perineum and between his arse cheeks.
Panic gripped him, and he felt tears pooling in his eyes as Dr. Styles calmly surveyed him from between his legs. Determined not to show weakness, he shook his head to clear them, gritting his teeth and jutting his chin out defiantly. The doctor just chuckled.
“Such a feisty boy,” he murmured. “Gonna fight me all the way, huh?”
Louis didn’t answer, still trying to calm his heart and even out his breathing, his brain feverishly working to try and find a way out of whatever fucked up thing this was. The doctor laid a cool hand on his caged cock, and Louis flinched at the pressure.
“Last chance, darling,” the man drawled. “Submit to me now, and I’ll go easy on you.” Louis could only shake his head, furious and afraid and panicked, and the doctor shrugged, a gleeful glint in his eye.
“As you wish. This belt is a chastity device, Louis, and I have the only key. Your lovely cock is caged, so you won’t be able to get hard, and you certainly won’t be able to come.” He picked up something off a tray that Louis hadn’t noticed before. “Which may not sound too challenging, but once I complete the set up, I’m afraid it certainly will be. You’re going to need to come very badly, Louis.”
Louis felt a cold slick pressure against his hole, and he gasped as something metal and bulbous was pressed into him, slowly spreading his rim wide before popping inside and settling, pressing against his walls in the most deliciously arousing way.
He groaned and writhed, trying to move away from Dr. Styles hands which were fastening things between his legs that he couldn’t see. Seemingly satisfied, the doctor moved to Louis’ side again and held up a small remote control. Before Louis could think, he pressed a button on it, and the plug inside Louis leapt to life, vibrating harshly against his walls and his prostate in short, rhythmic bursts.
Louis arched against the restraints, his head back, and his eyes shut tight as he keened at the intense sensation of being so stimulated without being able to get hard. He could feel his cock trying to fatten, pressing against the cage uselessly.
Suddenly, the vibrations stopped, and Harry smiled down at him. “You’ll wear this until you’re ready to cooperate with me without complaint, Louis,” the man said matter-of-factly, still smiling as if they were discussing something completely ordinary. “Once you tell me you are ready, I’ll remove the cage and let you come, and if you continue to be good for me for 48 hours after that, we can implement a less intense approach.”
“Now,” he said briskly, clapping his hands and standing. “You have a choice. You can get dressed and go and have lunch in the hall, and then have the afternoon to yourself if you’d like. Of course I will have the remote and will be watching you through the cameras we have all over the facility.”
He pointed to a camera high on the wall, and Louis knew they would be everywhere.
“Or you can stay here, and I’ll arrange for food to be brought to you in case you don’t want anyone to see you while you’re, uh, distracted by the vibrations.”
Louis had run out of ideas of how to escape this torture, but the one thing he was desperate for was time and space away from Dr. Styles, even if that meant a torturous meal in the hall.
“The first option,” he muttered, refusing to make eye contact with the doctor and trying hard to maintain his last semblance of dignity and control.
“Excellent!” Dr. Styles said cheerfully and immediately started undoing the restraints around Louis’ body. As soon as his arms were free, Louis grabbed at the belt around his waist, pulling at it, yanking and tugging it in every direction, but achieved nothing except jarring discomfort as the cage dug into him and increased pressure on his prostate as the plug moved inside him.
He groaned, and Dr. Styles laughed, shaking his head as he handed Louis his clothes and encouraged him to get dressed. Louis’ shoulders slumped in defeat, and he silently dressed himself, feeling completely exhausted and defeated.
Once he was dressed, Dr. Styles called Howell back into the room and told him to escort Louis to lunch and, once he’d eaten, to take him to his room and station an attendant outside at all times. As Howell opened the door for him, Dr. Styles called out for Louis.
“Remember Louis,” he said, a soft smile on his beautiful face. “Just tell the attendant when you’re ready to fully agree to your programme, and they will bring you to me, whatever the hour. It's all up to you, little dove.”
Louis scowled at him, and Dr. Styles grinned wickedly, winking at him as the attendant ushered him out of the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day had been literal torture, and the night was even worse.
Lunch had been reasonably bearable; it seemed Dr. Styles kept the vibrations to a minimum to allow Louis to eat, with only three intense bursts to navigate, starting each time he had to rise from his seat to collect items or hand his tray back.
The sense of security had been short lived, and Louis spent an agonising afternoon in his room, writhing on his bed in painful arousal while he tried, in vain, to remove any part of the chastity belt locked around him.
