Nurse's Orders

by Penny Birch

  ‘Get up, both of you,’ Anna ordered.

  I hesitated, not at all sure if we were still playing, or if her anger was genuine. Her next statement made it clear.

  ‘It’s the cane for both of you,’ she said. ‘Twelve.’

  We were still playing, but it was hardly reassuring. I swung my legs down from the bed as Poppy moved and got up. My load moved as I stood and sagged down in my nappy. I knew it would look blatant from behind, a great fat bulge, making it quite obvious what I had done. I stayed facing firmly forwards.

  ‘Turn around, Gabby,’ Anna ordered.

  I hesitated only a moment, then turned, shuffling around on my feet to show off the rear of my nappy.

  ‘Disgusting,’ she stated. ‘Go and wash your hands, the pair of you, then over the bed.’

  I was actually all right, but I was not going to argue. Poppy and I took turns at the sink, with Anna watching all the while. She was wearing a long, flannelette nightie and slippers, with her hair down, so long it hung almost to her knees. In her hand she carried that same vicious-looking cane I had been beaten with earlier. Considering the state of my bottom, I couldn’t imagine she would insist on beating me, and I was certainly going to have to clean up properly. The sink was a huge porcelain affair, big enough for me to sit in, but when I began to climb in she spoke again.

  ‘That will not be necessary, Gabby. Come and stand by the bed.’

  ‘You’re not really going to cane me, are you?’ I queried. ‘Not like this?’

  ‘And why should I not?’

  ‘I’m dirty, Anna…I mean, Miss Vale, and I’m so bruised.’

  ‘With me, Gabby, you must learn to accept the consequences of your actions. Your bottom is not the only part of your anatomy suitable for the cane. I intend to apply it across the backs of your thighs. Now, do you wish to accept your punishment or leave?’

  ‘It is the middle of the night!’

  ‘Four fifteen a.m., to be precise. Well?’

  ‘I will take it, if I really must, but not too hard, please?’

  She didn’t answer me but tapped the end of the horrible cane on the bed.

  ‘Bend down. Hands on the bed, bottom well out, and keep your legs straight.’

  I bent, feeling the mess squash out over my pussy and up between my cheeks as I stuck my bottom out. I normally clean myself up immediately after making a mess and it was getting uncomfortable. If she knew, she evidently didn’t care.

  The cane was lifted; I shut my eyes, heard it whistle down and screamed as it bit into my upper thighs right under the sagging bulge in my nappy. Instantly I went into my little pain dance. I couldn’t help it, even though it made my load bounce up and down behind me. Poppy laughed, but it only filled me with self-pity and humiliation.

  I hung my head, struggling to cope with the burning pain of my thighs. It hurt so much, far worse than on my bottom, and I could already feel the tears of reaction and self-pity welling up in my eyes. I reached back, touching my welt, my face screwing up in pain as a nail brushed the raw flesh where the cane tip had caught me.

  ‘Oh, you do look a sight, Gabby!’ Poppy said, and laughed again.

  It was more than I could bear. Not that I minded so much standing in front of two other women with a kilo or so of filth hanging in my nappy, but to be caned like that and laughed at by the girl who’d wanted me to do it…I just burst into tears, great racking sobs that shook my whole body and made my bulge wobble, drawing fresh laughter from Poppy for an instant before she realised I was crying.

  ‘Don’t cry, Gabby!’ she said. ‘We’re only playing.’

  ‘I can’t take it!’ I sobbed. ‘It hurts too much!’

  ‘Quiet! Hold your position!’ Anna snapped.

  ‘I…’ I started, and the cane lashed down across my thighs again.

  I screamed, jumping up to clutch at myself and hopping frantically on my toes, struggling to get control and tell her to stop it, that she’d pushed me too far, that it wasn’t fair!

  I never got the chance. Before I could recover myself enough to speak the cane hit me again. I went down over the bed, screaming and kicking out, only for a fourth to hit me and a fifth, cutting into the rear of my thighs so hard that everything was knocked from my head but the agony of my thrashing. My screams were ringing in my ears and I was kicking in a futile effort to dull the pain, but I dared not roll over or try and get up, for fear of getting that horrible cane across my tummy or breasts.

