Doctor's Orders

by Deanna Ashford

  Helen shivered as he leaned forwards, spreading lubricating jelly around her vagina and down the valley of her sex. He eased the first ball inside her, followed by the second and third in quick succession. Helen gave a soft moan as she felt the unaccustomed weight lodged high inside her body. The cold hardness of them, coupled with their weight, added to her arousal. She tensed her pelvic muscles, surprised by the strong ripple of erotic delight that filled her sex.

  ‘They feel strange.’ She tensed again, savouring the alien feel of the objects.

  ‘But so good,’ Max purred, stroking and caressing her open quim, further stimulating her heightened senses. His lubricated fingers drifted downwards, teasing the tight circle of muscle guarding her anus. Helen took an unsteady breath as he continued to gently caress the rosy ring until it began to relax.

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped, surprised at how good it felt as he slid a fingertip inside the virginal opening. She was filled with the sudden urge to bear down against the invading digit. Helen fought the need, her thighs trembling, and the heavy balls in her vagina rolled together, sending a surge of blissful pleasure through her entire sex.

  ‘You like that, don’t you?’ Max crooned, pulling apart her arse cheeks, and gently rubbing the head of his penis against the previously unexplored opening.

  Helen tensed, feeling fearful yet also excited. She had fantasised about this moment, wanting to try the unknown but something had always held her back. Now Max was about to fulfil one of her darkest and most unspoken desires. She tensed unconsciously as he paused to slip on a condom, then tenderly eased his huge cock-head inside the tight ring of muscle. The unfamiliar sensations were strange, breathlessly uncomfortable, yet also supremely arousing. As his hot hardness slid deeper into her forbidden depths, she groaned with painful pleasure, her nerve endings stimulated to fever pitch by the double assault on her senses.

  Helen experienced such tightness, such bliss, that she felt her body could take no more of this erotic abuse. However, it did, automatically adjusting to the strangely delectable sensations as Max began to move his hips, thrusting deeper. The pleasure was white hot, sharp and so perfect she became conscious of nothing else. She was overwhelmed by its strength as she surrendered to the ever deepening tide of lustful bliss.

  Sandra Pope opened her thighs even wider, her fingers busily stroking her sex, pinching and rolling her clitoris between finger and thumb. She was further inflamed by the sight of the erotic antics in the adjoining room as she felt the electric currents of pleasure flood her, leading her steadily upwards towards her climax.

  Curiosity had prompted Sandra to slip in here, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new senior registrar, but she had never expected to be rewarded by the steamy scene she witnessed from behind the two-way mirror: the titillating vision of the gorgeous Max Fenton arse-fucking the latest hospital recruit.

  Sandra wished it was her tied down on that bed, forced to submit to Max’s every brutal whim. She wanted his dick to be powering into the crack of her buttocks. She could imagine how good it would feel – huge, hot and incredibly demanding. Lost in her wild fantasies, she frantically rubbed herself even harder, all the time keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Helen and Max. She gave a soft groan as the sensations peaked, her body shuddering as her orgasm came in a sudden rush of pleasure.

  Leaning back in her chair, she took a deep unsteady breath, allowing herself time to recover. Idly, she envisaged the moment when she and Helen Dawson would meet again. They had been fellow boarders at a private school in Sussex. In their teens they had been close friends for a time. Sandra would never have expected the prim fifteen year old, who’d always claimed to dislike boys, to turn into this uninhibited, sexy woman. Most of the youths they had met at the time thought Helen frigid. She had never let any of them kiss her, let alone persuade her to open her tightly closed thighs.

  Time was a great leveller, Sandra thought, as she pulled down the skirt of the smart blue dress. Helen had changed a lot in the intervening years, and she might well prove to be a very useful addition to the hospital staff.

  Sandra moved to the wash-basin, scrubbed her hands, then readjusted her white frilly cap. All the nursing staff at the Princess Beatrice wore old-fashioned uniforms; dresses, starched aprons, frilly caps, and black seamed stockings.