Dinner had been brought to his room, and the plug inside Louis stayed largely switched off, giving him a welcome break from the relentless torture. After he’d eaten, he’d tried to sleep, but it was now 4 a.m., and he’d endured hours of intermittent vibrations that had left him exhausted and aching, unable to get any relief, and sobbing every time the randomly timed pulsing started again.
Finally, he could take no more - fatigue and desperation and a soul-crushing acceptance that there was no way out of this had won over in his brain. He dragged himself from his bed and banged on his bedroom door, sobbing in relief and falling into the arms of the big attendant who’d been stationed outside, begging him to take him to Dr. Styles.
The attendant simply nodded and guided him down the corridor, and when Louis stumbled and fell to the floor in exhaustion, nearly tumbling down the stairs in the process, the man picked him up as if he weighed nothing and carried him princess style the rest of the way.
Even through the haze of pain and anxiety that fogged Louis’ mind, he was surprised to be taken to the same office he’d been in before, expecting that Dr. Styles would be in bed asleep. When the doctor answered the door, though, his hair was ruffled and he was bare-chested, wearing sleep shorts, and looking more attractive than any human being Louis had ever seen.
And it wasn’t just Louis’ desperation talking; the man looked like a god.
The smile that broke out on the doctor’s face when he laid eyes on Louis in the attendants arms was full of smug glee, but Louis was past caring, unable to focus on anything other than ending his agony.
The attendant laid him on the examination bed he’d been strapped to before, and he writhed, the vibrations unrelenting, as Dr. Styles murmured to the attendant and showed him out, closing the door behind him.
“Are you ready to fully accept your rehabilitation programme, Louis?” Dr. Styles said calmly, smiling over at Louis from just inside the door. Louis panted and whined, stuttering out pleases and slurring his words.
Dr. Styles stalked over to him, placing his large hand carefully on Louis’ bare chest and rubbing soothing circles. He produced the remote and held it up, and Louis held his breath, expecting the vibrations to stop. But when the doctor pressed a button, the intensity increased, creating a constant, painful buzz against his prostate. Louis keened, his back arching off the bed and tears streaming down his face.
“Clear words, please, Louis,” the man grinned at him, his pupils black as he watched the boy pant and convulse.
“I-I accept,” Louis managed through gritted teeth, now solely focused on an end to the torture. “I accept the programme. Please, Dr. Styles.” He sobbed as the doctor watched him. “Please.”
Suddenly the plug stilled, and Louis’ body slumped, relief washing through him and his mind clearing enough to tune into what the doctor was saying.
“...daily sessions with me that will commence at nine a.m. after breakfast. You will be given lunch here, and we will continue with the therapy in the afternoon. Your exercise will be combined into our sessions. You will take your instructions from me, and me alone.”
Louis’ heart had calmed somewhat, and when his breathing evened out enough to speak, he asked the question he feared the answer to.
“What’ll happen in the sessions?” A pit of dread spread through his stomach. Dr. Styles smiled wickedly.
“Oh princess,” he breathed, leaning so close that his lips brushed the shell of Louis’ ear, making him shiver. “I am going to have so much fun with you.”
The doctor’s hand ran down his body, and Louis whimpered and writhed, the pain in his tummy deepening as he pressed and pinched his soft skin. Dread was replaced with intense need, and Louis begged to be released from the cage, to come. He pleaded as the doctor hummed and continued to touch every inch of him.
Louis was sobbing again by the time the doctor relented, producing a set of small keys, and unlocked the cage with one of them. Louis cock instantly filled, becoming rock hard in seconds, and the overwhelming feeling made his head spin. Louis grabbed it, wrapping his hand around it and pumping hard, before a stinging slap landed across his fist, hitting his cock and making him cry out in pain.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Dr. Styles said as he gripped Louis’ hand and wrenched it away. “You will not touch your cock or hole while you are under my supervision, Louis. I control your body now, and only I will give you release.”
Louis could only whine as the doctor lifted the remote again, and the vibrations of the plug inside him started at full force. His body spasmed painfully, and as the doctor took his cock in his hand and pumped it firmly, he came, crying out at the intensity of the orgasm that ripped through him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Louis was comfortable and warm when he woke, and it took a minute or so before he became aware of his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, which definitely wasn’t the plain, sparse room he’d been assigned. This one was expensively decorated; the duvet and sheets were plush and delicious against his skin.
