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Darcy wanted to say something—that it was entirely too large for a neophyte, to say nothing of the idea that she was going to be inserting it while Mandi's legs were held tightly shut, which would hardly make the process any easier on either of them—but she knew better than to do that.
The next size up didn't have the thermometer capacity, so it would nestle coyly in between the woman's plump cheeks.
She reached for the KY, half expecting to be told to use something more painful, but the order didn't come.
"Not too much," the other nurse chided. "It just gets messy and slippery."
Darcy coated the big plug with a thin layer of lube, concentrating the most of it at the widest point, which she knew would be the hardest challenge, even though she knew that no one would have done the same for her. Maybe she wasn't as much of a hardened sadist as she worried she was, she thought.
Just retrieving the old one was a process because Mandi was clamped down on it so tightly. But eventually, she worked it out of her. It should have felt good to have been relieved of such continual pressure, but Mandi knew she could hardly celebrate when what had been occupying her back door was just going to be replaced by something that was going to spread her even wider.
Darcy knew she would never get used to seeing someone so desperate to get away from her. As she advanced towards the girl, she saw the dance begin that she did so often, herself—the futile one, the one that made her exhaust most of her energy trying to do something that was just never going to happen. And she was horrified to realize just how titillating she found it. Mandi's bottom cheeks were rounded and firm, glowing a deep, dark red that bordered on purple in most areas, and she was alternately arching and cringing and tried to swing them from side to side to get away from what she knew was coming. What she knew there was no hope of avoiding.
That little sphincter seemed to be half the size it usually was, all closed up and pinched shut, and the nose of the plug dwarfed it. Darcy hesitated, just for a moment, as she stood behind Mandi, wondering how she was going to fit that thing up inside her and reliving, in her mind, the countless times when she had been the one who was expected to accept the impossible into her body, too.
"Hanson!" Carson's sharp rebuke brought her back to reality. "Do as you are told this instant, or I shall tell the doctor that you are uncooperative, and you'll have the table next to your protégé within the next ten minutes."
"Yes, ma'am," Darcy answered automatically, and she found her hand moving forward of its own volition as Mandi's cries increased with every small advancement.
Suddenly, classical music flooded the room. Carson preferred it sometimes, usually when her victim was particularly vocal. The two of them donned headsets that amplified their conversation, but the protestations of their victim were largely drowned out.
Carson came to stand right next to Darcy, watching her like a hawk as the widest point stretched that ring of flesh almost beyond its capacity but not quite, and then the base of the plug began to disappear inside Mandi's body. They didn't need to hear her cries die down to tell when it was firmly anchored within her; her entire body relaxed as relief set in.
But it shouldn't have, because there was more to come. There was always more to come, Darcy could have told her.
Nurse Carson wielded the cane with the expertise of long time familiarity. Darcy had never dared to ask where she might have come by that, figuring she might well not want to know. Perhaps she had been a governess or a teacher at a boarding school in Europe where that type of thing was still tolerated. But at least she wasn't the one who was on the receiving end this time, although her heart cringed every time it fell on those beleaguered buttocks. At first, she flinched noticeably, but she learned to control it because it drew unwanted attention from Carson.
But her body betrayed her conscience, leaking more and more of its precious fluids, the louder Mandi's cries became.
She became mesmerized by the crisscross pattern the older woman created on Mandi's skin, hearing the rhythmic whistle of the cane through the air, and then, as time went on, the amazingly satisfying thwack of it across cringing flesh.
"Want to try it, Hanson?"
Darcy didn't want to admit to herself—or anyone else—that her curiosity was piqued, and her hand itched to grab a hold of that implement, to feel the weight of it in her hand, to spread the agony around a little.
But, as usual, if she thought she was actually being given the choice, she was mistaken. Carson forced her into position and pressed the handle into her hand, proceeding to show her how to properly administer a stroke while Mandi lay there as the canvass for both the teacher and the pupil. Nurse Carson delivered four or five strokes just in showing Darcy the correct method and then Darcy took point and Mandi didn't know how many more strokes she was going to be given by someone who had no idea what she was doing.
She wondered if that was really going to make any difference to her, and then the first stripe fell and wrapped around the side of her hip.
"You see what you did wrong there?" Carson asked, pointing out where the cane should never have touched.
She gave Darcy pointers as she continued to slice that thing down onto Mandi's bottom, and it took about fifteen strokes before she got the hang of it, and then she had to endure another five or so just for practice.
"It's like riding a bicycle, though," Carson said as she leaned the cane against the nearest wall. Darcy didn't think anything of the fact that she didn't actually put it away. "Once you know how to do it, you'll never forget."
They got Mandi back into her uniform, although her bottom was so swollen and the material so tight that it was impossible to miss the ridges that peeped out of from under the skirt. She was understandably embarrassed to be seen like that, but neither of them was going to allow her to hide out. "Go out there and do what you're being paid for, girl," Carson said, literally shoving the poor thing out the door.
Darcy made as if to follow her, but she was kept in place by a firm hand on her upper arm. "Now, my girl, there is a little matter of the fact that you took your sweet time obeying me during that last session. And I've not even mentioned the fact that the girl you're in charge of is a lazy doofus who can barely remember her own name, even after she's been here for several weeks. Plus, you were abominable with that cane at first. I expected better from you. You're in for it because of all of those things, I can promise you."
The more she did to Mandi, the harder it got to have such things done to her. It was on the tip of her tongue to argue with Nurse Carson when she would have been sure that the urge to rebel had been worked out of her, but then she thought better of the idea. She knew that she was moving ever so slowly up the food chain, but she was still the doctor's favorite play toy, and she couldn't see that Mandi Taft was going to fill her shoes in that way any time soon, so she had no choice but to change demeanors quickly, lest she make things harder on herself than they were already going to be.
So, without making Nurse Carson ask her to, which would have added strokes and or more humiliating punishments, Darcy disrobed herself.
Nurse Carson hadn't necessarily meant that they were going to go that route in particular, which she said out loud to Darcy, not until the girl was already standing nude in front of her. "But, since you're here, I'm sure you could do with a thorough inspection."
And she meant very thorough. Nurse Carson had a perfunctory, detached manner that would make any young woman nervous, and she made Darcy feel as if she was a slave on the auction block who was coming up short of expectations. She was required to stand at attention while the nurse examined her from head to toe—quite literally. She ran her hands through her hair, checked her ears, nose and throat, felt the glands on the sides of her neck, checked her range of motion in her arms and legs, listened to her heart—she did the whole nine yards, tsking at the fact that she had a bit of a hammer toe on one foot and she was a bit knock kneed.
Then she started in on the more intimate stuff even before she told Darcy to lie down, pinching, squeezing and tugging on her nipples and the rest of her breast, standing behind her and having her bend over with her legs spread, placing her hands flat on the floor while the older woman reached up into her pussy and rooted around as if she was doing something when the both of them knew that all she was doing was humiliating Darcy by handling her like she was no more than a piece of human flesh to be inspected and graded.
