Nurse's Orders

by Penny Birch

  ‘Right, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,’ she declared. ‘You’re in trouble.’

  ‘Trouble, why?’ I managed.

  ‘Why?’ She laughed. ‘Why, Miss Gabrielle, is because while you got your pussy frigged yesterday, poor Poppy was given an enema, while I had a needle stuck in my bum and took a hard paddling! That’s why.’

  ‘That wasn’t my fault. It was your own.’

  ‘We don’t care, do we, Poppy?’

  ‘No, we don’t. We’re going to torture the little brat, aren’t we, Tasha?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Poppy was beside me and they grabbed me, wrenching my jacket down over my shoulders to trap my arms. I struggled but I was laughing too much to make any real effort, which encouraged them all the more. They held me, wriggling, while Natasha dug my keys out of my bag and opened the door to my special bedroom. I was dragged in and thrown down on the bed, where Poppy sat on my legs and pinned me down. I could have pushed her off, but I was drunk and giggling, with part of my mind wondering what they were going to do to me and wanting it, despite the sure knowledge that it would be painful. So I stayed down while Natasha searched my room, taking the cord from my robe and pulling the pink ribbon from the neck of my largest teddy bear. I began to struggle again as I realised I was to be tied, but Poppy was heavy and surprisingly strong for her size.

  ‘Sit on her tummy, Poppy, and hold her still,’ Natasha ordered as she came back to us. ‘No struggling, Gabby, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.’

  Poppy moved up the bed, settling her bottom on to my stomach. I tried to push her off, half-seriously, not really wanting to be stripped and tied up, but it did me no good. Poppy held on firmly as my shoes were pulled off. My skirt was unbuttoned and tugged out from under Poppy’s bottom, my tights with it. I tried to kick, but they came down all together, my panties too, peeled off my legs to leave me bare. Briefly, Natasha pulled my ankles apart to show off my sex, before pushing my legs down and sitting on them, clutching hard at my ankles to keep me still. She got the cord around my leg, ignoring my frantic kicking as she tied it off before looping it around the other and forcing them together. I could do nothing, only squirm in futile, giggling remonstration as my ankles were lashed tight together.

  ‘Hold her down while I undo her blouse,’ Natasha said as she gave the knot a final tug.

  She moved quickly and Poppy forced my arms wide, pressing me down on the bed. I fought back, thrashing my body from side to side and arching my back to stop it happening as Natasha fumbled for my buttons. She got them one by one, pulled wide to show off my chest and tummy, and with every bit of exposure I found myself giggling more and struggling less, too far gone to resist. Natasha twitched up with one contemptuous motion, baring my breasts to them.

  I was rolled over, Natasha twisting my feet, forcing me on to my face. I squeaked at the pain, making her laugh, even as Poppy took hold of my blouse and pulled it off. My bra followed after a brief struggle and I was nude, with Natasha sitting on my legs as they grappled for my arms. I could have stopped them, I think, but I didn’t, surrendering to having my arms tied tightly behind my back with the teddy bear ribbon, deliberately high to stop me protecting my bottom.

  They climbed off, panting, and I was left helpless on the bed, stripped and tied, breathing heavily and shivering, half-scared, half-eager to let them take full advantage of my helplessness. Both of them were a little out of breath, but they were grinning and thoroughly pleased with themselves.

  ‘And her glasses, I think,’ Natasha said, reaching down.

  ‘No,’ I answered her, ‘not my glasses. I hate not being able to see properly…No! Natasha!’

  She had pulled my glasses off, leaving my vision a blur, with the two of them visible only as darker shapes against the general pink of my room.

  ‘This is not fair!’ I wailed.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be fair, Gabby, darling,’ Natasha answered me. ‘It just has to be fun. Anyway, it’s for your own good. They might get broken.’

  ‘Broken? What are you going to do to me?’ I demanded.

  ‘Just what was done to us,’ Poppy answered. ‘Well, a little more, maybe.’

  ‘That is hardly fair!’

  ‘Like we said, it doesn’t have to be fair.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Natasha agreed. ‘Right, sit on her, Poppy.’

  Poppy climbed back on to me, straddling my back to press me down into the bed. Her hands found my bottom, gently kneading my cheeks and pulling them wide to show off the hole.

  ‘What a pretty bottom, she has, so small and tight. A shame to spoil it, really.’