He was naked in the wide, soft bed, but as he stretched he realised the chastity belt was still tight around his pelvis, and he groaned slightly, lifting the covers to look down at himself.
The cage was back around his cock and balls, but as he clenched his sore hole, he realised the plug had been removed, and a wave of relief made him shudder. It was when he pulled the covers off himself and went to swing his legs over the side of the bed that he realised his ankles were attached to the footboard by cuffs with long chains.
He whined loudly, frustrated, flopping back onto the bed on his back in irritated defeat.
“Ah, you’re awake!” Dr. Styles' voice floated through from beyond the open door of the bedroom, and a moment later the man appeared, looking beautiful in a shirt open to mid chest and jeans.
The doctor sat on the bed and laid a large hand on Louis’ waist. Louis flinched back, trying to wriggle away, but the man’s grip tightened and his fingers dug into Louis' skin. Louis wanted to fight, to push the man away from him, to tell him to fuck off, but after the last couple of days, he simply didn’t have the energy.
Louis was scared and overwhelmed, and he was starting to accept that Dr. Styles could indeed make his life very unpleasant if Louis didn’t submit to him. Despite a corner of his brain still screaming at him not to, Louis was close to doing exactly that.
“I know you’re scared, Louis,” Dr. Styles said calmly, as if reading his mind. “But if you choose to, you could enjoy your rehab, you know. Just do as I say and everything will work out just perfectly.”
Louis didn’t respond, but he stopped wriggling and slumped his body, looking up at the doctor as his grip relaxed, and he started rubbing small circles on Louis’ tummy with his thumb. Feeling a little braver, Louis cleared his throat.
“Do I have to wear this thing forever?” he asked forlornly, hoping his doe eyed look and slight pout would result in leniency. Dr. Styles smiled happily and brought his other hand to stroke over the leather and chrome straps of the belt at his hip.
“Not forever, little dove. If, over the next 48 hours, you prove to me that you have genuinely committed to the programme, I will allow periods without the belt, as long as the ground rules are followed.”
It wasn’t what he’d hoped for - Louis was hoping he’d never have to wear this torture device again - but periods without it sounded incredibly appealing at this point, so he didn’t push it any further.
It was late morning, and Dr. Styles had let Louis sleep for as long as he wanted, his body needing to recover from the relentless assaults he’d been subjected to over the previous day.
Breakfast was laid out on the table in the lounge/kitchen area of the apartment they appeared to be in, and Louis was dressed in the joggers and tight t-shirt that the doctor had laid out for him while he showered, awkwardly cleaning himself around the damn chastity belt. He hadn’t been given underwear, a fact that hadn’t escaped his notice and that only served to increase the dread he felt in his bones.
As they ate, they went through his programme and the rules he would have to follow. Dr. Styles refused to give details of what would happen in the rehab sessions, only telling Louis that he would be expected to do exactly as ordered and that he would be taught various skills over time.
There were numerous rules to follow, with six key ones that Dr. Styles wrote out on a small card, which he insisted Louis carry with him at all times:
- Louis must eat all provided meals, drink plenty of fluids, and complete all exercise as instructed by Dr. Styles or his assigned attendants.
- When addressing the doctor, Louis must use “Sir”, “Dr. Styles” or “Master.” On occasion, Dr. Styles may give permission to use his first name, Harry.
- When given an order by Dr. Styles, Louis must make every effort to follow it, regardless of the situation or how difficult or unpleasant it may be.
- Louis must tell the truth at all times, and if any rule is broken, Louis must inform Dr. Styles immediately, so that punishment can be carried out.
- Louis must never touch his genitals other than to clean them, and must never masturbate or ejaculate without Dr. Styles’ express permission.
- Louis’ identifying mark should be visible at all times.
As the rules had been explained to him, Louis’ stomach had dropped further and further, the depths of obedience expected from him becoming clearer as the doctor spoke. He tried to push back on some of the more outrageous demands, but was harshly reminded that should he continue to disobey, the plug could be reinserted and he could be sent back to his room to suffer again at any moment.
The thought of it made him feel sick, so he stopped arguing, opting for acquiescence, still hoping against hope that he could find a way out of this. If he was really good, if he did everything the doctor asked of him, maybe his time at the facility would be shortened and he could get out and get back to normal life.
He was curious about the sixth key rule though, and when the doctor offered him the chance to speak, he asked about it.
“Ah yes, the tattoo,” the doctor smiled, eyes glinting. “I know you’re going to behave beautifully for me over the next two days, and then we will get that done for you, darling, not to worry.”
