The tea in Rose’s cup was long cold, her fingers tracing the delicate gold rim as she prepared to speak. Her bold, extroverted nature usually dominated their meetings, but today there was a raw, humbled edge to her voice.

​“Julian decided that my resistance to the new clinic’s protocols was… unacceptable,” Rose began, her face flushing a deep crimson. “He told me I was overdue for a series of vaccinations, but I’ve always hated the way those old-fashioned serums burn. I told him no. I actually told him no.”

​The other women gasped. In their world, a direct refusal was a rare and dangerous thing.

​

​The scene had unfolded the previous evening in Julian’s private study. The room was a sanctuary of dark wood and the sharp, clean scent of rubbing alcohol. Julian sat behind his desk, his medical ledger open, looking every bit the authoritarian doctor.

​“Rose, darling,” Julian said, his voice deceptively smooth. “The public health requirements are not suggestions. You will receive your six vaccinations and a seventh injection of a tonic to settle this sudden rebellious streak of yours. To make you see who is in charge here.”

​“I’m not a child, Julian!” Rose had snapped, her curvy frame trembling with a mix of bravado and burgeoning fear. “I won’t be poked and prodded just because you’ve decided it’s time.”

​Julian stood up slowly. He was a man of medium height but immense, quiet power. He walked over to the glass-fronted medical cabinet and turned the key. The clink of glass against glass sent a shiver down Rose’s spine.

​“You are my wife,” he said, his back to her as he began to boil the water for the sterilization of the archaic glass syringes. “And you are my patient. When you refuse necessary care, you forfeit the right to a gentle approach.”

​Rose watched in mounting horror as he prepared the tray. He didn’t use modern, plastic disposables; Julian swore by the heavy, thick-walled glass barrels and long, reusable steel needles. He lined up four of them, the needles looking impossibly thick and daunting.

​“I’m leaving, Julian!” Rose cried, turning for the door.

​In a flash, Julian’s hand was on her arm, his grip firm and clinical. “You are going nowhere. You’ve turned a simple medical necessity into a disciplinary matter. Now, you will take these injections, and you will do so while learning the value of obedience. ”

​He didn't give her a choice. He steered her toward the high, leather-topped examination table in the center of the room. Rose struggled, her strength fueled by a genuine fear of the needles, but Julian was relentless.

​“Julian, please! I’ll be good, I’ll take them tomorrow!” she sobbed, her bold personality dissolving into frantic pleas.

​“Today, Rose. And since you’ve fought me, I’m going to ensure you remember this session.” He pinned her against the table, and pulled her panties down, his weight making it impossible for her to move. With one practiced motion, he prepared her for the shots.

​“No, no, no!” Rose screamed as she felt the cold air on her skin, followed by the sharp, stinging swipe of an alcohol cotton ball.

​“Be still,” Julian commanded, his voice a low growl near her ear. He picked up the first glass syringe, tapping the side to watch the heavy liquid dance. “This is the first vaccination. It’s thick, and it’s going to hurt because you’ve tensed your muscles so tight.”

​The first plunge of the steel needle was agonizing. Rose let out a muffled shriek into the leather padding, her legs kicking out instinctively until Julian clamped a hand down on her thigh. The pressure of the fluid entering the muscle was slow and burning.

​“That's One,” Julian counted coldly.

​He didn’t wait. He picked up the second syringe immediately. Rose was sobbing now, her body heaving with great, racking gasps. “Please, Julian, it hurts so much! Stop!”

​“You should have thought of the pain before you defied me,” he replied, sinking the second long needle into the other side of her buttocks. This one was even more painful, the serum feeling like liquid fire. Rose’s screams echoed in the quiet study, her spirit finally breaking under the weight of his clinical dominance.

​By the third shot, the "punishment" element was clear. Julian took his time, making her wait while he meticulously checked the fourth syringe. Rose lay there, trembling, her face wet with tears, completely surrendered. The shots came one after another and were more painful that the Jan's she received as child at the health clinic. Julian make sure arose felt each one in her buttocks.

​“Ready for the last one?” Julian asked, his tone almost conversational.

​“Yes,” Rose whispered, a broken, submissive sound. “Please… just finish it, Julian. I’m sorry.”

​“That’s my girl,” he murmured. The final injection, the punishment tonic, was delivered with a slow, deliberate pressure that made Rose sob in a mix of pain and relief.

​Back in the library, Rose wiped a fresh tear from her eye. “When he was done, he made me stay there for ten minutes to ‘recover my composure.’ He told me that next time, the treatment would be doubled if I raised my voice again.”

​“And what did you do?” Mia asked, her voice trembling.

​Rose looked at her friends, a strange, secret light in her eyes. “I thanked him. I felt so… looked after. So completely under his care.”