  Maybe she gave me twelve, maybe more. It certainly felt like more. It did finish though, in the end, to leave me a tear-stained mess on the bed, with my face wet with tears and a long piece of mucus hanging from my nose. I couldn’t even speak, only gulp in air and shake my head in my desperate need to make the pain go away.

  They waited for me to calm down, and when I finally managed to wipe the tears from my eyes I found both looking at me, Poppy full of concern, Anna as emotionless as ever. During the beating I’d been furious, but if there’s one thing I am good at it is controlling my temper, and I had managed to bite it down before I spoke.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Vale,’ I managed. ‘Thank you for beating me.’

  ‘Punishing you, Gabby, dear,’ she replied. ‘A punishment I am sure you will agree you deserved?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Vale.’

  ‘Good. I knew you were a sensible girl at heart. Now go and clean that filthy mess up while I correct Poppy.’

  I nodded agreement, although my real feelings were very different, resentment and anger, for her and for Natasha, who I was fairly sure had deliberately set me up. Only for Poppy did I feel no resentment, and that was why I had held back. She had been so loving, so gentle, and so in tune with my baby-girl fantasy. I couldn’t possibly have done anything to risk alienating her, even if she did think it was funny to see me in tears of pain.

  My thighs were absolutely burning and I was limping as I crossed to the sink. I turned the single tap on and climbed in, wincing as freezing water swirled around my cane-cuts. It began to soak into my nappy too, and I quickly undid the pin to clean myself as Poppy was put through the same agonising ritual I had just endured.

  She bent, as I had, hands on the bed and bottom well lifted. Her nightie had fallen and she was made to lift it, exposing ripe, cheeky buttocks, well parted to show the pouted lips of her sex and the tight dimple of her anus. She had bruises too, not as bad as mine and more regular, showing she had been caned perhaps two weeks before.

  I watched her thrashing as I cleaned myself up, amazed at the way she took it. Twelve hard strokes were delivered to her bottom and upper thighs, each planted with exact precision and laid on with the full strength of Anna’s arm. She never even squeaked, even when a cut caught her in the succal groove, right under the fat of her buttocks, to leave twin red marks on her sex-lips. Even that was met with no more than a hiss of expelled air from between her lips. She counted too, each one, and afterwards went to her knees to kiss her mistress’ cane.

  By then I was feeling slightly ashamed of my own overheated reaction. True, she was used to it and obviously enjoyed it, yet she had been so calm, certainly calmer than Natasha, who was the only other girl I’d seen caned. I was pretty well clean by then too, and finished off by running a sinkful of water to let my dirty nappy soak. Poppy was smiling, obviously aroused, and kept glancing at me. Anna waited calmly until I had finished, then pointed at the floor in front of her.

  ‘Kneel,’ she ordered.

  I went, keeping my emotions to myself as I realised I was to be made to lick her. Down on my knees, I looked up to meet her cold, clear eyes as she stepped forwards. She never spoke or betrayed any emotion. Her nightie came up, displaying large, lace-trimmed knickers. Her panty-crotch was pulled aside, revealing a bushy sex, with her crevice pink and moist. I was taken by the head and pulled in to lick until she came, with no more than a soft sigh.

  Four

  I was limping when I left Anna Vale’s the next morning, with my upper thighs a mass of purple
bruising. There was no question in my mind that the entire incident had been intentional, with the possible exception of Poppy’s little bit of medical fantasy in the afternoon. The rest had been carefully planned to suit my fantasy and theirs. I had anticipated a measure of compromise, but not ending up too sore to sit down and with a set of bruises that was going to mean I had to keep myself covered up for weeks.

  I was also pretty sure Natasha had known what she was letting me in for. No sooner had I got home than I was certain. She had left a message asking me how I’d got on in between giggles. I was not in the mood to respond and ran myself a bath, into which I poured a generous amount of essential oils.

