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From: amuseme_uk@yahoo.co.uk
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Subject: The Matron
Date: Tue, 17 May 2005 22:20:33 -0700
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===================
Think back to those days in the immediate aftermath of WW2 and their
attendant problems. Not the least of these was TB. I was a young
student nurse in training at a TB sanatorium in England. The
Sanatorium had been a stately home and temporary wards had been added,
built from specially insulated service barrack huts connected by
covered walkways. The medical and operating facilities and the Nurses
quarters were in the main house (it was enormous).
We had one memorable patient who was a young Royal Air Force Group
Captain who was a war hero. My prince charming had trained to fly just
before the war and been in action in fighter aircraft since 1940 and
then into North Africa, on into Italy and eventually took part in the
liberation of Europe. He had been awarded several medals for his
flying and leadership skills. He went out to fight the in South East
Asia late in 1944 and shortly before the end of the war he came down
with TB, probably brought on by poor living conditions and too frequent
contact with infected people.
He was repatriated to the UK and was a very, very sick young man when
he arrived with us late in 1945. Frankly, we worshipped him. He was
so young and had been so brave during the war. He deserved all the
help he could get and we did all we could for him. We wondered if he
would pull through, but the latest version of penicillin and dedicated
nursing slowly made the difference.
By the spring of 1946 he was taking the fresh air and sunshine
treatment, reclining during the day on a wheeled bed in the open air on
fine days and sheltering in a thing like a big greenhouse if it looked
like rain. We got him on his feet for increasing lengths of time each
day. By early May, he was walking about and playing a few holes of
pitch and putt on the little golf course in the grounds. He was such a
celebrity that he had his own little side ward where he slept at night.
Eventually tests showed that his infection had gone but we had to be
absolutely sure before we could let him go. The prospect of his final
test loomed and all of us girls were quietly dreading his departure, he
was so glamorous and charming. I confess that at night, I would retire
to my bed in the Nurse's home and fantasise about him, often playing
with myself!
The hospital was run on traditional lines with a Matron, a few Sisters,
several Staff Nurses and many of us trainees. The Matron was an old
Dragon (so I thought) and the senior Consultant resembled the character
depicted in the "Carry On" series. The Matron and the Consultant
maintained strict discipline. It was not unheard-of for a trainee to
be summoned to the Matron, given a terrible telling-off and then being
CANED by the consultant. That much was admitted, although there were
other rumours about the Matron!
One of my best friends had been caught by the Matron in a clinch with a
patient and given six strokes of the cane by the Consultant. She came
back to the nurses home sobbing and frantically rubbing her bottom.
Later on that evening, she knocked on my door and asked me to go to her
room with her. Once back in her room, she stood up still rubbing her
bottom and told me what had happened. It was even worse than I had
thought. I didn't quite understand it at the time, being young and
innocent, but now I realise that the Matron was a Lesbian and kept it
hidden until she had a girl in her total power - easy for her to do
in those discipline-laden days after the war. My friend said that the
Matron had threatened her with immediate expulsion from the Sanatorium,
made her strip naked, called the Consultant, warned the girl she would
have to take a caning then ordered the girl to use her toilet while
she, the Matron watched. My friend was so scared she did as she was
told. After she had finished peeing, the Matron filled a bowl with
warm water and ordered my friend to bend over and touch her toes whilst
she washed the girls pussy and ring piece, caressing her labia and clit
into the bargain! I was staggered. My friend began crying. I put my
arms round her and hugged her as she sobbed on my shoulder.
"Maria", she cried, "I'm in such pain and I feel so dirty.
Please can you come with me to the bathroom and help me bath. I
can't bear to sit on the cane marks, I need your help." It was
late on a Friday evening and the Nurse's home was very quiet, many of
the nurses being out for the evening. We quietly went down to the
bathroom and my friend undressed. She took great care in removing her
knickers to stop the elasticated waist-band from rubbing on the cane
marks, which were purplish-black, criss-crossing each other and looked
almost ready to burst and release cascades of blood. I was horrified.
