by Penny Birch
Throughout our sex, I’d been vaguely aware of noises from the playroom, giggles and the occasional wet sound. It was still going on, and as Nurse Trainer turned from the sink she put her finger to her lips. I nodded and waited until she had adjusted her uniform before following her into the corridor. She pushed the playroom door wide with one sudden motion.
Both girls were on the changing table, Poppy on her back with her thighs up and open, Natasha kneeling, face pressed between her friend’s thighs. Poppy had her baby bottle between her legs, the teat in her pussy, milk bubbling and spurting from her vagina in time to her laughter. Natasha was trying to drink and lick at the same time, her face white with milk and pussy-juice, which had also formed a broad pool under Poppy’s bottom. For a moment neither noticed, until Natasha stopped suddenly to lift her milk-smeared face from Poppy’s sex.
‘And exactly what do you two think you’re doing?’ Nurse Trainer demanded.
‘Just playing, nurse,’ Natasha said hastily.
‘Just playing,’ the nurse echoed.
Natasha nodded hopefully.
‘Wasting good milk, more like,’ Nurse Trainer went on, ‘and indulging your nasty little habits. Punishment for both of you, I think. Get down.’
‘Yes, nurse,’ Natasha answered, swinging a leg off the table.
‘Spanking clearly has little effect,’ the nurse continued as they climbed down slowly, ‘so we shall have to try something different, something appropriate. For you, Poppy, my girl, something to remind you that milk is for drinking. For Natasha, something to calm her down a little.’
Poppy had come down and was standing sheepishly in front of the nurse. Her vest was still up over her breasts to leave them peeping out beneath the folds of pink material. Nurse Trainer nodded thoughtfully.
‘Yes, I think so,’ she said. ‘Come with me. Gabby, bring the bottles.’
The nurse took Poppy’s hand, pulling at her. Poppy came, looking sulky, but meek enough. I gathered up the three bottles and followed, Natasha with me.
‘What are you going to do?’ Poppy demanded, suddenly worried as she was pulled into the bathroom.
‘You’ll see,’ Nurse Trainer answered. ‘Now bend down across the toilet.’
Nurse Trainer still had Poppy’s wrist and pulled her down over the toilet bowl as she reached for something behind the door. Poppy had turned back to look, and I saw her expression change from apprehension to serious alarm.
‘No, p-please, not that…’ she stammered as Nurse Trainer drew down a bulbous red object like a hot water bottle, from which a long tube dangled to end in a nozzle.
‘It’s what you deserve, young lady,’ Nurse Trainer said firmly. ‘Gabby, if you would be so kind?’
‘No, please,’ Poppy answered, ‘I hate enemas, I really do…please?’
She’d started to wriggle, but Nurse Trainer altered her grip, taking both Poppy’s wrists firmly in one big hand and forcing her well down over the toilet. Her bottom spread to show off the lips of her sex and the soft dimple of her anus, the little hole already twitching in anticipation. I’d taken the rubber container and twisted open the top to hold it as a grinning Natasha poured in the milk, one bottle, the second, and the third, which Poppy watched in growing alarm.
‘No, please, I can’t take all that!’ she babbled. ‘A little yes, but…’
‘Quiet,’ Nurse Trainer ordered, ‘what a fuss over a little enema, and you know it’s good for you. Besides, there is no more than perhaps two pints of fluid…’
‘Two pints! I only ever get one…’
‘Then you should learn to take more, and also to consider the consequences of your actions, which you may now think on as you take your enema. The reservoir please, Gabby.’
I passed it to her and she calmly hooked it up on the shower rail. It was bulging, nearly full, with at least a litre of milk in it. Poppy looked back, almost panicking as she saw how much was going up her bottom, and she began to writhe and squirm in the nurse’s grip. It did her no good. The nozzle was pushed in between her wriggling cheeks and up her bottom. She gave a little gasp of consternation and tried to rise, but she wasn’t allowed to. Nurse Trainer held her down, bottom stuck out towards us, and reached up to switch on the valve to control the flow.