Louis must have looked dissatisfied with that as an answer, because the doctor chuckled at him a little. “It's just your inmate number and some other identifying letters, that’s all, Louis. All inmates have one so that staff can easily identify you.”
“Why does it have to be a tattoo?” Louis asked, braving the doctor’s slight irritation at the question. “It's so permanent.”
“It's supposed to be Louis, that’s the point. This programme isn’t a temporary thing for our subjects, it's for life. The benefits and support continue when inmates are released back into society. The mark allows for the authorities to identify that someone is part of the programme and act accordingly should the need arise.”
Louis went to ask more, but a raised hand and a stern look silenced him. “Enough questions now, dove,” the doctor said firmly. “I need to make a call, and it's time for your first rehab session. Follow me.”
He was led into the office he’d been in the day before and realised that Dr. Styles’ rooms were all joined and that this must be where the man permanently lived. He was guided across the room, where the doctor sat in his plush office chair and ordered him to kneel between his legs under the desk.
As he settled on his knees, Louis’ eyes widened as the doctor undid his flies, pulling his large, semi hard cock out from his underwear. Louis looked up at the doctor in trepidation, and the man grinned down at him.
“I need to make a very important call, Louis,” he said, his smile becoming more and more sharklike. “And while I do so, I want you to warm my cock in your mouth. You will not suck or lick, you will simply keep it warm for me. Do you understand, dove?”
Louis nodded and murmured “Yes, sir.” He’d given plenty of blowjobs before, so he wasn't afraid of a cock in his mouth, and despite his anxiety, he had to admit that the doctor’s cock was a beauty. He was almost relieved - it seemed his first session would be relatively easy.
“Good boy,” the doctor said, and took Louis’ bottom jaw in his hand, pulling it down so that his mouth gaped. He slid the other hand to the back of Louis’ head, gripping his hair firmly and pulling him forward as he slowly fed his cock into Louis' waiting heat.
Louis gagged a little as the large, smooth cock slid into his mouth and hit the back of his throat, but he focused on relaxing, knowing that the doctor would likely get harder and bigger. Once Louis’ nose touched the man’s trimmed pubic hair, he settled, closing his eyes and letting his mind drift, making the best of the situation he found himself in.
Dr. Styles hummed above him, letting out a long breath, before Louis vaguely heard him pick up his phone. He let the conversation wash over him at first, but when he heard his name, he jolted slightly, his eyes opening and peering up at the doctor.
Dr. Styles looked down at him, making eye contact and smiling in a way that made Louis want to run and hide.
“Louis is an unusual case, you’re right,” he drawled into the phone, eyes glued to Louis’. “So much so that I’ve taken him under my wing, so to speak, designed his programme myself, and I’ll be his Treatment Lead.”
Louis watched as Dr. Styles nodded at something the person on the call said and chuckled slightly.
“You’re right, of course, Director General, but I have the time now that the facility is running so smoothly, and I always said I would carry out specific research should the right inmate present themselves. And Louis Tomlinson is exactly right for my purposes.”
Louis couldn’t help the tremor that ran down his spine at the ominous words, and the doctor reached out, cupping the back of Louis’ head and entwining his fingers into his soft hair. Once he had a firm grip, he thrust forward a little, his now fully hard cock hitting the back of Louis' throat and making him gag.
Dr. Styles was thick and long, and Louis’ eyes watered as the man held him there, unable to breathe, eyes wide and scared.
“Yes, he’s taking it very well. Deep into his therapy already,” the doctor said as he held Louis’ head for a few seconds longer before releasing him enough to allow him to breathe. He chuckled at the desperate look on Louis’ face.
“Well, there was some resistance at first, of course. There always is with our more challenging subjects, but we pushed past it, and Louis is really opening up to me now.”
He grinned, his dimples popping as he thrust forward again, and Louis could only splutter and drool, tears running down his face from the lack of oxygen and the intrusion in his throat. He looked pleadingly up at the doctor, who thrust again sharply, pushing himself further down and making Louis’ throat bulge.
“No, no, not yet, but we’ve only just started, Director,” Dr. Styles continued smugly as Louis’ vision wavered and he saw spots in front of his eyes, his lungs burning with the need to breathe. The grip on his head loosened enough for him to pull back an inch, enough to breathe, finally, through his nose, the sensation making his head spin.