  Sandra was senior nursing officer, or matron, as she liked to be known. She relished the power and kudos that came with the position. It would be nice to feel on the same par as Helen for once. At school Sandra had always thought herself academically inferior to her friend. Helen had always been the pretty, clever one; the girl voted most likely to succeed.

  Quietly she left the observation room. When the architect had first suggested this hidden observation room, Sandra had thought it rather a waste of space and money. Now, she decided, she could put this place to good use. It would be fun to lure other members of staff into the maternity unit and spy on their sexual antics.

  Walking briskly along the wide corridors, Sandra made her way to the nurse’s station on the second floor of the West Wing. Most of the really expensive private suites were situated here. One in particular was currently occupied by the famous movie director, Christopher Skinner. Sandra made a point of visiting him regularly, at least twice a day. There were certain things she did for him that nobody else could. Mr Skinner had mild diabetes, but it was easily controlled by pills and the proper diet. However, the strains of his job – the snatched meals, location work and long hours – meant he often felt under the weather after he had finished a movie. Then he came to the Princess Beatrice, ostensibly to rest and ensure his condition was stabilised, but mainly to avail himself of the services of his friend, Sandra Pope.

  ‘I left the trolley inside, ready,’ Nurse Cowan said as Sandra approached.

  ‘Thanks.’ Sandra stepped inside Mr Skinner’s room, closing the door behind her, knowing that she would not be disturbed. The last nurse who had intruded on her sessions with Christopher had been forced, by her, to resign the following day. Sandra now carefully vetted all nursing staff due to be assigned to the West Wing, ensuring they were all of like mind to her. Otherwise it would be impossible for the hospital to live up to the reputation of catering for every whim of its wealthy patients.

  Christopher Skinner was lying on his bed, his eyes closed, as though asleep. He was a middle-aged, slightly portly man; not unattractive to a woman who knew just how rich and influential he was in the movie business. Over the last couple of years, since he’d been coming here, Sandra had grown fond of him. She sometimes wondered if their association might eventually grow into something more positive and enduring. Christopher knew he could rely on her discretion – she never spoke of her patients differing needs to anyone outside the hospital.

  ‘I hear you’ve been a naughty boy, Christopher,’ Sandra said curtly.

  The patient opened his eyes and nodded. ‘Yes, matron, I have,’ he admitted, grinning like a naughty schoolboy.

  ‘You know that you have to be punished if you don’t behave?’ Sandra continued in the cold officious tone Christopher loved.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, with an excited shiver.

  Sandra pulled on a pair of thin surgical gloves with a decisive snap, then jerked back the bedcovers. ‘Very naughty, it seems,’ she added, staring at the very visible bulge in his pyjama bottoms. She pulled open his flies to reveal his already enlarged penis, which stiffened even more as she stared down at it, her lip curling in disgust. ‘Have you been masturbating again,’ she challenged.

  Christopher flushed, his breathing quickening as Sandra ran her rubber-gloved fingers down the side of his cock shaft. ‘I only touched it for a moment,’ he admitted nervously.

  ‘You know that I told you to do no such thing.’ Sandra gave the organ a gentle slap.

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ he gabbled staring up at her. ‘I try to do what you tell me, matron. Really I do.’

  ‘Not hard enough it seems,’ Sandra said sternly. ‘Punishment is the
only way you’ll learn, isn’t it Christopher?’ She slapped his penis again, this time much harder and it twitched excitedly and stiffened even more.

  ‘Yes, matron,’ he agreed with a cautious smile.

  ‘Pull down those pyjamas and turn over,’ she ordered curtly.

  Obediently Christopher pulled down his pyjama bottoms and turned over, exposing his hairy butt to her gaze. Sandra ran her fingers over the round cheeks, squeezing the flesh between her rubber-gloved fingers and Christopher gave a soft moan of excited anticipation, knowing exactly what was coming next.

  ‘Keep still.’ She slapped his buttocks hard with the flat of her hand. Christopher pushed his belly down against the tightly stretched white sheets and gave a soft grunt. ‘And keep quiet, no noise at all,’ Sandra added, slapping him again.

