Story from Roue 03.
Night duty. Men's Surgical, Sister Evans.
Oh God! P'raps I'll go sick, say I've got the 'flu. She'll know I'm avoiding her. I've got to face it sometime though. But – Oh Hell! I wish I'd never done it! But I had to, didn't I? I don't know, p'raps I didn't have to. P'raps there might have been some other way. Oh Christ! And it was only one bottle. One lousy bottle of pills. And now she's going to –. But I'll have to turn up, no matter what. Because if I don't, p'raps she'll tell Matron, and Matron'll tell the Police –. And I didn't even get the money. That sod didn't pay me. I could kill him. And that Beryl, she's the one who split on me. Oh God! What a bloody awful predicament.
On the ward. Sister Evans with an odd, satisfied kind of smile on her face.
She's going to, I know it! She did it to Allison, and she only nicked some money out of a locker. Oh Lord! I haven't got a hope. And Allison said it was awful. Her poor bottom!
Medication to be given, pillows to be plumped, visitors to be shushed out as soon as decently possible.
And tomorrow's Thursday! Bloody rent day! He'll want his money, haven't paid in three weeks. What the Hell am I going to do?
Tractions to be checked, temperatures, pulses, respirations. And Mr Keller.
Wonder if he'll ask me again? And if he does – wonder if I'll dare? He-he'll give me money, he said so. And he's got money to burn, I should think. So – p'raps he'll ask me, and p'raps I'll say yes – I mean, other girls do it. I know they do. Lucy said she's done it loads of times. She says they're nearly all like that, when they're getting better. And they're all private in this place. None of them short of money. P'raps I could even get enough to start paying it off. Oh Christ, if only I hadn't had to take the bloody money in the first place, then I wouldn't have to pinch the pills and – and...
Bedsores to be massaged and creamed. Bedpans, bedpans, always bloody bedpans –. No. Don't think about bedpans. Bedpans go into the sluice. And that's where Allison got it, in the sluice. That's where –. Stop thinking about the sluice.
'Nurse, my radio's not working!'
What am I, a bloody electrician or something?
Horlicks, Ovaltine, tea, coffee, chocolate.
'Hot milk Mr Keller?'
Smile, girl, smile.
'I fancy something a bit sweeter, darling.'
Smile. I said:
'What's that, Mr Keller?'
If he pinches my bum again, I'll –. No I won't. Smile girl. You need him.
'What colour you got on tonight eh sweetie?'
'Mr White! Don't you ever think of anything else –?'
'Eh? White you say? White knickers, that what you say?'
God, these'll be the death of me. I don't know where they get the urge from at their age. Sister Evans, eyes like a hawk, checking, checking, linen, charts, drugs cupboard. Especially that.
A weird, sinking, hollow feeling in the tummy, knickers feeling tight underneath. Allison said she couldn't sit down after. Well, almost. She said she had to sit on one side first and then the other. And that it was hell if your knickers were too tight, because the elastic in the leg kind of cut up across your bum –. Stop thinking about it, will you!
'Nurse. Would you have a look at my dressing please?'
'Just a moment Mr Keller.'
I bet there's nothing wrong with it.
Screens. The dressing perfectly alright. A ten pound note tucked in a fold of the sheets. Pink glans, glowing hotly, standing up and waiting patiently.
'Mr Keller –!'
'Come on. This is for you, like I said.'
'Here. Take it anyway.'
Cool fingers slipping up under her skirt. The note crinkling and scratching as it tucks down the front of her knickers.
'But I can't –'
' 'Course you can. Look, just like this.'
Hot under her hand. Solid, feeling alive.
'But Sister might see. It – it's dangerous –'
'Come back later then. After the lights go out.'
Sister Evans might be gone then, with two other wards to keep an eye on. Yes, she might be gone long enough.
'Yes, alright. If I can.'
His hand wandering back up between her thighs. His voice a conspiring whisper.
'Take 'em down, eh? There's a good girl.'
'For Christ's sake –'
'How much d'you want then, eh?'
'It's not that –!'
'I'll give you another tenner. Alright?'
'Mr Keller – I... I'll try to come back.'
Her knickers slipping down across her hips.
'I've got to go now.'
The screens whisked away. Hawkeyes prowling. Later. But, later –. Don't think about it!
'All finished, nurse?'
'Y-yes Sister, more or less.'
'You don't sound too sure.'
'Er – well there's just the oxygen to check.'
'Check it then. Then come to my office.'
Christ, these knicks are going to fall down if you don't do something about it. P'raps – p'raps it's an omen. Oh Christ!
A slim hand tapping nervously on a door.
The door closing.
