Nurse Bethany In Bondage

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Nurse Bethany

  In Bondage

  by

  Reese Gabriel

  ISBN 13: 9781935897071

  ISBN 10: 1-935897-07-1

  A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

  Copyright © 2005 Reese Gabriel

  All rights reserved

  Chapter One

  Dr. Clark had Nurse Bethany pinned against the wall of the empty, dimly lit operating room. As chief of surgery, he was a handsome, important man, and she had felt honored when he asked her to assist him in cataloguing supplies in the back up OR; but she could see now he had something entirely different in mind.

  “Why are you fighting me?” he complained, the words interspersed with nibbles to the long stalk of her neck. “You know what I want to do to you.”

  “I. . .I. . .It’s just that I hardly know you, sir,” she stammered, already swooning under the feel of his muscular body, his hot breath, his penetrating kisses, his hard cock bulging through his scrubs against her petite body.

  “What’s to know?” he let down the tresses of her tightly pinned, golden hair. “I’m the head surgeon. I’ve just come off a three-hour quintuple bypass and I need some relief. The kind only a nurse can give.”

  Bethany could hardly believe it. The man was actually removing her scrub top to get at her tightly bound breasts, amply camouflaged under the thick sports bra. He was a very attractive older man, it was true, but still this was hardly appropriate behavior for a doctor at the city’s most prestigious hospital. “Sir, what if someone walks in?”

  “You’re new here, aren’t you, Nurse Collier?” His tone with her was patient, as though she were a small child; his behavior, however, was anything but juvenile, as he frantically stripped her. “I can see you don’t know how things are done. For starters, we prefer to see our RN’s in sexier undergarments. Something to catch the eye, shall we say. Visual stimulation, after all, is important for our hard working doctors.”

  “Doctor Clark,” she gasped as he peeled the bra over her heaving tits, exposing them to the bitter, regulation chill of the OR. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of what you should have attended to yourself, Nurse Collier. From now on, you will know that when one of the doctors summons you into this room you are to strip immediately to your undergarments. More often than not it will be a simple matter of giving oral pleasure, but undressing is required nonetheless. In certain cases, a doctor may want you ready in advance, up to and including being entirely nude minutes or hours before his arrival. In that case, you will wait in whatever position is required, most often bent over the operating table. Protection will be employed, naturally. I assume you are on the pill?”

  “But—but this is preposterous,” exclaimed Nurse Beth in disbelief. “We are professional staff members, just like you, you can’t possibly expect us to. . .”

  Dr. Clark grabbed Bethany’s nipple just hard enough to get her attention. “Kindly desist from conversing, Nurse Collier and remove your slacks and underwear.”

  Beth winced in pain as he maintained the pressure, guaranteeing her awkward standing compliance. In a few moments time, she had managed to slide down the loose scrub-like uniform trousers and the white cotton panties along with her shoes and socks. Her bare feet were icy cold on the white floor as she stood before him nude, her one nipple still clamped between the man’s fingers, the other throbbing with need. To her great shame, she felt a damp spot between her legs. Telling herself it was adrenalin and fear and nothing else, she commenced begging.

  “Please, don’t hurt me, sir.”

  “Hurt you?” he laughed, tugging his wrist downward to force her to her knees. “Young lady, that is the farthest thought from my mind. Provided, of course, you obey me without question,” he added ominously.

  Beth didn’t need it spelled out to know the man wanted her to suck him. Did she dare to fight him? And if she did, what would it cost her? Her job, her career, or maybe even her very life.

  “Open,” he commanded, employing that very same no-nonsense voice he used in the operating room when calling for a scalpel.

  Beth Collier, whose every ounce of training in nursing school had involved unquestioning deference to doctors, found herself unable to resist as he pressed the tip of his swollen cock to her soft and pliant lips. Beth took him deep as she could, but he wanted more. Her jaws gaping, she did her best, even as she braced her shivering body against the cold of the operating room.

  “Didn’t they teach you anything in school?” he grumbled, repositioning himself to deep-throat the girl.

  Beth tried not to gag. She felt almost sick. Here she was on her knees, naked in a public hospital, performing fellatio on the chief surgeon, a man old enough to be her father.

  “Yes,” he grunted, hands on the side of her head to better position himself for piston-like thrusts. “That’s it, nurse. Suck it good and hard; show me what a good little cock sucker you are.”

  The coarse language both enraged and aroused Beth. She felt like a cheap whore, a used girl. In one way, she was worse than a whore, because at least that type of woman got paid for sexual activity.

  “Good girl,” he crooned, increasingly breathless. “Such a good little nurse girl.”

  Beth glowed at the praise, condescending as it was. The realization of this only made her the more embarrassed.

  “Oh, yes,” he moaned, his guard of professionalism lowered just a tiny bit. “I’m going to come in your mouth, you little slut. I want you to drink it all down, like it’s a medicine, a special concoction I’m prescribing to you.”

  Oh, God, she thought, he wants me to swallow. Only once before had she ever done this act with a man, and that was with a boy who said he was in love and wanted to marry her. At that time she’d spit out his white-hot juices onto the ground off the old dirt road by the cornfield where she grew up.