Poppy gave a last despairing moan as the milk began to flow up her bottom. Nurse Trainer planted a single, gentle slap on one big, quivering cheek, then took hold of the nozzle, holding it firmly in place in Poppy’s anus as the enema was administered. In no time Poppy’s breathing had begun to quicken, and I could see her belly twitching to the feel of the cool milk in her rectum. Before long she was panting, then gasping as her belly began to swell out beneath her to the pressure. Nurse Trainer paid no attention, holding the nozzle firmly in place, embedded in Poppy’s pulsing anus, until at last the little ring began to dribble fluid down over the milk-smeared vulva. Suddenly, Poppy began to hop up and down on her toes, and to speak.
‘That’s all, stop,’ she babbled. ‘Stop, nurse, please…I can’t take any more. I can’t. It’s going to happen, nurse, it is…it’s going to happen!’
‘Nonsense,’ Nurse Trainer answered her.
‘It is, I mean it!’ Poppy squealed. ‘Ow! Please!’
Poppy’s anus had begun to bulge with the pressure in her rectum, and dirty milk was coming out in little spurts from the wet pink hole. She was clenching, struggling to hold it back, which I knew would only cause pain.
‘Hold still!’ Nurse Trainer snapped.
‘I can’t!’ Poppy wailed. ‘It’s coming! I can’t hold…’
She screamed, even as milk exploded out around the nozzle in her bottom-hole, splashing over the nurse’s hand. Nurse Trainer let go of Poppy’s wrists and pulled the nozzle free, but too late. Even as Poppy scrabbled desperately to get the toilet seat up, her enema erupted from her bottom, spurting out behind her to splash into the shower cubicle, on to the floor and down over her sex. Her scream of despair broke off to a sigh as she soiled herself and, with that, she just gave in. Slumping down over the toilet seat, legs wide, she let it all out, spurt after spurt of dirty milk, her anus pulsing and twitching between eruptions, one of the muscles in her leg jumping in reaction. Soon she was kneeling in a puddle of mess but, rather than finish or acknowledge the state she was in, she began to masturbate, rubbing at her wet, milky pussy. Fluid was still coming from her bottom-hole in spurts and trickles, but she took no notice, her eyes closed, her fingers busy between the plump folds of her pussy. The three of us watched, silent, as she brought herself to climax over what had been done to her, coming with a long moan and a cry of rapture.
‘Filthy!’ Nurse Trainer told her when it had finished. ‘You’re a disgrace. Now you can clean that up, and put your soiled clothes in the wash. You can go naked from now on.’
‘Yes, nurse,’ Poppy answered, and pulled herself slowly to her knees.
‘Now for the other one,’ Nurse Trainer declared, turning on Natasha. ‘Back into the playroom, my girl.’
We followed, leaving Poppy to mop up her mess on her own. In the playroom, the top of the changing table was covered in milk, which Nurse Trainer dealt with in a typically thorough manner.
‘Off with your vest,’ she snapped at Natasha. ‘Mop up this mess.’
Natasha made a face but pulled her vest up and off, to go naked. It was already wet with milk and failed to absorb much, leaving the top with an even smear of milk rather than pools. Nurse Trainer seemed indifferent.
‘Now, Natasha, up on the changing station.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Natasha asked, starting to climb up.
‘I’m going to give you an injection,’ Nurse Trainer answered.
‘An injection?’
‘Yes. In your bottom. Don’t worry, it’s a new, sterile needle, and just distilled water. Quite harmless, but I find it a very effective punishment.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Now, come on, no nonsense. Roll over, and let’s have that
little round bottom showing. It won’t hurt a bit, and if you don’t do as you’re told it’ll be spankies time. Then you’ll be sorry, and you’ll get your injection just the same, only with a hot red bottom to go with it.’
Natasha made a choking sound in her throat, but rolled over to show her bare bottom, flushed and beautiful, also quivering slightly in her fear. She was looking back as the nurse delved into her bag to pull out a packaged syringe, then a needle.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Natasha managed and hid her face in her hands.
I watched, very, very glad it wasn’t me as the nurse carefully pulled on rubber gloves and extracted first the syringe, then the needle. With the needle on, she took up a vial of distilled water, puncturing it to draw the contents down into the syringe. Natasha kept her face in her hands throughout, shivering, to keep her bottom quivering.