We ran the bath and my friend got in, kneeling down, not wishing to sit
on her punishment. I took a flannel and helped to wash her.
Eventually, I ran the flannel under the hot tap and very gently bathed
the terrible cane marks. My friend began crying again as I did so, but
the swelling went down a bit. I helped her out of the bath and began
to dry her. When we had finished, she slipped into her dressing gown
and we went back to her room, where I rubbed cold cream gently into her
marks. She had stopped crying but drew her breath in and squealed a
bit if I pressed too hard on a wheal. After a little while, she
wrapped a towel round herself, got into bed and I covered her up. She
slowly went to sleep and I left her to recover.
I went back to my room and examined my feelings. I was very sorry for
my friend, but the sight of her tortured nates turned me on a bit and I
wondered what if felt like to be caned like that. I wondered too what
the Consultant thought when he arrived in the Matron's office to find
a naked girl waiting to be caned. This had to be abnormal and I
wondered if it could be that the Matron and Consultants were in a
perverse way, aiding and abetting each other's sexual proclivities.
But there was an upside, also according to rumours. These rumours had
it that if a girl had taken her caning without too much fuss, at the
end of her training she could often get an excellent report and her
first full nursing job at a hospital of her choice and in those days
there were some lovely hospitals in nice places that you could choose
from.
I went to bed and found myself to be quite wet. I wrapped my legs
around a pillow and masturbated myself to total relief. I felt
wonderful and experienced one of the strongest orgasms that I had
experienced up to that time. But I was confused and filled with
fantasy about my lovely Group Captain who would soon be leaving us. I
was a virgin but becoming aware of my sexuality and now these strange
desires were awakening in me.
The hospital was often quiet at the weekends, especially if we had
no-one on the danger or critical lists, which both shortened to almost
nil during the summer months. I knew that I would be on duty over the
next weekend evenings and I began to wonder if I could sneak a few
minutes alone with my special patient. I surreptitiously managed to
get a look at the senior staff lists and found that on the following
Sunday, both the Matron and Consultant would be away. I hatched my
plan.
We put the patients back into the wards in the evening not later than
8:30 PM. I figured that a few moments later would be a good time to
act. Most of the girls just made sure that the patients were settled
for the night and then would take up their vigil at the nurse's
station at one end of the ward. I knew all of the girls with duty that
night and judged them all likely to adhere to the standard procedure.
I had "general duties" - you sat in a little room off the
pharmacy, watched the intruder and fire alarms (yes, we had them even
in the 40's) and looked out for any little problems, being ready to
assist anywhere in the event of a patient suddenly worsening. It was
as good an opportunity as I was likely to get.
I very quietly went down to his room. The little bedside light was on.
I looked through the little window in the door to see the sheet drawn
up over his knees and small, repetitive movements going on. My friend
was masturbating! I looked carefully round to check if I was alone and
this seemed to be the case. I gently opened the door and my friend
looked up in a startled and rather embarrassed manner at me. I put my
finger to my lips, closed the door very quietly, turned off the bedside
light and lifted the sheets. He had taken off his pyjama bottom and
had a big erection. I gently grasped his shaft, it throbbed just a
little in my hand. I had heard a little about male sexuality and
coming from a countryside background with farm animals all around, I
knew basically what happened. My friend lay back and within a few
seconds he came. I caught most of it in his pyjama pants. It
wouldn't matter, as "wet dreams" were quite common amongst young
males as they recovered from TB; in fact we rather welcomed to see it
as a sign of improving health. My friend's breathing returned to
normal and he smiled at me. "You lovely girl" he said, "you
didn't have to do that but it was very kind of you. Please don't
get caught! It will be worse for you, they can't do much to me."
"What do you mean?" I said in mock surprise. He grinned.