Dr. Styles studied him as his eyes drooped, dizzy, and confused. “I'm starting to see Louis display the sort of behaviours I've been hoping for,” he said into the phone. “But I'm going to need to really break down his walls to get him where he needs to be. We still have a long way to go yet, sir.”
Louis finally slumped, the doctor's huge cock still preventing the deep breaths his body craved but allowing enough oxygen to stay hazily awake. Dr. Styles finished the call, and Louis was too dazed to hear anything else over the thrumming in his ears, the anguish swirling in his mind, and the aching in his lungs.
He felt the doctor lean down towards him, pulling him back by his hair so that the man’s cock slid out of his mouth. Louis’ mouth was slack as he gasped for breath, finally able to gulp in air.
“Steady, little dove,” the doctor said, low and quiet in Louis’ ear. “You’ve done so well, Louis. All that’s left now is for you to swallow my come, then you can rest until the next session, OK?”
Louis tried to speak, to say he needed a break, to plead for a pause, but all he could manage was slurred mumbles, shaking his head and bringing his hands up to the doctors knees, gripping them as he laid his head down on them for a moment.
“Now, now, none of that, Louis,” Dr. Styles said sternly. “Open up for me; come on.”
Louis felt firm hands on his head, lifting it, and when fingers dug into his jaw and pulled it open, he moaned, sobbing a little as the doctor’s cock slid back into his mouth. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes of having his throat cruelly fucked for the doctor to orgasm, his cock so far down Louis’ throat that even swallowing became difficult, the come spurting down his open throat and filling his nasal passage a little as it went.
When he was finally released, he still couldn’t breathe for a few panicked moments, and he coughed and drooled to clear his airways. Dr. Styles patted and stroked his back as he spluttered his way through it, and when he was eventually able to breathe freely, the doctor scooped him up easily, carrying him over to the sofa in the corner of the room and producing a soft blanket.
He settled Louis down, tucking the blanket around him and grabbing water from a small fridge near his desk, making Louis drink half the bottle before he was satisfied.
“You need to rest, dove,” he cooed, stroking Louis’ face, and if he’d been strong enough, Louis would have pushed him away, but he couldn’t. He was too tired, too overwhelmed. The soft treatment was welcome, despite everything, and Louis nuzzled into the doctor’s hand before he realised what he was doing.
He glanced up and saw Dr. Styles smiling fondly at him, his expression so different from the sinister one he’d seen while the man had been on the phone.
“Did so well for me, sweet thing,” he murmured, and he leaned forward and kissed Louis’ forehead, then his cheeks. Louis closed his eyes, fatigue taking over, and before he slipped into sleep, he felt plush, pillowy lips press two soft kisses, one on each eyelid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The neck. Of all the places they could tattoo the identifying mark, it had to be on the neck.
Louis had had plenty of tattoos, so it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered him, it was the fact that there was a permanent record of his pathetic defeat, one that he wouldn’t be able to fully hide even when he eventually returned to normal life.
But tattoos could be removed or covered, and he pushed down the echo of the doctor’s words - that the programme was for life - ignoring them as hard as he could. Hope of somehow escaping the hell he found himself in was his only solace, so he had to cling to it.
The last 48 hours had been exhausting and demeaning. Dr. Styles had made him wear a plug, although not a vibrating one, for pretty much the entire time, and had edged him mercilessly in their sessions, not allowing him to come until he had completed a challenge of some sort.
The challenges all involved degrading himself by performing disgusting acts, seemingly for Dr. Styles amusement. He’d been forced to fuck into a fleshlight after being edged for hours, and the doctor had filmed him coming several times before eventually relenting when his cock was spasming painfully dry.
The doctor had fucked his mouth, while one vibrator buzzed inside him and another was strapped to the outside of the cage, the arousal causing a frenzied desperation in Louis that encouraged him to give the best head he’d ever given, so desperate was he to be allowed release.
Exercise sessions had been completed in Dr. Styles apartment, in a small home gym he had there. The exercises were normal, but Louis was ordered to complete them naked while the doctor took photograph after photograph at the most intimate of angles.
The final indignity was a painful full body wax carried out by three attendants while Dr. Styles watched, ensuring each part of his body was smooth enough before taking close photographs of every part of him.
The most confusing thing, though, was in between the cruel sessions, when the doctor would not only be kind to Louis, but treat him like a treasure, soothing and providing for him with a fond smile, sometimes feeding him by hand when exhaustion took over.
He’d called it ‘aftercare’ when Louis had asked, and seemed intent on making Louis as comfortable as possible during those periods.