As Nurse Trainer expelled a tiny spurt of fluid from the upheld syringe, Poppy came in, naked, her face set in utter consternation, only to change to a smile as she saw what was about to be done to Natasha. She joined me, linking arms, to press her flesh to mine. Natasha was shaking and suddenly put her hands back to cover her bottom. Nurse Trainer removed them gently, but they went back an instant later.
‘Any more of that, Natasha, and I’m going to have to tie your hands and you’ll be spanked. You won’t be warned again.’
Very slowly, Natasha took her hands away from her bottom to leave the twin cheeks bare and vulnerable, trembling hard in her fear. Nurse Trainer came close to lay a hand gently on one bulging, girlish cheek. Natasha gave a sob, shaking her head, as Nurse Trainer took an ample pinch of soft flesh, making it push up between finger and thumb. The syringe was brought down; the needle touched Natasha’s bottom-flesh, and pressed home. I actually saw Natasha’s skin push in and break, the needle sliding into the soft flesh even as a choking sob broke from her lips.
Nurse Trainer altered her grip on the syringe to push home the plunger and draw a hiss from Natasha as the water was forced into her body. Done, the nurse eased the needle free to leave a single, tiny drop of blood welling from Natasha’s punctured bottom. That was all, but it left Natasha shaking with emotion.
She got up slowly, lifting herself on her hands before swinging one leg down from the table, then the other. As she went to inspect her bottom in the mirror she was shaking. For a moment she stood, craning back to watch as the bead of blood ran slowly down over the smooth, flushed skin of her bottom. Then, without a word, she walked to the climbing frame, her legs planted apart, her bottom stuck out as she took a firm grip on the upper bars. She looked back, eyes wide among the tumble of damp curls framing her face.
I came close, sure what she wanted. Taking her in my arms, I slid my fingers down her belly to the wet folds of her sex, burrowing in. She sighed, pushing out her bottom. I slapped her gently, and again as I began to masturbate her.
‘Harder, really smack me,’ she demanded.
‘I will,’ Nurse Trainer announced. ‘Keep her warm.’
I began to spank, smacking at Natasha’s cheeks as I rubbed her. Poppy came close to take hold of Natasha’s breasts, kissing and stroking them. I could feel the reaction, Natasha’s muscles already twitching, her breathing deep and even.
Nurse Trainer had gone to the chest, delving inside to pull out a wooden paddle, a good foot long, wide and at least half an inch thick. It made me wince just to look at it but Natasha stuck out her bottom, all eagerness. I stopped spanking and pulled back my hand to give the nurse a clear shot as she stepped towards us. The paddle came up and down to land with a meaty smack on the offered bottom.
Natasha cried out but kept her grip on the frame. I tightened mine, as did Poppy, holding Natasha in place as the beating began, the paddle smacking down with firm, regular swats. I could feel the smacks going through Natasha’s body and the way the muscles of her sex twitched to each. She was wriggling, shaking her head to the pain, but made no effort to stop it, keeping her bottom out as we masturbated her and she was beaten.
Her orgasm came suddenly, a cry of ecstasy and a violent contraction of her muscles, repeated as the paddle smacked down, harder still, and harder, to match the scream of her climax as it all came together. Instantly she jumped away, but the nurse had already stopped, and watched with a pleased smile as Natasha sagged slowly down into our arms.
I held her until she had stopped shaking and could pull herself up. She was still breathing heavily and her bottom was a mass of bruises, but she was giggling as she inspected the damage and flaunted it happily to the rest of us.
I would happily have continued to play, maybe just curled up in the cot in nothing but a nappy. The others seemed satisfied and happy to call it a day, including Nurse Trainer. I went with the majority decision, helping to tidy up before washing and dressing in normal clothes. The formality of our arrangement had been abandoned, and the four of us spent the next three hours in Nurse Trainer’s living room, drinking tea and talking, as if nothing out of the ordinary had passed between us.