  With an eleven o’clock appointment I had a fair bit of time, so I let myself soak and thought about their set-up and how it applied to me. Anna was clearly a stickler for maintaining role, even to the point of deliberately indulging in a sexual hypocrisy that belonged not to the mid-twentieth century but to the late nineteenth. Poppy was less fanatical and obviously keen to indulge some of her fantasies without always being in the submissive role. She also seemed pretty keen on me.

  That was one of the good things about the experience. The other was the level of relaxation I had achieved during the afternoon. None of the various meditation techniques I had tried produced anything like the level of serenity I had achieved, and it had gone well beyond the way I usually felt in nappies. The reason, I was sure, was twofold, combining the knowledge that Poppy was there to look after me and the fact that I had been completely out of communication. I had also to admit the possibility of a third factor – my caning.

  Even if it did take a punishment to really get me there it was something I badly wanted to achieve again, but preferably not at the expense of so much bruising. I might need spanking, but I did not need to be beaten until I lost all control of my senses. Poppy, I was sure, would treat me fairly, and despite a degree of guilt I found myself considering ways of playing with her in Anna’s absence.

  By eleven I was more or less ready for my client, despite a strong desire not to sit down. Fortunately she took this for an intense interest in her case rather than a need to spare a smacked bottom, and she left contented. What I was not ready for was the phone call that followed shortly afterwards. It was from a police station in South London. Monty had been arrested trying to steal panties from a washing line and was in custody. He had given my name as his therapist.

  It was an extremely awkward situation. I had no official status and he was not even technically a client. Ignoring the ignoble temptation to simply deny ever having heard of him, I agreed to go down later in the afternoon. There was another appointment at one, and I left immediately afterwards.

  Monty was in a cell, looking forlorn. They had caught him red-handed, sneaking out of somebody’s back gate with a pair of panties in his pocket – baby-blue cotton with a lace trim, as he pointed out to me. He had at least had the sense not to carry any ID and had refused to give his address. What he wanted me for had nothing whatever to do with therapy. Passing me a carefully secreted key, he asked if I could clear up his flat, which I was not happy about.

  I did it anyway, after having to go through a lengthy discussion of Monty’s mental state with a police psychologist, which ended with me agreeing to a series of specific appointments for him. The panties were easy enough, just about fitting into my bag. The magazines and videos were beyond hope, and I contented myself with taking the two spanking magazines and the bondage one, also the hardest and most perverse of the videos. Even that left me heavily laden, and the trip back to my flat was a serious effort and highly embarrassing, for fear the suitcase I’d taken would burst open.

  By the time I got back I was promising myself that Monty was going to take me to a very, very expensive restaurant, several times. I was also tired, and would probably have gone to bed had there not been another message from Natasha. This time she sounded at least a little apologetic, even worried. She was also offering to cook dinner for me.

  It was exactly what I wanted after my afternoon – good food prepared by someone else, along with waitress service. She was also the only person I could talk to about Monty. I sent her a text message, changed and went straight to the station, arriving at her Primrose Hill flat in under half an hour. She was her normal self, vivacious and enthusiastic, greeting me with a mischievous grin as she stuck her head out of the window. I went up to find her grin broader than ever.

  ‘Grab a seat,’ she offered.

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘Too sore to sit down?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She laughed.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘What happened is that Anna Vale caned me brutally, first across my bottom, then on the back of my thighs.’

  ‘Ouch! But it was good, yeah?’

  ‘The grown-up baby-girl play was good, yes. Poppy is as close to my ideal nanny as I have found. As you know, the beating does nothing for me.’

  ‘It makes your pussy wet.’

  ‘A physiological reaction, no more. Unlike you, I do not need pain for sexual arousal.’

  ‘Nor do I.’

  ‘You crave it.’

  ‘More humiliation.’

  ‘There was no shortage of that either. You should visit them.’

  ‘Maybe I will. So let’s see the damage.’

