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But it was what she heard next that had her trying to howl at least as loudly as she had been while she was being paddled, but she didn't have the voice left to do it. She heard the all too familiar tinkle of his belt buckle being loosened. He didn't bother to undress with her—she wondered if he did with anyone else—just adjusted his clothing enough to release himself while she lay there completely naked as he leered down at her.
Only this time, Angine took point—literally, standing at her head, at the opposite end of the exam table from the doctor as Darcy watched in horror and dread as she dipped her index and middle fingers of both hands, as well as the thumbs of each, into that same balm and applied them to her straining, pebble hard nipples at the exact moment that Dr. Brackett drove himself inside her—and not her quim—with minimal use of the lubricant that they got free from the company.
She felt as if she was being split open while those ultra-sensitive buds were being blow torched off, but Angine wasn't in the least idle as the doctor pumped furiously away into her, the weight of her body forcing her down onto him against her will, as if she welcomed his savage invasions while Angine pinched away furiously, tugging and pulling and twisting in almost perfect rhythm with the doctor's powerful thrusts.
And he took his time about it, too. Jared Brackett didn't much do wham bam thank you ma'am. He liked to draw things out, to luxuriate in what he was doing and force his victim to spend long moments—even hours—confronting the reality and the stark, undeniable images—of what was being done to her.
"So tell me, Nurse Crawford, you had a chance to see, if not examine, it while you were securing her to the table. Was Darcy's clit small and shrunken because of the lotion you applied and the spanking and paddling she received?"
Darcy felt the blush begin at her toes and flood over her body, not stopping until it had seeped into her hairline—not only because he'd asked the question, but more so because she knew the truth of the mortifying answer that her fellow employee was going to give.
"No, sir. It was erect and throbbing and very swollen. I would venture to say even more so than before I applied the lotion."
"And what conclusions about the patient can we draw from the evidence her own body has presented to us—the swollen clit and the dripping cunt?" the doctor asked, breathing heavily but having slowed himself considerably, although, as a counterpoint, he had begun to withdraw completely from her after each plunge, then snap his hips up and thus force himself abruptly into her, to the hilt, every time, as if it was his first entry with each thrust.
"That she enjoys everything about this, no matter how loudly she might protest to the contrary."
"Exactly, Nurse. Exactly. And that is a very rare thing indeed. So, what is the best way to proceed with a situation like this?"
It took Angine just a split second to reply with relish, "I think that would mean that it would be necessary for you to be just that much stricter with her. I would think that you would need to keep an even closer eye on her, just in case she, you know, comes without permission or does something sexually inappropriate—perhaps even with a patient—because her passions have driven her to it."
As she watched him nod his head in agreement at Angine's suggestions about how she should be handled, Darcy wanted to scream that she would never, ever do anything in the least inappropriate and that she didn't need to be so closely supervised, but by that time, she had lost her voice completely, and although she opened her mouth to protest vehemently, she couldn't even get so much as a whisper to come out.
The doctor was very close, they could both tell, but he prided himself on his control, so he forced himself to continue the conversation. "Another excellent answer, Angine. And although I fully intend to tighten the screws around our little miscreant, here, I am also going to charge you with supervising her. You must come to me to discuss it and get permission first, but I will allow you to punish her as you see fit based on the deficits you find in her behavior or attitude, her dress or preparedness or any reason at all. I think this one needs the strictest of control and discipline in order to keep her on the straight and narrow. You're not allowed to make her come at all. But I think this one needs to be kept very close to the edge at all times, so make sure she thoroughly enjoys her disciplinary sessions, just not to completion. She needs the same type of teasing treatment that I give a lot of my patients, only more so—more frequently, more harshly, and with markedly fewer chances to alleviate all that tension. That should keep her mind focused on obedience."
He threw his head back and watched the scene he had created in his mind being played out in reality and that drove him over the edge, drove him to take her with mindless force, slamming himself into her as he watched Angine viciously wrenching those poor seared nipples. He exploded deep within her bottom, emptying himself in huge spurts until he was sure there would be nothing left of him for weeks on end and he almost felt weak from the powerful orgasm.
