by Неизвестный
‘O! O!!’ Jess moaned. ‘It’s so nice. Who needs men, when we girlies can have such lovely fun together? Jerks, the lot of them, only fit for having their bums whipped and squirming with the spuling tube in their holes. How I love the wet slap of a cane on a male’s bare croup! Don’t you love to spank boys, Prue? You must have done, a bit. And that is why we are all here, really, isn’t it? Because we love nurse’s discipline, the harder the better.’
Prue lied cautiously that she had never spanked a boy before, but said that the idea did excite her. She asked what a spuling tube was, and learned that it was the same as an irrigation – the Mistress loved German hygiene, with all these fearfully scientific names, and Spültherapie was one of her favourites.
‘You will make a very thoughtful nurse, Prue sweet,’ Jess purred. ‘The teats are so sensitive, in every way. To kisses and strokes … and when it’s done right, a teat-whipping under the lyre is pure beauty. How I long to feel it myself! Now let’s have a taste on my thighs and my gash, and don’t forget my bum. You know, when you pass the test for level three, you are permitted to take vinegar baths, like the subjects. Balsamic vinegar is wonderful for cleansing and toughening the skin. I’ve had one – sneaked in after Mrs Shapiro had hers, and had a whole half-hour before I was caught. Got thirty with the cane for that! – balsamic vinegar is costly, and supposed to be reused for the next subject, you see. But it was worth it, my bum hardly felt a thing. And I had my revenge, the next time la Shapiro got a vinegar bath, I had a really big pee in it first! O, yes, that’s good –’ as Prue swished Jess’s thighs and swelling quim-lips.
‘Now for the juiciest bit,’ said Jess, her eyes heavy with pleasure. ‘My bum, please, and make her smart well.’
She turned round and spread her buttocks wide so that her clean-shaven furrow and anus bud were fully exposed.
‘All over,’ she whispered, ‘and hard, nursemaid.’
Prue had lost all pretence at ‘hygienic’ treatment, and began to flog Jess’s naked fesses with all her might. The birch rods, soaked in their sweat, were quite heavy, and dealt a resounding wet slap at each impact on Jess’s trembling bare, which began to crimson very rapidly, the new caress overlaying her older colouring. At each stroke, Jess shivered and gasped, ‘Yes … yes … harder,’ until Prue’s sweat was as much from her flogging exertion as from the sauna. She was scarely surprised to see Jess’s fingers flick down between her open thighs and across her quim, where she quite blatantly began to caress her hard little damsel.
‘You don’t mind me diddling,’ she panted, ‘it’s just that you whip so beautifully, Nurse. We’re not supposed to – hygiene isn’t supposed to be pleasure – but everybody does. It is all hypocrisy … O yes, up there, catch my bumhole, how it stings! Who is to prove we take pleasure? O, lord yes, that’s good, I’m going to spasm … O yes, yes, beat me, Nurse, beat my bum, sweet Prue!’
Prue continued her flogging which was now more than dutiful, as she felt her own quim and belly fluttering in the excitement of the other’s pleasure, and her own fingers found her clit as she watched Jess tremble in her spasm. Panting, Jess sat up and turned to place another kiss on Prue’s gash, this time open-mouthed and with her tongue flicking on Prue’s distended nubbin.
‘Such a big clitty,’ she exclaimed. ‘Do let’s diddle.’
She began to lick Prue’s damsel with rapid and expert flickers of her tongue, sending shudders of pleasure up Prue’s spine. Prue’s fingers now began to rub and tweak her own tingling stiff nipples, and she felt herself close to orgasm. She heard Jess pause to whisper:
‘Northumberland, such a strange place, with all the legends of the sea. Sometimes, at night, you can hear the foghorns calling to ancient drowned ships, like this – it’s called a mermaid’s kiss …’
To Prue’s surprise and pleasure, she began to moan, or chant, softly at first then louder and louder, her open mouth fully cupping the lips of Prue’s quim as the tongue continued its devilish flickering on her stiff clit. The vibrations seemed to shake every atom of Prue’s body, as Jess bellowed with a mournful yet voluptuous sound that was just like a sonorous foghorn! Prue shivered in approaching ecstasy, and as Jess moaned her hymn of worship, she spilt over into a gasping luscious frenzy of orgasm.