Louis hated how much he liked it; hated that, in some part of his addled mind, he had started to crave the pain and discomfort, because of the softness and attentiveness that followed.
The tattoo was completed quickly and efficiently, and as Louis stood in the bathroom afterwards, finally without the chastity device so that he could piss normally, he studied it in the mirror. Some random letters, and in the middle, the number that Dr. Styles had assigned to him - 001.
The tattoo was black and large, vertical up his pulse point, just to the side of his Adam's apple, and high enough on his neck that even a turtleneck wouldn’t conceal it. He groaned as he washed his hands, trudging out of the bathroom and staying quiet as the tattooist wrapped it for him.
Howell, the attendant who was with him pretty much whenever Dr. Styles wasn’t, took him back to the doctor’s apartment afterwards, informing him that the man was out at a meeting in London and wouldn’t be back until the morning.
Louis was given dinner, then restrained to the bed by his feet and left to sleep.
It had been a blissful sleep, and when he was woken at around 9am by the doctor gently shaking him, he was too cosy to willingly wake for a while, until Dr. Styles’ voice became stern, and he was forced to open his eyes or be punished.
The doctor looked as gorgeous as ever but tired, and Louis held a brief hope that the man might skip their first session to rest.
That hope was soon dashed when, just as they were finishing breakfast Dr. Styles seemed to suddenly register the patch on Louis’ neck over the new tattoo.
He reached out and gently removed the bandage, pulling it away so it was fully visible, and Louis watched as the doctor froze, his eyes zeroed in on the mark, pupils going blacker by the second.
“Jesus,” the man muttered under his breath, and then he growled something else that Louis couldn’t hear clearly but that sounded frighteningly like, “mine.”
Before he could argue, Louis was scooped into the doctor's arms and carried into the treatment room, which doubled as the doctor's office. He was stripped naked, without the dreaded chastity belt for once, then placed carefully onto the examination bed. He didn’t resist when the restraints were applied to his wrists and upper body, and his legs were lifted and secured into the high stirrups.
Louis tried with all of his willpower not to get hard, not to give Dr. Styles the satisfaction of his arousal, but the man was looking at him like he wanted to devour him, and the heady feeling of being immobile and helpless was too intense to keep himself in check.
The doctor was moving urgently, and as Louis watched him, he noticed the large bulge in the doctor’s trousers. He’d been hard before, of course, and had used Louis’ mouth and hands to get him off on numerous occasions, but he seemed different this time - more urgent, less controlled.
The tattoo seemed to have triggered something feral in him, and Louis’ heart rate spiked as he speculated on what the man was about to do to him.
Dr. Styles was going to fuck him for the first time; Louis just knew.
The doctor stood between Louis’ legs, high and wide apart, his body positioned so that his bum was just off the end of the table, giving the man full access to all of his most sensitive areas.
He watched as Dr. Styles' eyes drifted across every inch of him, and even though he wasn’t touching Louis yet, he could almost feel the gaze, a featherlight dusting across his prickling skin.
The doctor’s expression was dark and sinister, and his breathing was ragged as he took Louis’ cock in his hand and pumped it slowly, dragging his fist up and down and rubbing his thumb over the slit, using the blurting precome to smooth the glide.
When a low moan escaped Louis’ mouth and he raised his hips involuntarily, Dr. Styles tutted and shook his head.
“Stay still, Louis,” he growled, his voice lower than Louis had ever heard it. He reached beneath the bed and pulled up two more restraints, fastening them around Louis' hips so that even the small amount of movement he had left was gone.
He grabbed the lube and smothered Louis in it, copious amounts covering his cock, his balls, and his hole, making Louis hiss at the cold, wet feeling. The doctor then grabbed a large dildo from the drawer beside him and lubed that too, but when he turned back to Louis, he paused, his eyes flicking from Louis’ wet hole up to his neck, zeroing in on the tattoo.
An emotion surged in Louis, and he gritted his teeth when, after a few moments, he worked out what it was. He was disappointed. He wanted Dr. Styles’ cock inside him, not a dildo. He sobbed at the realisation of just how broken he was becoming, not even able to trust his own mind now.
He wanted this. He craved it.
After looking at him for a long moment, Dr. Styles seemed to make a decision, and after placing the lubed vibrator carefully on a tray next to him, he pulled out a cock ring, and Louis keened as he felt it pull down his hard cock. When the ring was pushed to the base, Dr. Styles pulled at it, making Louis whine, and he felt the second loop tight around his balls.
