Page 6 of Doctor's Orders

Now they both knew as nurses that the enema should be hung only about two feet above the patient's hip so as to make it easier for them to take. But apparently, that was not one of Angine's concerns regarding her enema.

She heard—and saw—Angine snap on latex gloves, then attach the nozzle to the hose, running a bit of the solution through it to make sure it wasn't leaking anywhere. And then she saw her preparing the end of the nozzle that was going to go inside her. She should have been slickening it with KY.

But it was Tiger Balm, instead, being lavishly slathered onto both the interior and the exterior balloons. She was going to be burned alive from the inside and out!

She would have sworn she didn't have the energy left to protest, but her body apparently hadn't gotten the memo. She was held down so tightly and completely, though, that even her frantic, frenetic attempts at movements didn't have much effect, certainly not enough to deter Angine.

She had seated herself on the rolling stool that the doctor often used and placed herself between Darcy's well spread legs. As she placed the tip of the nozzle against Darcy's cringing, puckered hole and began to press firmly, Angine commented snidely, "Well, considering that the doctor was here before me, there's certainly no need to warm you up at all." Then she laughed out loud at the little joke she had made at Darcy's expense and proceeded to push the nozzle into position in one stroke while Darcy wept and tried to wail with pain and rage and indignation, but nothing came out. Her mouth was wide open in a silent scream almost the entire time.

As there hadn't been when it had been her clit that was on the receiving end of Angine's Tiger Balm fetish, there was no escaping the searing effects on those delicate tissues, and seconds later, when she heard that telltale "click" that signaled that her nurse had begun the flow of enema fluids into her bowels, she learned that the almost hot temperature of the liquid only ratcheted up the level of her discomfort.

Within another few seconds, with Angine's faithful reporting of each more permissive click, she was forced to take the full flow from where the bucket hung, much higher than it should have, and the irritants of the balm as well as the soap and the water had her panting and sobbing and trying to come to grips with what was being done to her and failing very badly as it went on and on—because, occasionally, and not when she needed it the most, Angine would completely stop the flow and reach up, past her still humiliatingly swollen clit to her rapidly expanding lower belly, which she massaged with surprising gentleness, all while the inside of her forearm pressed warmly against Darcy's privates, not quite stroking them, really, but touching them enough that she was desperate for her to either continue the stimulation to its natural—if shamefully humiliating—end or, preferably, withdraw altogether.

But she did neither, of course.

Darcy knew that it wasn't out of the kindness of her heart that Angine was doing that, either. She was manipulating her lower belly so that the liquid she was very quickly flooding into it moved further up inside her, making room for just that much more of what was waiting for her.

And then it was immediately back to that full, powerful flow that had Darcy in mindless misery as all of that soapy substance burned and sluiced its way through her tummy.

"I know this is turning you on, Darcy," Angine said softly as she stood at Darcy's head, stroking her hair gently in direct contrast to the riot she'd set in motion at her other end, "and that you're horrified and humiliated that it does. And I'm going to try to do my best to make sure that this—or something like it—happens to you very frequently so that, like the doctor said, you're pretty much constantly teased to within a fraction of an inch of coming. And heaven forbid if you should lose control and come before you're given permission. That would make everything that has been done to you up to that point feel like a joy ride."

With that, she headed back to her previous position, only this time, she didn't sit between her legs; she stood, with her KY slickened fingers fluttering very lightly over Darcy's engorged button, tempting, almost stroking but not quite as she used her other hand to pinch and squeeze Darcy's still inflamed rear end, finally beginning to slap it hard.

"You're going to take every drop of this enema, Darcy, and then you're going to get at least two more, until you're running clear, before you thank me for my efforts and I let you start your work day. And what an interesting day it's going to be, too."

And she wasn't kidding about any of it, especially the interesting day.

Darcy had had a horrible time of it. Her behind was abominably sore and the spandex only seemed to contribute to it, and it was worse when she sat down, which she did for a reasonable part of the day. Her nipples—and other even more intimate parts of herself—continued to burn long after Angine had finally dismissed her from the secret exam room—after, of course, having extracted the requisite submissive, humiliating "thank you" from Darcy for having been so cruelly abused. But what was worst of all was that, although all of those things were horrible in and of themselves, combined, they nearly drove her crazy with the need to alleviate the ache that they created. She actually had to physically restrain herself from keeping a hand in her crotch constantly, like a little girl who needed to go to the bathroom.