'Now then Elaine. Having cornered you at last, and don't say you haven't been avoiding me because I know you have, you and I are going to settle our differences, are we not?'
'Yes, we are my girl! Firstly you are going to say thank you to me for putting myself at risk by not reporting the shortage in the drugs cupboard, aren't you?'
'Um – y-yes, Sister.'
'Er – th-thank you Sister. Thank you very much.'
'Good. And a little later, you, my girl, are going to be taught a lesson, aren't you?'
'Am I, S-Sister?'
Sister stares with her bright eyes, up and down, up and down.
'Have you ever been caned, nurse?'
Elaine's little hands twist panic-stricken behind her back.
Sister smiles, rather sweetly.
'Well tonight you will be.'
Sister, relishing her power, rolling the words around before she says them.
'Properly caned, young lady. You will be soundly thrashed.'
Oh God! With a cane! Oh Jesus!
'On your bare bottom.'
Bare bottom! Thrashed. Oh Christ!
'Without your knickers.'
Without my knickers! Thrashed! I want to be sick!
'And no matter how you may protest or struggle –'
Struggle – me struggling! And thrashed! I'm going to wet myself!
'I shall whip you thoroughly.'
Whipped – thoroughly! Me, struggling! Screaming, bawling!
'Is that clear?'
Oh God, this is awful! It's going to happen. Really going to.
Sister's voice soft and coaxing. Teasing.
'Do you understand?'
'Oh – yes, S-Sister.'
'And what have you to say?'
She's enjoying this. She's going to love it.
'I d-don't know.'
'Quite! Because there is nothing more to be said, is there, nurse?'
And, of course, there wasn't.
* * * *
Elaine near to panic, her eyes wide and frightened, Sister looking her up and down, a little smite playing at the corners of her mouth. Elaine wondering helplessly if she ought to smile back or something.
'So – I'll see you in the sluice at one o'clock. One o'clock sharp, mind.'
'Yes, S-Sister.' Elaine's heart pounding inside her starched white apron.
'And you won't forget now, will you?'
'Er – n-no, Sister. One o'clock – that's is, isn't it?'
'Aren't you sure, Elaine?'
'Y-yes, one o'clock.'
'Right, one o'clock. And now you can take your knickers off, Elaine.'
'Knickers. Take them off. Are you going deaf, girl?'
Sister looking stern.
Nothing for it. Elaine rucking up her uniform skirt, thighs soft and smooth above her stocking-tops. Knickers tight and curving tantalisingly up across the fullness of each buttock. The ten pound note discreetly palmed, the knickers slipping down, Elaine stooping to pick them up. Sister's hand held out. Elaine's knickers a small, intimate bundle of white nylon in the hand.
'You can have them back after your caning.'
Elaine's naked bottom tingling at the very word. Sister smiling openly now, as Elaine excuses herself and runs off to the loo.
Washing her hands in the sluice, Elaine tries to keep her mind off what's going to happen there, come one o'clock.
This is dreadful! God, what am I going to do? I'll refuse to be caned. Yes, that's it. Refuse point blank. But then – Oh Lord! No, I can't refuse. I've got to do it. Thrashed! Oooh, it sounds awful!
Lights out. Ten o'clock and all is well, except in Elaine's tummy. Several squadrons of butterflies are having a dog-fight. The dog is losing.
Quarter past ten, and the pale amber light is flashing. Mr Keller.
Oh no! I forgot about him.
Soft shoes squeaking on the floor. Snores, sonorous in the gloom.
Voices a whisper.
'I didn't know if you were coming.'
'Oh. Well, I'm not sure –'
A door clatters at the end of the ward.
'Sister's gone. Come on, pull the screens round.'
Oh Christ! But I s'pose I'll have to. And I could do with the money. God, this is going to be frightful.
Screens swishing sibilantly.
'That's a good girl. Come on, come over here.'
Elaine, warily, going round the bed. A hand, insistent, fumbling under her skirt. Stroking her bare thighs, above the stockings, wandering up and around her bottom. Bare bottom.
'That's my girl. Only teasing, weren't you. Took 'em off specially for me, didn't you?'
'Er – n – y-yes.'
'Good girl. Here, see what you can do with this?'
Hot in her little hand, strong and solid and hot.
A hand, fumbling with her belt.
'What're you doing?'
'Shush! I'm just taking this belt off.'
'Because I want you stripped, little girl, that's why.'
'No. Nor you can't. Sister might come back at –'
The belt, coming loose.
Elaine pulled down onto the bed, her dress being pushed up, her legs faintly visible in the dim light.
'No, I can't.'
A hand, rummaging under a pillow. Crinkly sounds.
'Take your dress off. Here's ten pounds if you'll take it off.'
Ten pounds. Almost a fortune.