"I've heard what the Consultant likes to do to you girls and I
would hate it to happen to you!" Just as he said it, the door swung
open and there was the Matron!
"You dirty little tyke, come here girl". My friend grabbed the
sheets and covered himself up, a bit too late. "I will speak to you
later, Group Captain" the Matron snapped as she grabbed me by the ear
and led me protesting down the corridor to her office.
Once in her office the Matron, with the door locked, said "I knew you
liked the officer, I've been watching you. I knew it was only a
matter of time before you did something like that and I guessed it
would be soon. You are of above average intelligence and I knew you
would try it when you thought everything was quiet". The Matron was
wearing a pair of tennis shoes and dark-coloured clothes that let her
move around very quietly and creating minimum opportunity to be seen in
a darkened corridor. "The Consultant will be coming, I have turned
on a special light that he can see from the car park where he is
waiting. Now undress, get in the toilet and relieve yourself, I
don't want you wetting yourself when he canes you". My pussy was
twitching in a mixture of fear and anticipation. Now I was going to
get that caning that I had been waiting for. "Well", I thought,
"I'm going to give you a good show". I undressed slowly, taking
care to thrust my firm young breasts out, wriggle my hips and finally
to stand up defiantly in front of her with my legs slightly parted. I
put a finger down and gently stimulated my clit. The Matron looked on
in a mixture of anger and passion. "You wicked little slut, get in
that toilet immediately". I went slowly in, sat down and with my
knees parted wide, took a long leisurely pee and let her have a good
look. What did it matter, it's natural? The Matron looked on, going
pink. When I finished, I wiped my wet pussy with a piece of toilet
paper, sighing deeply as I did so. The Matron was rooted to the spot
for a few seconds, until true to form, she filled a bowl with warm
water and ordered me to bend over in the middle of her office as she
washed first my pussy then my (already clean) anus.
I heard a knock on the door and it was the Consultant. He was actually
a fine figure of a man. I had seen what he could do to a girl's
bottom and I thought, "There won't be any half measures in my case,
I'm really going to find out what all this is about".
The Matron let the Consultant in (he was carrying the cane hidden
mostly up the sleeve of his suit jacket) and told him what had
happened. She went on to explain that I was a brazen hussy having
played with myself in front of her and needed and exemplary punishment.
"You wicked little creature, this is a hospital, not a brothel. You
will get not the usual six strokes but twelve real hard cuts across
your wicked rump. I doubt if you will be able to keep still so the
Matron will hold your shoulders down across the desk whilst I thrash
you."
So saying, he gestured me to lie across the desk. The Matron pressed
herself down on me over the side of the desk, as she lay with her
breasts squeezed against my back and with one hand gently massaging the
upper side of one of my breasts. "You wicked old perve." I
thought. I heard the Consultant cut the air with the cane and winced.
A couple of seconds later there was a whistling noise like someone
cutting silk, a loud CRAAK, a fleeting numbness then a pain like a
cross between an electric shock and a white hot line of fire. I let
out a piercing yelp and kicked with my feet. The Consultant waited for
me to subside as the pain very, very slowly eased to a dull ache. The
same thing happened HAAARSH, ZWAAP and another obscene line of fire
roared through me. I bit my lip and writhed about with the Matron
hanging on to me like a limpet. A third stroke followed quickly with
at least equal force. All I became aware of was the dreadful pain in
my bum, but also that the muscles of my vagina were beginning to spasm
uncontrollably. I was getting turned-on, as I guessed I might. The
next three strokes landed with terrific force and the whole world
became a sort of dim red colour before my eyes. The Consultant must
have stopped. The Matron removed her weight from me and I lay there
shuddering and racked with a mixture off pain and pleasure. The
Consultant said, "I will let you recover for a few moments and then
give you the final six strokes very quickly. You are a tough girl and
it will do you no harm". I lay there across the desk, not caring
what they saw, rubbing at my throbbing bottom but highly conscious of
delicious feelings in my vagina. My vision slowly returned to normal.