No words were necessary; the two women paused to kiss full on the mouth, their wet tongues embracing, and then Jess pushed Prue’s head between her own parted thighs. Prue did not resist, but fastened her mouth on Jess’s quim-lips and with her tongue found the stiff damsel. Flicking against it, and causing Jess to shake with her pleasure, Prue began to moan softly against the swollen quim-lips, filling her lungs and roaring as she felt Jess flutter and moan in her new climax. Prue’s fingers were busy on her own clit, still throbbing and stiff, and as her moans grew to a bellow, and Jess clutched Prue’s hair and pressed her head to her quaking belly, both women climaxed a sweet second time.
Suddenly the door clattered open, and the two shocked tribadists saw, wreathed in steam, the glowering figure of Nurse Heckmondthwaite.
‘This noise!’ she cried. ‘Enough to waken the drowned. Caught in flagrante, you wicked maids! You, Riding – I knew you were a bold one, arriving late. Well, it seems you have more to look forward to in the morning than a mere scratching of four. Four dozen will be more like it.’
‘It was my fault!’ cried Jess. ‘I’ll take the flogging.’
‘Shut up, Nurse Jezebel,’ snapped Nurse Heckmondthwaite. ‘You shall take a flogging, but Miss Riding here shall take the flogging, along with her nursemaid’s irrigation.’
She uncoiled her rubber tube and stroked the bulb insolently under Prue’s trembling chin.
‘And if I’m nice to Matron, I think she will permit me to administer both at the same time.’
‘Redheads!’ whispered Jess. ‘They are all the same. Vitriol is so unhygienic!’ ‘I didn’t know Miss Heckmondthwaite was a redhead,’ said Prue. ‘Her hair is brown, like yours.’
‘Didn’t you see the roots?’ sneered Jess. ‘She’s embarrassed – why, I don’t know, she is just as much of a goop whatever colour her hair is.’
The two nursemaids squatted beside each other in the privy, amidst the bustle of early morning ablutions. The women all wore their nakedness easily, and few bothered even to wear bathrobes for the short walk from bedroom to privy. Some who carried themselves proudly were adorned like Jess: with body piercings, metal armbands on waist, arm, thigh or ankle, variously gorgeous earrings or necklaces, or tattoos on their buttocks, bellies and even breasts.
There was a momentary hush as a new nursemaid entered the privy, and all eyes turned to her. She was nude like the others, but her nudity was so adorned that her body seemed almost clothed. She sauntered amongst her comrades as though inspecting them, and flicking a wet towel playfully at an occasional rump or bosom, which was greeted either by a pleased simper or a sullen scowl. She was dramatically tall, a good six feet in her heels, and her upswept hair was jet black. She was very slim, and her body rippled with lithe muscle, except for her fesses and teats, which actually jutted from her body in a way that looked like a surreal artwork, had it not been for the sensuous quivering of their firm, distended flesh. Alone amongst the nursemaids, she was not barefoot, but wore black shoes with sharp heels and toes, which seemed to be waterproof, of rubber Prue thought.
On her forearms and upper thighs she wore golden bands like an apothecary’s snake, and the same on her left ankle, extending up her calf like a boot. Her extruded belly-button was pierced, and wore a black jewelled brooch, with a little gold tongue and eyes, and this was the head of a tattooed snake which grew across her fount and belly from her wide, thick quim-lips. In the centre of her swelling buttocks, she wore an array of sparkling studs, each one seeming separately pierced, and around them a tattoo which was whorls of stars and moons, growing from the cleft of her furrow and embracing her fesses like a swirl of gold dust. She wore a ring through her quim-lips but, as well as that, they were held apar
t by two clamps attached to tiny gold chains which fastened to the bands on her upper thigh.
Her open quim showed bright glistening pink within, and the effect was not so much shocking as proudly intimidating, as though daring a challenge of some sort. Jess whispered that being ‘tent-pegged’ was a rare privilege: by baring her quim so boldly, she was proclaiming her sovereignty. Chains criss-crossed her belly, leading from her quim ring to her nipples, which seemed very wide, like young apples, and were encased in black metal covers like pointed thimbles. Two further chains looped round her neck from her nipples and supported her conic breasts, although their quivering firmness suggested no need of support. They were duly pert, but at the same time so ripe and heavy that they should hang: but they did not. The waist above a flat belly was a pencil, and her naked flesh showed deep indentations, as though she slept in a corset. Her skin was pearl white, and glowed with fragile translucence that belied the taut frame beneath, and the cruelty of her wide, disdainful lips.