“This won’t stop you coming, my sweet thing,” the doctor said softly, stroking Louis’ already aching cock and making him whimper. “But it will help you last longer. You will only come when I say you can, understood?”
Louis whined again but nodded, knowing resistance was futile and that he would be punished if he disobeyed. “Yes, sir,” he croaked brokenly, and the doctor smiled down at him.
“Want you to call me Master, my good boy,” he murmured, eyes flashing with hunger and menace. “Was gonna open you up with a dildo, but I need to feel you at your tightest, just for me,” he said, and Louis sobbed a little at the thought of losing his virginity in this way, to this man.
“I want to hear you, dove. Want to hear you cry and beg and whine, just for me.”
And then Louis could feel the man’s large cock push at his rim, slowly but relentlessly, millimetre by millimetre, until Louis’ entrance gave way, and the whine that was building in his throat turned into a full cry of pain and overwhelm.
“Shit, you’re so tight, baby,” the doctor grated as he continued to slowly fill Louis’ hole, his virgin rim stretching uncomfortably and his ass feeling fuller and fuller by the second.
Dr. Styles had never inserted anything so large and long into Louis before, and the intrusion was shocking and painful, but so arousing that Louis couldn’t process the feelings.
The doctor thrust sharply then, the last few inches of him pushing inside Louis in one go, and he could feel the intrusion in his tummy. When the doctor started thrusting, deep and slow at first, Louis keened, the tears flowing down his face and his cries the only outlet for the intense sensations his body was experiencing, tied and helpless as he was.
It wasn’t long before the pain of it decreased, and as Dr. Styles fucked him as hard and deep as he could, angling himself so that he alternated between hammering Louis’ prostate and making his tummy bulge, Louis’ body started to really respond.
His cock was so hard it ached, and the arousal pooling in his belly started to spread in waves through his body. Each thrust of the doctor’s cock brought him closer to the edge, and a sudden panic gripped him when he realised he couldn’t hold back.
“Close, Master, please stop!” he cried out, and the doctor stopped the pounding, still deep inside Louis but no longer moving.
“Well done for telling me, dove,” he said, grinning as he pulled out, watching his cock slide so that just the tip was inside. His expression changed to one of curiosity, and when Louis felt him push back in, he whined, feeling an extra stretch of his tight hole.
The doctor had pushed a finger in alongside his cock and was watching with awed fascination as Louis’ body opened up around it. The man let out a long, shaky breath before seeming to lose control, thrusting hard and fast with his finger pressed in so that his cock rubbed against it, increasing the sensations.
The extra stretch was painful enough that Louis came back from the edge of orgasm, panting and whimpering every time the man filled him, his hole aching at the pressure. Dr. Styles was a man possessed, growling and fucking Louis with abandon, his eyes black with lust as he watched his cock sink into Louis’ body.
He pulled out suddenly and grinned maliciously as he picked up the dildo he’d lubed up earlier, coating it again generously as Louis panted, trying to catch his breath before the assault on his senses continued.
It was almost a relief when the dildo was pushed into him - Louis had felt horribly empty when the doctor abruptly pulled away and he hated himself for longing to be full again despite the pain.
Dr. Styles fucked him with it lazily for a while, bringing him back to the edge and then stopping several times, making Louis sob with desperation and plead for release. The man’s expression seemed to darken with each plea, until finally something seemed to click inside him, and he gripped Louis' hip hard enough to leave bruises.
He lined himself up, the dildo still inside Louis, and Louis’ eyes widened with horror as he realised what the man was about to do.
“Let’s see how far you can stretch, little dove,” he growled, and Louis screamed as he pushed himself in alongside the dildo, Louis’ rim stretching obscenely, making the doctor hiss at the tightness around his cock.
He paused, allowing Louis to get used to the stretch, but Louis was overwhelmed, in pain, and entirely at his mercy.
“Please, no more, Master, please!” he cried, and Dr. Styles ignored him, pushing in another inch and smiling fondly as Louis cried out again.
“You can take it, baby,” he cooed, and he thrust hard, pushing the air out of Louis and leaving him holding his breath, fuller than he thought possible. Louis’ cock was flagging now, pain overtaking arousal, but the doctor grabbed it and pumped it carefully, using every technique to get him hard again.
It was too much.
Louis could only submit. All of the fight drained out of him; every rebellious thought, every unruly temptation faded away, and he finally accepted everything the doctor, his master, was giving him.