  ‘We’re not going to spoil it. Well, not for long, anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean, spoil it?’ I demanded. ‘You’re not going to spank me again, are you? You know how I hate it, and I really don’t want any more bruises!’

  ‘No spanking, I promise,’ she answered. ‘Bruises…maybe.’

  ‘What are you going to do, then?’

  ‘This.’

  She had been burrowing in her bag as she spoke, and with the last word she pulled something out. I could barely see it, only two vague shapes, one pale brown, the other a brilliant viridian green, along with a glint.

  ‘Injection first,’ Natasha said. ‘Now you can learn how it feels, seeing as how you thought it was so funny when it was done to me.’

  ‘I did not!’ I wailed. ‘What do you mean “injection” anyway? What is that thing?’

  ‘A hat pin,’ she said casually. ‘Here, look.’

  She tugged at the thing in her hand and held it to close to my face. To my horror I saw that she was telling the truth. The green thing was a fat, ornamental pin head, holding a shaft of bright steel about ten centimetres long.

  ‘No, you wouldn’t!’ I managed, with a knot of pure panic starting in my stomach. ‘You wouldn’t! Please, no!’

  She just laughed and threw one leg across me to seat herself on the backs of my knees. I tried to struggle, writhing underneath them, with the bubble of pure panic growing in my throat until I thought I was going to scream.

  ‘Now, now, no need to get in a state,’ Natasha soothed, stroking my bottom one-handed. ‘We’re only teasing. We wouldn’t really puncture your pretty bottom, would we, Poppy?’

  A great wave of relief flooded through me at her words. My emotions came out in a long sigh, only for it to turn to a scream of pain as the pin was driven into my flesh without the slightest warning. Behind me, Natasha laughed, a truly evil cackle, Poppy giggling in time. They left it in, sticking up out of my bottom-cheek.

  ‘Oh, you are funny, Gabby!’ Natasha crowed when she’d got control of herself. ‘And you do look good with the pin sticking up out of your cheek. Sorry, but I’ve got to do it again. Several times, actually.’

  ‘No, please,’ I managed. ‘This is really unfair. Please stop it. It hurts!’

  ‘Does she mean it?’ Poppy asked suddenly.

  ‘Not really,’ Natasha answered, easing the pin from my bottom to draw a fresh gasp from me. I felt a fresh surge of panic hit me.

  ‘She’s just a bit of a cry-baby,’ Natasha went on, ‘and she’s got a stop word, anyway.’

  ‘Good,’ Poppy said. ‘Give her another, then.’

  I tried to speak, but all that came out was a fresh scream as the needle was driven into my other bottom-cheek, deep, to leave me panting and twitching in reaction. I was trying to remember the stop word, but I was in such a state that I couldn’t think of it, or anything but the awful prospect of having the pin driven into my bottom again. Finally I got myself under control.

  ‘I mean it, really,’ I babbled. ‘Stop, please…please, Natasha, no more.’

  ‘You’d almost think she meant it, wouldn’t you?’ Natasha said, drawing the pin slowly out of my flesh once more.

  ‘I do!’ I wailed. ‘Stop, please, stop!’

  I felt the wet on my skin as my blood beaded from the new hole. Both stung, an awful itching feeling, along with a dull ache at
the crest of each buttock, around where the pin had been driven home.

  ‘Once more?’ Natasha said. ‘Under her tuck, maybe, where it’s nice and plump.’

  ‘No, please!’ I wailed. ‘Mercy…No, I mean…What was it?’

  ‘You know very well, little slut,’ Poppy said. ‘Yes, under her tuck, but don’t hurry, and it’s important that she should know how many times it’s going to happen. Shall we say six more?’

  ‘Six!’ I wailed. ‘No! Please!’

  ‘Twelve, then, if six isn’t enough for you.’

  ‘No, please, girls, please…I can’t…really…’

  ‘Shut up!’ Natasha ordered, ‘or we’ll tape your mouth shut and give you double. Here goes, then.’

  I screamed again as the long pin sank into my bottom, deep under one cheek, to leave me gasping and writhing on the bed, panicking, my body beading with sweat and the tears welling in my eyes, as much from sheer, awful frustration as pain.

  ‘I love the way her muscles jump when it goes in,’ Natasha remarked. ‘Do you want to do her other tuck?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Poppy answered.

