Nurse's Orders

by Penny Birch

  ‘Cute,’ he remarked. ‘I like you like that. Skirt off.’

  He was pulling on his cock, quite hard, as I quickly undid my skirt and dropped it to the ground. Bending, I pulled it free of my ankles in such a way that I let him see my breasts loll forwards.

  ‘Tights off,’ he ordered. ‘And do that again.’

  I repeated the manoeuvre, taking my boots with my tights to leave myself in panties and the raised jumper. Monty was wanking harder than ever, his face already starting to turn red. As I stood up once more I turned to let him see the full effect.

  ‘Now the jumper.’

  I nodded and pulled it quickly up over my head. Again he licked his lips.

  ‘Knickers,’ he said, ‘and stick it out as you pull them down, right out.’

  I obeyed, or began to. He had started to puff and was jerking at his cock so hard that I was sure he’d come at any moment. As I stuck my bottom out and pushed my thumb into the waistband of the tarty red panties, he moved close, the head of his cock touching the material. I had already begun to lower them, showing the top of my crease, but I stopped, wondering if he wanted to rut between my buttocks again.

  ‘Hold them out,’ he grunted. ‘Show your bum.’

  He was really hammering at his cock, and I realised what he was going to do even as I pulled out the rear pouch of my panties to let him look down them. An instant later it happened, sperm erupting from his cock to splash across my lower back and between my buttocks. The second gout went down my panties, the third over the seat. Then he had taken me by the hips and pushed himself against me, rubbing in my crease, to smear the sperm between my buttocks and over his cock. I almost fell but held my place, letting him finish off over my soggy panty seat. When he finally finished I was left soiled and sticky, with the panties pushed into my cleft and sperm smeared from the small of my back to my anus, into which a piece had trickled as he rutted on me.

  ‘Shit!’ he swore. ‘I meant to make you eat that. Still…’

  He took hold of my panties and jerked them down. A finger was inserted between my cheeks to touch my anus and pulled slowly up, collecting the sperm from my crease. I couldn’t help but screw my face up as I realised what he intended to make me do, but I opened my mouth obediently enough when the dirty finger was put to my face, slimy with sperm. He pushed it in and I sucked, tasting him and my own bottom, which really brought home the urgency of my sex. I began to suck eagerly, mouthing on his finger to get as much in as possible, until he finally pulled it free.

  ‘Dirty bitch,’ he remarked. ‘Right, get those dirty knickers off and into the kitchen with you.’

  I completed my strip, dropping the now thoroughly soiled panties and kicking them aside. Nude, and with my bottom-crease still slimy with sperm, I walked into the kitchen. The pinny was behind the door and I put it on without having to be told. He sat down, his cock and balls still hanging from his trousers, and began to unpack the bag of groceries he’d bought in the minimarket. There was a can of beans and another of meatballs, margarine, a loaf of bread and that was all.

  ‘Get going, then,’ he instructed, nodding to the little pile.

  ‘I will stick to my bottle, I think,’ I told him.

  ‘Good, all the more for me.’

  I began to cook or, rather, heat, as all it involved was pouring the contents of the two cans together in a grubby saucepan and putting them on the hob. I spread the margarine on to the bread as the rest heated up, all the while acutely conscious of my bare, messy bottom and of Monty playing with his cock behind me. By the time I’d prepared six slices of bread the beans had begun to bubble. I turned the gas off, not wanting to risk getting scalded, and turned Monty a questioning glance.

  ‘How do you want me?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, you can go and wash your arse for a start,’ he replied. ‘You may eat spunk. I don’t.’

  I nodded and made for the bathroom to wash my bottom and inspect myself in the miserable little mirror he used for shaving. I’d shaved my sex and bottom that morning and my crease was pink and smooth, as was my pussy, although my vagina was already leaking fluid.

  Back in the kitchen, Monty had spread the table with newspaper and placed his bread bin in the centre. It was big and made of tin, with a curved top, actually rather a good thing for bending a girl over – for punishment. The thought put a lump in my throat and my fear must have showed in my eyes, because Monty’s lit up immediately.