  She began to inflict his punishment, spanking him soundly, every hard slap making a satisfying crack as her rubber-gloved palm made contact with his quivering buttocks. After a few moments of this abuse, his skin began to turn a fiery red, her hand-prints standing out boldly against his pale flesh. Christopher gave a soft whimper, and unconsciously began rubbing his fat dick against the mattress beneath him.

  ‘Don’t move again,’ Sandra hissed through gritted teeth, hitting him so hard this time that it made her wrist ache. ‘Otherwise I might change my mind and decide not to come and see you again later tonight.’

  He froze, clutching at the sides of the bed, fighting to stay still and do as he was told.

  Sandra continued the brutal spanking until Christopher’s entire buttocks were stained a deep ruby red, and he could no longer repress his agitated movements or his unconscious moans of pleasure. She smiled, savouring the sensual warmth growing deep in the pit of her belly. She was aroused just by the sight of him squirming helplessly on the bed.

  Sandra had never appreciated her true calling until she came to work at the Princess Beatrice. It had been quite by accident that she had first discovered Christopher’s unusual sexual needs. When she had offered to satisfy them, she had discovered how much she enjoyed dominating a man, inflicting abuse and punishment on her willing charge. As further opportunities had presented themselves, she had learned how to explore every sensual need to its fullest extent. Sandra, however, wasn’t a totally committed dominatrix. Her sexual needs were a contradiction even to her, and recently her friend and hospital colleague, Justin, had shown her how exciting it was to be on the receiving end of such erotic domination.

  In the last two years, since she had become matron, she had concentrated on attracting the right kind of patients to this part of the select establishment. The private suites in the West Wing were now dedicated to becoming a place where the rich and famous could relax and recover from the strains of life, well away from prying eyes – where they could explore every sybaritic pleasure in a discreet, secure environment.

  ‘Now, what do you say, Christopher?’ she prompted.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ came the muffled reply.

  ‘Good boy.’

  She picked up a tube of cream and began to spread a cooling antiseptic ointment over his fiery buttocks. When she had soothed his abused flesh, she concentrated on spreading the cream between his arse cheeks, and around the entrance to his anus. At first he remained silent, but couldn’t repress a gasp of excitement as she eased the tip of one cream-covered finger inside the tight ring. She ventured deeper, until she could apply pressure to a most sensitive spot. Employing her medical knowledge, she carefully massaged the area, knowing that if she continued for too long she would bring him to an abrupt climax.

  Christopher gasped with delight, lifting his hips. ‘Don’t you dare come,’ Sandra hissed deliberately reducing the pressure. ‘If you do, I won’t let you use the plug.’

  He gripped the mattress tightly, pressing his face into the pillow. ‘I’m trying to do as you say, matron, but it’s difficult,’ he replied in a shaky voice, as she slowly withdrew her finger.

  Sandra selected a white plastic anal plug from the ready-prepared trolley. It was the largest of the set Christopher always brought with him. Slowly, and with great precision, she slid the smooth object deep inside his rectum, twisting it gently to increase the sensation of fullness. Grunting with pleasure, Christopher lifted his buttocks up to meet the longed-for intrusion until it was firmly embedded inside him. She lodged the rim of the plug snugly between his arse cheeks. ‘Clench tightly,’ she said tersely. ‘Keep it in position as you turn over.’

  Christopher’s face was flushed, his muscles tense with fevered anticipation as he rolled over. ‘Let me come now,’ he pleaded, glancing down at his distended dick, which looked so red and hard it appeared ready to explode.

  Sandra was sorely tempted to continue their game to its ultimate conclusion. She wanted to come herself, right now, as she was feeling incredibly horny. Determinedly she held back on seeking her own pleasure. That would come later, when she returned to see Christopher tonight. First he had to wait and contain his need for a number of hours – that was a specific part of the punishments he expected and enjoyed.

  There was something extra arousing in forcing someone famous and important, like Christopher, to comply to all her sexual demands. She had the power to reduce him to a quivering wreck if she chose, willing to do anything to obtain his release. She derived great pleasure from the services she offered, and had never sought anything other than simple gratitude from her patients. However, some of them insisted on giving her substantial monetary gifts. She now had a sizeable sum in her off-shore bank account. If she wanted she could retire in a couple of years, but Sandra wasn’t sure she could ever bear to leave this place willingly.