Or at least until he got a good look at them in the mirror again.
If he'd had any hesitancy about how he was going to proceed with Nurse Hanson, it evaporated right then and there. He would never let go of her. No woman had ever inspired such heights in him. He was already completely hard again, when, seconds ago, he would have sworn that was impossible.
Darcy, whose body was still trying to absorb the various ways in which it had been assaulted, whose bottom hole was throbbing in time with her pulse, as were her nipples and her clit and, it seemed, even those areas where she hadn't been touched, was surprised that she hadn't been released yet. All of her seemed to be on edge, waiting for something that she was obviously going to be denied while the remnants of her punishment were left to remind her of her deficits—and their inevitable consequences—for the rest of the day.
Instead, Angine helped the doctor straighten his clothes, helped him into his lab coat and stood by him as he paused at the door to look back at Darcy, saying, "Give her a thorough washing out before you allow her to start her shift."
"Yes, sir." Turning to her charge, she smacked Darcy's bottom hard. "What did I tell you to say when the doctor was through with you?"
She was going to have to thank him for doing this to her? She couldn't—she wouldn't.
But she did, and quickly, knowing it would go that much worse for her if she didn't. "Thank you, Dr. Brackett," she barely croaked.
"You're welcome, Nurse Hanson. You can look forward to many more of these sessions in the future, I promise you, either with me, or with Nurse Crawford."
And then he left, and Darcy tried not to think about what he'd said or about what was yet to happen to her in the next few minutes, not to let the butterflies—that had become bats—to start in her stomach again, but it was already too late. A washing out. A washing out! Angine was going to give her an enema, with the full knowledge and blessing of Dr. Brackett! She had never wanted to faint in her life, but now she prayed fervently for a loss of consciousness that she knew wouldn't come.
Angine wasted no time in repositioning her, and the innovative design of the table allowed for that to be done with a minimum of fuss or staff participation. In fact, it was pretty much automated once her legs were released. The splint like extensions that her arms were strapped to began to move, and she had no choice but to move with them.
As she was slowly, forcibly rolled over onto her tummy, the level of the table began to change, so that her head was well below her rear end and the bladder at the end of the table began to fill, pushing her behind out as if it was embracing the idea of being filled with soapy water, when that was the farthest thing possible from the truth. Her legs were left to hang over the end of the bed until Angine secured them much as she had Mrs. Rose, using the braces on her knees to pull her legs wide apart again, then securing her feet into stirrup boots that would immobilize her just that much further.
Darcy had never had an enema before, and she couldn't think that Angine would be the most compassionate administrator of one. And she was absolutely right.
Of course, even though she was facing away from that end of the room, she was forced to watch the woman behind her, preparing everything. There was a sink behind one of the mirrored wall panels, and behind another was a huge selection of enema equipment, some of which seemed to be antiques and quite a few things that Darcy didn't recognize—or rather, preferred not to recognize. She saw the other nurse select a transparent bucket and add an unknown amount—that looked huge to Darcy—of Castile soap to the warm water after having clicked the clamp closed on the hose that was already conveniently attached to the bottom of the bucket.
Then she stood in front of what were obviously enema nozzles, although some of them were absolutely enormous and looked much more like dildos. Darcy began to sweat when Angine reached for one or two of the larger ones, and she realized that there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent her from using them on her, anyway.
But then she moved on, to the inflatable choices, finally selecting a double Bardex, which had a balloon that was inserted inside the patient and inflated, as well as a balloon that was externally inflated, in order to prevent leaking.
None of the choices was acceptable to Darcy, and this one was worse than most. It likely signaled that the size of the enema was going to make it hard for her to retain on her own, and when she saw the extent to which the bucket had been filled, she knew the truth of it. Paying her absolutely no mind, Angine hung the bucket on the pole that she had popped up from the top left corner of the table and shoved extremely high into the air, so high she had to go on her tiptoes to hang it.