  “Take my medicine,” he demanded, drunk with his own power. “Drink it all down.”

  Dr. Clark filled her mouth with his spunk, thick waves of it blasting the back of her throat. As best she could, Bethy took it down without choking. He held her in place afterwards, continuing to enjoy his after shocks. At long last he released her, compelling her to lick his cock clean.

  Tears welled in Bethy’s eyes as she ran her tongue over the man’s flagging erection, her position one of utter and frustrating servility.

  “Get dressed,” he told her when he was satisfied.

  Shakily rising to her feet, Bethy went to pull on her panties.

  “No,” countered Dr. Clark. “You will leave the underwear off the rest of your shift. Maybe that will be incentive to wear something more suitable tomorrow.”

  Clark took the bra and panties from her and shoved them into the sharps container mounted on the wall, making sure she’d never have access to them again. In utter shock and disbelief, Bethy glared at them inside the red plastic box, lost among various pieces of bio-hazardous waste.

  “I’d like some coffee,” he smacked her naked ass hard. “Run down to the cafeteria and fetch me some when you’re done.”

  Without another word, he walked out, leaving her with nothing but her scrubs and a stomach full of warm jism. So much for my first day on the job, she thought glumly.

  ***

  Bethy was praying no one would notice. Under her loose uniform top, her uncovered nipples tented painfully, chafing with every step. Meanwhile, between her legs, a steady trickle dribbled from her naked pussy. She was quite certain everyone in the hospital would see she had no underwear on, and not only that, she was sure they could tell she had performed oral sex on Dr. Clark as well. Splashing cold water on her face and fixing her hair back up, she could only hope she would pass for professional. Really, she was still in shock. She’d heard of sexual harassment and they’d warned her in some of her nursing school classes to watch out for sexually exploitative doctors, but this went beyond all bounds of propriety.

  Had it really happened? Had the chief of surgery really required her to take all her clothes off and go down on him? Certainly the hot coffee in her hands that she was running back up to him was real, as was the sting and the red spot on her ass where he’d struck her, callously, cruelly. What a fool she’d been. Trusting a man, a stranger, just because he was a tall, handsome doctor carrying so much authority. Hadn’t it occurred to her that doctors didn’t “catalog” supplies in vacant operating rooms?

  What did she think would happen in there? She should have known better; she might be a little naïve, but Bethy was no virgin. She knew what men wanted from attractive, shapely blondes like her. Which is one of the reasons she’d gone into nursing in the first place, so she could have something to offer society other than a pretty face and desirable body.

  It wasn’t bragging. It’s just how it was. Men and boys came onto her big-time. And now here it was happening again. She’d have to nip it in the bud. Getting this man coffee sent the wrong message, that was for sure. What she needed to do was go to Diane Norman’s office, her supervisor, the woman who’d hired her. Surely she’d know how to handle the matter.

  Important as Doctor Clark was, he was hardly immune to sexual harassment charges, nor was he
above being fired for what amounted to assault. She might even be able to file criminal charges.

  If not for one small problem, namely that he’d not actually forced her to do anything. That was the complicated part. Scared and furious as she was, a part of her had also been curious and a little bit thrilled. Being at Doctor Clark’s mercy had been a bit of an aphrodisiac, making her pussy quiver with deep need. Deeper than she’d ever felt before, even with her current boyfriend Randy with whom she’d been involved for more than a year.

  It took some effort to track the chief surgeon down. She finally found him in, of all places, the doctor’s lounge, chewing the fat with several of his colleagues less than a foot from a freshly brewed pot of coffee. She blushed hotly as she handed him the cup, now lukewarm.

  Bethy could feel the eyes of the doctors on her. Measuring. Appraising. Did they know Dr. Clark’s secret? Were they really in on it the way the man had insinuated?

  “That will be all,” he said crisply, dismissing her without so much as a thank you.

  Feeling like a mere scullery maid, the pretty blonde turned on her heel. Again she felt the eyes of the men, this time on her backside, which was only partially protected by the thin layer of her drawstring scrubs.

  “Nurse Collier.” He stopped her at the doorway.

  “Yes, Doctor Clark?”

  “I prefer your hair down.”

  The four doctors were watching her, faces expressionless. Bethy wanted to run. She was ashamed and angry. The man had no right. Hadn’t he hurt her enough already? Must he add such insult to injury? Must he rub it in her face that he had crossed the line, imposing himself on her personally, sexually?

  Just go along with it, said the rational part of her mind. As soon as you’re out of their sight you can go and get help. You can call the police, you can run for security, you can find Diane, better still. Just follow the plan and everything will be all right.

  Then again she could—should—tell him to screw himself. With what she had on him now, he was finished in this hospital and in his career as well. He’d never practice medicine again, she was sure of it.

  But there was that other part, the curious, aroused little part that wanted to know what it would feel like to do precisely what the man told her. To be obedient to him in front of his staid, obviously sexist colleagues. To make herself more attractive, so they could see her even more fully as a sexual object.