  ‘Of course, I owe you a spanking!’ he crowed. ‘I’d forgotten. You said I could use the hairbrush, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I admittedly sullenly, ‘but not hard, please, Monty?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ he promised. ‘Get in position.’

  He left the room as I crawled up on to the table, thinking miserable thoughts and cursing myself for allowing my face to betray my emotions. The bread bin was cold and made my tummy twitch as I laid myself across it, positioning myself so that my bottom was pointing straight up in the air, with my anus showing at the centre. It was hardly a comfortable position, but a girl doesn’t need to be in a comfortable position to have her bottom smacked, not when it hurts so much, just a vulnerable one.

  Monty came back almost immediately, holding not the hairbrush but a huge wooden spoon with the words ‘The World’s Biggest Stirrer’ painted on the handle. It was enormous, the bowl just about big enough to cup one of my bottom-cheeks, and I could only stare in horror.

  ‘This was what I first spanked Tasha with,’ he announced proudly. ‘You should blame her, really, if you don’t like it. She was the one who got me into spanking, and I love it!’

  With the last word he brought the horrible thing around hard, full on to my bottom. I heard the smack of the impact, mingled with my scream of shock and pain as it hit. It was worse than the hairbrush, far worse, agony. I’d jumped, but he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pushed my face down on to the table, even as a second swat caught me full across my cheeks to set my legs kicking and wring another scream from my lips. Monty just laughed and set to work, holding me down by my neck as he beat me, smack after smack until I was crazy with pain, kicking and screaming and wriggling my agonised bottom about in a futile attempt to escape the blows.

  It was so sudden, so fast, that I didn’t actually think to use my stop word. Nor did I burst into tears until it had finished, when I made up for it with a vengeance. He stopped as suddenly as he’d begun, to leave my bottom throbbing furiously, the muscles of my legs and stomach jumping, my sex contracting on empty air. It hurt so much, and as a great stab of self-pity hit me I just exploded into uncontrollable sobs, gasping and blubbering out my feelings into the newspaper under my face. It showed a picture of some dignitary, perhaps a mayor, smiling benignly as he bent to cut a ribbon, an image that stuck in my head and somehow made me feel yet more sorry for myself.

  Monty had gone silent and let go of my neck. I knew he was wondering if he’d overdone it, and he had – but then, he always did. I was really blubbering, with my whole body shaking to my sobs, and I simply couldn’t speak or I would have told him exactly what I thought. Then he began to stroke my hair, and my response was immediately turned in on itself. I turned to manage a weak smile.

  ‘Too hard, yes?’ he asked.

  I nodded feebly. I was shivering and blind with tears. There was mucus running from my nose on to the picture of the mayor, along with the spittle from my open mouth.

  ‘It’s got to be done, you know, Gabby,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you why.’

  Even as he finished speaking, one fat finger found my sex and pushed in, up my vagina in one easy motion, to make me gasp again, only not with pain.

  ‘No girl’s ever so wet as when she’s been spanked,’ he said, ‘or you’re not anyway, nor’s Tasha.’

  I didn’t answer, but slumped back down, laying my cheek into the little pool of my own wet on the newspaper. I could see Monty, just about, still with his cock and balls hanging out of his trousers. Whatever the spanking might h
ave done to me, it had certainly affected him. His cock was already half hard, pushing up against the overhang of his belly, with the red tip half out of the foreskin.

  ‘Tea time,’ he declared happily, and turned to the stove.

  He picked up the saucepan, dipped a finger in, sucked it and nodded in satisfaction. I braced myself, confident it wouldn’t be scalding, but sure it would be hot. It was. He brought it up over my bottom and tipped gently. I gasped as the sauce touched my skin full between my cheeks, and again as the first trickle reached my anus, a third time as my vagina began to fill. Monty just chuckled and poured faster, slopping the beans out into my crease. They landed as a mass, filling my cleft and spilling out across my buttocks and the small of my back, also down over my sex and on to the tops of my thighs. The meatballs came with them, the last of them plopping down between my buttocks to leave my whole rear soggy, with the mess trickling slowly down over my skin. I could feel the weight of it too, a not unfamiliar sensation that drew an involuntary sigh of pleasure from me.