My breathing returned to normal too and I became aware of the Matron
pressing down on me again. I tried to relax. "Get ready, it will
soon be over", growled the Consultant. The cane blows rained down in
quick succession with only about three or four seconds between each
one. The pain was indescribable and I had trouble getting my breath.
But it was soon over. I heard the Consultant open the door and leave.
I still lay there over the desk trying to get my breath back, convulsed
in waves of pain and vaginal contractions. I became aware that the
Matron had at least one finger inside me. "You dirty old cow," I
thought. I slowly got up and rubbed my very sore and swollen bottom.
I badly needed to pee again. I tried to sit on the toilet but the pain
was awful. The Matron followed me in, reached down and held me up
under my shoulders "Just try to squat over the bowl so you won't
have to sit on the marks", she breathed in quite a kindly manner. I
finished peeing and Matron helped to dry me off, giving my clit a
playful little tweak. I slowly put my clothes back on. The Matron
said, "You are excused duty for the rest of the night, now go to the
home and take care of yourself."
I stiffly made my back to the Nurses home and decided to take a bath.
I went to my room and fetched my dressing gown then went for a bath. I
ran the bath and began to undress again. I was in awful pain. There
was a light knock on the door. I wrapped the dressing gown round
myself and cracked the door ajar - it was the Matron! "Maria, I
must make sure you are all right after that". I reluctantly let her
in. She locked the door behind her, eased the dressing gown off me and
hugged me, very gently rubbing the marks on my bottom. "Let me make
you feel better now Dear" she said winningly. "What the hell", I
thought, "it won't last for ever and I might even like it".
I think I mentioned that the Sanatorium was actually a former stately
home. The bathroom was one of the old family bathrooms and contained
an ancient 19th century bidet that we girls sometimes used to sit on
and clean up after periods. The Matron gestured for me to sit on the
bidet. I thought, "What on Earth is she up to?" The hard
porcelain edge of the bidet pressed on my cane marks and I whimpered in
pain. The Matron deftly turned on both the bidet taps and selected the
vertical spray. She encouraged me to move so that the spray played on
my pussy and then carefully lifted the hood of my clitoris with a
finger. The water washed over my engorged clit and it was seventh
heaven - I had never, ever thought to try that with the bidet!
The Matron smiled benignly at me "That's nice isn't it Maria"
she said with a little smile. She wasn't wrong. She came round
behind me and fondled my breasts, it wasn't unpleasant at all. I
just sat there and played with myself, steadily becoming less aware of
my burning rump. After about fifteen minutes I turned off the taps and
got up. The matron helped to dry me and then folded the towel into a
little cushion shape, putting it on the side of the bath. She gestured
for me to sit there. I did so, wondering what was coming next. Matron
gently parted my knees and sucked on my clit. I had never, ever
experienced anything like it or believed that such feelings could be
possible. I dug my nails into her shoulder as things happened between
my legs that were beyond anticipation. This must have gone on for
about another fifteen minutes but really I lost all sense of the
passage of time. I gently pushed away the Matron's head and stood
up. I was soaking wet again and wished to clean myself. I went back
over to the bidet and made myself feel clean again. The Matron looked
on longingly. "I can't take any more Matron, please let me sleep
now". "Of course Maria, you are a lovely natural girl and what we
have done tonight has revealed aspects of your sexuality to you. I
wish all the girls were like you. I knew you were different and could
experience this without any subsequent problems. I won't bother you
again." So saying, she departed after opening the bathroom door
carefully but there was no-one around.
I dried myself carefully, put my dressing gown back on and returned to
my room. I lay on my bed with a myriad of feelings rippling through my
body. I drifted into a deep sleep. I woke in the morning but was in
no hurry as I was not on duty until the afternoon. I was sore inside
and outside but contented. I knew I was not a Lesbian but I guess few
men will understand without due thought exactly what it takes to really
turn-on a female.