Free The Right Treatment by Tara Finnegan

you’ve been pumping into it.” He was delighted when there was no word of protest. Another victory.
    When the run was over, Matt noticed Aoife wasn’t even much out of puff and her face was only slightly pink from the exertion. She was able for even more. Tomorrow he would up it again. His ultimate goal for her was a minimum of one hour of strenuous exercise, six days a week. If he could, he would love for her to join some sort of regular exercise club before she left his care. People who worked their bodies seemed to have more respect for them, in his view, and were less likely to pollute them with toxins. Plus, he figured a club would reawaken Aoife’s high-achieving nature and keep her toeing the line, purely from the desire to be the best.
    Once they returned, Matt insisted on taking blood-pressure readings again to ensure she hadn’t been pushed too far. He sent her back to lie on her bed, but this time didn’t ask her to undress, just to take off her tee shirt so he could listen to her chest. Aoife seemed to have no difficulty complying; she was temporarily beaten.
    She looked lovely as she lay there in just her bra and running shorts. Her body had a soft pink glow from exercise and a light sheen from perspiration. Matt was glad he hadn’t let her shower first. He sat on the bed and busied himself getting his medical instruments. He could smell the scent of her arousal. The spanking was now in afterglow and her amenable behaviour since had shown that submission pushed her buttons. The scent and that knowledge was driving him insane.
    “Sit forward,” he commanded, creating a mental distance. No way could he listen from the front now. He warmed the stethoscope before placing it on her back. Her essence, heightened by the activity, filled his senses. Aoife’s chest was clear as a whistle, any shortness of breath already gone. He checked her pulse at her neck, and noted it was already slowed down to nearly normal. He admired the curves and how her moist, sweaty hair kissed it. Oh, how he envied those tresses, being that close to her. Being part of her. He could feel his cock stiffen and tense in his shorts for the second time that day and he shifted his position to hide his arousal and to remove himself enough so he would resist the urge to devour her.
    “Well, am I fit for it, doc?” Aoife asked. Matt stiffened. For a brief moment he misunderstood her, he thought she could see into his soul. He panicked, coughed, and then breathed again as he realised his error.
    “Dr. McDaid. Yes, tomorrow we run rather than jog,” he managed to force out. To him his voice seemed high-pitched and flustered. He wondered if Aoife noticed.
    “Tomorrow I will also do that exam you are due. You’ll come to the hospital after rehab. And now I am going to grab a shower then prepare some dinner. You may shower, but just put on your pyjama tops or a tee shirt and bathrobe. After dinner you have some lines to write.”
    He left before she could protest. And before her delicious, feminine, heady scent drove him to do something he would definitely regret.

Chapter Six
     
     
    Hate was a new emotion to Aoife. Even when she considered her parents, the strongest emotion seemed to be scorn, or bitterness. But right now she was pretty damn sure she hated Matt McDaid as he sat opposite her, watching her squirm on his hard dining chair as she wrote out her lines.
    She handed him over the first sheet with ‘I must show courtesy and respect to those who are good enough to help me’ hurriedly scrawled out twenty times. He looked it over and then looked over the top of the page at her. She knew it was full of spelling mistakes; when she was under pressure, she got confused. She waited for him to berate her for it, her dander up.
    “By rights, I should bin this for sloppiness. You had better neaten up, unless you want to start over.”
    “That’s not fair. You know I can’t help it.”
    “Aoife, I don’t give a damn if your letters are