  Bethy’s fingers trembled as she lifted them to the top of her head. She was all too aware of the implications of the position. A woman could be tied like this, helplessly. Then there would be nothing she could do to protect herself from prying eyes, or hands or even cocks.

  Her breasts rose and fell, in tune to the quickening of her heart. There was no disguising her lack of a bra. What if they were to not only look and see but strip her or command her to take her own clothes off? What would she do? Would she be able to resist them?

  Freed from the clip, Bethy’s golden hair spilled down over her shoulders. The implications terrified her. This was not a professional look, not an image which said treat me as a colleague or even an inferior employee, rather it was deeply enticing, inviting a man to be a man, to see her as a woman, small and curvy to be had and enjoyed and possessed.

  Hers was hair that was capable of inspiring in men many things. Awe and fascination, certainly lust and even an urge towards domination, but it in no way suggested anything platonic. It was for this reason she kept it up, out of sight as much as possible. Even Randy, a personal trainer and professional hard body was frequently complaining of what a distraction she was when he was trying to exercise.

  “Run your fingers through it,” said Doctor Clark, his tone entirely dispassionate.

  Bethy looked at him, emitting a small whimper. He may as well have told her to put her hand down her pants and play with herself. “Sir, please, I can’t. . .”

  “You can and you will, Nurse Collier, unless you would like an immediate dismissal on your record.”

  Bethy wasn’t sure what she wanted, or what she could afford. Did the man have that much power over her?

  She began at her forehead, tracing lightly with her delicate pink nails. Like a comb, she furrowed the thick, wheat-gold tresses, striving to be as mechanical and non-suggestive as possible.

  “Again,” the doctor said, the tiniest note of displeasure in his voice. “Slowly, more sensuously.”

  Beth’s pulse raced like a cornered rabbit’s. There was no running now. These men were determined to see her as what she was. A small, desirable female. Truthfully, the idea no longer repulsed her. The curious part, the slutty part of her was apparently winning out. Licking her hot, dry lips, she tilted back her head and gave them what they wanted.

  They must think a lot of her to pay so much attention, she thought. They must want me, really want me. Eyes shut, she unfurled her locks, feeling for the moment that she was the most beautiful girl on earth, a fashion model whom men paid thousands of dollars an hour to photograph. Maybe one of the doctors would want to date her, even, sweeping her off her feet and treating her like a princess, and carry her off to his pent-house castle in the clouds.

  Nurse Collier heard voices, interrupting her reverie. The doctors were talking. Not about her but about their golf games.

  “Clark, there isn’t enough titanium on God’s green earth to help your back swing,” laughed one.

  “We’ll see, Lyle, we’ll see.”

  They were ignoring her. They’d moved on, leaving her standing there, feeling cheap . . . even worthless, like. . .like some kind of whore.

  Tears in her eyes, Bethy ran from the lounge. Needless to say, none of them bothered to follow her.

  ***

  “Breathe,” soothed Diane Norman. “In, out, in out. You’re hyperventilating on me.”

  Bethy put her head down between her knees, trying to choke back the sobs. For some reason the position only reminded her of her lack of underwear and the terrible, nightmarish first day she was having. “Oh, Mrs. Norman, it’s. . . I . . .”

  “I told you in the interview,” chided the slender thirty-something brunette. “Call me Diane or Di. We nurses can’t be too formal with each other, you know.”

  Bethy sat up. Woozy. “S-sorry. . .Diane.”

  Diane, who was sitting beside Bethy on the sofa in her small but functional office, put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Now, let’s start at the top. All I’ve made out so far is something about Dr. Clark and some supplies in the OR.”

  Inhaling a deep, steeling breath, Bethany began again at the top, taking it from the point where the silver-haired, square-jawed chief surgeon with the blue, blue eyes had taken an interest in her at the post-op nurse’s station where she’d just been posted. They’d exchanged a few pleasantries, at which point he’d offered her the chance to go on ‘special assignment’ as he put it.

  The rest of the story she attempted to keep as clinical as possible, though she nearly lost it at several points. Especially when it came to describing the details of how she’d been made to deep-throat the doctor, taking his thick load of semen down her throat. She also kept to herself the bit about how aroused she’d become playing with her hair and how a part of her was secreting thrilling to the outrageous, completely sexist treatment.

  As she continued, the lines on Diane’s face grew more taut. She bore no expression behind her pretty green eyes, and Bethy wasn’t exactly sure what she was thinking of this confession. Surely she was as appalled and shocked as Bethany herself?

  “I’m afraid you’ve been chosen,” said Diane, her somber expression rather like that employed by doctors in telling their patients they have cancer.

  “Chosen, Mrs.. . . Diane? For what?”

  The woman sighed, looking down at her hands. “As you probably know, Bethany, doctors wield a tremendous amount of power, not only within this hospital but in the general community. By and large, they restrict its use to medical affairs, but there are some, in certain situations who seek to, shall we say, exploit their position in other arenas.”

  Bethany felt a cold chill down her spine, every bit as frost provoking as the frigid operating room in which she’d been molested. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I think you do,” she smiled weakly, stroking back strands of frazzled blonde hair from the twenty-three-year-old’s eyes. “I think you do.”