  Still looking back, I watched Monty replace the saucepan on the stove. He picked up the plate of bread and margarine I had prepared for him and put it down behind me out of sight. I was still clutching the table, the way I had been when my spanking finished, and moved to rest my cheek on my hands as he took a knife and fork from a drawer, then a spoon.

  I was wondering why he needed three implements, and tried to look back over my shoulder as he came beside me and bent over the pile of food on my bottom. He had the knife and fork in one hand, the spoon in the other, his fat face beaming as he lowered it to touch my sex.

  My mouth came wide as my vagina was levered open. My hole immediately filled with baked beans, trickling in along with the sauce until a meatball blocked my passage. Monty gave a cluck of amusement, took the knife and pushed it in.

  ‘Must you?’ I managed as I felt it squash in my hole.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered decisively, and tugged down on the spoon.

  It hurt, and I gave a hiss of pain as my vagina was stretched wide. More beans went in, and another meatball, which Monty pressed in after the first. A third followed, and a fourth, Monty chuckling in childish glee as he stuffed my vagina. When he eventually pulled the spoon out I was so full I could feel the wad of food inside me, again a not completely unfamiliar feeling.

  My bottom still hurt but I was back in control, more or less, and starting to enjoy what was being done to me, if only because the feelings were so similar to one of the nicest things of all. Monty seemed happy stuffing me, and I let him get on with it, even purring a little as more and more of the mess was caked into my vagina.

  Finally he tired of the game, put the spoon down and began to eat, using the knife and fork to scrape up beans and sauce from my bottom. I relaxed into it, actually quite enjoying the rough, smacked feeling of my bottom-flesh, as well as the slowly cooling food. I closed my eyes, imagining a different situation, with not Monty but my bobonne standing over me, scraping mess off my bottom as she chided me gently for getting into such a state. It was a nice fantasy, and had me purring properly before Monty had finished with my bottom-cheeks and began to eat what was between them.

  I knew he was getting excited when he put the knife down and began to tug at his cock. Hoping he’d lick me, I lifted my bottom, only to have the fork jab into my flesh, right down in my crease.

  ‘Ow!’ I complained. ‘Careful!’

  Monty nodded and put the fork down. A moment later I got my wish. He didn’t hesitate but just buried his face between my upturned buttocks, indifferent to the mess. I felt the beans squash out over my bottom again and into my crease, against my anus. He began to lick, and to kiss, taking individual beans up off my roughened bottom-skin with his lips, and lapping at the sauce left behind. It was getting good, very good indeed, and I was hoping he’d make a proper job of my sex and make me come.

  It got better when he began to clean up my crease, with his tongue right on my bottom-hole, a sensation I enjoy second only to having my clitoris licked. He made a thorough job of it too, lapping and probing until my hole was pulsing and urgent. It was also vulnerable, and I was terrified he would try and sodomise me as I was so obviously ready for penetration.

  He didn’t try anything, despite his cock being rock hard once more, but licked until my crease was clean and wet, with my anus moist and a little open at the centre. Only then did he turn his attention to my sex, mouthing at my vagina to suck out a mouthful of meatballs and beans. Most of it came out in one, and I gasped again as I was unplugged, to leave my sex gaping and ready. I was wondering if he would have the decency to make me come or just fuck me, and I was going to ask – only for him to forestall the question. He had begun to suck up the sauce from my pussy, and when his lips found my clitoris I could only stick my bottom up for more as a long sigh escaped my lips.

  For a moment he stopped to move round to the end of the table. I groaned in disappointment, thinking he was going to mount me without making me come, and I was going to speak again when he took me firmly by the legs, pulled them wide and buried his face in my bottom. He kissed my anus, sucking at the little ring, lapped at the little bar of flesh between my holes, probed my vagina briefly, kissed my sex-lips and suddenly, sucked my clitoris into his mouth, hard. I screamed at an unbearable sensation combining ecstasy, a stabbing pain and the worst tickling sensation imaginable.

  ‘No, too much!’ I gasped. ‘Ow! Monty!’