She wanted—needed—relief from all of the pent up sexual tension from this morning and from weeks of it that had built up from the doctor's attentions, but she knew she wasn't allowed to do much more than wipe herself and was definitely not allowed to bring herself off.

And all of this distracted her from her work at the worst possible time—when Angine'd been given jurisdiction over her behavior and was watching her like a hawk. She'd already earned several more punishments to come tomorrow, when Angine added insult to injury and said on their way out, "I'll see you in my office at six A.M. tomorrow—for the mistake you made on Mrs. Erickson's record, the fact that you forgot to have the speculum the doctor needed on the tray during Ms. Hamilton's exam, and because you were late to work this morning."

Darcy stopped mid-step and looked back at Angine in disbelief, entirely unable to stop herself from saying incredulously, "But you made me late for work with y-your…" She didn't want to elaborate, in case someone else heard her, so she reverted to, "You made me late!"

Angine stood directly in front of her and warned, apparently without care as to who might overhear her, "I would watch my tone, if I were you, missy, since you're already in so much trouble. And if you hadn't already been in trouble with the doctor for your inattention to your duties in the first place, then I wouldn't have been able to make you late, now, would I? Six A.M. Don't be late. It's going to be bad enough for you without adding to it."

Darcy cried all the way home, sitting on her still sizzling rump and still feeling the lingering after effects of all of the balm that had been used on her in such delicate places, to say nothing of what the doctor had done to her. But despite all of the discomfort she had been subjected to, it was the humiliation and degradation that affected her the most. She could barely meet Angine's eyes all day, because, every time she did, she saw her driving that spiced nozzle into her helpless backside, or torturing her nipples, or boldly fondling the very parts she'd just set fire to, as if she was trying to drive Darcy past her ability to control herself so that she would be in just that much more trouble with herself and the doctor.

When she got home, she took a hot shower, then changed it to cold in order to help her privates recover. Darcy was embarrassed to realize that even doing something as simple as that, that was almost clinical, had her clit tight and throbbing, as if beckoning her to eliminate the wait she was being subjected to and just bring herself off.

But considering what she was being subjected to for such small things, the idea of disobeying such a basic rule of working there kept her hands at her sides, although her fists were clenched from the effort.

And it didn't help that Darcy spent the entire night being kept awake by the desires that everyone seemed to enjoy stirring up in her but never fulfilling. Visions of what had been done to her danced through her feverish mind before and after she was finally able to fall asleep, more in the early morning than the middle of the night, which she knew made it just that much more possible that she might be late for her appointment with Angine, which was really only a few hours away.

Chapter 4

After that day, things settled in a horrible routine for Darcy with alarming ease. She was at the clinic nearly every morning, hours before she needed to be, to be disciplined for one crime or another, from something as major as leaving a patient alone in the exam room for nearly a half hour because she'd forgotten to give anyone her chart to being what Angine called "snippy" with her, which meant anything that even remotely smacked of anything but complete submission and subservience.

It rapidly became more unusual for her not to have a sore, throbbing bottom than to have to deal with one all day, every day. Angine had also taken to disciplining her in empty exam rooms whenever she felt the need. Her supervisor apparently didn't feel the need to keep that fact from anyone, so that juicy bit of gossip spread like the wildfire Angine lit on her ass every time she turned around. Darcy quickly found that, instead of being sympathetic, the other women were much more likely than not to turn her in to either Angine or the doctor, just to get her into even more trouble than she was already quite capable of doing for herself. There was always a crowd now when Angine finally let her out of whatever room in which she was being punished, a crowd that eagerly took in her tear stained face, swollen eyes and hitching breath, and her tormentors did nothing to discourage it.

She began to pray that they were fully booked for the day and that no one cancelled, because, if they did, she would spend the forty-five minutes that had been calculated for their appointment bent over an exam table or lying on one—she wasn't sure which was worse.

The doctor insisted on a weekly update as to how his protégé thought her charge was doing, so not only was she in early, but she was required to stay late every Thursday evening so that the subject of their discussion was present as they critiqued her.

Angine presented the doctor with a list of Darcy's misdeeds, which was always depressingly long and thorough, as well as the subsequent punishments therein.

As he pondered the list, while Darcy stood naked at attention in the middle of the room, of course, he asked, "How long has it been since she orgasmed, Nurse Crawford?"

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