‘That’s Henrietta Farle,’ murmured Jess, ‘she’s third level. She could easily make fourth, and be a Sister Surveillant like Heckmondthwaite, but she prefers to stay here in barracks, as we call it. I think she just likes to lord it over the rest of us scrubbers. She’s so proud of her body, the hag! All the treatment she’s had … she can take the lyre, with those teats.’
Prue asked if all the adornments meant something specific, and was told no, nurses like Henrietta simply enjoyed certain tolerances. As for the lyre – well, Prudence would soon know: it was the most hygienic of treatments, being at once stern discipline and subtle beautification.
‘Watch out for Henrietta, she’s easy with her affections when you least expect, then tight when you want her to be easy. Power like hers is not just rank, it is aura.’
Prue whispered mischievously that she supposed Henrietta had a tent-peg for her bumhole too; then asked Jess if she had ever been in Henrietta’s power. Surprisingly, Jess blushed and looked down.
‘Sometimes … it is hard to resist naked power,’ she whispered, then shivered and shifted on her commode.
As if summoned, Henrietta Farle stalked towards the two squatting nursemaids and glared haughtily down at them through the steam.
‘Well, Jezebel,’ she said, flicking her towel right against Jess’s quim, ‘I hear you have been up to tricks – corrupting a new nurse, and letting her bum smart for your naughtiness. Scarcely ladylike, my dear.’
She peered at Prudence, and then more specifically at her bare breasts, holding her gaze quite impudently on her nipples; Prue suddenly blushed.
‘You’re lucky, nursemaid, that it’s only Heckmondthwaite who’s going to beat you. If it were me … why, you’d be making commode standing up! And you couldn’t bear the touch of your tunic against those teats for quite a while …’
Suddenly she flicked her towel against Prue’s nipples, very sharply. Both nursemaids watched the curl of Henrietta’s ripe bare buttocks as she swaggered away.
‘The vicious bitch!’ Jess swore quietly. ‘I’d like to tan her bum – and that Heckmondthwaite. Each wants Miss Bream and hates the other … intrigues are like that here, Prue. But I promise you’ll always have my affection.’
Solemnly, as though to demonstrate her sincerity, Jess made a great fuss of wiping Prue’s bottom for her, which made them both giggle. Then they showered hot, plunged into the icy pool, and scampered glistening and naked to their rooms to dress. Jess cheered her by saying she would be issued with further clothes in due course, once settled in – ‘they may not pay much, but the kit is quite decent.’
Prue unfolded her new uniform, crisp and clean and starched. She had a white skirt, very short, like Nurse Heckmondthwaite’s, and a pair of dark blue nylons, with matching rubber-soled ‘sensible’ shoes – evidently, the wearing of high heels was for the senior nurses only.
But she was pleased at the frilly blue bra, suspender belt and lacy nylon panties which were flimsy and almost see-through. Her blouse was white nylon, and her blue bra was quite daring and visible through it, as it pressed quite tightly against her breasts. Over that she had a thin blue cardigan which she allowed to hang open. Her ensemble was completed by a pretty blue starched bonnet. Jess said she looked tight, meaning it as a compliment, and said they really were good about kit: if a nurse did well, she could get oodles of nice things, silks and cottons and leather, and even latex, like Heckmondthwaite. Prue laughed, and said she already had such things, quite daring ones too, in her cases, and hoped she would get the chance to wear them. Meanwhile, she said she felt lovely in her tight things, the casing of her uniform like a shell, protecting her and at every move reminding her of her body.
They proceeded to breakfast in the refectory, a large hall with tables seating a dozen nurses at each, and with the meal served from trolleys by ‘skivvies’ as Jess called them: nurses who were purging some imperfection or other with this minor penance. There were perhaps fifty nurses; a dozen of them sat adorned in their fineries at high table above them. Jess said that the High Mistress of Hygiene rarely dined in hall, and in fact rarely appeared at all.