  I turned to lift my skirt for her and took down my tights and panties. Her mouth came open as she saw the mess Anna Vale had made of my thighs, and she put a hand up to suppress a giggle.

  ‘Maybe not, on second thoughts,’ she stated. ‘I’ll stick to Percy.’

  She was grinning and trying to hold back her laughter. I covered myself.

  ‘Otherwise it was successful,’ I admitted. ‘Although I am not sure you have been entirely honest with me. They had never heard of you, nor of Percy Ottershaw. Who is Penny?’

  ‘Penny Birch. She recommended Anna Vale.’

  ‘And exactly what did you ask her?’

  ‘For a nanny for a grown-up baby girl.’

  ‘And only that?’

  ‘Well, no. I said to find somebody stern. Sorry, but I just love the way you react to punishment. It’s such a turn-on and you’re so funny, the state you get into!’

  ‘Does my pain really amuse you, Natasha?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Gabby, lighten up. You’ve got to admit that there’s something funny about a girl getting a good bare-bottom spanking.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Well, it gets me off. Look, relax, even if it does mean you have to lie face down on the sofa. Have a glass of champagne and you have to tell me everything.’

  ‘Thank you. There is another piece of news. Monty Hartle was arrested on Sunday afternoon for stealing panties from a washing line.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘Superb! Classic!’

  ‘It is not funny, Natasha.’

  ‘No, it’s not funny. It’s hilarious. Oh, come on, Gabrielle, think of the things he’s done to you. What about that spooning he gave you?’

  ‘Nevertheless…’

  ‘Well, I see it as just desserts, whatever you think.’

  ‘I understand your reasoning, Natasha, but consider. Had I been there, it wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘You’re taking the world on your shoulders again, Gabby.’

  ‘I have a measure of responsibility.’

  ‘No, you don’t! Think about it. If we’d never met him he’d have probably been at it all this time, and he was bound to get pinched sooner or later. What are you going to do about it anyway?’

  ‘I have agreed to provide therapy.’

  ‘I hate to tell you this, but Monty probably sees panty stealing as therapy.’

  ‘No doubt. Still, I must do my best to dissuade him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother. Let him stew.’

  She had walked into her kitchen as she spoke, and came back holding a bottle of champagne beaded with condens
ation, and two glasses.

  ‘I’m going to get you drunk,’ she said casually as she began to work on the foil. ‘Then you can let your emotions out and give me the spanking I need. I do deserve it, after all. I dropped you right in it with Anna Vale. The thing is, what I actually told Penny was that you always got in a state, but really liked it hard, and that Anna should ignore you, however big a fuss you made.’

  ‘That was hardly considerate, Natasha, and it doesn’t make me want to punish you.’

  ‘No? If you did that to me I’d be after you with a dog whip! Look, sorry. I misjudged your feelings, but I didn’t mean it to be malicious. Forgive me?’

  ‘Yes, but please don’t do that again.’

  ‘I promise.’

  She had removed the foil, and as she gave the bottle a single precise twist the cork popped out into her hand without spilling a drop. She poured, passed a glass to me and took her own, coming to curl up at my feet, one arm resting in my lap. For a while we sipped champagne in silence before she spoke again.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to punish me?’

  ‘I confess that the thought had occurred to me. It was part of the reason for your trick, yes?’

  ‘Yes. I was actually hoping you’d come round and just deal with me. Spanking is always best for real.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Oh, it is. You of all people should understand that feeling of helplessness, when something is going to happen and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Still. I’ll happily come across your knee if it makes you feel better.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Come on, Gabby. Think of me wriggling and squirming across your lap, with my bum all hot and bare. You could make me lick your pussy afterwards, maybe sit on my face. I’m more than happy to lick your bumhole for you.’

  ‘It would hardly be a punishment then.’

  ‘No, but wouldn’t it be nice?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m not entirely at ease with the thought of punishing you anyway, despite your craving. Still, as you seem to find it so therapeutic, I think we had better have those trousers down. In fact, you can take all your lower garments off.’