Her story was interesting, the mundane covering the strange in a way so typical of human psychology. Her real name was Rose and she had married young, to an older businessman who had expected to be treated as a baby after work. She had complied, reluctantly at first, but with greater enthusiasm as she discovered the benefits of her husband’s sexual submission.
The marriage had turned sour, for other reasons, and they had eventually divorced, leaving her with the house but no realistic means of supporting herself. Without work experience or qualifications, she had been faced with the prospect of hard work for very little pay, or exploiting her skill as a nurse for grown-up babies. It had not been a difficult choice and she had managed to get a worthwhile clientele together within a year, largely thanks to the Internet. She had often considered the idea of sharing her fantasy with other women, but we were the first, and her sex with me an expression of a long-held fantasy.
We drove back in seriously high spirits, their sheer elation quickly overcoming my residual sulkiness over having my bottom smacked and my anus stretched. We ate at a French café off Sloane Square, salads of langoustine and goat’s cheese washed down with a delicious pale wine selected by Natasha. By the end I was pleasantly drunk, and tired, but no more so than either of them. Abandoning the car, we made for my flat, walking arm in arm, with an unspoken agreement that they’d both be staying. It was close to midnight by the time we got in, and I was dropping. So were they and we ended up going to bed, all three together, cuddled up but too exhausted for sex.
Six
Sunday morning was very easy. Natasha had to deal with the car, but Poppy and I stayed at the flat, talking over toast and coffee in bed. She had seen my clinic and I explained my system of therapy to her. Slightly to my surprise, she had heard of Carl Rogers and was familiar with his ideas on the patient’s wellbeing as central to therapy. That gave us plenty to discuss and created a new intimacy between us, so that before long she had begun to open up about her own relationship. It was apparently not going too well, after nearly eight years. Poppy had come to Anna Vale very young, a newly decided lesbian in need of order in her life. At first it had been wonderful, with the combination of authority and discipline exactly what she had felt was missing for her, and little or no male contact. Anna’s obsession with the middle years of the twentieth century had been a piece of eccentric fun, and she had joined in with enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, Poppy had changed over the years and Anna had not. The regime remained rigid, where Poppy would have liked greater flexibility. Nor had Poppy been allowed to explore her increasing sexual dominance, except under Anna’s supervision. There was also Anna’s refusal to accept modern conveniences in the house and their increasing isolation from the outside world. My visit had caused a crisis, Poppy wanting a level of sexual intimacy Anna would not allow, which had sparked what sounded like a straightforward domestic row.
So Poppy had decided to see if I would play on her own terms, although she knew it
would mean a heavy punishment when she got back. She still wanted to restore her relationship with Anna to normal, but felt the caning would be worth it. It was a piece of information which made me determined to give of my best before she left. She had contacted Penny Birch, and so Natasha, who had more or less taken things over in typical fashion. I knew the rest.
It was nearly noon by the time Natasha got back, and she had obviously been home because she had changed. She was as vivacious as ever and had barely stepped through the door before she took Poppy aside for a whispered conversation in my kitchen. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed likely to involve me and some sort of sexual indulgence – which was worrying, as I knew Natasha’s tastes and they seemed to fit well with Poppy’s.
I was half expecting to be jumped when they called me into the kitchen, but they were simply unloading the various bags Natasha had brought back with her, which contained nothing more suspicious than lunch. I began to help, feeling both relief and a touch of disappointment. Always fanatical about her food, Natasha had bought French bread, Channel Islands butter, a Munster and an Ami de Chambertin, York ham carved from the bone, salad ingredients, a dressing of Sauternes vinegar and fine olive oil with black pepper, and three bottles of Alsace, one already chilled. It was more or less what I’d have expected of Natasha, but Poppy was highly impressed and slightly doubtful, being used to Anna Vale’s fanatically English approach to cooking.
We took two hours over lunch, and the food was spread out on a table so that we could choose what we liked. All three bottles were drunk, to leave me in a pleasant haze and wondering idly about an afternoon of gentle, lazy sex. Unfortunately neither of them seemed interested, drinking and laughing together as they finished the meal, then simply chatting as we allowed it to go down. Before long I was half asleep, and it came as a shock when Natasha suddenly stood up and came to stand over me.