  Lost in thought for a brief moment, she didn’t notice that one of Christopher’s hands had strayed down to his aching prick. ‘No,’ she snapped, just as he took hold of the rigid shaft. ‘If you do that again, I won’t come back tonight.’

  Christopher frowned. ‘I’m – I’m sorry,’ he said hesitantly.

  ‘Behave yourself now and I’ll let you do everything you want later,’ she replied, secretly not wanting to miss out on the pleasures of their evening session.

  ‘You’ll wear the rubber corset under your uniform?’ he asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ she agreed charily. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

  Sandra picked up a pair of black rubber pants, dusted them inside with talcum powder, then slid them over Christopher’s feet, working them slowly up his thighs and over his hips. The tight rubber moulded to his stocky body, compressing his excess flesh. Apart from the waistband and leg holes, there was one other opening in the garment. A small round hole designed to allow Christopher’s cock to protrude through it. The rubber fitted extra snugly around the base of his shaft, ensuring his erection was kept firmly in place and would not diminish as long as he wore the pants.

  ‘It feels good,’ he admitted with a shy smile, and she knew how much he was relishing the combined sensations: the tightly constraining rubber, the compression around the base of his penis and the smooth hardness of the plastic plug filling his arsehole.

  Sandra almost envied his exquisite feelings as she stared thoughtfully at his stubby penis. Red and swollen, it stood rigidly out from the corset of black rubber. ‘If I find you’ve rubbed yourself off before I return . . .’ she warned, tapping his cock-head which quivered excitedly, rampant and hungry for release.

  ‘I won’t, matron,’ Christopher promised, his expression showing how eagerly he envisaged the tortuous hours ahead. ‘Not until you return to me tonight.’

  ‘You’re a good boy.’ She took hold of his left hand, placing it on her leg, beneath her starched skirt. Tentatively he ran his hand upwards, past her stocking tops, to the juncture of her thighs, eager to explore the valley of her sex.

  She knew that the discovery of underwear, which she wore rarely, would disappoint Christopher. ‘Panties,’ he groaned. ‘They’re damp,’ he added, fingering the moist gusset. ‘Have you come already?’

/>   ‘No – it’s all down to what I saw earlier,’ she said teasingly, wanting to arouse his curiosity, as she recalled the enticing sight she’d witnessed between Helen and Max.

  ‘Tell me?’ he begged sliding a finger under the fabric to stroke her moist quim.

  ‘Perhaps later tonight,’ she said forcing herself to pull away from him. ‘I have work to do, Christopher. Now pull up the sheet, and cover yourself, you dirty boy. I’ll return after dinner to check if you’ve been good and kept all your promises to me.’

  ‘Do you like the apartment?’ Max asked as they left her new abode and walked across the old stable-yard back to the hospital. He had helped Helen unpack and settle into the staff flat which had been allocated to her. It was one of half a dozen situated in the stable block, a short distance from the main building.

  ‘Very comfortable,’ she agreed. ‘Especially the bed.’

  ‘Pity we didn’t have more time,’ he said huskily.

  Max had insisted that Helen keep the balls inside her while they made their way to her new apartment. They were heavy, and she’d been forced to concentrate hard to keep them in place. Feeling them roll around inside her as she walked had been wonderfully stimulating, and by the time they reached the privacy of her bedroom, she was desperate for Max. Not surprisingly, they’d had sex again, spending nearly an hour trying out her new four-poster bed.

  ‘I’m going to miss you, Max,’ she admitted, very conscious of the rather pleasant discomfort between the cheeks of her buttocks.

  ‘As you should.’ He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. ‘Initially I should only be in New York about six weeks.’

  ‘Six weeks is a long time.’

  ‘It’ll pass quickly enough. You’ll be busy adjusting to your new position,’ he said, pausing outside the office of the senior nursing officer.

  Helen wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. She had never liked the officious senior nursing officer at her old hospital. This one was bound to be as starchy and middle-aged as all the others she had known. However, she would do her best to get along with the woman, just to make life easier adjusting to this new hospital routine.