He was hard again, and his master was fucking into him faster and deeper, pulling the dildo out along with his cock and fucking back in with it relentlessly, Louis hole now sloppy and gaping. He could feel Dr. Styles approaching his orgasm as the thrusts became more ragged, and suddenly there was a hand around his neck, putting pressure on it that allowed him to breathe but made his brain even fuzzier.
“Say my name, dove,” Dr. Styles growled as he fucked harder. Louis tried to get the words out.
“Doc- Dr. Styles,” he whined as best he could, and his master shook his head roughly, slamming his hips into Louis and grunting.
“No,” he commanded. “Say my name, baby. Call me Harry. Say it!” He shouted the last words, and Louis could only obey weakly.
“Harry,” he breathed, his own orgasm building as the man continued to fuck him and pump his cock.
“Louder, little dove.”
“Harry!” Louis screamed it out, and almost instantly Harry moaned, thrusts becoming slower but harder, until with one final push, the deepest yet, he came hard inside Louis. The heat and fullness and pain and helplessness finally took over, and Louis screamed as his orgasm hit him, his cock spurting up between them.
They both panted as they came down from their highs, and Harry pulled out as gently as he could, cooing over Louis and running his hands softly down the boy's stomach and thighs. He slid the dildo out, and Louis could feel the come leaking out of him. He whined at the sensation.
“Shhh, little dove, I’ve got you,” the doctor murmured, grabbing a soft cloth and gently wiping his hole, keeping the pressure light so as not to hurt him. He quickly released the restraints and pulled Louis to his chest, holding him close while he carried the boy over to the sofa.
Louis revelled in the aftercare. The soft touches of the warm, damp cloth soothed his sore body, as the soft words falling from Harry’s mouth soothed his troubled mind. He was pliant and quiet as he was cared for, mutely obeying as he was fed and encouraged to drink water, before slumping into the doctor’s arms as he was put into a warm bath and washed, Harry’s hands cleaning every inch of him with care and gentle attention.
By the time Harry took him into the bedroom, the defiant voice in Louis’ mind that had kept him from fully submitting was almost quiet. Almost.
He plucked up his courage, turning to the doctor and looking at him with the softest, least challenging expression he could muster.
“Um, Master?” he asked, using the title he thought would keep Harry happiest. The doctor smiled fondly at him, stroking his face.
“Yes, my little dove?”
“The programme,” he started, trying to word the question as carefully as possible. “You said it was, er, for life? Can I ask what that really means?”
Harry chuckled and looked at Louis as the boy held his breath, hoping he hadn’t done anything to warrant a punishment.
“I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out yet, baby,” he said, amused. “Every Petrovich ‘inmate’ is matched with a Treatment Lead, who becomes their dominant. Inmates become submissives, and once full submission is confirmed as part of the programme, this relationship continues back into normal life.”
Like a jigsaw puzzle, things started to fall into place in Louis mind, and the defiant voice in his head that had been quiet got ever louder as the feeling of dismay grew. His look of horror made Harry grin gleefully.
“There are several levels of Dom/Sub relationship that persist in the outside world, love,” he said calmly. “Level A, where the submissive has monthly sessions with their Dom but otherwise lives a normal life; Level B, where weekly sessions are necessary; and Level C, where the Sub lives with the Dom permanently, living and working normally otherwise.”
Louis tried to process what he was being told. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. Perhaps if he behaved, if he committed to the programme and to the doctor, his dominant, he could live a relatively normal life after all this.
Hope sprung again in his chest, and he sat up, smiling tentatively as Harry continued.
“Then there’s Level X,” Dr. Styles said ominously, and the tone sent a chill down Louis’ spine. “Level X subs are not permitted to return to normal life; they become their dominant’s full time submissive. They live to serve their dom, foregoing a life outside of submission.”
The look on the doctor’s face made Louis feel sick.
“This mark.” He ran his fingers softly down the raw tattoo on Louis’ neck. “This beautiful mark signifies who will be your dominant with their initials, little dove, and after your inmate number, it shows the level of sub you will be, for the rest of your life.”
Louis’ mind dragged back to the tattoo on his neck, trying desperately to remember what letters it contained. Harry didn’t stop him when he fought his way free from the man’s embrace, laughing as Louis raced to the ensuite bathroom.
He gazed, horrified at his neck in the mirror, Harry’s laughter echoing in his head, and the full reality of his future finally becoming crystal clear as he read and re-read the tattoo that sealed his fate.
HS001X