  I was beyond speaking and could only lie there, shaking my head, my whole body trembling in reaction to what was being done to me. Poppy took the head of the pin, and I felt it drawn slowly from my body, only to touch again under my other cheek, making my muscles twitch. She giggled, bent down so that she could see properly, and pushed.

  I actually felt my skin break and the steel shaft push into my flesh, even as I screamed. I was dizzy with pain, the muscles of my tummy and bottom twitching frantically, close to hysterics, blind with gathering tears, beyond which I could see nothing but a blur of pink and, where the Valentine teddy bear I’d propped by my pillow was clutching a satin heart, red.

  ‘Red!’ I screamed. ‘Red, red, red…I mean it, I do! Red!’

  ‘Ah,’ Natasha answered me casually. ‘Are you sure? I was enjoying that.’

  ‘I’m sure, really,’ I babbled. ‘Just stop it, please, pretty please, anything, but not this, no more…’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ she said, ‘but you’re such a baby.’

  I felt her take the pin and pull it slowly free. It stung and again I felt the wet of my own blood as the bead formed and broke to trickle down into the groove beneath my bottom. I was still panting, and the knot of fear and panic was still tight in my stomach, but easing slowly as I sank down, limp beneath them.

  ‘I think she’s quite brave to take four really,’ Poppy said from above me. ‘Aren’t you, Gabby darling?’

  I couldn’t respond, my emotions too strong to find an answer. I didn’t know if I hated them or was desperately and urgently in love with them. I was in pain, but was enervated too, trembling with need and filled with the delicious sense of being out of my own control. It still hurt too. My bottom felt swollen and hot, each prick an individual point of fire, stinging so fiercely my muscles were still jumping. I could feel the bruising too, dull and throbbing, adding to the sensation of my bottom being the absolutely centre of my body. I wanted to curse them, but if they’d decided to masturbate me I’d have done nothing to stop them, and I knew what would have been in my mind as I came.

  ‘I suppose we’d better clean her up,’ Natasha said. ‘There’ll be rubbing alcohol in her cupboard.’

  She climbed off, and I pushed up my bottom, grateful for being able to move and keen to stretch my skin. Poppy gave me a playful slap and began to touch me, stroking my bottom between the four puncture marks and between my cheeks. I was wondering if she was going to bring me off, but she stopped as Natasha returned to bounce down on the bed. A moment later I caught the smell of the alcohol, then felt the soft wetness of the cotton wool as it was pressed to my injured bottom. It stung and I gasped at the sudden, sharp pain, but held still, letting her clean me properly. She did each cut carefully, ignoring my gasps and winces as Poppy applied sticking plaster to each in turn, not single pieces, but crosses, like something out of a cartoon, making Natasha giggle. With all four punctures done, they sat back.

  ‘Cute.’ Natasha laughed, and slapped my bottom. ‘Oh, you should see yourself, Gabrielle, what a sorry sight!’

  ‘You can…you can make me come if you want to,’ I managed.

  ‘Oh, no, not yet,’ she answered. ‘You’re forgetting what happened to Poppy.’

  ‘If you must, then.’

  ‘Has she got enema equipment?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Loads,’ Natasha assured her. ‘She uses colonic irrigation as a therapy, but I had something a bit different in mind. Come here.’

  She got up, motioning to Poppy, who followed her from the room. I lay still, too overcome to even think of resisting, and bound too tightly anyway. All I could think of was that if they were going to give me an enema, they needed to get me into the bathroom. They were whispering and I heard Poppy giggle, but it was impossible to make out their words. Before long they came back.

  ‘You’ll love this!’ Poppy assured me.

  I managed a weak nod and a smile, hoping she was right.

  ‘Now,’ Natasha said, sitting down beside me, ‘you’re going to help us, aren’t you, Gabby, or do we have to use the needle again?’

  ‘I’ll help,’ I promised quickly.

  ‘Good girl, very sensible,’ she answered, with a pat on my bottom. ‘Now, we need a nozzle of some sort, wide, to get her bumhole nice and open, and some good thick material. Come on, Gabby, any suggestions?’

  ‘There are some cake decorators in the kitchen,’ I said miserably. ‘A linen bag too.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad you’re being so co-operative. Sit on her, Poppy, make sure she doesn’t get away.’