  He just ignored me, holding my clitoris between his blubbery lips and licking the end. It was truly unbearable, but he’d got me by the thighs and was pulling me into himself, with his nose stuck up my pussy and the bristles of his face rubbing on my sex. I screamed again, utterly out of control as my muscles went into spasm, buttocks and thighs squeezing in his face, my sex twitching and jumping. I was coming, my vagina in frantic contraction, my anus pulsing, my muscles jerking, then rigid as his teeth closed on my clitoris.

  I really screamed with the full force of my lungs, and jerked frantically to one side with all my force. Monty held on but let go of my clitoris. I lashed out frantically behind me, struggling to hit him even as I babbled for mercy. All I succeeded in doing was slapping my own bottom, but he stopped to pull back, with his fat, grinning face smeared with baked-bean juice, and blurred because my glasses had fallen off.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Don’t you just love it?’

  All I could do was collapse, unable to speak, unable to think straight. My head was spinning, my vision blurred. My sex felt red raw, adding to the pain in my bottom, and I could feel what remained of the mess he’d put up me dribbling slowly down over my pubic mound and between my thighs.

  ‘Hang on a minute, and I’ll fuck you,’ Monty remarked casually.

  Something touched my bottom, wiping at one sauce-smeared cheek. I managed to turn my head, wondering what he was doing, to find him stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth, left handed, while he tugged at his cock with the right.

  I lay still as he ate the bread, slowly recovering. Each piece he used to wipe sauce up from my bottom, and in doing so smeared me with margarine. By the time he’d finished, my bottom was a greasy, shiny ball, my reddened cheeks glistening in the light as I craned back again to see. He’d stood up, his face still crammed with bread, and was swinging one huge leg up on to the table.

  ‘Cunt time, Gabby,’ he announced as he swallowed. ‘God, I just love the way skinny girls show from the rear. Cunt on show, arsehole on show.’

  The table groaned as Monty climbed on behind me. He straddled my thighs, his fat legs squashing them together, although my position still left my sex vulnerable. Also my anus, as he’d pointed out to me.

  His cock came down in the cleft of my cheeks, hot and hard, his balls squashing between them to the rear of my sex. He began to rub.

  ‘You’re squashing me, Monty,’ I protested.

  ‘I adore your arse, Gabrielle,’ he sighed, ignoring me completely. ‘You’re so small and round and girly, a
nd your arsehole shows nearly all the time, so pink and tight. You need to be buggered, so badly.’

  ‘Monty, no.’

  ‘Maybe I should just do it. Maybe I should just tie you up good and tight, grease you well and stick my cock up that dirty little hole. You’d soon get to love it.’

  ‘Monty!’

  ‘Oh, all right. I don’t see why you have to make such a fuss, though.’

  ‘Because it would hurt! You might even tear my anus.’

  He gave a sceptical grunt and went back to rubbing his cock in my bottom-crease. I was helpless under his weight, so that if he wanted to sodomise me he could. It was terrifying, knowing he wanted to do it, and that his excitement would be telling him to, and as he took hold of his cock and pushed into down into my cleft I was bracing myself to be forced.

  I’d have screamed and struggled, maybe managed to stop him. More likely I’d have been sodomised. Fortunately he had enough decency left not to try, but contented himself with rubbing his cock-head on my anus before putting it to my vagina, and up.

  It was impossible not to sigh as I filled with cock, but there was relief as well as pleasure. He began to fuck me, grunting and panting as always, his belly slapping on my upturned bottom. I was sure there were still meatballs up my vagina, because there was an odd, squashy feeling inside me.

  He didn’t seem to care in any case, humping away happily on my bottom, and pulling out occasionally to rub himself in the slimy valley of my bottom-crease. I knew it would take a while, or that he might not even find the energy to come a second time, and tried to relax, despite the feeling of being crushed. When he was well in the hairs on his balls would tickle my clitoris, which was nice, but never enough to bring me off. Before long I was beginning to want to come properly, but with the bread bin in the way I had no way of masturbating. I could only be patient, enduring my fucking with the knowledge that my orgasm would be nicer still once I was full of sperm.