'I'll have to get up then –'
'That's my girl.'
Elaine slowly stripping. Ten pounds for the dress. Another ten pounds to see her tits. Nipples standing brazenly erect. Elaine naked except for her stockings and suspenders.
'That's lovely. Come in here – come on.'
Fingers fumbling in the dark. Crisp sheets rustling. Elaine breathing heavily, desperately.
'Oh God. I'm coming –'
Elaine, writhing frantically, hips pumping, clamouring for the release. Voices soft in the dark again.
'You're a naughty little girl, aren't you, eh?'
'But – you made me do it.'
'You wouldn't have done it if you didn't want to. You really are a naughty – naughty – naughty girl.'
Naughty emphasised by a softly smacking hand.
'I – I'm not – not really.'
'Yes – you – are. Naughty – naughty – naughty. If you were my little girl I'd smack your naughty bottom.'
The hand, wandering again. Elaine, helpless, impaled on the prodding, teasing fingers, coming again in quick, panicy gasps.
'You're a little sexpot, aren't you? A naughty little sexpot. You need someone to take your knickers down and smack your little bottom don't you, eh?'
Elaine, tummy churning again, whimpers helplessly and weeps silently against a pair of striped pyjamas. The blue pyjamas are taken somewhat aback. Comforting words are said. Elaine weeps some more. Secrets are told. Soon there are no more secrets. Elaine weeps prettily yet again.
'And how much is it that you need, all together, eh?'
'Hundreds, and if I don't pay it all back my mum'll be in trouble you see. I'll never, never be able to get out of this mess. And now there's Sister – oh, God, I don't know what I'm going to do, really I don't.'
More words of comfort are whispered into a delicate ear. Elaine stops crying. A bargain is suggested.
'And I'll pay you a certain amount, over and above your salary, which we can put into a bank, you see. So that way, in about six months you'll be out of trouble, won't you?'
'Yes. I see. And – the other thing. About me being naughty like you said. Will – will that be awful, d'you think?'
'No, no my dear. The merest suggestion of chastisement, I assure you. Knickers to be taken down, of course, but not really what you'd call proper spankings, oh no, not at all –'
Elaine squirming again.
'P-please – no. Don't make me – not again.'
'Nonsense, my dear. Fine, strong, healthy girl like you? I'm quite sure it won't do you the slightest harm –.'
'Oh n-no. You're making me –!'
'That's my girl. That's my naughty little girl.'
Elaine, eventually, allowed to get dressed.
'But – what about Sister? What can I do about her?'
'Sister – well now, let me see.'
Sister is considered. A solution is found. Elaine isn't altogether happy.
'B-but she's going to th-thrash me. I don't want to be thrashed!'
'Well now, what else do you suggest? If we time it right, perhaps your dear little bottom won't suffer too much – with luck.'
Elaine, not entirely reassured, is nonetheless persuaded.
The ward, dark. One o'clock approaches. Elaine goes to the loo, then goes again. The suspense is dreadful.
At last, the fateful hour. Her teeth chatter as she goes with dragging footsteps to the sluices.
A hollow, echoing place. Bright stainless steel and clinical porcelain. Only just far enough away from the ward to make it feasible that a cane might land on a girl's bare bottom and not be heard by the patients. Cries certainly would be. So perhaps, if she cried out –
Footsteps, quiet but determined. Sister. Doors swing open and then shut.
'So you're here then?'
'Er – yes.'
Sister Evans, looking her up and down. Elaine feeling naked, remembering about her bareness under her dress. Elaine trying to find something to say, something to put off the awful moment.
'C'n – Can I ask you a question Sister?'
'Yes, what d'you want to know?'
'Why did you make me take my knickers off?'
'And why shouldn't I?'
'I-I don't know really, but –'
'A foible, my dear. Something to amuse myself. Why, did it bother you, walking about without your knickers?'
'Er – yes, I s'pose it did.'
Elaine lying, feeling it would be better to lie.
'Wonderful. That's what it was meant to do, you see. Meant to remind you, to make you think about – your thrashing.'
'Oh, I see –'
'Yes, that and simply the fact that I could make you do it. I was just playing with you, Elaine.'
Sister Evans, half-lowered eyelids, smiling secretly.
'And you'll have to get used to that, my dear.'
Elaine, feeling helpless again. Her eyes following Sister, big and wide and frightened.
'Because I'm going to play with you later, aren't I Elaine?'
It all fell slowly into place. The other thing that Allison had mentioned, but then wouldn't talk about.
'And now –'
Now. It was going to happen – was happening, now.
'– you can come and kiss me, Elaine.'
Kiss? Elaine staring with her nervous eyes. Moving uncertainly, not really understanding.