  She had risen as she spoke and left the room. A moment later her voice came from the kitchen, deliberately raised as she investigated the contents of my cupboards and fridge.

  ‘Let’s see, what’s she got? Hmm, eggs, always fun, and tomatoes…That would make a nice mixture in her face and hair, wouldn’t it, Poppy? We need butter, of course, to grease her bumhole…Hang on, I’ve got it, perfect!’

  ‘What?’ I demanded.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  There was a dull thump and the click of a drawer being opened, then another. She began to hum a pop tune happily, and came back into the bedroom a moment later holding my large mixing bowl. There were things in it, but all I could make out were shapes and colours. Poppy giggled and climbed off me as Natasha put the bowl on the floor.

  ‘What are you making?’ I demanded as Natasha poured out what looked like a whole packet of flour into the bowl.

  ‘Cake mix, chocolate cake mix,’ she said happily. ‘You can do the eggs, Poppy; use them all.’

  ‘No, please, not up my bum,’ I begged, ‘or, if you really have to, in the bathroom.’

  ‘Do stop whining,’ she said. ‘One more word and we’ll make you eat it afterwards, and I mean that.’

  I went quiet, to lie shivering on the bed, trying to watch as they worked. Natasha stirred as Poppy broke the eggs in, all six, then added chocolate flakes, and butter, making a thick brown paste that filled half the huge bowl and must have weighed over a kilogram. All the time I was thinking how it was going to feel up my bottom and about the mess it would make, feeling bullied and sorry for myself despite an undeniable arousal.

  It took Natasha ages to get the mixture even, by which time Poppy had assembled the cake icer with the thickest nozzle in place. When it was finally ready, she held the bag wide as Natasha scooped in the thick, brown mess, leaving the bag so full she had difficulty tying the ends off. They were giggling crazily as they stood up, Poppy holding the great sagging bag in both hands, and it still hung over at the sides, with the nozzle hanging down at the front like some huge, flaccid cock.

  ‘Up on your knees,’ Natasha ordered. ‘Stick it out and remember, any nonsense, any nonsense at all, and you know what happens.’

  I tried to rise, struggling to get my knees under me and lift my bottom as I’d been ordered
. It wasn’t easy and my efforts made them laugh, but I managed, kneeling with my knees as far apart as my tightly bound ankles would permit and my bottom cocked up towards them, open and vulnerable.

  ‘Grease her up, then,’ Poppy said.

  ‘Sure,’ Natasha answered. ‘Oh, shit, we shouldn’t have used all the butter. No, there’s enough on the paper, I think.’

  I couldn’t see, but a moment later I felt the cold, greasy surface of the butter wrapper pressed between my bottom-cheeks, wiping, as if she was cleaning me. Butter smeared out over my anus and around it too, cool, then moist as it began to melt to my body heat.

  ‘That should do,’ Natasha announced as she peeled the wrapper away. ‘Right, Gabby, let’s get you open.’

  My only answer was a tiny sob as her finger found my anus. I felt the butter smeared over my ring, and a little hard piece pushed up the hole, then her finger easing into me and up to wiggle in my rectum as Poppy giggled to see me penetrated.

  ‘She has a neat little bumhole, doesn’t she?’ Poppy remarked.

  ‘She powders it every night,’ Natasha replied, ‘and creams the hole. It seems to keep her nice and tight. Let’s see if I can get a second finger in.’

  ‘Ow!’ I protested as she suited action to word, forcing another finger into my reluctant anus.

  ‘Ever so tight,’ she said. ‘Springy, like a little fat rubber band.’

  Poppy giggled as Natasha splayed her fingers, stretching my anus wide to make me gasp. For a moment she held me, gaping, before closing her fingers and sliding deep in.

  ‘Plenty of room inside,’ she said. ‘Come on, up it goes, then.’

  Her fingers came out, leaving my bottom-hole to close slowly and push out a trickle of warm butter, which I could feel as it ran down into my vagina. Poppy’s fist touched between my bottom-cheeks, then the cold metal, right on my hole, slimy with butter, pushing in, opening me, until I began to spread around it. It was thick and I tried to relax, taking as much as I could, but she kept pushing until my anal ring began to strain.

  ‘Stop!’ I begged. ‘That’s all I can take.’