The addled mind of the once-fearsome Black Widow addled mind was an utterly befuddled mess in her current situation, balancing the sheer shame of being draped butt naked over the one man in the world she was most desperate to impress, clearly about to have her bare bottom spanked for the crime of wetting herself while masturbating in front of him. How could she have ever found herself in this position? How had they managed to weaken her so badly? Would she ever be able to regain her strength and self-control?
But stronger than all these feelings were the knowledge that she knew she wanted it to happen more than she could imagine. Overcome with desire for the demagogue beneath her, she longed for any personal treatment he would give her, even something this demeaning. If only she could control herself a bit better, maybe he'd want to do it again, sometime when she had recovered enough of her capabilities that she could exert herself more to make it a more pleasurable experience for him. Maybe, somehow, she could yet convince him that she was someone that was worthy of his sexual jollification. She could not even begin to imagine any sort of even-handed sexual relationship with him, her feelings of inadequacy so far ingrained that her strongest focus was trying to present herself as a fully compliant joy-toy.
The Doctor rudely interrupted her with a brutal open-ended slap to her prostate posterior, sending a shiver of pain and pleasure throughout her delectable frame, her swollen breasts swinging madly inches from the floor. She whimpered pathetically, as long-expected as the blow was, her enfeebled body and lack of self-control meaning she was utterly unable to withstand it. Any discipline she had was totally diverted to not pleading for mercy, her enslaved subconscious resolute in the knowledge that the Doctor was always right and never to be doubted; if he had decided she deserved a spanking, then he had an absolute right to administer it. Her views were totally irrelevant.
A second slap shuddered her body helplessly, and a third, and a fourth in far quicker succession. Once she had the body of a hardened warrior that could have taken far worse punishment than this with barely a flinch. But now her body shuddered and quivered helplessly, wobbling pathetically across his knee and gibbering incoherently. With her incapable of relevant speech, the Doctor decided to add a running commentary.
"I'm not enjoying this you know." He blatantly lied, and the Black Widow's heart sank in disappointment, completely oblivious to the throbbing erection beneath her. "You-need-to-un-der-stand...", each syllable punctuated by a smack even harder than the one, "That a supposed 'Superheroine' (smack!) does not wet herself under the slightest provocation. A disciplined warrior (smack!) does not have a squirting orgasm after 10 seconds that sends her dildo across the room. A trained assassin does not forget to don her weapons. An Agent of Shield does not forget to even put her knickers on!"
Tears poured freely down the Black Widow's cheeks, and her rear ones grew ever more red and swollen. Her conditioning meant that she could not even consider offering any resistance, even if her physical condition could allow her the ability to make even the most token resistance. Her subconscious made her shuffle her positioning imperceptably to offer her more sensitive and formerly private areas better into his striking zone - she knew how fully she deserved it. She didn't even hope that her torment would soon end, instead grateful for the manliness of the Doctor that his stamina could mean her her treatment would follow it's rightful course. In her more lucid moments she thanked him, encouraging him to strike her harder...
...And the Doctor did his best. He knew he could have inflicted her far more pain if he used an implement, but he instead relished the renewed humiliation being heaped upon her, being spanked like a bare-bottomed child. And she reached new depths, sobbing pathetically as her quivering body betrayed her once again; her lactating breasts spraying more of their contents across the polished floor. She clutched the swollen orbs desperately to little effect. But as this shifted her weight downwards, her buttocks rose slightly and she felt an uncertain discomfort on top of the pain. She realised in horror that, completely unbidden, her bowels were shifting inside her. Not this too! What could she do? She dare not interrupt him or his treatment of her, but she absolutely dare not befoul herself in this position - not on him! Not like this!
"Doctor, I know I have no right to interrupt you", she confessed; "I think I'm going to mess myself..."
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