'But first, you'll have to kneel down.'
Elaine kneeling, the tiles cold on her knees. Sister Evans, coming closer, her dress sliding slowly up her thighs, pink flesh, plump bulge under delicate nylon.
An elegant finger, pointing, beckoning, coaxing pretty lips. The lips touching, caressing anxiously, the finger leading higher. A faint rustle, something bumping against the penitent's face, something long and slim and cold against her cheek.
'Now kiss that. Kiss it, before it kisses you.'
Chill rattan, smooth and varnished, stroking across her lips.
'Good girl. Slowly – painfully slowly no doubt, you will learn Elaine. Learn like Allison has. She's very good now. Very good with her lips. And her tongue. She has to be, because she hates the cane you see.'
Elaine, shivering. The chill tiles having little to do with it.
Dear God! She's going to make me really grovel. For Christ's sake, Mr Keller, don't let me down.
The elegant fingers, unpinning, unzipping, baring the young shoulders, the girlish breasts, teasing the pink little nipples to attention. Elaine's dress falling loose around her waist, her apron dangling down in front.
'And now – my cane will return the compliment. My cane will kiss your bottom, Elaine. So stand up girl. And don't fiddle with yourself, your tits are just right as they are.'
Elaine, standing up.
Sister's voice oily smooth, but impatient of argument. Cold stainless steel sink, the edge the height of her navel. The chill, impersonal touch of the cane, finding its bearings.
Oh God! It's come, it's here. I'm going to be caned –!'
Jesus! That stings. Stings like mad!
Pretty, naked buttocks bobbling under the cane's brisk impact. Young hips swerving aside, thighs pressing together in anguish.
'Oooh – oh no! No, please –!'
'Oooh! Sister –!'
'OOH! NO! PLEASE DON'T!'
'Quiet girl! D'you want people to hear?'
Crimson spreading swiftly, staining the nervous, twitching buttocks.
'Ohh! For God's sake –!'
Thwack! The cane sharp and stinging across her thighs. Elaine jumping up straight, face distorted with pain, hands clutching at her thighs.
A piece of sticking plaster, magically produced. Pretty lips drawing back. Sticking plaster stuck anyway.
Brilliant double lines streaked across the backs of two plump trembling thighs.
Frightened girl, skittering away, but having to bend over nevertheless.
Crack! Whack! Swatt!
Bright, stinging bum-cheeks wriggling pathetically. Unintelligible grunts and groans. Sister Evans with a smug little smile on her face.
Mr Keller, a smug little smile on his face too. His face peering eagerly through the glass panel of the sluice-room door, his pyjamas in disarray.
Elaine crying, blubbering, the tears streaking her flushed and glowing cheeks, her bottom jerking and jumping with the steady, punishing rhythm of the cane.
Five minutes elapsing. The cane monotonously at work, Elaine being hoisted back into position after each and every stroke. Her poor, wretched little bottom quivering incessantly, the bright weals blossoming with patient regularity.
A door, swinging open.
'Nurse – can I have a drink –?'
* * * *
Time passes. Passing time becomes a week.
A chauffeur-driven car draws up at the hospital entrance. Elaine, her uniform different now, still that of a nurse, but smarter, looking almost tailored, helps the fast-recovering Mr Keller down the steps and into the car. The car whisks away.
'You look nice my dear. Distinctly appetising in fact.'
Mr Keller coughs, though discreetly.
'Oh, sorry. Thank you sir!'
'Money get to the bank all right?'
'Yes. Thank you very much, Sir.'
A hand, on walkabout. The pretty dress is crumpled slightly. Satiny thighs are bared. Elaine looks flushed and awkward.
'What's the matter?'
'I-I'm sorry, but –'
Elaine's eyes, indicating the chauffeur. A voice, whispering in her ear.
'Doesn't matter about him. Now, did you follow instructions?'
Elaine's face, definitely blushing.
'Er – what, Sir?'
'So, show me.'
'Oh! B-but –'
'Come on now, let's see. Let's have a look, to be sure.'
Elaine's skirt flutters up reluctantly, the sweet little nest hides shyly between smooth youthful thighs.
'That's my girl! There's a good little girl!' Warm fingers stroke approvingly, and then Elaine, hesitating only enough to make it interesting for him, gives in and wriggles across his knobbly knees. Her bare, pinkening bottom trembles prettily with each crisp spank, and her hips bounce obediently to the slow insistent rhythm. The car rounds a bend in the road and bounces sharply off the inside kerb. The chauffeur murmurs an apology and tries to keep his eyes on the road, and Mr Keller makes a mental note that perhaps he ought to find himself a chauffeuse. Perhaps a nice, shapely one, and preferably one with a few money troubles!