‘What if no one has committed any imperfections?’ asked Prue innocently. ‘Who serves the food then?’
Jess’s only reaction was to laugh and shake her head. They tucked into their breakfast of thin toast and margarine, plentiful tea, salami, and hard-boiled eggs, with pots of acrid rhubarb jam. Prue was assured this was very hygienic. Jess said the piquant salami was reindeer meat, ‘from over there’, gesturing across the North Sea.
‘Much more humane than eating battery-farmed stuff,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘The reindeer gets a jolly good life and plenty of reindeer snogging, before he pops his clogs. Not like our poor pigs and chickens, cooped up and tormented their whole miserable lives, as if they were human beings!’
After the meal, the nurses scurried off to their duties. Prue reported to Miss Bream, for her novices’ examination, along with five other maids for their weekly irrigation.
The Matron was brisk and her smiles were brief as she ordered the nursemaids to strip and fold their uniforms neatly. Miss Bream paid especial attention to the neat removal of the girls’ panties and bras, telling them not to tear them off hurriedly, but to slip them over thigh and breast with ladylike calm and precision. She first complimented Prue on how smart she looked in her new kit, and then Miss Bream unhooked her bra for her, and put her finger into the elastic of her panties, at the cleft of her bottom, to help her draw them down. Miss Bream said that the others should take their irrigations first, under the surveillance of her assistant, Miss Gageby, while she gave Prue her medical. Prue was asked to lie down on a sort of operating table, while in the bathroom she heard whooshes, gurgles and squeals of the girls at lavage. Matron prodded and poked her, inserted her rubber-gloved fingers into every orifice, pressing quite long and hard in her holes to establish that she was ‘vaginally experienced’.
‘But your bum is nice and tight, Prue,’ she said, ‘so I guess you are an anal virgin.’
Before Prue could react, she added that nurses were grown-up maids, and were free to organise their own affairs, as long as they observed hygienic principles. She felt Prue’s breasts, squeezing her nipples quite thoroughly, as though she were a mere subject of scrutiny, to be handled like an animal, or naked slave girl. Miss Bream said that she had lovely firm teats and, with training, she might be privileged to take the lyre. Prue asked what that was, and Matron said it was a device for the enhancement of the breast, which caused considerable discomfort.
‘The principles of the Hydro,’ she said, ‘say that the controlled pain of discipline is the cleanest beauty.’
Then it was time for Prue’s irrigation. She was strapped to a small table which spread her arms and legs wide, with her furrow and buttocks stretched wide on a raised platform. The other nurses, their irrigations complete, were allowed to stand and observe. Matron inserted two rubber tubes into both her holes, and turned on a jet of
hot water whose pressure at the root of her anus made her buck fiercely. This was sucked out, then a new jet entered her hole, now of freezing cold water. As the irrigation went on, she no longer tensed her sphincter muscle in resistance, but relaxed to welcome the spurts which filled her to brimming.
The fillings grew longer and longer, and each time Prue was ordered to hold the liquid inside her before evacuating. She said she felt about to burst, but Matron said that after a while she would get used to it, and even enjoy it, and that she should enjoy, too, the privilege of being bound for treatment. On her nakedness were fastened the eyes of the sullenly beautiful Miss Gageby, who kept brushing an errant lock of hair from her brow as she manipulated the taps. The door opened and Nurse Heckmondthwaite entered, bearing a long knobbly cane with a splayed tip. Miss Bream sighed, and said that they came to the matter of Prudence’s chastisement.
‘It was Nurse Heckmondthwaite who reported your imperfection,’ said Miss Bream, ‘so it shall be she who administers correction. I have determined the sentence, of course, after consultation with the Mistress of Hygiene, who graciously conferred with me on this matter. She thinks it healthy, Prudence, that you should so soon experience public correction of your own person, as a first lesson in the harmony of hygiene and stern discipline, which we ourselves must welcome even as we administer it to our subjects. The sentence, Prudence Riding, is twenty-one strokes of the cane, on bare. Normally, for such an offence, you would be stripped and bridled, and led through Hydro to refectory to bend over the high table. However, as you are a novice, you shall be chastised before these nurses only. Instead of public bridling, I am going to apply an irrigation of chilled oil, and you will please hold it in for the duration of your chastisement.’